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OUR FRIENDS... OLD AND NEW... |
2008 |
17th
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Del destierro, al encuentro con el alma, el peregrinaje por la tierra, y...
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AllArtsReview4U |
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Mujeres de
50 |
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BestActing: Lilliana
Pecora (Teatro de la Luna), Full cast ("Redcoats"),
Maggie Glauber/Joe Isenberg (Theater Alliance),Full cast "Hairspray"
(Hippodrome), Stephen Gregory Smith Felicia Curry (MetroStage),
DanManning Colleen Delany (RepStage), Ole Hass/Milicent Scarlett
(the In Series), Steve Connell/Sekou (Signature), Nonie
Newton-Breen (Olney), Richard Pilcher, John Dow (Olney) |
by Bob Anthony
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Liliana Pecora has an amazing comedic talent...closest thing to
Imogene Coca you've ever seen...in her one woman show "Mujeres
de 50" as part of Argentina's contribution to the annual Teatro
de la Luna international festival. She is small in stature but
huge in talent as she kept the audience in stitches for a full
90 minutes. She played about half a dozen roles as a group of
ladies who meet at their 30th high school reunion. From trying
to fit into her 20's clothes to demonstrating a gynecological
examination for her friends, she laid one comedy line or routine
on top of another. A few break scenes had her doing some
wonderful ballet work across the stage. And she used every body
muscle to indicate social attitude and age-related illness.
Definitely a powerhouse presentation. |
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Washington’s Liveliest Theatre Website
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Mujeres de
50
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by
Rosalind Lacy |
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Argentine actress Liliana Pecora is the Sarah Bernhardt of comic
actresses. Pecora doesn’t speak English at all, she told us on opening
night. That’s like Bernhardt who never spoke or understood English and
was featured as the leading character in last week’s play. Also as
versatile as Bernhardt, Pecora brought a full-house to its feet for her
depiction of eight female characters.
Her characters are grotesque caricatures of the funny things women do to
battle the abdominal bulge or to stave off hot flashes, all to survive
in a social setting. Especially before attending an ego-threatening 33rd
year high school reunion that raises painful questions like: Will we
recognize each other? Will my age show? Does it matter that I’m divorced
four times? After chatting with a man on the Internet, what’s a first
date like? Is all that crash dieting really worth the effort to get a
man? Is this journey a mission impossible?
Sound like a re-run of adolescence? Well, maybe the women in Women of 50
are in a mid life crisis of middle-aged adolescence. Not quite 50, only
age 49, Liliana suffers “an attack of wrinkles” in the morning because
she looks in a mirror. Lights dim and she transforms into another life
form: in a hilarious take-off of a ballerina dancing The Swan. Yes,
Pecora’s got it right. The body may betray us but in our mind we’re
still age twenty. This sequence sets us up later for one of the best
laugh lines and truisms in the play: “I have no wrinkles and blotches.
They only appear when I put on my glasses.” Age is in the mind of
whoever is looking in the mirror.
This satiric 85 minute one-act is written by Daniela Di Segni, and a
woman who knows what self-esteem is all about, Hilda Levy, a
psychologist specializing in feminine problems. The piece is adapted by
Susana Nova. and Pecora herself, who is also the director. A
triple-talent threat, Pecora most recently in 2006, was nominated for
Best Actress by the FLORENCIO, an equivalent award to the Tony on
Broadway. .
Artistic director Mario Marcel introduced Pecora by telling us “pecora”
in Spanish means “one who is bothersome.” But by the end of the show,
although Pecora may stir up trouble between her imaginary characters in
her earthy, energetic portrayals of, Susana, Suzie, Clarita, Christiana,
Leticia, among others-I lost count after awhile, as an actress, with the
energy of a blowtorch, she’s a charmer. She even works in an
impersonation of Lucille Ball after the recognizable “I Love Lucy” theme
is piped in. Remember that television show?
After that the play is a fast paced whirl, with silly moments, where
characters change, with a flick of the actress’s head or spin of her
body; or a dropped register of her voice. There are the screaming
moments of recognition. Then there’s the Barbie Doll girl who had “a
complete lift” from toe to head, whose wide-eyed, pop-eyed expression is
worth the price of admission. “I can’t laugh too much or the stitches
might come out,” Pecora says. And “I haven’t slept for a week. When I
close my eyes, one of them gets stuck.” She’s so “renovated and
repaired,” her class mates don’t recognize her.
