An Englishman in New Orleans

Domestic Variations

Cutting Across The Map

Never Fight A Shark In Water

Tap and Unfailing Prayers to St. Anthony

On the second day of Fringe Fest action, NoDef's reviewers encountered circus tricks, a dandy take on New Orleans, an ex-Angola inmate and a baroness - undressed. Here's the lowdown:

Cutting Across the Map

Tucked into the back corner of Mardi Gras Zone, Cutting Across the Map is unlike any piece of theatre I have ever seen. Created by Benjamin Haas, Lisa Flanagan, and Ariel Gratch, the piece is a performance of the process of telling and creating stories. Haas sits behind a table at a laptop. He projects images, YouTube videos, and surfs the internet on a large screen on the back wall while playing selections from his iTunes. He asks us to help ourselves to the beer in the cooler on the edge of the stage. Gratch welcomes us and tells us that the theme of the night will be ‘occupation’ in honor of the Occupy Wall Street movement. Every night’s theme will be different.

We are invited to be brave audience members; he asks us not only to listen to their stories, but to share our own.

This piece really creates a space for the audience to participate. All too often shows expect the audience to sit in the dark and contribute nothing but applause at the end. Some shows force audience members to engage in the show, but only as means to serve the performers onstage. This is not the case here. The lights never dim on the house and we are as much a part of the play as Haas and Gratch. We are given a paper airplane kit and low tech tweets (aka slips of paper) to throw onstage if we have something to communicate. We are free to move around. To make decisions. Gratch also calls up several audience members to play a game. I volunteered. Haas starts by telling us about his first job. When we felt inspired to tell a story, we jumped in the middle of the circle. It was a little awkward and slow at first, but it was not long until the group was jumping in and out of the circle with excitement and energy. It seems like the stories the performers tell will change each night depending on the different themes and audiences, but there is nothing more satisfying to me than hearing a good story. And Gratch and Haas are masterful storytellers.

If you are looking for a passive theatrical experience, you will not find it here.Cutting Across the Map is an intimate and meaningful exploration of what a story is, how we create them, and how we share them with each other. It is not to be missed. The show runs Nov 18, 11 pm; Nov 19, 7 pm; and Nov 20, 5 pm. -Helen Jaksch

The Baroness Undressed

Returning Fringe festers may well remember Diana E.H. Shortes from a trio of performances entitled Stripped! Naked in the New World from 2008’s inaugural festival. Shortes’ contribution to the evening of monologues was a riveting look at the real-life drama of the Baroness Pontalba (née Michaela Almonester), a New Orleans-born aristocrat whose fate and fortune led her to marry in rural France.

Shortes has expanded that work into a trim, 30-minute solo piece in which she inhabits the powerful persona of the Baroness, a woman born in 1795 who lived to nearly 80, despite receiving four bullets from the end of her father-in-law’s gun. Dressed in layers of lace, velvet, hooks, and hoops, Veronica Russell’s costume design shines as Shortes literally throws her body on the floor, slowly peeling layers away as the tells of the torture she’s endured. At the Allways Lounge (2240 St. Claude Ave.), her simple props and stage dressing serve the story well—a single red scarf, unspooled from her body, and a gold trimmed fainting couch, which Shortes dominates with falls, flails, and steely-eyed repose. 

“It is a funny thing, amusing, the absence of power,” muses the Baroness in one hysterical moment.  Shortes proves the opposite true: her voice, thick with equal parts song and keening rage, is dead serious and unquestionably powerful.  Careful listening here is rewarded; Shortes has laden her dense material with enjambmed rhymes and subtle touches of dark humor. 

While the title of the piece is certainly eye-catching, it’s something of a trick.  Shortes dresses onstage and does remove some layers of clothing, but this is no 30 minute burlesque act.  At Thursday’s opening show however, Shortes talked up the Erotic Cabaret this Friday at midnight, wherein the Baroness will reveal “a very different sort of character,” playing host to a cabaret of poets, burlesque dancers, and audience members willing to perform in the Strip Spelling Bee. The show will play Nov. 18 at 9 p.m., Nov. 18 at, midnight (Erotic Cabaret, hosted by the Baroness) and Nov. 20 at 9 p.m. -Moxie Sazerac

An Englishman in New Orleans

The generation raised on a steady diet of British television comedy - the perfect parody of John Cleese of the sort of man Hyacinth Bucket wishes she had married - have high expectations when Paul Oswell walks on stage, all starched Saville row with bowler and umbrella, to portray Sebastian Lyme-Regis, an upper class young British gentlemen sent to American on behalf of his daddy's company, British Petroleum, to charm and calm the locals.

He promises a show that, among “all the great shows [of Fringe Fest] none will have better table manners” and it opens well enough. After Oswell’s brief introduction we are treated to a little film, a trailer for the show really, of the same title as the performance, but the rest of the evening fails to charm as well as the video version does. The film over, Oswell launches on his self-described lecture, a set of predictable local insider jokes given the twist of the perspective of an idle English dandy. He covers all the expected subjects: the pronunciation of street names, his encounter with “where you got them shoes” (why on Regent Street, ofcourse) and his attempts to learn the local lingo. His bit on trying to understand the meaning of Who Dat, which he ultimately translates into a paragraph-long, prep-school dissertation projected on the screen as being a challenge to teams having “the damned termerity” to challenge  the local football club.

