Before it's run ends, I wanted to offer some comments on The People's Sword in the Stone. Put on by Quest Theater Ensemble, the traditional story receives a new production at the company's home base, St. Gregory the Great: a Catholic parish which has a strong relationship with the artistic community in Chicago.
Quest is a collective of local theater types who offer free performances (donations are accepted) to the community. Taking on intriguing works and giving them new twists is their forte. One of the most notable aspects of their offerings is the regular inclusion of puppetry. This creates another level of interplay and brings something interesting to reach out to audiences of all ages.
This rendition of Sword in the Stone has here a new book (by director Andy Park) and score (of Scott C. Lamps, musical director) which makes it one of the best shows from Quest which I have seen. Dealing with some serious matters of mores, strong wills, and life's consequences in a still fun, fantasaic style the piece takes us through the dramatic story line in a light spirited manner. Indeed, it is a hallmark of their group's works to often take up issues which are deep and "grown up", but in a way which is accessible and entertaining even to children in a simple way. It is refreshing to find shows which have such broad appeal.
Vincent L. Lonegran as Merlin does an excellent job weaving his magic in a believable way. Jason Bowen (managing director of Quest) plays a comic Sir Ector. The best acting was from Scott J. Sumerak as Arthur. He also has an excellent singing voice, though the extended range of his part called for more than he seemed comfortable with handling. And yet the musical writing was well enough overall for me to want to recall it by purchasing a cast recording.
Their production runs through Aug. 19 at the Blue Theater, 1609 W. Gregory.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
A Gala Evening
Up to Ravinia Saturday night. It was the Gala Benefit Evening. Which means two things: top quality performances and lots of rich people.
I arrived in time for the procession of the tuxedoed elites. It's the walk from dinner tent to music pavilion which those who are there for the Gala event must make for the concert, itself. It takes them at least twenty minutes and is accompanied by baroque trumpeting on the sound system.
I watched them pass while snatching my place to stand at the back of the seating area. So much money here then gone. (Not one even offered me a dime, let alone work. Perhaps if I had held up a cardboard sign.) At least they got to their seats relatively on schedule, meaning we didn't have to wait much. In the past this has been a problem. One would think that the town's high society would have enough sense to actually sit down and shut up while we peons observe their impoliteness. But then, the "real lovers of music", perhaps are better cultured in manners and such than this crowd of North Shore types.
The dinner tent, itself, was magnificent. Glowing from the back of the park's lawn, it was white with sidewalls curtained to allows a peak inside. Burnt umber drapes shone under lighting all the way across the park. Crystal centerpieces glimmered fantastic. And tables clothed deep in green. I wish I had a picture, but with the rain, I wisely left the camera home.
The meal looked marvelous. Check out the offerings!
One wonders how much it all cost. (It is reported that the event raised 1.7 million.)
Then the baton fell. The National Anthem was sung, led onstage by two Ravinia bigwigs. They jokingly dubbed themselves "The Two Tenors". Thank you, thank you, oh and thank YOU. Now, that those appreciations are out of the way, I'd just like to offer MY gratitude to the Women's Board for bringing together this night "which we will not soon forget."
Hearing Placido Domingo in recital is an opportunity which one does not often have. Which made springing fifty bucks for a mere lawn admission well worthwhile. As a special treat, a big video screen was set up to enable those on the lawn to watch. It is an idea which Ravinia ought to consider employing more often, say, when there is a particularly special event onstage or performance piece worth seeing and not just hearing. But I didn't get to see him on "TV". Instead, I found my oft park perch behind the pavilion. It's canopy kept me nicely dry on this rainy night. The hearty lawn crowd proved a delightful panoply with their colorful umbrellas decorating the field as one looked back upon the scene.
It takes some time to accustom oneself to the sound of opera over amplification. I found myself ducking in, tilting my ear in any way which might give me a more clean sound scape. Ah, and the crickets like to sing along, of course! Indeed, Placido's first number was slightly difficult to listen to and seemed a bit overbearing. But this was straightened out soon enough for his reappearance thereafter. The wonderful thing about this most astounding of vocalists is his ability to offer warmth, depth, yet cleanness of vocal lyricism. Nothing overdone. Full yet lovely. Just genuine, believable. Indeed, I would readily take him over any other opera star out there today. Perhaps best yet were the duets where he paired with Ana Maria Martinez. The sheer drama inherent to the works combined with these voices lifted the experience to another level.
Martinez, indeed, acquitted herself well. With strong, bold voice that can also lilt in places she paced through several pieces both as soloist and alongside Placido. One of the most impressive moments was their take on Bernstein's "Tonight" from West Side Story. Martinez sang the English cleanly while Domingo added an interesting element with his wonderful accent. Ravenous applause began on the lawn and worked it's way up to the stage at it's end.
