Culture & Arts

Hubbard Street Dancers in "The Impossible" by Resident Choreographer Alejandro Cerrudo, from left: Jessica Tong, Ana Lopez, Jonathan Fredrickson and Andrew Murdock. Photo by Todd Rosenberg

Hubbard Street Dance Chicago brought together three impeccably danced pieces at the Harris Theater Thursday night-one of which was resident choreographer Alejandro Cerrudo's world premiere, The Impossible.

Starting out with a dramatic puff of cigar smoke and a single red candle, the audience first meets devilish Johnny McMillan, who is a shadowy figure and a force of evil throughout. Later he will be joined by a strong cadre of five other men who command the stage and careen through steps with both power and precision.

In the interim, a stooped old couple dances with little verve but much tenderness, draping themselves over one another and moving ever so gingerly. Soon they are joined by a younger couple (earlier versions of themselves?) and all four then dance together, offering both a reminder of what has been lost over time and a spark of joy for what is still left of love.

Ana Lopez and Jonathan Fredrickson capture the very essence of old age without being too literal. The choreography has the other couple helping them dance, gently lifting arms and moving limbs. It's at once ghostly, sweet and sorrowful.

Branimira Ivanova's costume design is subtle with just a few pops of color, such as the red socks and suspenders for McMillan's costume-the perfect hint of drama. And the music, although by a variety of different artists, comes together seamlessly to help solidify the overall vision.

Cerrudo's ability to tug at the heartstrings while merely hinting at a wisp of a storyline is phenomenal. Many of his hallmarks are here-slow motion movement, a simple, yet theatrical set, and the intense lighting design by Michael Korsch-yet, he offers some new possibilities through this choreography. The only small flaw in this new work of his is that it didn't last quite long enough to see them all through.

Hubbard Street Dance Chicago in "Gnawa" by Nacho Duato. Photo by Todd Rosenberg

Gnawa opens the program with Nacho Duato's stunningly musical choreography. Dancers place candles at the edge of the stage and move through the piece effortlessly, making a multitude of marvelous shapes as they go. The strength and control of the dancers is evident here as they make each movement appear completely natural-no matter how difficult. It's easy to see that when Duato made this piece for them in 2005 he was intent on showcasing the abilities of the company. And showcase them it does.

Hubbard Street Dancers David Schultz, foreground, and Kevin J. Shannon in "Quintett" by William Forsythe. Photo by Todd Rosenberg

Forsythe's Quintett puts forth both vitality and vulnerability as the dancers whirl through its tortuous choreography, set to composer Gavin Bryars' composition "Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet". Although this piece was only recently debuted by the company (2012), it is clear that it is well-suited to their skills. The sometimes graceful, other times erratic movements in the choreography are performed with aplomb by all five of the dancers-and this is by no means an easy task.

The stark set includes a projector which remains idle until the final minutes of the piece. It comes to life suddenly, throwing imagery against the white backdrop, but the focus is quickly torn away by the intensity of the lovely Ana Lopes who continues dancing with a sense of reckless abandon as the curtain lowers.

This post was first published on 4dancers.org

I sometimes feel like I have my own Tony Awards black cloud. Last year, my guest got injured at Party #2 (and Matilda lost, which made me sad). This year, I decided to go solo, and I got food poisoning in the morning. (Life lesson: When you're violently ill all day, a drink at midnight is probably not the best idea for mental or system functioning.) Nevertheless, it's the Tony Awards! It's the culmination of every New York theater industry professional's year. It's the time to put on nice clothes, watch an award show and then go celebrate the theater community.

