St. Louis Eats and Drinks With Joe and Ann Pollack

Shlemiel the First

"Schlemiel the First" would be worth seeing for some of us if only for hearing Joanna Elkanna-Hale sing "Yenta's Blintzes". Elkanna-Hale, playing the rabbi's wife in this tale of the mystical town of Chelm, can be appreciated by both the Opera Theatre crowd and the James Beard Award crowd for firmly letting her husband know what she thinks of his complaining about her cooking. Her treatment of the song is a potential show-stopper.

But Schlemiel is about far more than blintzes. Director Ed Coffield has pulled together a group of fine comedic actors, headed by the marvelous Terry Meddows, who's the schlemiel in question. He's the beadle at his synagogue, a sort of handyman/gopher/janitor who helps Todd Schaefer, the aforementioned rabbi. While the rabbi and the town's leading wise men, who include a couple of sock puppets, think the rabbi really smart, we know otherwise - who wouldn't like those blintzes? Schaefer, the glistening I'm-so-swell, and Meddows, the woebegone, make for a wonderful contrast.

The rabbi and his wise guys decide to send Schlemiel out on a world tour touting the rabbi's wisdom. Mrs. Schlemiel, played by Emily Baker, is none too happy about this - not that he's that great a husband, but still.... Need I say hilarity ensues?

Baker heads up the rest of the cast, as an island of calm in the midst of farce. Antonio Rodriguez moustache-twirls, metaphorically speaking, as Rascal. And watch for Mike Dowdy, who, like several of the cast, has multiple roles. His tricycle-riding kid is fine, but he peaks as a skipping, dancing wife in the village.

This is, of course, a musical, klezmer music, the clarinet-laced stuff that, to the untrained ear, still shows how it influenced people like George Gershwin. Henry Palkes, the music director, does right by the score and his musicians, with riffs off into other familiar tunes. A little choreography is fine and casual-seeming, just right for the setting, but extra points for Schaefer's exuberant prancing.

A fine night, even for those who didn't get exposed to the Borscht-Belt comedians of late-night television (and thus Yiddish) in the Fifties.

 

The New Jewish Theatre

Jewish Community Center

www.newjewishtheatre.org

through June 9

Million Dollar Quartet

Do you remember DIG Magazine? The first go-round of ponytails and DAs (the haircuts, not the attorneys), Teen Towns and guys who wanted to look like James Dean? Did you ever hear records referred to as "platters"? Then you need to quickly get yourself to the Fox Theatre to see "Million Dollar Quartet".

Based on the legendary Sun Records in Memphis and its creator Sam Phillips, the musical gives the rousing music of our mostly-sadly-unmisspent youth a fine showcase with performers in the roles of Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins. Unlike other shows is we've seen in recent years that attempt to re-create the music of, for instance, the Rat Pack, this one has scarcely a misstep.

Part of it is due to the respect shown to the music, arrangements close to the original, courtesy of Chuck Mead. But it's the actor-musicians that bring it home. Elvis impersonators, of course, are as common as houseflies, but Cody Slaughter not only looks right, when he opens his mouth, one could almost swear it's the young Elvis. David Elkins plays - and more significantly, sings - Johnny Cash; he, too, is amazingly correct and makes for some satisfying music. James Barry does well as Carl Perkins, and makes the point that "Blue Suede Shoes" was his song, written and recorded by him, before Presley recorded it in what's known as a "cover", and sang it on the Ed Sullivan Show. (Apparently, it took Perkins, perhaps not unreasonably, a long time to get over that.) Do be aware that Slaughter will only play the role through April 28; after that, Billy Woodward takes over.

And then there's Jerry Lee Lewis. He was always a favorite of mine - that piano, that piano! And this was before I saw him actually perform, flailing his arms, legs jerking, hair flying. Then I discovered that he was marrying his 13-year-old cousin, which put a considerable crimp in my adolescent admiration. But the music is irresistible still, and Ben Goddard knows his way around a keyboard, and a piano bench, for that matter. He plays the newcomer to the group, a rascal of a wild child with an ego that could stand up to any of the other three, but not Sam Phillips. Even when backing the others, it's hard to keep your eyes off Goddard's pianna-playin style.

Vince Nappo carries Phillips' strength well; he, too, is due for a replacement after April 28, and it'll be Scott Moreau. The bass player, who was Perkins' brother Jay, is Corey Kaiser, and keep an eye on him as well; Fluke, the drummer, is Billy Shaffer.

