Lizzie Borden @ The Living Theatre

Lizzie Borden took an axe,
Gave her mother 40 whacks,
When she saw what she had done,
Gave her father 41...

At turns touching, absurd, anachronisistic and delightfully wicked, the rock musical adaptation of this Victorian-era tale is irresistibly campy. Creators Steven Cheslik-DeMeyer, Tim Maner, and Alan Stevens Hewitt have taken great liberties to fill in the historical blanks, injecting the Lizzie Borden household with child abuse and lesbian love to heighten the drama and provide motivation for the infamous double homicide.

The show is equally carried by a cast of four women boasting strong vocal talents: Lizzie Borden (Jenny Fellner), her 'friend' Alice Russell (Marie-France Arcilla), Lizzie's older sister Emma Borden (Lisa Birnbaum), and the maid Bridge "Maggie" Sullivan (Carrie Cimma). The latter two were my personal favorites: Birbaum rode the line of Lita Ford rock goddess dressed in black leggings, spike heels, and Victorian-cum-glam metal jacket topped off by pouting lips and headbanging tosses of her chestnut hair, while Cimma, done up in steampunk dyke chic regalia, brought comic relief delivered in a sardonic Irish brogue.

The musical composition was quite interesting at times (particularly in the “Shattercane and Velvet Grass" duet between Lizzie and Maggie), although more often it was a solid backdrop to showcase the voices onstage. Lyrically, there were a few cringe-worthy moments, but that's not to say there weren't clever ones, like Lizzie deeming herself the "Yankee Clytemnestra."

Lizzie Borden is described as a "rock road show," which hints at the possible impetus for some of the choices in production design, particularly the use of head mics as well as microphones with stands. I see how it added to the 'live rock show' feel of the piece as the four were backed by a tight live band, but the awkwardness of the long cords also stood in the way of more dynamic movements and moments between characters onstage.

In the end, this is an experience not to be missed - I have already made plans to attend again. My only hope for next time is that there will be MUCH more blood...

For more information, visit the official site, here.

The Return of Ulysses @ Wolf Trap Opera Company

Once again, I am inspired and overwhelmed by the aesthetics of an opera. Director James Marvel's spartan yet sumptuous production of Monteverdi's 1640 telling of The Odyssey hinged on the artful interplay of sound, texture, light, and video imagery. The set was stark muted silver and rusted around the edges providing a post-apocalyptic aura that was expertly juxtaposed with the organic imagery projected upon it throughout the show. Whether large looming eyes, rivulets of blood, adust landscapes or stormy waves at sea, the moving images behind the moving players onstage merged to present evocative and entrancing tableau after tableau.

The costumery also combined minimalism with broad splashy strokes of maximalism. From the suitors dressed in Mad Max meets Gotti brothers sleaze-wear to Ulysses' Sigue Sigue Sputnik fishnet mask and Minerva's spiked metal headpiece and leather tartan with thigh high boots, many of the looks from the show would have been quite at home on the couture runways of Galliano, Gareth Pugh, or Issey Miyake. Penelope was Elvira in mourning as she laid bare her wretched longing with heartbreaking intensity, the long red hair that she anxiously pulled out in clumps offset by dramatic Kabuki-style eyebrows and sparkling black Morticia Adams dress. This is what the term 'Rock Opera' was made for. The execution and aesthetic dynamism of the production was thrilling beyond expectation. Is it any wonder that the early design meetings for this show were held at Wierd?

Design Team:

Projections: S. Katy Tucker
Costumes: Andrea Huelse
Set: Eric Allgeier

For more info, check out this review by a seasoned opera critic at the Baltimore Sun.

Salome

Bondage, incest, madness, murder, veiled voyeurism and necrophilia make Richard Strauss' 1905 opera Salome a dark delight. Based on Oscar Wilde's tragedy written in 1891, it is the Biblical tale of Salome, a young princess who performs the Dance of the Seven Veils for her lecherous stepfather, King Herod, so that she may indulge her fantasy of having John the Baptist's head served to her on a silver platter.

A current production at Toledo Opera directed by James Marvel boasts a cast of some of America's finest operatic talent. The set is stark and effective, with a looming moon and naked scaffolding. Lights by Tlaloc Lopez-Watermann illuminate and create the image of a vampiric skull and a technicolor horrorscape which sets an eerie and jarring tone from the start. The orchestra is positioned onstage, and the actors move through the players, giving the audience's eyes much to feast on. While other productions keep the same heightened and almost painful intensity throughout, Marvel's show has a definite arc of emotion, with moments of sweetness to counter and enrich the dark, violent eroticism of the piece. When Salome, portrayed expertly by Amy Johnson, sings a twenty minute aria to the bleeding, decapitated head of John the Baptist at the climax of the tale, I couldn't help but feel for the lovesick princess. "If you looked at me, you would have loved me," she opines before kissing his bluish lips.

There is no kitsch in the end, despite how absurd it may seem to writhe about in a Dionysian fervor whilst singing to a bloody head. Decades before contemporary horror coalesced into a genre, Strauss created an opera with Wilde's storyline that is as gory and as sexy as your favorite Troma film, with the same level of seething seriousness as F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu.

To taste for yourself, Netflix Steven Berkoff's surreal, kabuki-esque production of Wilde's play, or Luc Bondy's 1997 production of Richard Strauss' opera at Royal Opera Covent Garden.

Berlin//NYC

Over the past week I came across three events positioned to explore the seedy recesses of Berlin history: Dances of Vice's most recent party, Visions of Weimar; a one-woman show based on the music of Kurt Weill, Lily: Her Life, His Music; and a new club night that added me on MySpace (ha), called Berlin NYC.



The crowd at D.O.V. seemed to look better than ever, which is probably because the dark cabaret aesthetic is at the stylistic core of many of the regular patrons' wardrobes.

Wren Britton, creator of jewelry/clothing line Purevile and queen of the D.O.V. vendors was there as usual selling his extraordinary wares while dressed in an extravagant take on the era's costumery.


(The codpiece is vintage, he professed).


As you can see, the outfits of the attendees really were as entertaining as the entertainment, which included some strip tease, torch songs, and cabaret acts, as one would expect given the theme.

(This lady, ever the dandy, came dressed as a moustachioed male impersonator.)

The evening left me really wanting to believe in a renewal of dark NYC nightlife. All I'm looking for are more events like these that can successfully combine historical and cultural elements with the usual sex, drugs, and RnR to make things more interesting.

The Lily show was a different experience altogether. Conceived and performed by mezzo Audrey Babcock and directed by James Marvel, the piece took Jewish prostitute-cum-nightclub performer Lily Weiss from Berlin to Paris in the 1930's and Hollywood in the 40's through the songs of Kurt Weill. The section set in Germany was my favorite, featuring a particularly moving performance by Babcock that had her bruised and battered from an abusive lover, drunk on Johnnie Walker and crooning the "Alabama Song," turning a trick atop the piano as dollar bills were violently shoved into her mouth, attempting switchblade suicide, and eventually escaping the country after Kristallnacht. Babcock sang with biting vulnerability - beaten but never beaten, beaten down. The projections (featuring images inspired by George Grosz and Otto Dix) along with the sound effects that accompanied her made the experience a electric one. A real snapshot of the period.

(And all the alcohol they used onstage was real).























Last in this triptych of Berlin-related events is a new club night in Long Island City. Not really sure why it's called what it is, but there's always plenty of German material in the Goth, Synthpop and Industrial that's usually played at parties such as these. Either way, I'll surely find out when I check out the next one...