Bambi’s Truth-Bombers

I was away from Milwaukee between the late '70s and mid-'80s, so I wasn't privy to the full local hysteria surrounding Lawrencia Bembenek, the former Milwaukee police officer accused, convicted and imprisoned for murdering her husband's ex-wife. With that gap in my local history knowledge, I was glad to have a refresher via Run Bambi Run, the world premiere musical now playing at the Milwaukee Repertory Theater.

Douglas Goodhart, Megan Loomis, John Carlin and Erika Olson in the Milwaukee Rep’s production of Run Bambi Run. Photo by Michael Brosilow.

And what a history lesson it is. Irreverent and deliciously vulgar, it roars through its nearly three-hours like a souped up Chevy Chevelle pealing down South 27th Street. A Frontline investigation with an infectious back beat, it’s something of a truth-bomb for those—like me—who vaguely remember the 40-year-old story of a tabloid-grabbing murder investigation involving a former Playboy Bunny and the Milwaukee Police Department.

At the center is Laurie (Erika Olson), part Joan Jett and part--as the show's signature song attests--"Polish American Girl."

Taking a cue from John Doyle's innovative productions of Company and Sweeney Todd, the cast here does double duty as singers and orchestra members, playing an impressive array of guitars, percussion, saxophones and even a euphonium (a sort of mini-tuba). The "pit" consists only of drummer Patrick Morrow and keyboardist-music director Dan Kazemi, who play—in true South-Side style—on a small elevated stage behind the bar that is the centerpiece of Scott Davis’ set.

Armando Gutierrez and Erika Olson. Photo by Michael Brosilow

Director Mark Clements and playwright Eric Simonson tell Bambi’s story in fluid, breakneck style. Actors play dramatic scenes with instruments on their backs, ready to swing a guitar or mandolin into place to accompany a song. Composer Gordon Gano (of Violent Femmes fame) has a ball crafting songs in a variety of pop genres: An argument about money between three couples turns into a rollicking polka. Bambi's attorney, Don Eisenberg (Douglas Goodhart), is introduced via a James-Brown-at-the-Apollo-style show-stopper. (He's the hardest working man in the law business.) When a ravenous press corners Police Chief Harold Brier (Matt Daniels) at a press conference, he pulls out a ukulele to warble his evasions. And of course, Bambi herself gets a couple of classic power ballads, complete with some Pat Benatar strutting and guitar strumming.

There is talk of taking Run Bambi Run beyond Milwaukee, and it certainly has the splash, dazzle and heart to draw national crowds. But it obviously has a special place in front of a home-town crowd, who can sway along to a sweet ballad about the proper way to pronounce Kościuszko (the park named for Polish war hero Andrzej Tadeusz Bonawentura Kościuszko).

For now, however, it is definitely a hot Milwaukee ticket, the kind of show that is just as much fun on a return visit.  

Sentimental Journey

In a 1995 interview about his play, Lonely Planet, Steven Dietz talked about the "shock" of the sentimental: “It’s not nudity, it’s not language—the only shocking thing left, frankly, is sentiment, to use our talents to tell the stories that we feel.” 

In a similar vein, Chicago Tribune theater critic Chris Jones recently wrote about Noah Haidle's Birthday Candles, which is now playing at the Northlight Theatre. Disagreeing with the critics in New York, "where sentiment is eschewed and actual feelings are seen as signs of weakness," Jones wrote: "For my money, Birthday Candles is precisely why people go to the theater, which is to think about their families, ponder their past romantic mistakes, stare down the demons of their futures and commune with those they have loved and lost.”

I thought of Jones’ defense and Dietz's call for writers to "risk sentimentality" when I was reading Ann Napolitano's acclaimed and best-selling novel, Hello Beautiful, which could easily be dismissed as “sentimental.” Spanning almost 50 years, it follows the Padavano sisters through family squabbles, marriage, divorce, sibling schisms and reconciliations. There is tragedy and trauma, but not Tragedy and Trauma; the events are the stuff of regular lives rather than the tribulations of kings or queens. The chapters each present a different character’s point of view, which gives the evolving relationships a satisfying resonance and complexity. And while everything isn't tied up neatly in the end, Napolitano dares allow her characters the potential joy of a possible bright future.

