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NOLLYWOOD DREAMS

Sisters Ayamma (Sandra Okuboyejo) and Dede (Nana Mensah) are about to have a superstar travel into their lives in Nollywood Dreams (photo by Daniel J. Vasquez)

Newman Mills Theater, the Robert W. Wilson MCC Theater Space
511 West 52nd St. between Tenth & Eleventh Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through November 28, $39-$88 (use code MCC)
mcctheater.org

“When your spirit is sad and you’ve given up / and you don’t know where to go / Don’t get down, turn around / Pick up that remote and tune into your favorite show!” So goes the theme song to the popular Adenikeh! talk show in Jocelyn Bioh’s Nollywood Dreams. The same can be said for the play itself, an appealingly sweet comedy continuing at MCC through November 28.

Nollywood Dreams is set in Lagos, Nigeria, in the early 1990s, during the rise of the Nigerian film industry, what would come to be known as Nollywood, named after Hollywood and Bollywood. Gbenga Ezie (Charlie Hudson III), who studied in New York City before becoming Nigeria’s most popular filmmaker, is holding an open casting call for his new movie, The Comfort Zone, looking for an actress to play the love interest of superstar celebrity and all-around hottie Wale Owusu (Ade Otukoya), a blend of Tom Cruise, Denzel Washington, George Clooney, and Will Smith.

Ayamma Okafor (Sandra Okuboyejo), a young woman who works in her parents’ travel agency, is determined to get the part despite her lack of experience. “This is my calling,” she tells her gossipy older sister, Dede (Nana Mensah), who works with her and believes that Wale is destined to be her future husband. When Ayamma arrives at Gbenga’s Nollywood Dreams Studios, she faces off against her main competition, established star Fayola Ogunleye (Emana Rachelle), the “Nigerian Halle Berry with Tina Turner legs,” who is willing to go to extreme lengths in order to get the role. But Ayamma is not going to just sit back and let that happen.

Director Gbenga Ezie (Charlie Hudson III) gossips with popular talk show host Adenikeh (Abena) in Nollywood Dreams (photo by Daniel J. Vasquez)

“Ah, I am so silly! How could I not see — you are perfect for the role of Comfort’s mother!” Ayamma snarkily says. After they read together, Ayamma tells Fayola, “I will never forget this day for the rest of my life,” to which Fayola responds, “That is nice. At least one of us will remember it.” When Ayamma later meets Wale, sparks fly, complicating Gbenga’s ultimate decision, as the movie-within-the-play is a ridiculously soapy tale that just might be based on Gbenga’s real life, echoing the relationship between him, Fayola, Wale, and Ayamma, which serves as fodder for Adenikeh (Abena) and her show.

Arnulfo Maldonado’s set switches back and forth between the travel agency, which features two old floppy-disk computers and posters of vacations to African nations, and Gbenga’s studio, which shares some of the same furniture while the walls are plastered with silly movie posters. The stage morphs into Adenikeh’s program several times, the central couch and chair moving forward toward the audience, with a backdrop where Alex Basco Koch’s projections play. (The mystery of the quick set changes is eventually revealed.) Abena is a blast as the talk show host, part Oprah Winfrey, part Wendy Williams, pronouncing her words very carefully — especially “Nigeria” — while wearing ornate African finery by award-winning costumer Dede Ayite.

Director Saheem Ali, who also helmed Bioh’s terrific School Girls; or, the African Mean Girls Play and overrated Shakespeare in the Park presentation Merry Wives, in addition to Anna Deavere Smith’s Fires in the Mirror at the Signature, Chris Urch’s The Rolling Stone at Lincoln Center, and Donja R. Love’s Fireflies at the Atlantic, takes just the right approach with the clever material, mixing slapstick comedy with sweet romantic flourishes. Bioh, who has appeared in such plays as Suzan-Lori Parks’s In the Blood, Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’s Everybody and An Octoroon, and Jaclyn Backhaus’s Men on Boats, explores not only celebrity culture and Nigerian film but class differences and ethnocentrism in Nollywood Dreams. After explaining to a phone caller that the Serengeti is not in Nigeria, Ayamma says to Dede, “These white people.” Her sister adds, “Africa is a country to them, you know that.”

