A colorful Black Rider

I haven't been blogging lately because I am in the final weeks of rehearsal for The Hothouse, the Harold Pinter play I am directing. The last couple days have been major set-building days, laying down the turntable that will spin our wondrous set around. Think screw guns and casters. Then think about them again. And again. And again. Well, you get the idea. All is going wonderfully, though, just keeping me going nonstop.

I wanted to mention that I saw Robert Wilson's The Black Rider last week at the Ahmanson Theatre. The Waco-born Wilson has been stirring things up for 30 years in the avant-garde theater world. He is more readily embraced in Europe, particularly Germany, than in his home country. I saw his one-man deconstruction of Hamlet in New York in the '90s and enjoyed it very much but recognized that it was completely inaccessible to someone who didn't already know Shakespeare's play pretty well.

The Black Rider is a massive, sumptuous visual feast. Based on German folklore, it is basically the age-old story of the simple guy who makes a pact with the devil. When will simple guys learn they never win this one? Desk clerk Wilhelm wants to impress his future father-in-law with his shooting skills (which he doesn't possess), so he makes a deal with "Pegleg" (the devil) for magic bullets. With a text by William S. Burroughs (yes, the Naked Lunch guy) and music by Tom Waits (yes ... him), the show has a fantastic foundation. Wilson's typically outrageous if sometimes infuriatingly slow moving staging is usually a wonder to behold. Sure, there are times of indulgence. Excess. Inaccessibility. But the way he paints with light and color and what he can create with simple shapes and forms in terms of set design is just incredible.

Ahmanson subsribers sitting around me were horrified: "What is this?" "Am I missing something?" "Is it intermission yet?" I didn't always disagree with them, but I tried to allow myself to let go a little more and surrender to the artistry of the piece. When all othe grumbling folks left at intermission [quite a percentage, actually], the remaining crowd breathed a collective, palpable sigh of relief, and enjoyed the second act untroubled by their neighbors' discontent.

It should be said that Matt McGrath as Wilhelm was exceptional. Such precision of movement, such vocal control. In fact, almost all of the performers were wonderful. This isn't the kind of theater I necessarily enjoy creating, but I can certainly appreciate watching others do so.

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