Jasper Wants YOUR Review of the Barbie Film!

In the 24 some odd hours since the movie Barbie has been released Jasper has been reading some fascinating insights and reviews on social media. Clearly, this film is serving as a catalyst for emotions, retrospection, contemplation — all the feels.

It strikes us here at Jasper that by sharing our thoughts about the film we might also grow as people, as film viewers, and as a community of individuals who want the best for our children, ourselves, and each other.

Please send us your personal reviews of Barbie as well as the take-away message you brought home with you. Your response is important and valid. We’ll publish a selection of them in next week’s Sundays with Jasper (subscribe at bottom of page link).

Just send your words to us as an email, a word doc, or a pasted clip from your socials and let us know if you are cool with us using your name or if you’d like to be anonymous. The email is JasperProjectColumbia@gmail.com and we’re looking forward to hearing what you think.

REVIEW: Trustus Theatre's Little Shop of Horrors is a Win!

“His Audrey II is a botanical Mae West.”

Once again Trustus Theatre knocks another show out of the ballpark. The Little Shop of Horrors was born as a movie way back in 1960. Directed by Roger Corman, the film featured (among others) a young Jack Nicholson. The musical adaptation opened Off-Broadway in 1982 as Little Shop of Horrors. It went on to open in the West End in 1983, Broadway in 2003, and has lived on in numerous tours and revivals, and countless community theatre productions. It has been produced more than once on various Columbia stages, with sold-out houses each time.

The show opens in a dark and dingy Skid Row. A Greek Chorus harkens back to the girl groups of the ‘50s in the prologue It’s funny, it’s sharp and it’s beautifully choreographed.

Our hero is Seymour Krelborn, an orphan employed in Mr. Mushnik’s run-down flower shop. (Of course it’s run-down. It’s in Skid Row.) His co-worker, Audrey, joins him in lamenting their lot and wondering if there is any escape to a better life. Seymour is seriously crushing on Audrey, bless his nebbish little heart. Audrey is in an abusive relationship with a frighteningly sadistic dentist. Mr. Mushnik bemoans the lack of business and wonders if it might be time to close the shop for the last time.

On the possible last day of business at Mushnik’s, Seymour comes in with a mysterious “exotic” plant. He suggests to Mushnik that if they put the plant in the front window, it might attract the customers they’ve been sadly lacking. With Audrey’s help, he convinces Mushnik to give it a try. Wondering what to call the plant, Seymour gallantly dubs it “Audrey II.”

Sadly, Audrey II weakens and appears to be dying despite Seymour’s valiant attempts to pamper and nurture. One evening, an accidental prick of Seymour’s finger gives Audrey II a taste of her favorite treat; the way to A2’s heart is blood. And chaos ensues….

Kristan Claiborne, Abby Smith, and Mel Driggers are the “Greek Chorus as Ronettes.”  They have gorgeous voices, and their tight harmonies are a counterpoint to the drab, dreary set and the drab dreary costumes and the scary underbelly of our story. “The human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to its very existence. And this terrifying enemy surfaced, as such enemies often do, in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places.” 

The residents of Skid Row, Seymour, Audrey, and Mushnik are all yearning for something more, something better. Audrey “can’t” leave her abusive boyfriend because she sees him as a way out. Audrey II seemingly gives these characters the answers to their dreams. But (and there’s always a “but”) at what price? How far are our loveable ragtag residents willing to go to make their dreams come true.

Jessica Fichter’s (Trustus Theatre’s executive director — see our interview with Ms. Fichter in the spring 2023 issue of Jasper Magazine) vision of the piece makes this so much more than a musical with a puppet. The inequities of society, the substandard living conditions in which a frightening number of people live, underemployment, and the greedy, vociferous specter of insatiable capitalism are brough to life with vivid clarity. The set puts the audience square in Skid Row with its haphazard angles and dim, dingy lighting. (Warning – there is a “fog” effect from time to time. Nothing major, but if your sinuses are sensitive you might want to sit further back.) Janet Kile’s costumes are realistic and evocative, and each character is dressed perfectly. Randy Moore outdid himself (again) as Musical Director. Matthew DeGuire served as Props Master, and I do hope he had a dozen people helping him backstage. What a herculean task that had to have been. Every technical aspect of this show was without visible flaw (and I say “visible” because all manner of chaos can happen without the audience ever knowing it). Every member of the crew deserves the same kudos as the cast.

And what a brilliant cast. (I’ll attempt to mention them in order of appearance.)  As mentioned earlier, the “Ronettes” were perfection. Applause again to Kristan, Abby, and Mel. Katrina Patrice is stunning and funny and spot on in every role she takes on, and her blonde wig was just the right touch (IYKYK) Lanny Spires inhabited every one of his many roles to the point of disappearing completely. Jonathan Monk was the only person I could ever imagine playing Seymour. He was so pitiful and hopeful and … accommodating. Brittany Michelle Hammock was a most marvelous Audrey; her vocal quality matches her every mood and move. Hunter Boyle never disappoints. He always puts everything he has into every role he plays, and his Mushnik is no different. He is simply magical. Stann Gwynn is loathsome and despicable and delightful as the sadistic dentist, Orin. I have no idea how he managed to sing “Now (It’s Just the Gas)” while wearing a gas mask, choking, and dying without ever missing a note. He belongs in the same magical category as Hunter.

And then there’s Audrey II.  This ain’t no puppet, boys and girls. This is bawdy, bodacious, beautiful Terrance Henderson in all his glory. His voice, his moves, his costumes…. His Audrey II is a botanical Mae West. He is a gift.

This was the first time I’d ever seen Little Shop of Horrors. (I’m skeeved out by puppets.) I’m so glad I saw this one. I’m going back. Everyone should see this show. It’s a perfect storm of theatrical talent, with some of Columbia’s and the Southeast’s finest appearing on and behind the stage. Don’t miss it.

 

REVIEW: Chad Henderson's HUNDRED DAYS at Workshop Theatre

This is a show for those who love live music. Even if you don’t typically like musicals this is a show for you. Honestly if you have ears and a heart this is the show for you. I’m only partially kidding, but I have a hard time imagining anyone not enjoying themselves. Hundred Days feels like a concert, but better, and tells the real-life love story of Abigail and Shaun Bengson through songs they wrote as a family band. I won’t go into details, but their love story, like most, is not easy. This musical memoir illustrates well what happens when past trauma and anxiety go head-to-head with true love. 

Director Chad Henderson consistently delivers great theatrical productions to Columbia, and this was no exception. He has pulled together an excellent cast of local musician-actors, and it was obvious he had been thinking about producing this show for years. Well-known local actress and musician, Katie Leitner, was the perfect choice for lead, Abigail Bengson, and probably one of the few actors in Columbia with the vocal chops to play her. Katie along with the band elevate Abigail’s songs and put a polish on them that make them sound more modern than the original cast recordings. Her incredible voice and magnetism on stage draws you in so much so that this could have easily become the Leitner show. Thankfully, Henderson balanced the show well and cast co-star, Taylor Diveley, to play Shaun Bengson. Diveley held his own next to Leitner with equally exceptional vocal ability and a number of endearing qualities.  

Making up the rest of the family band we have singer and cellist Catherine Hunsinger, front-woman for local band Rex Darling, and multidisciplinary director and performer, Bakari Lebby, on bass. Both have speaking roles throughout the show, providing levity where needed, and sing harmony on the majority of songs. At times, the harmonies in these songs were overwhelmingly good – chill inducing and magical. USC professor, musician and musical director for the show, Tom Beard, sings, speaks, and plays accordion as well as synthesizer throughout the show. Drummer and vocalist, Patty Boggs, rounds out the band with near perfect dynamics. Both are stellar musicians and great in their roles.  

Musically the songs in this production run the gamut from Indie folk to electronica with several more traditional musical numbers sprinkled in. Be warned you will leave with songs from the show stuck in your head.  

The hour and a half performance kept the audience’s attention the whole time, and in the age of TikTok with our ever-shortening attention spans this is an impressive feat. Patrick Faulds the lighting and set designer did an impressive job of making the stage feel like a music venue, while also keeping it interesting. There were constantly little things I noticed on stage throughout the show, and like any good modern concert, video was a big part of the performance. Screens on the stage complemented each song and reinforced major themes throughout the show.  

100 Days runs through May 27th and is definitely worth the ticket price and your time. It is moving, fresh, and thoroughly entertaining. Learn more about the show at Workshop Theatre’s website.

REVIEW: Fairview at Trustus Theatre

So as not to “bury the lede,” this show must be seen. By everyone. More than once.

