the nashville theatre lost and found
you must see this show. And if you want to see what all theatre should aspire to be, YOU MUST SEE THIS SHOW.
Do I have your attention? Good. Because my effusive praise for The Other Me Theatre Company and their production of LIGHT SENSITIVE is well deserved. I was privileged to see its premiere this August at Encore Theatre. Sadly, I didn’t make it until the end of the run, so I didn’t get to tell everyone that they MUST SEE THIS SHOW (I’ll keep saying it until you buy your ticket!). Luckily for all of us – except for the box office at Encore (sorry!) – the show is being revived for another run at Murfreesboro Little Theatre. See dates and times in the links provided above and below, and be sure to call for reservations. Be there. I mean this sincerely. You will not be disappointed.
LIGHT SENSITIVE is funny and touching and surprising and a bit painful and above all, riveting. Not because of any elaborate staging or thrilling subplots or effects – this play is powerful in its simplicity, and powerful because of its simplicity. The plot itself is easy on the brain, but what happens speaks volumes about the human condition in ways the audience can’t expect – and therefore can’t guard against. For we all are almost always on our guard, you know. The dark anonymity of a theatre is one of the few places we allow our guards to slip just a bit (perhaps).
The three characters that pass through the unkempt flat in Hell’s Kitchen are similarly on their guard. Each has some sort of handicap, be it physical, social, emotional, etc., but they all have what I might call a “circumstantial” handicap. Their pasts have trained them to lead “lives of quiet desperation,” and they have lived this way so long that they are almost comfortable with their dissatisfaction. Indeed, what they guard themselves against is change. They may not like their lives very much, but at least they don’t get hurt. (Sounds unpleasantly familiar, doesn’t it?)
Several transformations occur when these three lost people are brought together. But these transformations aren’t of the cinematic variety, where the music swells, the light glints in an eye misted with joy, and suddenly the sun bursts forth and banishes the gloomy clouds, etc. ad nauseum. No – change just happens. There was no one “aha” moment that altered the characters; there were so many subtle moments that accumulated - and not all in a forward direction. The subtle moments seem so insignificant, and yet by the end, each of the characters is transformed as much as the stage is during the intermission.
LIGHT SENSITIVE stars the three founders of The Other Me: Bowd Beal, Anastasia Zavaro, and Todd Seage. This is truly a team to watch. The honesty with which they portray these very real people is what captivates the audience, and slowly begins to chip a wee hole into our protective coverings as we watch. The external and internal handicaps are obvious but not overplayed. Their banter was extremely natural – including long silences that many other productions might eschew. The characters they created are quirky, fault-riddled, and sometimes uncouth – but they are real and we love them and root for them as if we’ve known them for years. For we have. They are us.
TRUDY’S TRUTH IN THEATRE:
In this case, I can find no truth more profound than the play itself. It is the truth. This is the way life happens. When you come to see this production, you will not be watching a play. You will be a voyeur in reality. And you will be a different person when you leave.
NTLAF site hits since 04 July 2007
featured review
Martin Brady, The Nashville Scene
MARTIN BRADY
of The Nashville Scene
An Interview with Jaz Dorsey
JAZ: WHAT ROLE DID THEATRE AND THE ARTS PLAY IN YOUR CHILDHOOD / UPBRINGING?
MARTIN: A great deal. A look at my father's Wikipedia entry says volumes about the world I grew up in. Due to the logistical considerations of a large family, I sat in on many a theatrical rehearsal when I was young, watching my father work. (That was probably an unintentional substitute for a babysitter!) I was introduced to plays, playwrights, actors, directors, designers and techies at an early age, and my first real jobs were at Maryland's Olney Theatre, pulling backstage wagons and working box office. At the age of 17, after performing in two high school plays, I took to the professional stage in a small speaking role in a religious thriller called CHILD'S PLAY and actually received a modest weekly wage for that. (My father was my director, so the nepotism card was played.) Needless to say, reading theater reviews was a part of the culture of my home life, and so was listening to Broadway show albums, which I think subliminally taught me a lot about the structure and craft of truly great songwriting. I suppose I'm a pop music/Beatles-type kid at heart, but show music infused my soul and has always informed my sense of humor. My stereo had British pop and Todd Rundgren coming out of it, but my parents' had PROMISES, PROMISES, JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR, COMPANY, and A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC coming out of theirs, not to mention older shows like THE MUSIC MAN, CAMELOT, MY FAIR LADY, and GUYS AND DOLLS, which I have to say is probably my favorite all-time musical.
No one wrote show songs like Frank Loesser. He was a genius, and still too unheralded in my opinion. He was a high-artist as a lyricist, but it's his musicianship that is historically important. I could go on but I won't. Finally, I have seven wonderful brothers and sisters, so growing up in a carnival atmosphere rather reinforced a theatrical mindset.
JAZ: TELL US ABOUT YOUR OWN EVOLUTION AND BACKGROUND AS AN ARTIST.
MARTIN: Funny. I guess I'm an artist, but I never think of myself that way. (Something about that word!) I knew very early on, I'd say about 12, that I was a gifted writer of words. That was always lurking in the background while I absorbed music and flailed away in college as a theater major. I was always extremely musical but no one ever pointed me to an instrument, even though we had a piano in our home. Only my sisters got lessons.