And, of course, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra sounded superb under it's summer director, James Conlon. I especially enjoyed their offering of Korngold's Prelude, Serenade and Intermezzo from Der Schneeman ("The Snowman").
An extended series of encores followed and included Domingo and Martinez engaged in dancing to a final waltz from "The Merry Widow".
The overall selections for a concert like this were impressive for their wide range. Not only were several languages and operatic styles involved, but they avoided the mere collection of all too predictable standards which sometimes take over such gala events to offer something more eclectic and of overarching appeal. Included were, certainly, well known gems, but also the offbeat and lesser performed. Below is the program list:
After the concert I had the chance to stand humbly united amidst the men of means, proving that we all are equal at the urinal. Back for drinks they then proceeded. And I to the awaiting rail car which would bring me happily home.
I arrived in time for the procession of the tuxedoed elites. It's the walk from dinner tent to music pavilion which those who are there for the Gala event must make for the concert, itself. It takes them at least twenty minutes and is accompanied by baroque trumpeting on the sound system.
I watched them pass while snatching my place to stand at the back of the seating area. So much money here then gone. (Not one even offered me a dime, let alone work. Perhaps if I had held up a cardboard sign.) At least they got to their seats relatively on schedule, meaning we didn't have to wait much. In the past this has been a problem. One would think that the town's high society would have enough sense to actually sit down and shut up while we peons observe their impoliteness. But then, the "real lovers of music", perhaps are better cultured in manners and such than this crowd of North Shore types.
The dinner tent, itself, was magnificent. Glowing from the back of the park's lawn, it was white with sidewalls curtained to allows a peak inside. Burnt umber drapes shone under lighting all the way across the park. Crystal centerpieces glimmered fantastic. And tables clothed deep in green. I wish I had a picture, but with the rain, I wisely left the camera home.
The meal looked marvelous. Check out the offerings!
One wonders how much it all cost. (It is reported that the event raised 1.7 million.)
Then the baton fell. The National Anthem was sung, led onstage by two Ravinia bigwigs. They jokingly dubbed themselves "The Two Tenors". Thank you, thank you, oh and thank YOU. Now, that those appreciations are out of the way, I'd just like to offer MY gratitude to the Women's Board for bringing together this night "which we will not soon forget."
Hearing Placido Domingo in recital is an opportunity which one does not often have. Which made springing fifty bucks for a mere lawn admission well worthwhile. As a special treat, a big video screen was set up to enable those on the lawn to watch. It is an idea which Ravinia ought to consider employing more often, say, when there is a particularly special event onstage or performance piece worth seeing and not just hearing. But I didn't get to see him on "TV". Instead, I found my oft park perch behind the pavilion. It's canopy kept me nicely dry on this rainy night. The hearty lawn crowd proved a delightful panoply with their colorful umbrellas decorating the field as one looked back upon the scene.
It takes some time to accustom oneself to the sound of opera over amplification. I found myself ducking in, tilting my ear in any way which might give me a more clean sound scape. Ah, and the crickets like to sing along, of course! Indeed, Placido's first number was slightly difficult to listen to and seemed a bit overbearing. But this was straightened out soon enough for his reappearance thereafter. The wonderful thing about this most astounding of vocalists is his ability to offer warmth, depth, yet cleanness of vocal lyricism. Nothing overdone. Full yet lovely. Just genuine, believable. Indeed, I would readily take him over any other opera star out there today. Perhaps best yet were the duets where he paired with Ana Maria Martinez. The sheer drama inherent to the works combined with these voices lifted the experience to another level.
Martinez, indeed, acquitted herself well. With strong, bold voice that can also lilt in places she paced through several pieces both as soloist and alongside Placido. One of the most impressive moments was their take on Bernstein's "Tonight" from West Side Story. Martinez sang the English cleanly while Domingo added an interesting element with his wonderful accent. Ravenous applause began on the lawn and worked it's way up to the stage at it's end.
And, of course, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra sounded superb under it's summer director, James Conlon. I especially enjoyed their offering of Korngold's Prelude, Serenade and Intermezzo from Der Schneeman ("The Snowman").
An extended series of encores followed and included Domingo and Martinez engaged in dancing to a final waltz from "The Merry Widow".
The overall selections for a concert like this were impressive for their wide range. Not only were several languages and operatic styles involved, but they avoided the mere collection of all too predictable standards which sometimes take over such gala events to offer something more eclectic and of overarching appeal. Included were, certainly, well known gems, but also the offbeat and lesser performed. Below is the program list:
After the concert I had the chance to stand humbly united amidst the men of means, proving that we all are equal at the urinal. Back for drinks they then proceeded. And I to the awaiting rail car which would bring me happily home.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Koko at Velvet
Caught the Koko Trio at The Velvet Lounge last Thursday night.
