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by George Patterson
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

Assassination Or Impeachment

No longer called the Tulane Summer Shakespeare Festival, but the Shakespeare Festival at Tulane (the better to cleanse the organization of pedanticism), the five year old festival is presenting two productions this year, instead of the one it has presented before.

The two-production festival was recently begun with a skewed, but nonetheless dynamic, production of the "tragedy" of Julius Caesar, under the studied direction of Buzz Podewell. It will be followed by Romeo and Juliet, to be directed by Aimee Michel.

For J.C., the endlessly malleable Lupin Theatre space has been transformed by designer Hugh Lester into a three-sided arena with a large, raised three-stepped thrust stage. Upstage are several other metal-arched levels. This configuration concentrates the action upon this stage within a stage. With such a large cast and the various crowd and fight scenes (excellently staged by "Fight Choreographer" B. J. Merman), focus is impossible to maintain for everyone at all times.

Janet Herreld's costumes represent a conscious attempt to place this production in any time other than two millennia ago-when the action occurred-the better to give this political drama contemporary relevance-most ostensibly setting the senators apart by clothing them in dark suits; however, this reviewer is at a loss to explain the curious choice of attire for Danny Bowen's Mark Antony in his first appearance. As the right hand man and favored heir apparent, he enters with his triumphant Caesar (a rather lethargic George Sanchez) wearing a contemporary man's skin tight white girdle and that's all, except for some muslin wrapped around his knees. What is this supposed to mean? Mark Antony is a gladiator? Didn't have time to dress? Calaban redux? It is a most startling effect nonetheless and when he finally reemerges be-suited and Ray-Banned he cuts a most commanding figure.

The senators of the Republic are antsy over the power Caesar has acquired through armed victory. He may become a dictator. One among them, Cassius (a raspy voiced Mark McLaughlin), a latter day Newt, stirs the pot so seductively that he is able to draw another Senate leader, the very honorable Brutus (arguably New Orleans' best actor Gavin Mahlie), into his plot to assassinate Caesar which is bloodily accomplished.

The plotters' downfall is achieved through the Shakespearian device of hortatory. Unfortunately, Mark Antony's famous funeral speech doesn't quite make it due to Mr. Bowen's vocal limitations-Brutus' speech, although designed to be the lesser of the two, seems far more convincing. The populace revolts nonetheless; civil war ensues, and Brutus and Cassius meet their own bloody ends. The Republic will die and monarchy will be born-this "tragedy" is born of hubris.

Some directorial flourishes serve this production well-the use of kerosene-smelly torches during a crowd scene and the skillful use of an original score by Andre du Broc that adds urgency and suspense.

Today we do not use swords to assassinate our leaders' bodies. We go after their characters; and, like Shakespeare, it's done with words, words, words. Regardless of the costumes, this play still reeks with relevance and will 'til the end of time-or politics.

The Class Of '70something

New Orleans' very best producer/director Carl Walker, marking time before his next big theatrical splash (Terrance McNally's Master Class in Dec.), has resurrected his musical revue hit of two years ago, The Class of '70something, again at the CAC.

For anyone who came of age in that turbulent decade, who listened to the radio while cruising in a gas guzzler and watched sitcoms from All In The Family to The Brady Bunch to Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, wore bell bottoms, tie dyed tube tops and moon shoes, smoked pot, were for or against ERA, NOW, or Nixon, this show will be right up their alley. For the rest of us, it is far too much dreck to support its too-long running time, even if it has been staged within an inch of its glitzy life.

All nine performers have been assigned songs, dance moves, costumes, props, dialogue bits that fit them perfectly, just like their outrageous duds. This well rehearsed ensemble is: Anthony Bailey, Eddie Collins, Wess Hughes, Randy Juneau, Charlotte Lang (who doubles as costumer, with Roy Haylock), Daniel Morgan, Cynthia Owen, Dorian Rush & Danon Smith.

