The art of performance: Dynamic theater troupe takes hold of epic ideas

Spectacle, experimental, physical, traditional. These are the various theatrical forms that actor and mask designer Kali Quinn, co-founder of GUTWorks Theater, recently used to describe the company's highly acclaimed stage production, "This is the Place of Parting," which will be performed throughout Windham County starting Aug. 29 at the Bellows Falls Opera House.

Written by Neil Knox and directed by Daniel Burmester, the play is an amalgam of diverse sensibilities and methodologies, tackling everything from fear and death to joy and renewal or, as Quinn puts it, "It's 'Lord of the Rings' meets 'The Wizard of Oz' meets 'The Matrix'."

Examining challenges familiar to everyone, such as grief, guilt, faith and loss of love, the storyline revolves around the experience of an author, played by Joe Raik, who wrestles with issues of his own mortality while writing about the end of the world.

Derived from the Latin "terminus est" — which literally translates to "ending is"— "This is the Place of Parting" is a bold, multidimensional journey that addresses universal themes in the human experience through acting, movement, puppets, music and imagery. According to Quinn, who formed GUTWorks in New York City two years ago with Burmester and actor Jonathan Maloney before moving it to Southern Vermont earlier this year, the play is inclusive, innovative and versatile.

"It reaches a broad audience," she says, "and gives every audience member a way in, whether you like rock music, traditional theater or if you enjoy visual art. There are photos on a screen, fabrics that become oceans, a huge lion puppet, a live band and recycled materials where a trunk becomes a desk, a box in a scientific experiment, and then a pulpit from which someone gives a sermon, so it's a visceral experience."

Within the narrative arc of the play, scale serves as a prominent device. "The play involves heightened characters, make-up and costumes," offers Quinn, "with a larger than life lion, zookeeper and priest playing out an epic story, all coming together, fighting to overcome this preacher."

As she told me more about the expansive nature of the show, with its multitude of elements, including poetic text, film, dance, local instrumental trio Amargosa, handmade masks and props that are put to multiple use, it all started sounding like more than simply theater. I found myself thinking of heroic multimedia extravaganzas by Laurie Anderson, Meredith Monk, Robert Ashley and Rachel Rosenthal, whose work pushes beyond even experimental theater into that once-controversial yet now often venerated realm of "performance art."

Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines performance art as "a nontraditional art form often with political or topical themes that typically features a live presentation to an audience ... and draws on such arts as acting, poetry, music, dance or painting."

Though Quinn considers "This is the Place of Parting" to fit squarely under the aegis of theater, the creative courage of the piece and the collective expertise of its players push it beyond those parameters. A dozen accomplished actors, writers, techies, choreographers and theatrical artists bring an astounding range of professional experience to the stage, from Dell'Arte International, the Shakespeare Theater of D.C. and classical ballet training to photography, multimedia design and circus arts, placing GUTWorks in the domain of great performance art, in its purest, most delightfully unconventional and omni-sensorial form.

I suppose it's a case of semantics, but as someone who's always believed that performance art, when done well, allows audience members to flex their intellect and observational skills in fresh, invigorating ways, I think it behooves an eclectic company like this to shine a bright light on the art of the work itself — the distinct artistry within the performance.

Performance art at its best is simply metatheater, reaching beyond the scope of the theatrical realm by orchestrating an experience that's bigger than the stage, the actors, the audience and the two hours they spend together while the lights are down. When realized with true vision and expertise, performance art not only tears down that old fourth wall, but sends everyone home with a slightly altered perspective on the world, on themselves and each other.

Some of the earliest performance art I ever saw was Anderson's "United States," Ashley's "Atalanta (Acts of God)" and Monk's "Dolmen Music" in the mid-1980s when lesser talents with big hair and egos to match managed to malign the art form. Unfortunately, some vestiges of misguided attempts at artytainment, which involved everything from abysmal acting to novice opera to curious usages of canned fruit, seem to remain even to the point of artists themselves wishing to distance themselves from the term.

The good news is simply that high-caliber, sophisticated works by unconventional companies like GUTWorks are serving to redefine both theater and performance art, devising an entirely new brand of live drama. It is performance and it is art, blending fearless writing, skilled thespians, inventive visuals and pioneering music into one complex, visionary feast comprised of various characters, concepts, images and sounds.

The flow of "This is the Place of Parting" is, in and of itself, original.

"It starts out with two-minute film," Quinn explains, "which is the Rosebud of the story. The author is writing about the end of the world and, in doing so, he comes to a near-death experience and is battling with his own decisions about finding meaning in his life. The rest of the play is in his mind, with a preacher, a zookeeper saving the last lion on planet and a young grieving mother, all characters who help him realize he should live. It's a celebration of the human experience and a lot of it is up for interpretation, like believing that the film really is Africa extending out 1,000 miles."

Quinn's powerful one-woman stage show, "Vamping," which she performed in New York last year, showcased her remarkable acting prowess as she told the story of her grandmother's battle with dementia, and if that is any indication, this new production will deliver on its promise that "On the edge between life and death, humanity's quest for meaning begins …"

Enthused not only about having brought GUTWorks itself to Southern Vermont, but the thematic pertinence and impact of "This is the Place of Parting," Quinn attests that its amalgam of elements and messages will compel audience members to explore difficult but important questions.

"It's a celebration of the human experience," she avows, "and asks how we each find meaning in our lives. How do people interpret faith and if there is no God, then what? What keeps us ticking? It doesn't make a decision, but just rejoices that we're all alive."

In addition to the Aug. 29 performance at the Bellows Falls Opera House, "This is the Place of Parting" will play at the New England Youth Theater on Sept. 3 and the Vermont Academy in Saxtons River on Sept. 4.

Note to readers: As I have other journalistic ventures under way, I need to make the Sover Scene bi-weekly going forward, but will still have my finger on the arts and culture pulse, so please look for it every other Thursday starting today. Thank you for being such devoted readers and keep your comments coming!

Online: www.gutworks.org
Annie: www.annieguyoncommunications.com

Midsummer plight of parents: And engaging creative diversions for kids

Right about now, when we're smack dab in the middle of summer break, we parents start peeking ahead in the calendar just to confirm when school starts up again. This is partially because we can't believe how fast the weeks are speeding by and we want to make sure to get in as much kid time as we can before they're swallowed up again by classes, homework, friends and extra-curricular activities.

