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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 17, 2007)
3i ■ juStpUt AUGUST 17. 2007 Wn.Trl wond beat MUSIC MILLENNIUM Soul Rock Women’s Okies jazz Folk Gospel Cajun Country New Age Bluegrass Soundtracks Musicals Lounge Big Band Comedy Reggae Spoken Word and more... EAST PORTLAND ¥32nd & E Burnside St. ¥ 231-8926 ® MILLENNIUM NW PORTLAND ¥23rd & NW Johnson ¥ 248-0163 ■ Job Hotline: 503-988-5035 TTY: 503-988-5170 an equal opportunity employer www.multcojobs.org in any of our stores and get a free DVD. PORTLAND EXPO CTR TABOO TOY PAR ”+ lA0^ Sept. 12 BRING YOUR FRIENDS w. Taboo toy party and Heaven's Clo: fashion show at ACE of Hearts. 3533 SE 39th Ave. Portland Taboo Vancouver 82nd Ave. Taboo 4811 NE 94th Ave. Vancouver WA (360)254-1126 2330 SE 82nd Ave. Portland OR (503)777 6033 stores theater Curtain Call Queer stage report from London and New York City by Jon Kretzu uring the past six months I have made two trips each to London and New York City to catch up on the 2007 theater/music seasons, and the results were a hit dispirit ing. True, there were some remarkable moments and some brilliant performances, but in general the work this season has been marked by complacency, giving old formulas glittering facelifts and overinflated praise by the press and public alike. And all of it at ever-increasing, fundamentally ridiculous prices. Most of the work 1 saw in London this season was almost worth rhe inflated price. Actress Fiona Shaw and director Deborah Warner, one of the theater world’s most respected collaborative teams, created a production for the Royal National Theatre of Samuel Beckett’s Happy Days that had the lacerating intensity of a comic nightmare. It will be hard to shake off the memory of Shaw’s face—one moment shining with joyous affirma lan McKellan starred in an overblown, tion, the next a grimacing, howling death’s head— shamelessly theatrical version of King Lear. set against a vast expanse of collapsed rubble. Together, Shaw and Warner made Beckett’s total odds with the arid, passionless, internally des- - despairing aria of hope into unforgettable music. iccated analyst); and John Napier has distorted his Nearby at the poshly renovated English National original rough magic design into something resem Opera, Warner was also responsible for a visionary bling a cross between a W Hotel lobby and a Greek new production of Benjamin Britten’s finaLmaster- bathhouse. Of course, commercially none of this piece, Death in Venice. This operatic adaptation of matters, as the show completely sold out its London Thomas Mann’s classic novella became a shimmer- run and no doubt will easily sell out its upcoming ing dreamscape in Warner’s hands, and abetted by transfer to Broadway next spring. Tom Pye’s shifting designs of light and shadow and By far the most shining light on the West the incredible lan Bostridge’s quietly devastating remains Stephen Daldry’s production of the new account of the beauty-obsessed protagonist, it was musical Billy Elliot. The show had its premiere two a most memorable evening. years ago (and finally reaches Broadway next sea Less memorable was the inexplicably successful son) and is hands down the most exhilarating new West End revival of Cabaret. Director Rufus Norris British musical I’ve seen since Les Miserables. loaded his Weimar-chic production with loads of Based on Daldry’s heartwarming 2000 film, Billy full-frontal male and female nudity, bisexuality, Elliot tells the sweet tale of a young boy growing up porn-shop gymnastics and S/M costuming—and in the harsh world of a Northeast England mining yet it all added up to a dull, inert evening that town who dreams of escaping the stifling surround could not hope to erase the memory of Sam ings and becoming a ballet dancer. Set against the Mendes’ haunting revival of a few seasons ago. The biggest news on the West End front was, of course, the appearance of little Harry Potter, 1 mean Daniel Radcliffe, in a much-heralded revival of Peter Shaffer’s Equus. The good news was that Master Radcliffe gave an accomplished, hon est performance in what was a courageous choice for his onstage debut. After all the media furor surrounding his appearance in a series of explicit press photos for the show (which resembled gay porn as shot by Walt Disney) and prurient jokes about his extended nude scene (yes, Harry Porter was nude, and yes, he has all the proper accouter ments), what was most effective about Radcliffe’s work was his focus, intensity and vulnerability. The image I will take away from the show is his wide- eyed, somewhat shocked expression at the uproar greeting his curtain call—the look of a 17-year-old boy thrust before a clamoring mob. Unfortunately, the production surrounding Radcliffe is anything but definitive. Hot director of the moment Thea Sharrock has found nothing new to say about Shaffer’s somewhat dated script outside of adding a lot of dry ice; the marvelous Richard Griffiths is totally miscast as the tormented David Hyde Pierce earned a Tony Award for Dr. Dysart (his life force passion and bonhomie at Kander and Ebb's swan song. Curtains. D
