Review: A Memory of Two Mondays (Eclipse Theatre)

Attention Must Be Paid—to the Monday Blues

If I stress the various facets of unhappiness, it is because I believe unhappiness should be studied very carefully . . . This certainly is no time for anyone to pretend to be happy, or to put his unhappiness away in the dark. You must watch your universe as it cracks above your head.

Paul Bowles

Eclipse Theatre's "A Memory of Two Monday" is now playing at the Greenhouse Theater Center through October 17th

   
Eclipse Theatre presents
   
A Memory of Two Mondays
   
Written by Arthur Miller
Directed by
Steven Fedoruk
Greenhouse Theater Center, 2257 N. Lincoln (map)
through October 17  |  tickets: $25  |  more info 

Reviewed by Paige Listerud

A Memory of Two Mondays is Arthur Miller’s one-act dirge to the boulevard of broken American dreams. Don’t go to Eclipse Theatre’s production at the Greenhouse Theater Center without reflecting on the rainy days and Monday morning workdays that always get you down. Set in the Great Depression of Miller’s youth, one observes this play’s dysfunctional workplace, set in an automobile parts warehouse, in the complete knowledge that these are the lucky ones. These people have jobs. As dead- end as those jobs may be, as crappy the conditions, and as ineffectual as the Eclipse Theatre's "A Memory of Two Monday" is now playing at the Greenhouse Theater Center through October 17thmanagement is under a callous boss, a dead-end job is still better than the joblessness that leads one to Hooverville or to standing in bread lines.

Director Steven Fedoruk’s cast sails through the impressionist style of Miller’s script. What a good thing his slight-of-hand control is, since this particular workplace borders on the madhouse. Seen through the eyes of Bert (Brandon Ruiter), a hopeful young man saving up for his college education, all the habits, experiences, idiosyncrasies and neuroses of his co-workers at first seem funny, fascinating, interesting, bizarre or clownish. But soon it becomes clear that the daily grind of meaningless work, rotten conditions, poverty wages, and no real future is getting to everyone.

On top of that, let’s just say the management style for this workplace is extremely loose. Raymond (Kevin Scott) has absolutely no say in who gets hired or fired. Even a raging alcoholic like Tom (Malcolm Callan), who has to be propped up, catatonic, at his desk until he revives, gets a second chance. Meanwhile, the razor-sharp Larry (Josh Venditti), who knows the location of every part in the shop, languishes bitterly without promotion. Those critical decisions remain the province of Mr. Eagle (Joel Reitsma), the absentee business owner. Heaven only knows where he goes golfing while his workers run amok and his business’s infrastructure, slowly but surely, crumbles into dust.

Beyond the insanity of Bert’s work situation, we witness the terrible loss of time, of one’s dreams, one’s mind, and one’s life in this terrible place. For the workers, decades go by in which nothing changes. It’s as if drudgery and inertia have the hypnotic power to hold everyone under a spell. Kenneth (J.P. Pierson), newly arrived from Ireland, is full of poetry, song and culture when Bert first makes friends with him at the warehouse. But through mindless work, hopelessness and the pervasive materialism of American culture he loses it all, like sand draining away.

Eclipse Theatre's "A Memory of Two Monday" is now playing at the Greenhouse Theater Center through October 17th Eclipse Theatre's "A Memory of Two Monday" is now playing at the Greenhouse Theater Center through October 17th

One could write off each and every one of these characters as losers but Miller won’t allow it. A Memory of Two Mondays is not a great Miller work. It’s a one-act trying to do too much in a small space of time with recurrent Miller themes. It carries potent echoes of Death of a Salesman. “I don’t get it,” mourns Bert, on the verge of leaving for college, “How is it me that gets out? There ought to be a statue in the park. To all the ones that stayed.” Attention must be paid.

Attention must be paid but not to the young hero who leaves for a brighter future. That’s the Billy Elliot story. No. Attention must be paid to those who slog on against horrible odds, whose future is unglamorous, and whose work will never win them a spot in the limelight or public honor. Attention must be paid to people whose work is more essential to building a nation than a politician’s career or a pop star’s brief fame.

Miller’s watchful eye is always on the fear, the desperation, and the blighted potential that are the dark side of the American Dream. But more often than not he watches, not with an eye of criticism, but with an eye of compassion.

   
   
Rating: ★★★
   
   
     

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REVIEW: Living Newspapers Festival (Jackalope Theatre)

A Lot of Wit, a Bit of Melodrama, a Dash of Epic, and a Big Slice of Apple Pie

 Living Newspapers - John Milewshi - phot by Ryan Bourque

Jackalope Theatre and Silent Theatre Company presents:

Living Newspapers Festival

Devised by Kaiser Ahmed, Gus Menary, Andrew Buden Swanson and Jon Cohen
Written by Andrew Burden Swanson, Paul Amandes, Matt Welton, Cassandra Rose
through January 30th (more info)

review by Paige Listerud

Inspired by the Federal Theatre Project, a program that put starving dramatic artists back to work under FDR’s Works Progress Administration, Jackalope Theatre revives the Living Newspaper, a style of documentary theater based on current events pulled straight from newspaper articles. The Living Newspaper of the New Deal was controversial for its time, originating from multimedia theatrical experiments of the Bolshevik Revolution and the Epic Theater style of Bertolt Brecht and Erwin Piscator. Basing its drama on social and political issues, often told from a liberal/leftist point of view, the Living Newspaper drew fire from conservatives in Congress, which shut it down in 1939 after an investigation by the House Un-American Activities Committee.

