TeenTix Blog Reviews

With a 30-foot king rat with a stray flopping tail, swirling cardboard waves, and a clock that grows legs at the stroke of midnight, Maurice Sendak’s set doesn’t attempt realism. His two-dimensional props look more like cutouts from a children’s book than objects of the real world. But that’s fitting from the author of Where the Wild Things Are. And it’s perfect for a show like Nutcracker.

Pacific Northwest Ballet’s annual show isn’t a typical ballet. From the stage to the audience, Nutcracker is all about the kids. It allows PNB students to take on serious roles and children (armed with tutus and tiaras, of course) to fill the lobby. In some settings, that would make the show feel juvenile, but at Nutcracker, it’s refreshing. It makes the show what it is — magical.

In case you hadn’t guessed from the title, Robert Davidson’s current exhibition, Abstract Impulse, at the Seattle Art Museum is, well, abstract. And it’s apparently impulsive in its confusion of titles, captions, loud colors, and shapeless forms. I walked out of the exhibition baffled.

Robert Davidson began the Northwest Coast Native art revival in 1969, when he created the first totem pole to stand in his ancestral village, Masset, since the 1880s. He has studied the artistic style of his tribe, the Haida, for years, and the exhibit holds a collection of 45 sculptures, prints, jewelry, and paintings by the artist, all based on the traditions of Northwest Native art.

Regarded as the first modern play, Woyzeck — written in 1836 by Georg Büchner — certainly embraces the idiosyncrasies of modern writing as it has come to be known. The Undergraduate Theater Society at the University of Washington takes on the fever dream of Franz Woyzeck’s life, complete with the fragmented scenes, impending sense of the absurd, and social commentary that have established this play’s long-running reputation.

I made the mistake of going into Woyzeck knowing absolutely nothing about this actually really well-known play. My complete lack of background knowledge and context left me baffled by the performance. I spent at least the first half of the play trying to mentally stitch the scenes together and wondered whether or not they were even in chronological order, given the absence of transitions. I had difficulty understanding scenes as they unfolded because my thoughts were still trying to make sense of the ones I had seen prior, and it took several scenes before I could gather a working idea of the world director Elizabeth Schiffler was portraying.

The two-part title of Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Kylian + Pite is misleading. Consisting of four vastly different dances, the show offers much more than just those two names.

Kylian + Pite opens with Petite Mort, a dance choreographed by Netherlands-based Jiri Kylian and set to music by Mozart. Almost immediately after the sparkly, red curtain lifted, I heard a little voice behind me exclaim “wow,” capturing both my thoughts and her own. This (approximately) five-year-old girl would proceed to accurately narrate the entire show for me.

Let me preface this by saying that I love one person shows. I love them. I find them incredibly interesting and admirable; as someone who participates in theatre, watching an actor seamlessly switch between completely different characters in less than a split second for upwards of an hour and a half is just awe-inspiring. It never ceases to amaze me that an actor can memorize more than an hour of dialogue with specific ticks, mannerisms, and voices for each character. This show was no exception.

Bo-Nita at the Seattle Repertory Theatre is beautiful. It captures the unique voice of a young teenager in an unconventional way, and manages to be charged and convey an array of emotions without seeming forced, over-the-top, awkward, or dishonest. By the 10-minute mark of the performance, I already found myself loving this strange girl and her way of viewing the world. Playwright Elizabeth Heffron's writing thoughtfully develops Bo-Nita's quirks and way of speaking; the character feels real and honest. Hannah Mootz carries this show beautifully, she has the gift of comedy but can transition into weighty dialogue with ease when necessary.

Baroque music, anyone? Yes, please! The Seattle Baroque Orchestra’s enticing performance, Musica Transalpina with the Guest Director Elizabeth Blumenstock, brings the audience 17th century music in perfect bite-sized pieces. It’s like a box of chocolates: “You never know what you’re gonna get”. But unlike life, all of them are pleasant surprises. (If you didn’t get the reference, watch Forrest Gump.) Unlike other orchestra concerts I have been to, the musicians hold open conversations with the audience in between pieces in order to explain the mystery behind baroque music. For example, the chromatic notes such as E♭ and D# were once two different tones, which meant longer chromatic scales for musicians to learn. As a flautist myself, I am thankful that this phenomenon doesn’t exist anymore. Who wants to learn more notes anyway? Blumenstock’s solo performance with the harpsichord, Sonata seconda detta la luciminia contenta written by Marco Uccellini, gives a sense of thrill to the ears of the audience. Her mastery of the violin and embellishment used in the piece shows her dedication to bringing baroque music to life. The rest of the orchestra also shows its enthusiasm for the music with energetic performances. Also, for the first time in my life, I was a witness to the playing of a harpsichord, which I did not even know existed until the concert. It is just like discovering that ice cream tastes heavenly with fries. Seriously. The delightful sound of the harpsichord is definitely distinct from that of a piano; it is more concise, yet fluid in its runs. The only flaw of the instrument may be the need for constant tuning due to chromatic notes of the baroque style. Other pieces, such as Sonata X by Antonio Bertali, showcase the usage of perfect thirds and the balance between Blumenstock and Melsted, the two violinists of the orchestra. The performance showcases what has made baroque music so intriguing to the musicians over the years. The concert goes by in a hurry before you can think ‘boring’. For those who've never been to such a concert before, I highly recommend you to attend one of Seattle Baroque Orchestra’s performances. You’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Musica Transalpina was a one-night eventNext up at Early Music Guild: Lucidarium: Una Festa Ebraica – Celebrating Life