I am not even sure what to say about this year's broadcast. There was so much thrown in there that it is all a blur. I still don't think I've comprehended it all. It was a broadcast that relegated the writers of musicals to commercial breaks, but highlighted the writers of plays in a new, unexpected way. There was hopping. Someone thought it was appropriate for the "In Memoriam" segment to be shown at Radio City during a commercial break. (FYI: Not cool, CBS, American Theatre Wing and the Broadway League.) Two upcoming musicals (only one of which has a Broadway house or announced dates) were featured because their songs were sung by celebrities, but the one 2014-2015 Broadway musical currently playing, Holler If Ya Hear Me, was only mentioned by its director in his A Raisin in the Sun acceptance speech. I was surprised by Beautiful 's Brian Ronan winning for Best Sound Design of a Musical and A Raisin in the Sun winning its three awards. In my book, speech of the night goes to Lena Hall; Jessie Mueller in second, Audra McDonald in third. I would have much preferred the Best Featured Actress in a Play award went to Celia Keenan-Bolger or Mare Winningham, but I wasn't devastated as is. I wasn't really personally invested in any category, and therefore I didn't care how they shook out. (I thought Gentleman's Guide would win, but I did have a whole column planned on press agent Molly Barnett had Beautiful pulled it out, complete with retro Richard Kornberg and Associates office photo, so I was a little sad I couldn't do that, but then I don't think the Tony Awards should fall according to my column preference.) I followed Variety's Gordon Cox and Time Out New York on Twitter for non-broadcast material, sat back and just watched what there was on air.

I thought the telecast was disappointingly overstuffed and yet under-inclusive. And I was sick all day. But there is no Tony night for me without Tony parties. I love the whole thing. This year, I stopped by Best Musical winner A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder, Beautiful (featuring Best Actress in a Musical winner Jessie Mueller) and the O&M after-party at Cafe Carlyle.

Needless to say, Gentlemen's Guide had a very happy party. In my favorite Tony party location, downstairs at Rockefeller Center (home to last year's Vanya Sonya Masha and Spike fête), the party featured some ecstatic winners and supporters and an eclectic DJ playing everything from "Timber" to "Respect" (maybe in honor of the Aretha Franklin After Midnight rumors, or maybe not) to "MMMBop." I caught up with lead producer Joey Parnes (who is also a producer on the winning revival of A Raisin in the Sun)

to ask him how he felt a couple of hours after A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder took home the top prize. Parnes explained how long the creatives were working on the piece, not an obvious commercial hit, and how "gratifying" it was to be at this point. "In music, you keep playing the seventh over and over again to get to the tonic," he said. "We kept playing the seventh, playing the seventh, playing the seventh, because we knew if we kept playing the seventh, we'd get to the tonic. We finally got to the tonic."

Sitting inside one of the large indoor spaces, in a booth with her whole family around her, I found nominated cast member Lauren Worsham, who gave a great Drama Desk speech, but sadly didn't get the opportunity to accept an award on the Radio City stage. She said she was happy to be relaxing with her family, but had a really amazing night, with the two highlights being her show winning and LL Cool J taking the stage. ("It was LL Cool J! That's my childhood right there," she said.) Worsham said that if she was ever nominated again, she'd let it sink in more. Understandable.

I also was greeted by some very gregarious fellows who were friends with producer Jhett Tolentino, whom I had never met before. Tolentino and producing partner Joan Raffe (they go by "Joan Jhett Productions") were proudly sporting Gentleman's Guide pins and talking about their experience. (They also produced A Raisin in the Sun this season, as well as the less successful Velocity of Autumn.) "We've lived together seven years," Raffe said, looking at her producing partner. "He's gay, I'm old. There is no sex, but we win Tonys."

I left the Gentleman's Guide party at about 1:30am, at the height of its popularity. Star Jefferson Mays had just arrived with a dog, and Mothers and Sons nominee Tyne Daly had also walked in, signaled by a shout-out from the excited DJ. (I never previously thought I'd hear a DJ say: "Tyne Daly is in the house!") I wanted to get to the Beautiful party though, which was down the block at the smaller Bobby Van's Steakhouse. Unlike the ever-growing Gentleman's Guide party, the Beautiful party had already partially thinned out. Luckily though the guests still included the spectacular Lillias White, nominee Jarrod Spector (so great in the show) and one of the night's biggest winners, Mueller. Mueller was already proudly sporting flats and beaming at the folks who came over to congratulate her. "To be here, with all our friends and our family, it's such a wonderful moment," she told me. "I feel wonderful."