In a script note, Bioh, an MCC playwright in residence who was born in New York City to Ghanaian parents and grew up watching low-budget Nollywood movies as a child in Washington Heights, writes, “Many of the themes of these [Nollywood] films dealt with love or family issues but were layered in subtext about the political strife/temperature of the country . . . telling the story of the sad duality that existed in Nigeria at the time: live like the rich or suffer like the poor — there is no middle. One could say the same about America, but I digress.”

In her daily greeting, Adenikeh says, “Thank you for letting me bring love into your home.” With Nollywood Dreams, Bioh, Ali, and a cool cast have brought love into the theater, as we finally escape our homes and return to live shows, especially irresistible ones such as Nollywood Dreams.

BOB DYLAN: ROUGH AND ROWDY WAYS WORLD TOUR 2021–2024

BOB DYLAN: ROUGH AND ROWDY WAYS
Beacon Theatre, 2124 Broadway at 74th St., November 19–21
Capitol Theatre, Port Chester, November 23-24
www.bobdylan.com

After being off the road for nearly two years because of the pandemic lockdown, Bob Dylan’s never-ending tour is back in action, returning to the Beacon Theatre this weekend in support of the Nobel Prize winner’s latest record, 2020’s phenomenal Rough and Rowdy Ways. Dylan rarely speaks to the audience during his live shows, except to introduce his crack band — and, on November 19, to celebrate that New York City is open again — but he had a lot to say in his setlist choices, essentially acknowledging that, at eighty, he might have only so much time left to do this.

He starts with 1971’s “Watching the River Flow,” declaring, “Oh, this ol’ river keeps on rollin’, though / No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow / And as long as it does I’ll just sit here / And watch the river flow . . . I’ll sit down on this bank of sand / And watch the river flow.” The ninety-minute concert concludes with 1981’s “Every Grain of Sand,” in which Dylan admits, “Don’t have the inclination to look back on any mistake / Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break / In the fury of the moment I can see the Master’s hand / In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.” (Although in past tours Dylan and the band would come out for two encores, he stopped doing that after the first two November concerts this year.)

He’s taking stock of his life, poignantly and publicly, right in front of our eyes — even though we can barely see him. The lighting keeps Dylan in a shadowy darkness, as if he doesn’t want us to see him clearly. As has been his desire for many years, no photography is allowed, and Beacon employees enforce that rule with vigor. He remains mostly behind his piano, which has now been turned so we cannot see his hands playing it, as we could in the past. He stands uncomfortably, at times reaching out his right hand to grasp the top of the piano for balance. (He no longer plays the guitar or harmonica, perhaps because of arthritis.) When he emerges briefly to croon at the back of the stage — he used to come front and center — as he does during the old Frank Sinatra standard “Melancholy Mood,” he is slightly hunched over and barely moves his feet. He pleads, “Pity me and break the chains / The chains that bind me / Won’t you release me, set me free?”

Dylan and the band are all dressed in black: Bob Britt and Doug Lancio on guitars, Tony Garnier on upright and electric bass, Donnie Herron on pedal steel, violin, and accordion, and Charlie Drayton on drums. They all keep a close eye on Bob as he signals them like a gentle conductor. During an aggressive “Gotta Serve Somebody,” he looked into the audience a few times; I thought I saw a smile or two, but my wife thought they were grimaces. “You might be a rock ’n’ roll addict prancing on the stage . . . But you’re gonna have to serve somebody,” he sings, with nary a prance.

Even given all that, Dylan is a marvel. His raspy voice, well rested from the long break, sounds better than it has in years. His enunciation is precise, his phrasing as strong as ever. He continually reinvents his old songs, which are barely recognizable at first, reconfiguring them with a bluesy jump jazz, transforming the Beacon into a rollicking juke joint. His version of “When I Paint My Masterpiece,” one of only three tunes repeated from his 2019 Beacon shows, is, indeed, a masterpiece.

