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A play production born of economic stimulus money
A theater group composed of CalArts grads takes its $50,000 and presents 'Brewsie and
Willie,' adapted from a Gertrude Stein novella.
The cast during rehearsal of Cal Arts stages adaptation
of Gertrude Stein novella "Brewsie and Willie" in Los Angeles. They are using federal economic stimulus job-creation
grant from NEA. (Francine Orr, Los Angeles Times
/ July 16, 201 |
By Mike Boehm, Los Angeles Times
July 16, 2010 The show is "Brewsie and Willie," adapted from
a novella Gertrude Stein published a month before her death in 1946. It's being done by California Institute of the Arts' Center for New Performance
in association with Poor Dog Group, an experimental theater company made up of former CalArts acting students who graduated
in 2007. A $50,000 chunk of the production budget is job-creation money from the feds — one one-thousandth
of the $50 million the economic stimulus bill set aside to boost employment in the arts, after Congressional debate as to
whether the work artists do actually has any economic importance. The pay is hardly lavish — less than
$3,000 each, on average, for eight actors and nine designers, technicians and other behind-the-scenes personnel, covering
about three months' work. But without it, says Carol Bixler, producing director of the Center for New Performance, "we
would never have been able to do this show." In applying for the economic stimulus grant, administered
by the National Endowment for the Arts, CalArts emphasized that $50,000 for "Brewsie and Willie" would put money
in the pockets and a credential on the résumés of young theater artists trying to gain a foothold on their
careers at a time when the prospects for recent graduates in many fields, including the arts, have been darkened by the
Great Recession. The play resonates uncannily with the moment, says Travis Preston, the Center for New Performance
artistic director who staged its all-female "King Lear" and a "Macbeth" featuring a lone actor, Tony-winner
Stephen Dillane, with a jazz trio. For more than a decade, Preston had wanted to direct "Brewsie and Willie,"
never thinking until the bottom fell out of the global economy that Stein's concerns about the working lives awaiting GIs
who had just won World War II would speak so immediately to the job anxieties of their children and grandchildren. The play, adapted from
Stein's text by Preston, fellow professor Marissa Chibas and former CalArts theater dean Erik Ehn, is spoken entirely by
American servicemen and women waiting to be sent home from France. Along with earthier interests, they talk obsessively about their anxious return to civilian life. Would the
Great Depression simply resume, leaving no work for them? And if prosperity broke out, would life become all about getting
and spending? While worrying over practical realities, Stein's characters delve deeply into how they might make their postwar
lives — and American life — meaningful. Stein was inspired by her talks with GIs who had liberated
France, where she and her lover, Alice B. Toklas, had lived together as American expatriates since 1908. After Nazi Germany conquered France in 1940, the couple's welfare, as Americans and Jews, became precarious. A friendly French official who
collaborated with the Germans made sure they remained unscathed. When victorious American soldiers arrived, Stein lavished
upon them the hospitality she'd grown famous for as hostess and grand dame of a circle that included Pablo Picasso and Ernest Hemingway. "Brewsie and Willie" champions the idea that independent thinking and speaking and "pioneering"
action, rather than economic security, are the essence of the American experiment. Brewsie, his unit's resident philosopher,
fears that a "job-minded" quest for solvency and security is all that lies ahead. Even though "Brewsie
and Willie" may represent the notoriously oblique Stein at her most accessible, Preston knew that performing it would
require a dedicated group of young actors willing to put in the effort to memorize and master lines with idiosyncratic cadences
full of repeating words. Having kept up with his former students in Poor Dog Group, he was confident they had the chops
and commitment to pull it off. The group's founders had studied under him before earning bachelor's degrees
in 2007, and afterward Preston attended shows they wrote and staged themselves while scratching out livings from odd jobs.
To share expenses, Poor Dog Group sometimes lived communally, including a spell as tenants of a downtown warehouse-cum-performance
space. "These actors are exactly the age of these soldiers, and they are the best actors I know of that
age," Preston said. Jesse Bonnell, Poor Dog's artistic director and playwright, says that tackling "Brewsie
and Willie" is an important step forward — a first shot at "taking a piece of literature" and running
with it toward the group's goal of establishing itself as a font of experimental work "that doesn't have to be underground
at a fringe theater." Because of what he calls "these Obama bucks," Bonnell says, ensemble members
who had been known to rehearse from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m. so as not to lose their day jobs have been able to join Preston for
a professional, six-days-a-week rehearsal process. "Brewsie and Willie," which opened Thursday, is being produced
in the seventh floor penthouse of a downtown building, on a set that features about 1,000 sandbags on the floor, and an
unfurled parachute — a leftover set piece from the group's production of the 1950s space race satire, "The Internationalists"
— hanging from the ceiling. The lights of downtown L.A. high-rises shine through the windows, doubling as a Gallic
cityscape for the show's hour-plus running time. Bonnell, who plays a soldier inclined to overdo the cognac,
says Poor Dog Group appreciates how its share of jobs-stimulus money has afforded a taste of the solid, working life that's
possible — albeit elusive — in big-budget regional theaters, but exceedingly rare for American experimental
ensembles. "We feel humbled and lucky to have this job, one that feeds our souls," he said. "It's an awesome
job." mike.boehm@latimes.com var afterLoginLocation = ''; var defaultLocation = $('articlePromoLink').href;
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Copyright © 2010, The Los Angeles Times Los Angeles Times
By
David C. Nichols
December 18, 2009 Heaven only knows
how extraterrestrials would view "The Internationalists." Our hunch is that they'd feel right at home. Disciplined,
goofy, frenetic and provocative, this absurdist abstraction by Poor Dog Group is instantly the craziest show in town.