Ann Napolitano

Her writing style is simple enough to bring these people right into our lives. Not Hemingway-simple or self-consciously arty, but succinct and conversational, flashing occasionally with bright metaphors that capture mood and psychology with elegance and precision. For example, when the emotionally remote William tries to comfort his sister-in-law after the death of her father: "He could see tears trapped in her eyelashes, and he lost his breath. He could see her sadness traced across the lines of her body, overlaying her arms and legs and the oval of her face."  

Napolitano's description of another sister giving birth is beautiful and rivetingly powerful. After it's over, she describes the new mother: “This identity shuddered through her, welcome like water to a dry riverbed. It felt so elemental and true that Julia must have unknowingly been a mother all along, simply waiting to be joined by her child. Julia had never felt like this before. Her brain was a gleaming engine, and her resourses felt immense. She was clarity." Hello Beautiful is a best-seller that deserves it.

Julia Bullock

I’m a little late in discovering this transcendent singer, but reading about her “brilliant sincerity” in a recent review of a New York recital took me to her recent album, Walking in the Dark. The review focused on her eclectic repertoire and her refusal to limit herself to a single category of art song (“opera,” “spirituals,” “lieder,” “pop”) and her album makes that case as well. It features a “protest song” by Oscar Brown, Jr., a ballad from the folksinger Connie Converse, an excerpt from El Niño, an oratorio by John Adams, and a stunningly beautiful reading of “Who Knows Where the Time Goes,” the ballad written by English folksinger Sandy Denny and made famous by Judy Collins.

In her version of “Who Knows Where the Time Goes,” she builds the sentiment from a whispered, reflective musing—adding her own melodic flourishes to the simple lines—to a gently assertive conclusion. She’s a singer of sensitive intelligence and gorgeous, deep-hearted tone.

Not Just Dumbledore

Michael Gambon in the 1980 National Theatre production of Bertolt Brecht’s The Life of Galileo Galilei.

Michael Gambon died this week, and the obituary headlines identified him, of course, as the man who played Dumbledore. Read a little deeper, however, and you’ll understand the depth of his talent. Like many of the grown-up stars of the Harry Potter films (Ralph Fiennes, Maggie Smith, Imelda Staunton, David Thewlis, Timothy Spall), Gambon was a brilliant and revered stage actor. He had no aspirations to act until he worked building sets at an amateur company, and was given a few small parts onstage. After several years of small rolls, Sir Laurence Olivier recruited him to join the newly formed National Theater, which, Gambon said, needed burley actors like himself to play spear carriers.

Michael Gambon

Of course, he went far beyond that. He achieved international attention playing Galileo at the National, and he went on to play iconic roles in work by Shakespeare (Lear, Marc Antony), Harold Pinter and Alan Ayckbourn. He won a Tony Award for the Broadway transfer of David Hare’s Skylight.

Yes, his Dumbledore was wonderful—all that gentleness and wisdom wrapped up in his large frame and registering in his deeply sonorous baritone. But one role does not an actor make, whether it’s available on DVD or not.

Art 21

It’s been running on public television for 20-plus years, but hard to find in your day-to-day PBS schedule. I happened on a few Art 21: Art in the 21st Century DVDs on a recent rainy day (you know, those round, silvery things that make decent drink coasters), and was reminded of this terrific chronicle of contemporary art.

Xu Bing’s invented calligraphy. From Art 21.

Each profile is about a quarter-hour, and describes the life and work of an artist through their own words. We see them at work, at gallery openings, wandering through their childhood neighborhoods. Over the last few seasons (which are released to PBS every two years) there are familiar names for those with an interest in contemporary art—Anish Kapoor, Ai Weiwei, Elizabeth Murray, Richard Serra—and others that are less well-known.

You can now access every episode on the Art21 website, meander through the familiar and unfamiliar. A recent profile of the Chinese artist Song Dong describes his project of writing with water on stone, where the lines or characters evaporate before the drawing is complete. Another focuses on Xu Bing, an accomplished calligrapher who creates faux Chinese characters which are actually stylized English words or meaningless text. Meander around the website for a thorough and fascinating look at today’s rapidly transforming art world.

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I’ll be taking a week off, so look for the next Friday Five on October 13th. In the meantime, feel free to go back to the home page and scroll around and look for any editions you might have missed.

Have a good two weeks.