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Film and the Arts

Broadway Play Review—“Yellow Face” by David Henry Hwang

Yellow Face
Written by David Henry Hwang
Directed by Leigh Silverman
Performances through November 24, 2024
Todd Haimes Theatre, 227 West 42nd Street, New York, NY
roundabout.org
 
Daniel Dae Kim and Greg Keller in Yellow Face (photo: Joan Marcus)
 
After Jonathan Pryce was announced as the Eurasian lead for the musical Miss Saigon’s 1991 Broadway run, playwright David Henry Hwang—who won a Tony for writing M. Butterfly a few years earlier—made it his cause célèbre to protest the whitening of Asian characters. Hwang lost that battle, for not only did Pryce play the role but won a best actor Tony for his admittedly brilliant performance.
 
That skirmish was the genesis for Yellow Face, Hwang’s lacerating if uneven play recounting his professional and personal fallout. Its first Broadway revival is staged by the always resourceful Leigh Silverman; she also helmed the 2007 premiere at the Public Theater, and she gets more laughs than insights—which is more Hwang’s fault than hers. The story revolves around the casting for Hwang’s follow-up to M. Butterfly, a 1993 play titled Face Value, in which DHH (as he calls his stage alter ego) wants a young actor named Marcus—who’s starring in a play about Asian American soldiers but doesn’t look very Asian—for the lead. DHH convinces the director and producer to cast the supposedly Asian but definitely white Marcus, which begins a chain of events that puts his own liberal bona fides in jeopardy. (That Face Value was a huge bomb when it premiered doesn’t help matters.)
 
Unsurprisingly, Yellow Face is complicated: Hwang laments the lack of Asian representation that’s plagued theater—along with movies and TV—for decades, but his own Marcus problem shows Hwang’s own guilt by association. But, although much of what is shown in Yellow Face really happened, the casting of Marcus is a fiction, a conceit that also calls into question the playwright’s own honesty in his scathing indictment, since one of his biggest mistakes is largely made up. 
 
More successful are the amusing but uneasy scenes between Hwang and his father HYH, a successful West Coast banker and proud immigrant who loves America. HYH (played with nuance and empathy by Francis Jue) has no patience for those criticizing his adopted country: he even sees himself as John Wayne, a winner in the American dream sweepstakes. HYH is also the ever-disappointed father, however famous his son has become—he asks DHH for tickets to see, of all things, Miss Saigon. 
 
Later, a New York Times reporter (the agreeably sleazy Greg Keller) speaks with DHH, who was made a bank board member by his father, that HYH’s using Chinese money to expand his bank operations might entangle DHH himself. (Strangely, the Times reporter’s name is redacted when spoken and shown, a silly conceit because anyone can look up his name on Google.) These scenes about Hwang’s father—personal, angry, sorrowful—far outclass the main plot that gives Yellow Face its name.
 
Despite such imbalances, Yellow Face works handily in Silverman’s sly, dry production. (The witty sets by Arnulfo Maldonado and clever lighting by Lap Chi Chu help give the proceedings a laser focus.) The multicultural supporting cast plays disparate roles—reviewers, actors, activists, producers—that add intriguing and humorous layers on top of what’s in the script. And holding all the strands together as DHH is Daniel Dae Kim, a charismatic and sympathetic stand-in for Hwang.

The Greek Youth Symphony Orchestra Play Carnegie Hall


At Carnegie Hall’s Stern Auditorium, on the night of Sunday, November 3rd, I had the great pleasure to attend a terrific concert presented by the extraordinary musicians of the Greek Youth Symphony Orchestra, superbly led by Dionysis Grammenos, its Artistic Director and Conductor.

The event opened strongly with a sterling account of Anna Clyne’s compelling << rewind << from 2005, a suspenseful work that builds to a dramatic climax, ending abruptly. A useful program note records the following: 

Described as a “composer of uncommon gifts and unusual methods” in a New York Times profile and as “fearless” by NPR, GRAMMY-nominated Anna Clyne is one of the most in-demand composers today, working with orchestras, choreographers, filmmakers, and visual artists around the world. Clyne was named by Bachtrack as one of the top ten most performed contemporary composers in the world and the most performed living female British composer in both 2022 and 2023. 

