November 12th — December 19th, 1999
Written by: Tadeusz Rozewizc
Translated by: Adam Czerniawski
Directed by: Frédérique Michel
Production Design by: Charles A. Duncombe, Jr.
Cast: Annette Culp, Jennifer Dion, Richard Grove, Justine Klineman, Katerina Lejona, Jonathan Liebhold, Cynthia Mance, Laura McCann, Eileen O’Connell, Bo Roberts, Cheryl Scaccio, Erin Vincent, Gene Williams
Los Angeles Times
review by Philip Brandes
“A surreal erotic fable chock full of Freudian themes and imagery, “Marriage Blanc” (White Wedding) is a good fit for the libido-drenched avant antics of Santa Monica’s City Garage. Nudity, emotional confrontation, socio-political satire and absurdism abound in this tale of a girl’s frightened resistance to an arranged marriage and her own emerging womanhood. But Tadeusz Rozewizc’s wry allegory also lets the ensemble demonstrate its facility with more traditional performance and stagecraft, thanks to linear narrative, continuity of character, and turn-of-the-century setting.
In a striking departure from the company’s frequent forays into stark, existential modernism, production designer Charles A. Duncombe Jr’s ornate period scenery and warm-hued lighting prove well-suited to the 1968 play’s deliberate construction as a distant fairy tale — necessary to avoid censorship in the playwright’s native Poland.
Cynthia Mance gives a sympathetic, multilayered central performance as Bianca, a tom-boy whose terror of sexuality manifests itself in fanciful visions almost as strange as her peculiar family. Particularly effective are her philandering father (Richard Grove), who furtively chases the domestic help; her uptight mother (Katherina Lejona), who derives her only sexual gratification reciting mail-order catalogs for china and undergarments; and her lecherous grandfather (Gene Williams), who has no qualms about preying on his own descendants.
Initial naturalistic presentation gives way to increasingly menacing hallucinations that torment Bianca with the approach of her marriage to a pompous, inexperienced poet (Jonathan Liebhold), who appears to be sporting a phallic mushroom with angry red cap; the other males follow suit and ultimately mutate via animal masks into grunting beasts at the wedding feast.
Metaphorically extending paternalistic sexual dominance into the political sphere with a thinly veiled assault on government, Rozewizc’s point doesn’t require quite this extended a treatment. Despite director Frédérique Michel’s often inventive flourishes, the final third bogs down in restatement but redeems itself with a haunting finale.”
Beverly Hills Outlook Online Magazine
review by Charles Lonberger
“On November 14th, in the rarified ambience of Santa Monica’s City Garage, amidst the smell of sawdust and the taste of wine, the City Garage Theater troop presented a good-humored version of Tadeusz Rosewicz’s whimsical “White Wedding” (Marriage Blanc), a play of quirky, imaginative and coherent greatness.
The production itself, which was dedicated to Jan Kott, was notable for the open and wide breath of Charles Duncombe’s sets and costuming of Michele Gingembre and Eric Vincent that convincing]y recalled the epoch in which the action was placed, and for the brilliant, eccentric and eclectic direction of company director Frédérique Michel, whose work has, in the past, not always been untouched by the polemic, but who was here consistently on the mark, calling on the songs of birds and crickets, chants and the sounds of a summer rain amid a riot of phallic mushrooms and virile masked beasts, in bemusedly bringing this tale of the Ribald Power of Life to life.
The cast, which included many company debuts among them, was uniformly outstanding, and set a new level of ensemble achievement at this venue. In particular, Cynthia Mance’s Bianca was a creation of brilliant, believable hysterics, a powerful glue that held the entire production together, and was well-played off against the healthy, robust earthiness of Erin Vincent’s Pauline, who gave us a glorious St. Verbona sequence. As their father, Richard Grove was invigoratingly lecherous, while Katharina Lejona brought a pinched frigidity to the role of their other. The part of the Aunt was fleshed out to its fullest capacity by Cheryl Scaccio. Gene Williams’ grandfather was a work of great acting depth, resonant and of deep substance. Also exceptional was Jennifer Dion as the cook, who imbued her potential throwaway part with the Force of Life itself. Laura McCann’s Ghost of the Grandmother was read with a melodious cadence, while Jonathan Liebhold lend a dazed David Manners touch to his work as Benjamin. The whole of this production perfectly meshed in delivering a particularly riveting confessional scene, an inspired marriage of text, cast, and direction that well served the exceptional translation of Adam Czerniawski.
