“The Only Thing?”
“Are we winning?”
It's the question of the moment, I suppose, particularly with a rather important contest coming in November. But it's always been the great American question. After all, according to St. Vince:
Lombardi's ethos has only grown over the decades. Screaming Little League dads and Soccer Moms are a bit of a sit-com cliche. But crazed fandom is de rigeur at sporting events. Directors love to let their cameras pan the football crowds for the craziest of the crazy. During the daytime, sports networks are overrun with angry pundits coming to blows over coaching decisions and referee calls. Coaches receive death threats.
Gordon Ramsay offers his signature brand of gentle constructive criticism on Hell's Kitchen.
Noting trends among competitive sports fans, the greater media world has eagerly hopped on the testosterone bandwagon. We once watched Julia Child explain how to perfectly roast a chicken or heard a pop star sing their latest hit on a variety show. Today we thrill to cutthroat competitions to be the Top Chef or to Beat Bobby Flay. If we’re feeling particularly sadistic, we might turn on Hell’s Kitchen and watch an upstart try to get a rare smile of approval out of Gordon Ramsay. And a pop star isn't a pop star until she vanquishes her American Idol rivals, and Lionel Ritchie blesses her every melisma.
"Winning!" declared Charlie Sheen during his infamous 2011 Tiger Blood meltdown. As any readers of Homer’s Iliad or Shakespeare’s history plays know, gloating over victories—real or imagined, noble or craven—is nothing new or uniquely American. The urge is everywhere, deep in our DNA, perhaps. Avoiding it, I suppose, would involve retreating to a secluded Buddhist monastery. Until then, we’re either in our corners with our gloves on, or in the front row seats, waiting for the opening bell.
American Players Theatre
Laura Rook, Colleen Madden, Maggie Cramer, Elizabeth Reese and Tracy Michelle Arnold in APT's Dancing at Lughnasa. Photo by Liz Lauren.
It’s been a good year at APT. The New York Times sent one of its best arts writers to rural Spring Green to laud “An Unexpected Bright Spot in Theater.” I was able to see three of the superb main stage productions a few weeks ago. Here are a few moments that linger.
Dancing at Lughnasa: Brian Friel’s wistful, autobiographical play filters its memories—Glass Menagerie style—through a male narrator (performed with steely nostalgia by Marcus Truchinski), but there are five compelling female roles and the APT company was in top form.
Brian Mani as Lear and Samantha Newcomb as Cordelia. Photo by Liz Lauren.
Amid the 1936 rural poverty and Catholic orthodoxy of County Donegal, the Mundy sisters go about their hardscrabble day-to-day, but for a moment, they contemplate going to the La Lughnasa dance, part of the festival to honor a Celtic (and very un-Catholic) god. As the women contemplate, then dream of going to the dance, it seems the pagan spirit of the festival takes hold of them. Their creaky new radio scratches out a lively tune and they start to dance with greater and greater abandon, mounting tables, shrieking with joy, and sending their carefully folded linens cascading through the air. It’s one of many lovely moments crafted by director Brenda Devita.
King Lear: Yes, the winds did blow and crack their cheeks, but director Tim Ocel’s approach the Shakespeare’s tragedy was spare and simple. As Lear, Brian Mani found reserves of rage and delirium when it was required. But for me, the most powerful moments in this production came in the calm after the storm, when Edgar (Nathan Barlow) and Gloucester (James DeVita) encounter Lear in his gentlest, maddest moments. ”O thou side-piercing sight,” says Edgar. Gloucester declares: “O ruined piece of nature, this great world/shall so wear out to naught.” Later in Act Four, Lear encounters his estranged daughter, Cordelia (Samantha Newcomb), and the quiet tenderness between them lands as powerfully as the “Howls” that will mark the play’s devastating conclusion.
Nate Burger and Phoebe González in APT's Ring Round the Moon. Photo by Liz Lauren.
Ring Round the Moon: What a swell party this is. French farce at its most elegant and hilarious, Jean Anouilh’s 1947 play (originally called Invitation to the Castle) was adapted by Christopher Fry in 1950 when the legendary director Peter Brook saw its comic potential. (The original production featured Brig heavyweights like Paul Scofield, Claire Bloom and Margaret Rutherford.) APT’s production, flawlessly directed by Laura Gordon, shows off the dazzling comedy chops of the company (18 actors in all). The cast is, by today’s standards, massive, but the play unfolds in a series of gem-like comic duets. As the twin brothers at the center of the plot—both played by Nate Burger—play a complicated game of romantic deception, the rest of the partygoers become increasingly entangled in a host of romantic and financial complications. It all ends sweetly, of course. But along the way there is biting comedy and savvy satire about wealth and class that is devilishly appropriate to our fraught times.
Alex Edelman
Alex Edelman in Just for Us.
So...you've heard the one about the rabbi who walks into a bar. How about the one where a Jewish kid walks into an intimate white supremacist meeting. Not exactly Henny Youngman stuff, yes? But it's the nail-biting scenario at the heart of Alex Edelman's brilliant stand-up comedy special, Just for Us. "There's a part of me that genuinely walked into this room thinking, 'There just anti-semites because they haven't met Alex yet!" By turns hilarious, harrowing and tender, it deserves the attention it's been getting, including an Emmy Award for Outstanding Writing for a Variety Special. You can stream it now on HBO/MAX--Here's a preview.
Edward Steed
Yes, The New Yorker is meant to be read. But if you’re like me, that only comes after the required “flip-through,” a quick perusal of the dozen or so cartoons that are buried among the long-form journalism. I confess I don’t always notice the names of the authors/artists, but I always can spot a panel by Edward Steed. He’s a worthy heir to the legendary Charles Addams and William Steig, and he just published a book!
To whet your appetite, here’s a taste. (Click on each panel to enlarge.)
Angelique and Celia
Caribbean and African pop is for dancing, as many folks discovered this summer at the Milwaukee Lake Park concert series, where Wesli and Mokoomba were among the performers. If the cooler weather has got you down, I suggest you revisit the dancing days of summer. Move that coffee table out of the way, put on your dancing shoes, and merengue like no one is watching. Or heck, do like the kids do--make a little video and throw it up on TikTok and watch the Hearts come flooding in. Here's a lively number to get you started: Angelique Kidjo paying homage to the great Cuban star, Celia Cruz.
Have a good week.