Using the "space race" of the '50s as a launching pad, the Information Age as viewfinder, "Internationalists"
telescopes a nexus of notions into its rocketing ethos. Among the themes: the irony in making rampant technological advances
while regressing socially, racial/gender inequities and the messy parallels between Communist oppression and McCarthy tactics.
A silk parachute hovers above a conference table, like some bizarre astral jellyfish. The performers wear Eisenhower-era
office garb, barring a lone figure (Itamar Stern) in quasi-totalitarian work clothes who sporadically jars us by clanging
a frying pan.
The systemic sound design, punctuated by Andrew Gilbert's guitar-accompanied songs, has imposing
scope, and Adam Haas Hunter's saturated lighting is remarkable. Under Jesse Bonnell's direction, the nonlinear course features
vaudeville shtick, cacophonies of simultaneous comment, ersatz Frenchmen, a crib from August Wilson's "Fences" and
more. This lunacy peaks with a dropped-trousers dance break that gives new perspective on "moon landing."
Besides Hunter, Gilbert and Stern, the ensemble includes Jonathon Ahmanson, a jet-fueled Brad Culver, John Kern, Jesse
Saler and the fearless Catherine Ventura. Their elated group cohesion is acute, an American equivalent to European experimental
theater. Appropriate, given that "Internationalists" toured Eastern Europe this summer, including the Grotowski
Institute's International Theatre Festival.
Not everything carries the propulsion of Culver and Ventura's domestic
exchange, lifted from the film "Pollock," or the zany jolt of Stern's revealed identity.
Certain textual
crudities are barely ideological crudités. Nevertheless, though "The Internationalists" may vex average tastes,
avant-garde fans and adventurous NASA retirees should find it a madly inventive blast.
calendar@latimes.com textSize()
Copyright © 2009, The Los Angeles Times BACKSTAGE WEST Reviewed
by Les Spindle
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PHOTO CREDIT Jesse Bonnell |
Poor Dog Group, a highly adventurous company
composed of graduates from California Institute of the Arts, is presenting its latest work locally, following a 10-week
European tour. The iconoclastic theater piece "The Internationalists" is conceived and directed by PDG artistic
director Jesse Bonnell and features the troupe's extraordinary eight-member ensemble: Jonathon Ahmanson, Brad Culver, Andrew
Gilbert, Adam Haas Hunter, John Kern, Jesse Saler, Itamar Stern, and Catherine Ventura. A wickedly funny sociopolitical
satire, viewing the U.S.-Soviet space race of the 1950s through the lens of contemporary youth brought up in the age of
YouTube and Twitter, the piece is a fine showcase for the group's provocative style. Eschewing linear plotting
and familiar dramatic conventions in favor of a random structure, the piece combines comedic episodes, disconnected dialogue,
strange aural and visual effects, and bizarre dances and movement—even a brief scene from August Wilson's "Fences"—with
no relation to time and space. Actors don't follow customary rules of performance protocol, sometimes interrupting their
moment in the story to comment on the production. The initial scene is a 1957 press conference following the launching of
Sputnik, the first Russian satellite to orbit the earth. Time shifts back and forth, as we view modern attitudes in relation
to those of other eras. The hypocrisy of McCarthyism, the ongoing denial of civil rights to various minorities, and other
outrageous injustices are presented, in contemplation of our nation's concern with technological advances in the face of
regressive social movements. Andrew Gilbert's original music and Hunter's masterful lighting effects beautifully
support the tense mood. The splendid performers display versatility and are amazingly dexterous in handling the obviously
exhausting demands of this lightning-paced 50-minute show. Though the elements of the piece that attempt to toy with audience
expectations—particularly a gimmicky conclusion—feel contrived, the troupe's bold attempts to inspire food for
thought in unconventional ways result in brilliant moments. PDG is a company that merits watching. EyeSpy LA 04/26/2009
In downtown Los Angeles, the Poor Dog Group passionately takes on the Space
Race in the absurdist comedy, The Internationalists.