  We also glance at September because we're starting to run out of ideas—and, let's face it, energy—for stimulating family fun. Despite the unrivalled joys of parenting immersion afforded by summertime, we're all starting to feel a little tuckered out right about now. Well, I am anyway.

We've swam, kayaked, gone to the beach, the river, the drive-in, on picnics, bike rides, hikes and walks, out for pizza, burgers, Chinese food and ice cream. We've had barbecues, birthday parties, tea parties and sleepovers. We've done all kinds of projects at home, from making jewelry, comic books and cookies to fairy houses, forts and ant farms (though, admittedly, the ants did most of that work). We've played chess, Boggle, Scrabble, Parcheesi, Sorry, Whoonu, Egyptology, Clue, Yahtzee, card games, catch, basketball and Frisbee more times than I can count. Heck, I even learned key aerodynamic principals while constructing sophisticated fleets of paper airplanes with my son and the art of making miniature clay dollhouse food with my daughter.

In addition to all these stimulating pastimes, our house has been bustling with a steady stream of wonderful visitors. Friends and relatives have come from Germany, California and D.C. with more yet to arrive from Kyoto and the UK. We have a few lakeside days slated with my aunt in Maine and various upcoming get-togethers with other families. And yet, despite these plans and the sea of books, art supplies, toys, sports equipment and games that we call home, I won't be entirely surprised if those four little words we parents loathe (and that I attempt to outlaw) will soon infiltrate the airwaves: "There's nothing to do."

Au contraire, little Janes and Johnnys everywhere—there is plenty to do in this bastion of culturally rich creativity, starting with local theatre.

Opening tonight, the Dorset Theater Festival brings a three-week run of "A Year With Frog and Toad" to
Vermont audiences of all ages, under the guidance of Off-Broadway's celebrated director Lear deBessonet. A hit during the 2003 Broadway season, this visually and musically rich amalgam of Arnold Lobels' beloved tales of Frog and Toad offers a sweet, amusing look at the importance of friendship.

From tomorrow through Sunday, the New England Youth Theatre in Brattleboro fills the stage with slightly wackier merriment in a rendition of "Aladdin and his Magic Lamp" that has young actors employing the delightfully lighthearted clown and mime methods of local thespian legends Gould & Stearns. Intended for audiences over four, the show includes kids impersonating tornadoes, crystal balls and sultans amidst an atmosphere of melodramatic mystery and inventive comedy.

Also on the bill at NEYT this weekend is a production of "The Emperor's New Clothes", the classic Hans Christian Anderson gem that has a vain ruler parading pompously amongst his people convinced he's cloaked in exquisite finery when he is in fact wearing only a plain shirt (and every kid loves the opportunity for a little flagrant snickering).

On August 16^th and 17^th, dramatically choreographed teenage rebellion comes to NYET with "West Side Story", Bernstein and Sondheim's heart-tugging, finger-snapping portrait of love that prevails amidst simmering gang conflicts and racial strife in 1950's New York City. Framed around the tragic Romeo and Juliet archetype, this is a quintessential American musical that has appeal for both genders, as it confronts issues of the familial pressures and powerful emotions with which young people so often wrestle.

Main Street Arts in Saxtons River also offers theatrical adventures for children, starting with The Pied Piper of Hamelin on Aug. 9^th and 10^th. A musical adaptation of the 13^th Century German folktale, made famous by the Brothers Grimm, it tells the story of the dastardly rat-catcher who promises residents he will rid the village of vermin by leading the creatures to the river with his music. When he is not paid the reward promised to him, he then uses his pipe to lure children away from the village as well. Various versions have been recorded throughout history and it's my guess that the Main Street Arts interpretation will brim with vibrant song, imaginative sets and boundless energy, as always.

The following weekend, on August 15^th and 16^th, MSA, in partnership with River Theater, will host a colorful evening of cabaret, with teens from surrounding communities performing musical numbers and scenes from a variety of plays.

Along with great live theater, there are also several outstanding museum exhibits that are either specifically for children or sure to capture their attention, if not inspire them to dig yet deeper into the crayon box or pull out the watercolors once they're back home.

At the Brattleboro Art and Museum Center the Activity Gallery is lined with exquisite illustrations by Caldecott Medal winning author, Chris Van Allsburg. Most known for the rich aesthetics and thrilling adventure he created in "The Polar Express", Van Allsburg's original artwork also includes scenes from The Mysteries of Harris Burdick, Two Bad Ants and The Sweetest Fig. As always, there's a kids' drawing table at the center of the gallery with books and supplies to help spark imaginations.

At the Bennington Museum, baseball fans can view prized artifacts such as bats used by Ted Williams, Babe Ruth and Manny Ramirez as well as Joe DiMaggio's jersey and Jackie Robinson's contract, in "Take Me Out to the Ballgame: A Summer of Baseball in Bennington." Vermont's own obsession with the game is also spotlighted, with archive photos and memorabilia of local community baseball fields, farm teams and the much-celebrated Northern League. Vintage baseball cards and modern renderings on the subject by Baseball Hall of Fame and Upper Deck artist Mike Schacht will also be on display.

Another terrific afternoon destination with the kids is the Southern Vermont Art Center which is currently showing work by renowned photorealist painter Janet Fish, whose ability to capture shifts in light, color, texture and depths of field is remarkable and riveting. With subject matter that includes beach parties, picnics and tag sales, it's a vibrantly hued, meticulously rendered take on everyday experiences as seen through one of the lens of one of the country's most proficient contemporary painters.

Don't forget to explore the possibilities at local art schools as well. Most offer great workshops for kids throughout the summer, keeping their creative wheels well-oiled til school starts up again.

So, if you're a parent who's starting to hear the occasional whingings and bleatings that there's nothing to do, consider yourself equipped with a hefty roster of retorts to that preposterous notion!

Online: www.neyt.org
www.mainstreetarts.org
www.dorsettheatrefestival.org
Annie: www.annieguyoncommunications.com

Murder most poignant: Riveting local history takes the stage

On May 29, 1897, Mildred Brewster, age 20, and Anna Wheeler, 17, strolled together under rainy skies through a residential Vermont neighborhood. The New York Times described what followed, in an article bearing the headline "Montpelier Love Tragedy": "As they were passing along a by-path, which leads to the boarding house whence Miss Wheeler was going, Miss Brewster suddenly drew a revolver and fired a shot almost point-blank into the side of Miss Wheeler's head."