At the age of 20, I moved in with a guy who played the piano. When he was gone, I'd play his piano and realized I had an aptitude. I even composed a few instrumentals. With this realization, I dropped out of college for two years, worked at the public library, and studied private piano with a Washington, DC, local named Lester B. Karr. Since I was older, and already doing a few sophisticated things on my own, he broke the lessons into two parts: first, I played "baby pieces,'" learning about rudimentary fingering and beginner's theory; then, together we studied pop sheet music—Bacharach, Mancini, stuff like that—and he taught me the jazz Circle of Fifths, which was, needless to say, an eye-opener for me. After 18 months with Karr, I returned to school to finish up in theater, but used all available electives at the Catholic University Music Dept. I got in some additional ear training and basic theory there, plus a new piano teacher named Frank Conlon, who taught me only about a semester's worth, but introduced me to various classicists, like Chopin, Ravel, DeBussy and Prokofiev. On my own, I got interested in Stravinsky and Rachmaninoff. The rest is self-taught, which has been a really interesting journey, upon which I won't elaborate here.
Suffice to say, my formal training has been sketchy, which is too bad because I actually believe I might've been an okay concert pianist. Instead, I became a journalist after I moved to Chicago. I was an editor and writer, mostly for the book industry, magazines and newspapers, and had a decent career doing that. But music always nagged at me. I wrote songs, played piano for Community Theater and did my own demo recordings whenever possible. So at a very delicate emotional time in my life, I quit my editorial job to try to find myself. Almost miraculously, I hooked up with Second City fairly soon after, which began three years of touring and resident musical director stuff, which made me want to learn more about blues and jazz. I've written tons of music by now. Practically all styles. But, like many a Nashville cat, I still have a trunkful of pop/country stuff (I play guitar also) that remains undiscovered. I had one song published in Music City in 2000. It was recorded by a nobody singer and appeared on a nowheresville CD. It was called "Till I Feel Like Me," which is a sentiment I still relate to.
My background as both a journalist and theater person, I think, fated me to become Nashville Scene's theater critic. It merged what I knew with my ability to express a cogent point of view on what was being attempted and achieved in front of me. That said, I love the process of music more than the process of journalism, though I'm equally excited about good results.
JAZ: WHAT PROJECTS ARE YOU CURRENTLY WORKING ON?
MARTIN: Well, as a journalist, I always have projects. To me, that's work, and doesn't always feel like art. Musically is where I'm artistically challenged. I continue to play improv piano whenever I can, because that's exciting and rare and a good workout. And blessedly unpredictable. I continue to work in partnership with singer/actress Stacey Shaffer-Bishop in a cabaret act that we're hoping will take off a bit more in the near future. More recently and ongoing, I've been scoring short films for a filmmaker/writer named Doug Craig, including a 2008 48-Hour Film Project entry and other of his various web projects. Scoring film is an awesome task, and it's perfect for someone like me who's absorbed a lot of styles. I've also contributed original music to Nashville filmmaker Glen Weiss' "Thong Girl" films. And unbeknownst to probably many, I have been acting in the TG series as well, an experience that has been offbeat, to say the least. On the strictly instrumentalist side, I think I'd enjoy working with different singers. Accompanying teaches you so much. Otherwise, I simply strive to improve my chops. That has been a strange experience because I'm actually better now than I've ever been. Without a conventional early foundation, and given the spottiness of my career, I find I'm still learning and growing, which means I haven't tapped out. Which is very nice to know. I kept thinking it would be like an athlete, where your 20s and 30s are your peak. But I didn't really start till then, so it's worked out rather differently for me.
JAZ: WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON NASHVILLE AS A THEATER TOWN?
MARTIN: It has a fantastic pool of actors who need more opportunities, and, most of all need daring directors who will push them to explore. If you're asking about Nashville as a theater town in the typical sense, I'd say it's a tough place to make a living doing theater. I'm not sure what the discussion should be. That it's a laid-back Southern town where you should never expect too much? Or that it has a kind of potential that is real but probably won't ever be developed fully? Either way, that leaves the rare few who are actually supporting themselves doing theater and then everybody else, who do it as a hobby even though they could do it professionally if there were jobs for them. The musical route is logical as a town template, but impact shows are so rare that it hardly seems to matter. We need producers who are aggressive and financially savvy, and we need to pursue edgier material. Or, maybe better, just do something so incredibly commercially minded that it'll make money and employ a bunch of people. I'm for people working. And can it be that audience development in Nashville has reached its zenith? Something to think about.
Perhaps at any given time, you'll only have so many folks going to the theater in Music City, USA. If you could get the bubbas into the theater, well...let's just say a certain demographic is spending its money on other things. But if someone asked me for a shorthand plan, I'd say put high art on hold, develop commercial product with a passion and make money, and then start to lay the groundwork for doing ambitious drama. But if such an approach is ultimately pointless, then I'd like to see grittier stuff directed forcefully, even if everyone loses their shirts at the box office. At least then the envelope gets pushed. And I'm always for original plays, even when they're birthed prematurely. But hey, it's theater. It's always a tough go, isn't it? Perspective is gained readily when you realize that our leading regional rep company opened its season with STEEL MAGNOLIAS. Thank God for Actors Bridge, GroundWorks Theatre, and Tennessee Women's Theatre Project (and the occasional others)—for doing scripts that are new to our community. Our Southern character is great, but it's a big world out there, and we can be more sophisticated if we want to be.
Finally, I'd be remiss not to mention the developments in African American community theater, which have really enriched the local scene in the past several years. Those folks go and get it, and they are growing. It's very exciting because they have a lot to say and are committed to getting out their message. That's an important thing. It'd be cool if they had a breakout project.
LIGHT SENSITVE IS LIFE SENSTIVE
by Trudy S. Gordon
If you believe that theatre has the power to change people, you must see this show. If you want to be able to say the classic line: “I laughed, I cried; it became a part of me” - and really mean it, you must see this show. If you want to truly know what it means to hold a mirror up to nature,
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