UGA’s Best of the Worst Dance Crew

Winners D-Coy celebrate. Photo by Blane Marable.

By Ashley Bene

Hosted by the Committee for Black Cultural Programming, the UGA’s Best Dance Crew competition had its inaugural event on March 22, 2011. Tickets were free for students, and in hindsight, even the free entry couldn’t make up for the wasted hour of my life.

Five UGA dance groups - Georgia Dance Team, D-Coy, Red Hotz, Mahogany, and Sweet Dreams - competed. Each team performed twice: one regular number and one number in which they had to complete a challenge such as dancing in slow-mo. Of course, none of this was explained to the audience before the competition began, and I found myself asking people around me why some groups had to do a “challenge” while others had regular numbers. It was not until the first repeat group of the evening that the course of the competition was clear.

The only group that stood out was the second group, called D-Coy. They are comprised of males and females and specialize in hip-hop dancing. Their performances were clean and energetic (one of the judges said, “too energetic”).

They stayed in sync with each other, while also incorporating their own personalities into the dance moves with facial expressions and body language. When they did transitional moves to change formations during their numbers, they kept the transitions short, careful not to waste precious dance time. They came into the competition as a crowd favorite, and their second routine got the only standing ovation of the evening.

The other four groups were all-female and despite each group claiming to have experience with a number of different types of dance (jazz, tap, lyrical, hip-hop, contemporary, ballet, etc), they relied on sexiness to appeal to the crowd.

The groups are interchangeable in my memory as I remember the competition. The one who stands out most was Georgia Dance Team, which is in its first year at UGA, because they were the least polished performers. Two of their dancers almost collided, and many had rubbery knees and legs as they attempted spins. They looked at their feet a lot, and one girl looked so bored I was expecting her to yawn in the middle of the number.

The other three groups had better energy and covered any mistakes they made more smoothly, but their routines were about shaking their hips around and hair-tossing rather than any challenging dance moves.

Now, I don’t expect college students to get on stage and perform straight ballet or tap pieces to hip-hop/pop songs, but they can incorporate more of the principles of these dance forms into it to stay true to the art form. There’s nothing impressive about dancing like you’re in a night club. Most of the girls I know do that every weekend with no prior dance experience. Perhaps the worst moves these groups made was over using poses.

One group did sexy poses for the last thirty seconds of a song, while the other groups used poses as transitional parts of routines while some of the performers moved around the stage, posing as they walked. There is nothing impressive or creative about posing. If you want to pose, model; aside from the start and end of a dance, there is very little room to waste music on poses.

As if a dance competition full of bad dancers wasn’t enough, the judges were pretty clueless as well. The four judges included the Myers Hall Area Coordinator, Adam Scarbaro; two basketball players, Chris Barnes and Trey Tompkins; and, the only judge with dance background, a female UGA student, Shirleyse Costen.

After each number, the judges got to critique the dancers, which ruined any chance of the competition or the judges’ abilities being taken seriously. Scarbaro told nearly every group, “good job,” which garnered laughter from the audience after the first three performances. Costen made helpful observations a few times, but made a snotty comment when she told D-Coy she “has stepped before and wasn’t impressed” with their challenge to include step moves, even though it was a clean, energetic dance. Barnes and Tompkins were oblivious to the dancing and spent the evening ogling every scantily-clad female on the stage. After a particularly sexy number by Sweet Dreams, Barnes said, “I’m gonna have sweet dreams tonight!”

Lucky for the judges picking a winner wasn’t rocket science, as D-Coy was easily the best group there and had the most audience support. Mahogany earned second place over Sweet Dreams, who came in third. Really though, winning UGA’s Best Dance Crew is meaningless, as nobody in the competition was that impressive.

Classic satire shows its True Colors

By Marlyncia Pierce

Miss Pat, a perky flight attendant, warns to “fasten your shackles” as Kenny Leon’s True Colors Theatre brings the 1986 classic satire “The Colored Museum.” While Miss Pat (Amber Iman) lays down the rules for the flight — no drums, no rebellion — we expect our ride to be turbulent with laughter all the while stricken with heavy truths. The play is set up like a museum with 11 exhibits, all taking jabs at stereotypes surrounding African Americans. Even 25 years later, George C. Wolfe’s timeless play falls in place as True Colors handles the colorful, sophisticated context with special care.

As the director for her third True Color’s performance, Jasmine Guy extends the talent of six actors to unravel the absurd yet hysterical exhibition. She first got her feet wet in the director’s pool with “For Colored Girls,” and later with “I Dream: The Life of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.” Guy spruces up Wolfe’s script with insertions of present-day motifs, including pokes at the current dance craves like “The Dougie” and “The Stanky Leg.” Oddly, the 90-minute exhibition plays through without an intermission, leaving little room to digest the messages in their entirety. In real life, no one breezes through a museum without a small second (or in this case, a 15 minute intermission) to reflect and ponder on the message. Another fault were the kinks in the sound system, which were a bit distracting. But the cast’s resilience over the technicalities can’t go unrecognized.

The vignette “Soldier with a Secret,” performed by Ali Aman Carter speaks volumes on the troubled soldiers coming home after war. The monologue is followed by a lighthearted, but toilsome “The Last-Mama-on-the-Couch Play,” which pokes fun at theater classics, “Raisin in the Sun” and “For Colored Girls,” a choreopoem that Guy also directed for True Colors’ last year. Here, Enoch King stands out as “the angry black man,” whose brows are low from oppression from “the man.” His eloquent touch in other exhibits: the tormented, flamboyant homosexual and the conformed, token black guy are breathtakingly delightful.

