"King of the Kosher Grocers" by Stage North at the Capri Theater

New #TCTheater company Stage North (not to be confused with Stage North Theatre Company in Brainerd) makes its debut in the newly remodeled Capri Theater in North Minneapolis with King of the Kosher Grocers. This charming play that is an homage to the neighborhood, first produced by Mixed Blood Theatre in 1992, is a great first production for a company whose mission is "creating vibrant, live experiences that bring people together to tell and celebrate stories of urban life... Our hope is that Stage North will help bring new audiences and new excitement and vitality to the North Side business district and contribute to the neighborhood's continuing growth and expansion" (read the full statement here). Unfortunately, North Minneapolis is a neighborhood known more for its crime and violence than for the community and culture of the people who live there. Of course, theater can't solve all of the problems, but it can shine a light on overlooked people and communities. This play does just that - celebrates the diverse community of people and the vibrant history of this neighborhood.*

"Sons of the Prophet" at Park Square Theatre

"You are far greater than you know, and all is well." In the 2012 Pulitzer Prize finalist Sons of the Prophet, the members of the Lebanese-American Douaihy family cling to this quote from their distant relation Khalil Gibran like a lifeline in the midst of their suffering. The also idolize the Lebanese Saint Rafqa, a 19th Century nun who prayed for suffering so she could feel closer to God. Being raised Catholic, I'm familiar with the idea of suffering as virtue, and I don't buy it. Suffering is not something to be sought after, it doesn't make us more pious. But let's face it, suffering is a part of life. We all suffer in different immeasurable ways. The suffering itself is not a virtue, rather it's how we're able to get through it and who we are on the other side that matters. The Douaihy brothers endure their suffering with humor and compassion in this play full of quirkily endearing characters that ends with no resolution, only a promise of more suffering, and more life.

"I Wish You Love" at Penumbra Theatre

It's not often that you get a second chance to see a production you missed.  Every year at the Ivey Awards I'm presented with several wonderful productions and performances that I didn't see.  I always wish they'd bring back the productions so I could have another chance to see them, and this year my wish came true!  Dennis Spears won an Ivey for his performance as Nat King Cole in I Wish You Love by Penumbra Theatre earlier this year, and after touring with the show in Washington DC and Connecticut, they brought it home to their St. Paul theater for another run (now through Dec. 18).  I'm so glad I had the opportunity to see it.  Not just for Dennis' award-worthy performance, but also because it's another quality, thought-provoking, moving production by Penumbra.  I was lucky enough to attend on a day when there was a post-show discussion led by Education Director Sarah Bellamy, which was, as always, enlightening and illuminating about the topics surrounding the show (if you ever get a chance to go to a talk-back at Penumbra, take it).  The more I see of Penumbra, the more I love them.  Like me, they believe that theater is more than just entertainment.  Theater has the power to start conversations and change the way we view the world.

I Wish You Love is a Penumbra original; written by Dominic Taylor, head of Penumbra's new play development program, and directed by Artistic Director Lou Bellamy, it premiered at Penumbra earlier this year.  The play is a fictionalized account of Nat King Cole's 1957-1958 TV variety show, the first hosted by an African American.  The sponsors were skittish, and Cole ended up putting his own money into the show to keep it on the air.  The play branches off from that and shows us the racism behind the scenes of the show; the network and sponsors didn't want any of the black band members to appear on camera, and Nat received death threats.  The network insisted he go on a national tour to prove his national popularity, ending in his birthplace of Alabama (he grew up in Chicago).  This was during the height of the Civil Rights movement and the violence surrounding it.  Nat and his band were caught up in the violence, which brought a whole new reality to what they were seeing on the news every night.

The scenes in the play cover rehearsals, breaks, and the TV show itself.  Video images are beautifully and effectively woven into the live action on the stage.  When the show goes live, a camera in the back of the theater videotapes what's going on onstage, which is simultaneously broadcast on several black and white TVs hanging over the stage.  It feels like we're at a live taping of "The Nat King Cole Show," complete with "Applause" signs and vintage commercials that come on during the breaks.  We also get news reports of the growing violence in the South and see real news footage projected onto the screens.  It's quite a contrast between the smooth, pretty music in the TV studio and people being beaten on the streets in the news footage.