I just caught Mueller, Spector and others because they, like me, were soon to be at the Carlyle, where public relations firm O&M hosts its annual after, after party. The swank affair seemed bigger this time, bigger and yet more crowded. Many presenters and winners were there. The After Midnight cast was having a fun time in a group, posing and telling stories. It's always interesting to see the interactions at this point of the night; Zachary Quinto walked right passed one of the night's winners, Darko Tresnjak, with just a "Hey" before doubling back with a: "Oh, Darko. Congrats!" I overheard Hall, still overwhelmed and exceedingly excited after 3am, telling someone she changed five times during the night. When I told her I thought she gave the best speech of the night, she said she was "looking forward to seeing it" because it was such a blur for her. Actually, many of the Tony winners I spied without their actual award, but each time I saw Hall, she had it, possibly so she would know winning it was real. I have many other Carlyle stories, but I don't think it is necessary to quote people that late at night. Let's just say, everyone had a great time at the packed affair.

And with that, Tony night was over. At 4am, I left many people still at the Carlyle, enjoying some live music, animated patter, free-flowing liquor and amazing cookies. Now we all start planning for next year's night.

Once you leave the main pavilion of the 2014 Architecture Biennale in Venice, all bets are off. Rem Koolhaas, the architect-curator, challenged the 66-plus countries that entered to respond to the prompt of absorbing Modernity 1914-2014, a giant mouthful of world wars and their spoils, and the hot potatoes of development, urbanism, energy, transportation, housing, poverty, etc. According to a number of the curators of these pavilions or spaces with whom I spoke there was not a great deal of communication between Rem and them (simply a function of time and resources). Most did not have the attention or massive budgets of their Chinese colleagues whose pavilion was indeed an entirely new construction. Yet I felt like there had been an imaginary ad hoc architectural league of nations that had met and decided to focus their responses because with few exceptions, their response to modernism was filtered through vintage film, photographs and a great deal of text.

One architect complained the whole thing would have been better read than seen as it felt like an Architecture 101 textbook. Another critic -- gorging with me on free eggplant caponata in the Rolex space -- was wholly dismissive of the orientation, complaining that in the old days the countries would just put up the best contemporary projects they had to offer.

Having worked long years in film, however, I was secretly delighted that architects have realized one of the best ways to catch up with modernism is to see Brigitte Bardot on the rooftop of a white stucco modern house in And God Created Woman at Mondeitalia at the Arsenale, (the other massive venue) or Jacques Tati and his band of merry misfits pratfalling all over the Arpel villa in Mon Oncle (at French Pavilion). Catching up with the modernist treasures of each country and in special exhibits by the city of Milan -- getting ready for the next big extravaganza of architecture at the Milan Expo 2015 -- (some organizers already in jail on charges of corruption) gave me mid-century-furnishings-lust that was not sated even after four days of immersion.

The Arsenale

Some highlights: Ila Beka & Louise Lemoine's powerful film portrait of an abandoned modernist Italian building caught in the crossfire of corruption and the law; the wild juxtaposition of a California style bungalow in the fascistic German pavilion of 1938; Brazilian pavilion Oscar Niemeyer-esque dividers made out of white foam core (which I think they should put into production); the contrarian French team (naturellement) questioning whether modernity has been a blessing or a menace, the Argentinian historical display of Real v. Ideal rough storyboards, the Moroccan installation of futuristic projects stuck -- amusingly -- on a bed of sand. I found our U.S. pavilion, a supposedly "active" office limned with hundreds of brochures of influential firms oddly counterintuitive to Rem's mandate to avoid the personal.

La Maddalena film by Lemoine & Beka

The Moroccan Pavilion

The German Pavilion

The Italian Pavilion

To my mind the most beautiful thing to see was Carlo Scarpa's elegant vintage garden oasis in the central pavilion which led me to all the other Scarpa sites in Venice -- in particular the completely restored Olivetti headquarters on the Piazza San Marco -- and the Prada Foundation's excellent Art or Sound exhibit, one of the most engaging exhibits anywhere, a triumph of curation showcasing (in magical vitrines) musical instruments as delivery systems for delight, whimsy and innate beauty. A final visit to three of the synagogues in the Ghetto made the indelible impression that the fundamentals of enduring and important architecture are not only windows, doors and balconies but the weight of meaningful interaction with its users.