Self-identity and objectification shows through in “The Hairpiece” as kinky coiled Janine (Yakini Horn) and straight pressed LaWonda (Danielle Deadwyler) hash it out. “It don’t matter the grade, as long as the point gets made,” LaWonda shouts as The Woman (Amber Iman) decides which wig to flaunt on a date to break up with her boyfriend. Horn and Deadwyler are exquisite in their comedic tag-team work over the touchy subject of the black woman’s hair.

Until April 17, “The Colored Museum” will raise questions and eyebrows while the subjects juggle the line between offensive and gratification. The crowd responded with side-crunching laughs and heavy moans for the nerve-striking lines. The Porter Sandford III Performing Arts Center is located on the outskirts of Atlanta in Decatur. As Guy addressed her in greeting to the audience, "If it's good, [the people] will come." For what it's worth (without an intermission and sound problems) — it is good.

Dark play made some uncomfortable

By Kari Quill

“How far do your memories go back?” Lemon (Paige Pulaski) asked the audience of Wallace Shawn’s 1985 dark play, "Aunt Dan and Lemon."

Instantly, this frumpy, sickly woman had me uncomfortable with her constant intentional eye twitching and head nodding. The rhetorical questions she asked from her lemon-colored armchair quickly merited a response from me. Although I refrained, I wanted nothing more than to tell her that her explicit approval of the German Nazis was unsettling. Following this conviction was her admission that she would be “fine with dying,” after a life spent almost entirely void of human interaction.

Eventually, I realized Shawn, a playwright notorious for provoking controversial arguments, had mastered the opening scene with Lemon’s contestable monologue. Anxious to hear how the protagonist would support her beliefs cemented by her unproductive life, my ears were fully attuned to the University of Georgia student production.

After Lemon’s lecture, I was grateful for the introduction of a new character named Freddie (Matthew Bowdren), the father of Lemon. His wit and strident voice awakened the audience as he shouted about the Darwin characteristics of the working class in the 1960s. Once he finished his rant, the execution of the play became obvious: flashbacks that don’t pertain to a plot. Luckily, not every character is as abrasive as Lemon’s father, whom Lemon says resembles “a caged animal” after overhearing a quarrel between him and her passive mother (Chelsey Horn).

While the play continues with limited props and lengthy monologues, some redeeming qualities emerge. I am stunned by the consistency of the casts’ English accents combined with their memorization skills. Most engrossing are Aunt Dan’s stories she recites to her 11-year-old worshipper, Lemon.

As one of the two American-born characters in the play, Dan is equally as captivating with her American accent as she recounts her trysts in London and obsessions with Henry Kissinger and public policy. While her parents are oblivious to the intimate relationship between Lemon and Aunt Dan, her father’s best friend, Lemon tells us: “[My parents] had me, but I only had Aunt Dan.”

It seemed that each time members of the audience yawned during a speech, at least one of the characters started to undress, regaining their attention. Mindy (Spencer Tootle), the money-hungry call girl, demands attentiveness from every male member in the audience as she struts around in lingerie. However, it was the unexpected bloodshed that regained my interest an hour and a half into the performance.

The beastliness Lemon claims to be innate in every human proves to be a major theme of the play. Some characters reveal this trait through action while others only vocalize it. As Lemon gleefully preaches with pursed lips, her brutish opinions resonate with the audience. The similarities she draws between civilized people and the Nazis are enough to elicit a response from an individual only vaguely aware of the unjust treatment of Jews during World War II.

As she sat drinking her daily supplement of lime and celery juice, I couldn’t help but equate the liquid to her slimy personality. Her admiration for the “truthful” Nazis, whom also lacked compassion, elicited my firm rebuttal. This in mind, I commend the show and its talented cast, but wouldn’t consider a second viewing.

Even now I wonder how Lemon sat confident and comfortable in her armchair as I squirmed in mine, noticing that she never missed a blink.

Studio Series at UGA puts on another performance

By Kelundra Smith

UGA’s University Theatre recently produced Aunt Dan and Lemon written by Wallace Shawn as a part of their studio series. Studio series productions use minimal sets and technical elements to focus on acting and directing.

In this witty, controversial play, Wallace Shawn invites the audience into Lemon’s reality. Most of the play takes place in 1960s England at the height of political unrest due to the Vietnam War and the sexual revolution. We find Lemon, a troubled young woman, reflecting on her adolescence, particularly her summers with Aunt Dan.

The play, directed by UGA professor Farley Richmond, had a set consisting of an arm chair, lamp, side table and two rugs downstage right, and a long table and five chairs at center stage. The play starred UGA sophomore Paige Pulaski as Lemon and UGA MFA student Jennifer Schottstadt as Aunt Dan.

Aunt Dan, short for Danielle, is an American who Lemon’s parents befriended while studying at Oxford. The entire family grows fond of Aunt Dan, but this fondness quickly changes. As Lemon’s father’s health starts to fail, and Aunt Dan and Lemon’s mother have political disagreements, the dynamics change. This causes Aunt Dan to draw more toward Lemon, and they develop an intimate relationship.

I must admit I went into the play with my own opinions about the production, because I read the play a few years ago. I was particularly curious about how they were going to keep such a wordy play engaging for an audience. The play consists mostly of monologues where Lemon and Aunt Dan are speaking to each other or the audience. And the show has a run time of two hours without an intermission.