We’re not sure what’s real and what’s surreal. And that’s the fun of
this show. What holds all this frenetic montage together? Pecora’s
infectious energy that keeps you edgy with eagerness for more as she
exposes more and more of the absurd standards set for womanhood. I won’t
tell you the finale, but Liliana’s birthday cake celebration of turning
50 is accompanied by Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture, replete with cannons
firing and trumpet fanfare. Tchaikovsky composed the overture to
celebrate the rout of Napoleon. No, that’s wrong. Tchaikovsky must have
composed it for Liliana Pecora, who conquers her fears. |
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Sun Gazette |
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Mujeres de
50 |
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U.S. Premieres Abound in Hispanic Theater
Festival |
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by
Scott McCaffrey |
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If those clothes that fit just fine a few years back are too snug now,
actress Liliana Pécora knows where the fault lies: humidity. It makes
everything tougher to fit into, she says.
Pécora, an actor/director from Argentina, was on stage over the weekend
performing in “Mujeres de 50” [“Women of 50”], a one-woman,
eight-character show that looked at the impact of hitting the
half-century mark on a group of female high school classmates at their
33-year reunion.
Menopause, breast exams, judgmental gynecologists, younger boyfriends,
cheating husbands, ungrateful sons, Botox - nothing was off limits.
“Mujeres” was part of Teatro de la Luna's 10th annual International
Festival of Hispanic Theatre, running from Oct. 9 to Nov. 17 at Gunston
Arts Center in Arlington.
Troupes based in Venezuela, Uruguay, Argentina, Colombia, Ecuador, Spain
and the Dominican Republic are taking part in the annual festival. Most
of the productions are U.S. premieres.
The festival, which has been backed for years by the county government,
also has picked up the support of corporations (Continental Airlines
among them) and the Washington embassies of countries featured in the
festival.
It also has become a year-long project for Mario Marcel and Nucky Walder,
who run Teatro de la Luna.
“One might think we have time to rest and recoup” after each festival,
Marcel and Walder said. “But it's not like that. We began to dream as
the curtain closed on our last festival.”
The performances are in Spanish, with live English translation through
headsets at most productions. Most of those who attend the performances
tend to be native Spanish-speakers. |
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Susana Groisman presented her one-woman show for the Teatro de la Luna
Festival which dealt with the trials and tribulation of the famous
actress, Sarah Bernhardt. Miss Groisman, representing Uruguay, commanded
the stage like a seasoned actress but she used an "elocutionary style"
of acting (one could predict emotions by certain gestures and postures).
Therefore, one never got any introspection of the feelings and deep
emotions of this famous actress. There were some fascinating anecdotes
given by the playwright, Ariel Mastandrea, regarding the actress's
interaction with Freud, heads of states, etc. over the years. One would
hope that there would have been a better portrayal of Sarah after she
lost her leg. As usual, there was a simple set with only set pieces. But
the lighting by Eduardo Guerrero was excellent in showing passages of
time and situations. |
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Washington’s Liveliest Theatre Website
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Oh, Sarah! |
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by
Rosalind Lacy |
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What better way to transcend language barriers than to
present a one-woman play about Sarah Bernhardt. This famous 19th
century actress never spoke or reportedly never understood a word of
English but did ten extensive tours in America and charmed audiences
with her stage presence and sheer acting power.
Sarah Bernhardt was a legend. Larger than life. The
equivalent of a 20th century rock star with the talent of a
Katharine Hepburn, she created riots at backstage doors. She was a
tabloid headline-maker, an activist, whose off-stage gestures, hairstyle,
and style of dressing were imitated. A bundle of contradictions, she
reinvented herself offstage and on in memorable French melodramas, in
the role of Joan of Arc, and in Shakespearean roles, both male and
female, such as Ophelia and Hamlet.
Playing to a packed house on opening night, Oh, Sarah
by playwright Ariel Mastandrea, pays tribute to the down-to-earth
woman behind the legend and, at the same time, reminds us of the strong
ties between European theater, Uruguay and other Latin American
countries.
Mastandrea humanizes Bernhardt by taking us back to the
steamy streets of late-1800’s Paris, teeming with syphilis and
tuberculosis, when the risks for a woman who was born an illegitimate
child were great. “I could be either a whore or an actress. I chose the
theatre.” The child of a courtesan, Bernhardt became a courtesan herself
to royalty.