He plays eight of the ten tracks from Rough and Rowdy Ways, and aside from the meandering and curious “Key West (Philosopher Pirate),” they sound triumphant, from the ballad “I’ve Made Up My Mind to Give Myself to You” to the propulsive “False Prophet,” feeling right at home with “Early Roman Kings” from 2012’s Tempest and a smoking version of 1967’s “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight.” He also surprises with the relatively rare “To Be Alone with You,” from 1969’s Nashville Skyline.

For the first time in many moons, the tour, which heads to Port Chester after the Beacon gigs, has a name, after the new album, and an end date, 2024. The album title itself is a nod to Jimmie Rodgers’s and Merle Haggard’s “My Rough and Ready Ways,” in which the latter explains, “Somehow I can’t give up / My good old rambling ways / Lord, the railroad trains are calling me away.”

If only one thing is plainly evident from Friday night’s show, it’s that Dylan loves playing live, has to play live, in front of an audience. (Even his bizarre livestreamed pandemic show, Shadow Kingdom, was performed to a small, mysterious crowd, and included five of the older songs being played on this tour.) “I’ll lose my mind if you don’t come with me,” he sings in “I Contain Multitudes,” continuing, “Tell me, what’s next? What shall we do? . . . What more can I tell you? I sleep with life and death in the same bed.” With Dylan, there’s always more to be told.

YIN YUE DANCE COMPANY: RIPPLE

Yin Yue Dance Company presents gorgeous new work at 92nd St. Y and online (photo by Richard Termine)

Who: Yin Yue Dance Company
What: Streaming performance and discussion
Where: 92Y online
When: November 19-21, $15
Why: Yin Yue Dance Company’s Ripple is one of the most gorgeous works I’ve seen during the pandemic — from the comfort of my apartment, where I’ve watched hundreds over the last twenty months. The thirty-six-minute piece was filmed live in front of an audience on November 18 at Kaufmann Concert Hall as part of the 92nd St. Y’s Mainstage Series. The world premiere, featuring Kristalyn Gill, Jordan Lang, Grace Whitworth, Nat Wilson, and Yin Yue performing on a dark stage, was essentially developed over the previous five days, and the company didn’t even meet in person in full until the dress rehearsal on the day of the show, when Yin was still finalizing the choreography.

Yin Yue leads her company in streaming performance (photo by Paul B. Goode)

You wouldn’t know it from how beautifully the work flows from one section to the next, highlighted by a dramatic solo by Yin, confined to an oval spotlight, her arms alternately reaching out and cradling herself. The music ranges from romantically cinematic to a pulsating electronic score, along with some spoken text, as the dancers form duets and trios, coming together for several emotional passages, bathed occasionally in blue, then red. If you’ve been reluctant to watch dance onscreen, Ripple is a great place to start. The performance is followed by a discussion with the dancers moderated by Harkness director Taryn Kaschock Russell.

On December 6, Yin (A Trace of Inevitability, A Glimpse Inside a Shared Story) will be at the Guggenheim to receive the Harkness Promise Award along with Alethea Pace at the sixty-fourth annual 2021 Dance Magazine Awards, which will be livestreamed. The Mainstage Series continues December 16–19 with Michelle Dorrance and Dormeshia with special guests, February 24–27 with Baye & Asa and Passion Fruit Dance Company, and March 3–6 with Caleb Teicher and Conrad Tao.

KURT VONNEGUT: UNSTUCK IN TIME

Kurt Vonnegut travels through his extraordinary life in Unstuck in Time,

KURT VONNEGUT: UNSTUCK IN TIME (Robert B. Weide & Don Argott, 2021)
IFC Center
323 Sixth Ave. at West Third St.
Opens Friday, November 19
www.ifccenter.com

“I had never seen him so at ease; they had found each other, as the subject and the filmmaker. It felt like a friendship,” Nanny Vonnegut says about her father, author Kurt Vonnegut Jr., and director Robert Weide in Kurt Vonnegut: Unstuck in Time, an extraordinary documentary opening November 19 at the IFC Center.