The actors worked hard to make sure that monologues were manageable for the audience by infusing humor and using inflection. Lemon speaks candidly to the audience, which could have been boring, but it was engaging. And despite a recent obsession with the Nazis and their usage of genocide, she is rather charming. The actors were also working with British and Spanish accents. And though these accents were not very good, they did help to give the long speeches some life.

Shawn never reveals Lemon’s exact diagnosis, but it is implied that she is a schizophrenic. The audience watches snippets of selected stories from Lemon’s past play out. Lemon inserts herself into the scenes as she narrates them. Ironically, Lemon seems in control of her opinions, which are very controversial, but seems out of control of her life and relationships.

This is perhaps why she admires Aunt Dan, who seems to have an affair with everyone she encounters. Aunt Dan does not seem to have a past, because she is so much in the present, but she is a large part of Lemon’s. I must say Aunt Dan seemed more reasonable in script, no matter how controversial, but on stage she seems an over-educated, self-righteous, abrasive, idealist especially concerning Henry Kissinger.

This is obvious in a well-directed scene where Aunt Dan and Lemon’s mother argue about Kissinger’s policies during Vietnam. In a seemingly endless (but quite funny) rant, Aunt Dan cannot seem to understand why the media is criticizing Kissinger’s pro-American tactics.

However, the most engaging scenes of the show took place when Aunt Dan spoke about her swinger friends from Oxford. One specific scene involved a mysterious Spaniard, swindled by a beautiful, money-hungry woman named Mindy. The blocking in these scenes made me feel like I was peeking in on something scandalous, but I could not look away.

This production was OK overall, but the delivery of such socially and politically heavy material by such young actors was admirable. Lemon’s balance of innocence and controversy made her one of the strangest characters I have ever seen on stage, which fit the script perfectly.

Disturbing flashbacks give foundation for play

By Lauren Ellison

The University of Georgia’s theater department revived Wallace Shawn’s 1985 play, "Aunt Dan and Lemon," in the Cellar Theatre this week.

"Aunt Dan and Lemon" chronicles a series of disturbing flashbacks told through the eyes of Lemon (Paige Pulaski), a chronically ill woman whose joviality and pleasantly frank disposition often distract from the story’s core darkness. "Aunt Dan and Lemon" raises questions we ponder in our darkest moments, questions many of us never dare to ask aloud. Exploring and challenging the notions of compassion and morality, Shawn’s play, directed here by Farley Richmond, raises questions that that stuck with me for hours, even days, after leaving the theatre.

The play opens with Lemon seated contentedly in an armchair, surrounded by half-empty glasses of colorful fruit and vegetable juice concoctions. Makeup-free and hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, Lemon’s drab disposition paints an accurate picture of a reclusive woman living alone with the ghosts of her past.

Addressing the crowd with gentle ease, Lemon explains that due to her illness, which we never learn any particulars about, she was robbed of an adventurous life, never given any opportunity to see the world for herself. Instead she immerses herself in literature (books about the Nazis are her choice of late) while also living vicariously through the characters of her past. The most valuable lessons she’s learned about life stem from stories passed down to her by Danielle (Jennifer Schottstadt), also known as Aunt Dan, a close friend of Lemon’s parents. Aunt Dan captures the heart of young Lemon with her infectious passion and unapologetic outspokenness, and the two grow to need each other, and love each other, in a more twisted and complicated way than tradition would have it.

Lemon raises daring questions when speaking to the audience, at one point offering a shocking alternative point of view on the Nazi death camps. Are we really so different from the Nazis, she wonders? Killing is unpleasant, certainly, but what is so wrong with admitting that there is something inside of us that wants to kill? The answer: compassion. This emotion is beaten into our consciences from birth.

We are told that it is right to be compassionate, but Lemon wants to know why. I couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably in my seat when Lemon asked how the Nazis killing the Jews was any different from us poisoning cockroaches in our homes once they become an unavoidable problem. None of us would do it if it weren’t necessary, she rationalizes, but unfortunately, they felt that it was.

The play is an ongoing intellectual debate, stacked with extraordinarily drawn out monologues debating life’s most challenging moral dilemmas. Pulaski’s gleeful tone adds an unexpected lightness to the profound nature of her ideas, creating a chummy sort of camaraderie between the audience and herself. She embodies the essence of Lemon’s complex character to a tee, allowing a childlike innocence to bleed through her adult façade. Pulaski delivers extensive monologues flawlessly, nailing the English accent the entire show.

The standout performance of the evening came from Schottstadt as Aunt Dan, who is a dead ringer for Anne Hathaway in both physical appearance and natural talent. It is impossible to not be captivated by Schottstadt’s uninhibited confidence and raw emotion throughout the play. Schottstadt steals the show with her impassioned rants against anyone who speaks against Henry Kissinger, with whom she is almost humorously and psychotically obsessed throughout the play. Defending his honor and justifying his wartime decisions, (from this we can gather the story is set during the Vietnam War,) Aunt Dan becomes enraged at Kissinger’s critics. “What did YOU decide today?” Aunt Dan demands of them. Who are we judge his choices, as we sit in our comfortable homes, with our mundane lives that affect no one but ourselves?

