Michael Meigs, Austin Live Theatre
(www.austinlivetheatre.com)
From Andalucía to Appalachia via Austin
by Michael Meigs
The Wondrous Strange Players have evolved and developed in Darwinian fashion despite the difficulties of schisms, bootstrapping and homelessness, and they now occupy a real theatrical space at the cavernous Community Renaissance Market at William Cannon and Westgate. They're still staging in the western corridor of what used to be an Albertson's grocery store, but they've acquired tall black drapes, rigging, and simple lighting instruments sufficient to turn it into an enclosed theatre in the round. Or, to be exact, a theatre space and low platform with seating on either side.
Michael Floyd's production of Blood Wedding by Federico García Lorca is a similar step up and an audacious reach for a core group long dismissed by traditional media. The story of this classic 1932 play by the wildly gifted Spanish poet is essentially one of bad blood between families, fatal passion and a runaway bride.
García Lorca's achievement was to endow the simple peasants and the tawdry events with the enormous dignity of poetry. A rural widow has lost her husband and one son to blood feuds, and her remaining son wishes to marry a girl related to the killers. Central characters are unapologetically archetypes, denominated as such in the text: The Mother, The Groom, The Bride, The Moon, and so on. One alone bears a name: Leonardo (Austen Simien), the married young farmer who has been riding his horse to a lather late at night and will inevitably swoop down upon the wedding party to carry away the Bride (Novia - Cameron Holmes) whom he courted for three years and then abandoned.
The Spanish original is a breath-taking feat of poetic creation. Early scenes are written largely in prose but with short, vigorous exchanges, concrete images, with a rhythm very like the stichomythia of Greek drama. García Lorca opens the second scene with a starkly simple lullaby sung as stanza and reply by Leonardo's wife and mother-in-law, but it's no traditional verse: with its theme of a wild horse, running blood and flight through the mountains it directly foreshadows the developments of the plot. For wedding preparations, the celebration by the guests and the flight the playwright provides other songs and monologues, moving the text from prose to verse.
By the final act he is writing entirely in blank verse of great power. For example, as Leonardo and the Bride stop on the mountainside, ringed in by pursuers, they empty their hearts to one another, embracing the inevitability of their lawless passion.
[...]
An English-language version of this 1936 Spanish classic must deal with a number of choices. Translation is the first, of course -- for example, anyone familiar with both languages could scan the above 17-line excerpt and question word choices, rhythm or interpretation. Style is the next point. García Lorca's choice of language, style and music suggest a lyrical and stylistic presentation, even with some aspects of ballet. The Wondrous Strange company use a naturalistic style, instead, which entirely changes the sense of the piece. For example, in their desperate duo scene on the mountainside, containing the poet's exploration of the themes of passion, Leonardo (Austen Simien) and the kidnapped/runaway Bride (Cameron Holmes) speak emphatically, emotionally and in a great rush, with no poetic effect. Simien and Holmes are articulate and attractive, but their message is anything but eternal; they're passionate and confused.
The mother-daughter lullaby between Anne Gomez Guzman and Christi Climans in scene two is delivered in an unimaginative chant, undercutting the imagery. In contrast, Kat Edmondson as the Bridesmaid sings the wedding celebration song with great musicality and effect.
The decision to situate the action in Appalachia is appropriate, using the traditions of blood feuds, isolation and poverty. But I would suggest that no mountain-hollow farmer would be caught dead carrying out his daily chores in jeans or overalls torn wide open at the knee and he probably wouldn't whip out a cell phone when asked for the time. Steven Brandt is a convincing presence as the aspiring Groom, although it would have been useful if the director had worked with him to minimize the eye-rolling and facial tics when he dialogues with his mother (Terrie Cooper, in an unadorned and effective portrayal).
In keeping with the narrative re-interpretation of the piece, Floyd chooses to present the final confrontation and knife-fight onstage, at the center platform, in deliberately stylized fashion. The playwright wrote it offstage and invisible, marked only by the gesture of the Beggar (Death - Casey Allen) stretching his robes as offstage music suddenly stops. (I'd have preferred to see more of Allen's face, even though García Lorca specifies that the character is veiled or hidden most of the time.)
In the final scene the Bride appears in the house where the women are lamenting. She is wearing her white bridal gown but it has been splashed with blood. That's a director's choice, for the playwright specifies only that she is wearing a dark shawl or cloak, a formal sign of mourning. It's a strong moment but to my mind it immediately recalled the crass poster image from Brian De Palma's 1976 film Carrie.
Sound design is evocative as prelude and accompaniment.
The Wondrous Strange Players deliver a challenging and intense evening with this piece. The narrative style is relatively ghostly ghouly, along the Halloween traditions of local theatre, but that is consistent with their own history. Certain company members do not have the verbal confidence or the body sense of formal theatrical training, but all show courage and heart in undertaking this challenging work.
