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Arts
Every two weeks, Critical Mass will feature one Philly love note in its collaboration with blogger Emma Fried-Cassorla of phillylovenotes.com.
LOVE NOTE RECIPIENT: Duchamp's Étant donnés (Given: 1 The Waterfall, 2. The Illuminating Gas, French: Étant donnés: 1° la chute d'eau / 2° le gaz d'éclairage) in the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
I AM: Scientist, artist, sometimes writer about science and art, distractable weirdo, slowsee-er
MY LOVE NOTE:
Dear Duchamp's Étant donnés,
Probably what I love about this piece is its hidden badassery. Duchamp, obviously was a complete 
badass, and he gave up the art world (somehow convincing everyone he had devoted his life to chess), to work on Étant donnés. He worked on it in semi-secret, maintaining the chess charade, for decades, (1946-66), and it wasn't unveiled until after his death.
So it is a secret piece and he made it for itself, and never had to confront a critical reception to it, though he did make it to be on display at the PMA. And obviously, looking at it — you realize that it's the work of someone completely obsessed. There is something weirdly tangible about that kind of stalker-y intense love produced in making something while obsessed by it and this piece, which I called "fucking-crazy-secret-naked-dead-waterfall" when I first saw it — and Étant donnés totally has it.
I stumbled on it in 2005. I knew about it, but somehow didn't realize it was at the PMA till my mom (my mom! of all people!) took me into this secret back room in the Duchamp section (thanks to Anne d'Harnoncourt the museum has one of the best Duchamp collections in the world) and pointed me to this mysterious door with strange peepholes ... and ... well, just total weirdness. One person at a time has to peep through the door, and of course you are instantly trapped in this bonkers voyeuristic scene. OK, so there's the mysterious Laura Palmer-y nude (there is a rip near her belly, btw. Check it out, poor thing), but the whole tableau is so weirdly composed and unbent at the same time: the landscape, the perfect, glitttery waterfall, the upraised lantern. It's so still, but it just seems like it's going to degenerate into chaos at any minute. The whole scene is full of untold stories. I don't know what to say. It's strange and brilliant and secret and it was made for here. This thing is a fucking treasure! I love you, Étant donnés.
Love, Alison Dell
P.S. The world should know that the PMA's upcoming "Dancing Around the Bride," celebrating Duchamp's influence on John Cage, Merce Cunnungham, Jasper Johns and Robert Rauchenberg, is going to be pretty great. It opens October 30.
Have a favorite spot you'd like to write a love note to? Send it to the author at phillylovenotes@gmail.com.
Every year, there's hundreds and hundreds of performances at the Philly Fringe and Live Arts Festival, and unless it's one of the big shows, it's sometimes hard to tell what you're going to get. Here at Critical Mass we're sending writers to as many shows as we possibly can for 75 pocket-sized reviews over the course of the fest. Check back in with us at On The Fringe every day for real talk on what these things actually are!
SHOW: Zero Cost House
GROUP: Pig Iron Theatre Company
GENRE: Theater
ATTENDED: Thu., Sept. 13, 7 p.m.
CLOSES: Sat., Sept 22
BRIEF SELF-DESCRIPTION: Bring Toshiki Okada’s sly, personal, and idiosyncratic writing together with Pig Iron’s raucous performance spirit, and you have Zero Cost House, a time- and space-bending autobiographical production about drastic relocations, rereading Walden, remaking government, and the freedom and heaviness of that moment when what’s impossible becomes concrete.
WE THINK: I went in with high expectations — my experiences with Pig Iron haven't just been good, they've been "holy crap, that was the best production of Shakespeare I have ever seen" (as in last year's Twelfth Night) or something equally hand-flappy every single time. But Zero Cost House, an autobiographical sort of thing developed with Pig Iron by Japanese experimental playwright Toshiki Okada, isn't nearly as accessible as their previous source material. There's an interesting theme of recurrence with slight change, with moments and themes cycling back into the play in slightly different forms. For example: Both idealist, 23-year-old Okada and middle-aged, successful Okada are characters. Young Okada loves Thoreau's Walden and talks about it a lot in the first act; in the third act, Thoreau's ideas of cities as inherently toxic places come back in the form of Current Okada's paranoia about radiation poisoning if he stays in Tokyo after the Fukushima disaster. This sort of callback occurs in everything from music cues to throwaway lines to characters to big themes.
Further on this idea of cycles, each of the five actors slowly goes on a round-robin circuit through several characters over the play's three acts (every actor has a turn as Current Okada, for example). These shifts don't necessarily line up with a costume change or even the actor leaving the stage, which is interesting, and not confusing to follow, exactly. But I was a little disappointed that director Dan Rothenberg didn't give the audience a little more help following along by getting the ensemble's actors to be a little more consistent on each character's body language and speech mannerisms, as those are often the only thing the audience has to go on.