Uruguayan actress Susana Groisman, costumed in white, her
hair unruly, plays Bernhardt, as an embittered, sensitive soul who
searches for identity like a frenzied moth; who then heals herself
through her stage performances and her patriotic wartime efforts for
France during the Franco-Prussian War (1870-71) and W.W. I. Abandoned by
the great love of her life, the Belgian aristocrat who fathered her son,
Maurice, her only child, Bernhardt could have been playing her own life
on stage. And Groisman in her performance lets Bernhardt’s vulnerable
side come across as a disappointed but never embittered survivor.
Playwright Mastandrea doesn’t skip the madcap prankster
Bernhardt, known for making deliberately scandalous public comments:
“There is nothing closer to death than sex.” And “nighttime is the
better half of life,” indirect reasons for her purchase of the famous
coffin, lined with “black-satin and gold trim” that she slept in as a
bed for photographers. But the reasons for her leg amputation are not
really made clear, although Bernhardt talks about her phantom limb with
Sigmund Freud. She lost her leg in 1915 as a result of a fall on stage.
The injury became infected and gangrened.
Also, there’s Bernhardt’s desire for immortality that
magnetized her to the fledgling silent film industry starting up in the
early 1900s. No mention of Bernhardt, the pioneer who allowed some of
her performances to be preserved, not just in stills but in moving
pictures.
But let’s get back to what her biographers say that’s
mentioned in this monologue play. Bernhardt’s secret to portraying
infamous courtesans like Marguerite Gauthier, better known as Camille,
in Dumas’ La Dame aux Camelias, was her underplayed simplicity,
poetic pathos and directness in melodramatic roles, although the critics
made fun of her gestures and theatrical style. Bernhardt deliberately
shunned Ibsen, Strindberg, Chekhov, and naturalistic dramas. She wanted
a transcendental style on stage and off. Her style. She was both of her
time and out of her time.
Simultaneous English translation of the Spanish by
Marcela Ferlito through headsets is excellent and makes the text clear.
But you need to bring some knowledge of the actress’s life and impact on
theater history to fully appreciate this performance. |
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Washington’s Liveliest Theatre Website
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Del destierro, al encuentro con el alma,
el peregrinaje por la tierra, y...
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by
Rosalind Lacy |
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Venezuelan actor Victor Ovalles, as The Actor, walks toward us. Another
performer, Mildred Maury, as The Actress, is wrapped like a vine around
him. They are in a spot light of white light against the dark, sounds of
drums and exotic bird calls. He screams as the two, male and female,
pull away from each other. Or is that anguished cry coming from a
voiceover piped in behind us? No, the scream is from him. But The Actor
seems larger than life. What’s going on here? Just keep that opening
image in mind.
Clearly this is experimental theater of the highest order; the human
body used as moving poetry. From Banishment to Meeting with the Soul, a
Pilgrimage on Earth and…, a Group Creation, inspired by artistic
director Juan Carlos De Petre presented by the Altosf Theatre (The
Unknown Theatre), is Venezuela’s entry to Teatro De La Luna’s Tenth
International Hispanic Theater Festival.
This isn’t madness we’re seeing danced and enacted before us. Juan
Carlos De Petre has a method, called “The Unknown Theater,” or “Actor as
Creator,” we’re told in the program, worth reading in detail before the
performance. This is an exhilarating theatrical enactment that fuses
modern dance, pantomime and story telling without words, and even
reenacts iconic images from great paintings. No need for sur-titled
English translation
Admittedly, I was baffled at first but immediately drawn in by heavy
breathing sounds, syncopated drums, haunting flute melodies. Then for 50
minutes I felt suspended in a wind tunnel and was totally conquered.
We’re strangers in a surreal territory. What cannot be written can only
be danced.
The Actress is on the floor. The Actor stands, his legs apart. He
reaches down and pulls The Actress through his legs, as if she is
emerging from a birth canal into life. The Actor utters a wailing sound
in open vowels; The Actress croons, her voice an octave above. She
kneels, as if in prayer, then slithers onto The Actor’s back. Her arms
extended, fingers flexing like feathers, as a bird. The Actor, arms also
extended, soars like an eagle. Together they are flying, accompanied by
sounds of the wind. It’s an exquisite sequence that says so much about a
symbiotic relationship.
