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    2020: A Theater of the Absurd for Europe’s Playhouses

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main story2020: A Theater of the Absurd for Europe’s PlayhousesThe Times’s theater critics in London, Paris and Berlin reflect on a year of closures, reopenings, restrictions and curfews, in which the show somehow went on.At the National Theater in London in September. The city’s theaters were closed and reopened twice in 2020, then closed a third time.Credit…Lauren Fleishman for The New York TimesDec. 17, 2020Updated 12:39 p.m. ETBritainMatt Wolf, London Theater CriticTheater of the absurd has nothing on the bizarre scenario endured by Britain’s playhouses during 2020. March 16 was the first of several doomsdays on which the coronavirus pandemic forced them to close their doors, bringing to a halt a theatrical economy worth billions of pounds.Then came months of nothing, followed by the gradual emergence of outdoor shows, then indoor performances, when financially practical: no big musicals or Shakespeares, just bite-size plays, performed in auditoriums newly configured to meet government guidelines.Several pioneering venues — the Bridge Theater, in London, pre-eminently — opened again at the end of the summer, but not for long. They, too, were shuttered again by a second lockdown, in early November — albeit a shorter one, which lifted on Dec. 2.This was replaced by a tiered system of geographical restrictions, which meant that theaters in parts of the country were open, while others had to stay shut. In London, this critic’s diary was briefly filled with press night appointments that recalled the halcyon days of old. But now, as of Dec. 16, the city has entered the grim “Tier 3,” and that surge in activity has proved to be short-lived — at least for in-person performances, rather than events streamed via the internet.Theaters have responded to these whiplash changes with a nimbleness that wasn’t in evidence this time last year. (Equally improbable back then was the notion of socially distanced seating, with legroom worthy of an airline’s first class.) Shows have learned to be readily adaptable for online distribution: That was the path taken by “Death of England: Delroy,” the production chosen to reopen the National Theater, in November. Its opening night turned out to be the closing one, too, when the second national lockdown was announced, but it went out on YouTube later that month. That brought Roy Williams and Clint Dyer’s fiery solo play to audiences worldwide, and confirmed the prevailing awareness that smaller was better in these corona times.Playgoers at the Donmar Warehouse for “Blindness,” a reimagining of José Saramago’s 1995 novel as a sound installation heard through headphones.Credit…Helen MaybanksThroughout the pandemic, you had to marvel at the ability of theater people to follow the work, wherever it might lead. Juliet Stevenson, for instance, should by rights have spent much of this year leading the West End transfer of Robert Icke’s production of “The Doctor.” Instead, the stage veteran turned up first as a voice — experienced not live, but via headphones — in the astonishing Simon Stephens aural experience “Blindness,” and then as a droll Lillian Hellman in an online version of a gossipy American play called “Little Wars.” Caryl Churchill, a stalwart presence at the mighty Royal Court, was among the talents assembled for “The Lockdown Plays,” a series of podcasts in which the 82-year-old writer’s ongoing interest in the quietly apocalyptic came to the fore once again.While the last year has shown the folly of forecasts, 2021 would seem to portend better theatrical times ahead. Hopefully, Britain’s head start on the rest of the world with a vaccine suggests a return to cheek-by-jowl seating and full houses sometime next year.Without such confidence, Andrew Lloyd Webber wouldn’t be looking at a start of performances in late April for his new musical “Cinderella,” a major commercial venture set to open in the West End, even as Broadway will remain shuttered until May, at least. David Tennant, Megan Mullally and Adrian Lester are among the star names announced for some London openings during the first half of 2021. Their luster, with luck, will entice possibly wary playgoers to purchase tickets for live performance once again.Sure, we’ve learned to embrace Zoom and YouTube to savor virtual productions, which are preferable to none at all. But London feels ready to return to full theatrical form as soon as conditions allow — and if not? Well, this strange new normal should give Britain’s playwrights something to write about, for a long while to come.FranceLaura Cappelle, Paris Theater CriticOn paper, French theater has been relatively lucky in this pandemic year. Buoyed by high levels of public funding for the arts and rounds of government support, most venues resumed performances between the country’s first lockdown, from March to May, and the second, which started in late October. No major company or theater has been forced to close its doors permanently (yet). That’s more than many Western countries can say.Yet 2020 often felt like “Groundhog Day” — a never-ending grind of closures, reopenings, restrictions and curfews which, based on conversations with artists and administrators, has left many bone tired. Perceived slights to the culture sector, so integral to France’s identity, have bred resentment. While the country’s new culture minister, Roselyne Bachelot, appointed last July, scored points with the sector in the summer and early fall, the planned reopening of theaters and cinemas in December has now been postponed until January at the earliest, and the grumbling has returned.When theaters could welcome audiences, their hit rate seemed higher than in past seasons: Perhaps scarcity heightened the