I went into Trustus Theatre’s production of Fairview with no expectations. I knew nothing about the script, except that it had a brilliant cast and director. What I got in return was one of the best productions and some of the best performances I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

Fairview has multiple definitions here. You can’t pick just one.

The play opens in the dining room of an upper-middle class family. Beverly, played by Marilyn Matheus, is preparing a dinner party to celebrate her mother’s 80th birthday. The rest of the family trickles in, some to help, some to hinder. Dayton, Beverly’s husband, Beverly’s sister, Jasmine, and Beverly & Dayton’s daughter, Keisha. It’s a pleasant, unassuming scene. (I was reminded of the Huxtable family). This is the easiest act to discuss.

Beverly is obsessed with the perfection of this dinner. More than once (or twice or thrice) she mentions she wants the evening to go well. The relationship between Beverly and her husband, Dayton, is charming. Dayton is sweet, flirty, supportive, and playful. Their affection for each other is evident, though there are numerous opportunities for Dayton to fail (intentionally and unintentionally) at some of Beverly’s requests for assistance. Jasmine, Beverly’s sister, joins the party. If Beverly is the “responsible” sister (and she absolutely is), then Jasmine is the “fun” sister. (She’d rather not admit it, but Jasmine is a bit envious of Beverly). The energy, the banter, the spirit of these three characters is infectious. Keisha, Beverly, and Dayton’s daughter, appears and that energy goes through the roof. A high school senior with a bright future ahead of her, but she’s less than excited at the prospect. The path laid out for her is not necessarily the path she would choose. So far, so…. Comfy and cozy.

Scene change. Except that the scene is exactly as the opening, sort of. This time, however, the cast members go through the identical motions but are pantomiming the scene. Their voices are not heard. Instead, the onstage scene is overlaid by the voices of individuals giving  commentary about race and how those very white voices perceive it. The repeated question in this commentary is “if you could choose to be a different race, what race would you be?”  The answers are cringe-inducing. Every stereotype/assumption/contradiction you’ve ever imagined is tossed about. I was embarrassed by the fact that comments such as those were being spoken aloud. The effect was one of watching a television show or movie and having people around you speak over the action.

Scene change. In which the disembodied white voices of the previous scene appear as caricatures of Black individuals, specifically Mama (Grandmother) and Tyrone, Beverly’s brother. The dinner party grows increasingly surreal, even absurdist. The pace, the energy, gets faster and faster and culminates in a bizarre food fight.

Keisha, watching in amazement/horror from the sidelines, stops the madness. And I can’t really tell you anything else or it spoils the ending. Suffice to say the watcher becomes the watched.

Exhausting. Provocative. Uncomfortable. This Pulitzer Prize winning piece takes a hard look at racism, family, privilege, and racial perspective.

Terrance Henderson’s direction is ferocious, and his casting impeccable. There wasn’t a weak link anywhere. Marilyn Matheus (Beverly) brings strength and insight to every role she plays. Deon Turner (Dayton) continues to grow from strength to strength in every show in which he’s cast. Katrina Garvin plays Jasmine to tipsy, smart-mouthed perfection. Rayana Briggs’ energy and intensity, from her entrance to show’s end, is electric. Ilene Fins, Brandon Martin, Katie Mixon, and G. Scott Wild all bring strong thought-provoking performances to the story.

Fairview runs May 4 through 7 and May 11 – 13. The May 7 show is a 2:00 p.m. matinee, other performances begin at 8:00 p.m. Talkback sessions will take place after the May 7 and May 11 performances. A grant from the NEA  has been used for training sessions and support for the cast and crew.

 

Housekeeping:  The show runs nearly 2 hours without intermission. I promise it won’t feel like it.

Libby Campbell

Jasper Magazine Theatre Editor

 

REVIEW: A Chorus Line at Workshop Theatre

"I’d be proud to be one of them. They’re wonderful. They’re all special. I’d be happy to be dancing in that line.” — Cassie, A Chorus Line

The 1975 musical A Chorus Line has been a beloved musical since it opened on Broadway nearly 40 years ago, and last week, it opened at Workshop Theatre. Directed by Hans Boeschen, the musical brings together over 20 local actors as it delivers the familiar plot: a tense fight for individuality veiled behind humor, sweat, and tights. 

These personalities are stepped into well, for the most part, by the cast. The humor is certainly the part best received. Craig Allen and Adai’shun Cook, as Bobby and Richie respectively, are fabulous at using body language to command the stage and complement the jokes in their dialogue. Gracen Cabiness, who plays Kristine, is fantastic at facial humor, pulling out many a laugh from the audience in her rendition of “Sing.”

When it comes to embodying the almost character actor element of this play, the cast shines, but they do struggle at times in the nuance of the performances. Shelia and Val, for example—portrayed by Reign Capers and Tajiana Nechelle—are great in stepping into the shoes of confident vixens who know what they want and aren’t afraid to take it. However, when there are moments for these women to be vulnerable and for doubt to creep in, the performances don’t seem fully taken advantage of.  

Though at its heart A Chorus Line is a musical about potentially losing ourselves in our journey to be seen, it’s a show outwardly focused on singing and dancing—two things this production did decently but not exceedingly well. 

This cast only includes a few professional dancers, and choreographer Erin Bailey certainly did a fair job creating dance moves where every person could produce the moves and still look identical. Sometimes, however, the moves were a bit awkward, even in solo scenes that felt like a time to show off. For example, Cassie’s solo is meant to highlight her acting and dancing chops—and Katherine Brown, who portrays her, has a professional background in dancing—so it would have been nice to see some more striking, powerful movement. 

That being said, Katherine Brown was a standout in the show. Cassie demands an aesthetic and energy that is set apart from the other dancers, and Brown brings this to the role. The speech in which she reveals why she has returned to the chorus line felt genuine, and her vocal performance, though not transcendent, was one of my favorites—along with Gaby Walker’s solos as Diana.  

All-in-all, there were pockets of highlights in the show where someone’s voice hit just the right pitch and tone or there was a dance move that caused you to hold your breath, like Katie Page’s brief tap dance routine as Mikah during “I Can Do That.” However, looking the show as a whole, there were several hiccups with the song and dance that was exacerbated by issues with sound. The mics produced feedback at several times during the performance, and the music was a bit too loud and partially muffled the actors’ singing/talking. The visuals, though, worked well, with the traditional mirrored dance room backdrop and scattered gym bags defining the space (set by Patrick Faulds).  

Further, the costume design, led by Andie Nicks, was deft, showcasing pieces that well reflected the individual character’s personas while also looking like what one simply would naturally wear to practice dance, which made the performance as a whole feel modern and real from the start—and which gave the final change into matching uniforms the punch the closing scene requires. 

The one thing this performance certainly has going for it is heart. It was funny, and it was passionate. Being there as a patron was a joy, simply to exist in the audience where fellow audience members laughed out loud and ended the performance with loud claps and screams of joy and support. They made it clear Workshop is doing something right. 

Overall, if you want to support the arts and local talent, it’s worth the drive to Cottingham Theatre at Columbia College to see it. Even though it is not a flawless production, it is passionate and real and showcases a group of people whose individuality deserves to be recognized.

REVIEW: The Light at USC Lab Theatre

Trigger Warning: sexual assault is a primary subject in this piece.

Spoilers ahead

You should see this show.

Loy A. Web’s script is a bit heavy-handed at times but the subject(s) and the conversations they can prompt override that. It’s filled with quick turns and twists and surprises. 

The show opens in an ordinary apartment. Rashad is rehearsing how he will propose to his girlfriend, Genesis. Asaru Buffalo plays the role of Rashad, and he is perfectly charming. This opening scene is lovely and joyful and playful, and I loved it. Genesis, played by Shakori Jennings-Shuler, enters her apartment, and is not in the same good spirits as Rashad. Genesis is a school principal and has discovered that one of her new teachers, someone she admires and respects, feels that Brett Cavanaugh is being judged unfairly. Genesis is disappointed and surprised at her new colleague’s stance and wonders whether how she can reconcile herself to their obvious political differences. (I daresay that at some point in the last 9 years we all have found ourselves in a similar situation.) 

Rashad tried to lift her spirits and his ploy begins to work. Genesis then accuses him of not knowing “today’s” significance. It’s revealed that it’s their anniversary. He has, of course, completely forgotten this. The engagement ring steps in as an anniversary gift. The proposal is gleefully and tearfully accepted. Joy ensues. He has planned to recreate their first date and has obtained at great cost tickets to a concert by her favorite artist. How happy can two people be?

Hold my beer. 