Then the lights change. Both fall screeching to the floor and yell
gibberish at each other. Is this a domestic quarrel? Or a struggle
within the self? It could be either. Both are separated. But when The
Actor, alone downstage right, extends his forefinger to The Actress,
upstage left, I was reminded of Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam,” on
the Sistine Chapel ceiling. God’s forefinger reaches out to touch Adam’s
hand to infuse him with life. In From Banishment to Meeting with the
Soul, the same hand gestures are recreated but with a variation. When
the performers touch fingers, they fall into a ballroom position. They
tango to wild music and fall to the floor. We’re watching the joy and
pain of creation danced out before us, especially in the highpoint
scenes that reenact the ritual of sowing and reaping, that must be noted
as a highpoint.
The Actress, dressed in a simple, pale-white dress, scatters seeds, (actually
lentils) from a rimmed, brown hat. The Actor follows and mimes planting.
The lights fade. When the lights come back up, he gathers the seeds in
harvest. Their singing in open-vowels seems joyous. Then comes harsh
lighting and audio changes. Red lights bleed over the performers. Sounds
of kettle drums, machine guns, and barked orders come from overhead. And
The Actress and The Actor simulate a machine-gun execution. As the Actor
moans on the floor, we’ve descended from order to chaos, from joy to
despair.
But the rituals repeat as the performers again rise to dance
athletically, sometimes with prayer-like gestures. Absolutely memorable
is the image of The Actor pouring grain seeds, like rain, from the hat
onto The Actress’ feet. The cycle of life repeats through the rituals
and ends where it begins. The Actor and The Actress are indeed symbiotic.
They cannot exist, one without the other.
The timing of lighting changes are perfectly synchronized. When one spot
fades and the lights come up again, we’re in another scene. Dramatic
impact is heightened by the highly effective lighting changes and
scenery designer Maria Egea’s chromatic blend of blue, pinks and cream
on the backdrop.
I’ve always been challenged by the entries that are performed in the
Teatro De La Luna’s International Festival and this year promises to be
no exception. I reemerge invigorated, renewed, as if I too have been on
a spiritual journey.
Past festivals have shown us how Latino theater performers through the
spoken word are preserving disappearing oral traditions, ancient myths,
facing extinction from confrontation with modern culture. Pantomime and
dance communicate universal themes. This 50-minute Venezuelan piece from
the Altosf Theatre, a troupe that has performed internationally and won
numerous performing awards, was over too quickly. That’s my only
complaint. But
look at what’s ahead. |
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AllArtsReview4U |
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Del destierro, al encuentro con el alma,
el peregrinaje por la tierra, y...
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by Bob Anthony |
Teatro de la Luna has opened its 10th Festival International de Teatro
Hispano (10/9-11/17) with a dazzling modern dance drama "Del destierro,
al encuentro con el alma, e peregrinaje por la tierra, y..." by the
Creacion Grupal of the Teatro Altosf from Venezuela that had the stilled
audience on the edge of their seats throughout. On a simple empty stage
blocked in by a back and two side scrims that had a colored planetary
spatial theme, two very lithe dancers (Victor Ovalles and Mildred Maury
L.) moved from floor spotlight to floor spotlight as they progressed
from procreation through troubled times and turmoil, including war, and
then through purgation to spiritual reawakening and rebuilding. The
modern dance movements by director Juan Carlos De Petre was brilliant
throughout... especially the war interlude which was helped by
threatening music (Jorge Salazar) and color design (Maria Egea). The two
dancers also added grunts, singing and echoic sounds and they created
vicious dialogue during the conflict scenes. It was 60 intermissionless
minutes of riveting stage work by all involved. |
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Washington Post |
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Del destierro, al encuentro con el alma,
el peregrinaje por la tierra, y...
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Pantomimists Come and Go, Not Talking of Michelangelo |
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by Celia Wren |
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Special to The Washington Post |
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Thursday, October 18, 2007; Page C05 |
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Echoes of Michelangelo reverberate through "Del Destierro, al Encuentro
con el Alma, el Peregrinaje por la Tierra, y . . ." ("From Banishment to
Meeting with the Soul, a Pilgrimage on Earth and . . . "), a nearly
wordless theatrical duet created by the Venezuelan company Teatro Altosf.
Treading a fine line between profundity and pretentiousness, this
choreographed drama broods on existential themes - in part through
images that recall the "Creation of Adam" fresco in the Sistine Chapel.
