Kick Ass Heroine: Divergent

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

I understand the draw of teen lit. They're page turners that appeal to the heightened, hormone-fueled emotions of your younger years. The world sucks, you're different--special!--and one day everyone will see that! Teens might not live in a post-apocalyptic hell hole, but I'm sure high school feels like it sometimes.

Divergent is the latest female-lead, post-apocalyptic action series, and yes, it's a lot like The Hunger Games. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Set in Chicago, in an unspecific future, but at least 100 years after a war has left the world in ruins, this version of the windy city is surrounded by a large electric fence, to protect it from...well, perhaps we'll find that out in the sequels.

Society has been divided into five "factions." Of course, these factions bear some resemblance to current professions, or at least they did to me. You've got the "honest" Candor (lawyers); the "intelligent" Erudite (scientists); the "peaceful" Amity (hippies); the "brave" Dauntless (military); and the "selfless" Abnegation (non-profits). Not sure where those who write dystopian books and movies would fit in. Perhaps they're part of the "Factionless" (homeless)?

Our heroine, Beatrice (Shailene Woodley), was born into Abnegation, the faction that, because they are selfless, does most of the governing. Her father is high up in the political ranks, (which makes sense, since he's played by Tony "I'm the PRESIDENT!" Goldwyn), but Beatrice is drawn to the black-leather-clad, running-through-the-streets, climbing-buildings-while-shrieking assholes that are Dauntless.

This societal division is designed to keep order and peace. People are born into their factions, but when they reach their teen years they take a personality test that reveals if they are made for the faction they were born into, or destined for another. Post test, they can go with the faction they were destined for...or choose the one they want to belong to, the catch being, once they choose, they can never go back.

But Beatrice's test results are inconclusive. They reveal she is more than one faction; she is "divergent." And this is a bad thing. She is told to keep this a secret, or risk losing her life.

Does Beatrice choose to stay in boring, gray Abnegation? Well, she's wearing black leather on the poster; it's not a spoiler to say she joins the cool kids. And she goes by "Tris" now, thanks.

The middle section of this admittedly overlong movie is a series of training rituals: hand-to-hand combat, target practice, knife-throwing, psychedelic drug tests that reveal your deepest fears. Friendships are forged, (Zoe Kravitz does a nice job as Tris's gal pal, Christina), and enemies made. (Though why they chose to cast three men who look EXACTLY alike as Tris's friends and foe remains a baffler.)

But what would a dystopian teen adventure be without a love interest? Not the new Hunger Games, that's for sure! And thankfully, we've got a better guy to look at than that milquetoast Peta (isn't he the worst?!). Our heroine's eye candy is a Dauntless trainer who goes by "Four," and he's played by Theo James, who "Downton Abbey" fans may recognize as the Turkish guest Mary kills with her vagina.

The movie follows a formula, and there aren't a lot of surprises. But I have to say, I liked it more than the first Hunger Games. The set-up is just slightly less ridiculous, the camera work less "cameraman with palsy," and the corrupt government conspiracy is a little more believable. Plus, that evil Faction is headed by another woman, played by Kate Winslet, (doing her usual terrible American accent).

It's going to take more than The Hunger Games and Divergent to erase the horrors of Twilight and its nightmarish messages about sticking with abusive assholes who can't control their rage. But I'm glad we're moving along, and Hollywood is giving teens some kick-ass heroines--saving dudes in distress!--to emulate.

Completely Crazy: Cirque Dreams Holidaze

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

Before attending the San Francisco premiere of Cirque Dreams Holidaze, I had dinner down the street at Cafe Royale. (Just OK; my coq au vin was very dry and needed salt.) While leaving the restaurant, I slipped down a short flight of stairs, and my spike heel tore through the hem of my dress.

Yes, I was on my way to watch people walk tightropes, flip through the air, and balance on shaky objects, and I couldn't even leave a restaurant without falling down. But my pratfall was not the evening's most cringe-inducing moment.

What can be said about the Cirque Dreams series of shows that can truly explain how jaw-dropping they are? They have eleven of these, touring around the world, all with different themes, (I'm dying to see Cirque Dreams Dinner!), with this one themed around Christmas.

In short, it's what I imagine a meth addict might dream were he to pass out under the Christmas decorations in a strip club.

Before the start of the performance, an announcement comes over the PA asking that the audience not film or take flash photos, lest they distract the performers as they go about their death-defying routines. What they don't say is that those performers are going to be distracted enough by the endless stream of insanity that prances before and behind them on stage.