The next day's follow-up piece reported that Miss Brewster had asked the doctor if Miss Wheeler was alive. "When told she was not, she closed her eyes, but said nothing," it read.

During the last year, Bellows Falls residents Denny Partridge and Steve Friedman — both veteran stage actors, playwrights and directors — have been discovering the meaning in Miss Brewster's silence. Through intensive research that took them down a labyrinthine path into dusty archives, genealogical shadows and unexpected fountains of information thousands of miles away, they pieced together the before, during and after of what was a disturbing and sensational crime.

The fruits of Partridge and Friedman's investigative efforts converge in "Mildred Taken Crazy," a compact, complex stage production which has them shouldering several dozen roles between them as they sew together facts, speculations and quandaries that have swirled around this compelling case for more than a century.

The play — which runs Friday and Saturday at Main Street Arts in Saxtons River and the Jamaica Town Hall on June 1 — distills their historical detective work down to a mere 40 minutes in a nimbly orchestrated amalgam of potent drama, dark levity, heartfelt song and vivid characters.

While the project has been a monumental undertaking for Partridge and Friedman, it is also a continuation of what's been a highly successful partnership that includes more than 60 productions, original and classic, performed around in the globe, starting with helping to put the San Francisco Mime Troupe on the map in the 1970s. Various honors, such as Fulbrights, NEA grants and fellowships, an Obie and an AUDELCO, populate their heady resumes, as do distinguished institutions like The New York Shakespeare Festival/Public Theater, Edinburgh's Film Festival and professorships at venerated universities including Barnard, Columbia, NYU and Vassar.

Partridge spent much of her childhood in Vermont and relocating here a few years ago has allowed the two to be nearer to family while still expending their creative energy in what they consider to be fertile artistic ground. Founding Mud Time Theatre last year — whose name comes from Frost's poem "Two Tramps in Mud Time" — they first staged "Mildred Taken Crazy" to great response in Europe last fall and, performing it now for Vermont audiences, are finding the experience even more fulfilling.

In a recent conversation, I asked how they came to discover Mildred Brewster and why they chose to construct an entire play around her.

"A crime is always worth a try, given the best of literature, the Greeks, etc.," Friedman said. "We were looking for Vermont crimes that felt like they could make a play and started going through old newspapers at the library. Somewhere I remembered that an old friend in New York had a poster on her kitchen wall that was the Brewster murder case."

"We'd seen it a million times," Partridge said. "The Montpelier Daily Record had distributed those posters in 1898 and it was a triangle murder case that had always seemed intriguing."

They delved into the coverage of the day, finding morsels of information in several East Coast dailies. "We sat ourselves down in front of microfilm and got to know the press of that time — the story, the players, the ingredients."

"At the trial," Partridge said, "there was standing room only. The jury was all men and the trial was attended by women — sobbing women — and her brothers and her father, who put up everything he had for a classy defense lawyer. It's a real women's story that could describe a woman's experience today — it's undiminished and still resonates."

"She was acquitted for reasons of insanity," Friedman said. "It was a pioneering use of that defense. She was put away in a Waterbury insane asylum but, under Nixon, a law came in that said no medical records from psychiatric hospitals can ever be released."

"Her records are sealed," Partridge said. "We found as much as we could and also what happened after she left the asylum. We searched her and had great help from some terrific people."

The Vermont Archives and a university library in another state opened doors to Mildred's life thereafter that Partridge and Friedman never thought they'd find. "They gave us the research keys and we found Mildred thousands of miles from Vermont," Partridge said.

As is often the case in research projects involving human interest stories, unexpected well-springs of meaning and insight emerged. Three very pleasant such surprises were seated in the front row at a recent staging of "Mildred Taken Crazy" in Montpelier: the great, great, grandnieces of Brewster's victim, Anna Wheeler, had heard of the play and were curious about how it might approach the sorrowful topic with which their lives have been inexorably entwined.

"They wanted to come and hear the other side," Partridge said. "They're lovely women and still have the quilt that Anna had been working on when she was killed — half made."

The esteem that Partridge and Friedman possess for those who have been touched by these events that took place so long ago is palpable, as is their cognizance that it's human nature for people to find tales of anguish somehow captivating. "It's an element of honor and of gossip," Partridge said, "the way certain misdeeds and crimes circulate through everybody's mouths and become the texture and the tissue of what they live on."

Their investigation into the circumstances that preceded the shooting and what transpired thereafter led them to fresh information with regard to Brewster's own demise. "We found Mildred's death certificate," Partridge said, "and other things on it that were relevant to who she was, like a full circle."

"The attraction of the story partly reminds me of a quote by Susan Sontag," Friedman said. "'I know it's art if I don't understand it.' Mildred's story is ultimately like this. A lot seems obvious and familiar yet at the heart of it there's something mysterious that pulled me in and made me want to spend time with her, the way you want to spend time with people who move or intrigue you."

When asked if the title implies that Mildred truly was taken crazy or if rumor reigned back then, the pair's response reveals the depth of their inquiries and attendant quest to establish and expose truth.

"In the trial they were arguing on her family heritage," Friedman said, "since mental illness was in her family and she was given to extremely strange behavior early in life. Everyone who knew her said she was a very strange person. That's part of what's inscrutable about it, the mystery of the motive — what was there in it for her?"

"I go back and forth every day with this," Partridge said. "It also doesn't mean she didn't know what she was doing when she pulled a gun out and shot this woman in the head."

As to what these seasoned actors seek to impart in "Mildred Taken Crazy" — with its stark, single-chair set and compressed reportage of their rigorous research into five decades of history — Partridge is certain.

"The best response is if someone leaves saying 'I just don't know what to think'. We're not trying to tell people what to think, we're trying to give the story life so the thinking is their work."

Reservations: MSA 869-2960

Online: www.mudtimetheatre.com

Annie: annieguyoncommunications.com

Get thee to yond masterpiece: Extraordinary duo reinvents Twelfth Night

I thought we'd come to the wrong theater. Upon taking our seats for an evening of Shakespearean comedy one night a couple of months ago, my 8-year-old daughter whispered, "The stage is a mess!" It was a modern mess, at that, which also didn't make sense as "Twelfth Night" was written more than 400 years ago.