Aunt Dan and Lemon dares to ask if we are actually as different from the Nazis as we prefer to think. Is compassion real, or is it a notion we think we feel because we know we’re supposed to? The painful honesty of the production made me both uneasy and unsure. Am I offended or intrigued? It’s something I’m still deciding.

Though the dialogue was compelling, all I could think the entire play was how much I’d prefer it to be a musical. Maybe I just thought the Nazi comments would have been a little less uncomfortable had Lemon belted them in an inappropriately upbeat ballad.

The script was indeed thought provoking, but long-winded and exhausting at times. The acting, however, was impeccable. The moral debates discussed in "Aunt Dan and Lemon" continue to haunt me days later, so despite the play’s occasional rambling moments, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make a surprisingly significant impression on me, and I’m a little irritated that I might be thinking about this play for weeks to come.

Everyday life, work displayed at Ga Museum

By Sarah Grace Smith

A quick glance at any newspaper will show that America is a study in contrasts. Everything from politics to socio-economic status to pop culture create divisions that make American culture seem like a pot set to boil rather than a melting pot.

"The American Scene on Paper: Prints and Drawings from the Schoen Collection," on display through May 2 at the Georgia Museum of Art, shows that this phenomenon is not a new one. Featuring artwork from the 1930s, 40s and 50s, this exhibit depicts scenes from everyday life in the mid-twentieth century.

The variety of mediums used and experiences shown create a spectrum of sights and feelings that seem like they could have been taken from life today. Many of the works were created by artists working under New Deal programs during the Great Depression, and as the country works its way out from under the Great Recession, these pieces seem especially pertinent, even 80 years later.

The showcase is divided into sections presenting different themes common in the works, such as regionalism, industry and abstract works. The first room provided a general overview of the artists, introducing their different styles and subject matters through works usually including some sort of self-portrait. The collections features of variety of artists of varying notoriety.

The owner of this collection, Jason Schoen, is an art consultant who has created a valuable resource in his collection, not only for those interested in American art history, but also those interested in the everyday lives of mid-twentieth century Americans.

One such representative piece is Edward Laning's "The Park," created in 1933 with ink, chalk and silverpoint. In sepia tones, the picture shows a playground full of children, some playing marbles, others sliding, some being comforted by concerned mothers. Though the drawing could be a modern day scene, the clothing and lack of modern safety measures place it firmly in the last century. And though the scene is so commonly American, Laning's style brings to mind sketches by Renaissance artists. This juxtaposition of so many factors is common in the exhibit. Though many of the drawings seem simple at first glance, a careful look reveals layers of meaning and craft.

Though most of the works are black and white etchings, lithographs or sketches, this lack of color does not detract from the interest of the pieces. One of the most beautiful and typical works is "Glow of the City," part of the section featuring scenes from the Northeast. The foreground is dark, pierced with spots of light that are lit windows. The background is light but foggy, and the Empire State Building looms in this glow.

The deep contrast between the foreground and background of the picture is a common motif in the collection and offers insight into the feeling of the time. Darkness was close at hand, but the thought of better days to come kept people hoping. The timeliness of this message is almost eerie, and the deep blacks and stark whites make it seem as if ghosts from the past have come to deliver it.

Not all of the works were created with such profound messages. Moments of humor and irony show up often even in works that can seem serious in tone. Many of the artists find humor in the mannerisms of the people they depict or the contrast between expectation and reality.

The gallery's lay-out emphasizes the progress and interplay of ideas. Comic relief comes along at the right moments. Rural gives way to urban, just as American life was at the time. And the more traditional depictions of American life give way to the abstract and surreal.

"The American Scene on Paper" is the museum's second collaboration with Schoen and the Mobile Museum of Art of Mobile, Alabama. In 2003, the museums created "Coming Home: American Paintings, 1930-1950, from the Schoen Collection." America has entered a different era in its history since that time, an era that is more akin to the one shown in this collection. "The American Scene" raises questions about work and art, and shows the beauty that exists in the everyday.

Aunt Dan and Lemon

By Courtney M. Holbrook

The Nazis may have had it right.

That’s the lesson Lemon, our protagonist, would like us to learn. Compassion and love — foreign feelings to a sickly girl feverishly remembering the dead and gone — circle like so much wasted space in playwright Wallace Shawn’s “Aunt Dan and Lemon.”

As performed by UGA’s University Theatre, the play is dominated by two sinister performances.

As Aunt Dan, an American studying at Oxford University, Jennifer Schottstädt gives us a seductive yet ultimately frightening performance.

As Lemon, a sickly woman with an even sicker worldview, Paige Pulaski gives us a woman who is seemingly frail, yet far more disturbing than we can imagine.

Set during 1970s Vietnam in London, the play follows a father and mother, their daughter, Lemon, and their American friend, Dan. “Aunt” Dan tells stories about her glamorous friends at Oxford. Lemon listens, enraptured by Aunt Dan’s tales of mob bosses and married professors.

But soon the audience comes to learn about Dan’s obsession with Henry Kissinger.

This obsession turns and turns, until suddenly Dan and Lemon are rationalizing murder, evil and oppression in the pursuit of the greater good. Dan takes Kissinger’s RealPolitick and applies it to her personal life, where the individual must dominate all others.

As we watch Dan’s friends act in increasingly horrifying ways, we also are forced to empathize with Lemon’s fascist, take-no-prisoners mentality on life. For this ill woman, strong and unfeeling people are to be praised, not shunned.

