Archive for March, 2007

Its a familiar paradigm:

The Yin Yang of Art imitating Life, and Life in turn imitating art. Seinfeld even once pulled the meta-tasticly ironic quadfecta of Art-imitates-Life-imitates-Art-imitates-Life in the brilliant episode #155 known as “The Muffin Top” (The show’s Cosmo Kramer hosts a Jay Peterman reality tour -which is based on Real-world Kenny Kramer hosting a Seinfeld reality tour based on The TV show Seinfeld, which is based on the real lives of Jerry Seinfeld and Kenny Kramer. Whoa.)

In attempting to apply this to the Barefoot Theater’s performance of “Dog Day Afternoon” I found an even more complex display of the spiral: It seems I’ve stumbled upon Art imitating Art imitating Journalism imitating Life. Or is Journalism a bridge between Life and Art? . . . Christ I need an aspirin.

In 1972, two men held up a Chase Bank on Ave P and E3rd st. in Brooklyn NY. What ensued was a bizarre 14-hour Urban Dramedy in which it was discovered that the cause for the hold-up was so that the “mastermind” (if he could be called one) needed money for his male-wife’s sex change.

Only in New York, right? Well, only in Brooklyn to be exact.

The story was unique and fascinating enough to inspire journalist P.F. Kluge to write a feature article in Life Magazine entitled “Boys in the Bank” as if the sex-change bank-robbery weren’t enough, the other factors that simmers in the stifling heat and tension of the summer of 1972 in Brooklyn, seeped through every inch of the Brooklyn streets on that strange, strange day.

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The independent theatre scene has received a real gift this year with the emergence of the Frigid New York Festival: a selection of 30 plays in the East Village in the month of March. These plays are alternative, under represented and finally getting some attention.

“We Call Her Benny” is certainly a stand out play in this innaugural year. The hour long play explores a woman’s relationship with her own identity and her own sexuality. The primary information we have about Anna is that she was adopted as a baby and suffers from bipolar disorder. Told through short, powerful scenes, we learn just enough to care about Anna, and to stand behind her in her difficult journey. As a teenaged girl, Anna (played by Anna Bridgeforth) is taken advantage of by an older man and rebels against her psychiatrist. As a married woman, Anna (now played by Anna Cody) confronts her inability to orgasm, her husband’s desire to engage in a group orgy, and her birth mother. All these scenes are beautifully written and superbly acted. With simple set and very little technical showiness, “We Call Her Benny” proves once and for all that a great script and talented actors are the ultimate recipe for excellent theatre.

All the actors are exceptional, shining in the light and dark moments of the script. Bridgeforth and Cody are both fully alive on stage, and are seamless in their portrayal of the lead character. The rest of the cast is vibrant as well, without a single weak link. Candice Owens is particuarly engaging as Anna’s quirky, disturbing birth mother. Scenes between Owens and Cody are the strongest in the show, balancing humor and tragedy with rare skill.

Every theme in “We Call Her Benny” is handled with delicacy, wit, and depth. Hopefully, Frigid New York Festival will act as a springboard for this piece and its cast and crew. With so much new material constantly arriving in the Manhattan scene, it can be hard to weed through all the options. “We Call Her Benny” is an easy choice, an honest, lovely piece that most certainly will win any audience member’s heart.

So, if you saw the film Project Grizzly by director Peter Lynch then you really must check out Grizzly Proof, a conceptual art show inspired by the film and by the very human and lovable Troy Hurtubise. Human vs. nature was explored by all the artists in different mediums at the Flux Factory; which was a great space for this event, as long as you don’t mind trekking out to Queens.

Once you enter the room your eyes are pulled in so many directions as you try to decide what to look at first. There was the huggable fuzzy bear sleeping bag in the middle of the floor (”Bear Hugg” by Lisa Dillin) which you can actually snuggle up and zip yourself into. Then I was drawn to the loopy and fun “Hairy Blob with Arrows” by Fabienne Lasserre. And, how could I forget Paul Burn’s “Bear Cave” which was a humongous cave to peek into. I climbed into it’s secret little hidden interior to watch Burn’s and Stuyvesant’s “Grizzly Quest” video. I swear that cave was like a clown car, multitudes of people kept entering and exiting all night.