A male performer (Victor Ovalles) and a female one (Mildred Maury L.)
prowl and orbit over a nearly bare stage, sometimes clinging to each
other, sometimes separating -- and occasionally just letting their index
fingers connect or almost connect, like the human and deity in
Michelangelo's masterpiece. Meanwhile, solemn sounds play in the
background: eerie chants and drones, ominous percussion, with pregnant
silences and, briefly, a tantalizing snatch of tango. (Juan Carlos De
Petre, Teatro Altosf's founder, directs the show; the music is credited
to Jorge Salazar.)
It's highfalutin stuff, larded with artiness, and cynics might say it
made a rather bombastic opening act for the 10th International Festival
of Hispanic Theater. The festival, produced by Arlington's Teatro de la
Luna, continues through Nov. 17 at the Gunston Arts Center. On the other
hand, given a mere 45-minute running time, it's not hard to sit through
"Del Destierro," which has won prizes at two international festivals,
according to publicity materials.
And it can be sort of interesting to watch the archetypes volley by.
Sometimes the barefoot Ovalles and Maury -- he in worker's clothes, she
in a frilly white dress -- seem to be the prototypal Man and Woman,
struggling in the aftermath of a mythic fall from grace. At one point, a
toadstool-like object on the otherwise empty floor turns out to be a hat
full of lentils, which the performers scatter in rows across the floor,
as if sowing crops. In another sequence, the actors writhe on the ground
while thundering explosions and chiaroscuro lighting conjure a vision of
war.
At other times, the performers seem to represent a body and soul that
have been ripped apart and yearn to re-fuse. "Love, did you swear to
love me eternally?" Maury asks in one of the show's two lines of Spanish-language
dialogue. "Yes, eternally, eternally," Ovalles answers. This mystical
bond finds physical expression in carefully poised tableaux, as when
Ovalles makes a table of his back and Maury lies on top of it, her arms
outstretched, like Peter Pan zooming off to Neverland. The production's
dappled, blue-and-yellow canvas backdrops heighten the suggestion of
creatures wandering through a lonely universe.
Audiences who missed this theology-tinged pantomime will have the option
of lighter fare for the rest of the festival. (Whew!) The next few
weekends bring several comedies, including the Uruguayan play "Oh,
Sarah!" about Sarah Bernhardt; the Argentine satire "Mujeres de 50"
("Women of 50"); and "Tres" ("Three"), a comedy from Ecuador. Compared
with the Delphic philosophizing of "Del Destierro," those shows will
surely be refreshingly down-to-earth. Even the Sistine Chapel has its
limitations.
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© 2007 The Washington Post
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Shows
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Week 1 |
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Venezuela |
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Thursday 10/11 (8PM) |
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Friday
10/12 (8PM) |
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Saturday
10/13 (3PM) |
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Saturday
10/13 (8PM) |
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Week 2 |
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Uruguay |
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Thursday 10/18 (8PM) |
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Friday 10/19 (8PM) |
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Saturday 10/20 (3PM) |
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Saturday 10/20 (8PM) |
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Week 3 |
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Argentina |
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Thursday 10/25 (8PM) |
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Friday 10/26 (8PM)
(SOLD OUT) |
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Colombia |
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Saturday 10/27 (11:30AM) |
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Argentina |
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Saturday 10/27 (3PM) |
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Saturday 10/27 (8PM)
(SOLD OUT) |
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Week 4 |
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Ecuador |
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Thursday 11/1 (8PM) |
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Friday 11/2 (8PM) |
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Colombia |
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Saturday 11/3 (11:30AM) |
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Ecuador |
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Saturday 11/3 (3PM) |
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Saturday 11/3 (8PM) |
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Week 5 |
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Spain |
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Thursday 11/8 (8PM) |
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Friday 11/9 (8PM) |
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Saturday 11/10 (3PM) |
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Saturday 11/10 (8PM)
(SOLD OUT) |
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Week 6 |
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Puerto Rico / |
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Dominican Republic |
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Thursday 11/15 (8PM)
(SOLD OUT) |
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Friday 11/16 (8PM)
(SOLD OUT) |
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Saturday 11/17 (3PM) |
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Saturday 11/17 (8PM)
(SOLD OUT) |
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Our visiting troupes
travel by
Continental Airlines |
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