As the curtain opens, you see a stage filled with inflatable candy canes, a larger than life toy train, glittery stars, a Christmas tree of lights and crystals, a backdrop featuring a crescent moon, giant presents, and a constant stream of costumed characters of various crazy creations.

Three singing performers are the "hosts" through the fever dream, singing both classic and not-so-classic Christmas carols.

Also, the painted ceiling over the stage looked like vaginas with faces. And yet, that's NOT the craziest thing to appear on stage that night!

Actually, it's hard to pin down just what WAS the craziest thing on stage. Perhaps it was the weird guy with a giant crescent moon head, who crept onto the stage during one of the female acrobat's performances, climbed the Christmas tree, and leered down at her performance, only to silently slink off once she was done.

Or maybe it was the slithering candy canes that looked like crunched up drinking straw wrappers come to life, doing this weird, worm-like crawl across the stage, behind the leaping gingerbread men.

Or maybe it was the 10-foot-tall bopping snowmen with weirdly phallic bouncing carrot noses.

The point is, there is such a constant, CONSTANT parade of action going on during the entire show--along with non-stop music straight out of a 90's direct-to-video movie--that it's often hard to concentrate on the real stars of the show: the amazing acrobats.

And they really are amazing. I was able to keep my eyes on a few long enough to pick out some favorites. The standouts were definitely the younger performers, including the two "gingerbread men," (Samail Haftu and Amanual Hayle), who did some terrific paired leaps, flips, and twists. Another standout was a young girl, (Alexandra Koroleva), who played a marionette and a child who visits Santa. (I'm convinced she has no bones or cartilage in her body. That's the only explanation for such flexibility.)

I also loved the "fashionista" (Olga Smirnova) who did about a dozen instantaneous costume changes that were spectacular. I know it's just well placed Velcro and quick release straps, but "magic" costume changes will never cease to delight me.

Not everything went off without a hitch. One of the performers (Victor Dodonov), dressed as a sparkly penguin, piled up a number of wobbly items he had to balance on, reaching a pinnacle of about six. His first attempt failed, so the audience cheered for a second attempt. And, bless that sparkly penguin, but that second try failed as well. I'm pretty sure the audience was willing to just let this stunt pass, but the penguin wasn't, so he went for it one more time.

Which leads me to believe that Cirque Dreams performers must be shot after the show if they don't perform up to snuff, so adamant was that penguin to get that stunt done. (Don't worry, the penguin's still alive; third time's the charm!)

The show ends with the most inappropriate use of the song "O Holy Night," ever. Unless a song about the birth of the baby Jesus is standard musical backdrop for creepily sexual man/woman trapeze routines. I don't know, maybe it's just me, but I don't like looking at a shiny, half naked man (granted, an amazingly well built shiny, half naked man), while hearing about our dear savior's birth.

On Jerry Seinfeld's web series "Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee," guest Brian Regan has a bit about how the Cirque du Soleil boss has basically never said no to any idea ever tossed at him. "Elephants painted gold, and they come in with helicopter launching pads on their backs, and helicopters land, and monkeys come out and play kazoos?" "...YES!"

So, while there are no elephants or monkeys in Cirque Dreams Holidaze, there is more than enough stuff almost as crazy. You won't be bored. But keep in mind, this ain't a chamber drama. This is more like the theatrical performance John Merrick gets taken to in The Elephant Man.

Basically, Liberace would likely have come away from it saying, "You know what guys? Take it down a notch."

Amazing Grace: Philomena

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

Philomena is one of those "based on a true story" movies that seem to flood theaters at the end of the year. The majority of them are Oscar-ready, and Philomena is no different. After all, it features Dame Judi Dench as an elderly Irish woman on a quest to find the son she was forced to give up for adoption 50 years prior. Can't get more Oscar "for your consideration" than that, right? Steve Coogan costars as the cynical journalist who agrees to help her out, hopefully resulting in a "human interest story" that might get him back into print after a political and journalistic scandal.

I'll admit I didn't have high hopes going into the movie, which is ironic since I basically had the same shortsighted misgivings Coogan's Martin Sixsmith has when the story is first pitched to him. To Sixsmith, human interest stories are simple tales about "weak-minded and ignorant people," written for the same weak-minded and ignorant people to read.

But almost as quickly as Sixsmith changes his mind about writing Philomena's story (and it's pretty quick indeed), I knew the movie was going to be better than mere sappy Oscar bait. And it's thanks to Dench and Coogan that it is.

