Performance artists find their muse in downtrodden Detroit in Oscar-nominated documentary
SCREENING + LIVE EVENT: DETROPIA (Rachel Grady & Heidi Ewing, 2012)
Museum of the Moving Image
35th Ave. at 36th St., Astoria
Sunday, November 27, $12, 4:30
Series runs through December 23
718-777-6800 www.movingimage.us www.detropiathefilm.com
In his 1994 autobiography, Hard Stuff, former Detroit mayor Coleman Young wrote, “In the evolutionary urban order, Detroit today has always been your town tomorrow.” That’s precisely the warning that permeates Detropia, the latest documentary by director-producers Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing, who have previously teamed up on such films as The Boys of Baraka, the Oscar-nominated Jesus Camp, and the Peabody-winning 12th & Delaware. Detroit native Ewing and former private investigator Grady examine the current sad state of the once-proud city, which has seen its population plummet, unemployment skyrocket, and its infrastructure being torn away piece by piece. At one point, Mayor Dave Bing, an NBA Hall of Famer who played for the Pistons, talks about downsizing the city as a whole — but not wanting to use that exact word when revealing the plan to the people. Grady and Ewing, along with cinematographers Tony Hardmon and Craig Atkinson (who also served as a producer), follow around such fascinating characters as UAW local 22 president George McGregor, who speaks with union members and retirees and describes in detail the loss of jobs and plants; Crystal Starr, a young video blogger giving her take on the city’s myriad problems; and Tommy Stevens, a former schoolteacher who now runs the popular Raven Lounge and wonders, at an auto show, how Detroit can possibly keep up with China, especially regarding the electric car known as the Volt. In one particularly poignant scene, a group of men tear down an old Cadillac repair shop, saving the metal to resell and burning the rest to keep warm.
The film regularly cuts back to performances at the Detroit Opera House, which is struggling to stay alive, desperate to bring culture to what is quickly becoming a ghost town visited by tourists interested in gawking at the immense decay. Even a performance of Gilbert & Sullivan’s Mikado slyly references the fall of the automobile industry. The soundtrack mixes hip-hop from the Detroit-based Blair French, better known as Dial.81, along with old-time R&B and songs from experimental band Victoire, providing unique sounds to the extraordinary visuals. It’s hard not to watch the film and see Detroit as a microcosm for America, which is trying to pull itself out of a deep, dark recession that won’t seem to go away. Nominated for an Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature, Detropia is screening November 27 at 4:30 as part of the Museum of the Moving Image series “Pushing the Envelope: A Decade of Documentary at the Cinema Eye Honors,” followed by a Q&A with Grady and Ewing; the series, which celebrates the upcoming tenth annual Cinema Eye Honors awards, continues through December 23 with such other past Cinema Eye nominees and winners as Alma Har’el’s Bombay Beach, Jeff Malmberg’s Marwencol, Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Véréna Paravel’s Leviathan, and the director’s cut of Joshua Oppenheimer’s The Act of Killing. The nominees for Outstanding Achievement in Nonfiction Feature Filmmaking for the 2017 Cinema Eye Honors are Cameraperson, Fire at Sea, I Am Not Your Negro, OJ: Made in America, and Weiner; the winners will be announced at the Museum of the Moving Image on January 11.
Lynn Nottage’s SWEAT examines the dying American dream in factory towns such as Reading, Pennsylvania (photo by Joan Marcus)
