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Film and the Arts

Off-Broadway Play Review—David Adjmi’s “Stereophonic”

Stereophonic
Written by David Adjmi
Directed by Daniel Aukin
Through December 17, 2023
Playwrights Horizons
416 West 42nd Street, New York, NY
Playwrightshorizons.org
 
The cast of Stereophonic (photo: Cherice Parry)


Dramatizing the creation of a new album by a rock quintet in 1976 that bears a distinct resemblance to a mega-popular ensemble from that era, David Adjmi’s play Stereophonic spends three-plus hours immersing the audience in the group’s recording sessions: the playing, the arguing, the drinking and drug-taking, the banal chatter, the boringly idle time in between working on the music. At times incisive, but quite often excruciatingly dull, Stereophonic plays like a less entertaining version of the Beatles’ Get Back, where at least we get to experience real musical genius on display in between the dull bits.
 
Adjmi has rather baldly made his fictional band a dead ringer for Fleetwood Mac: drummer Simon, bassist Reg and keyboard player/vocalist Holly are all English, with the latter two in a rocky marriage. There are also two Americans: Diana, the pretty female singer and Peter, her beau, also a singer and the lead guitarist, who is grabbing the reins of the album’s production whether the others like it or not. The group is recording its followup to its current hit LP, which is peaking—along with its hit single, composed and sung by the American girl—just as the quintet starts on the new opus, which begins as a one-month session but drags on for more than a year, at an astronomical cost and at two studios.
 
Adjmi has fused the making of Fleetwood Mac’s mega-smash Rumours with its commercially disappointing—but more musically expansive—followup, Tusk, for the purposes of squeezing more drops of drama out of what is not very dramatic. David Zinn’s remarkably detailed set consists of the control room’s large 32-track recording console at center stage, where recording engineer Grover and his seemingly anonymous assistant Charlie (there are unfunny jokes made at poor Charlie’s expense) sit, surrounded by chairs, couches and rugs that the band members use; beyond, behind a large window, is the sound room. The entire play consists of conversations and confrontations on either side of the glass, with the group playing their new songs, sometimes in mere snatches and at other times in their entirety. 
 
That the play clocks in at 3 hours and 10 minutes might be thought an act of mercy; after a fuzzy and unfocused, nearly two-hour first act, the second act is much tighter, flying by in a little more than an hour. It’s also where the drama of sorts comes to a head, as Holly and Reg break up nastily, Diana and Peter break up even more nastily, Peter knocks down Grover and briefly fires him for the sin of following Peter’s own directive regarding a new guitar section, and Diana informs Holly that she has been offered a solo album deal by their record label. The dichotomy between the banality of the dialogue and the naked intimacy among these characters yields occasional insights amid the dross.
 
Then there are Will Butler’s songs, which sound more like outtakes from the 1975 “debut” album by the real Fleetwood Mac lineup than the more incisively personal tunes that captivated the rock world on Rumours (not to mention the more experimental tunes on Tusk). And although the cast of five actors playing the musicians perform with appreciable gusto—particularly Sarah Pidgeon, who plays the Stevie Nicks-like Diana captivatingly and with a powerfully impressive singing voice—the songs themselves don’t deserve the time the play gives to them.
 
Aside from Pidgeon, Tom Pecinka (Peter), Will Brill (Reg), Chris Stack (Simon), Juliana Canfield (Holly), Eli Gelb (Grover) and Andrew R. Butler (Charlie) are excellent individually and as an ensemble. Daniel Aukin directs with a fine eye for the details Adjmi has written into the script, like the opening’s tantalizing layering of different conversations a la Robert Altman’s films. If only Aukin had trimmed more of the musical performances (as the group ponders doing in a climactic scene about the extra tracks they’ve recorded), Stereophonic would have been a more entertaining (and less literal) recreation of the bloatedness that began being baked into 1970s rock. 

Armenian National Philharmonic Orchestra Plays Carnegie Hall, Presented by CLASSIC MUSIC TV

Photo from Classic Music TV.

At Carnegie Hall, on the evening of Wednesday, November 15th, I had the pleasure of attending a splendid concert—presented by Classic Music TV—featuring the Armenian National Philharmonic Orchestra under the distinguished direction of Edward Tophjan.