Set on a sparse set, the production pushes the audience to focus on the actors. Most of the time, that works. Aside from Lemon and Aunt Dan, Chelsey Horn gives a moving performance as Lemon’s mother. Hers is the one voice of real compassion in the show — and Dan’s Ciceronian verbosity shuts her down.

Though most of the cast works well with what is a linguistically challenging script, there are some problems. Spencer Tootle, as Mindy, is not believable as a cold-hearted, irresistible seductress. She is too childlike and blank-faced. She sometimes looks uncomfortable with the overt sexual evil of the character. At other times, she just looks confused.

The lighting focuses on the wrong parts of the stage. It’s a minor issue, but one that is a distraction from specific monologues.

In the end, this is a play whose dialogue dominates all else. It is Aunt Dan’s use of language that makes her the frightening force in Lemon’s life.

But it is Lemon who is the real terror. Her cheerful London accent chirps throughout the narrative. But it is when you really listen to her words that you realize the horror of who she is. For in Lemon’s world, compassion is futile, and political leaders such as Kissinger and Hitler are to be admired. This would be impossible without Pulaski’s deceptively terrifying performance.

“Aunt Dan and Lemon” reveals the terror of social acceptance toward evil, and the all too easy way in which good people can become heartless.

Comedy and drama coexist in 'Dearly Departed'

By Colin Frawley

It’s asking a lot of a play to expect both humor and pathos in equal measure. In “Dearly Departed,” the Black Theatre Ensemble’s latest production, director Kelundra Smith often strikes a balance between the two notions, stumbling only when tears and titters seem to be vying for supremacy within the same scene. “Dearly Departed” is entertaining and compelling from end to end, but it would benefit from a couple tweaks aimed at establishing a firmer tonal center.

The play begins at the breakfast table with the death of Bud, who, based on the exposition we receive later, is your classic grumpy, gruff patriarch who insists on doing things his own way. After Bud meets his maker face-first in a plate of eggs, his surviving family members are forced to — God forbid — spend some time together and plan a proper burial for their dearly departed.

The catalysts of the operation are Bud’s responsible son, Ray (Dane Alejandro, who also plays Bud in the opening scene), and Bud’s resolute widow, Raynelle (Lauren Rice). Everyone else — Bud’s penniless, philandering other son, Junior; his fundamentalist Christian sister, Marguerite; as well as a cast of cantankerous in-laws — seems to be too wrapped up in other pursuits to lend much help. Despite being an ensemble-driven number, "Dearly Departed" ultimately privileges Ray’s side of the struggle, sympathizing with his frustration over anyone else’s.

It’s too bad, then, that Alejandro was one of the weaker elements of the cast. His character was well-written, displaying a believable mixture of sparring emotions, but more so than anyone else on stage, Alejandro came across like he was reciting lines instead of interacting with fellow human beings. He’s only a sophomore at the University Georgia, so I hope persistence pays off and we see him churning out better and better performances as time goes on.

The rest of the cast was at least adequate, and in some cases, remarkable. Most notably, Elliot Dixon floored me in the roles of the Rev. Hooker, Clyde the mechanic and, most charmingly of all, Norval the contented invalid. Dixon took the lead in all his scenes without ever appearing starved for attention. In the hands of a less considerate actor, the role of the Rev. Hooker could easily have fallen into the trap of the fire-and-brimstone caricature; instead, Dixon imbued the Reverend with a prudent, articulate demeanor that made him one of the most sympathetic characters on stage.

I began by discussing the play’s tone, and I think both the writers (David Bottrell and Jessie Jones) and director deserve credit for maintaining a fairly consistent balance throughout the two hour-plus narrative. After a couple scenes, it started to become clear that each somber passage would soon be followed by a moment of comic relief — and many of them killed it. One woman in my row stomped the floor in laughter so many times I was tempted to ask her when she was supposed to get to China.

In any event, the one-two, sad-funny formula worked for the most part, helping reinforce the multi-faceted nature of certain characters while keeping things breezy for the audience. But as I mentioned earlier, there were a couple sticky moments where strong emotion was undermined by an inappropriate joke that simply fell flat (see, for instance, a funeral scene toward the end in which one character sits munching on an ice cream bar in the foreground while everyone else grieves and says their goodbyes to Bud).

“Dearly Departed” worked for me, thanks to generally solid acting and a plot that tied up neatly at the end. Still, there were some odd inconsistencies that threw the vibes in the Morton Theatre into a strange flux. While I applaud the attempt at variety, some slight directorial adjustments would go a long way toward getting the play’s incompatible feelings out of each other’s hair. Comedy and drama are not mutually exclusive, but things can get awfully messy when they start stealing each other’s lines.

Broadway classic makes a fairy good show in Macon

BEAU CABELL/THE TELEGRAPH Emma Stitt, as Eliza Doolittle, exults after finally getting the rain in Spain lesson down from M. Jared Carson as Henry Higgins, center, in Theatre Macon’s production of “My Fair Lady.” Rob O’Quinn, left, stars as Pickering.

By Hal Tift

"My Fair Lady" begs for a Broadway-sized budget. Theatre Macon and local director Jim Crisp took on this classic show without such a luxury, however, and the result is a carefully crafted production that is wholly entertaining despite its constraints.

The story opens on the streets of London, where crude and lovable Eliza Doolittle attempts to earn a meager living selling flowers. By chance she eventually finds herself as the subject of a social experiment, whereby the cold and tactless linguist, Henry Higgins, takes a bet that he can shape Doolittle into an elegant lady within six months.