In 1982, twenty-three-year-old Weide wrote a letter to Vonnegut, wanting to make a film about him. Much to Weide’s surprise, the award-winning author of such novels as Slaughterhouse-Five and Cat’s Cradle wrote him back, agreeing to the project. Shooting began in 1988 and continued through Vonnegut’s death in 2007 at the age of eighty-four and beyond. During those years, the two men became good friends, so much so that Weide began doubting his ability to complete the film. “I don’t even like documentaries where the filmmakers has to put himself in the film. I mean, who cares?” he asks in one of several sections where he talks to the camera, concerned that he was becoming too much a part of the story.

After a moving moment in which he discusses putting the camera down and simply enjoying his time with Vonnegut, Weide admits, “Prior to that, I had always been concerned that the friendship might infringe on the film; this was the first time I realized that things had flipped so entirely now that I was worried about the film infringing on the friendship. That was a realization for me that I was maybe in trouble.”

Fortunately, however, Weide and codirector Don Argott, who was brought in to help navigate through Weide’s fears of having grown too close to Vonnegut, keep the main focus on Vonnegut, who opens up about his childhood, his schooling, his early jobs, and, ultimately, his writing career, reflecting on a life well lived yet filled with tragedy, from the death of his sister and her husband to his mother’s suicide and his experiences in Dresden during WWII. Vonnegut is shown giving a lecture in a church, taking a train with Weide, driving through his hometown of Indianapolis, visiting the house where he grew up — and getting sentimental when he sees the casts of his and his siblings’ hands on the top of a small cement wall — and attending his sixtieth high school reunion.

Vonnegut’s brother, Bernard, gives Weide boxes and boxes of home movies and slides, while their sisters, Nanny and Edie, and Vonnegut’s nephews, Jim, Steve, and Kurt Adams — who Vonnegut and his first wife, Jane Marie Cox, took in after the deaths of his beloved sister, Alice, and her husband, James Adams — speak openly and honestly about him, including their extreme disappointment when, upon finally gaining success as a writer, he dumped the devoted Jane for younger photographer Jill Krementz. Over the years, Vonnegut kept sending Weide tapes of his numerous public appearances, so the film includes a treasure trove of clips from speeches, television appearances, and commencement addresses as well as early, annotated drafts of Vonnegut’s writing.

The film discusses the aforementioned books in addition to The Sirens of Titan, Breakfast of Champions, and Mother Night, which was turned into a 1996 movie written by Weide, and explores such favorite Vonnegut characters as the author’s alter ego, Kilgore Trout, and Billy Pilgrim. The title of the film comes from the first line of the second chapter of Slaughterhouse-Five: “Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.” The concept of time is a leitmotif of the documentary, highlighted by the comparison between the decades it took Weide to complete the film, which is significantly about the making of the film itself, and the years it took Vonnegut to finish his last novel, Timequake, which ended up being significantly about the writing of the book. And just as Vonnegut and his children share poignant memories, Weide inserts some of his own, particularly about his wife, Linda. The parallels between Weide and Vonnegut are striking. “How fucked up is that?” Weide says after noting another coincidence.

Robert B. Weide and Kurt Vonnegut became close friends while making documentary over several decades

Weide also speaks with Vonnegut’s friends and fellow writers John Irving and Sidney Offit, his publisher Dan Simon, his biographer Gregory Sumner, novelist Dan Wakefield, and In These Times editor Joel Bleifuss, who gave Vonnegut a forum in his final years. Actor Sam Waterston reads from several of Vonnegut’s works. “He made literature fun. That was huge,” critic David Ulin says.

Along the way, two elements stand out: Vonnegut’s love of laughing — his infectious laughter is sprinkled throughout the film — and his ever-present Pall Mall. In a cute touch, Emmy winner and Oscar nominee Weide (Curb Your Enthusiasm, Lenny Bruce: Swear to Tell the Truth) and Argott (The Art of the Steal, Believer) animate smoke coming out of his cigarettes in still photos.