The program opened brilliantly with an exhilarating realization of three magnificent selections from the celebrated 1953 ballet score, Spartacus, by the Armenian composer Aram Khachaturian—this year is the 120th anniversary of his birth. The first excerpt, “Variations of Aegina and Bacchanalia,” is sparkling and dynamic, while the second, “Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia,” begins lyrically but builds to a more emphatic statement, concluding serenely. The final section, “Dance of Gaditanian Maidens and Victory of Spartacus,” is evocative and mysterious, increasing in excitement and appropriately closes triumphantly.

An admirable soloist, Sergey Khachatryan, then joined the artists for an impressive account of the same composer’s Violin Concerto in D minor from 1940—a work that, like the music for Spartacus, deserves a more prominent place in the repertory. The initial, ambitious Allegro con fermezza is energetic—even agitated at times—but with meditative moments and it has both an exotic quality as well as, especially in the cadenza,avant-gardeelements. The Andante sostenuto that follows is reflective and melodic—seemingly with Eastern folk motifs—but is not without intensity and ends quietly. The Allegro vivace that completes the piece is restless, even turbulent at times, but with sprightly passages and it finishes dramatically.

The second half of the event was also memorable, comprised of a compelling rendition of the marvelous Symphony No. 2 of Sergei Rachmaninoff, whose sesquicentennial anniversary is also this year. The main body—marked Allegro moderato—of the complex first movement—which has a solemn, Largo introduction that becomes more soulful—has a largely passionate, even urgent, character but sometimes is almost bucolic and the Allegro molto that succeeds it is propulsive, playful and suspenseful but with emotional passages. The famous, haunting primary theme of the Adagio that ensues is impossibly beautiful while the Allegro vivace finale is exuberant with some subdued episodes. A very enthusiastic ovation was rewarded with a delightful encore: the famous Waltz from the 1944 Suite drawn from the incidental music Khachaturian wrote for the Mikhail Lermontov play,Masquerade.

November '23 Digital Week III

4K/UHD Releases of the Week 
The Expend4bles 
(Lionsgate)
The latest installment of this agreeably slight adventure series about a group of mercenaries who go out on all sorts of dangerous missions hits the usual action and narrative beats, as their leader (Sylvester Stallone, natch) is presumed dead and the others have to deal with that and track down terrorists looking to start a nuclear war.
 
 
It’s explosive in all senses, and director Scott Waugh keeps things fast-moving for 100 minutes, although the best performance comes from Megan Fox’s tattoos. There’s a first-rate UHD transfer; extras include Waugh’s commentary and two making-of featurettes.
 
 
 
The Fugitive 
(Warner Bros)
The old TV series starring David Janssen was updated effectively in this 1993 blockbuster, which becomes quite exciting when it concentrates on the accused doctor’s escape from custody and attempts to track down his wife’s real murderer, all while he’s being frantically pursued by a federal marshal.
 
 
Harrison Ford is his usual entertainingly stolid self as the hero, Tommy Lee Jones makes a formidable adversary and director Andrew Davis stages and paces the action beautifully, ensuring the film is a well-oiled thrill machine. The 4K transfer looks excellent; extras are an intro by Ford and Davis, commentary by Davis and Jones, and three making-of featurettes.
 
 
 
Oppenheimer 
(Universal)
Christopher Nolan’s take on Robert J. Oppenheimer and the Manhattan Project is typically Nolanesque: very long, very loud, very overblown and very shallow. This three-hour behemoth is loaded down with visual and aural pyrotechnics from the start: I wouldn’t be surprised if Nolan’s noise is louder than actual atomic explosions. Ludwig Göransson’s ludicrously bombastic score is smeared over virtually every scene—I hope he got paid by the minute—including moments where ostensibly important dialogue can’t be heard. Cillian Murphy is properly intense but he’s overshadowed by Nolan’s self-importance.
 
 
Aside from Robert Downey and Matt Damon, who make an impression despite Nolan’s singlemindedness, the starry cast is forgettable: Gary Oldman is a cartoonish Harry Truman, likewise Tom Conti as Albert Einstein; poor Florence Pugh, usually a formidable actress, is reduced to a nothing role comprising several gratuitous nude scenes. The film, of course, looks stunning in UHD; extras comprise the 70-minute The Story of Our Time: The Making of Oppenheimer, the NBC News documentary To End All War: Oppenheimer and the Atomic Bomb, and a Trinity anniversary panel discussion with Nolan and others. 
 