Martinson Hall, the Public Theater
425 Lafayette St. at Astor P.
Extended through December 18, $95
212-539-8500 www.publictheater.org
If Hillary Clinton or anyone from the Democratic National Committee had seen Lynn Nottage’s blistering Sweat prior to election day, they might have focused more sharply on the electorate that has made Donald Trump our next president. Originally presented last year by the Oregon Shakespeare Festival as part of its “American Revolutions: the United States History Cycle” and then at Arena Stage in Washington, DC, earlier this year, Sweat is a provocative drama that intelligently and sharply deals with such issues as race, drugs, poverty, NAFTA, education, and, primarily, jobs. The story takes place in Reading, Pennsylvania, moving back and forth between 2000, as George W. Bush seeks the Republican presidential nomination, and 2008, when former best friends Chris (Khris Davis) and Jason (Will Pullen) try to get their lives back on track after eight years in prison. Most of the play is set in a local bar run by Stan (James Colby), who spent twenty-eight years working at the steel-tubing mill before an injury on the job left him with a noticeable limp. The bar regulars include three forty-something women who currently work at the factory: Chris’s mother, Cynthia (Michelle Wilson), an African American woman whose husband, Brucie (John Earl Jelks), is a drug addict who disappears for long stretches of time; Jason’s mother, Tracey (Johanna Day), a white woman and widow; and Jessie (Miriam Shor), a divorced white woman who drowns her sorrow in booze. Meanwhile, Latino bus boy Oscar (Carlo Albán) cleans up after them. In 2008, Chris and Jason’s parole officer, Evan (Lance Coadie Williams), is trying to help them, but they both may be too far gone, overwhelmed by their anger.
Jason (Will Pullen), Stan (James Colby), and Chris (Khris Davis) think about a better future in SWEAT (photo by Joan Marcus)
As rumors spread about big changes at the mill, from news that the owner’s grandson is taking over and that a high-level position is open to everyone to possible layoffs and a move to Mexico, things heat up at the bar. “I’ve been on the floor for twenty-four years,” says Cynthia, who is considering applying for the opening. Tracey responds, “Well, I got you beat by two. Started in ’seventy-four, walked in straight outta high school. First and only job. Management is for them. Not us.” The floor is the only job the women have ever had, perhaps the only decent job available to them in this working-class town, filled with immigrant families of German descent. Stan, who has heard it all before, puts it into perspective: “Give me a break. That place hasn’t changed since I walked in there in ’sixty-nine. Not a lightbulb, not one single nut or bolt. As a matter of fact it hasn’t changed much since my grandfather began working there in ’twenty. Good luck, sweetheart,” he tells Cynthia. “I don’t know him, but I can tell you that Olstead’s grandson is the same brand of asshole as all of ’em, stuffing his pockets rather than improving the floor.” But Stan also recognizes that not everything is actually the same, particularly in regard to management’s treatment of the employees. “You don’t see the young guys out there. They find it offensive to be on the floor with their Wharton MBAs,” he argues. “And the problem is they don’t wanna get their feet dirty, their diplomas soiled with sweat . . . or understand the real cost, the human cost of making their shitty product.”
Tracey (Johanna Day) and Oscar (Carlo Albán) get into a misunderstanding in SWEAT (photo by Joan Marcus)
Brooklyn-based Pulitzer Prize winner Nottage (Ruined, Meet Vera Stark) spent a lot of time in Reading, the steel and textile town that was ranked as the most impoverished city in America in 2011 and has remained in the top ten ever since, with extremely high unemployment and low education leading to a poverty rate of more than forty percent. She met with many of the struggling people there, encountering feelings of desperation, sadness, and betrayal, and turned their stories into Sweat, which continues at the Public Theater’s Martinson Hall through December 18. (Nottage has also developed the Reading Project, which seeks to use art and activism to improve the community.) “These are the conversations we should be having, and I feel like as artists we should be socially engaged, and that at times we can be strategic in the ways we engage audiences,” she told American Theatre in July 2015. Not a single word or movement is out of place in the incendiary production, which features impeccable performances by the outstanding ensemble cast, expertly directed by longtime Nottage collaborator Kate Whoriskey (How I Learned to Drive, Ruined), who maintains a fierce powder-keg pace that ultimately explodes in shocking violence on John Lee Beatty’s rotating set. As the characters’ American dream turns into a nightmare, the bar television follows Bush’s ascendancy during the 2000 primaries, but there’s only the briefest discussion of politics in the show; Sweat is not a condemnation of any one party or politician but of everything that has led to there being so many Readings throughout the United States, as evidenced by the results of the 2016 presidential election.