Some of the most notable projects were the simplistic, yet poignant and precise “Log” by Dominique Blais and the multimedium “What it Takes to Fold a Giant Bear” by Ian Montgomery which took the traditional artform of origami to a quirky postmodern and oversized level and it was spiced up with video documentation at super speeds.

Audience favorite of the evening (also got my vote!) was the interactive metal “Foosball Table” by Chris Hackett (metal work) and Eleanor Lovinsky (handcrafted figurines of little bears and little Troys). The crowd errupted around this piece of art as MANY games of foosball went on and on into the night.

The artists did not take themselves too seriously, which successfully added a level of playful intimacy and captured the truth of the film. Grizzly Proof was curated by Jean Barberis, Kerry Downey and Chen Tamir. The exhibit runs through April 12 on Saturdays and Sundays from 2-6 PM or by appointment.

Overall: I liked it- go play!

Did you ever have one of those Great Ideas? You know the kind.… it’s two in the morning and just for kicks you and your friends are taking turns finding obscure movies on the Internet. The weirder the better. You stumble upon a bit of ephemera so strange and heady it gets better with each viewing. And the more you watch it, the more you want to comment on it, to interject your own ideas. Egging each other on, you take turns reenacting your favorite scenes, pushing it to new levels of quirkdom. You are hysterical and utter geniuses. You have to bring your brilliance to the masses. Everyone loves it. —For the first twenty minutes or so, that is. Then the shtick wears thin. That’s the feeling you get watching The Wooster Group’s “Hamlet.” The concept is inspiringly innovative, and even the execution is praiseworthy—but the play goes on so long that the nuances that at first make it clever become wearing on your senses.

Here’s what The Wooster Group has to say about the weird ephemera that got their creative juices flowing:

We were drawn to Richard Burton’s “Hamlet,” a 1964 Broadway production which was recorded in live performance from 17 camera angles and edited into a film that was shown for only two days in 2000 movie houses across the US.

The idea of bringing a live theatre experience to thousands of simultaneous viewers in different cities was trumpeted as a new form called “Theatrofilm,” made possible through “the miracle of Electronovision.”

Cool. The Metropolitan Opera recently did something similar.

Okay, now take an aspirin ’cause here comes the difficult-but-smart concept behind The Wooster Group’s “Hamlet”:

Our “Hamlet” attempts to reverse the process, reconstructing a hypothetical theater piece from the fragmentary evidence of the edited film, like an archeologist inferring an improbable temple from a collection of ruins.

What this all means is that Burton’s legendary film is projected in the background while live actors simultaneously reenact it. Or at least most of it. Not meticulously faithful to the original film, the players repeatedly request certain parts of the film to be skipped or fast-forwarded. Still, the play goes on for three hours, with only a fifteen-minute intermission, so not too much of the film is missed. Given this room for deviation, it’s curious that Director Elizabeth LeCompte didn’t edit out a bit more of the play to create a stronger piece.

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Don’t you just love to see a man have a dream and work really hard to accomplish it? Okay, so maybe not all dreams are as epic as others, but isn’t the fact that he’s trying his damnest good enough? Even if it’s perhaps a wonky dream, it’s a dream nonetheless… which brings me to our everyday unsung hero…

Determined, he creeps into the snow covered clearing donning his fringed buckskin jacket with knives strapped to his body. He tells his story of the “old man” with the white beard- the grizzly who almost took his life. He is Troy Hurtubise, survivor of a ferocious grizzly bear attack. His dream is to create the perfect bear proof suit of armor. After many futile attempts, he wears his heart on his sleeve as he lives his story. Oh, it is sad, it is ridiculous, but most of all it is sweet and less than ordinary in the most endearing way.

He so badly wants to be somebody (haven’t we all been there?). His nature is defined by his quirky actions- shaving his face with his bowie knife, lighting his cigarette with a blow torch. His mega suit goes through many models and tests to become grizzly bear proof, such as walking through fire, numerous ramming of heavy logs at high speeds, being shot at with bows and arrows as well as 9 millimeter slugs and even running smack dab into the damn thing with a truck 18 times. I swear the poor man could literally barely walk in the suit since it weighed 147 pounds and he even had to get into it like the Duke Boys got into the General Lee.