If you’ve got an evening to kill and are looking for something fun and light with somewhat original and spontaneous energy, go see Jet-City Improv’s Blak Cloud. This show is an interesting experiment combining the qualities of improvisation and humor with the story in The Crucible, a recognized literary work of art, but the execution of the performance left me wanting more and feeling like I’d just watched an acting exercise, not a play.

In seeking to describe an experience that’s neither overwhelmingly good nor bad, it becomes difficult to explain the grey areas of comedy. It’s easy to describe the curiosity and interest that come with experiencing a live improvised play, and the sparse moments of laughter did lift my mood and spirits, even if only momentarily. It’s more difficult to describe when the performance doesn’t seem to connect completely. A humor-driven improvised show comes with the risk of letting you down ever so slightly when you don’t have that moment when you think you’ll pee your pants because you’re laughing so hard. Maybe it was an off night, or there wasn’t enough audience participation, but I wasn’t sold completely on the combination of improvisation and literature within a play.

Everyone knows what a "sugar daddy" is, but does innocent out-of-towner Sasha understand how dangerous they can be? When Sasha saves Val from getting hit by a car, Val seems like just another nice man trying to do good things in the world. When she hears just how sweet she is to his "Nephew Freddie," Sasha is even more convinced that Val is an amazing man. Her sister, Chloe, and downstairs neighbor, Ashlee, however, see right through him.

With this brilliant in-the-round show, you feel so in-tune with the actors and story that you just can't take your eyes off the beautifully acted and wonderfully staged action. Playwright, director (and living legend) Sir Alan Ayckborn has knocked this American premiere out of the park. Questioning your life, relationships, and view on the world is a definite when going to see this show. With people getting hit by cars, an awkward girl learning how to walk in heels, moments that make you belly laugh, and moments that will take your breath away with tension, ACT Theatre's Sugar Daddies will keep you guessing all the way until the very last line.

The Institute is a documentary about the pseudo-fictional Jejune Institute in California. I say pseudo-fictional because it is real in the sense that it exists in real life. However, in reality, it is not the mysterious organization of inventors and revolutionaries that it appears to be at first glance. In reality, it's both much more and much less than that. In reality, it's all just a game--a live-action, roleplaying game put on by a small group of people.

The film starts with a good, eye-catching opening that takes us around San Francisco and shows us some of the fliers for the Jejune Institute. It presents a compelling mystery from the start: what is the Jejune Institute? And what do they do?

Whizz boom bang ba dum, chhh… bop bop! If you’re into jazz, this is for you!

Imagine walking into a forest and hearing nothing but birds, then someone else who was listening wrote all those noises down all on pages and pages of music. Now imagine an insane jazz quintet using those ideas to create amazing music! It is hard to express in words how I feel about John Hollenbeck’s music. Sophistication wrapped in harmonious sonnets.

As I left the theater after seeing The Walworth Farce, I was already sending texts. I'll be seeing this play again tonight, and I'm bringing friends.

The Walworth Farce is a story about a father haunted by his ghosts who then forces his adult sons to reenact his past as a farce. This family is held together by little more than fear, obligation, and alcohol. And as the curtain goes up this family is on the verge of snapping. When an outsider arrives, this family is sent into a psychotic tailspin. These tortured minds, and desperation along with a few bodies in the closet combine to make this play a total triumph, and a masterfully woven story of trying to rewrite our past mistakes.

​“Gonna make me feel any worse?”

​It was not only the question on the character Malcolm King’s lips, but the one running through my mind during the entirety of Seattle Public Theater’s current production, Broke-ology. For those not yet versed here is a definition: ​ ​Broke-ology: 1. the study of being broke 2. a play by Nathan Louis Jackson detailing the lives of a poor, African American family: two brothers, their sick, aging father and his visions of their deceased mother And since I am a tenured “list-ologist,” here are the top three reasons to see this play: 1. Stubby, the “incog-negro” garden gnome. 2. The smile-inducing relationship between Ennis King (Corey Spruill) and Malcolm King (Tyler Trerise), the brothers who haul Stubby into the living room. 3. The refreshing cast of four and well-dressed set, amplified by the singular intimacy of Seattle Public's Bathhouse theatre. That being said, side effects of this play may include: 1. General melancholy. 2. Guilt, possibly echoing regret for splurging on that nice, new pair of shoes. 3. Garden gnome-induced heebie jeebies. The mood in the room at the end of Broke-ology is much akin to the Seattle weather outside. Though that isn’t to say the play isn’t funny; it is. It’s punctuated by snippets of dark and biting humor, the kind that makes you laugh really hard until your brain catches up with the speed of the dialogue to remember, “Oh no, that was a joke about lynching.” Still, somewhere in that goofy, gloomy game of survival, is an examination of illness, optimism, responsibility, dreams and sacrifice. And all of it is somehow squeezed into two hours spent in the King family’s living room. In those meager minutes, Jackson begins a discussion: How do we care for our parents as they begin to deteriorate? How do we care for our children when we are too frail to help them? What are you willing to sacrifice for those you love? On opening night, during the very last scene, when those questions breathed down the spectators’ necks, the audience’s eyes were fixated… though it varied between fighting back tears and staring vacantly at the box of Quaker Oats in the corner. ​ If you’re looking for the answers to those immense inquiries, you won’t find them here. What you will find is a newfound appreciation for settling scores with dominoes, and another surge of musings about life, love and family as the cast returns for their bows.