The headliner and producer of this concert is the fictional rapper Kashif. Kashif has been a source of conflict between Rashad & Genesis before. Genesis condemns Kashif for his misogyny. Rashad supports Kashif for the good he does for the community. Genesis initially tells Rashad Kashif raped a friend of hers in college. She admits her friend did not report the rape. Rashad has been falsely accused of domestic assault; he had been a football player with a bright future. These dreams evaporated with the false accusation. He is also the custodial parent of his daughter.  

Rashad implores Genesis to understand his existence as a Black man who is never afforded the benefit of the doubt. Genesis implores Rashad to understand her position as a black woman in an unending struggle to be seen and valued as being black and as a woman.  

Spoiler alert: Genesis reveals it was not a friend who was raped, but herself.  The opening scene set the stakes really high. I won’t tell you how it ends. 

It was nice to see two young actors honing their craft. There were no bios in the program, so I have no idea about the work the actors have done previously. Ms. Jennings-Shuler needs to watch her volume and energy. There were times I lost what she was saying because she spoke so softly. Her final soliloquy was powerful, and she delivered it with anger and frustration. Mr. Buffalo needed to kick up the volume a bit; he may have been suffering from a cold or allergies. His focus on Ms. Jennings-Shuler’s monologue never faltered. He remained focused on her the entire time. 

The set was completely serviceable. It would be nice to have a coat rack or a hook on the back of a door for Rashad to hang his jacket. Otherwise, there was nothing to really detract from the performances. 

I saw the Thursday performance with friends who are also actors. It was a diverse group; one Black man, two Black women, and one white woman. We went out afterwards and talked and argued and discussed the show for over two hours. The disrespect and devaluation of Black men and women, the irreparable damage of false accusations, the very personal perceptions of what constitutes “rape”… it was enlightening on many levels. That’s what good theatre does - it opens the door to conversation and debate, which is how we all move forward. Unfortunately you have only two more chances to see this show. Take one of those opportunities. You won’t be disappointed.                               

REVIEW: The Mad Ones at Trustus Theatre

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'"

Jack Kerouac from his autobiographical novel On The Road

Not enough has been written about platonic girl love, especially for adults. But the reality is that platonic girl love—its power and gravity and the way it can encompass a person like a cocoon—has saved many a young woman’s life, both figuratively and literally. The musical The Mad Ones by Bree Loudermilk and Kait Kerrigan (2017), on the Trustus stage through March 18, gives this beautiful and complicated phenomenon the reverence it is due.

With a tiny cast of four Trustus stage virgins, including two current USC students, Lily Smith and Charlie Grant, The Mad Ones is the story of Samantha and Kelly, played by Smith and Elise Heffner, BFFs who are separated by an accidental death. Samantha must rely on her memories of the all-important platonic girl love relationship she had with Kelly to get her through her grief and on the road to adulthood and making the next life decisions.

The working metaphor throughout the musical is that Samantha is obsessed with Jack Kerouac’s autobiographical novel, On the Road, but despite her intelligence (Sam is valedictorian of their senior class), she repeatedly fails her driving test keeping her, in essence, off the road. The brilliance of this simple metaphor plays out beautifully in the construction of the play.

Lead characters Smith and Heffner are just so much, too.

Adorable, approachable, relatable, insightful, lovable young women, Smith is a cross between Mayim Bialik and Tina Fey and Heffner is that combination of cute and fun that leaves no wonder Smith’s character Samantha adores her so. Smith plays Sam as vulnerable, but capable of getting through this period of grief with the help of the three people who she knows has her back no matter what: her boyfriend Adam, played by Grant, her mom Beverly, played by Jessica Roth, and the memories of her dead friend, Kelly. And in no way is the character of Beverly to be overlooked. Her character is refreshingly written as a bright, caring, and self-fulfilled mother who wants nothing less for her own daughter. While many writers would have fallen into the old tarpit of depicting her as a pushy parent, Loudermilk and Kerrigan seem to recognize what is at stake here and present Beverly as assertive, yes, but justifiably so. Beverly behaves in ways that every mother should aspire to.  

To say the cast has vocal chops is an understatement. From Grant’s smooth dulcet crooning to Roth’s rich and powerful voice, the four vocalists take on the score bravely leaving nothing on the stage. The slight pitchiness and rare missed note were so real and genuinely offered that they almost felt scripted, as in, everyone misses a note now and then so of course these authentically imperfect characters will, as well. These young actors, as well as Roth, DO NOT HOLD BACK.

Clearly this kind of bravery in such young actors had to originate in the experienced pedigrees of their directors, Robin Gottlieb and Katie Leitner. In her playbill note, Heffner gives special thanks to Leitner as “the best teacher she ever had.” No doubt. Leitner is also the powerhouse musician and vocalist in the popular local band, Say Femme and between the two women, they have performed enough lead roles to intimidate these four initiates into paralysis. But it is evident how the directors empowered their cast with courage and the message of the script.

There were no weak links in this production. Kudos to Ginny Ives (stage manager), Ezra Pound (sound), Lorna Young (lighting), Liza Hunter (assistant stage manager), and Jim Hunter (scenic designer) for pulling off all the pieces of the behind-the-scenes puzzle that allow for a successful production. Also outstanding was music director Chris Cockrell and his band, and special thanks to the strings player whose melancholy tones were enough to elicit tears alone.

Yes, expect to respond to The Mad Ones with anything from misty eyes to ugly sobbing. But the tears you’ll shed are of the redeeming variety—the kind that wash away the pain and remind us that we grow from every obstacle we overcome.

Go see this beautiful musical and celebrate the talents of these young actors and the futures they have in store.

 

REVIEW: Torch Song at Workshop Theatre

Torch Song began its evolution as three one-act plays, the first of which, International Stud,  opened off-off-Broadway way back in 1978. It was followed by Fugue in a Nursery the next year and finished with Widows and Children First. The three were combined into Torch Song Trilogy which made its Broadway debut in 1982. Harvey Fierstein’s groundbreaking piece took home the Tony for Best Play in 1983.  In his acceptance speech, Producer John Glines openly acknowledged his lover and the show’s co-producer, Lawrence Lane. This, kiddoes, had never been done before.  

Join me and Mr. Peabody in the Wayback Machine. (IYKYK)  It’s the late 70’s and early 80’s. AIDS has just started to ravage the gay community, aided and abetted by the nonchalance of the straight community. (Thanks, Ron & Nancy. I digress.) We’re just over a decade past Stonewall. In this environment Harvey Fierstein spins the (largely autobiographical) story of one Arnold Beckoff. He addresses issues such as gay marriage and adoption, which were unheard of 40 years ago.  Look how far we’ve come…(hold that thought) 

In Workshop Theatre’s production, Arnold is played lovingly and endearingly by Julian Deleon.  The show opens with Arnold in his dressing room at International Stud, transforming himself into Virginia Ham. (Pay attention to the list of drag names with which he peppers his opening monologue. You. Will. Love.)  Deleon’s delivery of this exercise in self-analysis is fast and furious and funny, and absolutely spot-on. It would be so easy to turn Arnold into a caricature. This piece was, after all, written by and originally starring Harvie Fierstein. DeLeon never steps over that line.  His Arnold is maddening, infuriatingly needy, manic, frustrating, and utterly and completely loveable and heartbreaking.  

Arnold meets one Ed Reiss up in da clurb. Ed is a charming fellow, a school teacher who must be circumspect in all things, as we are not yet a “woke” world. Arnold falls head over heels in love with Ed, because of course he would. Because a Torch Song by definition cannot have a happy ending.  

Ed is set up on a blind date with the lovely and hapless Laurel and falls head over heels into the easy out, which is to marry the straight girl of his parents’ dreams. Ed and Arnold remain “friends.” At Laurel’s invitation, Arnold visits the lovebirds at their farm in upstate New York and brings along his new love, Alan. Interesting conversations ensue.  

Enter Mother. Dear, strict, conventional, conservative Jewish Mother. Hurtful, passive-aggressive, put upon Mother. Debra Haines Kiser plays this role with such conviction and passion. When she makes one jab too many and Arnold can take no more…. I thought I’d accidentally wandered into George and Martha’s study. Kiser and Deleon work beautifully off each other. Their scenes snap, one line on top of another, until we are all exhausted.   

Crouch has assembled a good, solid cast. Brady Davis plays David, Arnold’s soon-to-be-adopted son. His David is such a 15-year-old gay boy – sassy, bitchy, rebellious, outspoken, and very loving. (Can we do something about poor David’s suit? He’s about to be adopted by a drag queen with mad sewing skills. Arnold would not have allowed him to leave the house in a suit two sizes too big.)   