It also reports:

<< rewind <<  is inspired by the image of analog video tape rapidly scrolling backwards with fleeting moments of skipping, freezing and warping. The original version, for orchestra and tape, was composed  in 2005 for choreographer, and Artistic Director of Hysterica Dance Company, Kitty McNamee. 

The highlight of the evening was the opportunity to hear a marvelous rendition of selections from the seldom performed, magnificent Greek Dances by Nikos Skalkottas. Annotator Titos Gouvelis offers   some valuable commentary: 

In 1933, Nikos Skalkottas was forced to leave Berlin, where he had developed a rich career as a composer at the vanguard of contemporary music. He returned to Athens, a place where the radical innovations that dominated the Central European musical scene could not be neither comprehended, nor accepted. The years leading up to his death (1949) were difficult and fraught with challenges, both artistic and practical. On the one hand, his contemporaries, for the most part, did not recognize or fully appreciate his extraordinary compositional talent; on the other, he remained uncompromising in his aesthetic aims and aspirations, preferring to serve Music with consistency and sincerity, even at the cost of obscurity. 

For many, the 36 Greek Dances for orchestra represent not only a pinnacle of Skalkottas' creation but perhaps the most important work of Greek music of the 20th century. Composed primarily between 1934 and 1936, this work was the result of the composer's collaboration with the Greek Folklore Museum of the French Institute of Athens and its director, Melpo Merlier, who commissioned Skalkottas to transcribe, analyze, and comment on recordings of folk songs from Crete and Sifnos. It is worth noting that several Dances are not based on authentic traditional melodies, but on folk-inspired melodies written by Skalkottas himself, attesting to his genuine and deep interest in Greek traditional music and his profound knowledge of the genre. This is evidenced by his ability to convincingly capture the style of traditional music through his own original themes, while maintaining a distinctly Greek character. 

The Greek Dances do not belong to Skalkottas' atonal works. Although for many years he had engaged—with great success—in the use and development of an atonal musical language, the composer had a clear view of the aesthetic limitations of this style. The Greek Dances have clear and easily recognizable tonal centers. However, they cannot be characterized as purely tonal works, since unexpected harmonies or distinctive scattered dissonances create the adventurous feeling of a continuous harmonic suspension. The composer's choices in orchestration are equally original, balancing between dense, multi-layered orchestral action and a clarity that is perhaps of “neoclassical” origin. The 36 Greek Dances, while maintaining clear distances from the artistic tenets of both the composers of the Greek National School of Music and the proponents of pure modernism, reveal Skalkottas' unique perspective on the concept of “Greekness”. And this view remains relevant and timeless, as it actively places the Greek element into an equal dialogue with European classical music. He rightly considers it as an identity that guides and inspires, an identity without limitations, that liberates the mind.

The selections began with two from the first series—the spirited “Ipirotikos” and a stirring “Dance of Zalongo”—preceding three from the third series: the exuberant “Kleftikos,” with subdued moments; the more lyrical, even meditative “Ipirotikos”; and the march-like “Arcadikos,” which had a celebratory quality and ends softly. Two more from the first series ensued, the “Macedonikos,” which has a more hurried pace and finishes suddenly and the entrancing “Critikos.” These were succeeded by three more from the third series, starting with the “Mariori,” which traverses a striking range of moods, opening reflectively, then becoming playful, more solemn—even lugubrious—jocular, and inward, closing gently. The “Messolongitikos” is propulsive, reminiscent of “Gypsy music,” and the set concluded with the also exhilarating “Mazochtos.”

The second half of the concert proper was also remarkable, consisting of an exciting version of Leonard Bernstein’s dazzling Symphonic Dances from West Side Story. The Prologue is tense with jazzy interludes, followed by the lovely, passionate “Somewhere.” Next were the charming, ludic “Scherzo” and the ebullient, even rambunctious “Mambo,” before the enchanting “Cha-cha” and “Meeting Scene.” The “Cool” dance is tumultuous and thoroughly captivating, while the “Rumble” is turbulent and powerful. The Finale is transcendent, indeed an apotheosis. Ardent applause elicited three fabulous encores: Bernstein’s Candide Overture, Arturo Márquez’s Danzón No. 2, and the beautiful song, "Omorfi Poli" (Όμορφη Πόλη) by Mikis Theodorakis.