He does much better in parodying the British upper class directly, such as his dismay on visiting Parkway Bakery to discover the sandwiches are on French bread, his frequent put downs of  other Europeans or his explanation of his troubles with the fair sex. In the last he explains in some detail that his fellow British don’t have four bases to get through but something on the order of 23, including the step when one is allowed to remove one’s cricket jacket while riding in a punt with his date.  His jabs at British Petroleum drew genuine laughter from the audience, including a poem attacking BP ostensibly written by his equally idle and pretentious brother who expresses his trustafarian liberal views in “bad verse."

The trailer film is genuinely funny but the show doesn’t live up to its promise. Where the show best succeeds is in the two humorous cabaret songs, one complaining of the volubility of casual New Orleans acquaintances called T.M.I (Too Much Information) and a second comparing Goths wearing their heavy, dark dress in this climate to his own layered wool, with the refrain  “Goths and Englishmen out in the noonday sun.” From the selection of Oswell’s satirical songs playing while waiting for the show, he would have been better served to trim the patter and work his repertoire of lyrics.

The show is partly spoiled by Oswell’s permanent, nervous smile of an amateur stand-up comedian, his too frequent glances at the music stand containing prompts to his script, and the frequent “ums” in his delivery, which I don’t remember being a prominent feature of upper class British speech based on my careful study of Monty Python and Fry and Laurie excerpts. It might have been opening night jitters, but the music stand suggests a lack of rehearsal.

The concept is a good one, with Oswell suggesting that as a privileged British expat he “knows what it means to misunderstand New Orleans” and the material was good.   The trailer carries off that idea with great aplomb that doesn’t carry into the live performance.  While Oswell didn’t manage to keep his audience in stitches, he managed to at least keep up a steady stream of titters with moments of genuine laughter at the few high points. However, if you have come expecting to be treated to an evening of Fry and Laurie you will probably leave disappointed. An English Gentleman in New Orleans shows at Byrdie's Gallery (2242 St. Claude Ave.) Nov. 18-20 at 11 p.m. -Mark Folse. (Read more of Folse's reviews at ToulouseStreet.net)

Never Fight a Shark in Water

Never Fight a Shark in Water is more than a performance, it is a type of therapy for Gregory Bright, a New Orleans man who was wrongfully convicted of murder in the 1970’s by District Attorney Harry Connick, Sr. and subsequently spent over 25 years in Angola Prison before attaining his exoneration through perserverence and faith that justice would eventually win out.  Bright wears prison blues and walks the stage telling his story as it has been adapted by Lara Naughton, his collaborator and director. 

Naughton first met Bright after volunteering to help a group of exonerees shape their own life stories into replicable narratives for the speaking engagements that they are often invited to particpate in in community centers and churches.  She felt a special bond to Bright and continued to interview him beyond the initial one week time period and eventually amassed hundreds of pages of transcribed conversations.  She then wrote the play, which premiered last year with a professional actor. The New Orleans Fringe Fest is the first opportunity audiences have to see Gregory Bright perform the play himself with his own pacing, accent, and gestures.

Bright tells his story from the night of his arrest to his fearful time in OPP, from his absurd trial to his trip in the back of a van to Angola and then goes on to describe the hellish and merciless conditions of the prison—and the added layer of pain that came with knowing he was an innocent man trapped alongside truly dangerous men.  “Infinity is the size of Angola,” he says at one point.  “And the individual is tiny.”  

It is fascinating to watch Bright move around the room and recount his experiences.  He is reading written lines from a page, but also watching the memories slide by again against a background of the audience’s faces.  He has an even tone, devoid of melodrama or self-doubt.  Bright is a man not empowered by the weight of his victimization as some might be, but he is justifiably interested in sharing it in order to teach and reinforce his adopted strategy of forgiveness over hatred.  Still, for all the charisma Bright has, the show can’t help but reveal some tender, unprotected parts of his psyche, and it is apparent that performing the play is as emotionally complicated for him as it is for the audience to experience. 

Shark isn’t the type of performance that sits easily alongside the more free-spirited or challenging acts of Fringe Fest this year, despite the fact that a non-professional actor carries the whole show on his shoulders.  It isn’t weird or out there; in fact, it’s the type of show that could play in almost any metro area on any given weekend, and we need more of this type of theater in NOLA on a regular basis. The only challenge is to your readiness to sit face-to-face with the full force of this kind of story, trapped in a room with it as opposed to reading about it on an easily escapable page.

Never Fight a Shark in Water plays Nov. 18 and 19 at 7 p.m. in the Lupin Theatre at NOCCA (2800 Chartres). -Ryan Sparks

domestic variations

The performers from Seattle group “ticktock”—billing themselves as the Pacific Northwest’s only post-modern aerial circus and dance company—made themselves right at home last night in the Den of Muses for their show domestic variations.  The high-flying piece features acrobatics, trapeze work, and modern dance, all in an attempt to explore the notions of home and domesticity.