I wish Marshall Spann’s Ed had been more… energetic? Ed is supposedly so charming that both gay men and straight women cannot resist him. I wanted to see more of that charm.  

Beth DeHart’s Laurel is enigmatic. She vows to have fallen in love with Ed and has come to terms with his bisexuality, but has she?  Arnold and Alan visit the farm on her invitation, not Ed’s. To what purpose? Is she proving herself to herself? Is she testing Ed’s dedication to being straight? Is she deliberately taunting Arnold? There is no incorrect answer.  

Taylor Diveley creates a perfectly adorable Alan with whom Arnold cannot help but fall in love.  He’s a smart, gorgeous cocker spaniel puppy. You want them to be together forever and ever and ever. (This is a Torch Song) 

Set, costumes, and music come together nicely.  (Please make a mix-tape of the show’s music and sell it in the lobby). I tried to figure out a way to sneak the kitchen table and chairs out of Arnold’s Act 3 apartment but wasn’t able to make it work.  

I shall now pick a nit. Please. Please. Please. When food and drink are mentioned in a script, have food and drink onstage.  It isn’t that difficult to whip up a pot of instant mashed potatoes to put on plates and have water/tea/coffee in a pitcher or kettle to pour into cups. After all  the tremendous care and effort put into a production, it’s annoying to see actors trying to block the fact that they are serving imaginary food.  

Fierstein has written, and Jerry Crouch has lovingly directed a show about what we all ultimately want - to be loved and respected for who we are.   

Torch Song runs through January 29.

 

           

REVIEW: Mr. Burns - A Post Electric Play

Mr. Burns, A Post-Electric Play, running at Trustus Theatre, is, to put it mildly, a challenging production. Ann Washburn’s three act 2012 dark comedy (with a score by Michael Friedman) follows a group of individuals who have just experienced an unspecified cataclysmic event (although all signs point to a meltdown of multiple nuclear power plants) which has destroyed life as they know it. Like humans throughout time, the near-strangers strive for some sense of normalcy by sharing stories. In this case, they frenetically try to reconstruct an episode of the long-running animated series, The Simpsons. The group has settled on “Cape Feare,” an episode where Bart Simpson (that spirited little scamp) is stalked by Sideshow Bob, an ex-convict who has a long-standing hatred of Bart. Based in part on the two versions of the “Cape Fear” movies, the episode follows the Simpsons as they try to escape Sideshow Bob by moving from their home to a houseboat, to no avail. Sideshow Bob appears with murderous intent, and Bart distracts him by asking for an entire production of “HMS Pinafore,” to which Sideshow Bob gladly assents.

But back to Mr. Burns: A stranger appears in the dark; guns are drawn. Suddenly, the camaraderie is broken. But the stranger proves he, too, has some sense of the Simpsons episode, and the process begins again and is enriched.

Act II finds the same group of individuals seven years later, bonded together as a theatre company, roaming the land with its version of the “Cape Feare” episode, complete with commercials. And it turns out other theatre troupes exist, and they compete for audiences of survivors by “buying” material to produce better shows. It seems cockroaches and capitalism both survive nuclear holocaust.

Act III occurs 75 years later and operates as a standalone production of what the original story has become. A Greek pageant complete with stylized masks and costumes, many details of the original “Cape Feare” episode have evolved and changed, and the production tells a story of the dichotomy between good and evil.

In the Trustus production, the ensemble cast works well together. Particular kudos go to Patrick Kelly, whose dizzily horrifying performance in Act III is breathtaking. Allison Allgood is equally strong in Act III, balancing Kelly’s necessarily oversized performance with seeming ease.

Both the simple and inventive set by Danny Harrington, and the light design by Marc Hurst enhance the dystopian script. While the staging is a bit static in Act I, it completely evolves by Act III.

As noted, this is not an easy production to take in. It is dark and dystopian in its comedy, and that may not be for you. But true to Trustus’ history and mission, it is a show that won’t leave you right away. You will likely mull it over on the way home. You will probably think about it the next day. And that’s a good thing.

Mr. Burns, A Post-Electric Play, runs at Trustus from January 20 through February 4, 2023.

A Message from Cindi: 37 Issues of Jasper Later and Thanks for Everything

Thank You!

This is the image that popped up in my Facebook memories this morning.

It’s a bundle shot of our second issue of Jasper Magazine released this week in 2011. The cover art is by Thomas Crouch and was designed by Heyward Sims, our art director when we started Jasper Magazine. A small magazine, it featured a piece on Crouch, one on Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School—Ashleigh Rivers was the president of the Columbia chapter, our centerfold was Chris Bickel, articles on Dre Lopez, Caroline Lewis Jones, Bobby Craft, Lee Ann Kornegay, and a story about the 2011 Biennial written by Jeffrey Day. Mayor Steve Benjamin wrote a guest editorial at the back of the book in which he praised the opening of the new Tapp’s Arts Center on Main Street. His editorial was accompanied by an assemblage of the mayor created by Kirkland Smith.

Sigh.

Time goes by so fast.

When this mag came out I had just turned 53 and was realizing that my 50s might very well be the best decade of my life. It was. And for that I am grateful. I’m even more thankful that, 11 years later, someone stills needs me and feeds me now that I’m 64. And I’m particularly thankful for the artists, staff, board, readers, and supporters who made this most recent issue of Jasper—released on Friday night with a lovely little soiree at Kristian Niemi’s Bourbon Courtyard—possible.

This is a photo of artist Wilma Ruth King by Brad Martin holding the image our art director Brian Harmon made into the cover of the magazine we just released.

This is a big fat magazine full of stories about Columbia-based artists and the films they’ve made—Thaddeus and Tanya Wideman-Davis, Monifa Lemons, Dustin Whitehead and his USC crew, Arischa Connor and her list of TV credits, a big piece on jazz by Kevin Oliver, a centerfold story written by Will South about neighbor artist from Conway, Jim Arendt, and another by South on the Elizabeth Catlett exhibition at the CMA. There’s poetry by Monifa and Jonathan Butler, a review of Carla Damron’s new book by Eric Morris, smaller pieces on exciting people and innovative projects—like Amy Brower, Jamie Blackburn, Seitu Amenwahsu, Steven Chapp and Jerred Metz, and Libby Campbell, record reviews of Jump Little Children and Todd Mathis and really, too many subjects to mention here.

I am thankful for this issue of Jasper Magazine and all it represents. An evolving and maturing art community full of grown-ass people who are living the lives they always imagined they’d live, or better. Some of them are stars. Some of them go on brief rides on starlight. And some enjoy basking in the combined and accumulated glow they and their colleagues in the community emit when they make their art and see it received by their fellow humans.

All of this is good.

I’m also thankful for all of you who came out this week to help Jasper celebrate by joining us at Vista Lights.

Jasper Project Board President Wade Sellers at Vista Lights Columbia may, in fact, be Santa.

I’m thankful for all of you who joined us Friday night at Bourbon to welcome this new issue of Jasper to the world.

This is me with Kimber Carpenter and her mom Pat Gillam - both artists - at the Fall 2022 magazine release reception on Friday, November 18th.

I’m thankful for our sponsors, who so generously continue to support Jasper because they recognize it as a gift of art given to the community—not necessarily as just a method media to get the word out about what they alone have to offer. We had 16 sponsors back when issue #2 came out. This issue, we have only 6 — the Palmetto Opera, who have an upcoming concert of Madame Butterfly on January 29th; Harbison Theater who will welcome Tom Papa on January 20th along with a show of Michael Krajewski’s work and who are currently showing an exhibition of David Yaghjian’s work, both sponsored by the Jasper Project Galleries; Trustus Theatre, which opens Hurricane Diane on December 2nd and Mr. Burns, A Post Electric Play on January 20th; CMFA who hosted the Jasper Project’s Play Right Series performance in August; arts activist Eric Tucker’s KW Palmetto Realty, and our truly beloved Columbia Museum of Art who has advertised with us and sponsored us since the very beginning.

I’m thankful for our Jasper Guild Members who, with incredible generosity, trust the Jasper Project with their funding to create a magazine, a literary journal, a film festival, and more, knowing that every penny they give goes right back out to the artists, with no one on our end being paid for their volunteer talent and energy.