The Carlo Scarpa garden at the central pavilion

Creating moments is what The Big Island Film Festival is all about. You can create moments in the present, while you're there sharing your passion for film with the other filmmakers, celebrities, and participants as well as enjoying the splendor of being at the Fairmont Orchid on the Big Island of Hawaii. You can also create moments internally as you reflect on the festival films, full of their own unique moments, crafted by filmmakers. It is all about celebrating the moments that touch our hearts, awaken our curiosity, lead us to a new life perspective, open a different door into a story and give us hope.

I've been blessed to be a part of The Big Island Film Festival for the last three years and this year, I led a workshop titled, "Adding Fiction To Your Truth In Your Writing." When I attend the festival, I know that I am both seeking the interpersonal moments with other artists as well as the moments when I get to experience the vision of the filmmakers. I am seeking moments that make me go, "aha!" and shine a light on a worldview that I haven't seen before. I saw 20 films while I was at the festival this year. I believe that this was one of the strongest years overall since I've attended this event.

These are some of the ingredients that I noticed helped to create powerful cinematic moments this year:

1. Sharing of universal and emotional truth
2. Telling a story that goes outside the box
3. Giving a unique worldview of common life moment
4. Starting with an original idea
5. Exploring a strong thematic question

Upon reflection, the films that hit my heart and led me into a wide range of emotions included: "The Haumana," which celebrates a ritual symbolizing the pride of a culture; "Time Lapse," a thriller with a sheer originality of thought and a sci-fi twist; "Tuesday Morning," which explores the moral ambiguity of a life situation; "Suriname Gold," the heart-wrenching story of what one woman did to survive; "Great," a witty, intelligent telling of a powerful story of resistance in less than 30 seconds; "Poison Apple," which shifts the perspective of a familiar fairy tale; "3:13," a film that wakes us all up to the realities of homelessness and how we can make a difference; and "One Weekend," which illuminates the thrill of a life moment when your whole world comes together and everything you are suddenly makes sense.

We create life moments that will live on in our hearts forever when we attend events like The Big Island Film Festival. I love going on what I refer to as a "productive vacation" when I get to emotionally connect with the participants on a whole new level and simply celebrate the dreams that are being realized all around me.

This year's festival will live on my heart. I experienced moments that shifted my worldview and made me feel things in a whole new way. I give so much gratitude to Leo and Jan Sears for having the vision to bring together a wonderful community of artists so that we could celebrate the moments that the filmmakers had the courage to create. I also give enormous amounts of gratitude to the Fairmont Orchid and Christof Luedi and his team for creating such an abundant backdrop with incredible accommodations, phenomenal service, and exquisite food.

The Big Island Film Festival is all about creating moments. Maybe, it's time for you to create some cinematic moments that can be celebrated. Submissions for the 2015 Big Island Film Festival begin in November, 2014 and go through February 1, 2015.

The Haumana 1:35:00 Winner of Best Feature and Audience Choice Award

According to Hula Nation Filmworks: "When the charismatic host of a cheesy tourist show in Waikiki accepts the challenge of leading a group of high school boys through the demanding discipline required for a traditional hula festival, he becomes as much a student as a teacher when he reconnects with the culture of Hawaii he previously abandoned." Director/Writer -- Keo Woolford

Time Lapse 1:40:48 Winner of Best Feature
A modern thriller with sci-fi elements about three friends who discover a machine that takes pictures 24 hours into the future. They conspire to use it for personal gain, until disturbing and dangerous images begin to develop. Director: Bradley King, Writer: Rick Montgomery

Tuesday Morning 0:13:30 Winner of Best Short
Rick and Jewels are colleagues and professionals who are deeply I love with one another; although married to others. During a morning tryst extraordinary events occur (9/11) which provide an opportunity that's hard to pass up even though it's completely wrong. Director: Chad Kukahido Writer: Darrow Carson

Suriname Gold 0:22:55 Winner of Best Foreign Short
While searching for her husband in the gold mines of Suriname, a woman uncovers a forsaken world of politics and prostitution - offering a piece of her body and soul to survive. Director/Writer - Paula Henrique Testolini

Great 0:23:08
Did the Nazis ever see Charlie Chaplin's "The Great Dictator"? Yugoslavia - 1942, the young Serbian projectionist: Nikola Radosevic decides to teach the German oppressors a lesson they won't forget. It is the beginning of a true and astonishing WW II resistance story.