Bacewicz' "Overture" With The Juilliard Orchestra

Photo by Claudio Papapietro

At Lincoln Center’s superb Alice Tully Hall on the night of Monday, October 28th, I had the considerable pleasure to attend an excellent concert presented by the Juilliard Orchestra, under the distinguished direction of Daniela Candillari

The event opened admirably with an effective account of Grażyna Bacewicz fine Overture from 1943. In a useful program note by Noémie Chemali, she provides an apt description of the piece that I could scarcely improve upon:

Despite Bacewicz's assertion that music “simply expresses itself” rather than conveying extramusical meanings, her Overture pulses with vitality. Its syncopated rhythms and bold orchestration contrast seamlessly with more lyrical passages, creating a dynamic, tension-filled work marked by neoclassical precision. The Overture showcases Bacewicz's rhythmic intensity and structural clarity, traits that would define her compositional voice for the remainder of her career. 

A remarkable soloist, Sophia Werner, then entered the stage for a rewarding performance of Samuel Barber’s magnificent Violin Concerto, Op. 14, from 1949. The initial Allegro begins in song-like fashion and builds in intensity; melodious as the movement is, it is not without astringency or dramatic conflict. The Andante that follows is more subdued, with an almost elegiac quality; it becomes more passionate before ending quietly. The Presto in moto perpetuo finale is propulsive and spiky, concluding suddenly.

The second half of the evening was comparable in power, consisting of a compelling realization of Dmitri Shostakovich’s imposing Symphony No. 10 in E Minor, Op. 93, from 1953. The annotator aptly comments:

The first movement, Moderato, is expansive and brooding, setting a somber tone from the start. The music unfolds slowly, with haunting melodies that some interpret as expressing Shostakovich's long-suppressed inner torment. 

That movement finishes softly while the ensuing Allegro is forceful and brisk and ends abruptly. The succeeding Scherzo, marked Allegretto, has moments of levity alternating with music more stern in mood, and closes gently. Chemali correctly avers:

The final movement, AndanteAllegro, begins with a slow, reflective introduction, reminiscent of the first movement's darker mood. The music soon shifts to a more optimistic and triumphant conclusion. Many interpret this as Shostakovich's expression of survival, resilience, and creative freedom after years of censorship and persecution. 

The artists deservedly received a very enthusiastic ovation.

November '24 Digital Week I

Blu-ray Releases of the Week 
Blink Twice 
(Warner Bros)
In Zoë Kravitz’s stylishly derivative directorial debut, which she cowrote with E.T. Feigenbaum, several women are invited to a private island by tech billionaire Slater King and his friends—one of the women, Frida, discovers unsettling things going on, including her own friend Jess’ disappearance (but no one else remembers her being there), and the realization that Slater and his buddies aren’t benevolent.
 
 
Kravitz directs with a sure hand that’s held down by her oppressive visuals and enervating storyline that’s another in the “the elites do nasty things to each other” subgenre, like The Menu, Don’t Worry Darling and Infinity Pool. The twisty but nonsensical ending reminds us that Rod Serling did this sort of thing far better in half-hour Twilight Zone episodes. The film’s hi-def transfer looks immaculate; no extras.
 
 
 
The Mad Bomber 
(Severin)
In this little known 1972 police drama, Chuck Connors hams it up entertainingly as William Dorn, the berserk title character whom detective Geronimo Minnelli (Vince Edwards) is urgently tracking down before he can do more damage to people and property in Los Angeles. Director Bert I. Gordon’s effectively grimy atmosphere complements the chases as well as Connors’ persuasively crazed performance, especially in his final, desperate moments.
 
 
The hi-def image looks good; extras comprise a commentary by author Kier-La Janisse and retired bomb squad detective Mike Digby; isolated score; audio interview with Gordon; interviews with Gordon’s daughter Patricia and actress Cynthia MacAdams; locations featurette; and the TV cut of the film. 
 
 
 
In-Theater Releases of the Week 
Breakfast of Champions 
(Shout Studios)
Alan Rudolph has always been a hit-or-miss director—mostly miss—and he called a “loose” 1999 adaptation of a typically sardonic Kurt Vonnegut novel is an utter mess, trying and failing to replicate Vonnegut’s offbeat tonal changes while looking like an amateurish, incoherent movie that was made on the cheap.
 
