2 Actors, 12 Suspects, and 1 Piano
By Ardencie Hall-Karambe
What do you
get when you mix Alfred Hitchcock, Jerry Lewis, and cabaret? Murder for Two at
Suzanne Roberts Theatre that’s what!
The setting looks as if it is the backstage of a
theatre with traveling trunks, a rolling stage light, and a wooden chair all
scattered about the stage. A red drape is pulled back to reveal a brick wall,
while center stage holds a highly polished baby grand. Piano music begins to
play. House lights dim, thunder claps, and the rolling stage light is switched
on throwing a beam onto an odd array of items resting on an upturned trunk. The
objects cast the shadow of an old mansion on the exposed brick. And so it
begins…
Kyle Branzel and Ian Lowe’s high-energy adventure
into the realm of murder, love, and mystery mixed with madcap zaniness and
crazy piano skills (these dudes can play the keys) keep Murder For Two fast-paced and the audience interested. It is a
mystery, and not wanting to give anything away, I will just say the usual
suspects are present. What makes the production so intriguing and somewhat
challenging, at times, to watch is the performances of the two actors in a
musical with 14 characters. Yes, you read that correctly 2 actors play 14
characters in a musical. Did I mention they are the pit…piano players too? Well, they are and wonderfully so!
Mr. Branzel plays “The Suspects”; 12 different
characters 11 of whom might be the murderer, while the 12th is the
actor playing himself. “The Suspects” are women, including an always stretching
and posing ballerina, men of various ages, and three young boys—too young,
according to the script, to be in attendance at a murder. Mr. Branzel skills as
an artist are spot on for the most part. He has strong performance abilities, taking
on each character’s physical, vocal, and emotional qualities with easy and
grace. This turnstile revolving
door-like action could not have always easy because at points multiple characters
appeared right after another, yet he switches them quickly and effectively
taking on their mannerisms and voices. With the addition of glasses and
repetitive characteristics that allow us to know which character is currently
speaking, Mr. Branzel delightfully shifts between the certifiable array of suspects.
His performance is focused and a bit mesmerizing; although, he had one moment in
which I saw his energy wane; he wasn’t speaking at the time. He did quickly
recover, however, and went onto display the multiple characters in their full
gamut. He was truly fun to watch! During his performance, Mr. Branzel
established dialects and movements for several the characters giving them
idiosyncratic mannerisms that were still present during the characters’ song
and dance numbers. He is a physical performer with excellent comic skills reminiscent
of other comic physical actors like Jerry Lewis. Mr. Branzel is a skilled
pianist as well playing many of the show’s numbers along side Mr. Lowe in
compositions written for four hands or accompanying the other for solo numbers.
Ian Lowe plays “Marcus” the small town police
officer who dreams of becoming a detective and is “recovering” from a previous
partnership gone badly. His schoolboy looks and charm make him instantly
likable. We can identify with him because he is a simple guy—following
protocol, bucking for promotion, and falling for the wrong person. He is the
average Joe. Mr. Lowe’s skills as an actor, singer, and musician are equal to
his co-star’s. His delivery of lines is swift, but it was easy to see the
thought behind them. His physicality has a classic touch of melodrama in its
execution, which inspires laughter at times. However, unlike Mr. Branzel, Mr.
Lowe plays only one character—the straight man. He is Dean Martin for Mr.
Branzel’s Jerry Lewis. He is the ringmaster of the circus. His comic timing and
stamina matches his unbridled partner’s perfectly. It is fun to watch the pair
find delight in something new or surprising in the other’s performance.
I say if you are in need of a good belly laugh,
great piano playing, and far-flung antics, may I suggest Murder for Two playing until June 28, 2015 at the Suanne Roberts
Theatre in Philadelphia.
_________________________________________________________________
I’m not sure where I first heard someone say, “Sometimes, it is best that when discussing race, whites should take a listening position.” It has, however, stuck and stayed with me, perhaps because I see the simple logic of the idea, or perhaps because most “whites” (and, like one of the playwrights in Hands Up, I distinguish Caucasian from white) avoid the subject. Let’s face it, the most obvious sign of white privilege is the luxury of not having to be concerned about race.
