Bohemian Rhapsody

Cinnabar Theater's brassy La Boheme sets a new tone in opera

By C.E. McAuley

For all those who still think opera is inaccessible or doesn't speak to today's world think again. Cinnabar Theater's new production of the classic La Boheme by Giacomo Puccini will blow away your expectations. And in English. The venerable theater company has been home to innumerable fine productions since the early 1970s and the tradition continues with their latest opera production which plays through Nov. 21.

With stage direction by Elly Lichenstein and musical direction by Nina Shuman the play is in expert hands. The strength of the show is, of course, the weaving together of these two aspects in the intimate setting of the Cinnabar Theater itself. Getting up close and personal with such a fine opera and such fine talent, both in terms of vocals and the orchestra itself, is a rare treat indeed.

And now onto the talent.

Will Hart Meyer (Rodolfo) and Leslie Sandefur (Mimi) can just about blow your head off with the power and brilliance of their vocals when they need to or be as subtle in their phrasing with the most intricate of vocal dynamics as possible. They make a truly impressive combination of the doomed love-at-first-sight duo in this staging placed in late 1920s Paris.

Hart Meyer and Sandefur have the benefit of a fine supporting cast with strong vocals and magnificent energy that is, perhaps, most notable in the opera's second act.

I've always respected Lichenstein and Shuman, but came to respect them even more after viewing the second act, which takes place in Cafe Momus. The staging of this sequence is extraordinarily complex and intricate, especially in the tiny theater. And while so much is happening all at once in Cafe Momus that it, at times, becomes problematic in terms of knowing exactly where to look Lichenstein and Shuman had the great boldness to enable the viewer to take in the inspired and magical chaos of such a Parisian cafe without obsessing over controlling where the viewer might place their eyes; because, ultimately, wherever the audience member looks they will be taken in by the brilliant performances of both the lead cast and the supporting cast who come and go throughout the colorful and festive sequence.

The plot of the show will resound with anyone who has ever fallen in love or hopes to and anyone who has struggled through hard times with a bold, but very human, spirit.

I heartily recommend this show to those who love La Boheme, great opera in general and expert performances. I, especially, recommend this performance to college-age audience members and those who have never had the experience of going to the opera in order to have, perhaps, the most intimate opera experience in your life in a setting that is accessible to the eyes, ears and the imagination.

For more information on this and other performances at the Cinnabar Theater visit: http://www.cinnabartheater.org/

Cucina Purgatorio

Cucina Paradiso provides dinner with unwanted attitude, but a good view of the parade of the dead.

By C.E. McAuley

"Do you have reservations?"

I never want to be asked this while preparing to dine at a restaurant in Petaluma. What I want is good food, an inviting atmosphere and friendly service. So, I don't like being asked this question by a haughty hostess at a downtown Italian restaurant in a town where I've spent most of the last 30 years, among other things, eating.

So, no, there were no reservations and it was Friday at 6 p.m. El Dia de los Muertos parade was beginning, I was preparing to review La Boheme at the Cinnabar Theater and was stopping for dinner at the renowned restaurant with a friend before the show. Now, keep in mind I was told this place came highly recommended by Dino who moved up from North Beach when he retired from eating Italian food in San Francisco; a good enough recommendation for me.

So, yes, I was a bit thrown off not simply by the question about reservations, but by the tone of her response when she was told we did not have reservations and began thinking to myself: lady, do you know how much I usually spend on dinner? You're about to miss out on the equivalent of a party of five in appetizers alone.

Somewhat put off and making the vibe obvious, the hostess walked us past the main dining area (where there were tables available), past the kitchen (where other people had their dinners being cooked), down a hallway, past the bathrooms, to a back room/alcove, and behind a large architectural feature/wall where we got a table for two.

The food better be good, I reflected.

"This must be the place where they put the bad people who don't make reservations," I said to my pal.

After being seated in this overly gentrified restaurant and looking over what I felt to be a menu far too heavy on pasta dishes and without the variety one would come to expect of an all-access Italian restaurant (all of which should have a family style feel to them, as opposed to the trying-too-hard tinge of yuppie indulgence), I ordered a simple pasta dish and my friend ordered the veal.

The service was respectful and efficient, in the sense that the kitchen might have been run by Il Duce and the staff was afraid of any missteps lest they be punished. I prefer servers to be more relaxed and chatty. Or at least servers who seem to feel less threatened in general by unseen forces.

The food was fine. That's it. It tasted like Italian food. Any other description would be redundant. But, it did not match the architecture. Or the reputation. Or the need for reservations.

And while the second dining room did fill up with happy eaters, I remained irked by the borderline hostile hostess.

The highlight of the dining experience for me was seeing my old friend Father Michael Culligan with whom I had a delightful conversation and who seemed to be enjoying himself with friends. Additionally, being seated at the very back of the restaurant, very close to the back door, we were all able to see the Dia de los Muertos parade begin down Water Street. Perhaps the hostess just wanted us to have a good view.

However, between being stuck at the back of the restaurant, the "okay" food, and the stuffy, forced, gentrified ambiance, I began to think of Cucina Paradiso more as Cucina Purgatorio and, ultimately, would not return if given a choice which, thankfully, I have.

Cucina Paradiso is located at 114 Petaluma Blvd. North. I recommend you don't make reservations and see what response you get from the hostess.

You CAN take it with you!

By C.E. McAuley

Most theater is put on like someone who doesn't know quite how to cook a steak; that is it's either underdone or overdone but never quite right. And I like steak. A lot. And I like theater, too. And I like eating steak after theater (which is exactly what I did on Friday night).