On the first page of chapter two of Slaughterhouse-Five, Vonnegut also writes of Billy Pilgrim, “He has walked through a door in 1955 and come out another one in 1941. He has gone back through that door to find himself in 1963. He has seen his birth and death many times, he says, and pays random visits to all the events in between. He says. Billy is spastic in time, has no control over where he is going next, and the trips aren’t necessarily fun. He is in a constant state of stage fright, he says, because he never knows what part of his life he is going to have to act in next.” Weide and Argott have captured the essence of Vonnegut the person and Vonnegut the writer in Unstuck in Time, a must-see, utterly fun portrait of a man who never knew what part of his life he was going to have to act in next but always did so with a contagious sparkle.

BAD LUCK BANGING OR LOONY PORN: A SKETCH FOR A POSSIBLE FILM

Emi (Katia Pascariu) goes on a strange journey in Rade Jude’s Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn

BAD LUCK BANGING OR LOONY PORN: A SKETCH FOR A POSSIBLE FILM (BABARDEALA CU BUCLUC SAU PORNO BALAMUC) (Radu Jude, 2021)
Film at Lincoln Center, Walter Reade Theater, Francesca Beale Theater
144/165 West Sixty-Fifth St. at Amsterdam Ave.
Film Forum, 209 West Houston St.
Opens Friday, November 19
www.filmlinc.org
filmforum.org

Radu Jude’s brilliantly absurdist Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn lives up to its title, a wildly satiric takedown of social mores that redefines what is obscene. Winner of the Golden Bear for Best Film at the 2021 Berlinale, the multipart tale begins with an extremely graphic prologue, a XXX-rated homemade porn video with a woman and an unseen man holding nothing back. In the first main section, the woman, a successful teacher named Emi (Katia Pascariu), is distressed to learn that the video is threatening to go viral. She determinedly walks through the streets of Bucharest, buying flowers (which she holds upside down), discussing her dilemma with her boss, the headmistress (Claudia Ieremia), and calling her husband, Eugen, trying to get the video deleted before her meeting with angry parents at the prestigious private school where she teaches young children.

Jude and cinematographer Marius Panduru follow the masked Emi — the film was shot during the pandemic, so masks are everywhere — on her journey, the camera often lingering on the scene well after Emi has left the frame, focusing on advertising billboards, couples in the middle of conversations, people waiting for a bus, and other random actions, before finding Emi again. She sometimes fades into the background, barely seen through the windows of a passing vehicle or amid a crowd crossing at a light. She gets into an argument with a man who has parked on the sidewalk, blocking her way; she insists that he move the car, but he unleashes a stream of misogynistic curses. Swear words are prevalent throughout the film, mostly adding poignant humor.

The second segment consists of a montage of archival and new footage that details some of Romania’s recent history, involving the military, the government, religion, fascism, Nazi collaboration, patriotism, the two world wars, the 1989 revolution, Nicolae Ceaușescu, domestic violence, jokes about blondes, and the value of cinema itself. The bevy of images also points out which NSFW word is most commonly looked up in the dictionary, as well as which is second. (The film is splendidly edited by Cătălin Cristuțiu, with a fab soundtrack by Jura Ferina and Pavao Miholjević.)

It all comes together in the third section, in the school garden, where Emi faces a few dozen masked, socially distanced, very angry parents and grandparents who want her fired immediately, while the headmistress demands a calm discussion. The masked Emi is a stand-in for all of us, facing the wrath of the unruly mob forcing its sanctimonious platitudes on others when it really needs to look at itself. It’s a riotously funny sitcomlike debate in which Jude roasts many common, hypocritical beliefs held by Romanians (and people all over the world) that have not necessarily changed much from the news clips shown in the previous part.

The cartoonish cast, which includes Olimpia Mălai as Mrs. Lucia, Nicodim Ungureanu as Lt. Gheorghescu, Alexandru Potocean as Marius Buzdrugovici, and Andi Vasluianu as Mr. Otopeanu, really gets to strut its stuff while making sure their masks are properly covering their mouths and noses. They argue about beloved national poet Mihai Eminescu and Russian writer Isaac Babel, delve into various sexual positions, repeat Woody the Woodpecker’s trademark call, and quote long, intellectual passages from the internet as Jude (I Do Not Care If We Go Down in History as Barbarians, Aferim!) reveals where society’s true obscenities lie. It’s an irreverent tour de force that offers three distinct endings to put a capper on the strangely alluring affair, turning a scary mirror on the sorry state of twenty-first-century existence.