Living Newspapers - AJ Ware - photo by Ryan Bourque So it is that the five plays of the Living Newspapers Festival exhibit social commentary that is melodramatic, wildly satirical, a little agitprop, often surreal in its risk-taking but also laced with flourishes of old-school American patriotism. Both buoyant, youthful energy and casual professionalism sustain the production’s even tone and fully embodied concentration. The affable and rough-hewn presence of host Eric Prather rounds out Jackalope’s production with fresh accessibility—and a bit of corn, too.

Of all the plays, The Death of Print, by Andrew Burden Swanson, comes closest to old-fashioned social melodrama. Based on the closing of Ann Arbor’s local newspaper, the small town newsmen of St. Anne’s must also compete in a dwindling economy against the advance of new media technology. Reporter Jake Gallagher (Swanson) rails against the loss of a local voice and the mercenary media takeover that will never serve the older townspeople of St. Anne. But who knows if he, too, will need to use the Internet in pursuit of reviving St. Anne’s local paper. Without acknowledging any need to shift with the times, the preachiness of Swanson’s work undercuts its realism, even if Charles Murray (Jack McCabe), his news editor, adds the depth of camaraderie to their relationship and Jake’s post-partum wife Agnes (AJ Ware) contributes needed tempering to his quixotic character.

Trouble Shoot, by Paul Amandes, wanders into surreal territory while addressing the escalating suicide rate of our currently deployed military and the unwritten policy of the President not sending letters of condolence to the families of these suicides, as opposed to other deaths at the front. Worn out by multiple tours, Chance (Pat Whalen) is ready to eat his M4, personified as a death-dealing military dominatrix by Candice Gregg—weird, but maybe only just as weird as Dad (Bill Hyland) expecting the government’s little symbolic gestures to make his son’s death alright. For her part, Mom (Kristin Collins) also has an unhealthy fascination with Chance’s gun and expects the military to track it down and ship it to her so that she can destroy it. In the midst of hurts that won’t heal, the question, “Would a letter from the President have made this so much better?” hangs over the whole piece.

The riot of the evening is Night of the Gators by Matt Welton. A small town in Louisiana becomes terrorized when greedy gator farmers manipulate their alligators’ genetics and reproductive capacity, leading to an explosion in hybrid human-gators that prey on human flesh. “It’s Arma-shit-hill-geddon out there,” cries Bobby (Danny Martinez) barely making it safely home. “We should not have played God with those creatures of God!” Only minutes later do we discover this is a propaganda piece by PETA, once the PETA Activist (Daisica Smith) strides onto stage and leads the audience, gospel-revival style. But equal time is given to the other side, which is more than any news organization will do these days for the public good. Joel Reitsma’s Politician is so fabulously greasy he could consider running for office. Of course, we learn the terrible consequences of not running gator farms—to hilarious effect.

There’s a magnificent poetry to Cassandra Rose’s Washington in Winter. All funding has been cut for the historical re-enactment of George Washington’s famous crossing of the Delaware to defeat the Hessians at Trenton. One father, playing George Washington (John Milewski) remains humorously undaunted in the face of cold, cut funds, reluctant adolescent troops (his children), and interrupting cell phones. But the evening also reveals “Washington’s” terrible vulnerability. At the end, Lucy Hancock, as the daughter playing Private Wesson, delivers Thomas Paines’ words so profoundly, no doubt remains whatsoever why they should be imprinted upon our lives forever.

Living Newspapers - Eric Prather - photo by Ryan Bourque The Silent Theatre Company delivers Slice of Americana, a day in the life of miners deep underground; which they do without words and in almost total darkness, the lamps on their protective helmets serving as the only sources of light until spotlight is used to heighten moments of fantasy. One could almost call this Norman Rockwell Underground, although it’s not likely Rockwell would depict a budding romance between two of the men. While the fantasy sequences may be of the lightest sort, we become so involved in their daily work in darkness that by the time one miner bursts into singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” its spontaneity is unquestionable. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any drama go so boldly for male pride and patriotism but Silent Theatre succeeds in making it an authentic moment.

The Living Newspaper Festival only lasts this weekend, but producer Kaiser Ahmed wants to make it a quarterly happening. Their display in The Artistic Home’s lobby goes into greater depth on the history of the Federal Theatre Project. Dramaturg Jon Cohen remarked on the similarities between now and then in the right’s targeting of arts’ funding. Try to catch this before it closes. The energy alone will give you hope for the future—for preserving current and relevant dramatic art, the 1st Amendment, and the nation–and the fun in doing it.

 

Rating: ★★★

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