Instead of Illyria — the fictional town on the Adriatic Coast in which Duke Orsino's love for Olivia blooms amidst a complex web of deceit, disguises and general Renaissancian folly — the scene before us was clearly the unkempt bedroom of a contemporary female teenager.

My kids marveled at the epic disarray, replete with unmade bed, boom box, backpack, magazines, bottles of water, stuffed animals, jewelry, accessories and clothes strewn everywhere.

Clearly, this was not going to be your average interpretation of the Bard and yet the chaotic set proved to be not so much a hint as a foil of what was to follow, for the actors who inhabited it would proffer a level of theatrical harmony and orderliness I'd never quite encountered before.

The cast size alone was astounding. Two actors were it, each masterfully shouldering seven full roles in a production that was faithful to every last "nay," "bade" and "troth" with which W.S. peppered this, one of his most celebrated comedies.

Such remarkable feats of thespian versatility always intrigue me but that's only part of the reason I'll be returning to attend one of the command performances taking place in Brattleboro this Saturday and Sunday.

It would be more than enough to wow every wench and knave in the house to simply have a pair of capable actors shifting nimbly from youthful protagonist Viola to staid Malvolio to hapless Sir Andrew Aguecheek to the quixotic duke. Such rapid-fire stagings often result in a delightful sort of bedlam that seems intended to pleasantly befuddle more than tenaciously engage the viewer.

In this case, though, not only is a complex, robust plot authentically explicated with an impossibly broad constellation of verbal and gestural nuances emanating from 14 clearly defined characters, it is all orchestrated by — remember the set? — two teenage girls.

Allie Bliss, 16, and Rosa Palmeri, 17, to be exact, and not to put too fine a point on it but Emma Thompson and Dame Judy Dench have some mighty strong protégés over here on this side of the pond and they had better make way.

Consummate actors and longtime friends, Bliss and Palmeri have been performing with the New England Youth Theatre in Brattleboro for about five years and their bonds, both professional and personal, were what inspired NEYT director Peter Gould to come up with the concept of the pair taking on the whole of "Twelfth Night."

"The play itself is so zany and it lets both of the actresses explore a wide range of characters," Gould said during a recent conversation.

Indeed. What is so remarkable about this production is not simply the acting prowess of these young women, for their ability to completely transform voice, carriage and countenance from one moment to the next is a marvel in and of itself.

Add to that a seamless execution of intricate choreography involving props, outfits, movement and makeup and what Gould, Bliss and Palmeri have mastered is not simply a madcap adaptation of Shakespearean comedy but an evocative amalgam of various performing arts disciplines as well.

When Palmeri sheds Malvolio's cloak and stuffs a pillow under her shirt to become the rotund Sir Toby Belch, or Bliss trades Orsino's leather jacket for Olivia's elegant negligee, it isn't just a costume change but an invitation to the audience to join in as co-conspirators in the fluent distillation of various symbols into powerful theatrical instruments. Apparel, objects and furniture become pragmatic devices and we're all deliciously privy to this inventive, albeit elaborate, storytelling process. This method, in all its seemingly untethered yet brilliantly constructed absurdity, is manifest throughout the play.

Malvolio's imprisonment, as ordered by a perplexed Olivia after his "midsummer madness" obscures his misguided love for her, is conveyed when Palmeri grimaces from behind the bars in the bed's headboard. A free-standing mirror becomes Viola's twin brother Sebastian when the same actress speaks to her own image in it, moving a small black faux-goatee to and from her chin to shift from male to female sibling.

Likewise, Bliss, deftly conducting a conversation between Sir Andrew Aguecheek and Olivia's maid Maria, both of whom she inhabits fully, holds out the servant's dress, which sways from a hanger and asks of it, "Wherefore, sweetheart? What's your metaphor?" while wearing Aguecheek's preposterous but apt lampshade chapeau.

As the play hums along, the pace increases with visual codes and physical cues synthesizing into ever-tighter exchanges as we audience members become tacitly complicit in what is a fine-tuned, mirthful and decidedly transparent comic ruse.

The fluidity of these subtle signs and the meaning packed into them gets further honed down to understated flourishes of characters' accoutrements so that when Bliss, having scribbled a black moustache under her nose, dangles an ostrich feather boa and addresses it with an earnest speech about "my soul the faithfull'st off'rings," we know in an instant that it's Orsino pleading with the opulent Olivia, the object of his unrequited love.

I asked Gould about how this streamlined comedic efficacy evolved.

"I came up with idea and as we rehearsed it, we'd have situations where we'd say 'We need to keep this character on stage — what can we do to represent him or her?' And we worked on it together. It's faithful to the text and the girls know they have a winner."

As the director of more than 40 Shakespearean plays and, having taken the New England Youth Theatre's production of "King Lear" to Shakespeare's high school in Stratford-Upon-Avon a few years ago, Gould is well aware that the caliber of this production merits a revisit to the United Kingdom's cradle of iambic pentametre and hopes to be able to bring it there one day.

For now, this weekend we lucky few have the privilege to see Bliss and Palmeri shift from 17 to 70, man to woman, servant to sailor and privileged to pauper in mere moments and to savor the rare fellowship they cultivate between actor and audience.

NEYT's production of "Twelfth Night" integrates superb dramatic acting with fruitful physical comedy and a kind of subtle yet beautifully allusive facial miming, along with a dose of Japanese noh theater in the form of blatant changes happening right in front of the audience, mid-performance.

This multilayered, potent presentation yields a satiating performance that's as abundant with twists, characters and pathos as a Russian novel, but — 'O heavens themselves!' — a lot more fun. It's easy to follow, as well.

"It should be said that as a director I'm really into clarity and the audience has no trouble understanding it," Gould asserted. "And I bet Shakespeare would have loved it."

Too right he would. He likely would have howled with laughter at the very notion of two young waifs tackling his play and yet would also probably have had to set down his cakes and ale in utter awe upon witnessing the well-oiled, rousing game of emotive hot-potato these two agile, old-souled young women sustain, using his verbiage as poetically delectable, fragrant said tuber.

