Bringing Back Faith

It's all fun and games until Michael Cerveris makes you cry.

This past Saturday, I took a friend to see “Fun Home” at the Public Theatre. It’s based on Alison Bechdel’s comic book, about growing up in a funeral home, discovering she was a lesbian and, around the same time, finding out that her father had been secretly gay. It was alternatively heavy and hilarious stuff, the kind of things that make people with daddy issues cry. Michael Cerveris played Alison’s father and gave one of the most nuanced performance I had ever seen on the stage. It was a performance that was all subtext. Here was a man that had lived in the closet his entire life, and could only step a foot out of it when he thought no one else was looking. He was both an attentive father and a dismissive one, who both saw things and didn’t see them. It was masterful, where you could see a glimpse of the real man underneath but you had to first wade through all of the surface in his character.

It was one of those times where I was really happy to have been there, to say, “I saw that and it was awesome!”

Whenever people talk about live performances, they talk about how nothing can replicate it, how TV and film can’t compare to being in a room and sharing the same space with both performers and the other audience member in the room. How the sense of community both informs and enriches the viewing experience.

I think they’re wrong.

Blurred Lines (Theater Edition)

"See...my...vest!"

This past Saturday, I caught the theatrical equivalent of a double feature: seeing two plays in one day. With a Shake Shack break in-between. And the more I thought about it, the more I realize these two plays shared a very common (and I do admit, slightly arbitrary for the sake of this post), thread: they cross boundaries.

I started my day by waking up at noon, having cereal, and then heading into Manhattan for "Mr. Burns: A Post-Electric Play" by Anne Washburn at Playwrights Horizons. It deals with a post-apocalyptic world, where immediately after, a group of people act out old episodes of "The Simpsons" from their memories to keep themselves entertained.

And with "The Simpsons" becoming oral history, in the style of "Othello," it becomes something like a Greek drama in the second act (set 75 years after the apocalypse). It's a powerful concept: At the end of the world, after the power goes out, "The Simpsons," a work originally presented in the most philistine of mediums: sitcom television, have become the new classics: a Grecian-style tragedy with chorus, masks, and overtones of morality.

Low art has become high art. Or maybe it has always been high art and it just took the lights going out to realize it.

So That Freelancing Thing

Jose Llana, credit: Joan Marcus

So the thing I've been trying to do ever since I got to New York City, besides get a job, was do some freelancing. And then I got a job and realized that while I loved writing, I also loved drinking, and going out to dinner, and taking long walks. So there went the freelancing idea...until now!

Hello world! Diep is here and she takes assignments! And she is not monogamous to "American Theatre" magazine.

Why just last week, "Time Out New York" ran a story I wrote about Filipino-American Broadway-leading man Jose Llana, who I was first introduced to via the "Flower Drum Song" 2002 cast album (my reaction back then was something like, "Who is this hot-sounding Asian-American man? And where has he been all my life?). Well in real life, Jose has a boyfriend and he is also my co-worker's cousin. I did not know that when I pitched the story.

But here is the link to the story, about Jose and his work in "Here Lies Love," a new David Byrne and Fat Boy Slim musical about former Filipino first lady Imelda Marcos, currently at the Public Theater. And if you have not bought tickets, you should, the music is super catchy and the performances are electric. The whole thing is set in a disco nightclub (da club) and it's like I time-traveled back to 1975 and Studio 54, where David Byrne dressed all in white and was on the dance floor bopping his head to the beat. I may have done some (a lot) dancing.

Here's an important snippet of the chat between me and Jose that I could not fit into the article:

I’m getting old enough now, I’m 36, where I’m beginning to work [chuckles] with younger Asian guys who were in grade school when I was in "The King and I." For them to say to me, "When I fell in love with theater, you were the only Asian-American man  I could look up to who was not from the '50s." When I think of all my heroes growing up as a musical theater geek, they were Caucasian or African-American. There weren’t many prominent Asian-American musical theater stars. If I can be that person to a young Asian kid who thinks, "If there are roles for Lea Salonga and Jose Llana and Telly Leung and Paolo Montalban, maybe I can do it too." For a young kid to see someone who looks like them, doing what they want to do, it's really really important. I used to shy away from that but I really own it now.