No intermission in a show that runs for right at 2 hours. Don't be fooled by the house darkening after the famous photo of the four is taken by Phillips; this is not the end of the show. (We lost at least one couple from our aisle.) There's more to come onstage; the studio in Memphis is replaced by Las Vegas glitz - the show is currently playing there at Harrah's, by the way - and it's still worthwhile. However, once Goddard/Lewis dons the sequined jacket and sits down again at the piano, one notices a certain resemblance to Elton John, but that's probably just the spangles prancing around.

Good lighting, and excellent sound that's loud but not ear-splittingly so, a relief to us all. But a big thumbs-down to the opening night audience who listened to "Brown Eyed Handsome Man" and the following conversation about Chuck Berry with nary a handclap after the discussion of his significance to rock and roll.

Rock and roll is here to stay, indeed. But Million Dollar Quartet is not, and if this is your music, by birth or by appreciation of retro, get a move on. It only runs through May 5.

 

Million Dollar Quartet

Fox Theatre

http://www.fabulousfox.com

through May 5

Gypsy

Stray Dog opened "Gypsy" this past weekend, and for a stray, it's clearly a purebred. Once upon a time, probably 90% of the American population had heard one or another of the songs from its wonderful score, whether or not they knew just where the song came from, so popular were they. And the score, with the lyrics that delighted me as a high school kid in a small town, is just as witty. Who knew about Steven Sondheim in those semi-halcyon days of the Eisenhower Administration? Obviously the creators of this show did, thank goodness, foreshadowing much greatness to come.

Led by Deborah Sharn as Rose, Queen of Chutzpah and stage mother of nightmares, the cast sparkles and stumbles, both at the right time. The band, for instance, sounds wonderfully rocky sometimes, just the way a pit band would in a second-rate burlesque house, and deliberately bad choreography works just as it should. Scharn, physically small, seems to enlarge herself with Rose's drive and demands. And who knew she could belt songs so well? If she can make a generation that heard Ethel Merman sing this score forget Merman even for a little while, that's compliment enough.

Herbie, their agent who quickly becomes Rose's boyfriend is played by Ken Haller, giving Herbie strength and warmth and dignity. Rose's put-upon and dragged-around daughters were June, who grew up to be actress June Havoc, and Louise, who became Gypsy Rose Lee, exotic dancer, author, and mother of a son by director Otto Preminger. The younger versions of the girls, played respectively by Lily McDonald and Isabella Koster, are quite good. But it's the women they grow into, despite Rose's self-delusion, that intrigue. Jennifer Theby-Quinn, as Dainty June, even looks a little like Havoc as she simply flees her mother's increasing demands and delusions. Sabra Sellers, who plays Louise, eventually begins to glow as she finds her own strength and way in the world. Her dance number with Tulsa, Zach Wachter, is impressive.

Yes, Rose is at best a pain in the gluteus, and at worst quite bonkers, but Gary Bell's direction shows the sadness and fear behind all this rather than the anger and pain It all works wonderfully. Strong suggestion that tickets be ordered in advance; this is going to be selling very well in quiet south St. Louis. Neighbors will hear folks leaving, whistling the tunes.

 

Gypsy

Stray Dog Theatre

www.straydogtheatre.org 

Tower Grove Abbey

2336 Tennessee Avenue

314-865-1995

Thurs.-Sat. through April 20

The Whipping Man

The Whipping Man is ugly and hard and absolutely stunning. Currently playing at the St. Louis Black Repertory, it's about slavery. Slavery, that is, over many millenia.

It's April of 1865, the Civil War has just ended, of course, and it's Richmond, Virginia. There's the slavery Americans tend to think about, over, at least legally, at last. And here's a Jewish family who have owned slaves for generations, their house barely standing and its denizens scattered.

The son of the house, wounded, drags himself home, a haggard example of the horrors of America's worst war. Two of the former slaves remain on the premises. They, like their parents before them, have been raised as observant Jews, and that, at least, remains unchanged despite their newfound status as freedmen. But the power has shifted dramatically, and how does one treat the person who once owned them the way he owned his hunting dogs?

And in this spring with green shoots of burgeoning hope and dramatic developments comes Passover, the celebration of being delivered from slavery. Yes, that was Egypt and the masters then were pharaonic, but since Moses had there ever been a Passover when the celebration was more vivid and heartfelt - even if the bitter herbs and shank bone were not quite the traditional ones?