Over that time, Doolittle is exposed to the ostentatious lifestyle of London’s upper class. At times, she only ekes by without being discovered, but eventually Higgins has her perfectly trained. For a small production, to provide a convincingly flamboyant atmosphere may be a daunting task.

Director Crisp told me after the show that indeed the budget was a major concern and that he had harbored reservations about choosing the show at first. For instance, the size of the venue, which seats just more than 200 guests, does not immediately lend itself to hosting royal galas. In the end, though, Crisp was pleased, deflecting most of the credit in the direction of his actors, the set and costume designers and the orchestra.

Indeed, the set and costumes were not indicative of the Crisp’s self-proclaimed small budget. Much of the play takes place in the interior of Higgins’ home, where two enormous bookshelves, lined with authentic-looking books and gadgets such as a phonograph and a xylophone, both of which are used as props in addition to decor. Costumes never detracted from the audience’s immersion in the story and (by design) only drew attention in formal settings, such as when characters are gawking at Doolittle’s dress at a ball.

The success of any musical, of course, depends substantially on the music itself. With regard to instrumentation, the modest six-piece orchestra rises to the challenge in "My Fair Lady," providing an in-tune and surprisingly full sound throughout the show. The actors sing well too, especially as an ensemble. At several moments during the production, primary or even secondary characters join together in producing some memorable barbershop-style harmonies.

Leads Michael Jared Carson (Higgins) and Emma Stitt (Doolittle) do not squeeze all of the vocal potential out of their well-known roles, but their voices are certainly no letdown, and at times they are magnificent: Stitt in “I Could Have Danced All Night,” for instance. Along with the majority of the cast, their command of the various English accents is solid enough to leave some audience members believing that they natively speak with an English accent (they do not).

A notoriously fun aspect of the show is Doolittle’s jarring lower-class English accent, and Stitt delivers, providing laugh after laugh with a dropped ‘h’ or badly misspoken vowel. Carson too evokes audience-wide chuckles, with his screeching impression of a nagging woman during one of the show’s most colorful songs, “A Hymn to Him.”

Carson’s acting is what sets him apart, more so than his singing, and by the end of the production, there’s little doubt that he has stolen the show. During songs his ability to weave spoken-word acting and humor into his performance is impressive and truly makes the show. There are dozens of components, on and off stage, that deserve praise for this production, but "My Fair Lady" simply cannot succeed without a charismatic and humorous Higgins — Carson’s take on the eccentric Englishman is just that.

The strongest vocalist in the cast is Bryson Halloway (Freddy Eynsford-Hill), who appears only sparingly in the story. The infrequency with which Halloway’s charming singing voice is showcased throughout the show is somewhat disappointing, but in light of Carson’s knack for the role of Higgins, it is not difficult to see why he ultimately was chosen for the part over anyone else, Halloway included.

While the production transcends its budgetary limitations to a remarkable degree, the show cannot escape them completely. Even with the talented orchestra and cast, climactic musical moments sometimes fall a bit flat, simply because of the physical limitations of the space and the number of performers. For those viewers who approach the small production with reasonable expectations, though, you’ll be on your feet when the curtain falls.

Atlanta Has Second Rate Showcase

By Chantai P. Meadows

Somewhere in Northwest Atlanta, between a package store and a Taco Bell, sits Allure nightclub, where, according to the flier advertising the event, “the nation’s funniest comedians” come to perform every Sunday.

Allure’s weekly spectacle, otherwise known as “The Art of Stand Up," is little more than a parade of local amateur comedians who, despite their sincerest efforts, are not all that funny.

That said, their attempts to be funny were quite entertaining. Watching crowd responses to sub-par performances and even some of the material indirectly provided plenty of laughter throughout the evening.

The unapologetically, "grown & sexy" (code for old and still out there among African Americans) scene set the tone for the evening. The spacious venue was filled with 30 and 40-something-year-old couples. The comfortable over-sized seats situated around the bar housed single men and women sipping the drinks. The plastic card tables in front of the stage filled with anxious regulars looking forward to the night ahead.

Thirty minutes after the show's scheduled start, one of the night’s Emcee’s, Malakai, took the stage exposing the club’s poor sound system and his mediocre routine. After nearly five minutes of uninspired bits about gas prices, fashion trends among the young and Mexican immigrants, he finally introduced the night’s first comedian.

Unfortunately, Malakai’s introduction was indicative of things to come; perpetual tardiness, forgettable material and unoriginality intermixed with painfully awkward performances.

No performance was more awkward or more memorable than that of Kristy, one of the night’s few female comedians.

Initially, Kristy showed promise. Her anecdotes documenting life as a single mother seemed sincere. Stories of her children’s curiosity and disobedience inspired laughter among the crowd and of my own adolescence. Then she entered the realm of the weird where spousal homicide and dismemberment is just “what you get” and mom’s masturbation is fair game for show and tell.

Admittedly, her fantasy about killing her ex-husband was unexpected but relatable. Everyone’s got that guy they hate, right?

The rendition of her mother’s shower masturbation sessions, on the other hand, was just plain wrong. Even if the crowd could ignore her fondling herself with one hand and feigning masturbation using the microphone with the other, the reluctant crowd being forced to supply the soundtrack of “Oh Happy Day” took the experience from wrong to ridiculous.

Although Kristy’s routine begs for revision, her bravery demands recognition. It takes guts to show that level of crazy to a room full of strangers who are laughing at you for all the wrong reasons.