Instead, for example, Dito Van Reigersberg, as the first Current Okada, establishes the character as having some nervous hand movements and a slight stammer; as the character passes between actors, these come back to various degrees, but it definitely doesn't feel like the character is a discrete spirit, hopping from body to body. Young Okada, also passed around a few times, has hardly anything physical to distinguish himself as a character other than "usually sitting at a desk and writing." The audience is left sometimes trying figuring out who each actor solely by the context of what he or she is saying, which can start feeling like you're being forced to play a shell game. With that and the mystery of why people onstage occasionally get stuck in loops of movement, and playing "spot the recurrent idea," it's less like being sucked into the friendly world of Twelfth Night or Cankerblossom and more like trying to figure out a puzzle for a couple hours.
This didn't drive me as nuts as it did some. I can't say I've never been irritated when some acclaimed Live Arts production turns out to be embarrassingly pretentious and self-congratulatory (my shorthand among friends for this type of bummer is "a Ten-Minute Abraham Lincoln Hand Job," from a 2008 show that remains the only live-theater performance I've ever walked out of at intermission). But usually, the anger comes from a feeling of being tricked — like, "This play pretended like it had something of substance to say, and I feel foolish for trusting it now that it turns out to be all smoke and mirrors and empty shock." However, I very much didn't get the impression there was nothing going on underneath Zero Cost House — I just think there's so many variables involved that it might not all be getting across in one two-hour sitting.
(Incidentally, the weird promo photos with the small Asian child and the people in giant animal mascot heads have nothing to do with the production, other than an apparent play-within-a-play starring suburban bunnies, in full bunny suits, that is being acted out as Young Okada writes it. From what I've heard, Pig Iron only got the final script for Zero Cost House a couple weeks before it opened, which makes a lot of sense with those photos and a lot of other things about the production, too.)
Every year, there's hundreds and hundreds of performances at the Philly Fringe and Live Arts Festival, and unless it's one of the big shows, it's sometimes hard to tell what you're going to get. Here at Critical Mass we're sending writers to as many shows as we possibly can for 75 pocket-sized reviews over the course of the fest. Check back in with us at On The Fringe every day for real talk on what these things actually are!
SHOW: The End of Hope, the End of Desire
GROUP: Tiny Dynamite & Extreme Measures
GENRE: Theater
ATTENDED: Fri. Sept 14, 10 p.m.
CLOSES: Fri., Sept 21
BRIEF SELF-DESCRIPTION: Two strangers meet up for a night of "anything goes" and are surprised to see where it takes them. Mice, god, fame, and Tony Blair are only a few of the things that come up in this hilarious comedy from Belfast playwright David Ireland about people trying to connect.
WE THINK: Fresh from describing the anal-sex proclivities of a beau in Raw Stitch, Corinna Burns runs down the block to Sansom Street’s church/theater, puts on a mouse mask, gets an Irish accent, jumps under the covers and confronts equally Irish Jared Michael Delaney on the topics of the sex they just had, the differences between Channel 4 and ITV, the need to hide and unwitting fame. With its bare-bones setting and quiet conversational largesse, End of Hope aims low but scores wildly high with a quietly absurd and delightful post-coital chat.
—A.D. Amorosi
Every year, there's hundreds and hundreds of performances at the Philly Fringe and Live Arts Festival, and unless it's one of the big shows, it's sometimes hard to tell what you're going to get. Here at Critical Mass we're sending writers to as many shows as we possibly can for 75 pocket-sized reviews over the course of the fest. Check back in with us at On The Fringe every day for real talk on what these things actually are!
SHOW: Raw Stitch
GROUP: Jaqueline Goldfinger
GENRE: Theater/monologues
ATTENDED: Fri., Sept. 14, 7 p.m.
CLOSES: Sat., Sept. 22
BRIEF SELF-DESCRIPTION: A pub play for the enthusiastically inebriated and sexually active. Nine spanking new monologues including Miss Coitus Interruptus, Double Slut Gene, and Hector Has Herpes (a Sing-A-Long STD PSA). A PBR, condoms, and dental dams included with the price of admission.
WE THINK: Eight Philly actresses (Amanda Schoonover, Miriam White, Corrina Burns, Bailey Shaw, Jennifer MacMillan, Hannah Van Sciver, Sarah Schol, Megan Slater) walk into a bar. There they meet Jacqueline Goldfinger’s texts and Anna Marquardt’s original songs for a night of poetic, character-driven ribaldry. Scratch that — these women hit up Quig’s Pub to talk frank and funny sexuality of the saltiest kind (sometimes literally, as in a bit about sucking in loads of sperm for its sodium chloride).