Pacific Northwest Ballet has a crush on Twyla Tharp. The iconic American choreographer has spent the last year as Artist-in-Residence in PNB, and while we can’t be sure how many gushy entries PNB may have written about Twyla in their diary, their new all-Tharp production, Air Twyla, shows that Twyla is a pretty swell person to have a crush on.

Tharp’s versatility as a choreographer makes Brief Fling an impressive start to the show. Military drum rolls, classical pieces, and a fleeting moment of disco groove come in quick succession as Tharp uses the dancers to explore a hundred different moods and styles. As the piece switches wildly over and over again, it begins to feel a little like Whack-a-Mole. Then you get it: this is Twyla Tharp saying casually, “Hello. I’m Twyla Tharp, and I can do anything.” And it’s true: her choreography rings true every time. Though Kaori Nakamura and Sascha Radetsky came off a touch behind the beat, Tharp’s big finish leaves you excited for the next two acts.

Cosplayers, video games, and an 8-bit gaming soundtrack were all part of the Seattle Symphony last Thursday when they performed The Legend of Zelda, Symphony of the Goddesses to an auditorium of faithful fans, old and new.

The Legend of Zelda is a fantasy video game that was first released in 1986 and over the last 20 years has gathered a huge fan base of its roleplaying fantasy series. One of the unique things about this fun game is its beautiful soundtrack. Every Legend of Zelda fan will tell you that the orchestrations are part of what they love about the game.

We sent Monet Curnutt, a self-declared Les Mis über-fan and DeLancey Lane, who had "never seen Les Mis in any way," to review Balagan Theatre's production of Les Miserables. Here's what they each thought: Monet Curnutt, the über-fan:

Middletown, written by Will Eno and directed by John Langs, is a contemporary retelling of the American classic Our Town. Middletown is startlingly true and poignant. In keeping with the theme of the original play, Middletown has a stark set only including two outlines of houses, a sidewalk, a bench, and a rock. The lack of set is a true metaphor for the play, a wonderfully quiet work about socially awkward people. Middletown is not afraid of silence and some of the best moments on stage are without dialogue. The performances by Alex Tavares and Eric Riedmann are reserved in just the right ways.

Alexandra Tavares portrays Mary Swanson with a true and moving humor. Her character is a woman who just moved into Middletown and is waiting for her husband to arrive. She quickly develops a friendship with her neighbor, John Dodge, played by Eric Riedmann. Their relationship is masterfully developed by Eno and the performances by Tavares and Riedmann are some of the best performances I have seen all year.

If you’re not familiar with Twelfth Night, here is what you need to know: cross-dressing, hijinks, love polygons, and mistaken identities were just as funny in Shakespeare’s time as they are today. Twelfth Night is timeless. Now: imagine it as a musical with clever, wisecracking wordplay, a fantastic set of songs, and an all-star cast.

Now you have Illyria.

The results of seeing ACT Theatre's Rapture, Blister, Burn by Gina Gionfriddo:

1. My abs hurt for three days from laughing too hard.

The newest inductees to the TeenTix Press Corps saw Intiman's Trouble in Mind last week. Here are a few bits of their thoughts about the show.

Leon V:

Jackie Sumell is no stranger to making a scene – in 2001, she organized a march on Washington, carrying hundreds of women’s pubic hair in order to protest pro-life decisions made by George Bush. Long before that, she was the first girl in Long Island to play competitive tackle football. However, when she attended a conference and ended up getting in touch with Herman Wallace, a now 40-year prisoner in solitary confinement, she had no idea it would eventually become the project she is most recognized for.

Herman’s House, a film written and directed by Angad Singh Bhalla, follows the 12-year relationship between the two unlikely associates. The story begins when Sumell sends Wallace a letter consisting of pictures of what she happened to be doing every hour, so that he will know what is still happening in the world outside his 6 foot by 9 foot cell – a room smaller than the average parking space. They begin a game: if Wallace were able to have any house in the world, what would it look like? Their plans become more and more concrete, and Sumell creates a scale model of Wallace’s dream house, eventually displaying it in 12 exhibits around the world under the name The House that Herman Built. The project escalates, with the goal eventually changing into actually creating the house in New Orleans, so that it can be a community center for youth. However, the movie doesn’t try to shine a positive light on the ordeal the two have been through – it concludes with Wallace still in prison and Sumell stuck in a rut, unable to find a way to make Wallace’s dream a reality.