In the stirring and often raw compilation, Hands Up: 6 Playwrights, 6 Testaments, the authors convey their testaments of what it means to be black men in America today. The monologues, with titles like Superiority Fantasy,Holes in My Identity, and Abortion, tell of the triumphant highs and overwhelming lows as the audience sits, listens, and comprehends the impact of an internalized chasm of historical mistrust and inequality bubbling forth like hot lava from an erupting volcano.
In the stirring and often raw compilation, Hands Up: 6 Playwrights, 6 Testaments, the authors convey their testaments of what it means to be black men in America today. The monologues, with titles like Superiority Fantasy,Holes in My Identity, and Abortion, tell of the triumphant highs and overwhelming lows as the audience sits, listens, and comprehends the impact of an internalized chasm of historical mistrust and inequality bubbling forth like hot lava from an erupting volcano.
There is something very DuBoisian, double-consciousness laden, about the work as the authors look in, out, and through themselves to understand the society in which they try to live as free men. That double consciousness is refracted through the audience’s experience of floating in the black box space with glaring white stage lights beaming out from various points in the house, while a bright, sun-filled Father’s Day glared in through large windows overlooking Center City.
Close encounters with racism
The six testaments, commissioned by the New Black Fest, examine the historical impact of cultural misconceptions, stereotyping, racial profiling, and the overall Jim Crow, apartheid-like conditions many black men live under. Their stories differ because they are framed as the personal stories of close encounters with latent and overt racism — mostly manifested by the police — and the negative reactions to those encounters.
The cast, under the direction of Joanna Settle, is phenomenal; they represent African-American men varying in age, complexion, and sexual orientation. The pieces’ playing style alludes to the connective theme of uncertainty, with each character revealing his particular stain. The actors handle the language as well-trained thespians with a fondness for the Last Poets and Shakespeare. The musicality of the poetry is accented by live music, provided by Ill Doots, that is a fusion between urban, jazz, and blues. All combine and entwine as the artists weave in and out of the audience and the playing area. They want us to feel a part of their experiences; they want us to think about the current state of racial America; they want us know that Black Lives Matter.
__________________________________________________________
“Runway, Prossy run!” A
review of Cheril Clarkes’ ASYLUM
by Ardencie Hall-Karambe
Never give
up. Always Persevere.
Like the heads of snakes, directors navigate the serpentine-like conduits of a theatrical production’s course leading the cast and crew to the highest level of artistic excellence availed for that production team. That is the ideal. ASYLUM is powerful in telling the story of Prossy (Tiffany Barrett)—an Ugandan woman who is arrested and scheduled for an honor killing by her father because she is a lesbian. Prossy escapes to England and is appealing her denial for political asylum, for she must convince a jaded official that her story is true or else be returned to a homeland that sees her as an abomination before God. Watching ASYLUM, I saw glimpses of promise in the telling of a real-life saga, but the awkward and, at times, flat direction caused the production to fall short in reaching the award-winning play’s potential. This true story is one of triumph over adversity, and playwright Cheril N. Clarke handles the subject matter well, but the director’s, Kash Goins’, interpretation is thin.
Clarke’s retelling of Prossy’s escape is full of tension, beauty, sacrifice, and love. It is easy to see that the forbidden love story captivated her as the female characters show depth-giving insight into the emotional and psychological impact of the situation. However, Mr. Goins’ direction often had me wondering: “Why…?” One example is the monologue delivered by Moses (Michael Way), Prossy’s suitor by traditional arrangement, upon finding Prossy with Leah (Brennie Tellu), her female lover. Prossy father’s, Balondemu (Steve Crum) has beaten Leah unconscious and dragged Prossy into the streets as Moses’ monologue begins. Quickly, it falls flat. The style of delivery didn’t help to illustrate the speech’s purpose in play, and Way’s handling of the text is awkward; he seems to have no solid connection to the words or understanding of the subtext he is trying to convey. During the monologue, his blocking doesn’t fit with the progression of the scene; his kinetics read of nervousness not a man deceived and angry. The director needed to give the actor more stage (physical) business in order build the scene up to the crisis moment when seemingly mild-mannered Moses drags Leah out into the streets. Instead, it turns into a comic moment.
