Jim Panttaja

Every night is special at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. It may be a preview, an opening, there is an understudy performing, it is raining in the outdoor theater, and so on. Last night was the closing night of the Pulitzer Prize winning play by David Lindsay-Abaire, Rabbit Hole.

I had been warned that this was a three hankie play. I don’t want to say too much about the play itself, because I think it is best viewed not knowing exactly where it is going. My daughter’s boyfriend, Tom had seen the play before and said that this play is best viewed the first time (though he liked this production).

In Illuminations (a publication of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival), there is an interview with David Lindsay-Abaire where he says that when he was at Julliard, he was told to write about the thing that most frightens him. The play is about a family coping (and not coping) with the death of a child. He (and this production) create for us the very different and very real lives that this incident created for each of the people around the child. Each person is coping in their own way. Each is affected in a different way. And they can’t (and fortunately don’t have to) play out their part alone. I think that is why I didn’t find myself reaching for my hankie (though there were certainly tears several times). Everyone realized that they couldn’t work through their pain by themselves – and couldn’t work through it only in way they wanted to.

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One of the things that I found special about the evening, was that even though is was closing night for this play, there was nothing about the performance that felt out of the ordinary. It was probably like the many other performances of the four months of this show. Except I think I noticed Bill Geisslinger take an extra look around the stage before he walked off after the curtain call.

We have seen several of August Wilson’s cycle of ten plays at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Gem of the Ocean is chronologically the first – set it 1904. The first that we saw in Ashland was Joe Turner’s Come and Gone in 1993. These have always been strong productions, and last night’s stood out among those productions.

At the curtain, two of the actors were especially affected by their own performance. Shona Tucker (Black Mary), who had just made the transition that set her on the path to carry the legacy of spiritual advisor, disowns her brother. You could see the emotion on her face, and on her body as she took her bow.

Kevin Kenerly (Citizen Barlow) has also just taken on a legacy. He has picked up the coat, hat and stick of Solly Two Kings who has just been killed. During the play, Kennerly was stooped by his internal pain. After the play you could see that he was stooped with emotion.

These two actors – along with the rest of the company – pulled me in to this time and this world. They helped me know and feel the pain of this heritage, and this era.

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Thai Pepper continues to be my favorite restaurant in Ashland (though the week is young – who knows what we might find). Few restaurant’s in Ashland can handle a party of 17 smoothly. Of course we helped – Mary placed our order when we made the reservation (It is tricky accommodating a variety of diet restrictions) – and we made the reservation for 5:30 – getting us easily to the Green Show at 7:15. We also save time at dinner because there are options for around town while we walk back to the theatre.

This is our 20th year visiting the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, Oregon. We have arrived [see Mary's post: Summer Theatre Begins], and now seen our first play (some of us saw The Tempest, and others As You Like It).

For our four year old granddaughter, this is her fifth year at the festival. We wore her out yesterday running and swimming. As we waited for dinner, she asked to sit on my lap. Two minutes later, it was clear she was going to sleep through dinner. I was able to lay her down next to me so I could eat my dinner. As we finished dinner, she woke from her well planned nap (woke enough so that I could carry her) – and we went to the Green Show – the highlight of her visit (my niece will see her first play later this week – now that she is six).

As a rotating repertory theater – we are able to see many plays (seven this year) in a short visit. And we are able to see actors multiple times – often in very different roles. And – having visited the festival for 20 years – we can see actors in many plays over the years. Of course not every actor comes back year after year – but there are many who do – sometimes with a gap in years.

Last night, Derrick Lee Weeden played Prospero. He can disappear on stage when appropriate – but he is at his best in a big role like Prospero where he is meant to command the stage whenever he is on it. His voice can boom, or draw you in to a conspiratorial moment. And every word is there – clear – meaningful. And this performance was not his Othelo, or Coriolanus, Harold Looomis in Joe Turner’s Come and Gone (perhaps the first time I saw him here – 14 years ago).

Another notable performance last night was Dan Donohoe as Caliban – under his make-up and costume, it took awhile to convince myself it was him. He groveled and winced his way through the play – not at all his Hal from Henry IV, Part One and Two, or certainly not his incredible Dvornichek from Rough Crossing. But brilliant.

Four more days (plus the drive home) to enjoy with four generations of our family – about seventeen of us in all. Food, plays, talk. Talk about food, talk about plays, and just talk.

We attended A Moon for the Misbegotten in New York this week. There were many plays to choose from, and only one night for theater while we were in New York. We appealed to our daughter and her boyfriend for advice, and looked at the listings. Through intelligent processes – or luck, we chose A Moon for the Misbegotten. This production was brought to Broadway from the Old Vic in London, and stars its artistic director Kevin Spacey, Colm Meaney and Eve Best (who I had never heard of – but who is nominated for a Tony award for this performance).

The production was wonderful – with incredibly strong performances. The first act was full of caricatures – which had me put off a bit at intermission. But the caricatures in the first act were essential to the second act.

What surprised me about the play – were the sets. They reminded me of the magic that is the theater (or at least can be). When we walked in – the main set piece was striking. It is a rough cabin – whose angles defy gravity and the rules of geometry. But when the lights came up – and some music and sound effects started – you were in a different place. We weren’t in Manhattan anymore. That transition took seconds, and was accomplished well before the first actor appeared on stage.

To be clear, the actors did their part as the evening went by. The intermission arrived with a bit of a jolt – had we been there long enough yet?

It was a worthy production regardless, but it reminded me of the magic that the sets, lighting and sound create.

On Sunday I attended a performance of the Healdsburg Community Band at the new Gazebo in downtown Healdsburg, California. (Pictures of the event from the Press Democrat) I attended this in the saxophone section where I now rehearse (on those Tuesday nights when I am in town), and perform. The band is 30 years old and accepts any adult or high school student who expresses an interest. Some members have played for years, and some haven’t played in years when they join the group. And some of us move among sections depending on our favorite instrument du Jour. My son played in the group through his high school years and played three or four different instruments in those four years. After ten years playing in the flute and piccolo section, I have now played about four years in the saxophone section.

I enjoy concerts – but I particularly enjoy them from the inside. I once was on a business trip in Amsterdam, and mentioned that I would love to attend a concert at the famous Concertgebouw. One of my hosts told me after lunch that there was a ticket waiting for me that eveing at will call. I asked what it was for – and he didn’t know – and I didn’t care.

When I arrived for the performance, I discovered it was to be Handel’s Messiah. When I walked up to my designated door to go in to the theater, there was a long line of men and women in tuxedos and black dresses. I thought ‘they sure seem to dress up more in Amsterdam’ – I got to the back of the line, and then realized this was the choir. Much to my surprise – and pleasure, my seat was one row behind the choir. Perhaps not the best place to ‘hear’ the piece – but an incredible place to be part of the piece. Every time the conductor queued the tenors I felt like joining in – because he was signaling me. Fortunately I resisted that impulse. But I did get a very different sense of the piece, and a feeling of the energy generated by the conductor and the singers that you would never get ‘out front’.

And it is this same feeling I get in the saxophone section of the Healdsburg Community Band, reacting to the queues of the conductor, noticing the energy of those around me (sometimes anxious over a coming entrance – or over standing to play the piccolo solo in The Stars and Stripes Forever; sometimes looking forward to a favorite riff). I sit there and think about important musicians and people who enjoy music in my life and about my own entrances and favorite parts. And I play my instrument – trying to sound better than I every have – and perhaps better than I ever will.