Every year, there's hundreds and hundreds of performances at the Philly Fringe and Live Arts Festival, and unless it's one of the big shows, it's sometimes hard to tell what you're going to get. Here at Critical Mass we're sending writers to as many shows as we possibly can for 75 pocket-sized reviews over the course of the fest. Check back in with us at On The Fringe every day for real talk on what these things actually are!
SHOW: The Artists’ Women
GROUP: YeuxVeuxBelle Collective
GENRE: Theater
ATTENDED: Fri., Sept 14, 8 p.m.
CLOSES: Sun., Sept. 16
BRIEF SELF-DESCRIPTION: Follow Camille Claudel on her journey into madness guided by the women of different artists throughout history. These women congregate in timeless Paris, France and share stories of love, betrayal, fear, and envy as they live with their artists and battle the muse, who will always come first.
WE THINK: With all due respect to Jonathan Richman, Pablo Picasso must’ve been called an asshole at some point. Monet, Duchamp and Rodin, too. All of the artists in The Artists’ Women are assholes, and their women — muses and artists in their own right — don’t come off too well, either. They’re prone to tantrums that undermine their talent, are called “bitch” and “cunt,” and, in Camille Claudel’s case, are locked away in an asylum. All great artists are tortured, this overlong production argues. But here it’s the audience that suffers most, subjected to a nearly three-hour parade of rageaholics, martyrs and drama queens who couldn’t come to a consensus on whether to play it straight or camp it up.
—M.J. Fine
Every year, there's hundreds and hundreds of performances at the Philly Fringe and Live Arts Festival, and unless it's one of the big shows, it's sometimes hard to tell what you're going to get. Here at Critical Mass we're sending writers to as many shows as we possibly can for 75 pocket-sized reviews over the course of the fest. Check back in with us at On The Fringe every day for real talk on what these things actually are!
SHOW: The Gate Reopened
GROUP: Brian Sanders' JUNK
GENRE: Dance
ATTENDED: Fri., Sept. 14, 10 p.m.
CLOSES: Sat., Sept. 22
BRIEF SELF-DESCRIPTION: The Gate Reopened takes over Pier 9, a municipal warehouse on the Delaware River that is nearly 100 feet wide by 535 feet long and where international steamers once docked. Inside this massive structure The Gate has been built anew as a 20-foot high cylindrical octagon. With theater-in-the-round seating, audiences encircle the eight dancers in what has become a futuristic, post-industrial, post-apocalyptic coliseum. Performers suspend, rebound, propel, ascend, hover, mount, hang, and free-fall all for the sake of The Gate. Like a giant jungle gym for the insane with spinning ladders, moving walls, water, and breathtaking formations of bodies, The Gate Reopened is an exhilarating feast of exciting physicality and creativity, elegantly served up with beauty and wit.
WE THINK: This is another of Brian Sanders’ trademark sexy thrill rides that makes you think, “Did he/she really do that?” It’s packed with precarious, ingenious stunts that put his toned corps through the physical wringer, as they spin, climb, backbend, free-fall and otherwise cavort about an industrial playground/cage-match set. A reimagining of an earlier work that drew big crowds at the 2003 Fringe, this version is even more spectacular. But those who recall the former show’s famed "flying boobs" routine (involving two topless women spinning around on a suspended metal ladder) can rest assured that part’s back, and it still makes you go wow.
Yet The Gate Reopened is more than just breathtaking physical stunts. There’s a glorious artistry that captivates your senses. You’re taken away from the everyday, to be whisked off into a world that’s dark and mysterious and full of fantastic beautiful imagery. Sanders' shows always spark a good buzz, and this one’s no exception.
Every year, there's hundreds and hundreds of performances at the Philly Fringe and Live Arts Festival, and unless it's one of the big shows, it's sometimes hard to tell what you're going to get. Here at Critical Mass we're sending writers to as many shows as we possibly can for 75 pocket-sized reviews over the course of the fest. Check back in with us at On The Fringe every day for real talk on what these things actually are!
SHOW: EvictionProof PeepShow Home
GROUP: Vashti Dubois and family
GENRE: Interdisciplinary
ATTENDED: Fri., Sept. 14, 7:30 p.m.
CLOSES: Sun., Sept. 16
BRIEF SELF-DESCRIPTION: The EvictionProof PeepShow Home is a multi-disciplinary performance art project about a house fighting to stay with its family—a combination show home, peep show, fire sale, and protest. The show artfully tackles the issues of foreclosure and eviction in Philadelphia.