thill. In early October, the Comédie-Française troupe teamed up with the film director Christophe Honoré for “The Guermantes Way,” a Proust adaptation that struck the perfect balance between immersion and irreverence. At the Théâtre Gérard Philipe, Margaux Eskenazi and Alice Carré tackled the legacy of the Algerian decolonization war with great finesse in “And the Heart Is Still Steaming.”Comedy, meanwhile, often felt like a public service. From a warm reinvention of an 18th-century original (Emmanuelle Bayamack-Tam’s “À l’Abordage!”) to the absurd humor of the excellent Chiens de Navarre collective, comedians played their part in keeping us sane.As happened everywhere else, streams of recorded productions mushroomed during the two lockdowns, but these felt like a consolation prize, rather than an area of genuine innovation. French theater is very attached to its extensive network of brick-and-mortar venues, and the priority was to get back to the stage.The cast of “Cabaret Under the Baclonies” performing for residents of the Ehpad Bois de Menuse nursing home in Chalon-sur-Saône, France, on May 26.Credit…Dmitry Kostyukov for The New York TimesOne notable exception was Marion Siéfert’s “Jeanne Dark,” billed as the first French play to be offered live and via Instagram simultaneously. Helena de Laurens, the superb lead, played a teenager who confides in her followers, in a long Instagram Live session, about her Catholic parents and joyless school life.At La Commune in the Paris suburb of Aubervilliers, where it was created in October, the audience witnessed de Laurens filming herself, while Instagram users saw the show in real time on Jeanne’s fictional account. “Jeanne Dark,” which is set to tour in 2021, wryly captures the gap between the two-dimensional feed and reality.This year has been a reminder that our definitions of theater are sometimes too narrow: Performances outside the big urban institutions are part of France’s culture, too. The first show to be staged after the spring lockdown, Léna Bréban’s “Cabaret Under the Balconies,” took place at a nursing home 200 miles from Paris, and I can’t think of a more fulfilling experience this year than sitting with the elderly residents to watch pared-down song and dance numbers after months of isolation.And if events that look a lot like performances are going to take precedence over theaters when coronavirus restrictions are eased, then they should probably be reviewed, too. The whiz-bang productions on offer at the Puy du Fou, a historical theme park, reopened early to much controversy, in June; in late November, the drama of the Catholic Mass returned to France’s churches, though playhouse doors remain shut.A critic’s job doesn’t have to stop when the curtain comes down. All the world’s a stage, after all.Germany and AustriaA.J. Goldmann, Berlin Theater CriticThis was the year when going to the theater became a matter of life and death: Who was willing to risk catching a deadly virus just to enjoy some Shakespeare?In the German-speaking world, as everywhere, theater was among the first causalities of the pandemic. One by one, premieres were canceled, then the festivals, too. It’s still unclear what the fate of all of those productions will be. But luckily, the future of the performing arts themselves doesn’t hang in the balance, as it seems to in other parts of the world.The deep conviction in Germany, Austria and Switzerland that art is valuable to society means that government-sponsored theater, opera and music has had a fighting chance of survival.Over the past nine months, I’ve marveled at the resilience. I’ve been heartened and impressed by the directors, managers and performers who worked creatively with restrictions to keep the show going under challenging circumstances.Quality varied greatly, as it always does, but what mattered most was that companies kept going — even when it meant preforming for a handful of audience members, or just for the cameras. Many playhouses began to cleverly redefine the theatrical experience itself, from developing online formats to performing in unusual locations and configurations. At the same time, streamed theater came of age, although it often sapped the experience of its live wire excitement and vitality.The pandemic forced me to be far less of a roving critic than usual. For the most part, I sheltered in place, in Munich. But summer and early fall, with their relative permissiveness, seem now like some long-ago idyll. Lockdown lifted, and I was free to travel — with P.P.E. and disinfectant, of course.Spectators reflected in mirrors watching Anne-Marie Lux, right, performing a scene in a cloakroom at the Stuttgart State Theaters as part of “We Are Such Stuff as Dreams Are Made On.”Credit…Bernhard WeisIn early June, the Stuttgart State Theaters, in the south of Germany, triumphantly drew back their curtains with a theatrical walkabout that was as momentous as it was meticulously executed. It was, without a doubt, the production of the year. Then came the defiant centenary edition of the Salzburg Festival, in Austria. It deserves a 21-gun salute for realizing its reduced but still formidable installment, which boasted two world premieres in its dramatic program, including one from a Nobel laureate. Subsequent stations for me included Leipzig, Berlin and Hamburg — and then lockdown hit again.Critics are not in the predication business (except, maybe, when it comes to awards), so I’m not going to speculate about what 2021 might bring. In many places, the pandemic has proved a stress test for the arts and culture. Yet the coronavirus has not exposed fault lines and structural problems for the arts in the German-speaking world the way it has in the United States. When the public health crisis is over, there won’t be much need for the theaters, opera houses and orchestras here to “build back better.” That, in itself, is reason for optimism.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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    ‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’ Review: All the Blues That’s Fit to Sing