Director Peter Lynch is a filmmaker who gets it. He combines storytelling with documentary cinematography to piece together the most lovable and outrageous true story that I have ever seen or heard. Lynch injects Troy’s story right into the veins of North America. After the screening at New Center Cinema, on March 9th, his Q&A session was well received by audience members. Everyone wanted to learn more about Troy and hear about Peter’s vision for the film.

Thank you Peter and thank you Troy for a romping good time and a sincere moment of simple pleasures.

Overall: Two opposable thumbs up- go see it! I seriously don’t care how you get there, find a way. You will laugh, you will giggle, but most of all you will feel your heart well up inside you as you remember the time that you yourself had a dream and you will smile and hope (just like I did) that someday our everyday unsung hero will get his due.

Allow me to preface this review with some caveats. 1) I’ve never reviewed a play before, and 2) my personal experience with plays is limited to the many high school auditions I went to only to be rejected every single time. I am a bad actor and probably have a bit of a chip on my shoulder towards the theatrical community in general. That said, I have done quite a bit of writing and generally know my way around a good story, and have also done some fairly extensive research in the field of dating crazy women in New York City…which brings me to our topic: Sleep Over.


Written by Maria Micheles, Directed by Kitt LaVoie, and starring the actors Jennifer Curfman, Chris Stack, and Lucy Alibar, Sleep Over really, really tried to be whip-crack smart about sexual mores and the inner struggle all we sexy young things have with balancing the need to whore ourselves out to anyone with a pulse and yet come home to the emotional nest of a lover. In other words, it’s about really immature people all dressed up in their fancy adult trappings who almost pull off the trick of making the premise seem like a reasonable one. And in yet more other words, it’s about the kind of emotionally-vapid pseudo-artistic/intellectual city dwellers I generally try to avoid by making crass jokes during dinner parties.

The basic gist of the story is that the Girlfriend told her already cheating Boyfriend that he could sleep with a pretty girl to “save the relationship”, then she freaks out after the fact (can you hear the echoes of me slapping my forehead?). The girlfriend tries to leave, then refuses to leave. The Boyfriend wants her to stay, then uses wacky reverse psychology. There is much statuesque posing filled with “meaningful” pauses. The Other Woman suddenly shows up, and improbably manages to both save the play and end up in a weird maschistic threesome with the Couple. I won’t tell you how it ends, but I will say that it leaves something to be desired (like a satisfying resolution [or at least a little nudity to wake people up]).

As an exploration of sexual morality, I’d say it pretty much flopped. It’s really pretty simple kids; you either get to be a big slut, be in a healthy monogamous relationship, or agree to some sort of swinger arrangement, but no matter what you have to CHOOSE. The Girlfriend just kind of makes you want to slap her the whole time and the Boyfriend seems to love crazy chicks almost as much as himself, resulting in you, the audience member, just really not caring at all about these two idiots. Thankfully, when the Other Woman finally shows up, she’s believeably wacky, legitimately funny, and offers up a really wonderful character that the audience can sympathize with, if not empathize. It’s unfortunate we had to sit through so much actor-y awkward-pause stage direction waiting for her to arrive.

So, here’s my advice: Men, avoid this at all costs–you don’t even get to see boobies. Crazy Women, also avoid this at all costs because it will only give you more reasons to rationalize your craziness. Sane Women, definitely go see this if you intend to break up with your cheating boyfriend and are looking for a good way to make him feel really uncomfortable for an hour before you drop the hammer.

Sane Ladies with cheatin’ bastard boyfriends, you’ll be happy to know that Sleep Over will be playing at Theater for the New City (155 1st Ave., @ 10th St.) until March 25th. Thursday - Saturday at 8pm, Sundays at 3pm. Call ahead for tix at 212.254.1109.

The sixth letter of the alphabet certainly carries a lot of weight. …Stop counting on your fingers—we’re talking about words that begin with the letter “F.” In What F Word?, at Cynthia Broan Gallery, curator Carol Cole Levin examines what the “F” word means to various female artists over the past forty-five years.

