Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead, but you probably don’t even care.

Playwright Tom Stoppard has given these two minor characters from arguably William Shakespeare’s greatest play, “Hamlet”, a stage of their own to argue about destiny, fate, life, death, to be and not to be.

Director Anthony Galleran brings Stoppard’s 1966 play “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead” to the Hunger Artists Theater in Fullerton and made the production seem larger than it actually is. The theater, a dinky place, expanded with visual simplicity and heavy themes. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern debuted their actual feelings toward the great tragic hero, Hamlet, who weaved in and out of the scenes and seamlessly displayed his own story to the abysmal few who have to yet to read it.

Yes, Hamlet is a great character. And yes, he is a hard one to play. Ryan Knight, playing Hamlet, did not have much to work with: a few scenes spliced in with out of context emotions and an abnormally long time to hide in a box. To be frank, Knight was a fine Hamlet. And his cohorts represented the other well-known characters just as well, although the audience failed to laugh or snigger at Claudius’ contrived funny moments. But whenever the famous story got stage time, even the snippets seemed too long. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were the only characters to care about.

It wasn’t just their comedy, which was rapid yet perfectly timed. It wasn’t just their soliloquies on destiny, which carried out nicely and were always welcome. The best part about watching those two was their relationship.

Topher Mauerhan, as Rosencrantz, was dumb, but in the most perfect amount. He did not overdo it, as so many actors tend to do when playing the idiot. He was vulnerable and loveable and laughable all at the same time. Though his character was an absolute dunce, Mauerhan did not let Rosencrantz die as one. His monologue was honest and his dialogues were thoughtful, a fine example of a character who is the source of unexpected truths: “What’s the point of living if you’re not happy?”

But it was Guildenstern, played by Gregory Spradlin, who illuminated his relationship with Rosencrantz. Spradlin could have ignored Maurehan’s silliness and denseness. Instead, he was patient. They are together in this little quest to unveil the source of Hamlet’s curious behavior. When they realize they are on a much larger, cosmological quest and must ask the hard questions, Guildenstern does not lash out at his dimmer friend’s inability to keep up. They share an understanding and Guildenstern’s restraint and visible annoyance is endearing. It seemed the two had been friends for ages.

Spradlin, noticeably present on stage, had a remarkable voice. It’s rare to find an actor these days whose voice is the thing you remember. But there was something about the way he controlled it and still let emotion come through.

Another character worth mentioning is The Player, played by Mark Coyan, a man who was probably born to entertain. He was big and engaging and led his sorry squad well. Only the audience did not seem to appreciate his or any other actor’s energy—this is the same audience that doesn’t find scene change applause part of their own fate. The lack of energy from the seats, though, was made up for on the stage. Again, Galleran knew how to make the most of his space.

“Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead”, which had nearly no plot, was an interesting spin-off and offers an opportunity to ask earnest questions. The Hunger Artists Theater’s rendition did more to emphasize the relationships of those asking. While their word games and Abbott and Costello rapidity were fun, neither Rosencrantz nor Guildenstern would have come to any conclusion without being alongside the other. Guildenstern’s simple look at the blacked out Rosencrantz said more than their monologues ever could have.

You might not care that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern have met their fate; but their journey to it is what will make you think and care about your own.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead runs Aug. 27th – Sep. 19th 2010

Fri. & Sat. – 8:00 pm

Sun. – 7:00 pm

General Admission: $18

Students/Seniors (with ID): $15

Images courtesy of the Hunger Artists Theater

“There’s something wrong between the two of you. Something not compatible. Like chalk and cheese.” –Dodge

The Hunger Artists continue to astound me with their ability to perform such a wide variety of plays, and all with aplomb.

Buried Child is a pulitzer winning play, written by Sam Shepard. Its basic theme is the slow death and disillusionment with family and the American dream. More specifically, it tells of this family’s secret that haunts them and is eating away at them, mentally, emotionally and physically. The truth of it all is unearthed when Vince, their son/grandson and his girlfriend, Shelly, pay a visit.

