Reasons To Be Grateful

In recent years I've enjoyed a great deal of the writing posted on McSweeneys Internet Tendency, a website that gloriously mocks the ability of self-absorbed and often clueless people to obsess and agonize over their first world problems. For less fortunate souls, the daily grind is exactly what it sounds like: a never-ending struggle against the indignities of a lifestyle that is often crippled by poverty, prejudice, political repression, and domestic violence. As a popular meme states: "There are people who would kill to have one of your bad days!"

Many film festivals feature independent films made in societies which function quite differently than the United States or Canada. Such films offer a chance for American audiences to view life from a very different perspective. On good days, the end result involves some consciousness raising and a reminder to count one's blessings. Three films screened during the 2019 Frameline Film Festival stand out for the personal dramas they capture as well as the mirrors they hold up to the societies in which they were made.

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A painfully poignant portrait of a young black teen struggling to stay afloat under devastating circumstances, Socrates focuses on a 15-year-old who has just discovered his mother's dead body. This debut feature film by Brazilian-American director Alexandre Moratto captures the anguish of a desperate teenager who was forced to break away from his violent, hyper-religious father (Jayme Rodrigues) and will go to any length to cover for his dead mother on her job while trying to earn enough to pay for her cremation.

Christian Malheiros stars in Socrates

Co-written by Moratto and Thayná Mantesso, the film stars Christian Malheiros, who delivers a deeply moving performance in the title role. Already living on the margins of society in a favela in São Paulo, Socrates quickly learns that the landlady won't allow him to stay in his mother's apartment if he can't pay the rent. After being referred to a job that requires manual labor, the teenager gets into a fight with Maicon (Tales Ordakji), a closeted bisexual laborer who doesn't mind fucking and kissing Socrates but refuses to show any signs of affection when they are in public view.

Christian Malheiros and Tales Ordakji in a scene from Socrates

Though determined to find work, Socrates continues to have doors slammed in his face. Some are due to his poverty, others to the fact that he is underage. Upon learning that his homophobic father has claimed his mother's ashes, Socrates visits the bitter old man, only to be rejected one more time for his sexual orientation.

Christian Malheiros stars in Socrates

In his Director's Statement, Moratto writes:

"In 2009, I volunteered at the Querô Institute in Brazil – a UNICEF-supported non-profit that provides social inclusion to teenagers from low-income communities through the transformative power of filmmaking. The dedication of these young people to make a better life for themselves despite their unequal social status astounded me and inspired me to make films about people from underrepresented cultures and communities. Socrates is a film that revisits the people and places that helped shape me into the filmmaker I am today. The film is also very personal in its depiction of the death of Socrates's mother, his struggle with grief, and his efforts to find acceptance as a gay teenager. The result is a film that is embedded in a unique time and place in Brazil but that also tells a universal story about the strength to live despite insurmountable hardship."

Tales Ordakji and Christian Malheiros in a scene from Socrates

The Querô Institute is an organization headquartered in the city of Santos, Brazil that, for over 12 years, has used filmmaking as a tool to transmit values, develop entrepreneurship, promote volunteer work, and give access to the workplace for young people in situations of social vulnerability. The social impact of the organization is to transform young people to reflect more on their role in society, making them better equipped to cope with problems and become the entrepreneurs of their own dreams.

In its 12 years of working with teenagers from low-income households in the Baixada Santista region of São Paulo more than 400 boys and girls have been trained at Querô workshops in audiovisual production. More than 150 graduates are currently employed as professionals in the Brazilian film industry and more than 111 audiovisual works have been completed (winning over 55 awards at Brazilian and international film festivals). To date, the "Querô at School" project has served more than 6,000 students in public schools and produced 182 one-minute short films.

Poster art for Socrates

Co-written, produced and acted by a crew of 16-20 year-olds from the Querô Institute, Socrates is the first feature film produced by the nonprofit organization. It's a powerful drama that delivers quite a punch to its audience. Here's the trailer:

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Written and directed by Michael Elias Thomas, First Position is an achingly poignant short film about a young dancer named Zachary Campbell (Anthony Sorrells) who arrives in San Francisco in the mid 1980s hoping to join a ballet company. While visiting a gay bar, he meets Jamie Callahan (Mark Wax), a local choreographer. As they fall in love, Zachary starts taking class at Jamie's dance studio and moves in with him.

Poster art for First Position

Just when Zachary thinks his life is starting to come together, he notices two purplish lesions on his body. Thinking they're just bruises, he shows them to Jamie (who instantly recognizes signs of the dreaded Kaposi's sarcoma). From that moment on, Zachary's situation stars to spiral downward to the point where, despite his urgent need to keep dancing, he no longer has the strength to do so.