When Sputnik was launched in the 50’s,
the Space Race exploded. The Internationalists is a frenetic commentary on America and its push to win the aforementioned race, while the country was unable to
close the racial divide. It was a bizarre time in American culture: as we advanced technologically, we were stunted socially.
We wanted to put a man on the moon, but didn’t want to put a black child in a white classroom. Americans decried Communism,
but stuttered in its own Fascism, eschewing everything that didn’t fit into the cookie cutter patterns of the perfect
nuclear family. In its alleged free society, Senator Joe McCarthy cried “Communist,” and took away the rights
of its citizens.
The Internationalists is like getting a mix tape from a lover. It is crafted with tender care, but thrown together in a mad randomness.
Time and space have no meaning. There is no linear plot, but director and show creator Jesse Bonnell throws a bunch of great
ideas about space exploration and throws them in a blender and hits frappe. It’s an intoxicating blend of wild comic
moments and chaotic craziness. There is dance, slapstick, beat poetry and even a scene from August Wilson’s Fences. The cast, Jonney Ahmanson (a famous name in the Los Angeles theater scene), Brad Culver, Andrew Gilbert, John Kern,
Jesse Saler, Cat Ventura, Adam Hunter, and Itamar Stern each bring a unique flavor to the frothy concoction.
Culver is a kinetic clown, throwing himself around the stage with gusto.
Ventura, the distaff member of the ensemble, is a talented and beautiful. Together, Culver and Ventura, turn what would be
a trite scene of a husband and wife arguing into pure poetry.
Stern portrays the Russian satellite, Sputnik. He renders the satellite as a Russian with disdain for American Capitalism,
but a healthy appetite for vodka and women. Without spoiling the surprise, it is a very revealing performance. There
is a quality of unbridled enthusiasm in every member of the Poor Dog Group.
Maybe it’s the location, a warehouse in the ass end of Los Angeles, but you can almost hear Mickey Rooney turn
to Judy Garland, punch the air and exclaim, “Hey, Judy! Let’s put on a show!”
The Internationalists may be a crazy theatrical experiment,
but it is full of a contagious joy. Seeing this play is akin to viewing “Convergence” by Jackson Pollock; it is
a crazy mess, but it’s breathtakingly beautiful at the same time. | - Mike Buzzelli
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LOS
ANGELES TIMES
Archive for Thursday, July 17, 2008 POOR DOGS DIG FOR THEATER’S BONES
By Rachel Levin July 17, 2008 in print edition H-6
Since founding the group upon earning their diplomas in May 2007 and getting settled in Los Angeles, Poor Dog’s
12 members have struggled to balance earning a living with launching their careers as professional actors. But don’t call these Poor Dogs poor. And don’t call their acting ambitions typical.
The “Poor” in their company name is “not so much in reference to our financial situation as it is an homage
to [Jerzy] Grotowski’s Poor Theatre,” says Bonnell. In his 1968 book “Towards a Poor Theatre,” Grotowski
made the case that theater should not try to compete with film; rather, it should focus its attention on the most essential
theatrical element of actors appearing in front of spectators. In keeping with the spirit of Grotowski, the Poor Dog members
are choosing – in a film town – to fix their eyes on careers in experimental theater rather than Hollywood and,
notes REDCAT Associate Director George Lugg, on a “desire to really investigate what theater is.” Their NOW Festival entry “Hey. Hey, man. Hey.” (part
of the festival’s second program, July 24-26) embodies this irreverent investigation. From an improvised scene about
an audition for a Hardee’s Philly cheesesteak commercial, the piece grew into a kind of spastic variety show –
“100 ideas thrown into 30 minutes,” says Bonnell – about the banality of labor. The smorgasbord of random
ideas expressed through music, movement, sound design, text and task is meant to mirror the bombardment of life, both its
meaningful and inconsequential moments.
“The
group is really interested in creating a reality and then instantly ripping that away, to either expose something on a deeper
level or to expose something that has absolutely nothing to do with anything else,” he says. Among the proposals the REDCAT committee received for the NOW
Festival, says Lugg, Poor Dog was “one of those groups that stood out – even though they’re so young –
as having vigor. You can really sense their smartness and playfulness.” This combination of elements has started to
pay off for Poor Dog: They had a two-month residency at Hollywood’s Elephant Theatre earlier this year, traveled to
Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival, will perform at Highways Performance Space in Santa Monica in August, and have been invited
to do work with a company in Croatia.
But even if the Poor Dogs rise to
international acclaim, they’ll continue to relish being small fries in a company town. Says Bonnell, “I like that
the type of theater that we make is an underdog here.”
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