The state of the economy turns friends into enemies in SWEAT (photo by Joan Marcus)
“Between my new lady and Uncle Sam, money got a way of running outcha pocket. Nobody tells you that no matter how hard you work there will never be enough money to rest. It’s fact. A fact that should be taught to every child!” Chris, who wants to get out of the factory and become a teacher, tells Jason. “I kinda wanna do something a little different than my Moms and Pops. Yo, I got aspirations. There it is. And I won’t apologize,” he says, but it’s not that easy to break away in these small towns. “Dude, you ever given any thought to what you might do if this don’t work out?” Chris asks Jason, who responds, “Nah, not really. Knock on wood. I plan on retiring from the plant when I’m like fifty with a killa pension and money to burn, buy a condo in Myrtle Beach, open a Dunkin’ Donuts and live my life. Right, Stan?” As Stan can vouch, that’s not the way things generally turn out. Nottage has beautifully and honestly captured these characters’ lost dreams and desires, along with their frustrations and tenuous friendships, in a searing play about the literal and figurative shackles that bind too many Americans in this supposed land of plenty. (Be sure to pick up the four large broadsheets in the Public Theater lobby collectively called “Boom & Bust: The Rise & Fall of American Cities,” which details evolving economic situations in Butte, Montana, Silicon Valley, California, Eagle Ford Shale, Texas, and Detroit, Michigan; you can read more about it and other digital dramaturgy here.)
Alvin Ailey winter season at City Center includes company premiere of Johan Inger’s WALKING MAD (photo by Paul Kolnik)
New York City Center
130 West 56th St. between Sixth & Seventh Aves.
November 30 – December 31, $25-$150
212-581-1212 www.alvinailey.org www.nycitycenter.org
For many people, the coming of Thanksgiving signals that Christmas is not too far off. For others, like us, it means that Alvin Ailey’s annual season at City Center is right around the corner. From November 30 to December 31, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater will be at the West Fifty-Sixth Street institution, presenting three world premieres, one company premiere, four new productions, and sixteen returning favorites. Mauro Bigonzetti follows up his 2008 Ailey piece, Festa Barocca, with Deep, set to music by French-Cuban twin sisters Ibeyi. Kyle Abraham’s three-part Untitled America, the first two parts of which debuted in December 2015 and this past June, will now be seen in its entirety for the first time. Longtime Ailey dancer Hope Boykin has choreographed r-Evolution, Dream., a large ensemble work inspired by the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., with music by Ali Jackson and writings recorded by Hamilton Tony winner Leslie Odom Jr. Johan Inger reimagines Ravel’s Bolero with Walking Mad, with additional music by Arvo Pärt.
GRACE will be part of Ailey celebration of Ronald K. Brown on December 14 at City Center (photo by Paul Kolnik)
AAADT artistic director Robert Battle’s The Hunt is getting a makeover, as are Alvin Ailey’s Masekela Langage, Ulysses Dove’s Vespers, and Billy Wilson’s The Winter in Lisbon, which pays tribute to Dizzy Gillespie. The season also includes pieces by Christopher Wheeldon, Rennie Harris, Judith Jamison, Matthew Rushing, Paul Taylor, Talley Beatty, and Ronald K. Brown, who will be celebrated on December 14 with performances of Open Door, Ife / My Heart, Four Corners, and Grace. There are still tickets left for the opening-night gala ($70-$90), “An Evening of Ailey and Jazz,” with Battle’s Ella, excerpts from John Butler’s Portrait of Billie, Beatty’s The Road of the Phoebe Show, Wilson’s The Winter in Lisbon, Ailey’s For Bird – With Love and Pas de Duke, and live music and a gospel choir joining in on Revelations. On December 17 and 20, “Bold Visions” consists of r-Evolution, Dream.,Vespers, The Hunt, and Revelations, while several “All Ailey” programs consist of a mix of repertory classics. Saturday matinees are followed by a Q&A with the dancers, while the always greatly anticipated season finale takes place on New Year’s Eve.