The remainder of the night showcased mostly male comedians who, despite a few moments of promise here and there, were largely disappointing.

At best, their jokes were innovative but crass and at worst, bad imitations of tired gags borrowed from comedic legends such as Red Fox and Richard Pryor.

Nearly every performer that took the stage paid homage to these trail-blazers by muddying their material. Whether it was with a racist joke about Mexicans in America or a recycled anecdote detailing the sexcapades of single men, their tributes honored the greats only by reminding the crowd how much they are missed.

After a few hours of this, all of the routines melted into a continuous rehash of the same topics and themes, all of which were thoroughly void of humor and originality. In sum, it was a night of different names and faces delivering the same sorry stand-up.

Despite the obvious lack of comedic talent evident in the comedians showcased that evening, I enjoyed myself. Even still, I wouldn’t encourage anyone to venture to Allure for Sunday night standup. Surely there’s better things to do in Atlanta.

Patton Stands Up

By Daniel Suddes

It is hard for me to not revert into fan mode and declare Patton Oswalt’s new material to be the funniest thing I am likely to hear all year. Oswalt has always been a very funny figure, and it has done a much better job strengthening my abdominal muscles than any gym could. However, it is hard to explain why.

Personally, I am not sure how Patton Oswalt has managed to find the levels of success that he has. He is not a physically imposing man in any way (in the entertainment business, looks are often the bottom line), he does not have any major routines or props (almost all comedians these days carry guitars — I think it’s some sort of union rule) and he is not particularly profane (again, union rules).

What he always has been is consistently funny in explaining his own world view. What’s best is that Oswalt’s view seems to speak to a wide variety of people, regardless of their background. He is a hopeless geek, but then so is practically everyone I meet. Better yet, the vast changes in his life (including marriage and fatherhood) have not seemed to change him one iota. In some ways, this is a disadvantage. Most of the material feels recycled to a certain degree. But Oswalt is still one of the best comedians working today.

His most recent show at the 40 Watt Club (where he practiced new material for his upcoming album) had all of his usual fare. He discussed what he feels is the absurdity, but practicality, of religion, his ballooning waist line and the situations his fame his put him in. It caused uproarious laughter — but it also felt like he had been there all before.

For example, one of his new jokes is about how he may claim that the only reason that he may be nice to people is that a group of invisible goblins follows him around and will attack him if he is ever mean. The point is that people who are only nice because of their religious convictions are not really nice people at all. It is certainly a funny, poignant observation — but it is also very similar to a bit in his last album, "My Weakness is Strong," about the “Sky Cake.” It feels like the equivalent of "Seinfeld" telling the waiting room joke for the 50th time — it may still be funny, but I also have the desire for something new.

Still, this did very little to diminish the many highlights of the show. In one of the most memorable moments (one of the few times he tried to move away from the microphone) he discussed how there is no overeaters anonymous heroic figure. He impersonates a Norman Maileresque man who discusses how hard eating caused his family to abandon him. It drew some of the biggest laughs of the evening, and also felt just as edgy as his earlier material.

He also discussed his daughter, and how she will only dance for a limited amount of time because she feels this is normal (rather than just her dad running out of breath). In addition, Oswalt was not afraid to engage the audience, including telling one person to not record him. This actually proved a beautiful segue into another joke (about a man who posted clips of Oswalt on Youtube) and almost seemed planned out. Oswalt is as natural at what he does as Bill Hicks was — that is the source of his success. He does not take the role of an entertainer or a comedian — he is a smart man just trying to carry on a conversation.

The strength of Wednesday’s show was ultimately in Oswalt’s delivery. His new material may not be the strongest. But he still performs it as though it is. This man could spend the rest of his career telling knock knock jokes and he would still be among the greatest comedians of all time. This knowledge means that Oswalt may not be as likely to challenge himself anymore. But he will always be able to draw in the crowds.

Black Theatrical Ensemble makes 'Death' humorous

By Rebekah Baldwin

The way we handle the loss of a loved one says a lot about us, while also forcing us to re-evaluate our lives. The characters in "Dearly Departed," performed by the Black Theatrical Ensemble at the Morton Theatre this past weekend, are at a poignant moment in their lives, which makes examining their personalities and relationships all the more interesting.

The play, written by David Bottrell and Jessie Jones, tells the story of a Southern family as they deal with the death of Bud — husband, father, uncle and brother. Bud's death isn't really the point of the story, but a backdrop over which to expose characters. Each person handles the loss in a different way, just as any family would.

Ray-Bud, the oldest son and new patriarch of the family, takes the burden of funeral arrangements and stresses over costs. “Tell her we'll just strap him on top of the Impala,” he suggests to save money on a hearse. Junior, the dreamer younger brother, wants the best of everything for his father without considering the realities of finances. Suzanne, Junior's nagging, dramatic wife, makes it about herself. Lucille, Ray-Bud's supportive wife, takes care of everyone as they grieve. Marguerite, Bud's religious, judgmental sister, sticks her nose in everyone's business. “That's three G-O-D's and it's only 7:05 in the morning,” she complains to her son Royce, who seems uninterested. Raynelle calmly and unemotionally plans her husband's funeral. She's “not real happy, not real sad, just glad I guess. Glad it all happened. Glad I knew him.” And Delightful, the youngest mentally-handicapped daughter, who her mother calls a "surprise," eats throughout — she says less than five words during the entire play, but might be the funniest character.