I'm not that familiar with Nat's music (other than his Christmas album and his posthumous duet with his daughter Natalie), but I've been watching some videos of him on youtube, and Dennis Spears seems to have captured his mannerisms, his voice, and his spirit.  You see two Nat King Coles in I Wish You Love - the smiling public face, and the behind the scenes real man who is frustrated with the sponsors and the network.  As soon as the countdown to live TV begins (five, four, three, two....), Nat puts on his million dollar smile and speaks to the camera, and to his audience watching at home.  And then he sings in that familiar velvet voice (musical direction by Sanford Moore).  As soon as the cameras are turned off, reality sets in and he lights up a cigarette (Nat died of lung cancer at the age of 45) as he interacts with his band or the producer.  Nat's band members (inspired by his real life trio) are played by the always great Kevin D. West as the bass player and long-time friend of Nat's, and newcomer to the Twin Cities theater scene Eric Berryman as the young guitar player Nat takes under his wing.  We learn more about Nat and his life and goals through the stories, jokes, and pain he shares with his friends.  The show's producer, who does the best he can for Nat within the restrictions placed upon him, is played by Michael Tezla (my co-star from A Serious Man).

In what turned out to be a fascinating and completely unplanned but somehow serendipitous pairing of theater, I saw the Chanhassen's production of Hairspray the same weekend that I saw I Wish You Love.  Both shows are set in a similar time period and deal with segregation.  Both explore the use of TV and music to help break down the barriers between the races, but in very different ways.  Hairspray is a fairly simplified version of events, in which everyone ends up happily and peacefully dancing together, and it's a white girl who leads the way.  I Wish You Love is a much more realistic view (we see several violent images that are hard to look at) of the struggles of African Americans that continue to this day.  There is no happy ending for Nat King Cole, just continued struggle, and progress mixed with setbacks.  Both shows deal with an important and unpleasant part of our history that really wasn't all that long ago.  I found that they complemented each other nicely, one a "fairy tale," and one a very real tale of one man trying to make a difference just by his very presence in American living rooms across the country through the power of television.

"Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" by Penumbra Theatre at the Guthrie

August Wilson wrote ten plays about the African-American experience, each covering one decade in the 20th century.  He lived in St. Paul for over ten years and worked closely with Penumbra Theatre, which has produced more of his plays than any other theater in the world, including several world premieres.  They're currently doing Ma Rainey's Black Bottom at the Guthrie, directed by Penumbra Artistic Director Lou Bellamy.  Set in Chicago in the 1920s, Ma Rainey is a fictional account of a recording session of the real life blues singer of the same name.  But it's really about so much more than that.  The way Wilson weaves in themes of racism and history and unspeakable horror along with an entertaining and humorous story is just remarkable.  After the show there was a discussion let by Penumbra Education Director Sarah Bellamy and two experts on race relations, Herbert A. Perkins and Elona Street-Stewart.  The discussion was much more profound and insightful than anything I could say!

Everyone in this cast is amazing in their roles.  Ma Rainey is played by Jevetta Steele of the fabulous local singing family The Steeles.  Ma is what some might call a "diva."  But really, she's a woman who knows what she wants and knows that her power is limited.  Before her voice is recorded, while there's something that she has that the studio owner and her manager still want, she is able to exert some power over her situation.  But as soon as the recording is done and she's signed the release, they don't need her anymore and she's nothing to them.  The four-member band is comprised of Cutler (James Craven), the leader who speaks in rapid-fire words that reminded me of Tommy Lee Jones; Toledo (Abdul Salaam El Razzac), the wise and book-reading piano player; Slow Drag (William John Hall, Jr.), the easy-going bass player; and Levee (James T. Alfred) a young man who has dreams and ambitions of his own.  He wants to play his own arrangements and improvisations, which does not go over well with Ma.  Much of the play is these four men talking and joking with each other.  Their characters are so specific and interesting that it's a pleasure to listen to them go on about nothing, but also difficult at times when we catch glimpses of the pain that's behind it all.

The recording session hits a few rough patches.  Ma wants her stuttering nephew Sylvester (Ahanti Young) to record an intro to one of the songs, and it's just heart-breaking to listen to him struggle with the words until he gets it right.  Ma's glamorous girl Dussie Mae (Lerea Carter) flirts with Levee, spurring Ma on to jealousy.  All the while the studio owner Sturdyvant (played by Michael Tezla, my costar from A Serious Man), watches from the office above while Ma's manager Irvin (Phil Kilbourne) acts as a go-between, making sure everyone is happy and gets what they want.  Eventually the songs are recorded satisfactorally and Ma and her entourage leave the studio.  The band is left behind to pack up their things.  Levee gives Sturdyvant some songs that he wrote, hoping to record them with his own band.  Instead, Sturdyvant gives him five dollars for each song and sends him on his way.  Levee is devastated, and takes his anger and disappointment out on one of the other band members in a tragic ending to the play.  It's an ending that's been bubbling up throughout the course of the play, almost as if it were inevitable.  Which doesn't make it any less shocking.