A visual motif running throughout the drama like an invisible commentary were Annette Culp, Eileen O’Connell, and Justine Kleinman as Maids who at times cavorted in and out of the shadows like figures from Matisse, while, at other times, silently stalking the stage.
Readers of this publication are strongly advised to keep a close eye on this venue near the beach. Their productions, while not uniformly successful, are always thought provoking and well mounted, giving local audiences an early view of European trends in contemporary theater.”
Pre-Paradise Sorry Now
Fall 1999
Written by: Rainer Werner Fassbinder
Directed by: Frédérique Michel
Production Design by: Charles A. Duncombe, Jr.
Cast: Tatiana Alvarez, Ruth Crossley, Greg Hecht, Andrea Isco, Jonathan Liebhold, Christian Youngmiller, Jody Moschetti, Freddy Nager, Mark Rebernik, Bo Roberts, Paradorn Thiel, Doria Valenzuela, Gustav Vintas
Backstage West
review by Paul Birchall
Director Frédérique Michel’s production of Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s elementally disturbing black comedy is depraved, loathsome, and vile. And, in this unique case, those are all meant to be compliments. Exploring Fassbinder’s bleakly ironic and ghoulishly jaundiced world view through exotic visual spectacle and often surreal imagery, Michel’s staging is unusually well matched with bizarre and over-the-top psychotic text.
Fassbinder’s play is equal parts self-indulgent sleaze fest, penetrating social satire, and Natural Born Killers (The German Version). It’s unfortunate that the show is also entirely hard to stomach: the mix of monsterous acts of cruelty and wince-inducing jags of debased sexuality — presented with a melancholy, jaded insouciance — create a show that is both compelling and disgusting. The production is frequently quite effective at chilling the blood. But it’s certainly not for everyone.
As a video monitor plays a quick-paced montage of clips from appalling slasher movies (all available on video, I believe), we’re treated to a staged biography of serial killer lovers Ian Brady (Jonathan Liebhold) and his girlfriend Myra Hindley (Andrea Isco), who were responsible for a series of torture killings in the 1960s. Brady and Hindley are indeed sick cookies: He happily masturbates to DeSade’s Justine, while she lets herself be whipped senseless for spending her weekly pocket money too quickly. Both sincerely believe themselves to be more highly evolved than the rest of humanity, which by their lights gives them the right to torture their hapless captives to death.
As the pair accomplish their dreadful deeds, the play also focuses on a number of other revolting characters — a transvestite prostitute who gets beat up by her john, two doctors who mercilessly ignore the human test subject they’ve punished into catatonia, and a soldier who is forced to perform push-ups on top of a knife. These blackout sequences are subsequently all repeated, but this time with the tortured person playing the oppressor, and vice versa.
Michel stages the play’s cruelty with an eye for detail that’s simultaneously horrifying and humorous. The performances crackle with intensity and venom, particularly Liebhold’s cooly restrained Brady and Isco’s creepily devoted Myra. Also amusingly grotesque in supporting roles are Greg Hecht, as an extremely lurid male stripper, and Gustav Vintas, doing his dead-on Maurice Chevalier impersonation as the consummately creepy narrator.
Calling Pre-Paradise Sorry Now unwholesome is like saying the Son of Sam was mildly irritated. This is a deeply distasteful and provocative show.”
The Shepard Project – Early Works by Sam Shepard
March to May 2, 1999
Chicago
Icarus’s Mother
Killer’s Head
Four H Club
Written by: Sam Shepard
Chicago, Icarus’s Mother, Killer’s Head directed by: Frédérique Michel
Four H Club directed by Stephen Pocock
Production Design by: Charles A. Duncombe, Jr.