Zachary (Anthony Sorrells) is a young dancer with
Kaposi's sarcoma in a scene from First Position

First Position captures the confusion and fear during the early onset of AIDS as well as the staunch determination of some partners to be emotionally and financially supportive. For many Millennials, the film may put a shockingly human face on the tragedy. But for those who lived through the horror and grief of the 1980s, First Position offers a sober reminder of the vast wealth of talent that was lost and how lucky some of us are simply to be alive.

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Written and directed by Ali Jaberansari, Tehran: City of Love focuses on a handful of Iranians whose social and sexual dreams are constantly thwarted by the culture in which they live.

Mina Shamsi (Forough Ghajabagli) is a fat woman working as a receptionist at a beauty clinic in Tehran. Friends and relatives are always trying to set Mina up with an eligible bachelor but, as much as she resents their good intentions and tries to avoid such meetings, she still has hopes, dreams, and repressed lust. Whenever a handsome male patient arrives at the clinic, she carefully checks out his medical record and ring finger to see if he is available. In some instances, she'll even engage in tempting a man by making seductive phone calls using her sexiest voice, sending him enticing pictures of another woman, setting up a date at a local coffee shop, and then standing him up as a fat woman's form of revenge.

Mina finally meets a man in a dating class for singles entitled “Geometry of Love and Relationships” and is momentarily swept off her feet by his kindness and attention. But the day eventually arrives when he confesses that he's married (but separated from his wife) and has a son. Whether soothing her wounded ego with a mouthful of sweets, indulging in ice cream, or going home with a consolation prize (a giant stuffed teddy bear), she will probably spend the rest of her life as a single woman.

Forough Ghajabagli portrays Mina, a fat
and lonely woman in Tehran: City of Love

Vahid (Mehdi Saki) is a funeral singer who works at a local mosque. When his fiancée dumps him, he falls into a deep depression. A chance meeting with wedding photographer named Niloufar (Behnaz Jafari) who is a female friend of Mina's, leads Vahid to an opportunity to perform at secular weddings performed at secret locations where alcohol is served (free from Iran's "Guidance Patrol"). With guidance from Niloufar and some of his friends, Vahid lightens his wardrobe and musical repertoire (moving from funeral dirges to happier songs) and starts to enjoy his new job as he feels a growing attraction to Niloufar.

Mehdi Saki portrays a funeral singer
named Vahid in Tehran: City of Love

Vahid's happiness comes to a sudden end when, along with other attendees, he is arrested at one of the weddings and forced to ask for his job back at the mosque. To make matters worse, Niloufar informs him that she is leaving Tehran to start a new life in Australia.

Vahid (Mehdi Saki) and Niloufar (Behnaz Jafari) take
a work break in a scene from Tehran: City of Love

Hessam Fazli (Amir Hessam Bakhtiari) is a former competitive bodybuilder who earns his living as a personal trailer. After he shows up for an appointment at the beauty clinic, Mina starts calling him in her most seductive voice. When he tells her to stop bothering him, she instantly crosses him off her list of potential men. The next time Hessam appears at the clinic, she is extremely rude to him, insisting that he has no appointment scheduled for that day.

Amir Hessam Bakhtiari is a former competitive bodybuilder
turned personal trainer in Tehran: City of Love

The truth is that the heavily tattooed muscleman had been attempting to get into film acting when a new client was referred to him by one of the men he knows from the mosque where Vahid sings. As the older man explained, his nephew Arshia (Amir Reza Alizadehis) feels he has outgrown his current trainer and is looking for someone who can take him to the next level.

Amir Hessam Bakhtiari portrays a personal trainer working
with Amir Reza Alizadehis in a scene from Tehran: City of Love

As he begins working with the eager and gregarious young bodybuilder, the two men start to develop the kind of potentially homoerotic friendship that can be found in many gyms. Having grown up in a notoriously homophobic culture, neither one is willing (or able) to articulate such feelings. After Hessam has dropped his other clients so that he can concentrate on training Arshia, a late night sleepover at the home Hessam shares with his father mysteriously causes Arshia to stop training with Hessam, suddenly claiming that he has to travel to China on business.

Tehran: City of Love benefits immensely from the cinematography of Mohammad Reza Jahanpanah and a musical score by Hamed Sabet. In his Director’s Statement, Ali Jaberansari explains that:

“A revolution, an ensuing eight-year war, a theocratic government, the harsh divide between the private and the public and religious rules and customs have all made social realism the cornerstone of popular contemporary Iranian films in recent years, especially those that have been internationally successful. While sociopolitical issues remain at the heart of the Iranian way of life, I am fortunate enough to hold a slightly different perspective. Having lived outside of Iran for a number of years while still maintaining strong ties to my country has afforded me the liberty to retain a certain amount of distance from the harsh realities of life in Iran. This in turn has enabled me to have a darkly humorous point of view that runs at the core of this film and dictates my style as a filmmaker."