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyCritic’s pick‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’ Review: All the Blues That’s Fit to SingViola Davis and Chadwick Boseman star in a potent adaptation of August Wilson’s play.Viola Davis stars in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” August Wilson’s 1984 play about a recording session in Chicago in the 1920s.Credit…David Lee/NetflixDec. 17, 2020Updated 11:26 a.m. ETMa Rainey’s Black BottomNYT Critic’s PickDirected by George C. WolfeDrama, MusicR1h 34mFind TicketsWhen you purchase a ticket for an independently reviewed film through our site, we earn an affiliate commission.“White folks don’t understand about the blues,” says the pioneering singer Ma Rainey, as imagined by August Wilson and incarnated by Viola Davis. “They hear it come out, but they don’t know how it got there. They don’t understand that that’s life’s way of talking.”Albert Murray, the great 20th-century philosopher of the blues, put the matter more abstractly. The art of the music’s practitioners, he wrote, involves “confronting, acknowledging and contending with the infernal absurdities and ever-impending frustrations inherent in the nature of all existence by playing with the possibilities that are also there.”“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” Wilson’s 1984 play about a recording session in Chicago in the 1920s, both dramatizes and expresses that duality. Absurdities and frustrations abound, and the lethal, soul-crushing shadow of American racism falls across the musicians and their instruments. The specific and manifold evils of Southern Jim Crow repression and Northern economic exploitation are unavoidable. The members of Ma’s band swap stories of lynching, assault and humiliation, and Ma fights with the white owner of the record label (Jonny Coyne). By the end of the play — a swift hour and a half in George C. Wolfe’s screen adaptation — one man is dead and another has seen all his prospects evaporate.[embedded content]But the sense of play and possibility, the joy and discipline of art, are also, emphatically, there. There in Ma’s big voice and smoldering, slow-rolling charisma. There in the tight swing of the players behind her — Cutler (Colman Domingo) on trombone; Toledo (Glynn Turman) on piano; Slow Drag (Michael Potts) on bass; and an ambitious upstart named Levee (Chadwick Boseman) on cornet. There in the voices and personalities of the actors: Turman’s gravelly wit; Domingo’s avuncular baritone; Boseman’s quicksilver; Davis’s brass. And there above all in the singular music of Wilson’s language, a vehicle for the delivery of vernacular poetry as durable and adaptable as the blues itself.This version of “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” on Netflix, is part of an ongoing project to bring all of Wilson’s plays — a cycle representing aspects of Black life in the 20th century — to the screen. That makes it, in some ways, definitive by default, part of an archive of preserved performances that will introduce future generations to the playwright’s essential work.From left, Glynn Turman, Chadwick Boseman and Michael Potts are the players behind Viola Davis’s Ma Rainey.Credit…David Lee/NetflixIt’s also definitive because it will be hard, from now on, to imagine a Ma Rainey other than Davis, or a Levee to compare with Boseman. The rest of the cast is first-rate too, but those two carry the play’s meatiest, most complicated theme, and enact its central antagonism. Each character is an ambitious, inventive artist, and their inability to harmonize creates an undertone of tragedy that grows more insistent as the day wears on.Ma, who rolls into the studio late, flanked by her nephew, Sylvester (Dusan Brown), and her young girlfriend, Dussie Mae (Taylour Paige), can seem almost like a caricature of the “difficult” artist. She insists that Sylvester, who stutters, record the spoken introduction to her signature song. She demands three bottles of Coca-Cola (“ice-cold”) before she will sing another note, and continually upbraids her nervous white manager (Jeremy Shamos). But this behavior isn’t the result of ego or whim. It’s the best way she has found of protecting the value of her gift, which once it becomes a commodity — a record — will enrich somebody else. The hard bargain she drives is the best deal she can get.She also represents the old school — an established star who works in a Southern style that Levee thinks is behind the times. Part of the history embedded in the play is the story of the Great Migration of Black Southerners to the industrial cities of the North, and Levee suspects that his fleet, light-fingered approach to the blues will appeal to the tastes of the migrants, and also cross over to white record buyers. He epitomizes a different kind of artistic temperament as well — cocky, impulsive, tilting toward self-destruction. He argues with the other musicians, refusing to listen when they try to talk sense to him. He seduces Dussie Mae, a risky career move to say the least. He’s a young man in a hurry, eager to cash checks before they’ve been written.Of course it’s hard to watch Levee — to marvel at Boseman’s lean and hungry dynamism — without feeling renewed shock and grief at Boseman’s death earlier this year. And though “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” has been around for a long while and will endure in the archive, the algorithm and the collective memory, there is something especially poignant about encountering it now.Not because it’s timely in an obvious or literal way — the argument of Wilson’s