Poison Apple 0:09:00 Winner of Best Family Short and Audience Choice Award
A musical retelling of the Brothers Grimm's classic fairy tale of Snow White told through the point of view of the infamous poison apple. Director/Writer - Dane Neves

3:13 1:37:00
Based on the real life events and drama of the homeless situation during the late 2000's US recession. Producer/Writer/Director: David Jaure

One Weekend 1:05:34
A dark fairy tale. A reclusive teenage boy, suffering from an identity crisis, discovers his father is not his real father and seeks out to meet his biological father for the first time. Director/Writer: Diana Cignoni

Barnes & Noble refuses to stock my book. All but one of the independent booksellers in my area refuse to sell it. You see, in their estimation, I've signed a deal with the devil. Much of the literary community considers Amazon to be evil, holding the e-retailer responsible for the death of the bookstore. And because my book was published by Amazon's literary imprint, most brick-and-mortar stores won't sell it.

To be fair, if a store refuses to carry Incendiary Girls, most will put in a special order--but only if a customer specifically requests the title--so the potential reader not only has to wait but must return at a later date. Barnes & Noble does sell it on their website, but their shipping time is longer than that of Amazon. Sound familiar? In essence, these stores have been delaying availability of certain titles for customers, just as Amazon is now doing with Hachette books. The hypocrisy is frustrating, to say the least.

I can certainly empathize with the Hachette authors--I've been dealing with this for months. I understand what it's like to be caught in the crossfire with little agency or control. I understand, more than most, what it's like to lose readers and revenue.

But I don't understand why the literati are up in arms. Amazon took a page from their competitors' playbook, doing what Barnes & Noble and other stores have been doing to Amazon-affiliated titles for months. And now, many folks consider the Hachette feud to be a sign of the literary end times--if Amazon will throw its weight around now, what will happen when it controls more of the market?

It's certainly a fair question to ask, but I find the overall assumption--that Amazon's increased control will result in a literary apocalypse, especially for authors--to be not only counterproductive but alarmist and extreme. We simply don't have the evidence to make any conclusions at this point. In fact, my experiences with Amazon have proven otherwise.

Most people aren't aware that Amazon, in addition to being the behemoth e-retailer, also publishes books. Their literary fiction imprint publishes novels in addition to story collections. For those of you unfamiliar with the industry, story collections aren't exactly hot commodities because far fewer people read them. It's my understanding that most publishers take a loss on story collections to invest in a writer's next work--in general, a novel.

And story collections like mine, featuring the strange and fantastical, are even more risky. (Notable exceptions, of course, would be titles by George Saunders and Karen Russell.) I thought my options were limited. But an editor who'd published one of my stories as a Kindle Single was very interested and made a pitch for Little A, Amazon's literary imprint. Publishing only 10 fiction titles each year and aided by an impressive budget, with a team of folks who were young and hungry, I knew my work would get more individual attention from Little A than from a more traditional publisher. Plus, my book would be supported by the marketing power of Amazon. It was an offer I couldn't refuse.

The terms of my contract were standard, and in some areas, generous. So how does Amazon treat authors? Based on my experiences, quite well. My editorial team at Little A is passionate about good fiction and I'm grateful they took a chance on a risky manuscript.

Unfortunately, my interactions with the more traditional sectors of the publishing industry have been much less positive. Because of my publisher's affiliation with Amazon, Barnes & Noble won't stock my book. Many bookstores, including a number of independent booksellers, are particularly opposed to selling Little A books, which they equate with aiding the enemy. What's confusing to me is that indie bookstores are doing precisely what Amazon can't--that is, providing a carefully curated selection of literature for their readers, and most importantly, fostering community among book lovers by offering staff selections and recommendations as well as hosting author events, readings, book clubs, and writing groups.