 
 
Saw X 
(Lionsgate)
There’s always an audience for torture, as the tenth installment of this franchise whose hook is “let’s torture people—innocent or deserving—in more creatively nasty ways” shows. John Kramer, torturer extraordinaire of previous Saws, is now a sad victim of a fake cancer-miracle cure and who—of course—returns the favor on those who scammed him.
 
 
Of course, you already know whether this is for you; even so, there are a couple uniquely gross ways of torturing, and director Kevin Greutert even partly succeeds in making Tobin Bell’s Kramer kind of sympathetic. Now that’s an original achievement. The film looks pristine in 4K; extras include a commentary, deleted scenes, and making-of featurettes.
 
 
 
Blu-ray Releases of the Week 
Le Cérémonie 
(Criterion Collection)
One of his very best, Claude Chabrol’s 1995 melodrama is a cracklingly good study of manners, mania and murder as a cleaning lady is befriended by a local woman who prods her to target the family she works for. Chabrol’s precise direction moves things along slowly but surely, so that, by the final violent outburst, we are literally left shaken at its horrible, ironic logic. This taut chamber piece is enlivened by the spectacular acting of Sandrine Bonnaire, Isabelle Huppert, Jacqueline Bisset and Virginie Ledoyen as well as the felicitous music of Matthieu Cahbrol, the director’s son.
 
 
Criterion’s excellent hi-def transfer makes Chabrol’s compositions look crisp and clear; extras include Chabrol’s select-scene commentary, intro by director Bong Joon Ho, making-of featurette, and archival interviews with Bonnaire, Huppert, Chabrol and co-writer Caroline Eliacheff.
 
 
 
South Park—The Streaming Wars 
(Paramount)
In the South Park duo’s latest “special” two-episode event, the town’s water supply is dwindling thanks to an evil corporation whose head honcho, ManBearPig, has separated it into streams. As usual, Trey Parker and Matt Stone combine astute satire with crude parody and cheap jokes (Cartman gets breast implants) into a stew only they can concoct: somehow, a metaphor for the proliferation of streaming services—including Paramount +, which shows South Park—emerges with eviscerating swipes.
 
 
The episodes run about 100 minutes total, so it’s like getting four or five South Park episodes for the price of two, which is sort of a bargain.
 
 
 
In-Theater Release of the Week 
Down in Dallas Town
(First Run Features)
Sixty years on, the assassination of President Kennedy remains a singularly mortifying event in American history, and Alan Govenar’s documentary returns to the scene of the crime—Dealey Plaza in Dallas—to interview several people who were there that day to jog their still-vivid memories.
 
 
Hearing them speak after so long is quite touching, and Govenar supplements this with plaza interviews that serendipitously occur on the same day as a nearby mass shooting, as U.S. and international visitors discuss gun control. Illuminatingly, Govenar features mournful songs written by bluesmen and others in response to the JFK tragedy, as he shows more recent footage of ongoing gun violence and homeless people that is quintessentially—and sorrowfully—American. 
 
 
 
CD Release of the Week
Ottorino Respighi—Orchestral Works 
(BIS)
Italian composer Ottorino Respighi (1879-1936) was one of the most original musical voices of his day, combining romantic sensibilities with a love for the past that brought him fame and fortune with several beloved works, including his Roman trilogy, The Birds, Three Botticelli Pictures and his three suites of Ancient Airs and Dances, all of which are staples for any orchestra worth its salt. All of these works, of course, make up a big part of this 8-disc set of Respighi’s orchestral works, but even though the Sao Paolo Symphony Orchestra (Roman trilogy) and Orchestre Philharmonique Royal de Liege (everything else) under conductor John Neschling give vigorous, well-oiled readings of them, the real gems are several works that are not nearly as well known.
 
 
For example, there are Sinfonia drammatica, Brazilian Impressions, Church Windows and Il tramonto, in which Italian soprano Anna Caterina Antonacci provides a dreamy, lovingly rendered account. Too bad there’s not more of his wonderfully offbeat operas other than the overture of Belfagor, but hoping it will spur listeners to further explore Respighi’s world, operatic and orchestral.