oeuvre is that time to reckon with racism is always now, because Black lives have always mattered — but because of some unexpected emotional resonances. Wilson’s text is a study in perseverance, but it’s haunted by loss, and to encounter it at the end of 2020 is to feel the weight of accumulated absences.Some are permanent and tragic, like losing Boseman at just 43. Others are, we hope, temporary. This is a rendering of a work written for the stage that begins with a concert — a sweaty, sensual spectacle of the blues in action. It’s also a movie that you’ll most likely encounter in your living room or on your laptop, further confounding an inevitable identity conundrum. Should we call this theater, cinema or television — or a sometimes graceful, sometimes clumsy hybrid of all three?Maybe the question doesn’t matter, or maybe it will matter more once we regain our critical bearings and the theaters and nightclubs fill up again. But at the moment, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” is a powerful and pungent reminder of the necessity of art, of its sometimes terrible costs and of the preciousness of the people, living and dead, with whom we share it. “Blues help you get out of bed in the morning,” Ma says. “You get up knowing you ain’t alone.”Ma Rainey’s Black BottomRated R. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes. Watch on Netflix.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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    Viola Davis and Company on ‘Ma Rainey’ and Chadwick Boseman’s Last Bow

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsBoseman and Davis head the cast of the new drama. It’s the story of “a woman who was known for her autonomy, who did not barter for her worth, and the men who were around her,” Davis said.Credit…Photo illustration by Jennifer Ledbury/The New York Times; Photos by Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images Europe; David Lee/NetflixSkip to contentSkip to site indexViola Davis and Company on ‘Ma Rainey’ and Chadwick Boseman’s Last BowMembers of the creative team discuss what it took to adapt the August Wilson play for Netflix and trying not to be “outdone” by the late actor.Boseman and Davis head the cast of the new drama. It’s the story of “a woman who was known for her autonomy, who did not barter for her worth, and the men who were around her,” Davis said.Credit…Photo illustration by Jennifer Ledbury/The New York Times; Photos by Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images Europe; David Lee/NetflixSupported byContinue reading the main storyDec. 17, 2020Updated 10:57 a.m. ETA nation riven by racial violence, an industry with a history of exploiting Black culture, white executives eager to portray themselves as allies, and Black artists at the center of it all, contending with a system that would toast them with one arm and pick their pockets with the other.The story of “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” August Wilson’s acclaimed 1982 play about Black pride, white power and the blues in 1927 Chicago, is as incendiary today as the day it was written. A new feature film adaptation, due on Netflix Dec. 18, revives Wilson’s historical narrative in a contemporary moment when so much and so little has changed.The second entry in his 10-play American Century Cycle, chronicling the Black experience in each decade of the 20th century, “Rainey” won three Tonys for its original run on Broadway. The film adaptation is already an awards contender for next year, thanks to a searing lead performance from Viola Davis and a powerful showing by Chadwick Boseman, in his final film role before his death from cancer in August.To play Ma Rainey, Viola Davis said she looked to “my Aunt Joyce and other Black women that I know to fill in the blanks.”Credit…David Lee/NetflixDavis plays Ma, an indomitable performer based on the real-life “Mother of the Blues,” whose unprecedented superstardom has taken her from tent shows in Barnesville, Ga., to a recording session in Chicago. The white men overseeing the session, visions of dollar signs dancing in their heads, fear and respect Ma like everyone else in her gravity-bending orbit, including her girlfriend Dussie Mae (Taylour Paige) and quartet of seasoned backing musicians: Levee (Boseman), Cutler (Colman Domingo), Toledo (Glynn Turman) and Slow Drag (Michael Potts). But when Levee’s own career ambitions put him at odds with the group, its fragile infrastructure threatens to implode.The Tony winner George C. Wolfe (“Angels in America”) directed the film from a script adapted by Ruben Santiago-Hudson. In a recent round-table conversation, conducted via video chat, Wolfe, Davis, Domingo, Turman and Potts discussed working with Boseman, Rainey’s potent legacy and asserting your worth in a world built on your devaluation. These are edited (and spoiler-free) excerpts from our conversation.The movie is dedicated to Chadwick Boseman, who delivers an unforgettable performance as Levee. What are some of your memories of working with him? What did he bring to the performance that you saw as his collaborators that we might not know about as viewers?GEORGE C. WOLFE I remember one time, when the band was just sitting around during rehearsal, he started to launch into one of his final monologues. It had all been very casual. And then, at a certain point, it wasn’t casual — it was a fully invested moment that was full of energy and intensity and truth. I just remember thinking, “Oh, we’re going there?” And he went there. We were all sort of half the characters and half who we were, and then, in that moment, the half that was the character took over. And it was kind of glorious.From left, Glynn Turman, Chadwick Boseman, Michael Potts and Colman Domingo.Credit…David Lee/NetflixGLYNN TURMAN I loved the way he always had his cornet nearby. He