Good casting in all three roles, but it's led by the Black Rep's own Ron Himes as Simon, who in prewar days must have carried sufficient gravitas in his household position to make Downton Abbey's Carson look like Woody Allen. The challenges of the war and the emancipation have given him knowledge and strength beyond that role, and Himes shows it all with great control. As the son, Justin Ivan Brown carries off things with the disadvantage of being immobile for nearly the entire show. Ron Conner played Martin Luther King earlier this year in "Mountaintop" on this same stage. It's hard to believe this is the same Ron Conner playing the younger ex-slave, John, the role is so different, but it seems no stretch for him at all.

In the first act, in particular, this is a difficult play for the squeamish. Audible gasps came from a number of audience members the night I saw it. But persevere. This is a carefully lit, tightly directed piece of work with plenty of new, disturbing things to ponder.

 

The Whipping Man

The St. Louis Black Repertory

314-534-3810

through April 13, 2013

Next To Normal

"Next to Normal" played at the Fox several years ago. If you liked it then, return to the former CBC's black box theater to see what New Line Theatre has done with it. This is a play that almost desperately needs a small venue, the better to catch the behavioral details of a story that's mostly about thinking rather than physical gestures.

It's the musical - no, certainly not a musical comedy - about bipolar disease, although the script certainly softens many of the very sharp edges of the diagnosis. Kimi Short, playing Diana, the woman with the diagnosis, is restrained in all but the most over-the-top moments, almost too flat under these conditions. Jeffrey M. Wright, her husband, whose world has surely altered considerably over the years of their marriage because of her illness reminds one of the saying"We marry at the level of our mental health - or lack thereof". Wright carries the weight well. Both psychiatrists fall into the capable hands of Zachary Allen Farmer. The second one, Dr. Madden, described to the couple as a rock star of psychiatrists, calls to mind both Gene Simmons in his KISS persona and MASH's gentle Sidney Freedman, not an easy duo to pair, but Farmer is flawless.

It's a show with a fine score. The voices are good, and the house band has been amped up with a violin and cello to add to the sound. And "amped up" might be a little too accurate; the sound balance, especially in the first act, was off, muffling the words to songs where lyrics are part of the fun, especially in "My Psychopharmacologist and I" which features a long list of psychotropic drugs. But it was difficult, often impossible to make out exactly what was being sung.

How much leeway artistic license can give (or take) with details on something as soul-searing as mental illness was the subject of a considerable amount of post-show discussion. Maybe for some, this is like the folks who don't like a movie because the soldiers are wearing shoulder patches of a unit that was actually stationed on another continent at the time the battle took place. It's an interesting question with no firm answers. But the softening of illness symptoms, the severity of electroconvulsive therapy's sequelae, and perhaps an inference that all this is just due to unresolved grief does require a considerable amount of the old willing suspension of disbelief for many.

Still, a strong cast and a good score win out. Runs through March 23.

 

Next to Normal

New LIne Theater

Washington University South Campus Theatre

314-534-1111

www.newlinetheatre.com

The Book of Mormon

"The Book of Mormon" opened Tuesday night at the Fox. Is there anyone interested in St. Louis theater that doesn't know it's sort of the anti-"Sound of Music"? It's packed to the earlobes with jokes, both verbal and non-, of the sort that will leave almost everyone in the audience thinking, "I can't believed I laughed at that."

Our heroes, Elder Price (the Mitt Romney-jawed Mark Evans) and the delightfully schlubby Elder Cunningham (Christopher John O'Neill) are sent out to do their two-year stint as missionaries. Price, the kind of guy Sweet Polly Purebred would swoon over, has been dreaming of Orlando as a base, since it seems so perfect, just like him. There's an old Yiddish proverb that translates roughly as "Man plans. God laughs." Not only does Price get science-fiction geek Cunningham as a partner, they send him to Uganda. And off we go.

Sly and not so sly references to elsewhere on Broadway slip in - not surprisingly, there's a fair amount of "Lion King", for instance. And bursts of Bob Fosse-style choreography performed by men dressed like managers at Steak 'n Shake is nothing short of fabulous. In fact, the dancing is one of the forgotten highlights of this show.

Alas, another highlight, the lyrics, sometimes succumb to the still occasionally fragile temperament of the sound system at the Fox. Much better than a few years ago, but for a show like this where half the zing is in the zingers, it's a shame.