The tender love between a young girl (Anne Wiazemsky) and a donkey lies at the heart of Robert Bresson’s AU HASARD BALTHAZAR
AU HASARD BALTHAZAR (Robert Bresson, 1966)
Metrograph
7 Ludlow St. between Canal & Hester Sts.
November 23-29
Series runs November 23 – December 2
212-660-0312 metrograph.com
Robert Bresson’s heartbreaking 1966 masterpiece, Au hasard Balthazar, is an unforgettable tale of the life and times of a most unusual yet completely ordinary donkey. As the opening credits roll, we hear writer and pianist Jean-Joël Barbier performing Franz Schubert’s Sonata No. 20, interrupted by the braying of a donkey and concluding with the sound of bells ringing. In a small rural community in France, a donkey has been born. Young Jacques and his sister baptize him and name him Balthazar, after one of the three Magi who presented the infant Jesus with gifts. Jacques and his neighbor, Marie, adore the donkey, treating him not only as their friend but their surrogate child, believing they are destined to marry. But they are torn apart by a land dispute between their fathers, and when they become teenagers, although the upstanding Jacques (Walter Green) still desires Marie (Anne Wiazemsky), she shamefully gives herself to Gérard (François Lafarge), the sinister leader of a local gang of bike-riding juvenile delinquents. Gérard abuses Marie as well as Balthazar, who soon sets off on a journey inspired by Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s The Idiot and the Stations of the Cross, going from owner to owner in a series of vignettes that also represent the seven deadly sins. His big, dark eyes appearing to understand what is happening to him, Balthazar encounters lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride but soldiers on, loved by Marie, who becomes ever-more helpless, unable and unwilling to take control of her destiny, much to the disappointment of her parents (Philippe Asselin and Nathalie Joyaut). Her sad fate seems predetermined, as does that of her beloved Balthazar, who literally and figuratively bears the heavy weight of the sins of all around him.
“Everyone who sees this film will be absolutely astonished because this film is really the world in an hour and a half,” Jean-Luc Godard famously said about Au hasard Balthazar, and that gets right to the heart of the film. (Godard went on to cast Wiazemsky in several of his movies; the two were married from 1967 to 1979.) Written and directed by Bresson (Pickpocket, Diary of a Country Priest), beautifully edited by Raymond Lamy, stunningly photographed in black-and-white by Ghislain Cloquet, and featuring primarily nonprofessional actors, Au hasard Balthazar is about young love, sacrifice, honor, family, life and death — and the very essence of humanity, most evidently seen in the form of an amazing animal. The film is rife with biblical overtones, but it is not merely citing dogma, nor is it a direct parable, instead exploring the contradictions inherent in religion. Marie is part Mother Mary, part Mary Magdalene, but mostly just a deeply troubled girl. One night Gérard and his gang beat Balthazar as Marie watches, saying nothing; the next morning, she looks up in church as he sings a Latin hymn that is bookended by the ringing of Balthazar’s bells and the chiming of the church bells.
Metrograph will host week-long fiftieth-anniversary presentation of extraordinary AU HASARD BALTHAZAR
The Book of Proverbs explains that “idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” and Bresson expands on this concept by continually focusing on hands. Sitting on a bench in the dark, Marie puts her left hand over her heart, then slowly moves it onto the bench, where another hand emerges from the shadows to gently touch hers. She runs away, but Bresson’s camera still follows her hand as it closes and then opens a door. Later, as Gérard prepares to set Balthazar’s tail on fire, a car passes by, and the camera centers on Gérard’s hands, fidgeting nervously as he worries about being caught. When the drunkard Arnold (Jean-Claude Guilbert) is questioned by the police about a murder, Bresson zooms in on three men’s hands as Arnold gives his papers to the captain (Jacques Sorbets), who gives them to an associate, who then asks for Arnold’s hands so he can take his fingerprints, as if the hands themselves are guilty, stained with sin. “Holding on to me, too?” Arnold says. And when Balthazar performs a trick at a circus, his front hooves become the primary objects of attention. Screening November 23-29 at Metrograph in celebration of its fiftieth anniversary and kicking off a ten-day, seven-film Bresson festival,Au hasard Balthazar is filled with such glorious moments, layers of meaning attached to every sound and image, a staggering cinematic achievement that amply deserves its status as one of the greatest films ever made. The Metrograph series continues through December 2 with Lancelot du Lac, Les anges du péché, Pickpocket, Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne, A Man Escaped, and The Devil, Probably; Bresson died in 1999 at the age of ninety-eight, having directed a mere thirteen films (and one short) in a legendary forty-year career.