Given my book's treatment, I find it disingenuous to claim that either side is "best for authors," especially given the current publishing climate. But I do think these feuds show that the majority of damage is collateral. The tactics used by all sides--delaying shipments or making books unavailable in brick-and-mortar stores, which amounts to soft censorship--primarily hurt authors and readers.

The purpose of publishing and distributing books is, presumably, so that they will be read. Boycotts and delaying tactics run counter to this purpose. The longer this struggle within the publishing industry continues, the more we all stand to lose.

My name has always been a matter of pride and wonder to me. Partly as a result, I traveled this year to Estonia, the land of my ancestors on my father's side. We have a long history there, us Kolls. We originally come from a small village called Palamuse in the County of Jogeva and our last name is very old -- it means ghost or "boogey man" and is a holdover from the pagan days.

I was not raised with Estonian tradition and always wondered just what that would have been like, given that it is a very small country.

That's why when I came upon Mei Xian Qiu's work as part of my work with curator Peter Frank's Trans Angeles show (which opened in April in Germany), I was intrigued and excited to find out who she was and perhaps know more about her history.

It turns out she has 3 names. Being Chinese and raised in Indonesia, early in life she was subject to the cyclical violence and prejudice that gets whipped up by the people pulling the strings there. Her first given name is Indonesian: Siryana. The second is Chinese: Mei Xian Qiu. Her third name is American -- Cinderella, or Cindy (which she was required to get while in Indonesia -- just in case she ended up here.) Of course it was illegal to be Chinese -- to practice its traditions -- in Indonesia.

When her family moved to the U.S. for the last time, escaping the genocide inflicted on the Chinese and looking for a new life, she embraced her heritage and set about finding out about it -- including visiting China several times. She notes that stereotypes about the Chinese people are pervasive, and a majority of Chinese have shed their cultural heritage in favor of a more Western aesthetic, not just the many who have emigrated here. As part of that journey she moved from painting to photography to help her express her motivations and message.

Cherry Blossoms, 2012. Photograph on Plexiglass Substrate

Using carefully staged -- yet appearing completely natural - subjects of varying ethnicity according to where she is in her research, often dressed in clothes she designs and sews herself, she juxtaposes assumptions about ethnicity and custom with Pan Asian, Chinese, and Western motifs.

Jeremy Flower, 2010. Photograph on Plexiglass Substrate

Madonna, 2012. Photograph on Plexiglass Substrate

The result is at once prescient and provoking. Whether one is able to recognize the people's identity (sometimes mixed race), their personality comes through first, followed by objects and symbols that create questions about our understanding of their cultures. Or perhaps Mei Xian Qiu has created an illusion for us -- their view of themselves -- but either way it doesn't matter. She has an innate ability to create an environment where the people in the photographs feel comfortable in their own skin.

White House, 2010. Photograph on Plexiglass Substrate

5 Star, 2010. Photograph on Plexiglass Substrate

8801, 2012. Photograph on Plexiglass Substrate

Despite the often surrealistic nature of these tableaux, you feel like you're actually there and empathize with the characters. When you place your own prejudices (we all have them) onto your initial view of the pictures, you find yourself asking some very important questions.

Who are we? Does our global reach from one end of the earth to the other now require us to become homogenized just to survive? Does that alter the desire to stand out in a crowd? Can we actually be original in our work?

These questions, and more, form the basis of Mei Xian Qiu's extensive body of evocative, personal, yet worldly work, and illustrate for us how it can sometimes be all about what you call yourself.

Mei Xian Qiu will be showing her photographs in Art Basel from from June 14 - August 1 during Los Angeles Contraventions at Galerie Merkel, Baslerstrasse 2, 79639 Grenzach-Wyhlen Germany.

