(IFC Films)

Steven Soderbergh's four-hour epic treatment of Che Guevara (played by Benicio Del Toro) opens Friday at the Varsity. (Our review here.) Among the credited screenwriters is Peter Buchman, once a playwright here in town associated with the old Annex Theatre during the '90s. After a script collaboration with part-time local screenwriter Chris McQuarrie (The Usual Suspects), Buchman left town and began getting work in Hollywood, including Jurassic Park III. (Also Eragon, ugh.)

His stage productions here included Airsick (1995) and Zero G (1997). Neither of which, unfortunately, featured dinosaurs or Catalina Sandino Moreno (pictured above with Del Toro).

Longenbaugh writes in about the snowfall fallout for local theaters:

Snowpocalypse '08, when our city leaders' innovative policy of dealing with winter storms was to keep snowplows well away from dangerous snow-filled streets, made a dismal Christmas for retailers even worse. While storefronts suffered, it had an even larger impact on area theaters, many of who were in the middle of running their Christmas cash cows. "If there's one show that you really can't extend an extra week, it's a Christmas show," says Taproot Theatre's artistic director Scott Nolte. "People are pretty much done with the whole topic by January." More >>

Sandra Kurtz saw this new cabaret show over the weekend. Her short review will be in print this Wednesday, but here's her long take:

Vintage Steps
A charming (but not too retro) cabaret antidote to post-holiday stress.
By Sandra Kurtz

The Century Ballroom's gently sparkling new production, Tout de Suite, pays tribute to both its vaudeville ancestors and their trendy descendants of today. It's a come-to-life stage version of those movie musicals where everyone meets at the club to put on a show. Or, if you prefer a TV analogy: Tout de Suite also recalls those old primetime variety programs that offered a straightforward collection of separate acts, rather than a story or overarching theme.

Tout opens with the saucy Lauchettes (Monica Gilliam, Ricki Mason, and Jenna Bean Veatch), who periodically return to link the evening's stage bits. Like the rest of the show, they give a sweeter interpretation of the hard-edged burlesque stereotype, more Ginger Rogers than Bob Fosse. This extends to the dances as well--not the high-test, hypersexualized versions we see on Dancing With the Stars, but very skilled steps we might learn ourselves.More >>

Most theatre companies had the luxury of canceling weekend shows due to inclement weather -- even PNB's Nutcracker. But if you were Bishop Blanchet High School, and you had the Moore rented out for a four-day, six-show run of A Christmas Carol, rescheduling wasn't an option. Hence, the Greenlake-area school instituted a liberal ticket policy, crossed its fingers, and hoped its loyalists would brave the ice. Brave it they did, and the onstage Braves (this'd be the nickname of the school's athletic teams) delivered a presciently economical, Tim Burton-esque rendering of the Dickensian classic that made attendees proud to have abandoned their wood stoves.

Full dislcosure: I am an alum of the Blanchet drama program, having played the town drunk in Wonderful Town my senior year (yep, typecasting was alive and well back then). That play, like most BHS productions, was three hours long with an intermission and featured a lot of showy roles for upperclassmen who'd waited patiently to take the longest of bows. By contrast, A Christmas Carol came in at about the running time of an Adam Sandler movie, and required no mid-show break. While John Rising's Scrooge remained onstage for most of the show, much of his time there was spent silently viewing his past, present, and future. Mostly, the show was a cavalcade of sublime 10-minute performances, a master's course in thespian sprinting highlighted by the performances of Karl Johnson (Tiny Tim), tap-dancin' Kurt Langmeyer (Ghost of Christmas Present), and Parker Viydo, whose silvery, wild-haired Marley was made up to look like the long lost lovechild of Edward Scissorhands and the Tin Man.

In a way, that people had to overcome Mother Nature's hardest left hook simply to get to the show was fitting. A Christmas Carol is all about recognizing that as bad as you might have it, someone's got it worse -- a fitting message in a worsening economic recession with the potential to slip into a full-blown depression. As a result, my fellow onlookers and I felt the full thrust of Dickens' tale there at the Moore, just in the (saint) nick of time.

I'm absolutely giddy! Last week I reviewed Seven Brides for Seven Brothers --which you should really check out if you haven't yet--and gushed about its incredibly talented (and adorable) star Mo Brady.

...And he wrote me back a love letter! Okay, fine. He sent me a signed photo. Isn't he cute? Alas, he forgot to include his phone number. But I'm sure it was an accident.

 

I'm officially in love. With Mo Brady. In case you're wondering who the hell that is, he's the darling that plays Gideon in 5th Avenue Theatre's production of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

The show, which runs through December 28, is a rollickin' foot stompin' adventure set in the Oregon Territory in 1950. It's a lot like Disneyland's Country Bear Jamboree, except with people instead of those creepy ass bears.

The production begins with Adam (Edward Watts) heading into town to find himself a wife. When the fiery Milly (Laura Griffith) accepts his proposal, she thinks she's headed for a peaceful romantic life in the mountains--that is, until she discovers that Adam actually has six roommates. Those roommates are his incredibly messy and poorly mannered brothers. Milly decides to reform them into gentlemen so that they can find wives of their own. Shit really hits the fan when the brothers kidnap six women to marry them.

...Okay, so that last bit probably sounds as creepy, if not creepier, than those Jamboree bears. But suspend your thoughts on just how morally (and legally) wrong it is to kidnap six women for the time being. C'mon. It's a musical.