Thank YOU for indulging me in this lengthy message, and for reading Jasper Magazine and supporting the many facets of The Jasper Project. From all of our houses, to all of yours —

Happy Thanksgiving,

Cindi

~~~

Coming Up from Jasper

December 1st - First Thursday at Sound Bites Eatery with Lindsay Radford Wiggins - 6 pm

December 11th - Reception for David Yaghjian at Harbison Theater - 2:30 pm

December 15th - Santa Crawl with Jasper at the Art Bar - 7 pm

CALL for PLAYS - Play Right Series - deadline December 31st, 2022

The Beat with Kevin Oliver: Review of Automata - Single Sparrow

Single Sparrow

Automata

Self-released

 

Single Sparrow is the band moniker of Charleston, SC musician Patrick Leitner, and this new album is truly a one-man project–he plays every note, wrote every song, recorded, mixed, and mastered the final product himself. You’d never know it from listening, however, as the playing is seamless, and the production is spotlessly clean. 

Despite the forced sterility of its creation in a kind of artistic bubble, this is not a soulless, automated performance. Leitner has one of those world-weary vocal styles, resigned but still possessing an intensity that belies the non-demonstrative singing. It’s most effective on the pastoral rock of “Peaks and Valleys,” for example, where a loping beat echoes Neil Young as Leitner sings: 

 

“Take me to the Atlantic Ocean, let me feel the waves

Running over sandy shores that weren’t here yesterday

If I try to hold on tight it still washes away

And time is running out on me in much the same way” 

 

The sense of loss is palpable in the song’s metaphor for change, something that the narrator sounds at peace with, if not in agreement to it happening. 

There are stories here from Leitner’s own life–”Tiny Metronome” is a reference to his daughter. He draws from history and culture as well, with “Centralia” taken from a coal mining town in Pennsylvania and “Happy Accidents,” pulled from the story of famous still life painter Bob Ross. It’s the songs that invite more universal interpretations, however, that pull one inside this digital audio world. 

The emotional depth of Leitner’s writing rewards repeat listens, and this album will sink into your consciousness in all the best ways, with lines standing out at different moments. This week it might be the distillation of “impostor syndrome” unworthiness into the words of “A Reflection of the Moon,” as he sings over a jittery percussive track and a single acoustic guitar, “I am a ballad out of tune, a perfect harmony too soon, or the reflection of the moon; a copy of something true.” Next week, it will shift to “Nothing On the News Tonight” and its examination of relationships in a dystopian world; “The apocalypse is over now, just listening still to the static; something in the way you hold my hand that slows down time …”  

Whatever part of Automata connects with an individual listener, the original concept of AI that can think like humans may have been achieved here by Leitner, accidentally or not. The solitary man in a studio created something that connects almost instantly with other humans, through the miracle of digital tech. 

The Beat with Kevin Oliver: Candy Coffins - Once Do It With Feeling

Candy Coffins

Once Do It With Feeling

Self-released

 

The decades of experience represented by the veteran members of Candy Coffins comes through in the music on this new full-length album, which hearkens back to “Disintegration”-era Cure, the less abrasive years of the Psychedelic Furs, and lots of David Bowie. The gothic rock edge doesn’t necessarily render the songs dated; there are enough modern touches throughout to peg this as a contemporary work that just pulls from a very specific artistic palette.  

The focus here should really be on the songwriting of singer and guitarist Jame Lathren, however. The liner notes state that the album “Chronicles a relationship from the onset of the first crack to its complete crumbling dissolution,” and there is definitely an emotional arc from beginning to end. 

Midway through, “Tangled Up in Teacups” includes a female voice leaving messages such as “My god, you are the most selfish person I have ever met. If you’re going to be this kind of disaster have fun doing it by yourself…” as bassist Alex Mabrey drives the unsettling melody underneath. 

Lathren shifts back to the male perspective on “French Exit,” singing “I’m not sorry you won’t know what happened, I’m heading out the door…” in a tortured tenor that wails, then drops to a hushed whisper as he sings, “I’m all alone, but it’s better than being with you…” and the band crashes back into a searing musical coda worthy of a Neil Young opus.  

It’s the music that keeps this from being just another self-absorbed breakup album; there are guitar solos here that say much more than any words could, such as the stinging leads on “A Victory Like This.” When the instruments on that song drop completely out at the end, it’s like you just got dropped off an emotional cliff. 

Lathren may lean too far into the goth-rock nostalgia at times, but he does so in service of a set of songs that capture both the euphoria and the angst that exists in volatile relationships.

 

REVIEW: The Rocky Horror Show at Trustus Theatre Really Does Have Something for Everyone

 

What better way to kick off October and Trustus Theatre’s 38th season, “(Un) Familiar,” than with a familiar classic that explores what once were (and sadly for some might still be) very unfamiliar topics?

Cult classic The Rocky Horror Show at Trustus Theatre was, as expected, a great time had by all, and yet very different from the show longtime fans might have come to expect. A sold out showing on Friday, October 7th, the crowd was a mix of veteran fans ready to participate and soon to be new fans squirting each other with tiny water guns. Many viewers were decked out, ready to sing and dance along to the classics they know and love. Director, choreographer, and international award-winning performing artist, Terrance Henderson, has brought refreshing life and transformation to the Rocky Horror legacy.  

With this show, Henderson succeeds at making space for everyone. In his note to the  audience, Trustus veteran Henderson says he looked at the cult classic from his “unapologetically Black and Queer perspective honoring some of [his] own cultural languages and traditions.” Taking inspiration from “Black feminine and gender fluid beings, Black queer, Black trans, Black intersectional and FREE people” Henderson overtly celebrates duality, a classic attribute that is very much at the heart of the show. This blatant duality, arguably the point and purpose of the show, has been criticized for perpetrating harmful stereotypes while also mocking them, both hurting and celebrating the LGBTQ community. But Jasper was not moved toward criticism. In fact, we found that Henderson’s approach, and the alterations he made to the show, felt like a  better, more imaginative Rocky Horror and, most importantly, more inclusive.  

The casting choices for the show were excellent and reflected Henderson’s vision well, with almost every major character in the show being Actors of Color. The vocal talent of the cast members was beyond impressive and well matched by the live band in the theatre’s loft space lead by music director Chris Cockrell.  

Katrina Garvin (Magenta, Usherette), a member of the Trustus Company, mesmerized the audience singing the opening number “Science Fiction Double Feature.” Fellow company member, Samuel McWhite (Riff Raff), induced chills as he descended the staircase singing his solo in “Over at the Frankenstein Place.” It was hard to believe Mel Driggers (Columbia), was new to performing at Trustus, clearly belonging on that stage, and holding their own. Veteran of the role, Walter Graham’s incredible costume changes and perfectly over the top portrayal of Frank N’ Furter received roaring applause and gasps throughout the night while company members Michael Hazin and Katie Leitner kept the audience laughing as Brad and Janet.

 We won’t spoil any other surprises for you, but we can guarantee you will have a great time! 

The Rocky Horror Show will be performed at Trustus Theatre through October 29th.

REVIEW: Kinky Boots at Workshop Theatre

Originally a smash Broadway hit, Kinky Boots is a musical about two people finding common ground in an unusual way: through shoes. With the book by Harvey Fierstein, Kinky Boots is the story of two seemingly different individuals who discover that they have more similarities than differences. Charlie Price (Taylor Diveley) inherits the family’s shoe factory just as he is attempting to start his life elsewhere. Unfortunately, the factory is bankrupt and may close. A chance encounter with Lola (Lamont Gleaton), a drag queen and cabaret performer, leads to an unconventional solution to save the business.

Jocelyn Sanders has done an admirable job of pulling together a talented cast of performers for a fun evening of theatre. As the leads, Diveley and Gleaton balance each other nicely and then shine beautifully during solo numbers. Gleaton dazzles as the outwardly confident Lola, taking the stage by storm with a larger-than-life persona and performance. At other times, Gleaton easily reaches the introspection necessary to convey the depth of Lola’s sometimes painful journey to true self-understanding. Diveley takes some of the same opportunities, as he energetically leads his factory workers to believe in the dream of success and then anguishes over his own shortcomings.

The supporting characters and cast play beautifully in the background of Charlie and Lola’s story without pulling focus away from those characters’ journey. Evident in their body language, the factory workers are initially tired and demoralized, anxious about what is around the corner. After Lola enters the scene, the factory comes alive with energy. Jessica Roth (Lauren) presents a nicely nuanced performance, a tad daffy when required and thoughtful and kind in other important moments.

Lola’s Angels do exactly what they’re supposed to do. They bring fun and energy to the stage through their marvelous dancing and sassy personalities. Mandy Applegate’s overall choreography is fun and sexy and gives all performers a chance to shine.