Judi Dench's Philomena is an Irish Catholic who still attends church, goes to confession, and suffers the guilt of her youthful indiscretion. As a teenager she gots pregnant, and her father sent her to a convent where she gives birth, (in a breech delivery, without painkillers), and then has to work seven days a week in the laundry room to "atone" for her sin. Her son is given up for adoption, and Philomena was never allowed to say goodbye, or learn anything about her child's adopted family.

It turns out hers is an all-to-common story, as Catholic organizations in Ireland were basically selling the children of unwed mothers for decades, all under the blessing of the Catholic church.

Dench plays Philomena as simple, on the surface--with a love of romance novels, salad bars, and the amenities found in your average hotel room--but just below, she's full of contradictions, and is much more worldly than either the audience or Sixsmith suspects.

Steve Coogan co-wrote the screenplay and produced the film, and he was smart to recognize how his comedic presence would help balance a movie that could easily fall into maudlin territory. His droll sense of humor plays perfectly against Dench's wide-eyed whimsy.

If I'm being vague about the details of their journey to find Philomena's son--which eventually takes them to America--it's because the story takes a lot of unexpected turns, and the surprises are worth keeping under wraps. But I will say it is at times very sad, but is tempered by some genuine moments of comedy. Sure, some of those are the kinds of laughs you'd expect from an "old lady and younger guy go on a road trip together" scenario. But the better laughs come from Philomena and the unexpected revelations of her character.

If there's one area the story falters, it's when Sixsmith stands firmly in his atheist shoes, mocking Philomena's steadfast faith in the face of utter evil and hypocrisy in the Catholic church. Unsurprisingly, the San Francisco audience I viewed it with clapped any time Martin cut down the church. But they were silent when Philomena demonstrates an amazing moment of forgiveness.

Make no mistake, the so-called Catholics Philomena had to deal with were evil. But Philomena is living proof that amazing grace can still be found within the realms of religious faith.

Controversial Classic: Porgy and Bess

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

Ira and George Gershwin's Porgy and Bess is a classic and historical opera not without its share of controversies, dating back to its 1935 premiere. In some ways, it was a very bold bit of theater, featuring a cast of almost entirely African American characters, performing a musical style of singing (opera) normally dominated by white performers, in a score created by a white guy, utilizing a black form of music (jazz).

George Gershwin also insisted that the lead roles only ever be played by black actors, at least in U.S. productions. While kind of an obvious insistence to make, it was still pretty ballsy for its time.

Still, we're dealing with a story about black characters, written by white men in the 1930s. Racist undertones are going to exist, which is why for many years, very prominent black artists were loath to perform in it. (Harry Belefonte famously refused the role of Porgy in the 1959 movie version, so the role went to Sydney Poitier instead.)

The current retelling, which makes its San Francisco debut at the Golden Gate Theater, first premiered on Broadway in 2012, and went on to win a Tony for best revival. But this retelling has its own set of controversies. Director Diane Paulus and writer Suzan-Lori Parks abridged the opera, and changed the all-singing aspect by adding some spoken parts, making it more of a theatrical musical than an opera.

They also added some depth to the character of Bess, who could often come across as a one note victim, and they've done their best to update the more blatantly caricatured aspects for some of the characters and dialogue. But some of these changes didn't sit well with some purists, who deemed it sacrilege to mess with the Gershwins' work.

But, a faithful adaptation done today could be laughable at best, and downright offensive at worst. I understand the desire to respect an artist's original work. But history changes, and sometimes art should reflect those changes. It's easier to appreciate a work as being "of its time," when it's actually from that time, like a movie. But when you are reproducing that work, and don't have to repeat the embarrassing caricatures of its day, why should you have to?

All that said, I can still see the basic plot raising hackles. Set in 1930's South Carolina, on a waterside stretch of housing known as Catfish Row, the musical focuses on a community that consists of husbands, wives, and fishermen, but also drunks, drug pushers, and beggars.

Porgy is the beggar. Deformed since birth, he walks with a limp and a cane. At the time, begging is the only real option a man like him would have to earn a living.

Bess falls into the "drunk" category, or, as one of the Catfish Row denizens deems her, "a liquor-guzzling slut." She's beholden to a heavy drinker and drug user named Crown, and they both get their "happy dust," (the almost too precious nickname for cocaine) from the pusher and player named Sportin' Life.