Amir Hessam Bakhtiari is a former competitive bodybuilder
turned personal trainer in Tehran: City of Love

“Lonely and disenchanted, the characters in my film are estranged from themselves and the society at large. Failing in their attempts to find meaningful relationships and truly connect to those around them, they face rejections they are not equipped to handle and are forced to find ways to persevere in a city that does not embrace them. While their predicaments may serve as the perfect context for a gritty social drama, I wanted to convey the hilarity and absurdity of their respective situations while still allowing the audience to identify with them. My goal in making this film was to tell an emotionally engaging story, however minimal and absurdist, with a different slant on the modern Iranian society.”

Three lonely Iranians end up riding public transit
together in a scene from Tehran: City of Love

Tehran: City of Love is a quiet film with no violence, car chases, or hysterics. While it gives the viewer the feeling of being a fly on the wall watching the futile attempts of its characters to find love, it also leaves viewers with the suspicion that (whether or not by default) the lonely and unloved eventually end up riding alone on public transportation. Here's the trailer:

The Obsessive Anguish of Unrequited Love

If you've ever had a crush on someone that didn't turn out the way you hoped it would, you're probably familiar with the emotional roller coaster ride known as unrequited love. Wikipedia defines the phenomenon as: "One-sided love that is not openly reciprocated or understood as such by the beloved (the beloved may not be aware of the admirer's deep and strong romantic affection or may consciously reject it)."

More intoxicating than a play session with an imaginary friend from early childhood, infatuation (which may be the gateway drug to unrequited love) sometimes sounds like this.


At what point does the obsessive element of a friendship cross over from an ardent fascination to emotional stalking? From casual moments of tenderness to manipulating someone into professing a love they do not feel? At what point does stubborn denial lead to shock, confusion, and disillusionment?

Patty (Lauren Blumenfeld) and Wyatt (Max Jenkins)
share a tense dinner in Stepdaddy

Matt McBrayer's seven-minute short entitled Stepdaddy begins as Patty (who now insists on being called Patricia) arrives at an old friend's house for dinner, eager to share a bottle of wine and some big news. Though Wyatt (Max Jenkins) keeps trying to tell her that he has an important piece of news to share, by the time Patricia (Lauren Blumenfeld) has knocked down half a bottle of wine -- and keeps interrupting Wyatt's attempts to finish a sentence -- she is feeling no pain.

Patty keeps making subtle digs at Wyatt (an artist who earns a living making macramé products) as she insinuates that they shared a close sexual relationship back in college, even though Wyatt is openly gay. "Oh, that's all right, Patricia," responds her weary and wary friend. "I forgot that you drink wine like you give head -- with tiny sharp, little fangs that hurt my foreskin."

Lauren Blumenfeld plays a desperate and
clueless college friend in Stepdaddy

Written by Anna Greenfield and directed by Lisa Steen, Stepdaddy reaches a delicious climax shortly after Patty blurts out that (since she's older now and all alone) the only person she could think of who might be willing to donate sperm to fertilize her frozen eggs is Wyatt. Seeing the shocked look on Wyatt's face, Patty decides to make a quick exit but, as she opens the front door, is stunned and confused to see her handsome father standing there. It turns out that Fred (Peter Gallagher) also has some big news for his daughter. "I know it's sudden, but when you're my age, you just know," he explains. "Patty -- meet your new......"

End of scene.

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If you prefer to watch unrequited love play out on a much larger scale, the San Francisco Opera's new production of George Frideric Handel's 1733 opera, Orlando, might be more to your liking (especially if you're interested in seeing and hearing a theorbo in action). In his program note, director Harry Fehr writes:

“Carlo Capece’s Orlando, inspired by Ludovico Ariosto’s epic poem Orlando Furioso, was altered more radically than almost any other text which Handel set. Two significant roles were almost entirely removed, while the shepherdess Dorinda took on a new, quasi-comic character. Most interestingly, an entirely new protagonist was introduced: Zoroastro, a sorcerer who has no equivalent in Capece’s original. The idea of taking this piece, which is so vague in its indication of time and place, and locating it somewhere absolutely specific appealed to me. Researching the history of mental illness and its treatment, I learnt that the 1930s was a period of great experimentation in this field and, by the end of that decade, of course, Europe had been plunged into war. This struck me as the ideal context in which to place this narrative. As I researched further, it became apparent what further choices I should make to achieve the specificity I wanted. It is Britain in the early autumn of 1940. Orlando is a Royal Air Force pilot, a vital asset to the military while the Battle of Britain is raging. Zoroastro, perhaps a Jewish refugee from continental Europe, is a military doctor, seeking a cure to get the love-struck flying ace back into the sky.”