The live band is terrific, led by Chrystine McClellan, who is also the Music Director. McClellan has taken a group of varied performers and created not only a lovely ensemble performance but also has led individual performers to shine where their talents lie. The only sound drawback is that at times, it is difficult to hear certain dialogue and portions of songs.

When you first arrive, you find yourself looking at the exterior of Price and Son, the factory which Charlie inherits. During the opening number, the building opens to reveal an aging industrial space in which most of the action takes place. Both the set and light design are by Patrick Faulds, and both beautifully deliver an important underlying aspect of the show. The lighting seamlessly moves with the performers, capturing them as they move to different levels and areas of the stage, which is a credit to the design and designer. As the locations change, Faulds has designed clever movable set pieces, practically moved by cast members in character, adding to the overall success of the design.

The costumes, designed by Andie Nicks, also play a nice supporting role, and then step to the front to take a bow when appropriate. Nicks has chosen a basic monochromatic theme for most of the clothing of the factory workers, leaving it to Lola and the Angels to dazzle the eyes. The varied costumes sported by the Angels bring real life to their personalities, and Lola’s outfits . . . . Well, let’s just say “fabulous” is insufficient.

Kinky Boots runs about two and a half hours, with one fifteen-minute intermission. It runs through October 8 at Cottingham Theatre on the campus of Columbia College.

Little Shell, Big Feelings: Review of Marcel the Shell with Shoes On

 

Marcel the Shell with Shoes On is not what you expect. I mean, if you’re expecting to see a shell named Marcel wearing shoes, then, sure, it’s what you’d expect. But if you’re expecting anything other than absolute emotional devastation that makes you experience every feeling currently recognized by humankind, you certainly do not know what to expect. 

Expanded from a series of shorts, the film has a simple conceit: a young, divorced man moves into an Airbnb where he finds a young, animate shell and his grandmother, the last two remaining members of their once vibrant community that dwelled in the home and decides to make a documentary about them. What follows is a series of hijinks as a young Marcel informs Dean of the history of his family and what it takes to survive in his everyday life as a one-inch creature in a space made for humans, including tying rope from an orange tree to the electric mixer so that a simple switch shakes loose fresh oranges from the tree (rope made from leftover hair in the tub, which is of a particular wiry and curly nature). 

Dean (played by director of the film Dean Fleischer Camp) uploads these videos to YouTube, and the meta-audience in the film falls in love with Marcel alongside us, and soon, he is an internet sensation. This is when Marcel develops the plan that will drive the movie: he will use this new fame to recruit help in locating his family, who disappeared two years ago when the boyfriend of the pair who originally lived in the home stormed out, dumping the community’s safe space, aka the sock drawer, into a suitcase—unknowingly taking Marcel’s entire family with him. 

Though whether or not Marcel is able to be reunited with his community is the climax this film hinges on, it is very much a story that emphasizes the validity of the trope “it’s about the journey.” For even though this is a film about a talking shell, it is at its heart a poignant coming of age tale that focuses on a young boy hiding from change behind his fierce independence and quirky sense of humor. 

This heart is best represented in the scene where Marcel realizes his grandmother is sicker than he initially thought, and he begins once more refusing to do his interview with CBS (where he’s going to meet the actual Leslie Stahl!). He is concerned that bringing all this noise and commotion into the home will be too much for his ailing grandmother, and he is unwilling to risk the family he is sure he has for just a chance at getting back the family he no longer has. Unwilling to fully convey all his fears, he finally tells his grandmother that he just doesn’t want things to change, to which she replies, simply and unfalteringly: “Oh, Marcel—they will.” 

There is no falsity to her statement, no making it better through sweetly coated truths, only the truth itself. Marcel is a symbol of ritual, an attendant of the everyday. He knows how to survive, but his continued cycles of daily practice serve not just as survival but as an attempt to extend the present in a deeply rooted aversion to change. Change has taken everything from Marcel, and now it can give him everything back—at a cost, and for the first time in his young life, he has to decide if he’s willing to pay. 

While I won’t spoil it for you, simply know that in the scene leading up to the reveal of whether or not Marcel will find his family, I leaned forward and gripped my movie theater chair harder than in any marketed thriller. In all seriousness, this film is a masterclass in tone, thanks to Fleischer Camp, animators Stephen Ciodo and Kirsten Lepore, and cinematographers Bianca Cline and Eric Adkins.  

But really, though the script is fantastic, and the film makes almost all the right decisions, what holds this movie together, what really makes it work, are the main characters: Marcel, who is witty and biting among all his innocence is played spiritly by Jenny Slate (who also co-wrote the script with Fleischer Camp and Nick Paley). Golden Globe nominated actress Isabella Rossellini plays the grandmother whose gentle but firm tone brings the elder shell to life and provides a firm center to the story.

 

There is an awkwardness in not knowing what these living objects are, but the film plays it off well. Neither Dean nor his audience are trying to figure out who or what Marcel is, but to simply understand his way of living. We never know if these types of creatures exist everywhere or if this place is special, and the only hint we seem to get is Marcel discussing community building at the very opening of the film. And in the final scene, it seems as if this community exists not just of shells, but additional anthropomorphized objects (like peanuts, pretzels, and Cheetos).

 

In a sense, though, it doesn’t matter. The film shows us a symbiotic relationship between what we create and who we are. Here are these beings that may or may not even exist but do very clearly exist. They reckon with the desperation to belong and to hold onto what’s ours. The idea that we, as humans, may have been what anthropomorphized them in the first place only makes the humanity of these characters—and the invented nature of the boundaries of humanity—truer.

 

The film does not allow separation. It shows us a silly shell and then puts our deepest, most difficult emotions into words and images. It is not only a reckoning with what is alive and how we define the human experience but serves as a stark reminder that even the smallest beings in the corners of the universe have an everyday, lived experience that parallels our own.

 

Oh, and sometimes, they’re pretty darn cute.

Meet Jasper Intern Kaitlyn Smith and Read her Review of a Favorite Film - Legend (1985)

Directed by: Ridley Scott

Written by: William Hjortsberg

Produced by: Arnon Milchan

Soundtrack: Tangerine Dream

Sophomore at UofSC Columbia Campus, English Major, looking forward to meeting awesome people, getting involved in Columbia’s arts community as much as possible, and learning from the amazing staff at Jasper.

Synopsis: Jack (Tom Cruise) and Lili (Mia Sara) are lovers in an epic fantasy world in which light and love are threatened by the presence of a dark lord (Tim Curry) who’s mission is to rid of the world of innocence and send it into an eternal night. The film begins with Lili, a princess who despite being born into a life of lavishness, spends most of her time with the forest-child Jack, deep in the woods that he calls his home. One day, Jack decides, against his better judgement, to show Lili the unicorns. In the meantime, Darkness has sent his minions to kill the Unicorns and steal their horns, as the Unicorns existence on Earth threatens his power. When Jack and Lili witness the Unicorns appearance, Lili is immediately awestricken and wishes to touch them. Jack begs her to leave them be, but Lili goes against his wishes and approaches the Unicorns. Darkness’ minions use this as a distraction and fire poison, striking one of the Unicorns and triggering an early winter. Jack then teams up with a group of forest-swelling elves and a fairy and sets off on an epic adventure to save the world from Darkness’ influence. 

Legend is a fantasy film about love, lost innocence, and the coexistence of good and evil, written by William Hjortsberg and directed by Ridley Scott. The film’s dark fairytale aesthetic has been compared to The Lord of the Rings. Keeping in mind the types of characters encountered (elves, goblins, and fairies), sets, and costume choices, I can see how fans of Tolkien’s trilogy would have an appreciation for Scott’s directorial approach (I would know because I am the target audience). 

Right off the bat, I find the use of costume and makeup to be one of the film’s most impressive elements. The special effects makeup, courtesy of Rob Bottin, used to create the character Darkness stands out to me. The bright red skin, giant horns, terrifying fangs, and the edition of prosthetics to change facial and ear shape, make Darkness the scariest thing to come out of Hell.  

Another thing that stood out to me was the use of costume to highlight Lili’s journey throughout the film. She’s introduced in an elegant, almost medieval, white gown with tiny flowers on the bodice and golden accents throughout. The light and modest gown, perfect hair, and use of subtle glitter on her cheeks are true to Lili’s character, representing the innocence she possesses. As the film goes on and Lili finds herself running from goblins and becoming entrapped in Darkness’ lair, her dress becomes torn up to a point of unrecognition. Obviously, this would happen to anyone running for their life in the forest and being abducted by a gang of goblins. However, I’d like to point out the way that it’s reflective of her emotional journey. That innocence she possesses at the beginning of the film was slowly vanishing after she touched the unicorn and sent the world into an Armageddon like state. Another example is the dark fantasy dress that Darkness uses to woo her into marrying him. This is the final stage of her innocence being stripped away as the gown she dons during the last half of the film is a stark contrast to her normal attire; midnight black with a plunging neckline that ends past her belly button.