Matsumoto (Hidetoshi Nishijima) and Sawako (Miho Kanno) are literally tied to each other in Takeshi Kitano’s DOLLS
DOLLS (DORUZU) (Takeshi Kitano, 2002) / ZATOICHI: THE BLIND SWORDSMAN
Metrograph
7 Ludlow St. between Canal & Hester Sts. Dolls: Thursday, November 24, 4:30 & 9:00 Zatoichi: Friday, November 25, 4:00 & 9:00
Series runs through November 25
212-660-0312 metrograph.com
Hardboiled action director and comic Takeshi Kitano, who is best known for such violent films as Violent Cop, Sonatine, and Boiling Point, has also made family dramas and romances as well (Kikujiro, A Scene at the Sea), and Dolls might be his most emotional, introspective picture. Dolls opens with a Bunraku puppet theater excerpt from Monzaemon Chikamatsu’s The Courier for Hell before delving into the dark story of Matsumoto (Hidetoshi Nishijima) and Sawako (Miho Kanno). Matsumoto dumps Sawako so he can marry the boss’s daughter, but when Sawako tries to kill herself and ends up in a mental hospital, Mastumoto decides to take care of the speechless, frightened shell of a woman she has become. He leads her through the seasons, tied to her by a red cord, a pair of bound beggars. Two subplots, which we’re not sure were absolutely necessary, also deal with love and loss, obsession and desire. Joe Hisaishi’s music is gorgeous, as is Katsumi Yanagijima’s cinematography. Kitano, who wrote, directed, and edited Dolls, mixes in sensational colors to balance out black-and-white tuxedos or long patches of snow: You’ll be mesmerized by the red rope, a purple-and-black butterfly, Sawako’s pink child’s toy, a glowing blue bridge, Matsumoto’s bright yellow car, a green public phone, a blue drink, twirling pinwheels, a shockingly blue umbrella, a park filled with cherry blossoms, and Yohji Yamamoto’s sparkling costumes. The film is bleak, slow-paced, and heart-tuggingly pure, a rewarding experience that will stay with you for a long time.
Takeshi Kitano wrote, coedited, directed, and stars in update of Zatoichi legend
Meanwhile, in the following year’s Zatoichi: The Blind Swordsman, Kitano took on the Zatoichi legend that was a Japanese favorite from 1962 to 1989 (starring Shintaro Katsu), updating the story of the blind swordsman, gambler, and masseuse magnificently, adding a lot of blood while staying true to the heart of this classic tale. (Zatoichi is also referenced in Kitano’s 1995 Getting Any?) Beat Takeshi, the name Kitano uses as an actor, stars as the unlikely platinum blonde superhero who shuffles across the countryside battling the bad guys and rescuing damsels in distress. The film also features Tadanobu Asano as Hattori Gennosuke, Michiyo Okusu as O-ume, and Yui Natsukawa as O-shino. This was the first period film of Kitano’s career, and one in which he combined all the elements of his previous work to create an unforgettable masterpiece, a thrilling, beautifully shot (by Katsumi Yanagishima), and wonderfully realized cinematic achievement that suffers only at the very end with a silly coda that is just way too out of place. Dolls is screening on Thanksgiving Day and Zatoichi on November 25 in the Metrograph series “Takeshi ‘Beat’ Kitano,” which continues through Friday with Hana-Bi, Sonatine, Boiling Point, and Kikujiro.
