Nazareth College Arts Center: Critics' Blog

On Strings Attached

         by Sofia Tokar

Do you remember the first time you saw a Pixar animated short? It may have been Luxo Jr. (the little lamp), Geri’s Game (the old man playing chess), For the Birds (my personal favorite), or one of many others. Regardless, those few minutes of animated storytelling manage to evoke joy, pathos, laughter, sympathy, delight—and sometimes all of the above.

Simple Gifts, a collection of vignettes featuring the Cashore Marionettes, is like a puppet version of those Pixar shorts. If I hadn’t seen the show, I would be tempted to call it low-tech; in fact, it is anything but. Joseph Cashore’s handmade marionettes—puppets controlled from above by strings—are sophisticated works of art in action. The puppet master plucks a series of strings to bend a wrist, flick a tail, or wiggle baby feet, and each movement brings the wooden, wire, and papier-mâché figures to life.

Also like Pixar shorts, these stories are suitable for adults as well as children. Some might argue that select topics are too serious for children (for example, Old Mike in “No Address” presents a meditation on homelessness), but I think that’s not giving kids these days enough credit. Most of the scenes are sweet and poignant celebrations of the simple pleasures and moments in this life—a mother putting her baby to bed for the night, a caveman discovering fire, a boy playing with his kite.

My favorite was “A Pastoral,” featuring Cyclone the horse, the only quadrupedal marionette in this show. Set to Beethoven’s “Symphony No. 6 in F Major,” Cyclone releases himself from his corral to explore the wider world, only to be teased by a butterfly.

The simplicity of the story belies the technical complexities at work. Cyclone, made in the mid-1980s, has more than 40 individual strings, which Cashore uses to animate the equine. You’d be surprised how much insight into a horse’s emotional state you can glean from just the movement of his ears and the clippity-clop of his hooves—the same way a little garbage collecting robot comes alive with only movement and robotic sounds in WALL-E.

I believe it was Paulo Coelho who once said, “The simple things are also the most extraordinary things, and only the wise can see them.” I respectfully disagree. Thanks to the Arts Center, everyone in the audience (wise or not) for the Cashore Marionette’s Simple Gifts was able to experience something at once simple and extraordinary. And that is a real gift.

Rhythm Is a Dancer (But This Reviewer Is Not)

         by Sofia Tokar

For a briefly dyslexic moment, I thought I agreed to attend a northern Chicago-based Riverdance performance. Mercifully, that was not the case. Instead, River North Dance Chicago restored my faith in the medium of dance—a medium that I have long struggled to understand. Psychoanalysts would argue that I have dance envy, seeing as my repertoire is limited to the Two-Finger Point, the Twist, and the Macarena. (They’re probably right.) Who, therefore, am I to judge? Yet judge I must.

The performance started unevenly, for me at least. The first work was, inexplicably, The Good Goodbyes and did not bode well. One of the dancers seemed to be about a quarter-beat off from the others, which is more distracting than you would think. This set also featured what appeared to be an ode to male Siamese twins. “One of the female performers must be sick,” I whispered to my mom. “This is the ‘90s. Get with it,” she replied.

But the second set more than made up for the first. Beat featured a lone dancer’s high-brow version of Magic Mike. Jokes aside, Ahmad Simmons was amazing. I didn’t realize human bodies could do what his did, and that’s coming from someone who has seen Cirque du Soleil three times. The tango set was duly impressive as was the elastic and ever-expanding shirt used in the finale. Where, pray tell, can I buy this miracle fabric, so that I may indulge my love of donuts without having to replace my entire wardrobe?

The pièce de résistance, however, was Renatus, Latin for “rebirth,” which featured “a single female dancer… as she partners a magnificent red gown.” How, exactly, does one partner an inanimate piece of cloth? Words cannot do justice to Jessica Wolfrum’s skill, precision, and expertise in bringing that fabric to life. Her dancing was mesmerizing, stunning, haunting, eerie, beautiful, and even occasionally grotesque (à la the creepy girl from The Ring). Meanwhile, the music ingeniously recalled paradise lost—with birds chirping, a primal drum beating—before segueing into Puccini’s “Vissi d’Arte.”