The cinematography is brilliant! Every shot is cohesive to the narrative and drew me in, allowing me to feel the presence of magic in my home. I should bring up that the special effects aren’t comparable to new-age film and the evolution of CGI. 

The film’s narrative, while right up my alley, was often confusing at times. For example, in the beginning of the film Lili seems to get a glimpse of the future, however, it is never touched on. There are no other scenes that seem to foreshadow the state of the world post unicorn touching, and no implication that Lili may have a second sight. There is also a scene in which Jack encounters a goblin like creature dwelling in the waters on the way to Darkness’ lair. It was the only creature encountered on the way and was on screen for about one minute. I’d also add that some dialogue between characters seemed rushed and bland. 

If you’re into experimental 80’s synth, the score is for you! The use of shakuhachi, an ancient Japanese flute, was a popular instrument to sample in the 1980s and is used a lot throughout the score. The closing song “Loved by the Sun” was perfect to wrap up the events of the film and struck me with lyrics like “Legends can be now and forever, teaching us to love for goodness’ sake.” I have no complaints about the use of sound in the film, and only wish to praise Tangerine Dream for creating music that ties together the film’s aesthetic to a T. 

Overall, the writing and attention to narrative are the only critiques I have. Otherwise, I believe Legend to be one of the most beautiful films to come out of 1985 and I encourage everyone to give it a watch!

 

Meet Jasper Intern Meg Carroll and Read her Review of a Favorite Film - Frances Ha

“I Make Love”: A Film Review of Frances Ha

by Meg Carroll

Shot in dimensional black and white, Frances Ha is the portrait of a jilted young woman, Frances (Greta Gerwig), and her precarious adventures in New York City after her best friend and roommate, Sophie (Mickey Sumner), breaks their lease and emotionally fractures their relationship. Left to find housing in the ever-tumultuous New York housing landscape alone, Frances reveals herself as a woman who is gently brash, undyingly witty, slightly codependent, and yet, ardently loving.  

Frances is 27 and is coming to terms with her age — “You look older [than Sophie]… like, a lot older” — and the fact that life seems to have left her behind — “… but less grown up.” Her new roommate Benji (Michael Zegen), who frequently quips that Frances is “undateable” because of her penchant for quoting literature and her man walk, tells her in a casually transparent moment, “You don’t have your shit together.” Frances’ character speaks to the parts of ourselves, in us young women particularly, that feel lost, undecided, and prone to imposter syndrome:  

“What do you do?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Because what you do is complicated?”

“Uh, because I don’t really do it.”

 

But in witnessing Frances’ many career pitfalls and social blunders — “Should I text him back, ‘Starboard anal sex?’” — the compassion for her character mounts, and we discover in her messy persona an enviable expressiveness. Her awkward and sometimes childish behaviors are juxtaposed with moments of mature references that even escape those around her: “You know what Virginia Woolf book this reminds me of?” But the most alluring aspect of Frances’ character is that she is unashamed of who she is, and she continues to be herself amidst all of the funny looks. Her confidence is often unfounded, but Frances always seems to find a way to live comfortably in chaos, and in her perpetually messy apartment: “I’m not messy, I’m busy!”  

While Frances Ha is a coming-of-age story about a woman getting her life together, it is most centrally a story about a woman vying for authentic love. Frances looks for love in many places after Sophie “breaks up” with her: “I kind of have a crush on this boy, but his name is Georgie… so I don’t really know how far its gonna go.” She seems to find new platonic love, however comparatively fleeting it is, with her new roommates Benji and Lev (Adam Driver), two men who embody the stereotype of edgy New York City artist languishing on family money. But if there is anything that Frances Ha is not, it is a movie about men. The men in the movie float around the periphery as Frances grapples with her career and tries to find a place to live.

Greta Gerwig in Frances Ha

She’s also busy trying to make new friends. At a dinner party with people her same age, yet who seem far more mature than she, Frances unabashedly — or maybe drunkenly — launches into the monologue that is the climax of the film. She proclaims truly what she wants “out of a relationship… out of life really, love.” However, the emotional fulfillment of the movie doesn’t come until the very end, when we discover who Frances is meant to love all along. It’s likely that the epiphany at the end of this film will leave you questioning your own relationships and the places you look for the most genuine love.  

If you don’t stay for the millennial humor, or the witty dialogue between Sophie and Frances, or the aesthetic scenes of New York City corner stores in black and white, or even the soundtrack — queue “Every1’s a Winner” by Hot Chocolate — stay for Frances herself. She would want you to. Her character reaches down into the throat of every young woman who has ever felt side swept by life and starts her heart beating again. Frances has flaws, yes, but they are overshadowed by the understanding that all Frances really wants is the same thing we all do: true love. And a steady job, too. 

Whether you see the movie or not, perhaps we should all strive to be more like Frances. We should run through the streets to Bowie’s “Modern Love,” we should read Proust in Paris because it’s nice “to do the things that we’re supposed to do when we’re supposed to do them.” We should tell our friends we love them and not expect to hear it back, and we should comfort random people we find crying in hallways. We should watch documentaries and live our lives in contradiction to them anyway, if only because it makes us happy, and we should make love, not fuck. Perhaps if we live in this way — openly and honestly and lovingly — everything will turn out all right, just as it does in the delightful and charming Frances Ha

 

Quotes taken from Frances Ha (2012) directed by Noah Baumbach and written by Noah Baumbach and Greta Gerwig.

 

REVIEW: COMPOSURE at Trustus Theatre, Written and Directed by Jason Stokes

Composure brings to light major issues that, after one-hundred and nineteen years, are still prevalent today. Fact versus interpretation of fact, truth versus bias, opinion-based reporting, righteous versus self-righteous, and the checks and balances between the press and the government…” - Jason Stokes, Playwright

Pictured Clint Poston as James Tillman (left) and Jon Whit McClinton as N. G. Gonzales (right)

It’s been a long time coming for Jason Stokes, writer and director of the play Composure, which premiered Thursday night at Trustus Theatre. The inkling of the idea for presenting this story was born almost 20 years ago when Stokes first learned about this particularly sordid excerpt from South Carolina history that, in 1903, finds a white supremacist lieutenant governor, James Tillman, murdering in broad daylight N.G. Gonzales, journalist and co-founder of The State Newspaper, then walking away a free man. Stokes first developed the story as a screenplay before transforming it for the stage. It was scheduled to be premiered pre-Covid in cooperation with Chad Henderson, former artistic director of Trustus, along with Charlie Finesilver’s original production of House Calls, which premieres August 18th.

A larger story to be told than the one incident of the murder, Stokes does an impressive job of integrating the lead-up and aftermath of the shooting and trial into two acts. In fact, the structure of the play is highly sophisticated as the events and dialogue jump logically across place and time in order to explain not just most efficiently and dramatically the events, but the contributing causes of the events that took place.

The cast is, for the most part, stellar, with some of the finest actors Columbia has to offer on the stage in support of their colleague. It was a treat to see such accomplished actors as Hunter Boyle in the commanding role of Pitchfork Ben Tillman, Stan Gardner as attorney Patrick Nelson, G. Scott Wild as attorney William Thurmond, Kevin Bush as journalist J.A. Hoyt, and Terrance Henderson as Ambrose Gonzales, brother to murder victim N.G. Gonzales. Libby Campbell Turner displayed remarkable theatrical chops in her multiple cross-gendered roles as C.J. Terrel and additional characters, often changing characters on a dime just by adjusting the fit of her tie and her own composure. Her facial features and posture reminded the audience that she is a cast of characters unto herself. And Katie Leitner, as the long-suffering wife of the murderer, displayed a grace and elegance even when called upon to deliver the rare mellow-dramatic line. It was great, too, seeing Nate Herring back on the Trustus stage as George Lagare.

We were surprised, however, by some of the casting decisions.

With powerhouse artists like Bush, Wild, and Gardner on board, why were some of the most demanding roles assigned to some of the weaker actors on the team? As James Tillman, Clint Poston, though a fine supporting actor, was saddled with an incredibly challenging role, a role that seems made for the likes of G. Scott Wild who could so easily slide into the character of the blustery and entitled white Southern fascist Tillman must have been. Poston doesn’t seem to have a handle on how deluded and despicable Tillman was, sometimes coming off as somewhat sympathetic and misunderstood.