Online: www.neyt.org
Annie: annieguyoncommunications.com

Astute performances from future leaders: Volume of Our Voices puts humanity in the spotlight

On the wall behind my computer hangs a bulletin board that's layered with colorful flotsam and jetsam from the past few decades, including postcards from around the globe, a Scottish pound note, my Japanese I.D. card, a Zippy gem, photos of friends and sundry ticket stubs from concerts by The Who, The Stones, the Pretenders and Nada Surf.

In amongst this visual cacophony are buttons I've collected over the years, with slogans ranging from "ERA Yes" and "Iggy Pop Fan Club" to "Question Authority" and a cow thinking "No Nukes," along with a row of badges from SF AIDS Walks.

At the center of it all is a large, faded button that reads "Feminism Is Humanism."

Of everything tacked to my vertical scrapbook, this particular specimen holds the most meaning for me, perhaps because it's the first political anything I ever acquired, launching a lifetime of buttons, bumper stickers, activism and awareness.

I got it in 1978 when my dear friend Daphne and I went to our first N.O.W. rally, held on the Stanford campus across the street from our high school. I remember the intriguing phrase — "Feminism Is Humanism" — standing out from all the other buttons, T-shirts and signs, knowing that it captured my particular philosophy more accurately than anything else.

As readers here learned last year when I wrote about the Brattleboro Women's Film Festival, I'm not your average feminist. I'm the kind who thinks our collective might becomes far more abundant, effective and lasting when attained through more inclusive means, particularly when those means fit under the aegis of art.

Though it's often felt like swimming upstream, I still believe feminism is humanism and that we serve the greater good by welcoming everyone to the discussion, with no labels, monikers or categories that might risk dissuading potential supporters from becoming involved.

During this, the final weekend of Women's History Month, a group of diverse and multitalented students and faculty members at World Learning's SIT Graduate School in Brattleboro are sharing a stage in precisely that type of event.

On Friday and Saturday night, more than two dozen performers will express their views through song, movement and spoken word, in "Volume of Our Voices," an evening of creative expression on the topics of gender, identity and sexuality, benefiting the Women's Crisis Center in Brattleboro.

Original monologues, poems, dances, music and even martial arts will illustrate stories that are personal, if not intimate, yet universal in relevance to the larger human experience and the common societal messages that can misrepresent, misinform, isolate and stereotype different factions of society.

In speaking with a few of the students participating — all of whom are working toward master's degrees in SIT's renowned international education program — I was impressed by the breadth of their experiences and the unique challenges each will voice in their respective performances.

Jon Woods, an organization management candidate, will be exploring issues of race, belonging and disenfranchisement through poetry, song and the martial art known as Capoeira, a muscular type of competitive dance that originated in Angola and found larger cultural roots in Brazil centuries ago within the slave community.

Naming his piece, "If I Had Wings I Could Fly," after a line from the song "Regulate" by rappers Warren G. and Nate Dogg, Woods takes us on his journey from anguish to understanding with remarkable perspicuity and grace.

"The poem itself goes from despair, hopelessness and rage to being lost and then trying to find guidance as a black man," he explained. "It touches on the issue that in black culture there's a disconnection between parenthood and the next generation, a prevalence of no role models existing and having to look at historical references and not necessarily in your household, whether it's a book or music that you respond to."

Though Woods' personal and intellectual path has been paved by the work of legends such as Malcolm X, Martin Luther King and civil rights activist and scholar, W.E.B. Du Bois, he also absorbed profound life lessons much closer to home.

"I learned a lot from my father and his struggle in the corporate world," reflected Woods. "Being a black manager he had to deal with a lot of conflict, internal mainly, and the struggle to assimilate but also be himself."

"When I wrote my poem, I was having a really bad day," he confided. "I'm the only black man at SIT and that's fine because I'm used to white schools but sometimes I just want to talk to someone I can connect with on that.

"The way that Capoeira is incorporated is a release of energy; if you're angry sometimes the tension just needs to be released. It's a martial art that's powerful but you play it against yourself."

For Cole Kovac, who is working toward a master of art in teaching, an equally formidable frustration with society emerges in his monologue titled, "Pushing Boundaries: One Man's Reality," which challenges the widely accepted pejorative term that often pigeonholes people like him as having a "gender identity disorder."

As a person born female but who identifies male, Kovac investigates his own perspective from several compelling angles.

"The first part of the monologue is about the medical world's view of transgendered people," he explains. "The second half is about my story and feelings and struggles and why I'm on stage."

When I asked him about this latter question, he replied, "At this point I'm the only transgendered person on campus and I felt like my voice needed to be heard, especially since the performance isn't geared only towards women. And SIT is a very supportive community — it's a good place to be."

Conflict transformation major Rachel Unkovic possesses a similar wealth of wisdom, particularly having learned in her studies that peace-building is more productive than conflict management or resolution.

"It's the idea that conflict never goes away and that it can open the door to dialogue and new ideas," she asserted. "It can be changed from violence into something more productive."

In "Magic Mirror," which includes inventive vignettes such as "Sleeping Beau," Unkovic and classmates Scarlett Shaffer and Victoria Der use shadow puppets to retell classic fairy tales. "We explore old stories that we're all told growing up and the impact those messages have on kids. We're looking at the idea of gender roles and roles that you're forced to take."

That the show is a benefit for one of the region's most crucial social service organizations — providing shelter along with emotional, legal and crisis support for survivors of abuse — is all the more reason to come out and support these visionary young people who are working hard to create a future that is informed by expansive, global perspectives and a reverence for the power of the human spirit.

The Women's Crisis Center views these issues through a similarly humanistic lens, as evidenced in their thanks to SIT for donating proceeds from the show to their cause: "It takes a dynamic, unified force to address the war waged on the bodies of women and children every day in this community and all over the world. Women still live with the daily reality of physical and sexual violence, still live with the systems which protect them imperfectly, at best, and sometimes not at all. We both honor and rely on our allies in ending men's violence against women and children."

The unified force behind "Volume of Our Voices" exemplifies this inclusive approach to solving the global scourge of discrimination, disrespect and brutality. As Woods' commanding poem implores, "Let your voice be heard, preach the word, because no matter your gender or race, the struggle always continues."