Christian Van Horn as Zoroastro in Orlando
(Photo by: Cory Weaver)

“The scandal of King Edward VIII’s abdication to marry the American divorcée Wallis Simpson is a recent example of how love leads to dereliction of duty. Medoro, meanwhile, is a soldier recently evacuated from Dunkirk, recuperating under the care of the young nurse, Dorinda. Angelica, who talks frequently of returning to her homeland, is an American at a time when America was still neutral. She has encountered Medoro on his arrival back in Britain from Dunkirk, and fallen in love with him. Very wealthy, she is paying for him to have the best private care money can buy. These five characters will encounter each other in a military hospital based, in fact, on a real hospital which was opened in 1933, and which still stands in West London. Given that every location as stipulated by the libretto is outside, and that imagery relating to the natural world permeates it, it is perhaps surprising how little the rational, modern, interior world of this production is at odds with the text. In a few places, it’s true, we have made a small textual adjustment to ensure that what a character sings does not conflict with what the audience sees. However, in making these slight amendments to fit the circumstances of this performance, I like to think that I have channeled the spirit of Handel and how he approached existing texts for use in his own new productions.”

Christina Gansch (Dorinda), Heida Stober (Angelica), and
Aryeh Nussbaum Cohen (Medoro) in a scene from Orlando
(Photo by: Cory Weaver)

Using a staging that originated at the Scottish Opera in 2011 and was revived at Welsh National Opera in 2015, the elegant production design by Yannis Thavoris (with lighting for this revival designed by Tim van ‘t Hof and projections designed by Andrzej Goulding) was modeled after the Royal Masonic Hospital in Ravenscourt Park. Thanks to the use of a revolving turntable, the audience is easily transported from a hospital corridor and reception area to a psych ward in the clinic where the hero is subjected to psychological profiling. In other scenes, Orlando undergoes electroshock therapy and is confined to an isolation room during one of his psychotic episodes.

Sasha Cooke and Christian Van Horn in a scene
from Orlando (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

Other than some annoying video projections that focus on the ring Orlando (Sasha Cooke) gave to Angelica (Heidi Stober), I loved the look of this production. Thanks to conductor Christopher Moulds, I loved much of the sound of the production as well. Last year, when countertenor David Daniels was forced to withdraw (due to accusations of sexual harassment at other opera companies), Aryeh Nussbaum Cohen (an Adler Fellow) was recruited to learn the role of Medoro for his mainstage debut with the company. Cohen acquitted himself splendidly, showing bright potential for an international career.

Countertenor Aryeh Nussbaum Cohen (Medoro) was
one of Orlando's shining assets (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

Bass-baritone Christian Van Horn (a recipient of the 2018 Richard Tucker Award) returned to San Francisco Opera as Zoroastro, the neurologist who thinks he can shock Orlando back to his senses so that the war hero can regain his libido as well as his sense of joy. As always, Heidi Stober's performance was notable for its solid artistry.

Sadly, Sasha Cooke was not up to the demands of
the title role in Orlando (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

Although the five principal artists were singing their roles for the first time in this production, a most unfortunate casting decision left a gaping hole in the performance. To put it bluntly, mezzo-soprano Sasha Cooke (who was chosen to portray Orlando) was severely overparted. I cannot clearly articulate why, in so many passages, her voice was nearly inaudible in the part of her vocal range that should be a mezzo's greatest strength. Despite the fact that Cooke had previously sung the role of Medoro on several occasions, her performance in San Francisco left many audience members wondering who cast her in the role and why.

The complicated romances that unfold in Handel's opera boil down to the following: Orlando is a famous soldier betrothed to Angelica. Though he is suffering from severe depression and still loves her, she no longer loves him. Instead, Angelica is head over heels in love with another wounded soldier (Medoro), whom she hopes to marry once he is released from the hospital so that they can return to her homeland and live happily ever after. To cover for her infidelity, Angelica accuses Orlando of having an affair with another woman. When Orlando learns about the intense relationship between Angelica and Medoro he becomes psychotic and starts flirting with Dorinda.

Heidi Stober as Angelica in Orlando (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

But there's a big problem. While taking care of Medoro's wounds, Dorinda has fallen in love with him. Then she discovers that he loves Angelica. When Orlando goes bonkers in Dorinda's presence, he starts raving about the possibility of marrying Dorinda. That leaves a working wartime nurse with a curious conflict of interest: Should she marry one patient for love or another for money? What if the man she chooses leaves her high and dry?

The saving grace of the performance I attended was Austrian soprano Christina Gansch who, as Dorinda, appears as a nurse rather than a shepherdess. With a healthy voice, solid acting chops, and impressive musicianship, Gansch demonstrated a much stronger level of artistry than her colleagues and basically walked off with the show.

Christina Gansch (Dorinda) stole the show in SFOpera's
production of Orlando (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

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Not every love triangle has a happy ending. Sometimes a person's lonely, embittered soul can espy a relatively happy but seemingly unattainable mate and (subconsciously or unconsciously) set about poisoning its target's heart and soul with thoughts that are neither jealous nor malicious. What may have begun as a moment of misguided infatuation soon takes on the appearance of a parasitic neediness which, out of loneliness, despair, and desperation, recognizes no emotional boundaries.