In their second set, the group presented a series of original works by leader Mike Avery (drums). I especially enjoyed the extended piece entitled, "The Children's Suite". "Chi City" also offered something enjoyable for the ear. Soloing was fine by every player, but I particularly noted the interventions of bassist Nils Hollenberger. It seemed that at every opportunity he was able to really pick things up and offer interesting thoughts.
Raise the Flag
Above the scoreboard at historic Wrigley Field fly flags.
They indicate the National League standings: in East, Central, West; each on its respective pole.
In 1984, the Cubs were chasing New York's Mets. A hated rival, we finally caught them about this time of year. I was at the early August game when the two teams matched up. Our Cubs won to topple the division leaders and take sole possession of 1st. They never looked back.
After the game no one would leave. For maybe 10, 15 minutes a full house stayed in place waiting, watching. Then it happened. The pennants came down, and shortly thereafter were raised again. This time with the Cubs' herald atop. A raucous response eminated from the celebratory crowd.
For some time over the last weeks, the Cubs have been on the chase. Not only have fans followed the games of their favorite home town team, but those of the Milwaukee Brewers, also. Two nights ago, I was there. With a win over the Phillies and a Milwaukee loss (ironically to the detestable Mets), the Cubs completed the climb to overcome the Brew Crew by a lone percentage point in winning percentage.
The fans were excited and hardly anyone left. A ninth inning rally brought in the winning run and led the Cubs to victory. We sang and celebrated. Not as many stayed around beyond the 9th as 23 years ago. But the mindful remained in expectation. Then, there it was. A thing of heavenly beauty. After that game, our flag arose, now where it belonged.
Today the Cubs play those Mets. Beating them back would only be added joy!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Breakfast
One of the best breakfasts in Chicago can be had at Pauline's.
It's on Ravenswood, right along the Metra tracks of the old Chicago and Northwestern line to Milwaukee (now the Union Pacific cut back to Kenosha.... a worthwhile trip too). In an old double storefront building with al fresco dining out front. The place has a lot of character. You're taken back to a time of a few decades past. Complete with authentic signage from the era (I want my green stamps that one proclaims they offer), the diner obviously hasn't changed much over the years. Red and green colors the walls. Even the toilet room has some charm. The food is reasonably priced, if a little more than what you might pay in other locales, but it is worth every penny. Your food will be offered artistically. And it will taste heavenly.
Pauline's is open from 7 - 3 daily and also offers lunch after 10:30 - 11:00. A trip there is more than just a meal, it's an experience.
After eating, take a walk through the neighborhood and enjoy the architecture. (I happened across an old wood garage which is unique.) Or tour the old large cemetery nearby, Rosehill.
It's on Ravenswood, right along the Metra tracks of the old Chicago and Northwestern line to Milwaukee (now the Union Pacific cut back to Kenosha.... a worthwhile trip too). In an old double storefront building with al fresco dining out front. The place has a lot of character. You're taken back to a time of a few decades past. Complete with authentic signage from the era (I want my green stamps that one proclaims they offer), the diner obviously hasn't changed much over the years. Red and green colors the walls. Even the toilet room has some charm. The food is reasonably priced, if a little more than what you might pay in other locales, but it is worth every penny. Your food will be offered artistically. And it will taste heavenly.
Pauline's is open from 7 - 3 daily and also offers lunch after 10:30 - 11:00. A trip there is more than just a meal, it's an experience.
After eating, take a walk through the neighborhood and enjoy the architecture. (I happened across an old wood garage which is unique.) Or tour the old large cemetery nearby, Rosehill.
Friday, July 27, 2007
O Good St. Anne...
Back to the matriarchal parish last night. Well, alright, it isn't quite that. But, in effect it is.
My grandmother was from St. Agnes in Brighton Park. It was the Irish ethnic parish those days. (And, tracing it further back, I think that her mom or grandmother actually first registered at Holy Family on Roosevelt Rd.) But Grandma was who I knew.
St. Agnes got shut down several years back in the major round of parish closings under the Archbishop of Chicago, Cardinal Bernardin's, direction. Actually, so did the parish which I was at yesterday... kind of.
St. Joseph Parish was founded in the late 1800s. By the turn of the century (that would be LAST century), the church was under the charge of French priests (ministering to the French Catholic community). They brought with them a particular devotion to St. Anne. Along came a significant relic soon thereafter. And the shrine was founded, with Anne's name tagged on to the church's title.
Over the years, the great novena turned into a big event. With hymns, processions, prayers offered heartfelt the entire community came to appreciate that there was something special happening here. In this place miracles occurred. (The below photo depicts canes, crutches, shoes, and other artifacts which were left in tribute to physical healings alone.) Truly the presence of the Lord has been long at work on this lot of land.
