THE MOJO AND THE SAYSO

THEATER OPINION

The Mojo and the Sayso
by Aishah Rahman
Directed by Valerie Curtis-Newton
ACT Theater
September 2, 2007 (preview)

Thanks to a free ticket provided by Seattle Dramatists, I attended a preview of The Mojo and the Sayso by Aisha Rahman at ACT over the weekend. The play opens on September 6, and the director, Valerie Curtis-Newton, asked the audience before the show to "work," and give the actors the responses they needed to fine-tune their performances. Theater's most powerful aspect is that interplay between performers and audience members, and it was nice to be reminded that we are an integral part of the creative process.

Embarrassingly, I had never heard of playwright Aisha Rahman before seeing this play, and a quick bit of research indicates that she has not written a play since 1993. I was instantly intrigued by what the Director's Note described as Rahman's "jazz aesthetic," a literary style influenced by the free form, ensemble oriented musical style. Defying a traditional dramatic structure, would this play still bring the audience along on a journey?

Yes, and no.

Immediately impressing is the set at the center of the Allen Stage (in the round), dominated by a Cadillac under repair or renovation. We soon realize that this is the living room of ACTS (Lindsay Smiling) and AWILDA (Tracy Michelle Hughes), a space co-opted by the former as a mechanic's garage. Acts' Tire irons, spark plugs, hub caps and other automobile parts and tools litter the floor, but are mixed in with Awilda's candles, Bibles, and picture frames. The drama unfolds in this cramped space, usually remaining firmly in the realistic present, but routinely interrupted by stop-time prayers, flashbacks, and even a fantastic episode of absurdity.

Acts and Awilda have been at odds with each other ever since the death of their youngest son four years prior. As the story unfolds, we realize that the son was mistakenly killed by police officers, shot in the back as he fled. Acts was present at the time of the shooting, but has never said anything about it other than, "Our son is dead." The rest of the play is basically about Awilda (and later, their eldest son "Blood") trying to get Acts to talk about "that night." This doesn't make for an especially compelling conflict, however, and the resolution that eventually comes is satisfying and, yes, earned, but seemingly weaker than I expected from such tragic circumstances.

That being said, the production really worked for me. I was engaged throughout, laughing out loud often, and even getting teary-eyed at a few key moments. There were many pleasant surprises, and although the ending was telegraphed early on, I found the final image to be quite poignant. Driving the story in a powerful performance is Lindsay Smiling as Acts. Though this was only the second preview, his performance was rich, nuanced, and compelling. His fear, anger, bravery, and frustration had different shades to them, and his complicated relationship with his son BLOOD(Jose A. Rufino) was real and touching. Rufino, currently enrolled at the University of Washington's Professional Actors Training Program, moved with a powerful and expressive physicality. Tracy Michelle Hughes as Awilda first came across as strident and a bit one-dimensional at first, but she seemed to hit her stride as she delivered a beautiful, subtly condemning monologue on the monetary cost of losing a son. I am confident that Ms. Hughes will find the nuances in her character at the very beginning, because we need to see why Acts chooses to stay with her and dream about her all this time. Rounding out the ensemble is Timothy McCuen Piggee in a brief, show-stopping performance as PASTOR. This man basically slips in, explodes with fury and accusation, transforms with surprise and hilarity, and exits like a hurricane.

I would not describe The Mojo and the Sayso as a straight drama because it has so many unexpected elements, and the time seems to shift constantly. We could be watching a story that plays out over one day, or it could be played out over several months or years. For the most part, these elements all work beautifully together. However, I felt that the emotional high-point was Blood's final confrontation with Pastor, though it is clearly meant to be Acts' confession at the end. Regardless, I still found the simple closing image, of a contented family out for a drive, satisfying. Some other issues, most notably the actors comfort with some of the unexpectedly formal language, will surely be worked out in the next few days. My hope is that Seattle turns out for this play, and becomes as intrigued as I have become by the Hansberry Project at ACT, playwright Aisha Rahman, and her "jazz aesthetic."

GRADE: B

AT HOME AT THE END OF THE WORLD

BOOK OPINION

At Home at the End of the World
by Michael Cunningham
Picador, 1990

Everyone knows that the book is always better than the film, with the prominent exception being Francis Ford Coppola's film adaptations of Mario Puzo's novel, The Godfather. (Nevermind the ill-conceived finale, Part III.) Authors have ample pages for, and readers necessary patience about, exploring their characters in depth. Two readers can read the same book and come away with distinct impressions of the characters' looks, personalities, strengths and short-comings. When confronted with these characters on film, the result of choices made by a writer, actor, director and editor, they never match our own (superior) ideas. As expected, reading Michael Cunningham's first novel, At Home at the End of the World, before seeing the film adaptation made for a much more satisfying encounter.

In the book, the focus of the story is on Jonathan and Bobby, with what I interpreted as a little more emphasis on Jonathan. Clare and Alice remain critical characters in the story, but even they realize that they are but supporting characters in the lives of the two men. Theirs is a love story, albeit one that defies easy definition. The story of their lives is related by first-person narratives from Jonathan, Bobby, Clare and Jonathan's mother Alice. A key fifth player in the book is Erich, the major lover (and de factor boyfriend) in Jonathan's life. Though he does not get his own first-person narrative, he is the catalyst for much of Jonathan's development. His absence from the film is a major flaw, as I will explain later.