Golden Theatre
252 West 45th St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through January 8, $49 – $132 theencounterbroadway.com
Innovative British theater director and actor Simon McBurney spent nearly twenty years trying to figure out how best to adapt the story of photojournalist Loren McIntyre’s adventures in the Amazon for the stage; what he ultimately came up with is absolutely genius. In the solo show The Encounter, playing at the Golden Theatre through January 8, McBurney uses the art of storytelling itself to dramatize McIntyre’s treacherous 1969 solo trip into Amazon’s Javari Valley, where he made contact with the indigenous Mayoruna tribe. Without any physical evidence, including photographs or notebooks, McIntyre shared his tale with Romanian-American writer Petru Popescu, whose book about the journey, Amazon Beaming, came out in 1991. And McBurney, whose 1999 production of Mnemonic by his Complicite company is considered a landmark in contemporary experimental theater, also uses the barest of evidence in The Encounter, which explores time, consciousness, memory, acculturation, and humanity’s connection with nature in spectacular ways. As the audience takes their seats, McBurney is wandering around the stage, which is littered with water bottles, a box of VHS tape, a desk with several microphones and a laptop, and a central figure — an Easter Island–like binaural head that turns out to be a speaker. McBurney addresses the crowd directly, toying with the notion of whether the show has actually started yet. “My children will always be able to look back over all of these photographs and videos and see their entire lives. But of course it’s not their life, it’s a story,” McBurney says about his smartphone. “So I’m worried about them mistaking it for reality, like we all mistake stories for reality. So I feel really responsible, because as I’m capturing moments on this [phone], I’m essentially deciding what story I’m going to tell them about their past . . . and about the world. But it’s not a reality. It’s a story. Stories are how we understand life. . . . You might say that stories are what have allowed the human race to thrive.”
McBurney, who has appeared in such films as The Golden Compass, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and Mission Impossible — Rogue Nation and has adapted such other literary works as Haruki Murakami’s The Elephant Vanishes, Bruno Schulz’s The Street of Crocodiles, and John Berger’s To the Wedding, tells his story through headphones that each audience member must wear, with different sound effects and dialogue coming out of the right and left earpieces. There are also sounds that reverberate through the theater, outside of the headphones, that immerse the audience into this created world, from doors slamming shut to random muttering voices. He calls it a “technological trick,” but it’s actually a shrewd artistic device that is no mere gimmick. McBurney plays multiple roles by using microphones that change the pitch, tone, and even accent of his voice while combining live text with prerecorded snippets; among the real-life characters he portrays are McIntyre, McIntyre’s pilot, and Popescu heard alongside dialogue from such psychiatrists, scientists, and other experts as Iain McGilchrist, Steven Rose, Marcus du Sautoy, George Marshall, and Rebecca Spooner, who lend authenticity to the proceedings. Meanwhile, McIntyre claims to communicate with members of the Mayoruna, including Beam, Barnacle, Tuti, and Red Cheeks, via some kind of telepathy that echoes McBurney’s use of the headphones for the audience. Meanwhile, he is sharing the story with his seven-year-old daughter, Noma. “Dadda, who are you talking to?” she asks early on. “I’m not talking to anybody, sweetie,” he replies. “Yes, you are!” she demands. “No, I’m not. Well, I am in a way,” he answers. “But there’s nobody there!” she claims. “That’s true, there’s nobody there,” he agrees. Of course, McBurney is talking about the show itself; the only person there is him, yet, as time goes on, we feel as if we are deep in the Amazon rainforest, meeting all of these characters, trudging through the muck, and seeing the monkeys that threaten McIntyre.
For both McIntyre and McBurney, the concept of time is a critical element, photographer and performer each trying to capture and share a moment in time. “What lay behind this frenzy, Loren thought, was fear. Fear of the future. Fear of losing the past,” McBurney relates. “So unlike these people, he thought. They never think of the future, they don’t hoard or store up belongings. Time for them was an invisible companion, something comfortable and unseen like the air. For us, the civilizados, time was a possession. An increasingly more efficient machine.” Time for the Mayoruna is changeable, while the West’s obsession with time is limiting and controlling. As McBurney writes in a new foreword to Popescu’s book, “Our adamantine vision of time as an arrow, moving in a pitiless irreversible horizontal motion towards oblivion, is called into doubt. Could it be that this version of time is a fiction, a story that only exists in our common imagination? Our idea of distance, crucially the distance between one person and another, is also challenged. The notion of a ‘separate self,’ so precious to our contemporary notion of identity, is undermined to the point that it becomes, for McIntyre, utterly illusory. One self, one so-called individual consciousness, he discovers, is not necessarily separated from another by language, time, or distance. We are possibly interconnected in ways to which we are, mostly, blind in the modern world — a world in which, paradoxically, we are more connected by technology that at any time in history.”