Or, as Kovac puts it, with equal sagacity, "Our identities are always evolving."

The highs and lows of love: Circus beguiles with the greatest of ease

We've all heard of kids running away from home to join the circus, but whoever heard of anyone running away from a full college scholarship to swing from a trapeze?

I sure hadn't, until earlier this week, that is, when I spoke with twin sisters Elsie Smith and Serenity Smith Forchion, but trade academia for the aerial arts they did.

A couple of decades later and they've turned this courageous craft into a fulfilling career with a full-fledged circus school and production company in Brattleboro and plans for a multimedia downtown arts complex under way as well.

Nimble Arts is comprised of Elsie, Serenity and six other top-notch circus performers with resumes that include Cirque de Soleil, Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey Circus and Pilobilus, and for the next three nights — just in time for Valentine's Day — they'll be performing "The Love Show: A Circus & Vaudeville Exploration of Silly & Serious Relationships."

With a title that sounds like a swath of my own romantic blunders, the show is comprised of tantalizing vignettes such as "Harlem Nocturne," "Dos Chicas," "Shake Your Booty" and "Chair Dance," investigating love from all sides through trapeze, juggling and acrobatics, skills that, some would say, are symbolically applicable to relationships as well.

The analogies in "The Love Show" really are wonderfully germane to the rewards and risks of romance, and when I spoke with the sisters, who founded Nimble Arts in 2003, they elaborated.

"We have a through-line with different characters," Elsie explained. "Three gods come down to figure out what this whole love thing is about and their cupid misplaces his arrow. So one of the girls falls in love with one of the gods, she gets stuck on a trapeze, a friend goes to help her and another cupid arrow flies."

"It's not just about new love," she continued, "it's also about people who have weathered long-time relationships and not everyone gets hooked up in the end. We wanted to make it true to love in all of its forms. At one point, a woman stands on her mate's head and that particular scene is poignant because it's about people who have been in love a long time."

When one considers the interdependence in trapeze work — particularly the tacit trust, balance and strength it demands of each participant — its references to human connection are arrestingly eloquent.

One number spotlights the conviction of sisterly allegiances, with Elsie and Serenity on a slowly-revolving trapeze, all the while intersecting, leaning, grasping, supporting, dropping down, swooping up and striking complex, symmetrical poses that emphasize the unique bond between twins.

"Dos Chicas" is like a moving Rorschach, their blended silhouettes stark against a black background as they fluidly shift from one shape to another. Dividing, mirroring, entwining and unraveling again, in feats of impossible daring and flexibility, they induce the prismatic trance of a kaleidoscope. It is mesmerizing, beautiful and terrifying, again, with palpable parallels to love itself.

Amidst sibling loyalty and the abiding commitment of tried and true relationships, "The Love Show" also takes a peek at the flirtatious side of romantic love with decidedly seductive intent.

In "Harlem Nocturne," the sisters are joined by Bronwyn Sims in a charming nod to "Cabaret" and the Kit Kat Club, circa 1930, in which the women's attire is as come-hither as their movements. Dressed in silk chemises, black stockings and garters, they sashay out of darkness into the spotlights, approach an assembly of three trapezes, strike a few sultry poses and then begin an elegant and boldly evocative airborne ballet.

Against a backdrop of saucy saxophone and a primal beat, "Harlem Nocturne" takes the concept of pole dancing to a whole new and far more aesthetically creative level. With upside down splits, kittenish poses and minxy melodrama, it's more steamy than salacious, but lusty, nevertheless. Though billed as family-friendly, this piece skirts the edges of burlesque theater, so parents take note: It'll likely render the average hormone-cocktail shaken and stirred.

Risqué or not, theater it is, for I half expected Joel Grey to shimmy by sprinkling shiny pfennigs on the ground and grinning maniacally at the crowd through his monocle. Each member of Nimble Arts brings a great deal of theatrical prowess into the work, in fact, and it comes through in every number.

Circus performers must display a hefty roster of traditional expertise, including dancing and acting, and while this company boasts one impressive collective resume, many of them learned on the job, as it were. The founders, in fact, discovered circus arts in the most unlikely of settings: a family resort vacation.

Serenity and Elsie grew up on a farm in Massachusetts, with no formal dance, athletic or theatrical training whatsoever, and it was during a seaside holiday that they stumbled upon what became a lifetime occupation.

"When we were 16, our mother had a medical conference at a Club Med and they had a trapeze over a safety net in an outdoor gym camp," Serenity recalled. "We thought it was fun, but didn't think much of it as a career — we were both were high academic achievers with scholarships to go to Amherst College. During the summer, we needed jobs and my sister heard of a teacher-apprentice program at a circus arts school, so we signed up."

"Afterwards," she continued, "I went back to college, but my sister stayed and when I was offered a full-time job with Ringling Brothers, I didn't know what to do. Amherst said they'd hold my scholarship for a year, but eventually the director of Cirque de Soleil was looking for twin trapezists and offered us a four-year contract so, needless to say, I did not go back to school."

Work and life eventually took the sisters out to San Francisco, where they joined the Pickle Family Circus, a wonderfully authentic, high-caliber organization that, like Nimble Arts, has no animals, but only spectacular feats of human daring, flexibility and grace.

Eventually helping establish the San Francisco Circus Center — which includes Clown Conservatory, Mongolian Contortion and Flying Trapeze classes — Serenity also met her husband, Bill Forchion, there.

Forchion came to the circus arts after studying to be a song-and-dance man at the American Musical Dramatic Academy in New York City. Now Nimble Arts is spreading the circus gospel around the globe through everything from performances for the Sheik of Dubai to competing in the China Wuqiao International Circus Festival to conducting safety trainings for Cirque de Soleil.

One of my favorite moments in "The Love Show" is at the end of "Harlem Nocturnes," when, after a stream of spellbinding configurations, the trio alights back down to the floor, gazing at the crowd and triumphantly clasping hands. Slowly, they turn their backs to us, flexing their brawny biceps and sinewy musculature, revealing that, under all that lace and satin, these women truly are pure might.