The show is divided into eight segments which are: Car Radio (18 songs-from "American Pie" to "Walk On The Wildside"), Women (an extended parody bit written by Michael Bahan and Sheila Bosworth and the only dialogue sequence of the evening), TV Themes (14), a mini Cher Show (in which Cynthia Owen as Cher rises to the top, like cream), Funk (7 songs), Juke Box from Hell (9) and Disco (9) which ends with "Last Dance" (wherein the energized cast swoops into the audience and attempts to dance with reluctant individuals).

The Herculean task of orchestrating these 83 ditties was accomplished admirably by musical director Jack Fowler. Choreographer Beverly Trask has supplied the Saturday Night Fever and Monkey moves with endless variety. Ron Williams created the lush and humorous scenery, from the shag-rugged, mirrored band platform to the day-glo bright giant TV sets to the breakaway car with its giant radio dial face.

The meal these talented people have concocted is New Orleanian in size and length-lots of fat and sugar but little in the way of nourishment.

Not So Funny Girl

Even in 1964, when Funny Girl, a musical comedy created by Isobel Lennart (book), Jule Styne (music), Bob Merrill (lyrics) and director Jerome Robbins, opened to rave reviews on Broadway, and instantly catapulted its star, Barbra Streisand, into the stratosphere of super stardom, it still lost out to Carol Channing and Hello, Dolly when the Tony awards were passed out. A star may outshine her vehicle, but the real proof of the vehicle's longevity rests on its engine-is the material strong enough to be driven by someone other than its original chauffeur? In the case of Dolly, this has been proven countless times; with Funny Girl, it's more problematic.

Tulane Summer Lyric Theatre, New Orleans' beloved summer stock institution, began its 31st season recently with a Funny Girl presentation that showcased the talents of Linda Zoblosky as its "chaffeur". She presented us with a stentorian voice and studied Streisand/Brice schtick that, while propelling the story of the rise of Ziegfeld comedienne Fanny Brice and her troubled marriage energetically, was nonetheless ersatz. She's a belter without pianissimo, a Jewish American Princess who is going to charm us or else-all of which kept this otherwise excellent production firmly transfixed to the groaning boards of the aging Dixon Hall; otherwise, this creaky vehicle fairly roared under Michael Howard's sure-footed direction and moved like greased lightening as its many filigreed scenes unfolded, flew in, glided out and otherwise dazzled. Scenic designer Rick Paul simply outdid himself. And although Ms. Zoblosky's determined incandescence was as powerful as the too few klieg lights at lighting designer Michael Batt's disposal, his many practical lights scattered through the production's design twinkled like fireflies on a summer night.

Conducter/musical director Pamela Legendre's cracker-jack efforts put the zing in the strings and the sass in the brass and the harmony in the large on-stage chorus.

Choreographer Alton Geno whipped his corps into spiffy ratatat shape and pulled off the two huge Ziegfeldesque production numbers "His Love Makes Me Beautiful" (sung thrillingly by tenor John Giraud)-the one with the pregnant Fanny, and "Rat-Tat-Tat-Tat"-tapdancing doughboys and girls with gusto.It must be reported that Ms. Soblosky's leading man, Scott Brush, was a last minute replacement for the indisposed Chris Carey, which could have contributed to her lack of connectedness, but the fact remains that Nicky Arnstein, a gambling womanizer, is not a sympathetic character to begin with and therefore Fanny's infatuation with him-and the book's only tension-is also ersatz. Their scenes together, the spine of the book, were perfunctory at best.

Standing out from the herd was Helen Blanke as Fanny's mother, Ann Casey as Mrs. Strakosh, a neighbor, and Ryan Blanchard as Eddie Ryan, Fanny's theatrical mentor, who taught her everything she knew. These three entertainers spiced up the proceedings nicely with "If A Girl Isn't Pretty" and "Find Yourself A Man." Luis Barroso likewise added dignity and verisimillitude with his take on Florenz Ziegfeld, Stephen Ladow scored as a mincing stage director (shades of Christopher Hewitt in The Producers), and young Kasey Marino exhibited polish and growth among his more experienced chorus denizens-watch for him to be starring in years to come.

Even with these reservations, this production was impressive and deserved its standing ovation. South Pacific is the next offering in Tulane Summer Lyric Theatre's three-musical season, 7/9-7/12, to be followed by Meet Me In St. Louis, 7/30-8/2.

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