What I Saw: Bests of 2009

Three Penny Opera - Shotgun Players, directed by Susannah Martin.

The production lays claim to a punk aesthetic that, for me, affirmed Vivienne Westwood's observation that you "couldn't do punk any more because people have got used to everything;" the irony, rebellion and nihilism of punk have been absorbed and mainstreamed into our culture and sold back to us (which considering all that's gone on in this country since 9/11, this covers an almost negligible portion of what we've gotten used to here). Early punk wasn't meant to age or sustain or endure and probably shouldn't be aesthetically codifiable. Lacking a direct connection to the cultural context that created it and the ways punk has morphed into the present day many-headed beast it is, the danger here is that punk becomes rooted in nostalgia, kind of like those PBS concerts where all the rock or folk groups from 60's and 70's who are either all still alive or still talking to each other gather for one blowout night and we see how everyone's aged and how the music itself is dated and has lost its vitality. If Three Penny Opera were truly punk it would be unwatchable with performances that for good or ill were unrepeatable every night. It would be anti-entertainment (a territory where Brecht never consciously ventures) and would actually be kind of interesting and risky, but probably not for everybody.

Look at it this way: there are many here among us for whom the life force is best represented by the livid twitching of one tortured nerve, or even a full-scale anxiety attack. I do not subscribe to this point of view 100%, but I understand it, have lived it. Thus the shriek, the caterwaul, the chainsaw gnarlgnashing, the yowl and the whizz that decapitates may be reheard by the adventurous or emotionally damaged as mellifluous bursts of unarguable affirmation. Lester Bangs, A Reasonable Guide to Horrible Noise

At punk's heart lies an idealism that's at odds with the realities of surviving and making a living and this is where the Shotgun production succeeds - showing the various ways TPO's characters respond and rationalize making those necessary compromises. But the best moments are when the show manages to catch punk's impulse by the tail. This happens most often and effectively in the music, under the direction of David Moschler, and in Jeff Wood's performance as MacHeath. At its essence Wood's performance embodies a certain "better to burn out" sensibility that contrasts with MacHeath's own desire to save his hide by trading on his army buddy relationship with Tiger Brown and reaches its ironic apex when the Queen's pardon that saves him from the gallows also confers on him the emasculation of acceptance by making him nobility.

One of the strengths of Susannah Martin's direction is its physical dimensionality. The stage never goes flat physically; actors always seem arranged in such a way that the 3-dimensional integrity of the stage is maintained and highlighted. Erika Shuch's choreography supports this tendency and exploits it to great effect in Pimp's Tango when she claims the floor as playing space with movement that approaches the erotic. Set design by Nina Ball and gestural work by the cast call to attention the ceiling, enlivening the entire space. It's always clear that I'm watching theater, that I'm sitting in a theater and that the entire space has theatrical potential.

This show went by whiz-bang fast driven by a energetic ensemble who embraced the material and directorial structure with menacing glee. Strong performances from El Beh, Daniel Duque-Estrada, Bekka Fink, Dave Garrett, Rebecca Pingree, Josh Pollock, Kelsey Venter, Christopher White, and Jeff Wood. When it was over I wanted to see it again.