Obviously, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers is a tad different from other musicals. The first 20 minutes of the show were a little strange, as it took us awhile to get used to seeing a big guy with an Abraham Lincoln beard singing in a Chinese-themed theater.  

Once the storyline kicked off however, it was easy to become absorbed in the production. Catchy songs like "Goin' Courtin'" and "Bless Your Beautiful Hide" had the audience clapping (as did the buff shirtless men).

Watts and Griffith are fantastic in the lead roles. But the real scene stealer is Adam's youngest brother Gideon (Mo Brady.) A tiny guy with a big voice, he tromps through Oregon declaring his love for an adorable girl named Alice. And he won loads of applause in his incredibly charming portrayal. I know I'm gushing, but he's really great.

ANYWAY. Tickets for Seven Brides for Seven Brothers run from $22-$81. In the meantime, if you're curious about the show and its performers, you can check out 5th Avenue Theatre's backstage blog, which my pseudo boyfriend writes on quite often. It's a good read if you're curious about the work that goes into putting on a full fledged musical.

Intiman's artistic director Bartlett Sher will be continuing his transition to Broadway, reports The New York Times. After winning a Tony for his revival of South Pacific, he'll next be remounting Joe Turner's Come and Gone, by the late August Wilson (1945-2005), who spent the last few decades of his life here in Seattle. As John Longenbaugh has written, and we have previously noted, Sher's had one foot out the door for a while. But it's nice to see him pack a text from Seattle in his suitcase. Joe Turner was first staged in 1984; it's the second portion of Wilson's so-called Pittsburgh Cycle. Four years later, it won a Tony on Broadway. The New York revival is scheduled for April of next year.

The Seattle International Comedy Competition is again underway, and tonight you can see 16 comics vie at Intiman to reach the next round of the judged contest. Venues for the showcase, in which 32 comedians are whittled down to a final elite group, range all around Puget Sound--from Vashon to Bellingham. Per the SICC Web site, the final round runs Tues. Nov. 25 to Sun. Nov. 30. That last event is at the Comedy Underground.

Two years ago, I followed the 27th such event for a story on the local comedy scene. That piece included some talented locals who'll again be competing this year: Geoff Brousseau, Daniel Carroll, and Emmett Montgomery. Add to that list some other local jesters, like Justin Rupple, Drew Barth, Kortney Shane Williams, Blaine Reeder, and Susan James. (Nice to see more women this year.) Other comics come from Canada and L.A.; a few you may recognize from late-night TV (or at least YouTube). And all are looking for, yes, their big break.

Local comedy has struggled since the great '70s into '80s boom that gave us Steve Martin, Robin Williams (at the Paramount Dec. 5-6), and Jerry Seinfeld. Even if not every joke scores during this month-long laugh-off, there's much to admire in the contestants' sheer determination. It's a bit like amateur theater. Most everyone has a day job, and they tell jokes at night for the love of performing, not the big paycheck. And, trust me, their material gets better and their confidence grows palpably with a fuller house and engaged audience. It's a lot more participatory in that regard, and often more fun, than your average night of theater.

Intiman Theatre, 201 Mercer St. (Seattle Center), 923-7000 and www.brownpapertickets.com. $25 (all-ages show). 8 p.m.

I’ve finally found a musical that makes me laugh harder than Avenue Q. And its lack of raunchy puppet sex makes me feel a lot more comfortable about taking my parents — a major plus as my mother came into town last week and my harder-than-hell-to-please father comes in this weekend. This puppet-sex-free musical is The Drowsy Chaperone.

It’s hard to believe the production only opened on Broadway just two years ago. It’s a smart and hilarious homage to the Jazz Age told through the eyes of “Man in Chair” (Jonathan Crombie.) He’s a recluse on Zoloft who copes with his “non-specific sadness” by listening to a record of a 1928 Broadway hit The Drowsy Chaperone. Hence the start of this musical-within-a-musical.

The musical that Crombie adores so much is about showgirl Janet Van De Graff (Andrea Chamberlain) who decides to trade in her fame to marry her love Robert Martin (Mark Ledbetter), as she demonstrates with a satire-dripping song "I Don't Want to Show Off."

The show gets its name from Janet’s chaperone (Alicia Irving) whose sole job is to keep Janet from seeing Robert on the wedding day. Because Janet is always drowsy (read: drunk) she doesn't do such a great job. However, she more than redeems herself with a rousing rendition of “As We Stumble Along” which Crombie observes is really just a celebration of alcoholism.

...The show gets more complicated, but I'm not gonna write an entire synopsis. I'll just sum it by saying it gets way more complicated when an angry producer, a drunk lady, and a floozy "French Girl" come into the picture.

Chamberlain and Irving are absolutely lovely in their roles. But without a doubt the standout cast member is the anxiety-prone “Man in Chair.” He pauses the musical numerous times to interject trivial bits of information and ridiculous personal anecdotes. Toward the end of the show, Crombie loses electricity in his apartment and the entire "show" stops. The way he deals with maintenance showing up at his door shows just how much of a fucking weirdo he is. The scene also shows just how much The Drowsy Chaperone means to him and in turn, to us.

*Worth noting... The show runs until Sunday and you can score some pretty sweet deals right now. Like Mark's previous post notes, anyone who works downtown can get themselves plus up to three guests in this Tuesday and Wednesday for $20 a piece. All you need to do is to walk down to the box office with cash and your business card. You can also score if you're 25 or younger. Same deal, just show your ID. It's so worth it. And that's coming from someone who balks when they get the check at the Cheesecake Factory.