This is dance at its finest—art and entertainment. I’ll probably never advance much beyond the Cha Cha Slide myself, but I still marvel at the elegance and sublimity of River North Dance Chicago. Brava, RNDC! It was an honor and a privilege to see you in action.

Review of Mermaid Theatre of Nova Scotia - Guess How Much I Love You

        By Glenn McCarty (originally posted at KidsOutandAbout.com)

Nazareth College Arts Center recently welcomed the puppet troupe from the celebrated Mermaid Theatre of Nova Scotia for a 50-minute presentation of both Anita Jeram’s I Love My Little Storybook and Sam McBratney’s Guess How Much I Love You. Both the show length and subject matter were perfect for little ones. In fact, the audience was primarily composed of pre-school or primary school-age children who were captivated from the moment the lights dimmed.

The Mermaid Theatre’s puppets aren’t of the traditional hand-in-a-sock variety, or even marionette-style. The puppets are generally full-size, hand-crafted primarily from foam and wood, and are operated by black-clad puppeteers who whisk them around the stage from scene to scene, moving heads and limbs with care and dexterity.

While at first, actually seeing the performers on stage detracts a bit from the magic of the performance, after a few minutes, the skill and grace with which the puppeteers embody their characters allows the performers to become nearly invisible. Then, the charm of the stories takes over.

And these are both charming stories. Jeram’s I Love My Little Storybook is an ode to the power of stories to carry readers away into worlds of adventure and magic. This was accomplished memorably on stage through characters like the gentle, white storybook rabbit, a galloping elephant, an ogre, and a lion.

And Sam McBratney’s beloved Guess How Much I Love You – the story of Little Nutbrown Hare and Big Nutbrown Hare’s bedtime Q&A session – is only enhanced by the puppet treatment. Watching the two rabbits hang out on a rail fence and perform tricks like handstands makes the magic of the story come alive. 

A post-show question and answer time allows kids one more chance to see their favorite puppets, and reveals some of the magic behind the performance. Mostly, though, it just furthers the sense of delight in the show.

The Mermaid Theatre’s touring productions of classic children’s books from the likes of Eric Carle and others have captivated for over 40 years. Every minute of the performances oozes childlike wonder and charm, sure to linger in the minds of young audiences for years.

Highland Hymns and Other Bonnie Things

         by Sofia Tokar

Full disclosure: I love the British in general, and the Scottish in particular. My alma mater remains steeped in Scottish tradition, and my year studying abroad in Edinburgh ingrained in me a lifelong love of haggis, sticky pudding, neeps and tatties, ceilidhs, brogues, Highlands, Lowlands, tea, and, yes, bagpipes.

My boyfriend’s theory about British colonization is that the English took to the seas in order to escape the notoriously bad food and the infamous sound of bagpipes. The bagpipes’ blares ceased around South Africa, but the search for edible food pushed them on to India and China. I, on the other hand, actively seek out the haunting sounds of those pipes (though beans on toast I’ll never understand).

When I learned that the Royal Regiments of Scotland—specifically the Band of the Scots Guards and the Pipes and Drums of the Black Watch 3rd Battalion—would be playing at the Arts Center, I danced a reel all the way to the box office for tickets.

From the kilts and bearskins to the musical selections and highland dancers (more on them later), the show was, in a word, fantastic. The stage could barely contain all of that glorious pomp and circumstance. And let’s face it: A marching band is always better with bagpipes.

I recall many an Edinburgh busker making his living playing the bagpipes on the Royal Mile. Professional opportunities for bagpipers are probably limited, even in Scotland. One option is playing for the royal regiments, except that it’s an intimidating amount of work. I can barely walk and talk at the same time. Meanwhile, the regiments perform amazing music set to precisely timed marching routines all while wearing traditional garb.

The evening’s playlist included national anthems, marching band favorites, bagpipe classics, the regimental version of a dance-off (a.k.a. the competition set), as well as a megamix. And you all know how I feel about megamixes (they’re the best—see “Jock Jams” on YouTube).

My one critique? Not enough Highland dancers. They appeared on stage only thrice—and from where I was sitting, I can’t vouch for what they were (or weren’t) wearing underneath their kilts. Nevertheless, major kudos to the Arts Center for bringing a little taste of the British Isles to Rochester, N.Y. Keep up the good work and, as we used to say at Queen’s University, cha gheill!