And while Brandon Martin at times rises to the level of contemptibility of future SC Governor and Senator Coleman Blease, a man who embraced white supremacy and lynching and violently opposed miscegenation, his physical appearance, posture, and contemporary hairstyle, as well as his time spent on stage when not speaking, make it difficult to believe him as the robust character of Cole Blease. Stan Gardner, on the other hand, would have soared in this role. (Since writing this, we have learned that Mr. Martin joined the cast at a late date to take the place of Stann Gwynn, an artist inordinately well suited to take on the role of Cole Blease. Jasper wishes the best both to Mr. Martin as he acclimates to the role and to Mr. Gwynn as he fully recovers from his medical procedure.)

But the most poorly cast actor, in a slate of otherwise excellent theatrical artists, was Jon Whit McClinton in the critical role of N.G. Gonzales. While McClinton was able to manage the side-role of judge most of the time, though he did break character and snicker at his own mistake at one point, he was out of his element among the artists with whom he shared the stage. The particularly jarring reality is that McClinton played opposite Terrance Henderson as Ambrose Gonzales in the majority of his scenes. Henderson’s stage presence, professionalism, and experience would have delivered a far more serious, and certainly less giddy, character than McClinton was able to provide.

We’re not sure whether Stokes conceptualized the set or if this was the singular purview of veteran scenic designer Danny Harrington, whose work has been a gift to most if not all theatre stages in the Columbia area, but the set for Composure, though problematic for the actors in places (Damn those pipes!), is a work of art itself. A play as complex as Composure could have required a multitude of scene changes. But Harrington’s innovative design—and the flexibility of the actors—allows for one large multi-use set that presents as something quite beautiful from the audience.

With a cast this size costuming can be a financial challenge and for the most part costume designer Andie Nicks does a fine job and, in some cases—like Katie Leitner’s elegant black and white skirted pants ensemble—an exceptional job. If financially possible, more consistency of style would be appreciated, too, particularly when it comes to pleats and cuffs for the gentlemen’s pants, hats vs. no hats, and the standard three button coat of the turn of the 20th century. And a good fit, no matter what the wardrobe, is ideal. Similarly, standardized hairstyles for men invite no comparison whereas the juxtaposition of a contemporary style, like that of Mr. Martin’s, stands out and begs notice, disrupting the flow of the play.

While kicking off the sound and lights posed a problem on Friday night, which Stokes managed with grace and humor, the lighting design by Teddy Palmer was helpful in guiding the audience’s attention to a stage in which, at times, as many as three scenes moved from frozen to active in a matter of seconds. In the best of all possible worlds (and budgets!) more intense spotlights would have been available, but in this world, this lighting worked fine. Background sounds by Jason Stokes were appropriate and complementary, with music added in places to enhance the setting but not overwhelm it.

Overall, it was a delight to see the vision of local multi-talented theatre artist and writer Jason Stokes become a reality. This play and its production are important to this community and beyond for a number of reasons.

Kudos to interim artistic director Dewey Scott-Wiley for following through on this project, begun by Stokes and Henderson, which could have fallen by the wayside once Covid forced its delay. We see far too little new stage work from an abundance of literary artists in SC and Columbia in particular. But local theatre and literary artists will continue to produce new art if given the opportunity to see it come to fruition, as Composure has. South Carolina and South Carolina playwrights have fascinating—and sometimes barely believable—stories to share, such as this story and that of Dr Ian Gale in next week’s premiere of House Calls: The Strange Tale of Dr. Gale.

Sadly, we are not as far removed from the issues and behavior depicted in Composure as we would like to think—we’re simply better at subterfuge. As Stokes writes in his playbill notes, “Composure brings to light major issues that, after one-hundred and nineteen years, are still prevalent today. Fact versus interpretation of fact, truth versus bias, opinion-based reporting, righteous versus self-righteous, and the checks and balances between the press and the government. Both are vital to American existence, both must keep careful watch on the other; but when these powerful forces become more self-aggrandizing entities than protectors of the people they serve, the American existence is lost.”

The question now is What’s next for Composure? Without question, the play should live on, possibly with a shorter first act, possibly continuing the model of more actors performing multiple roles to condense the cast. Some degree of workshopping might be helpful, but not a lot. This project strikes us as a good candidate for festivals. It’s a fascinating story that despite the passage of more than a hundred years still resonates and begs the same questions today that it did in 1903.

Congratulations to the cast and crew of Composure, a new play written and directed by Jason Stokes.

The Jasper Project

THE BEAT: 48 Fables - Here Ya' Go

This is the sound of a band so sure of themselves that they are comfortable trying on all kinds of different sounds and styles from country and blues to Celtic and rock ‘n’ roll.  

48 Fables

Here Ya Go

Self-released 

After a few years of trying out different configurations and lineups, Columbia’s 48 Fables have settled into a three-piece arrangement; ironically resulting in the fullest, most complete sound the band has produced to date. 

The biggest change in the transition was adding lead vocals to drummer Kevin Brewer’s responsibilities, and he’s a natural–his slightly weathered, lived-in voice on songs such as the cautionary tale “Drink It Away,” is a raspier counterpart to bassist Kevin Pettit’s rousing shout on other tracks, such as the Cowboy Mouth-esque “The Fine Details.”  

A trio can be a tough musical vehicle to create a diverse sound within (Think the singular, monolithic sound of ZZ Top), but with the variety of Chris Howard’s guitar tones and styles, there’s no danger of such sameness. There’s even an almost-Irish tune, sung by Kevin Pettit (whose tenure in the local Celtic rock act Loch Ness Johnny means he’s well suited for this assignment) and featuring some seriously frenetic drumming by Brewer. This is the sound of a band so sure of themselves that they are comfortable trying on all kinds of different sounds and styles from country and blues to Celtic and rock ‘n’ roll.  

The other improvement may be the songwriting; there are plenty of bands that can produce a twangy hook, but to hang a decent lyric on it that tells a story is another thing entirely. “Girls Like Her,” lopes along like a lost John Prine tune with lines such as, “He met her on a Friday after the ball game, smoking a Spirit and laughing at hope / Found her a lighter, and sat down beside her, said I got something stronger if you’re not opposed.” By the end of the song, the titular girl is 80 years old, and the lyric, like her life, circles back around to the beginning lines. 

If this had come out in 1997, 48 Fables would have been playing shows with Whiskeytown, The Bottle Rockets, and 6 String Drag. Rather than feeling dated or tied down to the late-90s “Great Alt-Country Scare” that made critical darlings out of those and myriad other twang-leaning acts of the day, the passage of 25 years means that the high-octane Americana of 48 Fables sounds fresh, fun, and meaningful again, and it stretches the definition of what’s possible within the genre.

by Kevin Oliver

THE BEAT: Kevin Oliver Reviews Sean Thomson's Self-Released Jank Volta

Columbia musician Sean Thomson first came to local music fans attention as half of the indie folk duo Post-Timey String Band, and he’s played in The Restoration, Marshall Brown, and the Rare Birds, and more including the upcoming “Zion” project from Saul Seibert. Then there’s the simultaneous stream of lo-fi mostly instrumental albums full of odd instrumentation and sounds, including several where he managed to acquit himself quite well on sitar, even. On this new collection of instrumental compositions, Thomson incorporates traces of all of those prior endeavors while crafting something meditative, intricate, and inventive. 

Even the song titles are creative and fun–with no lyrics, one can presumably name a tune anything, and Thomson manages to come up with delightfully playful names for all eight compositions here, some of which even have at least a tangential relationship to how they sound. “Large Indian Beer,” for example, incorporates some heavy sitar into its stomp-and-drone, while “Never Take a Sitar to Maxwell Street” answers the question of what Jimi Hendrix might have sounded like playing sitar.  

Occasionally Thomson gets serious, as on his version of Blind Blake’s “Sweet Papa Lowdown,” or on a nasty, fuzzed out guitar, or the sunny, island-vibe gone Ventures surf rock of the title track (featuring Jeff Gregory of The Runout on manic congas). More often, he’s enjoying creating brief musical worlds that manage to collide wholly different eras of music in under a couple of minutes. “Fungus,” for example, vacillates between Beatlesque chording and some unsettling electronica.  

The closing track has both the silliest title and the funkiest, slinky feel. “Yanni (heart) NASCAR” doesn’t seem to have anything to do with either cultural phenomenon, but the funk bassline and disco gone wrong atmosphere are undeniably catchy. As the tune slowly grinds to a stop like it just ran out of gas, all I want is to take it back out on the dance floor for another lap or two, along with the rest of this thoroughly entertaining album.