Along with the strong script, the production contained several strong actresses, whose portrayals of women burden by misogynistic values and questionable ideals find their mark again and again. The aforementioned Barrett and Tellu along with Nancy Marie, Michelle Pauls, and Janan Ashton each have wonderful moments. Barrett and Tellu work well together. It was delightful to watch their characters’ passion and love grow; however, their moments could have been heightened more the by ebb and flow of scene building—the kind that happens when blocking’s purpose is practiced. Blocked more for film than stage, the actresses continuously faced each, not kinetically inviting the audience into scenes and, therefore, lacking in building and releasing tension through staging. The tension was heard in the actresses’ line delivery but not seen in the blocking. That’s the director’s work.
Like the heads of snakes, directors navigate the serpentine-like conduits of a theatrical production’s course leading the cast and crew to the highest level of artistic excellence availed for that production team. That is the ideal. ASYLUM is powerful in telling the story of Prossy (Tiffany Barrett)—an Ugandan woman who is arrested and scheduled for an honor killing by her father because she is a lesbian. Prossy escapes to England and is appealing her denial for political asylum, for she must convince a jaded official that her story is true or else be returned to a homeland that sees her as an abomination before God. Watching ASYLUM, I saw glimpses of promise in the telling of a real-life saga, but the awkward and, at times, flat direction caused the production to fall short in reaching the award-winning play’s potential. This true story is one of triumph over adversity, and playwright Cheril N. Clarke handles the subject matter well, but the director’s, Kash Goins’, interpretation is thin.
Clarke’s retelling of Prossy’s escape is full of tension, beauty, sacrifice, and love. It is easy to see that the forbidden love story captivated her as the female characters show depth-giving insight into the emotional and psychological impact of the situation. However, Mr. Goins’ direction often had me wondering: “Why…?” One example is the monologue delivered by Moses (Michael Way), Prossy’s suitor by traditional arrangement, upon finding Prossy with Leah (Brennie Tellu), her female lover. Prossy father’s, Balondemu (Steve Crum) has beaten Leah unconscious and dragged Prossy into the streets as Moses’ monologue begins. Quickly, it falls flat. The style of delivery didn’t help to illustrate the speech’s purpose in play, and Way’s handling of the text is awkward; he seems to have no solid connection to the words or understanding of the subtext he is trying to convey. During the monologue, his blocking doesn’t fit with the progression of the scene; his kinetics read of nervousness not a man deceived and angry. The director needed to give the actor more stage (physical) business in order build the scene up to the crisis moment when seemingly mild-mannered Moses drags Leah out into the streets. Instead, it turns into a comic moment.
Along with the strong script, the production contained several strong actresses, whose portrayals of women burden by misogynistic values and questionable ideals find their mark again and again. The aforementioned Barrett and Tellu along with Nancy Marie, Michelle Pauls, and Janan Ashton each have wonderful moments. Barrett and Tellu work well together. It was delightful to watch their characters’ passion and love grow; however, their moments could have been heightened more the by ebb and flow of scene building—the kind that happens when blocking’s purpose is practiced. Blocked more for film than stage, the actresses continuously faced each, not kinetically inviting the audience into scenes and, therefore, lacking in building and releasing tension through staging. The tension was heard in the actresses’ line delivery but not seen in the blocking. That’s the director’s work.
What, When, Where
ASYLUM by Cheril
N. Clarke
Directed by Kash Goins
June 24-26, 2015
The Stagecrafters Theater, 8130 Germantown Avenue,
Philadelphia, PA
Photo
by Cheril Clarke
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