John Melis (Giorgio) and Heather Orth (Fosca)
in a scene from Passion (Photo by: Jay Yamada)

Thus, when a soldier assigned to a remote Italian village in 1863 catches the eye of a severely depressed, physically unattractive woman suffering from an undiagnosed physical ailment (who was humped and dumped by a callous playboy who gambled away her family's fortune), it should surprise no one that her neediness grows increasingly toxic. Such is the case with the unfortunate Fosca (Heather Orth), who spots Giorgio (John Melis) through a window as he arrives at his new military post and quickly concludes that he's not like the boorish men under the command of her cousin, Colonel Ricci (Domonic Tracy).

Juliana Lustenader (Clara) and John Melis (Giorgio)
in a scene from Passion (Photo by: Jay Yamada)

Upon his arrival, Giorgio is already very much in love with Clara (Juliana Lustenader), a young mother living in Rome who has never shown any desire to leave the security of her marriage in order to run away with her lover. As Passion (a 1994 musical with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and book by James Lapine) begins, Giorgio and Clara are coping with the news that he must soon leave Rome to report for his new assignment. As a result, their seemingly conventional love affair will have to be kept alive through written correspondence while he is away, leaving both lovers vulnerable to outside influences.

Juliana Lustenader (Clara) and John Melis (Giorgio)
in a scene from Passion (Photo by: Jay Yamada)

Passion made its Broadway debut on May 19, 1994 at the Plymouth Theatre with a cast headed by Donna Murphy (Fosca), Jere Shea (Giorgio), and Marin Mazzie (Clara). Although Patti LuPone had been offered the role of Fosca, she instead chose to star in the world premiere of Andrew Lloyd Webber's new musical, Sunset Boulevard, in London. As Passion approaches the 25th anniversary of its Broadway premiere (which ran for 280 performances and won the Tony Award for Best Musical), San Francisco's Custom Made Theatre is presenting it in a production directed by Stuart Bousel with set design by Bernadette Flynn, costumes by Kathleen Qui, and lighting by Tina Johnson.

The male chorus for Passion (Photo by: Jay Yamada)

Unlike some of Sondheim's more grandiose scores (Follies, Pacific Overtures, Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street), Passion is essentially a chamber opera with a small chorus of military men and two women (Amy Alvino and Kelly Rubinsohn) doubling as maids and minor characters in the plot. Sondheim fanatics will pick up on musical motifs whose roots can be traced back to scenes between Ben and Sally in 1971's Follies and the score for 1987's Into the Woods.

Although recordings of Passion have been made with the original Broadway (1994), London (1997), Dutch (2004), and off-Broadway (2013) casts, the one I would really love to hear is the 2012 recording of the entire show in German which was scored for a full symphony orchestra and performed by the cast from the Dresden State Operetta. With far fewer financial resources and a tiny theatre, Custom Made's production relies on a trio of musicians (conductor Brian Allan Hobbs on piano, Sheldon Brown on woodwinds, and Ami Nashimoto on cello). While this tiny ensemble does a reasonable job with a reduced orchestration, I cannot even begin to comprehend why sound designer Anton Hedman saw fit to amplify the calls of a military bugle to the grotesquely aggressive level of a boat horn.

Though the role of Clara fills a necessary function, Passion's true love story is the one that insidiously grows and festers in Fosca's mind until (aided and abetted by the misguided Doctor Tombourri), it begins to consume the good-hearted Giorgio, who discovers that his new, complex, relationship with a strangely unattractive and medically doomed woman is far more interesting, challenging, and perhaps even dangerous than the blandness that increasingly seems to be Clara's chief asset.

John Melis (Giorgio) and Heather Orth (Fosca)
in a scene from Passion (Photo by: Jay Yamada)

In this production, John Melis and Heather Orth deliver beautifully layered performances as a soldier (who learns that there's a lot more to life than taking orders) and a frustrated, lonely woman audiences could easily grow to hate. In smaller roles, Jake Gleason portrays the meddling Tombourri (whose patient seems to be dying of emotional improvement) while Carl Lucania doubles as Fosca's father and the company cook, Lombardi. Zaya Kolia shines as the greasy Count Ludovic. Others in the ensemble include Roy Eikleberry (Torosso), Max Seijas (Rizzoli), and Micah Watterson (Barri).

Performances of Passion continue through July 20 at the Custom Made Theatre (click here for tickets). Here's a brief clip from the sitzprobe.

With Catlike Tread, Upon Our Prey We Steal

Religious fundamentalists and conservative politicians love to talk about how evildoers are determined to ruin America. Yet they seem perfectly comfortable raising their children on Disney movies whose villains are named Maleficent, Scar, and Cruella de Vil. And who doesn't love that famous family friendly film where the Wicked Witch of the West screeches "I'll get you and your little dog, too!"