Isn't he someone who you just want to hang out with? Not many people realize the importance of seeing yourself reflected on the stage, so it's so refreshing to hear a theater artist acknowledge that. And mini-soapbox over.

Here's some more links for things I've done lately:

I created a video for "American Theatre"
AT also launched a new podcast series, which I also edited. Two episodes are up. I conducted the third episode, which should be up next week, in case anyone is wondering what my wonderfully soothing voice sounds like (oh if I could sound like Terry Gross).
I created a tumblr for arts journalists, because I love the fact that gifs are back in fashion. I also take submissions! What Should We Call Arts Journalists?

And I'm in the middle of writing two pieces. 2013 is going marvelously.

2012 in Theatre Superlatives

"What good thing have you seen lately?"

That's the question I'm usually asked when I tell people that I write about theater (for a living, wow). It's as if because I report on it, I am suddenly the guru of good theatrical tastes. And since year-end lists and summations are "a la mode" during this time in the season, I want to offer something in the stream-of-consciousness vein. I'm realizing that the more theater I see, the more they start to blend together. And what makes a play stand out in your memory, even months later, were small moments that just burrowed deep into your brain and refused to let go.

So here is the 2012 Deep (Diep) Theater Superlatives!, a list of shows that were memorable in many different ways to me. It's not a complete list of the best things I saw this year, it's even more subjective than that. These plays, at different price points, in different locales in New York City, did what the arts does best, grab a piece of your soul and leave their mark on it.

Tweeting in the Theater (No, Just No)

Like most people in their 20's (aka Millennials), I have a very intimate relationship with my cellphone. It's underneath my pillow when I sleep at night (not for any emotional reason, it's because the outlet for my phone charger is next to my bed and I don't own a nightstand). My phone is on my desk at work. It's in my pocket when I'm on the subway. And it has a name when I plug it into my MacBook: it's Pippin. In short, I probably spend more time with my phone than with any other piece of technology, jewelry or memento that I own. Who needs a teddy bear when you have an iPhone to hug at night?

Which is why when a cellphone goes off while I'm at the theater, I get irrationally angry. Why? It goes without saying but a cellphone ring is distracting and when you're at the theater, it takes you out of a connective moment that you were having with the actors on the stage.

Into the Park (Act II)

My new niece. Doesn't she make you want to pull a Witch and steal a baby?

And we're back...a month later. I have a good explanation for the long absence, I swear. It's called the October 152-page issue of "American Theatre" and a managing editor on maternity leave. And it was also called my sister Thao, who had a baby on August 15, which was the same day as my dad's birthday (who turned 69 this year). "Happy birthday daddy, I got you another granddaughter!"

And speaking of my daddy, my parents also visited for a week and a half to see their new granddaughter. This is grandkid #5 for them and apparently, it doesn't get old.

As for me, I was at the magazine's beck-and-call while at work and my mom's beck-and-call after work. And as for the boyfriend...he's been putting up with the family crazy and baby photos admirably (though he did say "I want 8 of those" when I showed him the above photo of my niece, I hope that's not a hint).

But I am determined to write about (the Public Theater's Shakespeare in the Park) "Into the Woods" dammit, because it's Sondheim and a large cast (practically unheard of these days) and now that my life is literally filled with children, it's even more appropriate, because children will listen. Which is why I tell my boyfriend not to swear so much in public but unlike my nephews and nieces, he doesn't listen to me.

But now that it's too late for a "is this show worth seeing or not?" type of review, I want to talk more about the show's concept, which is the thing I found most interesting and what I thought I remember most vividly since I saw the musical last month.

Spoilers abound in this analysis so proceed in with caution. Mind the path.

Into the Park (Act 1)

Amy Adams and Josh Lamon go Into the Woods.

Overture

Last Thursday, August 2nd, I stood in line for the Public Theater's Shakespeare in the Park the whole time. But this year was not just Shakespeare, it was also Sondheim. And this was Into the Woods, in Central Park, at the rustic, outdoor Delacorte Theater. And if there was anyone I would line up for, it would be the God of musical theater (no offense to the Bard but I can readily see free Shakespeare productions all over the city).