was always doing something with it, becoming familiar with it, discovering how a musician and his instrument become one. Anytime he picked it up, it was in the right position. Anytime he set it down, it was in the right position. Anytime he put it to his mouth, it was in the right position. He became a musician. It was wonderful to watch that. We all kind of took that cue not to be outdone, as actors do. [Laughter]COLMAN DOMINGO That’s the truth.WOLFE Who, this group? I’m confused. [Laughter]I wonder, when you look at his performance now or when you watch the film, does it play differently at all for any of you in light of his passing? Has its meaning changed for you in any way?DOMINGO Absolutely. I watched it the other night and I heard Chad’s language in a different way. You see his strength and his humor. It brought tears to my eyes very early on, knowing what I know now. And knowing we were all very well able-bodied people and we were doing this tremendous work, showing up and wrestling with August’s language. This man had another massive struggle on top of that. I don’t know how he did it. I sat with myself for a good 15 minutes after watching it and I had a little cry, especially when I saw the dedication. It truly struck me that he’s not with us. I knew he wasn’t, but to see that written, it kind of decimated me.VIOLA DAVIS There was a transcendence about Chad’s performance, but there needed to be. This is a man who’s raging at God, who’s lost even his faith. So [Boseman has] got to sort of go to the edge of hope and death and life in order to make that character work. Of course, you look back on it and see that that’s where he was.I always say, a carpenter or anyone else that does work, they need certain tools in order to create. Our tool is us. We’ve got to use us. There’s no way to just sort of bind whatever you’re going through and leave it in your hotel. You’ve got to bring that with you, and you need permission to do that. And he went there, he really did.Boseman “became a musician,” Turman recalled. “It was wonderful to watch that. We all kind of took that cue not to be outdone, as actors do.”Credit…David Lee/NetflixGeorge and Viola, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” is the only play in August Wilson’s American Century Cycle that is inspired by a real-life public figure. What do you think it is about her story that is ripe for drama?WOLFE I think one of the reasons that August was drawn to her is [that] she lived outside the rules. And when somebody lives outside the rules, it becomes very clear what the rules are. I love that she’s going to fight the fight, not thinking about the consequences. She’s going to fight the fight because she must. She reminds me of … my grandmother was like this. If you were a Black woman, if you waited around for somebody to acknowledge your power, it was never going to happen. So you had to claim your power. She has that quality that everybody has to evolve if you are an artist, period, and if you are an artist of color, magnified: This is the truth and this is my talent, and this is what I’m willing to do and this is what I’m not willing to do. I think she lived her life so purely that way. And if you set that in 1927, you’ve got drama, because the world isn’t acknowledging any of that.DAVIS One of the things I love about August is he gives us something that we have not had in a lot of narratives, especially in movies: autonomy. We’re always sort of shown in a filter of a white gaze. It’s like how Toni Morrison talks about “Invisible Man” by Ralph Ellison. She’s like, “Invisible to whom?” August defines us in private. If you ask any one of us who are on this Zoom call if we know anyone like Ma Rainey, who could beat your ass on Thursday and be in church on Sunday, who is unapologetic about their value, we grew up with people like that. And certainly, I think that it’s a great start for a narrative, to have a woman who was known for her autonomy, who did not barter for her worth, and the men who were around her.George C. Wolfe said that for Ma Rainey and other Black women, “if you waited around for somebody to acknowledge your power, it was never going to happen.”Credit…David Lee/NetflixViola, talk to me about stepping into the character of Ma Rainey. There is literally stepping into the costume, but there’s also the way she carries herself and the way she interacts with the world around her. Where did you find inspiration, and what did it feel like to become her on set?DAVIS You just have to look at the given circumstances. They said she had makeup that was like grease paint that was melting off her face. In the tent [during her performances], she always looked like she was covered in sweat. She was always wet-looking. She had a mouth full of gold teeth. She was described as not attractive. But because she was such a nurturer, some people were attracted to her.Like everything, I always say that if someone did a story about my life and they went to my husband and daughter, maybe talked to my mom, you’d still only get about 40 percent of me. The other part, you have to rely on your observations in life. You have to in order to get at what is driving that person. What are they living for? That’s when I had to get into my Aunt Joyce and other Black women that I know to fill in the blanks. Who was she in private? Who was she when she was with her women? Even if you didn’t necessarily see it, I had to use that as fuel.Glynn, Colman and Michael, so much of the electricity of the film comes from the interactions between the boys in the band. There’s a kind of jocularity and a camaraderie among you, but there’s also a current of tension and rivalry. Tell me about how you worked together to create that dynamic.TURMAN It starts from a place of really being able to enjoy each other’s company. I think we had a dinner one evening