New generations often display new tastes in entertainment. The genteel manner in which Jessica Fletcher solved mysterious deaths on Murder, She Wrote has been replaced by the intense drama of American Horror Story. So perhaps it's advisable to check out Law.com's website for a professional definition of malice aforethought:

"(1) the conscious intent to cause death or great bodily harm to another person before a person commits the crime. Such malice is a required element to prove first degree murder. (2) a general evil and depraved state of mind in which the person is unconcerned for the lives of others."

In her article in The Stranger entitled "The Older Generation to Young Gay Men: 'Why the Fuck Are You Complaining?'" Katie Herzog writes:

"When the U.S. Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage for good (or at least for now), Jeffrey and Rodney got married for a second time. But all these experiences -- having a court invalidate his relationships not once but twice, surviving the AIDS crisis, losing the first man he'd really loved, seeing countless friends and lovers get thinner and thinner before they just disappeared -- have given him a vastly different perspective on what is happening right now in American life than many younger queer people, who feel hurt and oppressed when someone uses the wrong pronoun or when a straight actor plays someone gay."

Sometimes the strangest words can trigger a violent reaction, as evidenced in the following comedic short being screened during the 2019 Frameline Film Festival.


From the latest addition to the Godzilla franchise (Godzilla: King of the Monsters) to the recent announcement that Robert Pattinson is the newest movie star to be cast as Batman (The Batman has an official release date of June 25, 2021), some of today's hottest action films mix malice aforethought with pop culture and dress it all up with hefty doses of CGI-scripted magical realism.

Wikipedia defines magical realism as "a style of fiction that paints a realistic view of the modern world while also adding magical elements. It is sometimes called fabulism, in reference to the conventions of fables, myths, and allegory... with magic or the supernatural presented in an otherwise real-world or mundane setting." For a better understanding of magical realism, consider Stephanie Strick's description in her recent program note entitled “Many Ways To Skin A Cat.”

“Skinning as a literary device has an origin in folklore traditions and fairy tales. While certainly a gruesome activity in real life, the presence of skinning in these stories typically heralds an irrevocable shift in the lives of the tale’s characters. The selkie, a figure in the folklore of many regions in Scandinavia and the British Isles, is perhaps the most salient example. In an 1869 collection of Irish folktales, author Patrick Kennedy describes the silkie (selkie) as an otherworldly seal creature who can remove her fur skin and become a woman. One day, a man steals the selkie’s skin and hides it away, barring her from the waters she knows and stranding her ashore. He then marries her. The selkie’s seal skin represents her identity, her ability to move fluidly between worlds. Its terrible loss confines her to the man’s domain.”

A painting of a selkie removing her seal skin

“An Italian skinning story, “The Old Woman Who Was Skinned,” portrays a main character who seeks someone else to skin them. In this 1634 fairy tale by Giambattista Basile, a vain woman persuades a barber to skin her to make her younger. This tale envisions skinning as a type of rebirth, the stripping away of one’s former self in order to start fresh with new choices.”

Kevin R. Free and John William Watkins in
a scene from Wink (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

While many pet owners like to joke that "dogs have masters, cats have staff," a new piece of absurdist theatre receiving its world premiere from the Marin Theatre Company proves that shapeshifting and magical realism are as potent as ever when it comes to reeling an audience in to the outrageous worldview of a contemporary comedy.

Liz Sklar as Sofie in Wink (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio)

Jen Silverman's new play, Wink, may seem like a normal domestic comedy for about two minutes but, soon after Sofie (Liz Sklar) starts fretting about her missing cat (Wink), things get curiouser and curiouser. With scenery and costumes designed by Dane Laffrey, lighting by Jen Schreiver, and sound design by Jake Rodriguez, the audience soon discovers that Sofie and her husband, Gregor (Seann Gallagher), are seeing the same shrink: the fastidious Doctor Frans (Kevin R. Free).

Kevin R. Free (Doctor Frans) and Seann Gallagher (Gregor)
in a scene from Wink (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio)

Not only does Gregor confess to Dr. Frans that he has killed, skinned, and buried Sofie's beloved cat, he worries that instead of feeling guilty, it made him feel stronger, releasing a strangely intoxicating sensation of rage. Though Dr. Frans hypothesizes that Gregor may be struggling with latent homosexual tendencies, Gregor is convinced that some other force is at play.

Meanwhile, Sofie has taken to vacuuming their home with a vengeance as a way of releasing her own anger at Wink's disappearance. In a highly theatrical psychotic break, she switches from robotic housecleaning to a destructive rage as she tears apart the living room (breaking vases, upturning chairs, throwing cat toys across the room, dumping Wink's litter box all over the rug, and pounding holes into the walls).