From Andalucía to Appalachia via Austin
by Michael Meigs
The Wondrous Strange Players have evolved and developed in Darwinian fashion despite the difficulties of schisms, bootstrapping and homelessness, and they now occupy a real theatrical space at the cavernous Community Renaissance Market at William Cannon and Westgate. They're still staging in the western corridor of what used to be an Albertson's grocery store, but they've acquired tall black drapes, rigging, and simple lighting instruments sufficient to turn it into an enclosed theatre in the round. Or, to be exact, a theatre space and low platform with seating on either side.
Michael Floyd's production of Blood Wedding by Federico García Lorca is a similar step up and an audacious reach for a core group long dismissed by traditional media. The story of this classic 1932 play by the wildly gifted Spanish poet is essentially one of bad blood between families, fatal passion and a runaway bride.
García Lorca's achievement was to endow the simple peasants and the tawdry events with the enormous dignity of poetry. A rural widow has lost her husband and one son to blood feuds, and her remaining son wishes to marry a girl related to the killers. Central characters are unapologetically archetypes, denominated as such in the text: The Mother, The Groom, The Bride, The Moon, and so on. One alone bears a name: Leonardo (Austen Simien), the married young farmer who has been riding his horse to a lather late at night and will inevitably swoop down upon the wedding party to carry away the Bride (Novia - Cameron Holmes) whom he courted for three years and then abandoned.
The Spanish original is a breath-taking feat of poetic creation. Early scenes are written largely in prose but with short, vigorous exchanges, concrete images, with a rhythm very like the stichomythia of Greek drama. García Lorca opens the second scene with a starkly simple lullaby sung as stanza and reply by Leonardo's wife and mother-in-law, but it's no traditional verse: with its theme of a wild horse, running blood and flight through the mountains it directly foreshadows the developments of the plot. For wedding preparations, the celebration by the guests and the flight the playwright provides other songs and monologues, moving the text from prose to verse.
By the final act he is writing entirely in blank verse of great power. For example, as Leonardo and the Bride stop on the mountainside, ringed in by pursuers, they empty their hearts to one another, embracing the inevitability of their lawless passion.
[...]
An English-language version of this 1936 Spanish classic must deal with a number of choices. Translation is the first, of course -- for example, anyone familiar with both languages could scan the above 17-line excerpt and question word choices, rhythm or interpretation. Style is the next point. García Lorca's choice of language, style and music suggest a lyrical and stylistic presentation, even with some aspects of ballet. The Wondrous Strange company use a naturalistic style, instead, which entirely changes the sense of the piece. For example, in their desperate duo scene on the mountainside, containing the poet's exploration of the themes of passion, Leonardo (Austen Simien) and the kidnapped/runaway Bride (Cameron Holmes) speak emphatically, emotionally and in a great rush, with no poetic effect. Simien and Holmes are articulate and attractive, but their message is anything but eternal; they're passionate and confused.
The mother-daughter lullaby between Anne Gomez Guzman and Christi Climans in scene two is delivered in an unimaginative chant, undercutting the imagery. In contrast, Kat Edmondson as the Bridesmaid sings the wedding celebration song with great musicality and effect.
The decision to situate the action in Appalachia is appropriate, using the traditions of blood feuds, isolation and poverty. But I would suggest that no mountain-hollow farmer would be caught dead carrying out his daily chores in jeans or overalls torn wide open at the knee and he probably wouldn't whip out a cell phone when asked for the time. Steven Brandt is a convincing presence as the aspiring Groom, although it would have been useful if the director had worked with him to minimize the eye-rolling and facial tics when he dialogues with his mother (Terrie Cooper, in an unadorned and effective portrayal).
In keeping with the narrative re-interpretation of the piece, Floyd chooses to present the final confrontation and knife-fight onstage, at the center platform, in deliberately stylized fashion. The playwright wrote it offstage and invisible, marked only by the gesture of the Beggar (Death - Casey Allen) stretching his robes as offstage music suddenly stops. (I'd have preferred to see more of Allen's face, even though García Lorca specifies that the character is veiled or hidden most of the time.)
In the final scene the Bride appears in the house where the women are lamenting. She is wearing her white bridal gown but it has been splashed with blood. That's a director's choice, for the playwright specifies only that she is wearing a dark shawl or cloak, a formal sign of mourning. It's a strong moment but to my mind it immediately recalled the crass poster image from Brian De Palma's 1976 film Carrie.
Sound design is evocative as prelude and accompaniment.
The Wondrous Strange Players deliver a challenging and intense evening with this piece. The narrative style is relatively ghostly ghouly, along the Halloween traditions of local theatre, but that is consistent with their own history. Certain company members do not have the verbal confidence or the body sense of formal theatrical training, but all show courage and heart in undertaking this challenging work.