Trans Angeles - Crossover Experimentation's first stop on it's itinerary closed May 18 at the Kunstmuseum Wilhelm-Morgner-Haus in Soest, Germany. The video in this article is part of a long-form documentary about the creation of the exhibition being sponsored by the Venice Institute of Contemporary Art and directed by the author to be released later in 2014.

Greta Gerwig and Scott Shepherd in THE VILLAGE BIKE (photo by Matthew Murphy)

Penelope Skinner's The Village Bike was termed "a provocative and darkly comic look at fantasy and romance" when it was produced in 2011 at the Royal Court's Jerwood Theatre Upstairs. The play enjoyed a sold-out, extended run, winning the author the Evening Standard Award for Most Promising Playwright. The Village Bike is now resident at the Lortel, under the auspices of MCC Theater. This American version, albeit with heavy English accents, is not nearly so provocative and dangerous -- or funny -- as it must have been at the Royal Court.

Personable young Brit couple are getting ready for bed in a cottage they are renovating in a quaint village. Small talk includes discussion of a second-hand bicycle that English teacher Becky (Greta Gerwig) intends to buy so that she can exercise during her first trimester, despite misgivings by husband John (Jason Butler Harner). They talk about the bicycle, the village, and their troublesome plumbing. Yes, he is "neglecting the pipes." She talks about how she used to watch "boys on their bikes just shooting down the road," but she could never "let go." During this, she puts on a new sexy nightgown, but he -- busily reading a book on what they can expect now that Becky is pregnant -- evades her desires. "I've got to make a lasagna tomorrow," he explains. "From scratch."

After a half-scene worth of loaded comments -- is this talk suggestive? -- Becky pulls out some porn films to entice her husband, although he rolls over asleep. We hear the porn soundtrack, which will become aural punctuation throughout the play. We then watch as the pregnant wife flirts with two locals. One is, indeed, a plumber. ("You got sweaty pipes. Nice and tight for now, but I'll have to pop back.") The other is a village bad boy, who enters carrying the bicycle he is selling and wearing re-enactment garb with what he explains are uncomfortably "restrictive britches." "Isn't she gorgeous?" the men converse. "Hardly been ridden." But are they talking about Becky, or the bicycle, or both?

There are two-plus hours of this. The play lurches from comedy to sex to violence to comedy in bumpy and never-involving fashion. (Some playgoers might consider it "Thomas Bradshaw with clothes on," although Village Bike is considerably more palatable than Intimacy or Burning.) Does something get lost in the translation from English to -- well, English? Very possibly. "The village bike" is readily recognizable slang, for British audiences, signifying "the village slut." As in, everyone in town gets a ride. This knowledge would presumably change the way audiences at the Lortel respond to the play, early on. But that in itself wouldn't help much, I imagine. Becky indulges in dangerous, violent and risky (for the baby) behavior. At no point, though, do we seem to care. Perhaps that's the playwright's aim, but even so. We don't care, we don't laugh, we aren't engaged.

The six-person cast is headed by Gerwig, whom all the publicity tells us is the star and co-author of Frances Ha. Not having seen Frances Ha--a 2012 film by Noah Baumbach--that is not much help. It turns out that she does an admirable job here, despite what she is given to do, and we'll gladly see her when next she takes the stage. (Gerwig was a late replacement for the previously announced Maggie Gyllenhaal.)

Staging the play is the always interesting Sam Gold, who has been known to work wonders when he has wonderful material -- but this is not the present case. Laura Jellinek's set is also worth mentioning. The first act takes place in Becky and John's cottage. The second act set incorporates three distinct houses simultaneously, with the rooms intermixed. It is an impressive use of space, although not quite successful in execution. Although let it be said, the intermission -- with something of a fifteen-minute ballet by stagehands -- is almost more engaging than some of the play.

The Village Bike, by Penelope Skinner, opened June 10, 2014 at the Lucille Lortel Theatre.

Alan Ayckbourn is the chronicler of the middle class. Up in Scarborough, England, where he turns his plays out and puts them on -- or has done for many years -- he looks at people from every angle. He effortlessly gets their foibles and peccadilloes down with accuracy. Depending on his mood, he can shift from melancholy to hilarity and often back again.