Playfully subtitled A Sketch for a Possible Film in a reference to André Malraux’s description of Eugène Delacroix’s belief that his sketches could be of the same quality as his paintings, Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn, Romania’s official Oscars submission, opens November 19 at Lincoln Center and Film Forum.

IN THE SOUTHERN BREEZE

Four Black men from different times meet in unusual circumstances in Mansa Ra’s In the Southern Breeze

IN THE SOUTHERN BREEZE
Rattlestick Playwrights Theater
224 Waverly Pl.
Wednesday – Monday through December 12, $40 in person or livestreamed
www.rattlestick.org

The central section of Mansa Ra’s In the Southern Breeze, which opened last night at Rattlestick, is a compelling fever dream in which four Black men from different time periods meet in a kind of bardo, trying to make sense of their existential situation. Unfortunately, that narrative is framed by a moralizing, didactic story involving a contemporary Black man (Allan K. Washington) literally at the end of his rope, as he considers hanging himself, suffering from severe depression because of pandemic isolation and systemic racism in America.

“It’s so stressful being black. And I don’t mean in some hypothetical way,” he says. The confinement of lockdown is also getting to him. “I honestly have no idea what’s gonna happen anymore. It’s been a while since I’ve interacted with people. Like a super long time. I was already depressed before the ’rona. Everybody was freaking out about quarantine cooped up with nowhere to go. But I was glad. I finally had a real excuse for not leaving my apartment. I know a lot about isolation. It feels like the walls are closing in around you. All day. And all night.”

While he contemplates his fate (offstage), a barefoot man in tatters enters. Madison (Charles Browning) is a runaway slave, just trying to stay alive while looking for his wife. He is soon joined by Lazarus (Victor Williams), a sharecropper who wants to know where his family is. Next, a Black Panther named Hue (Biko Eisen-Martin) arrives, calling out desperately for his wife. And finally, gay activist Tony (Travis Raeburn) shows up fresh from a protest march. As a group they represent such societal ills as racism, homophobia, injustice, inequality, and disenfranchisement, in search of their identity, separated from their wives and children as so many Black men have been throughout the history of the United States. “Unnatural fo’ a man to be taken ’way from his family. Just unnatural,” Madison says. It is critical to note that there are no women in the play; they exist on the periphery, longed-for sources of strength and ancestral continuity. Emmie Finckel’s set is a series of ever-smaller white-framed doorways on lush green grass, the promise of freedom closing fast.

In the Southern Breeze looks at loneliness, depression, racism, and isolation

Earnestly directed by Christopher D. Betts, In the Southern Breeze’s frame story ends up feeling like a cliched diatribe of platitudes lacking dramatic nuance; what the man is experiencing is horrific, something that no one should have to endure, but it comes off as more of an intense therapy session. A rant about holes, from the noose to anal sex to the planet Saturn, feels forced and unnecessary. The body of the play is powerful; Mansa Ra (fka Jiréh Breon Holder) should have more faith in his audience. For example, there is a moment near the end that could have made a memorable conclusion, but instead the narrative extends with a coda that plots out too easy a path for what is a complicated future. One of the smartest choices is to never show an actual noose, serving as a potent metaphor for what has lurked dangerously for centuries.

In her essay “Moral Inhabitants,” which influenced Mansa Ra, Nobel Prize winner Toni Morrison writes, “Our past is bleak. Our future dim. But I am not reasonable. A reasonable man adjusts to his environment. And unreasonable man does not. All progress, therefore, depends on the unreasonable man. I prefer not to adjust to my environment. I refuse the prison of ‘I’ and choose the open spaces of ‘we.’” In the Southern Breeze works best when it deals with the “we” as opposed to the “I.”

In conjunction with the seventy-five-minute play, which runs through December 12 (both at the theater and streaming live) and is presented in partnership with Black Boys Do Theater, the Boys’ Club of New York, the Eastern Group Psychotherapy Society, and the National Alliance on Mental Illness, Rattlestick is hosting a series of community talks, on November 22 at 5:00 (on Zoom, before the livestream, about safe and private spaces), November 28 at 4:00 (an in-person postshow discussion exploring the intersection of mental health and the political and social climate), and December 6 at 5:00 (on Zoom, before the livestream).