But, generally, I have some problems with theater. Mostly, it's when I'm not in complete control of the production. Example 1) The altercation I got into with the Russian director when I was playing a mute orangutan in an opera wearing a flammable monkey costume and defending the technical director (a student at the local junior college) who was forced into making lighting decisions because the Czar decided to skip the tech rehearsal. He asked me if I thought I was more capable of directing. I said "yes." The point? I've got a certain perspective on how things should be done; that is to say, on how my steak should be cooked. And for those of you who may cook for me in the future, the answer is medium.

But, a strange thing happened when I watched Sixth Street Playhouse's opening night of their new production of the stage classic "You Can't Take It With You": I enjoyed it.

No sooner did I think back to joking with the publicist Kim Taylor about getting me my press kit before I left at intermission then I found myself wanting to spend an evening or more with these magnificent characters. And, frankly, I was a bit surprised at my reaction having become such a critic over the years.

Directed by Charlie Queary and starring a top-notch ensemble cast highlighted by John Craven as Grandpa Vanderhof, Taylor Diffenderfer as Alice Sycamore and an array of fine character actors the Pulitzer Prize winning play by Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman juxtaposes a couple's love against two families (the Sycamore's eccentric, but happy and the other well off, the Kirby's) during the Great Depression. I was soon absorbed into the world of the Sycamore Family, those lovable eccentrics and the play brought me as much comfort and entertainment as it must have audiences of 70 years ago. I found myself wanting to visit the Sycamore's at their home and spend a few years with them. Not to be missed, another fine performance topping off the evening comes in the form of Elly Lichenstein as Olga, the Russian aristocrat fallen on hard, but comical times.

So, not only did I have an excellent steak after the show, but this production brought back something I thought I had lost: my belief that great theater is still possible. And that's something I CAN take with me.

A good steak doesn't need any sauce. And a good play needs nothing more than a fine director, cast, crew and theater company. Bravo, to all at the Sixth Street Playhouse. You made me believe again.

"You Can't Take It With You" runs through Oct. 25 in Santa Rosa. Tickets range from $22 to $28 with some discounts. For more information visit 6thstreetplayhouse.com or call 707-523-4185

"Not to touch the earth. . ."

Ah, my friends.

So I just received an e-mail from the San Francisco Chronicle called "our lowest price for home delivery ever." To which I replied:

"NEVER!!!"

In other news, I have had the great pleasure in appearing in a magical short film done by SSU students called VirtualU which is in the Top 10 at Campus Movie Fest and I'd like to think that my star power has something to with it, but it was extremely well put together. The plot deals with people "socializing" in cyberspace, but not knowing with whom. A very compelling topic and the idea of identity in cyberspace is, of course, something we like to discuss in my class "Cyberspace, Communication and the Digital Age." BRAVO! So go to youtube and then type in VirtualU, SSU and you can see the film.

I've also enjoyed being a guest on two, count 'em, two KSUN radio shows. . ."Cock and Mull" with Cock and Mull and "Sunday Funday" with Katie (one of the 8 devoted readers of this blog) and Erin. I hope to return to both shows at some point and see what adventures they're getting into. You can tune into "Cock and Mull" on Wednesdays at Noon to 2 p.m. and Sunday Funday on. . .Sundays from 4 to 6 p.m. on KSUNradio.com.

Enough for now. I am needed elsewhere.

Summer's Gone

Indeed, my friends, summer has come and gone. And one of my greatest fans has suggested that my summer blogging hiatus come to an end as well.

What have I been up to these past three months? Labor negotiations, furlough votes, tripping to Portland and Pacifica, writing cultural criticism for popmatters.net and a return in glory to the hallowed halls of Sonoma State University.

It's been my great pleasure so far this semester to play a pivotal role in the upcoming film short "Virtual U" and I'm looking forward to seeing the result. Strangely enough, I was also asked to play myself as a homeless man in another short film.

Perhaps it's time to trim my beard.

Or not.

One reader asks where did I get my collection of famed scarves? To this I can only answer: look closer my friend: it's the same scarf everyday. And it's my favorite.

Until we meet again, my friends, follow what the Hard Rock Cafe taught the world: Love all, Serve All.

Summertime

I'll be continuing my vacation from this blog for the summer. Imagine that. This is like an out of office message for a blog. I should write an entire entry just about that. . .when I return.

The Art of Saying No To The New York Times

So, I have been waiting for the last 15 minutes on the phone to cancel my subscription to the New York Times. They informed me in the Sunday edition they would be raising home delivery rates because of the "economy." This means that daily home delivery of the New York Times now costs nearly $800 a year.

It's free online.

So, I tried to cancel it online. Nope. I had to call in.
Then, I could not use the automated system to cancel or, as they call it, "discontinue" my subscription. So is it a discontinue I am participating in? Or a cancel? Is there really a difference? Cancel is like a divorce. Discontinue is like a "we're taking some time off and may get back together in a few months."

The automated voice on the phone is assuring me that my call is important to them and that I should hold for the next available representative. At the same time, the voice is presenting me with other options that will take me away from discontinuing my subscription.

Ah, a person!

The offered me a deal. They could lock me in at my current rate for 26 weeks. Do I want that? No. I've made up my mind. What about a Saturday/Sunday combo? No. What about suspending my account for three months? No. Do these people work for the SF Chronicle? The one good thing about the New York Times is the actually, respectfully, accept no for an answer (finally) since they are obviously proceeding from a customer service script. But, the fact that the customer service rep asked if it was about the price increase indicates to me that many people must be "discontinuing" their subscriptions to the paper at a high rate following Sunday's announcement.

Got an extra $800 a year? Subscribe to the New York Times. Otherwise, go online.

Peace out, NYT. I loved to love you and will miss your daily, tactile goodness. Now you're fully electronic.

So. I still wonder about the difference between the idea of the discontinue or the cancel as I call them. What do you think?

Either way, "discontinuing" a newspaper subscription is wonderful practice in the art of saying no.