Kristen Morale - Page 11

As taken from the song "I Bring Light," one of the first achieved moments of individual triumph and beauty for the story's protagonist is captured through the powerful words of a character who has always understand the potential greatness of being "free." A young rebel by the name of Prometheus takes his ardent desire to liberate himself from the darkness which has descended upon his people by means of an oppressive and soul crushing State, and becomes the hero of this fantastic new musical that tackles an old yet thought provoking concept. Can it be possible for one person to change the world - to have it "born anew" - by showing how important the individual is in the midst of complete tyranny? Ayn Rand's Anthem is hereby taken and transformed into a production that emphasizes the influence of one young soul and his ambition to show that there really isn't any "I" in team after all; this, my friends, is The Anthem.

It would be wise to call this as a great piece of theater, yet there is so much more to say about Bill Holland's Hounds of War, it would be a shame to simply refer to this wonderful play as just another show to go and see on a Saturday night. Upon seeing a show, being part of an audience that has witnessed a given story from beginning to end, there are certain ones that a person knows are special - ones that, when actor and script meet, you know will be something special. Holland has created something more than a simple plot with a beginning, middle and end, relinquished from the minds of those who saw within a few days of their attendance. His genius in writing this play has created something much more lasting - a theatrical experience, really, that not only captures the attention of the audience, but is also able to delve deep inside the minds of each character and so intricately and carefully dissect each part of his or her mind so that no idea, no feeling or emotion goes unnoticed. The characters seen upon the stage at the Dorothy Strelsin Theatre turn into actual people, and combined with the psychological complexity of the plot, form a production that is incredibly unique and admirable to all playwrights ever hoping to write the next great story.

Is there something in this world that holds us back from our potential, from our lives, without ever allowing us to grow and move forward? Can there exist a secret that not only becomes one's responsibility to hide from the world, but actually becomes the person, shaping the existence of those forced to conceal from the world a vicious act not of their own doing? Through no fault of their own do brother and sister become marred by the unhappiness of their parents before them, unfortunate souls who bore witness to a tragedy whose consequences remained long after such a vicious deed was done. In the present day (whenever that may happen to be), brother and sister must "live" within the contour constructed around their lives, inhibiting them from experiencing anything more than a sub-human existence - all created as a result of their parents' lack of will to live in the world unhappy. From the past does the audience bear witness to this continuous, never-ending cycle that has already transformed the unfortunate Felice and Claire into things no greater than the "people," as Felice takes great risk in calling them, for whom they perform on this given night. Tennessee Williams' 'The Two-Character Play' is nothing short of an experience, and really gives an audience quite a bit to think about.

Sartre's No Exit is exactly about that: people who were once masters of their own universe now being forced to see the lives they once lived through the eyes of other people - strangers to boot - and discover that those same lives they led while alive have accompanied them into the depth of Hell. It really isn't so bad in this place that, as Cradeau Garcin makes clear towards the play's start, is meant to have devices of torture around every turn and the torturer ready and relentless in his quest to make the dead suffer. What is so ironic here, though, is that the ability to see themselves for what they really are - essentially now being on the outside looking in - makes each character less human than how he or she was when first walking through the doors of the room eternity will be spent in. Introducing humanity into the lives of people who were without it for their entire existence actually makes Cradeau, Inez and Estelle worse because of the chunk of confidence reflecting on their own lives that disappears as they do so. In a way, having eternity to ponder why each will forever be in Hell is absolutely great as juxtaposed to a lifetime of fire, torture and pain. Why is it, then, that having nothing but their own lives to think about their lives that have ended in one sense and were never really disrupted in another makes for such an exciting and thought provoking play? Honestly, people are forced to face their own humanity, and it applies to every person who goes to see this production of No Exit by the Pearl Theatre Company.

What a soothing, kind feeling the name of Liliom would bring to whoever hears such a name; surely the person who possesses it would not damn its beauty to the means of a harsh and indignant life. Alas, such a man who bears this name is apparently nothing more than a brute - a man whose soul is marred by his inability to express his true feelings because of the hubris ever-present in his heart. Yet, what authors, poets and the like have been telling their audiences for years on end is this brute of a man is not the monster he is depicted as. Beneath the exterior is a tortured being whose inner beauty is just as present as the fierceness from which he comes to define himself as a human being; unfortunately, though, it is not as prevalent and is thought not to exist at all. This tormented soul, hidden behind the appearance and demeanor of a fierce, angry man, is always so appealing because of its trials and tribulations; it is a person who is simultaneously allowed to live and be held back to the point of becoming a person that is hardly recognizable to the self. It is with this concept in mind that Beautiful Soup presents this gorgeous production of Liliom, a tale of one woman's undying love for a seemingly undeserving and hideous man whose reconciliation comes as a result of his wife's irrational yet beautifully inspiring sense of hope in the man that, beneath the rough and domineering exterior of the carousel barker, exists in the form of the gentle, loving Liliom who abandoned the man he was for the sake of loving, and being loved in return.

There is very little to say about this show, and unless that one sentence makes up the command of "GO AND SEE IT FOR THE LIFE OF YOU," I have no part in this whatsoever. If you want to enjoy a night of fun, rueful delight and exhausting laughter that makes you feel good in all the wrong places, Sex Tips for a Straight Woman from a Gay Man is the show that will satisfy your whims and yearnings for what is sure to be a pleasurable and stimulating experience for people of either gender or orientation (unfortunately, there is an appropriate age minimum here). So grab a drink, put it down and replace it with a program (you'll get that later on) and let the power of this show know your socks off…and whatever else might happen to leave you as Dan Anderson explains the basic rules of having a great sexual relationship.