after rehearsal where we all went out after just meeting one another. Our friendship built on that foundation. Just like in real life, the pains and the discomfort come from how well you know one another, because the people who you know are the only people that can really get to you. So we all took great pain in trying to get to know one another within the time frame we had. That way, we were comfortable cussing each other out and giving each other [expletive]. And that took place onscreen and offscreen. [Laughter]MICHAEL POTTS It never stopped. You’re on set with a bunch of men who ain’t got no sense. They ain’t got no damn sense at all. [Laughter]Potts, above, Domingo, below left, and Turman. Along with Boseman, the actors playing the musicians set out to know one another, first over dinner, to get at how relationships in a band work.Credit…David Lee/NetflixCredit…David Lee/NetflixCredit…David Lee/NetflixDOMINGO I remember Chad came in one day. It was early in the rehearsal. He would come in with his hat cocked to the side and the trumpet with him. He comes in a room quietly, very gracefully. And I don’t know if it’s the Cutler in me as well, but I’m like, “Oh, so you just think you ain’t going to speak to nobody when you come in? You walk indoors and don’t talk to nobody?” [Laughter] He said, “Ah, no, no!” We were jocular in that way. But, from then on, he made sure every morning he came and said hello to his brothers and showed respect. Because the feeling was: We can’t be in our own heads. We’ve got to come in and just give over to each other. And that’s what we did.One of the major questions presented by the film is how you come to terms with your place in the world — as an artist and entertainer, but also as a Black person at the bottom of a rigid racial hierarchy. I’m curious if there were elements of the characters’ stories that resonated with any of you in your own artistic and professional journeys.DOMINGO I think that’s why this play is so resonant, especially for Black artists. You’re always trying to make sure your voice is heard, just speaking up and speaking the truth and saying, “No, my place in the world should be elevated because of what I give. I’m just asking for what I deserve, that’s it.” I think [the characters] are asking for that. I know, truly, that I’m asking for it. We’re all asking for it every day. We wake up fighting for it, go to sleep thinking about fighting for it. And we’re fighting for the next generation more than anything, trying to move the dial.DAVIS I find it exhausting. I do. I find it very necessary but exhausting. You’re fighting for your place. You’re fighting to be seen. You’re fighting to be heard. It’s always a fight. And it’s a fight for the simplest things that are given to other people without an exchange.My big thing is when I have to fight for my ability. I can’t stand that. That part of me is the part that went to 10 years of acting school, that did all of that theater, Off Broadway, Broadway, did TV, or whatever. And then you go into a room in Hollywood and you see that has a short shelf life when it’s attached to somebody Black. That’s what pisses me off. I don’t like when people question my ability. But I feel like that’s what all of August’s plays are about — fighting for one’s place in the world. And here’s the other thing: You don’t have to be a king or a queen. You don’t have to be someone up high. He has infused importance into our lives, even if we didn’t make it into a history book.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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    Ann Reinking: Playful, Refined and With Legs for Days

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyAn AppraisalAnn Reinking: Playful, Refined and With Legs for DaysDiscipline and abandon gave the dancer an ingrained elegance, an internal organization of the body that you sense even when it’s not pronounced.Ms. Reinking, photographed in 1977.Credit…Jack Mitchell/Getty ImagesPublished More

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    ‘Break It All’ Celebrates the Oppositional Energy of Latin Rock

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main story‘Break It All’ Celebrates the Oppositional Energy of Latin RockA new six-part Netflix series explores half a century of music under pressure.Soda Stereo onstage in 1984. The band is one of many featured in “Break It All,” a six-part documentary series on Netflix.Credit…NetflixDec. 16, 2020, 4:33 p.m. ETLatin America has taken rock seriously. Seriously enough for governments to suppress it. Seriously enough for bands to sing about political issues, societal troubles and the spirit of rebellion. Seriously enough for fans to risk arrests and beatings to see a concert. While Latin rock can be thoroughly entertaining — catchy, playful, rambunctious, over the top — it rarely settles for being mere entertainment. There’s often far more going on behind the melody, rhythm and noise.“Break It All,” a six-part documentary series named after a song by Los Shakers that arrives Wednesday on Netflix, hurtles through the history of rock in Latin America, from the 1950s — when Ritchie Valens, a Mexican-American born in California, turned the traditional Mexican song “La Bamba” into an American rock ’n’ roll cornerstone — to the 21st century.“Rock ’n’ roll is a form of communication,” Àlex Lora, of the blunt and boisterous Mexican hard-rock band El Tri, says in the documentary. “And it would be illogical, since there are millions of people who speak the language of Cervantes, if we didn’t have our own rock ’n’ roll.”