WE THINK: While a lot of this year's Fringe programming seems to include literal nudity, there's a different sort of nakedness on display at Vashti Dubois' Germantown home. There's an unflinching sincerity as strangers are welcomed in by the Dubois family. Every room in this house has its own story. One contains the project "We Are You, You Are We," where, upon entry, visitors have their photo taken in an attempt to fill in the gaps of the fractured family portraits on the walls. The living room proves to be another arresting scene. It looks grand on the surface, but it's also the heart of some very deep scars. The family is gathered here and airing out their grievances. Voices of dissent build on top of one another until finally being silenced by Vashti, the matriarch. This is a look at how a house handles losing its tenants. It simply holds on, and tries to maintain its identity. Children were made here, and they were raised here. It has been the site of both good times and dismal occurrences alike. The show may be ending, but this house has staying power.
—Chris Brown
Every year, there's hundreds and hundreds of performances at the Philly Fringe and Live Arts Festival, and unless it's one of the big shows, it's sometimes hard to tell what you're going to get. Here at Critical Mass we're sending writers to as many shows as we possibly can for 75 pocket-sized reviews over the course of the fest. Check back in with us at On The Fringe every day for real talk on what these things actually are!
SHOW: Antony & Cleopatra: Infinite Lives
GROUP: The Porch Room/The Underground Shakespeare Company
GENRE: Theater
ATTENDED: Fri., Sept. 14, 8 p.m.
CLOSES: Sat., Sept. 15
BRIEF SELF-DESCRIPTION: A play-within-a-play version of Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra. An Egyptian expatriate gets caught between two revolutionaries—her fiancé, an activist director who tries to upend his commissioned Shakespeare production, and her brother, a nationalist fresh from the violence of Tahrir Square.
WE THINK: Not so much a play-within-a-play as a neat little play trying to sneak out from underneath and then merge with a much grander play. Perhaps a molecule too ambitious and definitely 15 minutes too long, its heart is still in the right place and its cast is excellent. Bonus points for acknowledging that many people find the line “The poop-beaten gold” to be hilarious.
—Rodney Anonymous
Every year, there's hundreds and hundreds of performances at the Philly Fringe and Live Arts Festival, and unless it's one of the big shows, it's sometimes hard to tell what you're going to get. Here at Critical Mass we're sending writers to as many shows as we possibly can for 75 pocket-sized reviews over the course of the fest. Check back in with us at On The Fringe every day for real talk on what these things actually are!
SHOW: You Don’t Say
GROUP: Tangle
GENRE: Circus theater
ATTENDED: Thu., Sept. 13, 8 p.m.
CLOSES: Sat., Sept. 15
BRIEF SELF-DESCRIPTION: A trapeze, a rope, a dinner table. Tangle's aerial acrobats explore relationships and resist the pull of gravity in this dynamic circus-theater show. When a group of friends gather for an evening, they misread intentions, intensify attachments, avoid calls, and splice lines of communication.
WE THINK: If Hazel should invite you to her next dinner party, you may want to pass. There’s a lot of tension, ex-girlfriend drama and hurt feelings — plus everyone else will be way better than you at aerial acrobatics. Tangle cleverly interweaves this silent drama with feats of flexibility, strength and skill performed on trapeze, rope, aerial silk and other props. Aside from the sheer terror/awe of watching the pregnant Deena Weisberg take gracefully to the trapeze and self-mocking girls-at-a-dinner-party sound pieces, the fun is watching relationships resolve (and then dissolve) as the women swing through the air and then, often as not, leave one another hanging.
Every year, there's hundreds and hundreds of performances at the Philly Fringe and Live Arts Festival, and unless it's one of the big shows, it's sometimes hard to tell what you're going to get. Here at Critical Mass we're sending writers to as many shows as we possibly can for 75 pocket-sized reviews over the course of the fest. Check back in with us at On The Fringe every day for real talk on what these things actually are!
SHOW: Falstaff
GROUP: Poor Richard’s Opera
GENRE: Music
ATTENDED: Thu., Sept. 13, 7:30 p.m.
CLOSES: Sat., Sept. 15
BRIEF SELF-DESCRIPTION: Ladies beware. Shakespeare’s delightful yet disgusting Falstaff seduces and swindles via modern technology and social media in Poor Richard’s Opera’s take on Verdi’s timeless opera about love of all kinds at all ages. Sung in Italian with inventive English super titles.
WE THINK: You don’t have to be an opera aficionado to be utterly charmed by Poor Richard’s take on Falstaff, which marries a traditional vocal approach with modern touches. Under Siddhartha Misra’s direction, the fresh supertitles incorporate screenshots of text messages, tweets and a few short video vignettes. José Andrade is repulsive, pathetic and ultimately relatable as Falstaff, who gets his comeuppance after trying to snag two rich ladies with identical texts. Also worth singling out are Maren Montalbano as the crafty, comic go-between Dame Quickly and Rebecca Brinkley Nannetta, an ingenue in sweatpants. The Trinity Center for Urban Life resounds with their voices, and Ting Ting Wong’s brisk piano is all the accompaniment they need.
—M.J. Fine
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