Trying to accurately describe the play is difficult, for it feels as if nothing happens, yet at the same time everything happens. It all takes place in the family’s farmhouse in Illinois. The father, Dodge (Ken Dalena) is a sick, older man, who spends most his time watching TV (which on that note, I enjoyed the blue light emanating from the TV–it was a great effect, making it appear he was actually watching it and also adding a realistic light effect on him) who also has a supply of alcohol hidden under the couch cushion. The mother, Halie (Sandra Mahanna) spends most her time either rambling on from upstairs, or is out with Father Dewis (Tyler Campbell), a Protestant preacher, who she not so secretly is having an affair with. There’s also their three sons: Tilden (Anthony Galleran), who mentally doesn’t seem all there and emotionally seems to be dealing with a lot, Bradley (Robert Tully), who physically is missing a leg because of a chainsaw accident, and Ansel, a third child who is dead, yet holds a strong place in Halie’s heart, idolizing him, seeing what could have been. Enter Vince (Eric Satterberg), the son/grandson whom no one seems to remember and his girlfriend, Shelly (Kelly Sue Eder). There also seems to be something strange going on with their farm–corn and other vegetables haven’t grown in thirty years, yet Tilden returns every time with another armful of crops.

It’s an intelligent and heavy drama–definitely not one goes to see when you’re looking to cheer yourself up. Although maybe if you’re thinking your family is extremely dysfunctional seeing Buried Child will at least let you rethink that. It’s a mix of genres–at heart it’s a realism, since it’s a portrait of a dysfunctional family, however there is use of symbolism at times feels a bit dream-like, and there is humor, but of the dark and sardonic kind.

The acting is stellar as usual–this is the third time I’ve seen Anthony Galleran in a production and it’s wonderful to see his range, since none of his character’s are alike, yet he embodies each of them. The title gives the audience a hint as to what the secret is, but it wasn’t until the end of the second act that you truly know the whole truth and I’m pretty sure I was holding my breath towards the end, having now started to piece the puzzle together yet not quite believing it.

The play originally was performed in 1978, however it doesn’t seem dated; it’s just as relevant now as then. Which is perhaps why Hunger Artists picked to perform it–Buried Child is a timeless piece, and with the economic struggles going on now, we can relate to trying to get by in anyway we can. And no matter what’s going on in the world, we all have secrets we want to stay buried.

To find out more on Hunger Artists Theater please visit their website at http://hungerartists.com/

Photos taken by Thai Chau

“Should we start the soup with who we love and who we don’t?” –King Henry II,  The Lion in Winter

Well I returned to Hunger Artists Theatre to see The Lion in Winter, which is quite a different play from Frankenstein in Love. It was rather remarkable how different the stage looked from the rather elaborate set before, representing several locations, to the now almost bare stage; the only props were a table with chairs and a throne, with a few Christmas decorations to remind one of the season.

The premise of the play is this: It is Christmas Eve, year 1183, at King Henry II’s court, where his wife Queen Eleanor (whom King Henry has had imprisoned in a tower), and three sons, Richard, Geoffrey and John have all gathered to settle certain affairs. These affairs are who is to be the next king? Eleanor wants their eldest, Richard, while Henry wants their youngest John to take the throne. Geoffrey constantly switches sides, playing whichever one seems to (currently) be giving him the best offer. King Philip of France pays a visit, adding another twist to their strategizing, for he comes to remind Henry of a treaty he signed several years earlier, promising to have the heir of the throne to marry Philip’s sister. However, Alais has been Henry’s mistress for the past seven years so he is reluctant to give her to any of his sons.

When I read the premise of The Lion in Winter beforehand, it sounded very much like a drama–actually it brought to mind Shakespeare, and it definitely has similar elements, however it has many marvelous moments of humor. (Which is Shakespearean too–Hamlet always makes me laugh out loud at moments. Is that just me?) Although the parts that stuck with me the most were the performances of Mark Coyan and Amber Scott, who gave such life to their Henry and Eleanor, respectively. I could feel how much this couple hated yet loved each other. They wanted to cheat and deceive each other out of everything and anything, just to say they were the victor, yet they knew this about each other and loved every minute of it. I don’t think they truly cared about the outcome, but enjoyed the scheming so much. You can definitely see where their children get it from.

What is so ironic, is the main argument is whom is to become the next king, which son will get chosen, yet I felt that Henry and Eleanor cared more about themselves, obviously but also about each other than they did their sons; that their sons were mere devices and excuses to see each other, to spend time together. Theirs is a relationship that has gotten lost along the way, fallen apart so many times you wonder what’s holding them together, but when they share that stage you feel that spark, that sexual tension that’s so delightful. Truly, they steal the show, for I look forward to any scenes they share together. Scott as Eleanor was especially enchanting–she was wonderfully conniving and charming.