When Crown kills a man, Bess seeks solace in the arms of Porgy, and the two broken souls fall in love. But Crown isn't gone for good, and Sportin' Life always seems to be lurking just around the corner...

Audra McDonald won a Tony for her portrayal as Bess on Broadway, but Alicia Hall Moran has taken on the role for the touring production, and while she doesn't quite have the acting chops of McDonald, she's definitely got a terrific voice. Her duets with Porgy are some of the best moments of the show, particularly during "I Loves You, Porgy."

Nathaniel Stampley is Porgy, and he's heartbreaking. He definitely conveys Porgy's sadness and "smiling in the face of hardship" demeanor, but he can be a bit unconvincing when it comes to showing his bubbling rage. As a result, a moment of violence feels more like an accident than something that's been brewing up inside of him.

The supporting cast is large, but a stand-out is Danielle Lee Greaves as the tough-talking Mariah. Her condemnation of Sportin' Life in the form of the song "I Hate Your Strutting Style" was probably the biggest crowd-pleaser of the night.

There are moments when the blend of opera and musical theatricality become an odd fit. This usually occurs when you have the entire cast just standing there, singing; that's the opera. Then there are other moments when the entire cast will bust out a (genuinely terrific) dance routine; that's the musical. There's a separation of styles, when it really should be blended a bit more seamlessly.

And there are also moments that are just plain slow, and if it's slow in a paired down two-plus-hours version, I'd be a little apprehensive to see the full-fledged operatic version. Purists may come away from this production shaking their head, but I think it's a fine way to be introduced to this classic and spend an evening listening to some of the most memorable "showtunes" ever written.

A Real Sense Of Magic: Peter And The Starcatcher

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

Peter and the Starcatcher is an odd bit of theater. Not exactly a musical, although it has a few musical numbers. Not exactly a child's play, although it is a prequel to the classic tale of Peter Pan. It fits in an odd space between "serious" theater and light comedy.

Set on a minimal stage, with the large cast of twelve serving as characters, props, special effects, and narrators, the first act takes place on two ships. The exposition for this first act is a little murky, and it took me a good 15 minutes before I could get what was going on, but the gist is: on one ship there is the precocious young Molly, (Megan Stern), her nanny, (Benjamin Schrader--aside from Stern, the cast is all male), and three orphans who are being kept on board as slaves. On another ship is Molly's father, Lord Astor, (Nathan Hosner), and the soon-to-be-revealed villain. And both ships are filled with your requisite crew of salty seamen or nasty pirates.

I am not quite sure why Molly and her father are on two separate ships, but it has something to do with a precious cargo trunk the father is trying to keep out of evil hands. Molly is well aware that this trunk contains "starstuff," a magical MacGuffin that manages to do basically any kind of magic that is required by the play at any given moment, and vows to keep it safe.

One of the three orphaned boys is simply known as Boy (Joey deBettencourt), and Molly takes a fancy to him. Eventually he gets a name--guess what it is--and joins Molly on her quest to save the starstuff.

While Peter may be the hero of that later, better-known story, the stand-out characters here are Molly--a plucky, smart young heroine--and the villain, known, at least for the majority of the play, as Black Stache. He's the comedic center of the show, and as played by John Sanders, he's like a dandy Groucho Marx, often breaking the fourth wall, (and in one of the show's comedic highlights, freaking out behind it), spouting malapropisms, and tossing out anachronistic, pop culture-filled punch lines.

It's there that the comedy can often fall flat, delving very closely into Robin Williams in Aladdin territory. Some of these jokes are so stale--a Kelis "Milkshake" reference? Really?--I just hope that if the show continues to run for years to come, they refresh those references a bit.

One thing I hope they never change is the second act's opening number, featuring the cast as singing mermaids, dressed in ingenious costumes featuring fans-as-fins, and other kinds of junk one might find at home (or floating in the sea), including a crown of baby doll legs and bras made out of juicers and tea cups.

While I'll always be a bigger fan of movies than I am of live theater, I do appreciate when theater does things that just can't be done in a movie. Casting adults as kids, for example, is something that you can get away with in the distance of theater, but in a film would likely come across as creepy and off-putting, requiring the casting of real children who probably wouldn't have the chops to handle the comedy.

And having the cast create waves out of shaking ropes, a giant crocodile out of a string of white flags and red lanterns, and creaking doors with their bodies is something that could only be done in theater. It's things like this that give live theater a real sense of magic--a throwback to childhood play and storytelling that fits perfectly in Peter and the Starcatcher.