The central conflict in the book is the ability of Bobby and disability of Jonathan to completely embrace their own lives. Bobby, deprived of his blood family at such a young age, and lacking much of a motivational force throughout most of his life, evolves as a chameleon, able to adapt and thrive in his own way in suburban Cleveland, bohemian Greenwich Village, and rural upstate New York. Like a hermit crab, Bobby follows Jonathan and occupies spaces he leaves behind. He is most content smoking up and listening to records, and it really doesn't matter when and where he does it. Jonathan, on the other hand, is constantly dissatisfied. His intact family stifles him, his lovers disinterest him, his work does not reward him, and he views his love for Clare as maddeningly incomplete. When Bobby moves to New York, he and Jonathan and Clare ease into a practical three-way relationship that ends up driving as many wedges between them as bonds. In the end, Jonathan finally experiences the feeling of contentment, of living for today, for the moment, that has eluded him for so long, and he earns that by finally thinking of someone else before himself. It is a lesson that Bobby, in his benign and child-like way, had learned years ago and continued to embrace.

Cunningham skillfully develops his characters over thirty years of life, and he seems to savor their faults more than their strengths. Jonathan and Clare have a deep cynicism that gets a bit tiresome, as does their inexplicable desire to change their circumstances. By contrast, Bobby seems to lack any negative energy whatsoever. Perhaps these characterizations are meant to underscore their inter-dependence and incompleteness as individuals, but it makes it difficult to empathize with persons that are emotionally shallow.

The resolution works in the sense that the people that are meant to be together end up together. At the same time, its ending seems to undermine the alternative, three-way love story that dominates the book. There is an implied understanding, even celebration, of those that abandon their loved ones and responsibilities without any more explanation than a gut feeling. Cunningham addresses this notion, with different choices and impacts, more succinctly in his 2002 Pulitzer Prizer winner, The Hours. In both books, however, characters choose to abandon lives that are not truly their own, to reject societal roles that are basically forced upon them. Missing in these stories is the recognition that an individual's life is the result of his or her own choices, and the calculus for deciding must change when others' lives become intricately involved.

GRADE: B

ONCE

FILM OPINION

Once (2006)
Written and Directed by John Carney
Starring: Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova

This Irish indie music film has been making bigger and bigger waves recently. Made for $150,000, Once has grossed over $6 million in limited U.S. release, and has been picked up for wider distribution. Though this film has been playing at the Harvard Exit for weeks, I stayed away because I figured a film with such a lame title was going to be lame itself. Shallow, I know, but perhaps not as shallow as letting myself get talked into seeing based on some hyperbolic comments from film critics. So, I finally went.

Set in a Dublin that the creators admit is more scruffy ten years ago than hyper-modern present, the story centers around a street musician, Guy (Glen Hansard), and a flower vendor, Girl (Marketa Irglova). Guy and guitar perform Van Morrison covers by day and original compositions by night. He catches the ear of Girl, who asks pushy questions about heartbreak and forces a promise to fix her broken vacuum cleaner. She is a musician too, playing piano and composing in a music store operated by a generous owner. Before long, Guy and Girl spend more time together, meet each other's families, compose music, dream big, and start to fall in love. Or do they?

The second most pleasant surprise of this seemingly straight forward film is how it approaches but ultimately sidesteps cliches that define American romantic comedies. Hansard and Irglova share an awkward chemistry, something I initially considered a fault (due to on-camera inexperience?) but realized is actually rooted in the characters' relationship. Guy is most at ease when singing and playing, decidedly more uptight when speaking. Girl is pushy and a bit cold when speaking, open and vulnerable when singing. It makes sense that these two connect primarily through the music they create. It also gives the ending a logical, touching conclusion.

That leads us to the first most pleasant surprise of the film: the music is good. Guy is Irish, Girl is Czech, and they fuse British, American, and Eastern European influences in the music they create. Best of all, almost all the songs are performed live and on film, giving them a rougher, truer feel and sounds. Their voices crack sometimes, the harmonies don't always ring, a note is misplayed here and there, but it works. Thankfully, there is only one montage set to music; most of the time, the camera focuses on the performers and just lets them do their thing. I enjoyed the music so much that I bought the soundtrack in the Harvard Exit lobby, and I wasn't the only one.

Though this is definitely a music film, my favorite scene is driven by dialogue, and it doesn't involve the romantic leads. It is the final scene between Guy and his father (Bill Hodnett), a crusty Hoover repairman who doesn't seem to embrace his son's music aspirations. In three minutes, Hansard and Hodnett capture the pathos of a father and son truly seeing each other, and their respective offers of self-sacrifice are touching, and the scene is beautifully underplayed.

The film is not perfect, however. There are some plot points that seem a bit forced, and some obvious attempts to make the pair appear wacky. Also, it is always tricky to tell a story about a supposedly genius artist, and then show the work that is supposedly out of this world. The music is good, even very good, but it isn't great, at least not so much that everyone that listens to it (including the sound engineer) is immediately convinced it is going to be a huge success. There is some shaky camera work too, and that lovely ending is a little cheesy and unlikely if you think about it too much. These are all minor complaints, as I recommend the film overall.

Once is rated R for some reason, probably because of some bong smoking. Already successful in limited release, I predict that it will find even greater success in wide release, and become a sleeper hit. I wouldn't be surprised if one of the songs is nominated for an Oscar, especially because the music is far better than any Aerosmith or Randy Newman song written for film.

GRADE: B+