Online: www.nimblearts.org
Annie: annieguyoncommunications.com

Hali to the hall: Piano virtuoso brings eclectic sound to new performing arts center

In the last couple of years, three beautiful performing arts venues have helped make Windham County a veritable epicenter of live theater, all the result of ample community vision, including the Bellows Falls Opera House's massive restoration, the New England Youth Theatre's new digs in Brattleboro and the gleaming Horowitz Performing Arts Hall, built from the ground up on the Vermont Academy campus in Saxtons River.

Since opening its doors just about a year ago, the Horowitz — and, more specifically, the 350-seat Nita Choukas Theater within — has been grabbing my attention on a regular basis with an ever-compelling roster of events that range from lectures by first-time authors and rising stars to presentations by seasoned actors and sage politicians. Though ensconced up on a hill amidst VA's handsome grounds, the theater opens all its events to the public and I can attest that the experience of seeing a performance or speaker there is a delightful one.

Horowitz Hall, a 14,000-square-foot modern space designed by Michael Rosenfeld, Inc., has a light-filled lobby that also serves as a gallery space for visual arts exhibits and the building will eventually boast art studios as well when the second phase of the project is completed.

The centerpiece of the building is the bright and inviting Choukas Theater, which is big enough to accommodate full theatrical productions but small enough to make every event an intimate experience. The somewhat steep slope of the house affords excellent sightlines from any vantage point, which is something I greatly appreciate about so many small theaters being built these days, as that pronounced rake makes the entire experience more inclusive regardless of seat location.

Actors are able to access aisles as well, allowing players to venture closer to the audience at key points in the show, a decidedly "Sensurround" device that brings the storyline to life yet further. When I caught a rousing production of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" last fall, singers and dancers moved between seating sections, rendering their ebullience — and the already phenomenal acoustics —that much more vivid.

The last time I'd experienced that kind of blurring between stage and audience was when I saw Isabella Rossellini and Richard Thomas in a production of "The Stendhal Syndrome" at Primary Stages in New York City a couple of years ago. At the end of the second act, Thomas, in the role of a blustery conductor whose marriage is crumbling, stood at his podium and "conducted" us, the audience, as if we were his orchestra. All the while, Rossellini perched over the scene in a small balcony, observing him along with the rest of us as he ranted to himself about her. As in "Joseph," it was a marvelous example of how intimate theatrical spaces can afford a level of versatility that larger ones cannot and I look forward to future productions at the Choukas that will further explore such spatial innovation.

Another core value of the Nita Choukas Theater is its location and attendant role in the nurturing and edification of future generations. While the remarkably varied calendar of events is a superb cultural resource for the public at large, appearances by consummate performers, writers and other notables also offer a rare educational opportunity for students from VA and elsewhere.

Scanning the spring schedule, it becomes clear that many of the speaker events are specifically geared toward young people because they're slated for daytime appearances and are integrated into the curriculum. Regardless of time, these events are also open to the public and pertinent to anyone and everyone who seeks to learn more about the world through the expert insights of people who have experienced challenges and triumphs first hand.

Next month, for instance, Lourdes Moran, a member of the New Orleans School Board, will speak about rebuilding after Hurricane Katrina and, in March, Joseph Sebarenzi, a former speaker in the Rwandan Parliament, will talk about the genocide against his Tutsi brethren, his work in restorative justice and the power of forgiveness. April brings Kris Holloway, a former member of the Peace Corps who wrote an exquisite book about her experience observing and assisting a midwife in Mali.

Along with speakers, there are masterful theatrical entertainers bestowing their prowess upon this thriving community of culture-vultures as well, including NEYT members in an unusual production of Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night," the Windham Orchestra and the Lawrence High School Girls' Ensemble, whose repertoire is comprised of compositions by women.

Friday night a remarkable musician will be taking the Nita Choukas Theater stage and — whether you're a kid who takes piano lessons, an accomplished adult musician or simply a jazz fan — it's an evening not to be missed.

Ben Stepner, a 19-year-old pianist and composer from Newton, Mass., has been playing since he was 6 years old and, now studying jazz at the New England Conservatory and appearing regularly throughout Boston, he has performed in numerous distinguished venues, including the Berklee Performance Center, The Museum of Fine Arts, Zeitgeist Gallery, Regattabar and Ryles.

Upon hearing Stepner's new CD, "19 Pieces For Piano," from his label Pure Potentiality Records, I was instantly struck by the emotive lines, complex melodies and depths of tone emanating from such a young person. His compositions resonate with a sublime certitude, sagacity and grace, no doubt the product of having been raised by professional musicians during a childhood steeped in studies with eminent jazz artists such as Fred Hersch, Danilo Perez and Phil Grenadier.

There is a wry erudition in Stepner's aesthetic, which comes through in both his music and its monikers, with song titles that put the listener in deep thought before one note has been played.

Names such as "Emulsion", "Perceptions", "The Nature of Sound" and "Egotism vs. Altruism" already had me thinking of my favorite French composer, Erik Satie, whose works include "Chilled Pieces," "Automatic Descriptions," "Vexations" and "Interruption." Listening to Stepner's enigmatic "Universe Stopped" — a sparse, meditative piece filled with negative spaces, a slow, glowing pulse and inquisitive key-changes — I felt sure Satie must be a fond favorite.

"I learned Satie's 'Gymnopédies #1' last year at Oberlin," Stepner said when we spoke recently, "but I actually wrote 'Universe Stopped' before that."

No surprise. He inhabits his own musical universe, writing masterful compositions in a number of genres that reveal a rare acumen and creative fearlessness. The result is a remarkable command of everything from Blue Note jazz and vintage Motown to bold, agile hip-hop, revealing influences that cover a broad swath of music history.

"Some of my favorites growing up were The Beatles, Thelonious Monk and Radiohead," he attests, "and in the last few years, I discovered Ornette Coleman, Prince and Morton Feldman. But if you really want to know, this year has been a huge hip-hop phase for me. I'm obsessed with Lil' Wayne, whose music has led me to a deeper appreciation of rap in general."

Playing his own pieces, along with standards by legends such as Monk, Billy Strayhorn, Stevie Wonder and Sam Rivers — with bass accompaniment by VA instructor Steve Cady — Stepner's performance Friday night is going to have plenty of something for everyone. Kids, especially, will be inspired to see the conviction, courage and brilliance of this down-to-earth yet clearly irrepressible young man.