Simon McBurney makes remarkable use of unusual props in THE ENCOUNTER (photo by Joan Marcus)
The play, which runs approximately one hundred minutes without intermission, is also very much about contact, from McIntyre meeting the Mayoruna to how each audience member experiences it individually, a solitary yet communal experience. “There were so many things here in their elemental state, why not thought, too?” McBurney asks in the show. “Why not the simplest form of human contact — mind to mind. No, for goodness sake. But then something had been ratified, because he had been given this most beautiful gift.” We have also been given a most beautiful gift, The Encounter, which is essentially transmitted mind to mind in a mesmerizing tour de force by McBurney; also deserving of major kudos are set designer Michael Levine, sound designers Gareth Fry and Pete Malkin, lighting designer Paul Anderson, and projection designer Will Duke, who all participate in this amazing feat. At the end of the show, I fully believed that I had traveled through the Amazon with McBurney and McIntyre, had seen the Mayoruna, had felt the heat and fought off the mosquitoes, had experienced the fear and loneliness McIntyre had experienced, even though it was essentially all just McBurney getting inside my head and manipulating, and freeing, my mind. “To accept that our ability to hear, to listen to each other, is perhaps essential for our collective survival,” McBurney also writes in his foreword to Amazon Beaming. “These thoughts are urgent because, in order to survive, we need to acknowledge that there is another way of seeing the world and our place in it.” That could not be more true, today more than ever.
After Alonzo Chappel, “Hamilton at Yorktown in 1781,” steel engraving (New York: Johnson, Fry, and Co., 1858. NYPL, Picture Collection)
New York Public Library
Stephen A. Schwarzman Building
Sue and Edgar Wachenheim III Gallery
476 Fifth Ave. at 41st St.
Daily through December 31, free
917-275-6975 www.nypl.org
So what would Alexander Hamilton himself have thought about the controversy surrounding the cast of Hamilton confronting incoming vice president Mike Pence during the curtain call at a recent performance of the hit musical at the Richard Rodgers Theatre on Broadway? It’s hard to know, as the current New York Public Library exhibit “Alexander Hamilton: Striver, Statesman, Scoundrel” reveals. Consisting of a densely packed amount of materials gathered from the library’s holdings, the exhibition focuses on the unpredictability of the Founding Father and his ever-evolving views as the new nation set its course. “Hamilton was at best a complicated hero and, at worst, an admirable scourge,” the wall text explains, pointing out several of Hamilton’s seemingly inconsistent beliefs involving states’ rights, finance, slavery, support of France, and the Constitution itself. “Alexander Hamilton: Striver, Statesman, Scoundrel” features letters, books, illustrations, and official documents from throughout Hamilton’s life and career, following him from Nevis-born orphaned immigrant to secretary of the Treasury to his death in a duel against political rival Aaron Burr. Among the books and papers on view are Hamilton’s “Plan of a Constitution for America,” his original draft of President George Washington’s Farewell Address alongside the final version, various pamphlets he published, newspaper articles he cowrote under pseudonyms, and a copy of The Federalist: A Collection of Essays, Written in Favour of the New Constitution, by Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay. There are also engravings of Hamilton Grange, a look at his relationship with his wife, Eliza Schuyler, and her powerful family, and a wall mural of Hamilton and Burr dueling. There’s a lot to read and the room is very dark, so bring reading glasses if you have them. “How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a / Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten / Spot in the Caribbean by providence, impoverished, in squalor / Grow up to be a hero and a scholar?” Burr asks at the beginning of the Broadway musical. “Alexander Hamilton: Striver, Statesman, Scoundrel” provides a fascinating, if brief, investigation into that very question.