Liz Sklar as Sofie in Wink (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio)

Cut to a new scene in which Dr. Frans is suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a bizarre figure slithering over the top of his office wall. It's the skinless Wink (brilliantly embodied by John William Watkins), who has decided that what he really wants is not calm, but a chance to hunt and exact revenge.

“I’m a queer woman, so my lens on my work is shaped by both my gender and my queerness,” states Silverman. "I was raised across many different countries, so my characters are often outsiders of a kind, in ways both obvious and buried. These are unconscious resonances that draw me toward characters, however, not intellectual decisions about recognition. The development period for this play allowed me to discover that, at its heart, this is a story about transformation: our capacity for it, our need for it, the damage it does to the structures we’ve built, and the necessity of rebuilding our lives at a certain point (or building them differently). It’s been good practice as a writer to create and discard many, many drafts in pursuit of the play’s best container and its sharpest questions.”

Seann Gallagher as Gregor in Wink (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio)

The transformations in Wink are pretty astonishing and, in Gregor's case, can be traced to certain hunting rituals that employed sympathetic magic in primitive cultures (as described in Sir James George Frazer's masterpiece, The Golden Bough). Whether Gregor develops a fetish for Wink's fur (which he eventually starts wearing as an empowering piece of underwear) or Sofie starts believing that she has been raped by a terrorist named Ronald who crawled through a window, their diminishing grip on reality is matched by Dr. Frans, who falls head over heels in love with a skinless, deceased cat to which he has become increasingly subservient, and Wink (who has taken to wearing the pants in their relationship).


“In Jen Silverman’s play, Gregor’s act of skinning his wife’s cat creates a ripple effect across the lives of all four characters, disrupting the patterns in their lives and uncovering unknown selves," observes Stephanie Strick. "Even Wink, who luxuriates in his plan for hunt and revenge, encounters opportunities he never expected. As the characters wrestle with their impulses, they open up to the terrifying and liberating possibilities of change.”

Liz Sklar (Sofie) and Seann Gallagher (Gregor) in
a scene from Wink (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio)

Mike Donahue has done a splendid job of directing Wink's world premiere production, drawing beautiful performances from his four-actor ensemble. While Seann Gallagher and Kevin R. Free give strong performances as Gregor and Dr. Frans, Liz Sklar gives one of her best performances in recent years as Sofie, with John William Watkins stealing the show whenever he is onstage.

Liz Sklar and John William Watkins in a scene
from Wink (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio)

By the end of the play, Sofie prefers to be called Ronald, Wink has moved on to greater adventures, and Gregor is down on his knees, howling at the moon. One could easily say that "the cat's out of the bag" with regard to Silverman's 75-minute play (which I'm pretty sure will have a long and healthy life on regional stages and in college theatre departments). It would also be interesting to see a small theatre company plan a season around a theme of pets and bestiality that includes a production of Wink along with Mary Chase's Harvey (which won the 1945 Pulitzer Prize for Drama), Eugene Ionesco's Rhinoceros (1959), and Edward Albee's The Goat, or Who is Sylvia? (which was a finalist for the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for Drama). Performances of Wink continue through July 7 at the Marin Theatre Company (click here for tickets). Here's the trailer:

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Most tourists exploring Copenhagen (or taking a guided tour of Denmark's capital city) make a point of visiting Edvard Eriksen's famous statue of The Little Mermaid. First unveiled in 1913, the beloved icon was inspired by Hans Christian Andersen, whose popular fairy tale, The Little Mermaid, was first published in 1837. Today, Denmark's ambitious little social climber can be seen in numerous forms of entertainment:

• Full-length animated feature films include Walt Disney's 1989 adaptation of The Little Mermaid as well as Hayao Miyazaki's 2008 anime version, Ponyo.
• In 2005, The Little Mermaid was choreographed by John Neumeier for the Royal Danish Ballet (the San Francisco Ballet added Neumeier's full-length ballet to its repertoire in 2010).
• Broadway musicals include 1990's Once On This Island and 2008's screen-to-stage adaptation of The Little Mermaid (based on Disney's 1989 hit).

The San Francisco Opera is currently presenting Antonin Dvorak's 1901 opera, Rusalka, which premiered in Prague. Using the handsome David McVicar production (with sets designed by John Macfarlane, costumes by Moritz Junge, and lighting by David Finn) borrowed from the Lyric Opera of Chicago, the company has a major hit on its hand thanks, in no small part, to the exceptional work of conductor Eun Sun Kim.

Rachel Willis‐Sørensen stars in Rusalka (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

Like other versions of The Little Mermaid, Rusalka is not only awash in magical realism, it boasts a resourceful, conniving witch named Ježibaba (Jamie Barton) who has plenty of malice aforethought. Add in the heroine's formidable father, a water goblin named Vodník (Kristinn Sigmundsson), a trio of wood nymphs (Natalie Image, Simone McIntosh, and Ashley Dixon), and a jealous foreign princess (Sarah Cambidge) who wants to make the handsome prince (Brandon Jovanovich) her own, and it's easy to see how, with the right ingredients, Rusalka can cast a magical spell over any audience.