Don't go if you're easily offended by caricatures and jokes about AIDS, defecation, Starbucks and gloves that don't fit. It's hard to imagine a musical that talks about infundibulation, too. Artists since the beginning of time have set out to make people think, and one of the main ways they do that is to push the boundaries. (How old were you when you learned art wasn't just about what was beautiful?) The creators of "Mormon" are Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the "South Park" dudes, and Robert Lopez, who's a co-creator of "Avenue Q".  Lopez and his wife write songs for Disney musicals - how ironic is that? Whether or not they, particularly Parker and Stone, considered themselves artists early in their career, that's what they've done.

And extra credit to the entire cast who've learned the book well enough not to break up the entire show. I can only imagine what early rehearsals must have been like. I'm not sure if the New York Times was correct in calling it the best musical of the century - come on, we've got a couple of years yet to go - but it's remarkable.

 

The Fox Theatre

www.fabulousfox.com

 

through March 3, 2013

Lincoln

Regular readers know that our film and theater reviews stopped when Joe passed away in early March. Those well-polished loafers of his are ones I choose not to fill. But sometimes I find things that are too good not to discuss.

There's been a lot of ballyhoo about "Lincoln", as there is about all Steven Spielberg's films. I'd avoided said ballyhoo before I saw a screening of the film; now I find these discussions inadequate. Describing "Lincoln" in a 45-second spot or a 5-minute interview is impossible; the scope is just too large.

Nearly all the film is shot in the drabbed, slightly dusty light that is how we tend to think of the Victorian era. The golden lamp-like glow of many interior shots offsets to some degree the layers of velvet curtains and oceans of fringe and furbelows; that same light, often coming in from the side, lends some shots, particularly of some men in the House of Representatives gallery, the air of a Rembrandt portrait.

It's war time, of course, and we see plenty of the huge toll the Civil War extracted from us. Nevertheless, the focus is Lincoln's efforts to get the representatives to pass the 13th Amendment and how that would affect the end of the war, which is very close in the late winter of 1865. It's about the messiness of the political process, and seeing it just after the nastiness of the recent campaign makes it hit home even more. (The vitriol launched on the House floor during the debates on the amendment exceeds by far the acidity, still accepted, in the British House of Commons.) Tony Kushner's screenplay may at times feel a little too contemporary but it flies along. It should; this is 149 minutes long.

Daniel Day-Lewis , like Meryl Streep, has the ability to dissolve himself into the character, giving us the Lincoln we think we know, his son on his lap, and then a stranger, bellowing at his staff in a moment of supreme frustration. Tommy Lee Jones, playing Thaddeus Stevens, a powerful representative who's known as an outspoken abolitionist, is an absolute romp to watch and listen to.

This is a man's movie - that is to say, it's about men, and Mary Lincoln's role is quite secondary, so Sally Field's job is made more difficult. Her emotional difficulties, well-known, and probably a major depression, accounts for her flatness most of the time. St. Louisans who are theater-goers will recognize Stephen McKinley Henderson, here credited as Stephen Henderson, who appeared at the Rep and directed at the Black Rep. And watch for three "fixers", attempting to convince congressmen to vote for the amendment, guys, A. O. Scott in his New York Times says, who "could have stumbled out of Mark Twain".

The details can be exquisite: Listen to the Jollys of Jefferson City being presented to Lincoln to petition for the return of a toll-road job, for instance, Lincoln's storytelling, from trials in Illinois to Ethan Allen in London to quoting Euclid. And lastly, there's John Williams' score, spot on.

Definitely not just for the history buff.

 

Opens today, November 16 at several theaters.

Circus Flora: The Wizard

Circus Flora remains irresistible. Even in this age of reality television - and shouldn't that word have quotation marks surrounding it, indicating its dubious accuracy? - an even that brings spectators so close to living, breathing excitement is more than worthwhile.

This year's edition sparkles. Titled "The Wizard", the Arthurian theme allows for some splendid costumes, like those of Cecil MacKinnon, the narrator who plays Merlin himself. (I'd kill for that coat.) It also gives a little more framework for the story line than many of Flora's earlier works. And the sound system, blurry at first, cleared nicely before the end of the first half.

For those of us who are suckers for dog acts, Luciano's Pound Puppies kept necks swiveling, although it's hard to imagine the white standard poodle and the English bulldog could ever have been foundlings. The Flying Wallendas, fixtures at Flora for many years, return with familiar faces and their still-hypnotizing work on the high wire. Another constant and yet always-evolving group are the St. Louis Arches, the leaping, pyramiding, juggling kids who audiences have watched grow up and mentor the newest, smallest members.