He's always worth following, and here's the chance on the HD screen, when the National Theatre sends out the current revival of A Small Family Business, which was first seen at the busy venue in 1987 with Michael Gambon at the head of the large, raucous cast. Screenings begin tomorrow, May 12, with other dates to follow (check NTLive.com).

It's now Nigel Lindsay in the Gambon role as Jack McCracken, the head of the family business in question -- and "in question" is the operative phrase, since just about everyone in that family business (something to do with furniture) has a narrow to broad corrupt streak running through him or her.

Jack is slowly twigged to the little problem at the party that opens the darkish comedy, a celebration of his birthday. His wife, Poppy (Debra Gillett), though she's a garish dresser (Tim Hatley's costumes and set, too), isn't in on the skullduggery, but eventually her brother Desmond Ayres (Neal Barry), a frantic cook in his spare time, is. So's Jack's brother Cliff (Stephen Beckett) and Cliff's extremely garish wife Anita (Niky Wardley), who has a penchant for jewelry.

Though a few others, like Desmond's nervous wreck of a wife Harriet (Amy Marston) and Jack's increasingly substance-abusing daughter Samantha (Alice Sykes), aren't on to some tandem scheme or scheme of their own, the rest are. What Ayckbourn's on about here is watching Jack's attempts to deal with the wandering gang and, perhaps ultimately, discovering his version of the old saw that goes "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

Ayckbourn is a past master at making these types funny because of and in spite of their shortcomings. That's to say he always keeps an eye on the detrimental aspects of their shenanigans. One way he does so here is keeping an eye on Samantha as she mopes around the house while others are carrying on devious. Just wait for Paul Anderson's final lighting effect.

And director Adam Penford makes sure it all remains lively, although somehow this production remains more of a rib-tickler than a thigh slapper. Penford and the facile players, each keen at playing Ayckbourn, elicit more smiles than laugh-out-loud responses. Maybe it's Penford's idea of assuring that no one misses the drawbacks to such rampant mischief.

Lindsay leads the players with verve. Also strong are Gillett, Wardley (who does blowzy to a T) and especially Marston with a speech Harriet gives about the deleterious effects of food and eating. Barry, Matthew Cottle as an underhand private detective -- they're all crackerjack.

Set designer Hatley puts a staid brick house with neatly trimmed lawn on stage for the audience to see as it enters. Then, when Anderson's lights dim and come up again, Hatley spins the Olivier Theatre turntable so the house is exposed. The interior, where not only the opening party but also a closing one takes place, becomes the smart metaphor for exposing the truth behind what can often pass for our individual sense of having presented the perfect façade.

Converting Your Garbage Into a Fleeting Work of Art

With legal murals proliferating through the neighborhoods and cities that are embracing and inviting street art, it is refreshing to see that the renegade spirit of DIY is still coursing through the creative veins of the street.

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Art Is Trash (photo © Jaime Rojo)

Today we take a look at "Art is Trash" (El Arte Es Basura) the nom de street of Barcelona-based Francisco de Pajaro, who appropriates the stuff you threw away and creates art with it. Sometimes he rearranges boxes and bags and lampshades and that old headboard from your bed to create a new canvas. Other times he connects his characters with pieces that other street artists have left -- creating a sort of "forced collaboration". Most frequently he is spontaneously taking inspiration from whatever materials are at hand and creating something new with them.

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Art Is Trash (photo © Jaime Rojo)

He also is pretty successful at stand-alone comedic characters who pop up on a field of graffiti tags with their own drama and an occasional fly.

Round the corner and you may witness his contingent of horse riding warriors wielding long paint rollers and an assortment of miscreants, jesters, ruffians and scallywags with wide eyes and long-stretched arms in tow.

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Art Is Trash (photo © Jaime Rojo)

Catch him in action, and you see the same sort of free-style improvisation you might find at a comedy-jam; an artist working rapidly with the materials before him, unrestricted and unencumbered by contracts, provisions, conventions or censorship.

Art is Trash recently left an entertaining trail through New York streets. Here we present you with just a sample of his in-the-moment offerings... and a few flies.