Jamie Barton as Ježibaba in Rusalka (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

In his program note entitled "Finding The Way to Rusalka," Larry Rothe writes:

“[Librettist Jaroslav] Kvapil created Rusalka from several sources (mainly Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid, but also Undine by the German writer Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué). With their aquatic settings and fantastic characters, these stories provided material that Kvapil framed as a folk tale, meshing with Dvorák’s current passion. Kvapil dwells on images of the moon, whose mysterious light radiates throughout a world fraught with the dangers of wished-for enchantment. The libretto indeed reveals few particularly Slavic elements beyond the names in the dramatis personae (although the witch Ježibaba will reappear in operas by another Czech composer, morphing into one of Janácek’s mean-spirited village crones). Whether it was the story Kvapil told or the tone he adopted, his libretto touched Dvorák.”

Rachel Willis‐Sørensen and Jamie Barton in a scene
from Rusalka (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

“In Rusalka, Dvorák’s opera ambition coincided with his love of legend. The composer seems unbothered by a sometimes blurry plot with the potential to encourage considerable interpretive leeway. Dvorák folded these into the musical context of Slavic legend. We hear the bardic harp as Rusalka is introduced, and again as the Prince meets her. We hear melodies inspired by Czech folk tunes and dances. Dvorák knew what made opera work. Early on, as violist in the orchestra at Prague’s National Theatre, he learned about the stage. By 1901, when Rusalka was premiered, he had already written eight operas (although none had attracted much interest outside Bohemia). Rusalka changed that. It brought him his biggest theatrical triumph, at home and abroad.”

Rachel Willis‐Sørensen and Kristinn Sigmundsson
in a scene from Rusalka (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

My first exposure to this opera's charms came as I watched my friend, Lilian Sukis, perform Rusalka's hauntingly beautiful "Song To The Moon" before a class of voice students at the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto. In 1991, I saw my first fully-staged performance of Rusalka starring Renée Fleming at the Seattle Opera. But, as directed by Leah Hausman for the San Francisco Opera, McVicar's production proved to be a deliciously rewarding and glorious treat.

Brandon Jovanovich as The Prince in Rusalka
(Photo by: Cory Weaver)

Like Richard Wagner's Rienzi, Giachino Rossini's Il Viaggo a Reims, Jules Massenet's Esclarmonde, Carlo Maria von Weber's Der Freischutz, Ponchielli's La Gioconda, and Verdi's I Due Foscari, Rusalka is hardly a staple of the operatic repertoire. While some sopranos occasionally offer the "Song To The Moon" as an encore following their recitals, the opera's score contains a wealth of lush and richly colored music.

Sarah Cambidge as the Foreign Princess in Rusalka
(Photo by: Cory Weaver)

Dramatically, Rusalka is a fairly tight piece of work whose three acts contain little if any downtime. Act II, Scene II even contains a brief yet fairly traditional ballet (nicely executed here to comic effect by Rachel Speidel Little and Christopher Nachtrab). In addition to the romantic leads and female villains (Ježibaba and the Foreign Princess), there are three nicely-written small roles for a forester (Philip Horst), kitchen boy (Laura Krumm), and hunter (Andrew Manea).

Kristinn Sigmundsson as the Water Demon
in Rusalka (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

Towering over the performance is soprano Rachel Willis‐Sørensen's moving portrayal of the title character (who starts out as a confused young water nymph with a goal of upward mobility but, after agreeing to a witch's bargain, finds herself very much a "fish out of water" in the Prince's castle). Tenor Brandon Jovanovich returned to the San Francisco Opera with a powerfully-voiced portrait of the privileged, fickle Prince. Throughout the performance, the vocal work from lead artists and secondary singers was rock solid. Choreographer Andrew George and chorus director Ian Robertson also deserve kudos for their artistic contributions to the production.

Rachel Willis‐Sørensen and Brandon Jovanovich
in a scene from Rusalka (Photo by: Cory Weaver)

Over five decades of attending operatic performances, I've witnessed numerous productions (ranging from Humperdinck's Hansel und Gretel and Strauss's Die Frau Ohne Schatten to Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld and Wagner's Die Fliegende Hollander) whose stories involve a curious mix of mythological figures and mere mortals. MacVicar's production of Rusalka rises to this challenge with exceptional grace as it carries the action from a haunted forest -- where horny wood nymphs are running between the trees -- to a dark kitchen and stately ballroom within the Prince's castle. As far as I'm concerned, any stage director who can milk some comedy from a scene in which a kitchen boy stuffs a goose's carcass to the sounds of Dvorak's music deserves extra credit!

Laura Krumm (Kitchen Boy) and Philip Horst (Gamekeeper)
in a scene from Rusalka (Photo by: Cory Weaver)