Parents do not have to be told to provide unconditional love and care to the children they bring into this world, nor do they have to be reminded of the treasure they covet when these children bring mostly joy and laughter into a home that once belonged only to them. Even though much of their lifestyle has been drastically changed because of these treasures, as all attention and responsibility is now directed at their well-being, this love cannot be disputed as something other than beautiful. Now, does the same hold true when a child is not one's own? After seeing the opening night performance of The Sun Shines East at the Marjorie S. Deane Little Theatre, there is little doubt as to this holding true, and the struggle of one couple to adopt a baby, to whom they have already given their undying love and affection upon first holding her, makes for a beautiful, heartfelt story that deems the presence of children in our lives that much more precious.

What do you get when an engaged couple on the brink of getting married runs out of money to accommodate its extravagant wedding plans, and to fix this problem decides to sell cocaine to an addict in a sleazy hotel room? Wait, that's not all. The addict then inexplicably kills himself and leaves behind a mess that has far more dire consequences than the choice to sell cocaine to fund a wedding that wouldn't be complete without the blessed ice sculptures. Obviously, this is an easy one, as not many plots are this exhilarating. You get Panic at the Riverside Motel, a comedic drama that is currently gracing the stage at the Stage IV Theatre and making audiences laugh and squirm uncomfortably at the same time.

When a person is faced with the overwhelming beauty and quietude of the world around him, as seen through the crisp leaves of the surrounding trees or the rocks which reside on the steep slope below, leading into an unknown and unsought after abyss, one cannot help but look up at the stars and think about life - a free mind allowed to romp after abandoned dreams, or perhaps desires that have yet to be fulfilled. Without a need to say anything at all, a person relapses into himself, only deciding later on what is to be done in this game called "life." It is a moment in time that does not constitute the mundane and typical functioning of life. It is, indeed, an escape. Peter, the catalyst that brings about necessary change in Jake Jeppson's new play The Clearing, captures this feeling quite well in his statement towards the play's end: "There is no heaven. At least not yet. There's just this space where you wait for God to tell you what to do." This space simultaneously limits and liberates a person's ability to not simply live, but thrive - to do more than simply survive, yet live complaisantly until that change appears to make it better. The irony of the great outdoors and the psychologically trapped brothers who return, year after year, to this clearing as an almost essential asset of their absolute beings, makes for nothing less than a stunning and incredibly fascinating play.

When a person goes to see a performance, there are some instances in which he or she wishes that the characters portrayed on stage were real - that the plot was truly unfolding right before the audience's collective eye, and the circumstances which constitute the story being told would allow for more than simply a reaction. What occurs actually begins to engage the audience, compelling those watching to do more than simply go along for the ride, or join the epic adventure on which so-and-so is about to embark - an adventure through the jungles of a new land, or perhaps that towards self-discovery. In such cases, certain feelings are stirred: feelings that make someone want to stand up and engage in the world unfolding upon that stage; feelings that truly make a person want to walk on stage and join these characters in their trials and tribulations. Well, having learned of Rospo's epic story after a performance of Columbia: The Life and Death of Rospo D. Oro, it would be perfectly inhuman not to want this young man to succeed on his journey to do what was unprecedented - to live before his time amongst those who believe in nothing but what tradition dictates; it would also be just downright sad to not wish to bear witnesses to this admirable, heartwarming tale again and again.

What fun are the action filled battle scenes with their epic swashbuckling and wonderfully choreographed crew of strong men making their way across the stage to proudly proclaim their identities as pirates; with what grace do the dainty young ladies flit about and admire those same pirates who come and take them away with promises of marriage, almost too fantastical a concept to ever really work. How wonderful it is to watch two lovers remain together through the difficulties of a leap year birthday. Simply put, the New York Gilbert and Sullivan Players' production of the infamous The Pirates of Penzance is one of the most remarkable shows a theatergoer will see before the near year rolls in.

What happens when you mix the atmosphere and originality of a Blue Man Group performance with the dynamics of a recent Sarah Brightman concert, giving Zooey Deschanel (the 500 Days of Summer version) a chance at lead vocals to top it all off? A little show called Mayhem and Majesty fits the bill quite well, and with its exhibition of different styles, sounds and talents does this show encapsulate a little bit of everything mentioned above, and then some. As the most recent show to grace the stage at 59E59 Theaters on Manhattan's Upper East Side, Mayhem and Majesty is an eclectic mix of styles, sounds and talents that, when combined, cannot do anything but amaze those who bear witness to one of the most unique shows New York has ever seen. Essentially, audiences watch as this assortment of "stuff," seemingly random at first, is magnificently transformed into a show that creators Jackie Dempsey and Steve O'Hearn should be very proud of indeed.

Well, it's quite a relief to know that even after an earth shattering tragedy reduces the world to a mere (yet nevertheless functioning) shell of what it once was, the R train is still running. Not only does it continue to run, it now comes to serve as the setting of this post- apocalyptic play which provides as many discussions, controversies and philosophical arguments as there are stops on the route of this local train.

Just in time to witness the end of Thanksgiving and joyfully move on towards a celebration of the Christmas season, the incredibly talented cast of "Miracle on 34th Street, the Musical" (also known as "Here's Love") brings Meredith Wilson's rarely staged musical to life with its jubilant presence, proclaiming that it is time at last for Santa to make his much anticipated appearance - this time in Bay Ridge.

There isn't much that can be said or done in a minute - neither accomplished nor expressed in so short a time, especially in an era where the significance of each tick of the second hand is only in anticipation of the next moment, not having much importance in itself.