The only problem is that there are so many characters it's a little hard to keep up with who's who and how everyone is related, especially in the beginning before we meet everyone. Several of the characters could have been cut entirely — namely Royce, who adds little to either the plot or humor of the play.

In addition, a few scenes, which distract from the plot more than help move it along, could also have been eliminated. For example, a scene depicting the pastor hosting a radio show had little to do with the rest of the storyline. During the second act I found myself checking my watch. Had a few of the extraneous scenes been cut out, the slow pace might have been avoided.

The strength of "Dearly Departed" lies in its ability to deal with somber topics like death, miscarriage and infidelity and still be funny. It's not just that there is comic relief throughout, it’s that the issues themselves are handled in a comical way.

“I have got to remember to get the batteries changed on his pace maker,” says an elderly woman attending Bud's wake about her husband, whose costume of high waisted shorts with suspenders, tall white socks, black tennis shoes and a golf hat fit his role perfectly. He may be knocking on death's door, but the intricacies of his medical problems have become commonplace to her. And that's what most hardships in life are, just things we have to deal with to get by.

The family dynamics in "Dearly Departed" are also true to life. This is shown best when Ray-Bud and Junior get in a fistfight in the afternoon, but are able to get past it and have a good conversation later that night without so much as an apology from either one. All families have some level of dysfunction. "Dearly Departed" brings that dysfunction to life in a light-hearted, yet realistic way.

It's the characters in "Dearly Departed" that make it worth watching. I found myself connecting to nearly all of them, in part due to excellent character development, but, also, largely because of the quality of acting. Marguerite and Suzanne's characters were a little over exaggerated, but that's part of what made them funny. Royce was a little boring, and Junior was hard to understand at times, but the actors who played Ray-Bud, Lucille and Raynelle gave outstanding performances that allowed the audience to sympathize with them. The actress who played Delightful managed to steal scenes without saying a word — a true mark of good acting. By intermission, I had forgotten that I was watching actors, a testament to the believability of each character.

"Dearly Departed" succeeds in providing a humorous look into family interactions. The great writing and acting kept me — and the rest of the audience — laughing throughout and explain why the play has been reproduced hundreds of times in the 20 years since its original debut.

You'll feel at home at Dad's

By Jennifer L. Johnson

The good thing about improv comedy shows is that you’ll never go to the same one twice. You never know what you’re going to get — but at Dad’s Garage Theatre in Atlanta, at least you know you’re going to get a good laugh.

After my first trip five years ago, I became addicted to the Friday night show "Murder She Improvised," which tossed together Angela Lansbury’s famous TV show, "Sherlock Holmes," audience suggestions, a truckload of implausibility and one wicked fake mustache.

Now, you might not expect much of any performance you have to watch from weathered auditorium seats on plywood risers inside a windowless warehouse, even if that warehouse is a stone’s throw from Little 5 Points. But I’ve been to over three dozen shows at Dad’s North Highland Avenue location in midtown, and have yet to be disappointed.

So after a two-year absence, I returned to Dad’s Garage Saturday night to see an improv double-feature — Lethal-er Weapon, mocking the buddy cop drama formula, and Mucho Mas, which poked fun at over-the-top Mexican soap operas.

When it comes to improv, you want your actors to be quick on their toes, but it's a simple fact that some people are quicker with that wit than others.

Kevin Gilles — the artistic director at Dad's — is an improv natural. He pulled double-duty in the double-feature Saturday, playing heavily accented bad guys each time — first as a Russian national with a devious plan to take down the country via an illegal hacky sack ring, and then the leader of the Mexican Mafia and father to two very annoying daughters.

Though Gilles’s comedic timing is a thing of beauty, its how he and the other actors are able to respond to each other that keeps the story moving.

The true appeal of watching improv isn't just listening to the jokes that fly back and forth across the stage, it's watching the actors respond to each other when they get tripped up or make mistakes.

Dad’s Garage founder Matt Stanton played lead roles in both 'episodes', but provided most of these snarled situations, giving his fellow improvisers a real moment to shine in some of the funniest sequences of the evening.

"What was it like when the wall fell?" Stanton asked Gilles' nameless Russian bad guy in Lethal-er Weapon. "It was fine," Gilles replied. "I was in Russia at the time. It might have been different if I were in Berlin, where the wall actually was."

It's moments like these that remind the audience that, at Dad's, you're in on the gag.

Ed Morgan — the spitting image of "Saturday Night Live" actor Seth Meyers as an awkward teen — played several characters throughout the evening, including a pleasant teenage athlete, a sarcastic bartender, an overly-concerned Mexican mother (with the help of a prop wig) and an X-box-obsessed stoner. Morgan breaks down that fourth wall with self-aware comments in many of his scenes, noting at one point, "Wow. Am I really talking about the ephemeral nature of springtime weather? This is a really deep conversation for a 17-year-old to be having."

Even better than the improvisers' meta-theatrical comments were the fearless way they approached telling their tales in the hour and a half performance. It was clear that no one involved in Mucho Mas remembered much from their high school Spanish classes.

When Stanton's young rebel asked the 15-year-old Mexican Mafia princess love interest played by Linnea Frye for her name —"¿Como es nombre?" — Frye responded by beginning her telephone number.

I laughed the entire way through the double-feature, even though the actors really hit their mark in their first act. That’s the good and bad part about improv at Dad’s — no matter how many times you go, you’ll never see the same show twice.