Produced by: Stephen Pocock
Cast: Carlos Alvarado, Jeff Boyer, Scott Collins, Liz Davies, Jeff Decker, Andrea Isco, Paul Rubenstein, Shan Serafin, Leonard Shields, Raquel Silva
LA Times
Emotional ‘Shepard Project’ Shows Playwright as a Work-in-Progress
April 16, 1999
By. F. KATHLEEN FOLEY
Bristling with youthful experimentation, “The Shepard Project: The Early Works of Sam Shepard” at City Garage gives a fascinating glimpse into Shepard’s artistic progression. For anyone not a die-hard Shepard fan, however, the works are limited in scope and execution, punk playlets by an unformed writer who had not yet found his voice, performed by actors not always sure of theirs.
The characters in all four pieces are emotionally isolated losers with elemental longings–for the sea, for the sky, for the wide open spaces of the American West. The opener, “Chicago,” ably helmed by Frederique Michel, is essentially an absurdist monologue delivered in a bathtub (or perhaps it is a docked boat) by a heavily tattooed man (Stephen Pocock) whose lover (Liz Davies) is leaving him.
The most wickedly funny piece of the evening, “4-H Club,” directed by Pocock, concerns three hormonally fueled young men (Carlos Alvarado, Paul Rubenstein and Shan Serafin) who share the unfettered destructive capacity of children. These guys are geniuses at smashing things, but when it comes to anything constructive–like picking up their mosh pit of an apartment–they are helpless.
Michel also directs “Icarus’s Mother,” in which a quintet of holiday picnickers (Jeff Boyer, Andrea Isco, Raquel Silva, Jeff Decker and Alvarado) play twisted mind games until interrupted by a spectacular air disaster. Evocative of Ambrose Bierce, “Killer’s Head,” the closer, also staged by Michel, features F. Scott Collins as a condemned cowboy who dreams of the open range in the moments before his electrocution. The metal headgear Collins wears entirely obscures his eyes–a serious shortcoming in a one-character play. Otherwise, Charles A. Duncombe Jr.’s austere production design is highly effective.
Journeys Among the Dead
January 29 — March 14, 1999
Written by: Eugene Ionesco
Translated by: Barbara Wright
Directed by: Frédérique Michel
Production Design by: Charles A. Duncombe, Jr.
Produced by: Steven Pocock
Cast: Strawn Bovee, Jennifer Dion, Scott Donovan, Joel Drazner, Richard Grove, Patricia Raquel Lopez, Anna Pond, Valerie Ramirez, Bo Roberts, Paul Rubenstein
Backstage West
18 February 1999
Review by Anne Louise Bannon
“It’s seldom that I run across something as difficult to describe as Journeys Among the Dead, Eugene Ionesco’s autobiographical last play. The City Garage’s production, directed by Frederique Michel, is compelling, beautifully paced, nicely performed for the most part, and yet… How do you wrap words around what is essentially an old man’s dream journey to find his mother and confront the guilt and anger that has plagued him since childhood? Simple enough to say, but it doesn’t quite convey what seeing this play is like.
Do read the excellent program notes. They provide the factual background and give a little structure to the performance. If you’re a fan of Jungian dream analysis, or even Freudian analysis, go to town.
While this is an ensemble piece, it is held together by the old poet named Jean — essentially Ionesco. Richard Grove gives the old man a tenderness and sense of wonder not easily accomplished, since the emotional throughlines are seldom clear from the text. Grove’s work with the young Jean, Paul Rubenstein, is seamless. The two seem to have a single vision for the character and it works well. But Scott Donovan, as Jean’s father, occasionally falls a little flat. The rest of the ensemble holds up nicely, with some lovely performances by Stawn Bovee as Jean’s mother and Jean’s grandmother, Patricia Raquel Lopez as Jean’s stepmothre, and Valerie Ramirez in her role as Violette.
Charles A. Duncombe Jr has outdone even himself with his lighting and particularly his sound design, pulling together sound effects and music that feed the production as a whole, as opposed to overpowering it, as so often happens. He also did the very simple but effective set.
Probably the highest achievement belongs to Michel. You have to assume that some of the bits and action were directed in, but it is really hard to tell what came from the script’s stage dircetions and what was Michel’s work. Michel is an extremely intellectual director, and her work serves this piece very well. Even better is the way she paces the play: one of the difficulties of Theatre of the Absurd is that it has the capacity to be relentlessly boring. Michel takes time where it’s warranted, but lets things run at a nice clip otherwise.
It’s not the easiest play on the planet to do well. City Garage has done it well.”