In many instances, the viewer is faced with determining the artist’s answer to the question. Brenda Oelbaum, for example, shows a woman painting her toenails on a rug depicting Osama Bin Laden. Interestingly, Oelbaum used a Jesus hooked rug kit to make Osama’s Bin Degraded. Is the artist commenting on freedom? After all, we’ve all been conditioned to believe, “The terrorists hate our freedom.” Or perhaps, by have a woman audaciously paint her nails (her toenails at that!) on the face of a terrorist, the artist is farcically mocking fear.

Perhaps, there is no set “F” word, but multiple meanings within each work:

Sabyna Sterrett in Flood, hand stitches pearls on fabric printed with fish (a Christian symbol of faith) to memorialize the devastating Easter flood in 1979 of the Pearl River that flows through Mississippi, the same river that was dragged for bodies during civil rights trials in the 60’s.

Within this single work, we face such “F” words as “flood,” fabric,” “fish,” and “faith.”

Other works, like Deborah Kass’ Quote Louise Bourgeois, appear more obvious, though the viewer may or may not agree with the viewpoint. The downward spiral of words read: “Woman has no place in the art world unless she proves over and over again she won’t be eliminated.” But just because a work has words on it, doesn’t mean it is clear or literal. Dana Frankfort very simply paints the word “Faith,” but there’s no indication as to what the artist’s opinion of this particular “F” word is. In a work such as this, the viewer’s perspective of the word is just as important as the artist’s to understanding the full implications of the word.

The thought-provoking exhibit uses photographs, video, painting, and sculpture to probe our culture’s ideals.

What F Word? raises more questions than it asks.

Female. Feminism. Fag. Flag. Foreign. Friend. Foe. Fascist. Force. Faith. Fundamentalism. Fanatic. Follower. Fear. Finances. Fire. Flood. Food. Fat. Fart. F**k. Fudge. Flip. Freak. Farce. Fact. Fiction. Freedom. Forgive.

Are these “F” words positive or negative? Why do they have so much power behind them? Should a word like “feminism” be equated with a swear word? What about the word “faith”? Does it really make a difference whether you exclaim “fudge,” “flip,” or “freak,” when everyone knows what you really mean?

I have never had a bad time at any Upright Citizen’s Brigade event and last night was no exception. Comedian Aziz Ansari hosts an amazing night of fresh comedy. Though other comedians perform sets. Ansari is the star of the show, showing clips of his upcoming MTV sitcom, “Human Giants”, reading from unproduced terrible sitcom scripts that he must have found in Los Angeles trash cans, and performing comedy in an unscripted, off the cuff way that is rarely scene in NYC’s comedy scene. Ansari is smart and provocative, bravely using comedy to comment on the most taboo topics. He succeeds across the board, somehow walking the line between offensive and funny with grace and wit.

Ansari is relaxed and confident on stage, enjoying himself as much as the audience enjoys him, and telling stories from his life that are funny because of Ansari’s talent as a story teller, not necessarily because the stories are funny in and of themselves. But this is a relief. There is nothing staged, no corny punch lines, no stale stand up routines. Ansari and his guests are simply being themselves; self deprecating, sarcastic and fun loving. The result is one of the most enjoyable comedy shows I’ve seen, and best of all its completely free! The only downside was a late start to an already late (11pm) show, but this was quickly forgiven when the hilarity finally began.

The place is packed with alternative comedy lovers and UCB groupies. There is definitely an “insider” feel to everything; the same people clearly come to Ansari’s show week after week. But instead of being intimidating or uncomfortable, the community feel is comforting, and random UCB-ers were introducing themselves to me all night long, so that I, too, could feel part of the club. Add to all this the fact that you can drink beer or wine throughout the whole show, and its clear there is no reason at all to not attend “Crashtest” every single week. Ansari is growing in popularity and is probably close to beoming a mainstream, well known comedian, so catch this fantastic event now, before his show airs and he becomes a household name!

Oh My God, Roxy Baby, What were you thinking? Rollerskating at NYC’s infamous club The Roxy is a brilliant idea, I must admit- but, man you better be absolutely desperate to lace up your roller skates and boogie out on the floor. I mean, Roxy, I know you’re about to close your doors forever and all and everyone wants to share a piece of your final historical last hoorah, but this was a bit much.

