Photo/Eric Marks
Be a smarty
Leo Bloom and Max Bialystock (Cody Hamilton and Jeffrey Bentley) are frantic after the success of Springtime For Hitler.
The Producers: The Musical I think the worst thing I can say about Truckee Meadows Community College Performing by Arts’ current production of Mel Brooks’ Jessica Santina The Producers is that it’s so faithful to its Broadway and film predecessors that it was hard to ever put them out of my mind as I watched. But is that really a bad thing, when those predecessors are the likes of Zero Mostel, Mel Brooks’ the Gene Wilder, Nathan Lane and Matthew Producers: the Broderick? Musical, produced Brooks’ classic may be a slapstick and directed by comedy, but the talent it requires is no carolyn Wray is at the tMcc Nell J. redfield joke—it’s a full three hours of belting out Performing arts tunes, performing rigorous and challengcenter, 505 keystone ing choreography and maintaining sharp ave., on april 10, 11, comedic timing, all while wearing some 16, 17 and 18 at 7:30 outlandish and uncomfortable costumes. p.m.; april 12 and 19 at 2 p.m. TMCC’s consistently well-rounded and talented performers execute all of this nearly advanced tickets: $15 general; $13 for flawlessly. students, seniors; $10 The story begins as once-luminary tMcc students Broadway producer Max Bialystock’s at the door: $17 latest show bombs. Max (Jeffrey Bentley) general, $15 seniors/ now finds himself out of money and with a students, $10 tMcc growing reputation as Broadway poison. students When Leo Bloom (Cody Hamilton), tickets available online Max’s anxiety-ridden accountant, offhandat www.showtix4u.com, edly points out a Broadway flop could or at 673-7291.
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potentially be more profitable than a hit, Max sees dollar signs and recruits Leo to embark on such a scheme. After some searching for the perfect bad script, the two find what they believe could be a true lead balloon: Springtime for Hitler, a musical written by Hitler fanatic Franz Liebkind (Cameron Shirey), who wears swastikas and talks to pigeons in his spare time. With the script lined up, next comes the perfect terrible director, Roger DeBris (Ryan Kelly), a spoiled, flamboyant gay man whose prior work has been proven to stink up theaters. Add to that an airheaded, oversexed Swedish actress named Ulla (Alexa Bernal), who barely speaks English, to head up the cast, and Max and Leo feel sure they’ve got themselves the flop of their dreams. But, as history has proven, Max Bialystock can’t spot a hit to save his life. Despite having been written in the '60s, The Producers’ meta mockery still rings true. Show business is as much about money as it ever was—probably even more so. It’s well known that Hollywood producers aren’t in the movie business at
all; they’re in the marketing business. And it’s often true that what producers think will become sure-fire hits actually bomb, while the scripts they ignore become unexpectedly successful. Part of what’s so enjoyable about The Producers is its modern-day resonance. Producer-director Carolyn Wray hit it out of the park with this cast, which is at least 30 people deep and, for the most part, solid all the way through. (OK, a few of the ensemble actors obviously didn’t know their lines, but because they’re ensemble and ruined none of the joy for me, I’m giving them a pass.) Foremost in my mind is Bentley as Max Bialystock, whose voice and mannerisms were at times so reminiscent of Nathan Lane it was startling. It’s a physically
demanding role, both because of his character’s schlubbiness and the voice that must boom steadily, and Bentley nailed it. Hamilton epitomized everything Leo Bloom should be—jittery, nervous, frail—but as his character evolved and grew confidence, this became visible in Hamilton’s demeanor, too. I’ve seen Kelly in numerous productions, but this is by far my favorite of his performances. Shirey is a hilarious Franz Liebkind; he can sell “freakishly obsessed about Hitler” purely with facial expressions. And Alexa Bernal is captivating as Ulla. She even manages to channel Lee Meredith, who performed the role in the original film. And I must mention Lane Saunders, an ensemble member who you will, I promise, find unforgettable for his remarkable dancing and many other … assets. The songs, the sets, the stunning choreography by Mig O’Hara, which includes impressive acrobatics…all of it made The Producers my favorite TMCC show ever, and one of the best locally produced musicals I’ve ever seen. Ω
Tehching Hsieh blurs the line between life and art.
Punch the clock Tehching Hsieh From April 11 of 1980 to April 11 of 1981, Tehching Hsieh punched a time clock almost every by hour on the hour for an entire year. During Josie Luciano this time, the Taiwan-born performance artist did not fall asleep or leave his studio for more than 60 minutes at a time. Three decades after this performance, University of Nevada, Reno will host Tehching Hsieh and his “One Year Performance: 1980-1981” at the Sheppard Contemporary Gallery. Only the second time on display in the U.S.—the first was at tehching hsieh will the Guggenheim in 2009—this installation be at UNr for an includes the uniform Hsieh wore day in and artist reception and day out, 8,760 photographs of the artist’s talk on april 16, 6-8 clock-in mugshots, and a 6-minute film that p.m. in the sheppard loops the photos ad infinitum. contemporary Gallery. For more information, In the film, the artist’s appearance visit www.tehching changes before the viewer’s eyes as his hsieh.com. own eyes reveal dark circles, his hair grows longer, and his expression shows signs of weariness. The photographs cover two walls and 2,821 feet of gallery space, forcing the audience to pick a face to focus on or else OPINION
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give in to the overwhelming sense of repetitive form. This experience of simultaneous focus and flow is a fitting descriptor for the act of passing time itself and exploring the limits of projected units of measurement—in Hsieh’s case, hours, days, a year. Paul Baker Prindle, director of the university’s galleries, describes the blurred line between life and art that Hsieh always seems to court. “At a basic level, his work is about just living … the way that he slows everything down and pushes the boundaries of time makes us aware of how tied we are to it.” “One Year Performance: 1980-1981” is also known as the “Time Clock Piece,” perhaps in part to differentiate it from Hsieh’s four other “One Year Performances.” His first piece in New York was made in 1978, four years after jumping ship near Philadelphia to come to the United States as an illegal immigrant. Known as the Cage Piece, it involved the
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artist locking himself inside an 11.5-by-9by-8-foot cage he built in his Tribeca loft while a friend brought him sustenance and carried out his waste. For an entire year, the artist did not read, write, talk, or leave the cage. Time Clock Piece was his second performance. Next was the year that he lived completely outside in New York, never entering a shelter of any kind including buildings, cars, or homes. After that he spent a year tethered to artist Linda Montano by an 8-foot-long rope in their “Rope Piece.” Next came the year the artist abstained from making art, followed by a
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13-year performance piece during which he made art, but did not show it until the 13-year-mark when he issued a statement that simply read, “I kept myself alive.” Since that time, Hsieh has not made any art at all. While his work is often characterized as a political statement on industrialization or capitalism, Hsieh views his art as more of a philosophical record of the passing of time. In a recent email, he wrote, “Through my works I passed time in different ways, but they are all based on one perspective: life is a life sentence, life is passing time, life is freethinking.” The artist’s decision to stop making work only adds to the mythos of a man who never set out to be an art star in the first place. When asked the reason he stopped being an artist, Hsieh simply replied, “I went back to life itself. Art has a form, but for me they are not much different—doing art and doing life are both doing time. Ω
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