TWI-NY TALK: STEPHEN PETRONIO / PETRONIO’S PUNK PICKS AND OTHER DELIGHTS

Stephen Petronio leads an open rehearsal in preparation for La MaMa shows (photo by Paula Court)

PETRONIO’S PUNK PICKS AND OTHER DELIGHTS
La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club
The Ellen Stewart Theatre
66 East Fourth St. between Second Ave. & Bowery
November 18-21, $21-$30
212-475-7710
www.lamama.org
petron.io/event/lamama

At a recent open rehearsal streamed on Zoom, Newark-born, Manhattan-based choreographer Stephen Petronio said, “Wouldn’t it be fun to look back at some of those works from some of those smaller little gems that we love.” The result is “Petronio’s Punk Picks and Other Delights,” running November 18–21 at La MaMa. The evening consists of eleven short solos and duets, going back to 1993, set to songs by the Stranglers, the London Suede, Anohni, Nick Cave, Elvis Presley, Yoko Ono, Rufus Wainwright, and Radiohead, as well as Igor Stravinsky’s “Le Sacre Du Printemps,” performed by Larissa Asebedo, Kris Lee, Jaqlin Medlock, Tess Montoya, Tiffany Ogburn, Ryan Pliss, Nicholas Sciscione, and Mac Twining. Petronio will also present the world premiere of Johnnie Cruise Mercer’s multimedia and then we hit the boundary where the sun’s wind ceases . . . , with music by LVDF, Heliopause, and Anne Müller.

Founded in 1984, the Stephen Petronio Company was one of the busiest troupes during the pandemic. Beaming in first from their individual homes, then gathering together at the Petronio Residency Center (PRC), a 175-acre haven in the Catskills, the tight-knit company performed new pieces, hosted online galas and master classes, put on a virtual season at the Joyce, and had a public birthday party for Petronio. Over that time, Petronio kept a quarantine journal that has been published in a deluxe hardcover limited edition, In Absentia, with lavish photos by Sarah Silver and Grant Friedman. In addition, Petronio is expanding his Bloodlines program, in which he restages classic works by such choreographers as Yvonne Rainer, Merce Cunningham, Martha Graham, and Trisha Brown, to include a “futures” section that so far has featured new commissions by Davalois Fearon and Mercer.

While preparing for SPC’s debut at La MaMa, the always engaging and candid Petronio answered questions about choreographing “when the world stopped,” returning to the stage, what music is on his current playlist, and more.

Stephen Petronio released the deluxe hardcover book In Absentia during the pandemic (photo by Sarah Silver)

twi-ny: Let’s start with perhaps the most obvious question: How does it feel to be back working in theaters? At your open rehearsal following Fall for Dance, you said “it was exciting and frightening and emotional.”

stephen petronio: It’s all of those things but particularly with this body of work, it’s like finally, we can really focus in with a microscope on some of the details that are the underpinnings of what is at the center of a particular body of work and the delicious focus of what we do in the studio.

twi-ny: SPC was one of the most active companies during the pandemic lockdown. How soon after March 2020 did you decide to forge ahead at such a pace online?

sp: I decided immediately because that’s my survival instinct. My legs kept moving and I felt that to stop, we would all be overwhelmed with uncertainty and fear. I thought it best to use our physical practice to keep us grounded.

twi-ny: How important was PRC to that decision?

sp: I don’t think we would have been able to do it without PRC. First of all, I had a completely safe space to work in and I immediately began teaching classes on Zoom to the dancers just as a way of being together and then we began making on Zoom as a way of staying in touch with our practice. Then I began to realize that we could actually make stuff to show other people. I could only do that because of PRC. And then when I was able to work out the finances, I was able to bring the company up fairly regularly for a few weeks at a time across those endless months of lockdown. We also quickly realized that we could be a haven for other choreographers who could make it up to us.

