Guggenheim Entertainment
October 19, 2019
Claudia (Amy Bouchard), Luisa (Susan Gundunas), Stephen Guggenheim (Guido) and Carla (Becky Elizabeth Stout). |
I've got a few bones to pick with the work, however, and since it's based on Fellini's film, 8 1/2, I suppose I'm arguing with Fellini himself. I hate that stories revolving around creative artists always focus on creative block, as if that's the only struggle facing an artist. Then, of course, there's the great challenges of becoming a great success. (Give ME some of those problems!) Thirdly, the story doesn't really illuminate the creative process; we're supposed to just accept that the central figure, filmmaker Guido Contini, is a genius without any real proof. (For an excellent recent example of showing the creative process, see the film Bohemian Rhapsody.)
Bone-picking aside, the musical works, because it portrays some intriguing relationships illustrated by a fascinating cast of players. Stephen Guggenheim is perfect as Contini, providing a calm, bemused eye to a hurricane of his own making. His resounding baritone lends the famed director a commanding presence, and plays well with the score's regular dips into classical tropes; Contini's film about Casanova even employs classical recitative. The only downside to Guggenheim's voice comes in the rapid-fire lines of "I Can't Make This Movie," when all that power obscures some of the fast-flying words.
Contini's greatest flaw is his constant philandering. It is also, paradoxically, his greatest skill, in that he can make every woman in the world feel that she is the only woman in the world. The company succeeds in supplying a number of intriguing females to fall for him. Elizabeth Palmer plays Lillian LaFleur, a cranky producer who suddenly turns into a cabaret hostess in the hallucinatory "Folies Bergeres" scene. Katherine Stein plays Stephanie, a film critic who sings of many Contini's many flaws in a lightning-fast patter. (It is one of Contini's many charms that he finds these insults rather entertaining.) Heather Faulhaber projects a warm wisdom as Our Lady of the Spa, playing tour guide to Contini's psyche as he tries to relax at her retreat. The ensemble number "The Germans at the Spa" is just plain hilarious.
Susan Gundunas plays Contini's wife Luisa with a quiet calm that only accentuates the pain beneath. This is most touching in "My Husband Makes Movies," a desperate attempt to explain Contini (and perhaps her reasons for putting up with him) to the press. Her restraint is maintained for so long that her eventual blowup, "Be On Your Own," is well-deserved and a great relief. (Also, a good piece of advice.)
Becky Elizabeth Stout plays Contini's mistress Carla with mile-long legs and a joyous sexuality. In "A Call From the Vatican," she wraps herself around the filmmaker in various gymnastic poses as she tries to lure him to her hotel room. Her final song, "Simple," gives the character added dimension and a depth of intelligence. Amy Bouchard gives Contini's favorite actress, Claudia, a determined coolness, not happy to play more of his fantastical spirits, and dedicated to her art in a way that Contini is forced to respect.
Krista Wigle plays Saraghina, the prostitute who teaches nine-year-old Guido the ways of love. Her answer is "Be Italian," an infectious tune that Wigle delivers with a remarkable radiance. Young Guido completes that circle years later by telling his older self to grow up in "Be Tall," delivered with a touching sincerity by Elijah Seid-Valenca.
Set with Julie Engelbrecht's simple, elegant backgrounds and costumes, the production is really not much more than interactions, but of course it's the magic of theater that sometimes that's all you need. Sound designer Jon Leyden and orchestrator Tom Tomasella did a fantastic job of delivering the music. Finally, kudos to the company for taking on such a challenging, provocative piece.
Through Nov. 10, 3Below Theaters, 288 S. 2nd St., San Jose. 408/404-7711. 3belowtheaters.com
Michael J. Vaughn is the author of 22 novels, most recently A Painting Called Sylvia.
No comments:
Post a Comment