Speaking of smallest, there are several things that makes Circus Flora a real family show. One is Nino, Giovanni Zoppe's endearing clown character, always creating shrieks of delight. Zoppe's new sidekick, his toddler son, is already a charmer, coached by dad and a happy young and tender ham. Another is the Bertini family, Dad, who also doubles as a chap wearing a snake, Mom and two daughters. The older one is able to join her parents on their unicycles; the younger one, wearing a blonde wig and a wide grin, can't do much yet except gesture widely to thank the audience for appreciating her. Oh, and her family, too, of course. And then there's the exits. Every one is manned by a gaggle of circus folk both adult and not-adult, thanking the guests for coming, answering questions, and giving even more of a close-up of the circus fairy dust.

Several daylight performances for those who need to have proper bedtimes, and indeed, some morning performances of a shortened version for those who still need that afternoon nap. The adventurous should hope for ringside seats, the better to appreciate the horses thundering by in the final act; the more timorous may appreciate some distance. But everyone can appreciate Circus Flora.

 

Circus Flora

just east of Powell Hall

314-289-4040

www.circusflora.org 

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No way

Tickets: $10-$44

We Need to Talk About Kevin

 

The title of this very disturbing movie, "We Need to Talk About Kevin," is about 15 years late. We, or his parents, should have been talking about Kevin at least a decade ago. It's far beyond solution now. The damage has been done and we, or his parents, are not only paying for it, but also will continue to do so for a long time.

A movie of the "Bad Seed" genre, highlighted for all time by Patty McCormack's dazzling portrayal of Rhoda Penmark, way back in 1956, Kevin is her male counterpart, perhaps even more deadly. Practically from his birth, Kevin shows virulent antipathy to his mother, an outstanding performance by Tilda Swinton. Three boys, Rock Duer, Jasper Newell and Ezra Miller are Kevin as an infant, a child and an adolescent, and all are scary. Director Lynne Ramsay has brought exceptional work from them as they quietly challenge and defeat their mother. An earlier Ramsay film, "The Lovely Bones," also showed an exceptional touch with fear and terror.

Swinton, pale, lovely and distraught, has a difficult role and delivers in splendid style. As Eva, a sophisticated, successful travel writer, she has carved out a good place in her life, but she abandons it for home and family. John C. Reilly, always with spot-on depictions, is a kind of bumbling guy who just cannot imagine that a child could cause such mental anguish.

But the infant's screams are louder than a sidewalk drill, and his expression as he defies his parents in terms of toilet training is remarkable. Anyone who has been a parent, or even dealt with younger siblings, will understand Eva's frustration, and maybe Kevin's triumph.

There are a number of loose ends and unanswered questions along the way, but Ramsay's pacing, and the outstanding contributions from composer Jonny Greenwood and cinematographer Seamus McGarvey make Kevin a compelling character and the movie a gripping experience.

We Need to Talk About Kevin opens today.

-- Joe

Friends With Kids

Young people often take an unrealistic, or downright negative, approach to the fact that one always must take responsibility for his/her actions. Avoiding it only moves pay-up day down the road. And not realizing that it will happen, come what may, is a sure sign of arrested development.

Of course, it happens, and "Friends With Kids," while often hoping to become a comedy, provides proof.

Jennifer Westfeldt, who wrote, directed and stars, is Julie, and Adam Scott is Jason. Oh, they are great friends, but they aren't getting married, and they have good times with two married couples, Ben (Jon Hamm) and Missy (Kristen Wiig), and Alex (Chris O'Dowd) and Leslie (Maya Rudolph). Four of the six were in ":Bridesmaids," and these steps must have occurred after the wedding, or something. By the way, Hamm and Westfeld are an off-screen couple but did not want to replicate the relationship in a movie.

Anyway, Julie and Jason decide to have a baby who obviously will have all the fine and wonderful attributes that they themselves obviously possess. And they'll stay friends and date other people and share the responsibilities of rearing children.

So Julie dates Kurt (Edward Burns) and Jason dates Mary Jane (Megan Fox) and the awkward party of six turns into a nonsensical party of eight. Meanwhile, the kids who are a part of the title are left out of the rest of the movie. Westfeldt lacks the directorial experience to make all this run smoothly and, to my taste, she really hit a roadblock at the curtain line when all I could think of was the couplet from "Anything Goes," by Cole Porter, who wrote, "Good authors, too, who once knew better words now only use four-letter words writing prose."

Friends with Kids opens today.

--Joe