Now over 100 years strong, it continues still. Each year faithful devotees gather again at 38th Place and California over nine days leading up to the feast of St. Anne on July 26. They walk through the streets in song and prayer past households with candles or statues devoutly decorating the porch. The curious come out of their homes to witness, while others stop to watch and see what this grand gathering is all about.
But you don't have to be Catholic to understand.
Which leads me back to my own family's history. Grandpa lived down the block back in the day, growing up. In an old apartment which is still there. He was one of those types who came out just to experience the event. Though never a religious man, he sure can sing the noted processional song which he remembers so well, even now in old age.
So again, I made the pilgrimage back. Down Archer Avenue I walked, past the funeral home on 38th Street, across the the CTA carbarn apron. Past the public school which is the old St. Agnes grammar. Stare at the empty field where that parish Church of my grandmother's side, so well known; so loved though gone, once stood. A glance at the house where her brother last lived, and that of my Godmother's one time abode. Alas, at the step of the holy doors... and inside.
Therein I stood with Godfather and Great Aunt (grandmother's sis). Here in that place where the family long has been graced. This church (Sts. Joseph & Anne) next door (well, down the block) from St. Agnes are now together merged. They call the combination community Our Lady of Fatima these days. Somehow, it's fitting. Everyone from the neighborhood has knelt herein. Indeed, I heard not a few remembrances growing up about how Gram would stop in at the shrine to pray whether while young or over the years. St. Anne, also, is a grandmother of note. So, here, we tonight return.
It's about tradition. Reconnecting to roots. Honoring a heroine, Anne. Walking in footsteps. Creating new tracks. This is our culture. Herein lies life.
My grandmother was from St. Agnes in Brighton Park. It was the Irish ethnic parish those days. (And, tracing it further back, I think that her mom or grandmother actually first registered at Holy Family on Roosevelt Rd.) But Grandma was who I knew.
St. Agnes got shut down several years back in the major round of parish closings under the Archbishop of Chicago, Cardinal Bernardin's, direction. Actually, so did the parish which I was at yesterday... kind of.
St. Joseph Parish was founded in the late 1800s. By the turn of the century (that would be LAST century), the church was under the charge of French priests (ministering to the French Catholic community). They brought with them a particular devotion to St. Anne. Along came a significant relic soon thereafter. And the shrine was founded, with Anne's name tagged on to the church's title.
Over the years, the great novena turned into a big event. With hymns, processions, prayers offered heartfelt the entire community came to appreciate that there was something special happening here. In this place miracles occurred. (The below photo depicts canes, crutches, shoes, and other artifacts which were left in tribute to physical healings alone.) Truly the presence of the Lord has been long at work on this lot of land.
Now over 100 years strong, it continues still. Each year faithful devotees gather again at 38th Place and California over nine days leading up to the feast of St. Anne on July 26. They walk through the streets in song and prayer past households with candles or statues devoutly decorating the porch. The curious come out of their homes to witness, while others stop to watch and see what this grand gathering is all about.
But you don't have to be Catholic to understand.
Which leads me back to my own family's history. Grandpa lived down the block back in the day, growing up. In an old apartment which is still there. He was one of those types who came out just to experience the event. Though never a religious man, he sure can sing the noted processional song which he remembers so well, even now in old age.
So again, I made the pilgrimage back. Down Archer Avenue I walked, past the funeral home on 38th Street, across the the CTA carbarn apron. Past the public school which is the old St. Agnes grammar. Stare at the empty field where that parish Church of my grandmother's side, so well known; so loved though gone, once stood. A glance at the house where her brother last lived, and that of my Godmother's one time abode. Alas, at the step of the holy doors... and inside.
Therein I stood with Godfather and Great Aunt (grandmother's sis). Here in that place where the family long has been graced. This church (Sts. Joseph & Anne) next door (well, down the block) from St. Agnes are now together merged. They call the combination community Our Lady of Fatima these days. Somehow, it's fitting. Everyone from the neighborhood has knelt herein. Indeed, I heard not a few remembrances growing up about how Gram would stop in at the shrine to pray whether while young or over the years. St. Anne, also, is a grandmother of note. So, here, we tonight return.
It's about tradition. Reconnecting to roots. Honoring a heroine, Anne. Walking in footsteps. Creating new tracks. This is our culture. Herein lies life.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
A wing and a prayer
Passing a Church plaza this past dusk , I heard birds. Looking up, there they were frolicking about in the evening air. I stopped several minutes and watched them flutter, fly through the sky in this, their avian playground. Pause and be pleased by the nature around you amidst a hectic, busy life, I thought, lest life itself pass by unnoticed. Allow your heart to be lifted aloft by the birds above.
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