[embedded content]The documentary is narrated by the artists themselves, speaking about both their music and the times they lived through. There are glimpses, and often considerably more, of nearly every major Latin rock figure of the last half-century. The names of bands and performers rush by, many of them probably unfamiliar to listeners in the United States. For those who want a second listen, the documentary makers compiled a companion playlist on Spotify under its Spanish title, “Rompan Todo.”A prime mover and executive producer for “Break It All,” as well as one of its onscreen musician-historians, is Gustavo Santaolalla, who has won two Academy Awards for his film scores and has produced albums for rockers across Latin America, winning a dozen Latin Grammy Awards. His own group, Bajofondo — which mixes tango, rock, orchestral arrangements, electronics and even a bit of disco — is nominated for a Grammy this year in the Latin rock or alternative album category.“I believe the future of rock resides in women and in the third world,” said Gustavo Santaolalla.Credit…NetflixAs “Break It All” moves through the decades, it juxtaposes exuberant songs and concerts with contemporaneous images of dictatorships, coups, uprisings and crises. Musician after musician defines rock as “freedom.”“I had this idea forever,” Santaolalla said in a video interview from his home in Los Angeles. “I wanted to tell this story against the background of the sociopolitical ambience of the time. Even musicians that are part of the story don’t make this connection easily. But when you start to dig in and look at the big picture, you realize how similar the situations were, how the same things happened in many countries.”During his younger days as a longhaired rock musician, Santaolalla himself was arrested and jailed multiple times in Buenos Aires — though never, he recalled, for more than three days. “Rock is not associated with any political party,” he said. “It doesn’t hold a political flag. But nevertheless we were enemies of the state.”Latin rock, also known as rock en español or Latin alternative, evolved with eyes and ears on English-language rock. There’s Latin blues-rock, Latin psychedelia, Latin metal, Latin new wave; throughout the series, Latin rockers cite their American and British counterparts. So in some ways “Break It All” shows a Spanish-speaking parallel universe to the history of rock in the United States and England, particularly in its early years.“We wanted to have self-expression — music that was crafted by us, that talked about our daily life,” said Rubén Albarrán, the lead singer of Café Tacvba.Credit…NetflixIn the 1950s, bands like Los Locos del Ritmo and Los Teen Tops translated American rock ’n’ roll songs into Mexican slang; in the 1960s, bands like Los Shakers vied to sound like the Beatles.“In our early, early, early years, when we were little kids, we were trying to be like the Beatles and sing in English,” Santaolalla said. “And then we realized, no, we have to sing in our language. And we have to play in our own language.”The best Latin rockers have infused imported sounds with local legacies, moving beyond imitation to innovation — bands like Soda Stereo from Argentina, Aterciopelados from Colombia and Café Tacvba from Mexico. Along with all they learned from rock, those bands and others draw on tango, ranchera, cumbia and numerous other homegrown styles, creating hybrids that resonate with and ricochet off cultural memories.“We wanted to have self-expression — music that was crafted by us, that talked about our daily life,” Rubén Albarrán, the lead singer of Café Tacvba, said via video interview from his home in Mexico City. “We put the energy of rock music behind the concept of being inquieto,” which translates as restless, worried or uneasy. “To be moving all the time, and to break away from the rules of our society.”“Break It All” hops from country to country, more or less chronologically, but concentrates on Mexico and Argentina. “There’s great music in all the region, but I like to think of those countries as a battery,” Santaolalla said. “One pole is Mexico and the other is Argentina, the north and the south. Mexico is closer to the U.S., and Argentina is closer to Britain in terms of sound and perspective.”Maldita Vecindad onstage in 1987.Credit…NetflixThe documentary traces cycles of expansion, suppression and rebound, of growing ambitions and widening connections. Under dictatorships, rock was at times forced underground. In Argentina, after the singer Billy Bond incited an arena crowd to “break it all” and the audience smashed seats, rock disappeared from television and radio; recording projects had to be submitted to government committees. In Mexico, the country’s rockers were vilified for more than a decade — and shut out of mainstream performing spaces — after a 1971 festival modeled on Woodstock, Avándaro, where the band Peace and Love declaimed songs like “Marihuana” and “We Got the Power” and used obscenities during a live radio broadcast that was immediately cut off.But musicians persisted, and audiences supported them. Mexican rock started to resurface when radio stations were playing Spanish-language rock from other countries and Mexican labels wanted their own share of the market. Argentine rock got an unlikely boost when, after Britain won the Falklands War in 1982, rock in English was banned from Argentina’s airwaves.The arrival of MTV Latin America in 1993 brought a new, border-crossing solidarity to Latin rock. Musicians became more aware of kindred spirits abroad; they realized that they weren’t struggling alone. Individual or national missions began to feel like a movement. And they had plenty of targets: authoritarian governments, economic turmoil. The music continued to cross-pollinate — with electronics and hip-hop — and it began, though belatedly, to recognize women’s ideas and voices.Latin rock never broke the language barrier to reach English-speaking audience in the United States; that current commercial breakthrough belongs to reggaeton and the vaguer Latin genre called urbano, both drawing primarily on hip-hop and reggae.“In my 50 years in this, I’ve heard the phrase ‘rock is dead,’ ‘rock is finished,’ so many times,” Santaolalla said. “When we started the series three years ago, I said rock is in hibernation. But now I say rock is in quarantine. I believe the future of rock resides in women and in the third world — they are going to be the pillars of rock. They are going to bring the vaccine.”AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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    in Theater