twi-ny: You really took advantage of everything that Zoom has to offer. What was it like choreographing such virtual works as #GimmeShelter and Are You Lonesome Tonight that way?

sp: A complete nightmare! I hadn’t seen Zoom before the pandemic and it took me time to understand the lag time in relationship to making movement with music. And I also began to see many other people working on Zoom and some it was really fun and inventive and I was looking for a way to use the technology in a method that was true to my own work.

twi-ny: You also celebrated your sixty-fifth birthday over Zoom; did you have a good time? It was fun to watch.

sp: I had an amazing time and it was very emotional because it was such a lonely and isolated time; it was really fun to be with people in a very relaxed way.

twi-ny: You kept a journal during the pandemic that you’ve released as a deluxe book, In Absentia. What spurred you to keep that kind of diary?

sp: When the world stopped, I began to do all the things that I do that remind me of myself, remind me of my body, my thoughts, my emotional life, and so I went to writing as a natural response to check in with myself in a regular way. I did a memoir, Confessions of a Motion Addict, about ten years back and so a writing practice is not new to me and it seemed like such an important event that we were living through that I wanted to mark it in some way.

Jaqlin Medlock dances from her home during online presentation (photo courtesy Stephen Petronio Company)

twi-ny: My two favorite dancers during the lockdown were Sara Mearns and Jaqlin Medlock. (I named them Best Solo Dance Performance in the twi-ny Pandemic Awards, along with Jamar Roberts.) You have such an amazing rapport with Medlock, which was evident in your recent open rehearsal; what makes her the ideal SPC dancer?

sp: She is sharp as a razor, I’ve known her for over ten years so we’re so fluid together in terms of my thought process and language, and she’s incredibly determined to get things exactly the way she wants it. She’s a monster for details, and watching that [#GimmeShelter] solo come into focus up to the final recording was such a delight.

twi-ny: SPC performed at Fall for Dance at City Center, and next up is La MaMa. You’ve never performed there before, although I believe you’ve lived near there for a long time. What made you want to perform there this time around?

sp: I moved onto St. Marks Place in 1979 and lived there for many, many years. Normally, it’s hard for me to figure out the finances for my company’s performance in a theater of that size. My executive director, Jonas Klabin, was having drinks with the director of programming, Nicky Paraiso, of La MaMa at a performance and began to open up a discussion about it. Of course, I’ve known Nicky for years. But this is a time to do things that we really want to and let the economics fall as they may. La MaMa is such a gem of a place to perform and this is the perfect moment.

twi-ny: I love La MaMa, and I see Nicky all over town, always checking out what’s going on. “Petronio’s Punk Picks and Other Delights” consists of eleven numbers set to music by a wide range of artists. You’ve previously done an evening of songs by Nick Cave, Underland; if you could choreograph a whole album by anyone, what would it be? Is there a specific song you’d love to choreograph but haven’t been able to?

sp: Nick Cave was a highlight. I did a work to a catalog of Lou Reed songs [The Island of Misfit Toys], which was another miraculous moment in my life. I’ve been tempted to tackle Leonard Cohen’s body of work but his poetry is so dense that I’ve been hesitant. Leonard Cohen’s song “Democracy” is an anthem I’d love to have a go at!

Stephen Petronio walks down the outside of the Whitney as part of Trisha Brown retrospective (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

twi-ny: I would love to see that! What kind of music do you listen to when you’re not thinking about songs for dances?

sp: I’m listening to Bach a lot, Billie Eilish; I’m very fond of female vocalists in particular. Lana Del Rey has a new album out that’s pretty damn good. And I’m loving St. Vincent.

twi-ny: Now that you’ve embraced the virtual world, do you see the future of SPC as a hybrid one, or are you going to concentrate solely on in-person shows?

sp: I think it’s inevitable that we’re going to become hybridized. We jumped in and we’re in. But it’s so delicious to be back in front of an audience. And the shows at La MaMa are a total love letter to the people that have been following me over the years. It’s really fun to make a show that’s so much about the joy of the work that I’ve made with incredible dancers over the years and to music that I completely love. This is music that has moved me, and to pass it to this current generation of titan dancers seems just right. We’re still here!