Rather than make up for the story’s slack with spectacle, director Mary McDonald-Lewis embraces the play’s laid-back pace, allowing room for meaningful looks and pensive pauses that give viewers space to appreciate Shakespeare’s gag-heavy dialogue.
‘The Tempest’ is more sweet than stormy in Speculative Drama’s mellow version
The time is 1994; the place is Big Bone, Oregon, a company town run by the Cooney Lumber Mill, an old-fashioned firm with a high fatality rate and, for reasons never quite explained, a reputation for employing only the best secretaries in the world. They are, by their own admission, a clique, dressed in pink cashmere sweaters and pencil skirts, slurping SlimFast and communicating in giggles and chittering chipmunk noises. Also, once each month, they murder a man and chop his body into pieces.
Good things are happening in downtown Vancouver. Like Portland, our northern suburb let its once-vibrant center become a bleak desert of parking lots and pawn shops for decades after I-5 bisected the city. Major efforts at revival starting in the late 1990s filled in many of downtown’s vacant lots with condos, and organic growth has followed. While empty buildings still abound these days, the areas east and north of Esther Short Park are now home to excellent breweries, cafes, restaurants and bars. Here are a few that are worth crossing the Interstate Bridge for—traffic allowing, of course.
“The Thanksgiving Play,” a biting new comedy by the Sicangu Lakota playwright Larissa FastHorse, exposes the uselessness of good intentions. Its yoga-practicing, privilege-checking, farmers-market-shopping characters know that performing Native characters in “redface” is wrong, that the Thanksgiving narrative is “problematic,” that the history of the United States is one of oppression and subjugation, but they’re blind to the arrogance of their enterprise.
Given the awful violence all too often perpetrated against trans people, I watched the first half of “The Mermaid Hour” with a growing sense of dread. I needn’t have worried; this isn’t that sort of show. Though there are plenty of tears and self-questioning — when Pilar realizes the hormonal treatments Violet wants will make her sterile; when Violet is rejected by her gay best friend, Jacob (Kai Hynes); when Bird admits to missing the son he thought he had — everyone winds up pretty much OK.
“I may look how I look, but that don’t mean I am how I look,” Lulu tells Walter as they share a joint on his balcony, and she speaks for everyone in the show. “Between Riverside and Crazy” rejects predictable narrative and neat morality. It celebrates self-liberation but acknowledges the harm one person’s freedom can inflict on others. It reflects the grime of real life but teeters on the edge of fantasy.
Beyond finding interesting parts for women in a play that otherwise has little room for them, Van Der Merwe’s erasure of gender shines a light on the Macbeth’s obsession with manliness: feeling like a man, fighting like a man, killing like a man, dying like a man. In “Macbeth,” as all too often in our own times, manhood is inextricably tied to violence.
In its bittersweet tone, as in many other respects, “Kodachrome” recalls Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town.” It is set in a small New England town — the real and very New-Englandy Colchester, Connecticut. And it’s driven by an all-seeing, third-wall-breaking narrator: The Photographer (Lena Kaminsky), a shutterbug whose luminous images of buildings and people have made her the unofficial recorder of local life.
Güero is much more than a sandwich shop — it’s a multisensory experience in which sandwiches are served. By day, Güero is light-filled and cheery; by night, it hums. On a recent weekday evening, pretty young couples traded rock-climbing stories over mezcal cocktails and oversized tortas in the warm, low light — subdued but not quite dim.
When Olympia Provisions, Portland’s acclaimed sausage-maker, announced the second permanent location of its hotdog-joint spinoff, OP Wurst, in 2016, the decision was baffling to some. The first location, in downtown Portland’s Pine Street Market, was already a big hit, so an expansion made sense. But why Oregon City?