Strong characters with Russian accents, a story line set in an era unfamiliar to teenagers, an elaborate set design with complicated lighting cues and music that covers the waterfront — it’s no wonder the high school drama department started work on this play last spring.
But they did and the hard work was evident at Chess the Musical, which opened last night at the high school Performing Arts Center and shows again tonight and on Sunday this weekend.
The results of Imp Camp will be on display once again today beginning at noon at the Edgartown School.
For those out of the loop, Imp Camp is an improv retreat for kids under 18 where they not only learn the craft, they take it to the stage. How’s that for hands-on camping?
Today’s performance includes songs from the Lion King, scenes from All I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, My Homework, and Bears, Beware; Goldilocks Is in Your Town.
Transformed into what appears to be a room of curiosities, the Yard’s black-box theatre this week evokes a sense of wonder. A guitar leans against a funky metal chair, a streetlight stands in one corner, a piano is angled in the other and a lamp with no shade illuminates the stage.
But there’s a softness to the lighting that smooths what might be rougher edges of junk and turns it into a collection of life’s treasures.
Jameison Sennott was three years old when he first heard Stevie Wonder’s I Just Called To Say I Love You and picked out the melody on keyboard. Soon after, he climbed on to the bench of his aunt’s piano and played a rendition of Chopsticks. In high school, he found out he had perfect pitch.
He never thought of the era when he wrote TV comedy as the Golden Age. For him that honorific was reserved for the earlier epoch of Sid Caesar and Carl Reiner. But Marty Nadler, staff writer and producer in the 70s and 80s of Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, Chico and the Man, The Odd Couple, Perfect Strangers, Valerie, and Amen, was part of a time in Hollywood entertainment that, hands down, is considered Most Funny.
The American Dream can conjure up many images. Something to aspire to, something that excludes, something that is as prevalent as ever or something outdated and no longer even available to anyone. In any case, it is a particular American phrase and way of life and something most everyone has an opinion about. The problem arises when discussing the topic with family or friends; like anything leaning toward the political, it can get a bit too hot to handle.
Tennessee Williams (1911-1983) was born in Columbus, Mississippi, with all the proper psychological accoutrements to become a great writer. His family was abysmally dysfunctional, his mother a narcissist with a streak of snobbery, denial and grandiosity (much like the mother in The Glass Menagerie), and his father an often-absent, smalltime businessman with a temper, active fists and an aversion to his delicate son, who, as we all know, was destined to grow up to be a homosexual, a tough row to hoe in the deep South.
From the streetfront, the Vineyard Arts Project appears to be another large house on Main street. There is no hint that past its picket fence is unfolding, in turn: life on the Texas-Mexico border; family drama at a racially-charged estate; and people singing and dancing about the financial crisis.
This week the play 5 Mojo Secrets began its run at the Vineyard Playhouse. The play tells the story of a successful African American couple as they try to sort out what happened to their once happy marriage. It is a subject every married couple, even the happiest, can relate to. After all, how do two separate individuals retain their own identity and aspirations while also becoming that one unit known as husband and wife? It is a challenge that many decide is just too great.