There's so much that needs to be said about this play, and I don't even know where to begin.  I guess I'll close by saying: if you have the chance to see an August Wilson play, take it.  Obviously I don't know a whole lot about what it means to be a person of color in this country.  But I feel like after watching an August Wilson play, I understand a little bit more of our shared history.  I'm making it a goal to see all ten plays in the cycle at some point in my lifetime.  One down, nine to go.

My Experience as an Extra in the Coen Brothers' Movie "A Serious Man"

In addition to theater, I’m also a big fan of movies (although I probably go live theater more often than I go to the movie theater). I’ve never had any desire to be an actor on stage or screen. But I’ve had a few opportunities to be an extra in movies, which was great fun for me because it gave me a behind-the-scenes look at how movies are made. It destroys a little of the movie magic, knowing what goes into them, but it’s worth it to watch great artists at work.

I have Garrison Keillor to thank for my career as a movie extra. I’m a big fan of his radio program A Prairie Home Companion, so when I heard they needed bodies to fill the seats at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul where they were filming a movie version of the show, I signed myself up! I got called in for a double shift, twelve hours that mostly consisted of reading The DaVinci Code in the waiting area across the street (it was 2005, everyone was reading it). An unpaid position except for a few bags of pretzels, and wearing my own clothes, it wasn’t very glamorous. But I did get to spend several hours sitting in the Fitz listening to Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin sing together while Robert Altman called out directions from the back of the theater, John C. Reilly and Woody Harrelson goofed around on their guitars off-stage, and Kevin Kline wandered up and down the aisles. It was a good day’s (unpaid) work and well worth the time, even though I didn’t make it into the movie.

The extras casting company for APHC, and for many local movies, is called “Three Crazy Ladies.” I got on their mailing list, which led to my next job as an extra a few months later. It was a small local movie that pretty much went directly to DVD. Which I bought, only to find out that my brief scene as the hostess of a bar/restaurant was cut.

A few years went by and nothing interesting came up from the casting company. But then news broke that Joel and Ethan Coen were returning to their native Minnesota to film a movie, the first since Fargo in 1996. A Serious Man is period piece set in 1967 and many of the characters are based on people the brothers knew while growing up in Minnesota. I was desperate to be in it, and luckily Three Crazy Ladies again got the job and sent out an email calling for extras. I drove to a non-descript office building in Minneapolis and filled out a one-page application that included the question “are you willing to wear a bullet bra and girdle?” Since that was at the beginning of my obsession with the 1960s-set TV show Mad Men, my answer was an enthusiastic yes! (Trust me, it’s not as cool as it sounds.) Weeks went by and I heard nothing. Then one day I got a call and was asked, “Can you show up for a wardrobe fitting tomorrow?” Sure!

I went back to the office building on a Friday morning and spent about two hours there with the wardrobe and hair departments. They had asked me to straighten my naturally curly hair, and when I got there they asked if they could cut it and do a shoulder length flip-do. I was reluctant, so I went with the other option: “We can give you an up-do and make you look older.” Sure, I’d love to look older. ;) Anything for the Coens. I tried on about four different outfits, all vintage clothes from the 60s. The wardrobe staff settled on a green suit – skirt and jacket – with a patterned blouse with a tie underneath. I was to be a “lady who lunched.” Once the outfit was chosen, they had to pick just the right accessories. It was like my grandmother’s attic – bins of earrings, shoes, and purses, all organized by color. They found the perfect little brown heels (which actually show up in the movie, more about that later), a brown purse, gold and pearl clip-on earrings, and a pin to complete the look. I was so impressed with the level of detail that went into clothing an extra who would appear on screen for just a few seconds. That’s dedication and professionalism, my friends. I was given an updo and a few Polaroids were snapped of the look, and then I was on my way.