 
Performers as disparate as Bruce Willis, Nick Nolte, Barbara Hershey and the usually indestructible Glenne Headley are reduced to mere stick figures, while Rudolph gives a demonstration in how not to ruin solid source material. 
 
 
 
Chasing Chasing Amy 
(Level 33)
This personal documentary is a labor of love for director Sav Rodgers who, as a queer 12-year-old, watched Kevin Smith’s Chasing Amy over and over again—years later, Rodgers questions not only the film’s premise (a lesbian is “won over” by the perfect straight guy) but also his own relationship to it and how he feels now compared to when he was a confused youngster.
 
 
Rodgers actually gets Smith himself to discuss Amy’s legacy, and they become friends; Guinevere Turner, who co-wrote and starred in the breakthrough lesbian film Go Fish when Smith made his film, refreshingly gives her witty take on it, while Amy star Joey Lauren Adams opens up more candidly than maybe even she thought. 
 
 
 
Lost on a Mountain in Maine 
(Blue Fox Entertainment)
Donn Fendler’s account of his ordeal, at age 12 in 1939, alone on a treacherous mountain how he survived nine days alone with no food or shelter has become an inspirational if somewhat mechanical feature by director Andrew Boodhoo Kightlinger and screenwriter Luke Paradise, who adapted Fendler’s memoir.
 
 
Donn’s lonely journey is effectively dramatized, and if at times it feels like an afterschool special done at a snail’s pace, the leading role are taken most persuasively by a trio of superb actors: Caitlin Fitzgerald (mother), Paul Sparks (father) and Luke David Bloom (Donn). Less helpful are new interviews with the actual participants (brother, mother, rescuer, Donn himself), integrated more crudely that necessary.
 
 
 
4K/UHD Release of the Week
Trap 
(Warner Bros)
M. Night Shyamalan has mined similar territory for decades, spinning his wheels with vaguely Twilight Zone-ish subjects that he explores as superficially as possible, but his latest is his most actively unpleasant: a doting dad takes his teenage daughter to an arena pop concert, where he notices a large police presence that signals his possible unmasking as a serial killer.
 
 
The lazy storyline makes one realizes the movie was made so the director could cast his daughter, Saleka Shyamalan, as pop icon Lady Raven, who assumes a larger role as the movie plays out. Josh Hartnett invests as much humanity as he can into an impossible role; poor Alison Pill is mercilessly wasted as his wife. Be warned: the final scene paves the way for an unwanted sequel. The UHD image looks excellent; extras include interviews and featurettes.
 
 
 
DVD Release of the Week 
On the Wandering Paths 
(Distrib Films)
Jean Dujardin gives a subtly affecting performance as Pierre Girard, a writer who, after recovering from a near-fatal fall, decides to across France, in Denis Imbert’s engrossing drama that follows Pierre as he makes the odd human connection while for the most part sticking to his plan of walking alone.
 
 
Interspersing flashbacks to his previous happy-go-lucky life, falling in love with a young woman named Anna (luminous Joséphine Japy) and leading to his accident, Imbert’s film lays bare the psychology of one man—Dujardin narrates Pierre’s written-down thoughts—as well as the country he’s traveling through, all set against stunning natural landscapes ravishingly photographed by Magali Silvestre de Sacy. 
 
 
 
CD Release of the Week
Adèle Hugo—Songs 
(Alpha Classics)
Adèle Hugo, troubled daughter of the great novelist Victor Hugo, might be best known through French director François Truffaut’s intimate 1975 biopic, The Story if Adèle H., which propelled 19-year-old actress Isabelle Adjani to international stardom. But Adèle was also a composer, as this lovely survey of vocal works discovered decades after her death demonstrates. If her songs resemble those of composers like Chausson and especially Fauré, they have their undeniable charms, as do several short instrumental pieces for which she never set words.
 
 
This disc contains 14 songs orchestrated by Richard Dubugnon and played arrestingly by the Orchestre Victor Hugo under Jean-François Verdier and beautifully sung by an array of estimable voices: sopranos Sandrine Piau, Axelle Fanyo and Anaïs Constans, mezzos Karine Deshayes and Isabelle Druet and baritone Laurent Naouri.

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