Arts&Leisure
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2014
THEATER | MUSIC | FILM | DANCE | TELEVISION | ART
20 POP 14 FILM 16 FILM Exotic cinema from that other Georgia. A rare bond in the coal fields of Wales. Brooding with Perfume Genius. BY WILLIAM VAN METER BY J. HOBERMAN BY PATRICK HEALY
6 THEATER Scenes from a provocateur. BY ERIK PIEPENBURG
Art Man of Alcatraz The Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei is taking his vision to one of the most infamous prisons, using it as an inspiration for a monumental installation. By JORI FINKLEL SAN FRANCISCO — Judging from the large bags of colorful Legos on the floor and dozens of plastic base plates piled on tables, this room could have been the activities station for a well-funded summer camp. And the five women and men drifting in and out, slicing open boxes and rooting around for the right size toy bricks, were young enough to pass as camp counselors. Only the place where they were working is the opposite of summer camp: Alcatraz, the notoriously bleak military prison turned maximum-security penitentiary turned national park. With its banks of small windows and a “gun gallery” for surveillance, this building is where inmates once laundered military uniforms. It’s usually off limits to tourists. An assistant helps with Ai Weiwei’s artwork “trace,” protraits of prisoners made of Legos; at right, Memetjan Abdula, who is Chinese, is an ethnic Uighur editor sentenced to life in prison. P H OTO G R A P H S BY T H O R S W I F T FO R T H E N E W YO R K T I M E S
But starting on September 27, visitors will be able to see for themselves, spread across the floor, where so many Legos were heading: an ambitious installation by the Chinese artist Ai Weiwei, featuring 176 portraits of prisoners of conscience and political exiles around the world — from the South African leader Nelson Mandela and the Tibetan pop singer Lolo to the American whistleblower Edward Snowden — composed of 1.2 million Lego pieces. The work is part of an exhibition called “Large: Ai Weiwei on Alcatraz,” organized by For-Site, a producer of public art in San Francisco, in the prison hospital, A Block cells, dining hall and that former laundry building. Given Mr. Ai’s sharp critiques of the Chinese government and the tireless campaigning for freedom of expression that led to his own imprisonment in 2011, he could have included himself in the
group portrait. He did not. But his 81-day detainment, a numbing and mostly solitary confinement, fueled some of the exhibition’s themes, and the seizure of his passport at that time — it was never returned — has shaped the making of this show. “Even now, I am still in a soft detention, my passport withheld by the state and my right to move freely across borders restricted,” he explained in a series of lengthy email exchanges. His situation makes the “@Large” title seem wishful, if not ironic, and raises questions both practical and philosophical. How exactly did this outspoken artist manage to realize this site-specific exhibition without ever visiting the site and despite an ever-present risk of reincarceration? And to what extent are installations like this — which required more than 100 volunteers in San Francisco and For-Site staffers on Alcatraz Island helping
with assembly, as well as Amnesty International contributing research — truly Mr. Ai’s work? Certainly, the monumental Lego installation, “Trace,” has his fingerprints all over it. A few celebrity freedom fighters aside, most of the portraits showcase figures “forgotten by society,” he said. One is Shin Suk-ja, a South Korean prisoner
of North Korea who was sent into penal labor with her two daughters in 1987 after her husband defected to Europe. Ms. Shin appears to have died in captivity, according to an information binder provided by For -Site, San Francisco prcpublic art, in the prison hospital, A Block cells, dining hall and C O N T I N U ED O N PAG E 2 3
A Ruckus Offstage, Then On
Wrought In Their Creator’s Image
Season rescued, the Met turns to an Oddly resonant ‘Figaro.’ By ZACHARY WOOLFE
Shonda Rhimes has a new TV heroine. Watch out.
The great comedy of Mozart “Le Nozze di Figaro,” which opens the Metropolitan Opera’s season on Monday, begins with hopefulness, dissolves into chaotic upheaval and, rescued at the last minute, concludes with reconciliation, peace and celebration. It is a plot arc that could serve as a handy history of the new productio itself. Staged by the British theater veteran Richard Eyre, who recently directed
By ALESSANDRA STANLEY
C O N T I N U ED O N PAG E 1 2 J O U S UA B R I G H T
Viola Davis in “How to Get Away With Murder”
ABC / CRAIG SJODIN
When Shonda Rhimes writes her autobiography, it should be called “How to Get Away With Being an Angry Black Woman.” On Thursday, Ms. Rhimes will introduce “How to Get Away With Murder,” yet another network series from her production company to showcase a powerful, intimidating black woman. This one is Annalise Keating, a fearsome criminal defense lawyer and law professor played by Viola Davis. And that clinches it: Ms. Rhimes, who wrought Olivia Pope on “Scandal” and Dr. Miranda Bailey on “Grey’s Anatomy,” has done more to reset the image of African-American women on television than anyone since Oprah Winfrey. Ms. Rhimes didn’t just construct a series around
one African-American woman. She has introduced a set of heroines who flout ingrained television conventions and preconceived notions about the depiction of diversity. Her women are authority figures with sharp minds and potent libidos who are respected, even haughty members of the ruling elite, not maids or nurses or office workers. Be it Kerry Washington on “Scandal” or Chandra Wilson on “Grey’s Anatomy,” they can and do get angry. One of the more volcanic meltdowns in soap opera history was Olivia’s “Earn me” rant on “Scandal.” Ms. Rhimes has embraced the trite but persistent caricature of the Angry Black Woman, recast it in her own image and made it enviable.
She has almost single-handedly trampled a taboo even Michelle Obama couldn’t break. Her heroines are not at all like the bossy, sassy, salt-of-the-earth working-class women who have been scolding and uh-uh-ing on screen ever since Esther Rolle played Florida, the maid on “Maude.” They certainly are not as benign and reassuring as Clair Huxtable, the serene, elegant wife, mother and dedicated lawyer on “The Cosby Show.” In 2008, commentators as different as the comedian Bill Cosby and the Republican strategist Karl Rove agreed that it was the shining, if fictional, example of the Huxtables that prepared America for a black president and first lady. C O N T I N U ED O N PAG E 18