As the piece opens, a soundtrack of recorded voices begins, women describing photographs from childhood, the people, places, and events.  The voices are lighthearted, but also imbued with nostalgia and longing, and the attempts to describe the photographs often sound like an attempt to understand the past.  As the voices carry on, three performers—Sage Cushman, Rachel Strickland, and Elizabeth Rose (who is also the Artistic Director of the show)—crowd together on a single trapeze over a four-poster bed, engaging in a tight choreography that brings them together like a family, loving and playful. 

This juxtaposition sets the tone of the entire performance, as the graceful acrobatics - performed in silence by the dancers, but sound-tracked by music or found noise - evoke whirlwinds of emotion from the audience.  One performer makes a pot of tea on a trapeze hanging over a gas stove as Johnny Cash plays over the sound system, a visceral display of strength and loneliness.  Another scrubs a bathtub to Dinosaur Jr., using the shower curtain rail as a jungle-gym, the solo piece moving seamlessly from exuberance to sadness.  A group piece finds Cushman, Strickland, and Rose all playing delightedly in the four-poster bed, flinging their bodies around the space in a controlled chaos like a pack of children up past their bed time.

The choreography is precise, both evocative and provocative; the performers are strong acrobats graceful dancers, and skilled silent actors; the set is cold and industrial, but draped with the comforts of home. The result is a physical and emotional tension that keeps the piece taut throughout, making domestic variations one of the best of the fest. The show runs Nov. 18 at 9 pm; Nov 19 at 11 pm and Nov. 20, 9 pm -Brad Rhines

Tap and Unfailing Prayers to St. Anthony

“We’re going to look like fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance,” proclaims St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things, upon being summoned by Gene, the principal character. Tap and Unfailing Prayers to St. Anthony is a short form science fiction fantasy piece about…tap dance. It is a surprising combination that works. Gene, played by the playwright and choreographer David Hathway, is an affable, rudderless soul still figuring out life on planet Ankaios.
David Hathway is certainly luminous, but Jonathan Butler-Duplessis steals the show in his very small turn as the singing, soft-shoeing, hat-tipping St. Anthony. Though his role as the saint is small, he returns as later as another character named Rossum.

The script is mostly solid, if somewhat loose-ended at times. A few confusing liberties are taken with character exits, such as an unexpected birth and a vignette of storytelling within the story set beneath a black light, but neither of these detract from the humble sweetness of the rest of the show. The costumes are simple and LaToya Codner, who plays the Pretty Girl, does an excellent job in makeup design.

The true standout in this show is dance itself. There were times when members of the audience were literally on the edge of their seats (including this reviewer) and the show peaked with a whirling dervish of a dance by Hathway that elicited gasps from several people. Hathway is a creative and multitalented gem.
The only other issue worth noting were a few lighting and sound cues, but other than that, this quirky dance sci-fi piece is an imaginative look at how powerful dance can be.

If you’re looking for truly fringe pieces during this festival, this should be on your list. Tap and Unfailing plays at the Shadowbox Theater, 2400 St. Claude Ave., two more times during the festival. The show plays again November 19 at 9 p.m. and November 20 at 7 p.m. -Champ Superstar

Button Wagon

On Thursday night, the Mardi Gras Zone warehouse took on the tenor of the mini-ampitheatre below Woldenberg Park just before April. From the first minute Ember Bria began her awkward, plodding, contorting move across the stage, the younger members of the audience were in stitches. By the late stages of Button Wagon, it was Bria who would be sewn through, as an equally oversized spool of yarn where she happened to be sitting was threaded by her needle-toting counterpart Poki. But she escaped, just in time for an acrobatic, joint-splaying display by the pair to close out the performance, and bring the enthralled crowd to their feet.

Hailing from the unlikely Big Top breeding ground of Penasco, New Mexico, the pair put on a loosely structured, physically captivating show. They played off each other magically, as Bria excelled in her effort to test the limits of human flexibility, and Poki was happy to mime situations with props for cheap laughs. Watching him mimic a wind storm with an umbrella, and balance those giant needles on his nose, the crowd took such delight that they had no clue he was only warming up for the ultimate prop: his partner, Bria.

The show’s street-performance vibe cannot be overstated, as any sort of narrative arc was lacking, and the onus was put on the dazzling performance that would keep a crowd rapt, and filling the tip hat. Locating the show precisely in front of St. Louis Cathedral and not some other old, European spire, Bria even spent a minute singing Satchmo’s “What a Wonderful World.” But the audience probably didn’t even notice. They were too busy being enthralled by the moments of onstage magic. Button Wagon hit the crowd with old-fashioned awe. Pass the hat this way. The show runs Nov. 18 at 9 p.m., Nov. 19 at 5 p.m. and Nov. 20 at 11 p.m. –Kermit N. Mudgely