    Ann Reinking Dies at 71; Dancer, Actor, Choreographer and Fosse Muse

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyAnn Reinking Dies at 71; Dancer, Actor, Choreographer and Fosse MuseFrom the ensembles of “Cabaret” and “Pippin,” she stepped into the role of Roxie Hart in “Chicago,” and the rest is Tony-winning history.Ann Reinking as a character based on herself in Bob Fosse’s autobiographical 1979 movie. “All That Jazz.” “I think I came off as a good person,” she said, “and as someone who meant something to him.”Credit…Everett CollectionPublished More

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    ‘The Stand’ Review: Stephen King’s Pandemic Story Hits TV Again

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main story‘The Stand’ Review: Stephen King’s Pandemic Story Hits TV AgainA mini-series from CBS All Access adapts the sprawling novel about opposing camps of survivors in a post-apocalyptic America.Whoopi Goldberg plays a gifted centenarian in “The Stand,” a new mini-series adaptation of the Stephen King novel.Credit…Robert Falconer/CBSDec. 16, 2020, 1:45 p.m. ETStephen King’s slab of a novel, “The Stand” (originally 800-plus pages, later expanded to 1,100-plus), begins with a manufactured viral epidemic that wipes out most of the human race. That would seem to make it pretty relevant, or at least timely, in the year of Covid-19.The pandemic that King imagined in 1978 wasn’t like the one we’re experiencing now, though, and in the new mini-series “The Stand,” premiering Thursday on CBS All Access, the depiction of it doesn’t resonate in any strong way with our nerve-racking experiences of the last 10 months. It’s a Hollywood-style outbreak, racing past quarantines and leaving bodies dramatically splayed around the landscape. (Filming on the nine-episode series began in September 2019.) If there’s an incidental lesson, it’s that Covid-19 has changed the narrative when it comes to plagues, in ways that will show up onscreen in due course.It’s also true that while descriptions of “The Stand” always start with “virus wipes out billions,” the plague is really just a plot device — a way for King to distill the story into a confrontation between American good and American evil, represented by bands of survivors in a city on a hill (Boulder, Colo.) and a latter-day Sodom (Las Vegas).That also sounds pretty relevant to our current situation — red versus blue in a divided America, your choice which side is which. (King’s feelings are clear — the forces of good in Boulder are pretty snowflakey.) Here too, though, the mini-series doesn’t set off the vibrations that it might — not because the material isn’t engaging, but because the treatment of it is serviceable, workmanlike, maybe just good enough to keep you on the couch for nine hours.And isn’t that just about always the case with Stephen King adaptations, particularly on TV? Maybe creators assume that what the King audience wants isn’t adaptation but transcription. Or maybe, with rare exceptions — Brian De Palma and “Carrie,” Stanley Kubrick and “The Shining” — filmmakers with their own distinctive styles avoid the books because they don’t want to make what will most likely be called a Stephen King movie.This new version of “The Stand” (a four-episode mini-series written by King came out on ABC in 1994) was spearheaded by Josh Boone, who directed “The New Mutants,” one of the few big-studio popcorn movies to open in theaters during the pandemic. It’s a reasonably skilled and unobjectionable job of transcription and compression, stutter-stepping among time lines to keep track of King’s manifold plot strands and characters.The cast is large, evocative of a golden age of mini-series when you never knew who might show up in one. In the early episodes (six were available for review) we get the luxury of five minutes of J.K. Simmons, as a general presiding over the bioweapons facility from which the virus escapes. Lasting slightly longer are Heather Graham as a wealthy, suddenly widowed New Yorker and Hamish Linklater as a government epidemiologist, reprising his harried-company-man role from “Legion.”The main cast is led, capably, by James Marsden (“Dead to Me”) and Jovan Adepo as Stu and Larry, leaders of the peaceful camp in Boulder; Whoopi Goldberg plays the centenarian Mother Abagail, who drew them there by infiltrating their dreams. On the other side of the moral equation, Alexander Skarsgard is an insufficiently menacing Randall Flagg, the Vegas-based demon determined to destroy the Boulder group. (He isn’t helped by the cheesiness of the sets the production devised for Flagg’s own sessions of dream-walking.)If you’re looking for American-roots mythology on a large scale, there are other options available — Starz’s “American Gods,” for instance, and in the post-apocalyptic category, AMC’s “Walking Dead.” Both have their drawbacks, but “American Gods” gives you wild things to look at, and “The Walking Dead,” for all the aimlessness of its recent seasons, can still throw a good scare into you. “The Stand” doesn’t accomplish either of those through six episodes.The faithful may want to hang around until the finale, which King wrote, but as Stu tells himself as he heads to Las Vegas to confront Flagg in the novel, it might be a fool’s errand.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More