Film Festival Roundup—DOCNYC 2023

DOCNYC 2023
Online streaming through November 26, 2023
docnyc.net
 
The annual documentary festival DOC NYC again includes the option of online watching for those who couldn’t get to the in-person screenings in Manhattan; anyone can access several of the films through Sunday. As always, there were dozens of enticing features and shorts to pick through; the features I saw covered the arts and politics.
 
Fanny—The Other Mendelssohn
 
In Fanny—The Other Mendelssohn, director Sheila Hayman takes a close look at Fanny Mendelssohn, an accomplished composer in her own right who was eclipsed both by the era in which she lived that didn’t take women composers seriously and her brother, the also accomplished Felix, who was celebrated for his symphonies and chamber music. Hayman shows that Fanny was as equally masterly as Felix, but the demands of her marriage (despite her husband Wilhelm being totally supportive) and the misogyny of the 19th century held her back. There’s a subplot of sorts in which a Fanny scholar, Angela Mace, resurrects the composer’s “Easter” piano sonata, originally attributed to Felix but now considered one of her summit achievements, more than 150 years after her untimely death of a stroke at age 41. (Felix died six months later, also of a stroke.)
 
How to Come Alive With Norman Mailer
 
The most egotistical and rabidly aggressive American author is resurrected, so to speak, in How to Come Alive With Norman Mailer, Jeff Zimbalist’s surprisingly nuanced glimpse at how Mailer, an unapologetic chauvinist who swore he was a progressive feminist, treated others, including his several wives and children. Zimbalist speaks with Mailer’s children—including John Buffalo, an executive producer of this film—who willingly discuss their dad’s complexity, as do several Mailer colleagues, admirers and detractors; the result is an entertaining warts-and-all snapshot.
 
Psychedelicized—The Electric Circus Story
 
It happened during the heyday of flower power and hippie culture, but the history of the Electric Circus, the storied club on Manhattan’s East Village that lasted from 1967 to 1971, is lovingly recounted in Larry Confino’s Psychedelicized—The Electric Circus Story. Cofounders Stan Freeman and Jerry Brandt engagingly discuss their ambitious project that was a victim of changing times (a bomb supposedly planted by the Black Panthers went off one night, injuring 15 partygoers) but that still remains vivid in their memories.
 
Rainbow Warrior
 
The name of a Greenpeace ship set to protest French nuclear testing that was blown up by operatives under the auspices of the French government while it was docked in the port of Auckland, Rainbow Warrior is also the title of Edward McGurn’s breathlessly exciting account of how New Zealand police solved the case—almost inadvertently. Interviews with many participants and witnesses—some of whom fondly remember Fernando Pereira, the photographer who was the lone fatality—revisit a case that turned out to be embarrassing for the French, who first denied their role then ended up paying reparations to Greenpeace, to New Zealand, and to the family of Pereira.
 
Angel Applicant
 
In Angel Applicant, designer turned director Ken August Meyer explores the oeuvre of Swiss expressionist artist Paul Klee, who—like Meyer—was stricken with a rare disease, systemic scleroderma, in which the skin and tissues harden, making ordinary movement painful. As he interprets Klee’s final works as a journey taken while in the throes of the ailment, Meyer undergoes his own transformation, looking to alleviate his own suffering from the disease. As he does so, his film finds inspiration in Klee’s art, along with something even more important: hope.
 
No One Asked You

Comic Lizz Winstead created The Daily Show and cofounded the liberal radio network Air America, but she would probably say her greatest contribution is her pro-choice Abortion Access Front, which Ruth Leitman’s No One Asked You explores in meaningful and even amusing detail. Winstead and her cohorts have kept their sense of humor as well as their sense of proportion, and Leitman shows them using everything in their arsenal to ensure that, in the face of mounting defeats culminating in the overturn of Roe v. Wade, women—and not the (mainly) men in power—retain control over their own bodies.

 
The Trials of Alan Dershowitz
 
Detailing the life and career of America’s most famous lawyer (mostly for the wrong reasons), The Trials of Alan Dershowitz director John Curtin recounts Dershowitz’s most famous litigations, which in the public consciousness are mostly a parade of bad guys from Mike Tyson and O.J. Simpson to Klaus von Bulow and Donald Trump—the latter a head scratcher even for a free speech absolutist like Dershowitz. He expediently defends himself and his choices, but when he speaks about why he defended Trump, it comes off half-heartedly, as if he knew he did it to keep up appearances. It’s too bad that black (or orange) mark has marred an otherwise estimable career. 

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