I waited in line for 7 hours beginning at 6 a.m., got two tickets, took a nap and then went back that night refreshed and dressed up for the show (including a free dinner and dessert from the boyfriend because he owed me for waiting in line for 7 hours).

Below is an hour-by-hour play of the waiting in line part.

How to Run a Theater Marathon

Gatz, credit: Joan Marcus

I think the first time I did a straight marathon run of anything was Lord of the Rings, the extended edition, which added up to around 12 hours of orc slicing, Legolas hair flipping and Frodo's freaky blue eyes. Of course, that was over a period of two days and I took frequent food breaks (mostly during the battle scenes, which got a bit tedious after a while) and most of the time was in my pajamas. My dad came in and out, exclaiming, "How long is this thing?" and my sister dropped out around Rivendell (weak). But not me, I was a "Ringer" and I was going to do this! For Middle Earth! For Frodo! For my future kids to prove that I was cool back in the day!

These days, I am significantly less cool and less prone to movie marathons. Instead, I have graduated to something even classier: theater marathons.

Pushing Daisey

 An interesting thing happened on Friday. Of course, to my managing editor and editor-in-chief, it was a face-palm-worthy thing. For me, it was interesting, because it called to question the nature of full disclosure statements.

Mike Daisey's The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs, which I blogged about as an example of provocative, on-the-ball, anxiety-inducing work, turned out to be partially fabricated. Consequently, "This American Life," which had aired a portion of the monologue and posited it as truth, aired a retraction episode to clear up the, what we journalists call, "factual errors."

Understandably, the Internet blew up, especially the theater people on Twitter.

Terry Teachout of Washington Post called it "unforgiveable." Issac Butler told everyone via Twitter to chill out until TAL aired the retraction episode.

And even Roger Ebert called that Mr. Daisey is a "fraudster." That made me sad because it simplifies the issue.

On the Ball

But the March issue of American Theatre is out today, with a very prescient story about gay marriage as a theme. Considering that gay marriage is now a reality in Washington, New York, Maryland, really close in California and (if it wasn't for Chris Christie) New Jersey. See everyone? The American theater is not always behind the trend! Sometimes, we're actually running alongside it.

credit: Sara Krulwich, NYTimes

And in other news, I finally stopped being lazy and saw The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs at the Public Theater down in the East Village on Tuesday. It was one of those moments where you knew what you were getting into (which was the reason why I had put it off for so long, I knew it was going to be good but a downer of a night. I was partially right). In this case, I knew I was going to be treated to an evening of a firsthand account of Mike Daisey's, the monologist, trip to China and to Foxconn, the factory that makes half of the world's electronics, including Apple's. And how that factory treats its workers, how it puts them through 12-16 hour shifts (one man died after working a 36-hour shift while Mr. Daisey was there) and how it throws them away like defective machines when their hands become too misshapen and carpal-tunnel-ridden from doing the same repetitive motion (assembling iPhone, iMacs, iPad, etc parts) for years.

I knew all that. But there's something about a story that's being told just right, in a relateable, sometimes funny, and oftentimes harrowing language that brings the point home. Especially when that story is told in the form of a retrospective, based on first-hand accounts.

You can download the monologue at Mike Daisey's website and read it and perform it at your leisure. And you can read the expose on Foxconn from the New York Times that was researched and published at the same time as when Mr. Daisey was performing in one-man-show.

Coincidence? Or theater doing its job? After all, isn't that the point of art, to hold up a clear (not rosy-colored) mirror to society? The argument for the importance of art is convincing when there are pieces like Agony and the plays mentioned in the gay marriage article being made.

And I also want to give a shout-out to that thing that I love more than theater: journalism. Real, investigative journalism. Not soundbites taken straight from a press release that passes for journalism on TV (no offense to broadcast reporters but really, someone please call Rick Santorum out on his three degrees in light of his claim that colleges are for "snobs"). From the Times expose on Foxconn, which attracted more than 1,000 comments, and petitions, letters and demonstrations, people are finally thinking actively about green technology. Finally, being a TRUTH avenger is a good thing again.