Tag Archives: Kate McGee

Bowl EP

I am not young, black, gay, or well acquainted with club drugs. What I am is a fierce advocate for theater as an art and communication form. Being in a performance space filled with 20-somethings who are stomping, clapping, hooting, and laughing, even while relating strongly to Morales trying to feel like an ice cream cone, was thrilling. That was my recent experience at a matinee of Nazareth Hassan’s Bowl EP, a joint production of Vineyard Theatre and National Black Theatre in association with The New Group.

If you are a fossil like me, you remember Extended Plays or EPs as the record albums comprised of a few songs. These days they are used by artists to stay on the charts while they are working on larger musical projects.  Bowl EP begins with short “tracks,” the titles of which are projected around the sides of the “bowl,” an empty swimming pool that Quentavius da Quitter (Oghenero Gbaje) and Kelly K Klarkson  (Essence Lotus) use for skateboarding… and other activities.  Similar to that short form, the scenes are performed by the same pair, but don’t firmly connect in style or content.

Also like an EP, much of what the two say to each other has more of the quality of song lyrics than naturalistic dialogue: abstract and disconnected, yet deeply emotional. They never call each other by name and there are no characters listed in the program.  They talk very little about their lives away from this space as if there is no meaningful world away from the bowl.   It’s even hard to tell how long they’ve known each other.  The exchanges do produce a recurring cycle: flirtation, overt sexuality, and comic relief as they try come up with a name for their nascent rap duo.  Their “yums” are quite different, but each one is greeted with acceptance.

At a turning point Kelly — bedecked in wrap skirt over jeans and a sparkling baby-T (costumes by DeShon Elem) — mentions a cathartic therapy session during which she was able to vomit up her demon and become her.  Then during an intensely intimate act she is able to do the same for Quint.  The demon expelled into the pool is the high energy Lemon Pepper Wings (Felicia Curry).  From here, this pan-gender all-knowing character with oversized anime head, pink and purple frills, beat up teddybear backpack and a heart shaped tailed, takes over.  The rapid “tunes” are replaced by a relentless tirade akin to a drum solo as he/she/they shares Quint and Kelly’s relationship past and future in gory detail, personally involving the audience as well.  (Shout out to the stage managers who facilitate the magic.)

Essence Lotus and Oghenero Gbaje in Bowl EP; Photo by Carol Rosegg

Much thought has gone into transforming the venue for this unusual work.  Seating is in the round and blocked off from the stage with chain link fencing.  Playwright Hassan follows the flow of his words in the actors’ movement accented by Teniece Divya Johnson’s fight and intimacy choreography.  Scenic design team Adam Rigg & Anton Volovsek have created a gorgeous curvaceous pool in peaceful sea-foam complete with useful ladders and a diving board to contain the ferocity of the action.  Kate McGee’s lighting simulates street lamps and headlights until the colorful shift to the unconscious.  The projections as designed by Zavier Augustus Lee Taylor telegraph the intensity and vibe of each beat with the formation of the lettering.  Music by Judah “Free Fool” Girvan caps the undertaking, even effectively incorporating some of the lyrics devised in earlier chapters.

Intentionally and undeniably different, Bowl EP continues through June 22 at the Vineyard Theatre, 108 East 15th near Union Square.  Runtime is 80 minutes without intermission. Tickets are available at https://vineyardtheatre.org/shows/bowl/  beginning at $37.80.  Seating is unique and a look at the chart is helpful in selecting your preferred location.  ADA seating is available in the North section.  A joint fundraising initiative is striving to provide tickets to first-time theatergoers, though if this production was on film the content would likely be rated M for violence and sexuality. The venue continues to offer two masked performances per run, honoring their commitment to make theater accessible to everyone.

Original Sound

Danny — a spunky young Puerto Rican musician with a knack for creating earworms — uploads his diss track poking fun at pop phenom Ryan Reed.  Stumbling across the piece, the blocked Ms. Reed isn’t so hurt that she can’t seize the opportunity to steal Danny’s best song and recorded it for her new album.  Their heated decisions set in motion Original Sound, an engaging and emotional play with music by Adam Seidel. The events were inspired by his previous job as a Chicago-based hip-hop journalist.  In order to keep his work to a tight 95 minutes, Seidel can’t completely avoid the inclusion of music industry tropes.  Anyone who keeps up with that world will see echoes of recent headlines, from the cathartic 22-years-in-the-making Verve settlement to the unexpected collaboration of Lil Nas X with Billy Ray Cyrus to gain acceptance in a different genre.  Yet Seidel also skillfully mines even more interesting territory covering the potentially destructive role of power in the creative process.  What happens when your so-called self-expression is no longer your own?

OriginalSound

Jane Bruce and Sebastian Chacon in Original Sound; photo by Russ Rowland

The strong back beat of the plot is built atop the complex relationship that develops between Danny and Ryan.  Neither is completely in the wrong, which sets up a fascinating dynamic.  The supporting characters each heighten important story elements.  Danny’s sister Felicia attempts to be supportive.  He more easily receives encouragement from his friend Kari, a business school dropout who strives to keep him safe in an exploitative industry.  Ryan is backed by her well-intentioned manager Jake and a team of unseen studio producers and executives.  A sign of the script’s sophistication is that it is possible to experience both hope and sadness at the end of their shared journey.

Sebastian Chacon brings genuine warmth and exuberance to Danny.  (It is fitting to witness the young actor leave the theater with headphones on and a skateboard tucked under his arm.)   He is beautifully balanced by singer-songwriter and actress Jane Bruce’s Ryan, by turns stubborn, guarded, and freed by music.  Anthony Arkin plays Jake with credible matter-of-factness.  Countering is Lio Mehiel’s sensitive interpretation of Kari, though it seems a missed opportunity not to present the character as non-binary.  The production’s shortcoming is not providing Cynthia Bastidas and Wilson Jermaine Heredia enough to work with in their critical turns as Danny’s sister and father.

Director Elena Araoz generally keeps the energy high, all the better to shock the audience with quieter moments. The spirited scene is set by Justin Townsend, who cleverly echoes the look of LPs  further enhanced by lighting designer Kate McGee’s dance floor elements.  An array of imaginative t-shirts and power booties are provided by Sarita Fellows.  But it is the music that appropriately takes center stage in the production’s design. Both Chacon and Bruce perform the songs live.  The catchy hits are written by Daniel Ocanto, Ms. Bruce and Mr. Seidel.  An improvised solo was originally created by musical artist Armen Dolelian from diverse influences.  Additional sound design is provided by Nathan Leigh.

Like a tune recorded by multiple artists, each player in Original Sound goes through variations of their own central theme.  It makes for a stirring experience for lovers of emerging works.  Original Sound plays through June 8th in The Studio at the Cherry Lane Theatre in Greenwich Village.  Set 3/4 round in this small house, there are no bad seats.  Tickets are $55-$85 and are available by visiting CherryLaneTheatre.org, by calling 866-811-4111 or by visiting the Cherry Lane Theatre Box Office.