The script of the play itself seems so fresh, it’s rather interesting to think of it as “historical”–either because of the 12th century time period of the characters or the 1960’s of the time it was written–yet I find it remains relatable in the 21st century. Although the plot is historically based, the main themes are really family, and even royalty has dysfunctional lives (perhaps more so, since we can’t really start a war over a family tiff).

It was a nice play for the season–what better defines December than Christmas and dysfunctional family? And I remain impressed with the Hunger Artists Theatre, not only for their choices of scripts, but their stellar actors. It may be a small theatre, but certainly not small on talent. If you have a chance, see The Lion in Winter–it plays until December 20, Fridays and Saturdays at 8PM and Sundays at 7PM, with a special performance on Thursday, December 17 at 8pm. And if you go this coming Friday or Saturday you can catch a performance of the OC Underground Burlesque Society. Now if that doesn’t say Christmas, I don’t know what does.

Photos provided by The Hunger Artists Theater Company

Although the theatre itself is small, and it’s location makes you wonder what you’re getting yourself into, once you sit down and the (bloody) curtain comes up, you realize it masks the fact that truly stellar work is done here.  The theatre is the Hunger Artists Theatre Company in Fullerton, right near CSU Fullerton. As best put by the managing director, Anthony Galleran “It was founded in 1996 by a group of longtime friends who met while studying at OCC’s repertory theatre. Our vision/mission/goal is to produce a combination of new, classical, and alternative works for the Orange County community, while fostering an environment for actors, directors, writers, and technicians to hone their craft.”

My first experience with Hunger Artists Theatre was in seeing Frankenstein in Love. El Coco, a character from the play, utters this line towards the beginning: “without Plato or heroin I’d be a lunatic.”

And that’s when I knew this was going to be quite the ride.

If I were to sum up Frankenstein in Love with a cliche it would be “expect the unexpected.” And just like clocks, even overused cliches ring true twice a day. I have to admit I went into the play expecting a love story–a slightly bizarre one seeing as Frankenstein is one of the lovers, but a love story nonetheless. Don’t get me wrong, love is an element, but really what isn’t in Clive Barker’s play? (Yes, THAT Clive Barker, the one known for his horror stories, especially the Hellraiser series. )

The story begins with Maria Reina Duran, a prostitute, erm excuse me, I mean a palm reader who just happens to get paid for bringing pleasure to her clients, telling us she is already dead, a ghost telling us what happened to lead up to her death, and also what happened after, for even after her death she is a part of this post-apocalyptic world. It all takes place in a fictional Central American country, run by the dictator, President Perez, but is currently in the process of being overthrown by guerilla forces, the leader of them being Cesar Guerrero, aka El Coco. While hunting down Perez, El Coco and his faithful goon, Cockatoo, discover an underground lab run by none other than Dr. Frankenstein whom they learn has been performing experiments on humans.

Where is the love story, you ask? (As I’m sure you are because I was. Well actually a lot of questions were running through my brain while watching.) There is actually a love triangle between Dr. Frankenstein, El Coco, and Veronique, Frankenstein’s creation.

But before we get to that, we are treated to a very multi-layered, intense story involving life and death, (of course), along with politics, sexuality, cannibalism as well as a little cross-dressing. Think Rocky Horror, but a lot more serious, no music, and less camp. Well, a bit campy, but all the best things are. As the director, Andrew Vonderscmitt said “you have to be crazy to stage this.” And I for one, love me a little crazy. Vonderscmitt also loved the fact that the play had so many possibilities, and that it’s very different from anything else out there.

What truly held all the craziness for me was the acting–it was superb. You were pulled into their world immediately, coming up for a breath during the 15 minute intermission while you tried to wrap your head around everything you’ve seen and heard, to dive right back into the second act. These actors are all professional, having acted in many other productions prior, and they loved this script so much, that they donated their time, forgoing a paycheck to get to work on it. That’s passion and commitment to one’s craft. And as I said, you could see that in their performances–because this play has so many elements, and often out-there ideas, that the wrong cast could have completely ruined it! Instead Barker’s work was raised up by their and Vonderschmitt’s dedication, to do the play justice.

Frankenstein in Love isn’t a play for everyone, but that’s not a bad thing–it’s not trying to appeal to everyone and instead is a fascinating thing to feast your eyes on–it’s visually graphic, literally and figuratively, but it also makes you think, makes you question, makes you pause afterward. It will haunt you with its image of a hell on earth–you best be a firewalker if you dare to proceed.

photos courtesy of Hunger Artist Theater