Waiting in line outside in the freezing temperatures, okay fine, it is NY afterall- then once finally inside another line awaits so you can buy tickets- okay this is all still understandable. But then- as I went to pick up my skates, the madhouse ensued. A mob of people were pushing and trying to figure out where to go. Roxy, you can do better- this was totally unorganized chaos. My frustrated fellow waiting mobsters and I had formed an ameoba-like blob where the most pushy, obnoxious people got their skates first.

Once I was finally birthed through the cervix of people to the front of the NON-line, the exhausted, overworked people behind the counter graced me with news that they didn’t have my Womens Size 7 skates available (nor one size smaller, nor two sizes larger). Eventually, I settled for a pair of Men’s Size 5’s, but was actually given a Size 4.

So, with toes painfully crammed into my skates (cause hell- I was not going to go back through that birth canal to try to get a less painful pair). I mean, come on… I had already been waiting for an hour! Once I finally made it to the skating rink (aka the dancefloor) it was really quite fun- the kind of fun complete with giant disco ball and enormous fluffy red hearts hanging from the celiing.

You do have to watch out for the handful of super-skate freaks that swerve wrecklessly in and out of the crowd at death-defying speeds (it’s pretty cool to watch them though, with all their fancy twirls and dance moves). Okay, so maybe I fell once- but, this nice stranger scooped me up and gently sent me rolling on my way again- narrowly avoiding a pile-up.

After skating around for awhile I had to rest my aching squenched toes- ouch.

Overall, it turned out to be fun, but Roxy, wish you woulda fixed the inexcusable mass free-for-all chaos in the rental skate/coat check dept, otherwise it’s not worth the trouble. Oh, and everybody- if you do go- this event is even more fun if you go with a boy/girl/other to skate with hand in hand, but also great with a group of friends. ‘The Last Spin’ is on Friday, 3/9 and will be featuring DJ Julio.

The Light Inside is a 35 minute play with three actors with the narrative set in three different realms.

The first realm is a series glimpses into our protagonist Lily. (played by the deeply inpsired and very skilled playwright and producer of the show: Lindsay Wolf). Lily is a young girl in therapy sessions. Sessions that begin in early age, maybe 5 or 6 and progresses through early adulthood.

The second realm is Lily in her winter years. Rocking chair and sweater, with a photo album of joyous days and years past. Her loving husband Samuel pacing back and forth behind her muttering “Yes, dear.”

The third realm is a dance. A dream. The girl and some phantom boy, trying to engage, trying to be close, and in each repeatition of the dream they grow closer. Sometimes further away.

Something happened to Lily as a child. Specifics of it aren’t important, all we know is that she was abused by someone close to her. It’s hinted at early, perhaps as subtly as the playwright seemed to be able to muster. But as a focal point of The Light Inside, the audience needs to know: Lily is damaged, and can’t find her way out of the nightmares and the alienation that have come from it.

The “Elder” scenes however showed an old woman who could remember nothing but joy in her youth with her loving husband.

What bridged the gap between these two women? The dance-dreams hint at it, nudge us toward the answer through a series of silent steps. that gulf that at the end of the 35 minutes was filled with a comforting, inspiring revelation.

Lindsay’s performance as Young Lily, through three stages of her youth, growing up byt forever trying to eleviate her herself of the pain of her dark secret was marvellous.

Elder Lily, however was somewhat forced. With a grating, senility-tinged voice and her hunched, slowly pacing husband Samuel. It can be difficult for a pair of twenty-somethings to play octegenarians without it seeming like a mockery of old age. But in a brief, sweet play, we walk away from The Light Inside with the comfort that no matter how broken we may feel, there’s still the hope, and the determination that we can and we do get better.

Editors NOTE: It’s VERY IMPORTANT to support small community theater. Even when confronted with a “perfect storm” of bad PR.

By this I mean a Theater company called FRIGID, putting on a show at the end of winter in a black-box theater with bad heating. But it’ll be 50 degrees this weekend!! So get out there and support FRIGID