My scene was filmed on a Monday morning in October of 2008 in a furniture warehouse off 7th Street in St. Paul near the airport. It was a 6:30 am call time, and again I had to straighten my hair (so of course it was raining on and off and on all day). I showed up on set (which consisted of several trailers parked outside the warehouse) and partook of the free breakfast. There were six extras on the set that morning, and we were lead through the warehouse to the filming area. One room was set up as wardrobe, and our outfits were neatly tagged and ready for us. After wardrobe was make-up. I’ve never had my make-up professionally done, so it was a fun experience. I was given a mod 60s look – black eyeliner with a minty green shadow and pink frosty lip stick. Next stop (and the longest) – hair. While wardrobe and make-up were inside the warehouse, hair was a separate trailer outside. I spent at least an hour, if not two, in the hair trailer. First one set of rollers and then another, much teasing and backcombing, and more hairspray than I’ve used since I was a teenager, and I was transformed into a 1960s woman. The other female extra was there too and was transformed into a perfect 1960s dental receptionist. The men didn’t take nearly as long.

We were all ready to go and led to the waiting room, which also held snacks for the cast and crew. I think that was where I caught my first glimpse of Joel and Ethan. They would occasionally wander in to get a snack or read the paper, but as extras we’re told not to bother the stars or directors. Bad form to ask for an autograph on a movie set. ;) I didn’t know much about the scene we were shooting, just that it took place in a dentist’s office. Finally, we were needed. Only four of the six extras ended up being used in the scene: myself, my 12-year-old “son” (whose uncle had gone to Hebrew School with one of the Coens), the receptionist, and another waiting patient (who, in real life, was a state representative that somehow helped with getting the movie made in Minnesota). The two “real” actors played the dentist and his patient. I recognized the patient as Wayne A. Evanson from several productions at the Guthrie; Dr. Sussman was played by Michael Tezla. The action of the scene consisted of the dentist walking out into the waiting area and greeting the patient, exchanging a few pleasantries. The specific dialogue didn’t seem to be important, just the tone of the exchange. It wasn’t until I saw the movie that I knew why – there was a voiceover during the scene so the dialogue couldn’t be heard.

The scene was shot from four different angles, and I was involved in three of them. A close-up of each actor, and two from farther away with both of them in the shot. Not all the extras were needed for all shots, depending on the angle and who would show up in the shot. From each angle they did probably about ten takes. At times Joel or Ethan or both would come out to give direction, and it was seamless, like they were one person. They obviously have a great working relationship and shorthand between them. I don’t know of any other directors that work in a pair and have been so successful. One direction I remember specifically is that they wanted the patient to laugh with a big open mouth that they seemed to focus on. Their laughter indicated that they finally got what they wanted. We spent probably two hours filming what would be about a 10-second scene. Again, incredible attention to detail.

Lunch break was called at about 1 pm and we went back outside to the food truck which had a great variety of fresh and tasty food. We ate with the crew under a big tent (it was still raining, so I had to be careful to protect my bouffant from the rain). I ate as much as my girdle would allow, which unfortunately was not a whole lot. We went back inside and got touch-ups on our hair and make-up. I felt like such a star as I was getting my hair sprayed and lipstick re-applied at the same time. As soon as we were ready to go, they came in and said, “We don’t need you anymore, you can go now.” Well, thanks for lunch! It was a fun and fascinating day on the movie set, and I got paid! But I had a long 6+ months to wait until I found out if I made it to the big screen.

The movie came out in June of 2009 and was only playing at the Uptown Theater the first weekend, which is a great old theater that seemed to fit the vintage feel of the movie.  I watched with bated breath, waiting for the dentist office to appear.  Larry Gopnik, the main character, went to see the rabbi, who began telling a story about a dentist - this was it!  At about 56 minutes into the movie I saw this:

In the lower right-hand corner of the screen you can see my vintage brown heels, and my "son," who is reading a Look magazine from the 60s.  I believe the article was something about the Kennedys.

In the next scene you see the patient, and there's my head floating in the lower left-hand corner!

During the filming of the scene someone (maybe an assistant director?) told my "son" what to do (pretend to read the magazine), which he took very seriously.  But no one told me what I was supposed to be doing, so I just looked at the magazine over his shoulder and tried not to gawk at the main action of the scene.



And that's it!  My 15 minutes, OK 15 seconds, OK maybe 1/15 of a second, were over.  It was such a fun experience to be even marginally involved in the making of a movie.  And in my completely unbiased opinion, it's one of the Coen Brothers' best films.  Definitely the most personal.  It has that quirky sense of humor that is uniquely Coen, but with a deeper meaning about faith and family and life.  I'm proud to be a part of it.