Online: www.benstepner.com
www.vermontacademy.org/speakersandperformances
Annie: www.annieguyoncommunications.com

Frailty of the human condition in one act: Oldcastle Theatre takes on the nature of memory

The most satiating theatrical experiences are those that take up residence in one's psyche for days after a performance, whether the aftertaste is joy, melancholy or simply an intriguingly fresh perspective on an old theme.

Take this week, for instance. Last Saturday, I attended the Royal Shakespeare Company's production of "The Seagull," one of Chekhov's four major plays, at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. Days later, I'm still immersed in deep thought about the story, with its ensemble of troubled characters woven together by taut threads of torment, resentment, jealousy and unrequited love.

Its grip was reinforced by the scenes Chekhov had us witness and all they imply about what must have gone before them in the evolution of the tale. Nearly every script's narrative arc has as its foundation the characters' collective history, or back story, which gradually becomes evident as the play unfolds. Our assessment of each individual on the stage shifts and expands as each line is delivered until we've pieced together a picture of the past, which renders the present plausible and ripe.

So when I spoke with Eric Peterson, director at the Oldcastle Theatre in Bennington, about its production of Lee Blessing's "A Body of Water," which begins tomorrow night, I was a little taken aback.

"There is no 'Ah-ha!' moment when everything falls in to line," he said of Blessing's one-act, five-scene psychological drama. "There are more questions than answers and I always love plays like that."

Running through Oct. 7, "A Body of Water" is bound to ensnare our thoughts because it is — by its very premise — completely void of back story and yet brimming with possible scenarios via our own inexorable speculation and Blessing's clean, almost poetic dialogue.

A man, Moss, and woman, Avis, wake up in an unfamiliar mountain home surrounded by water. They know the identity of neither themselves nor the other. At first, their bewilderment engenders a modicum of levity as they try to ascertain the nature of their relationship and location.

"The first scene is farcical," Peterson explains. "It starts out like a comedy but then becomes a psychological mystery."

This darkening arrives in the form of a young woman named Wren, who supplies them with an explanation of their circumstances that is wrenching and ominous. Their only contact with the outside world, she eventually proffers two entirely different versions of who they are and why there are there, her own ostensible role in their lives also shifting and infusing the dynamic with further anguish and confusion. She is at once caretaker and tormenter, and it's possible that she is also their daughter, but, then again, perhaps not.

"A Body of Water" is a disquieting, thought-provoking meditation on the profound might of memory and the staggeringly crucial role it plays in our sense of self and our cognizance of reality. As Moss and Avis are yanked from one emotional chessboard to another, even down to the careers they may or may not have had, a sinister veil of existential panic settles like a disorienting dust over the proceedings.

The excruciatingly tenuous explanations that Wren offers them serves to dangle their own capacity to trust where it is perpetually out of reach, recalibrating the magnitude of human fragility and reminding us of our own vulnerability in any relationship. The cruelty Wren wields as she continues to force Moss and Avis to revise their views of themselves and each other several times over makes their plight that much more discomfiting and untenable.

Though they are obviously intelligent, educated people, Moss and Avis' inherent affability juxtaposed against Wren's obtuse malice renders the equation dangerously imbalanced. Avis' candor in trying to describe the situation — saying that her memory "went jogging and never came back" — only underscores the disparity of psychological wherewithal between the couple and their keeper.

One can't help but consider the terror of neurological disorders like amnesia or Alzheimer's anew when encountering the scenario that Blessing constructs. "A Body of Water" quickly dispenses with any misguided notion that ignorance is bliss, for it is not the lack of information that's frightening, but the idea that any one person could have the authority to assign identity and meaning to another.

That one's total sense of security could hinge on another human being's potential ethics, stability and foibles is a sobering concept and these weighty notions comprise one of the many layers in the psychological strata of Blessing's work.

The distorted scrim through which Moss and Avis attempt to piece together their place in the world brings to mind a 1962 surrealist film called "Exterminating Angel" by Spanish director Luis Buñuel in which the collective reason and rationality of a group of people slowly crumbles under the weight of perceived abandonment.

Guests at a dinner party are rendered helpless when the servants depart and, believing they've been trapped in the room, core fears and impulses take over. Their grasp on reality slowly evaporates, driving some to survivalist measures, others to violence and even suicide.

While the path from lightness to darkness in "A Body of Water" has a dash of Eugene Ionesco meets David Lynch to it, the unconventional plotline, with its intrinsic absence of character development, also recalls Samuel Beckett's rejection of traditional theatrical canons and his signature distillation of human traits and emotions.

We encounter a middle-aged couple and — because of the socio-cultural decoding expertise with which most of us assume we've been duly inculcated — our impulse is to presume basic truths about these people based on their demeanor, their eloquence and their appearance. With the methodical pacing and steady meting out of further clues, we are forced to discard the template against which we typically measure our experience of people because here it has been dismantled wholesale.

Sartre's "No Exit" comes to mind as well, with its confinement of three people in a room for the duration of the play and the declaration that "l'enfer, c'est les autres" or "the underworld [Hell], it is the others." They excavate and examine one another's faults, fears and transgressions, but ultimately their own thoughts are what truly hold them captive.

Blessing's choice to denude Moss and Avis of any personal history or identity and to go through the discovery process together seems to have, at its most elemental source, at least some avowal of French philosopher Jacques Derrida's convictions about the self and the other.

According to Derrida, the concept of the self is interdependent with the concept of the other. He believed that the metaphysical works of numerous philosophers before him validated his theory that these concepts are implicitly defined by opposition and cannot be articulated separately.

Peterson echoes the theme. "It's about identity," he affirms. "If I don't know who you are, can I know who I am?"

As to whether "A Body of Water" will linger like Chekhov in the minds of its audiences, with the Oldcastle Theatre's all-Equity company taking on a consummate writer like Blessing — who is renowned for compelling works such as "Chesapeake" and "A Walk In the Woods" — I think it's a given, and so does Peterson.

"The thing I like about this play is that people will be talking about it for days," he attests. "They'll disagree and nobody will be wrong."

Online: oldcastletheatreco.org

Beatnik Cafe: Evolution of a revolution

It's not every day that a small metal sphere orbiting the earth sparks a term that defines an entire swath of a politically astute, intellectually engaged and artistically bold generation.

On April 2, 1958, journalist Herb Caen — during his 50-year-long career writing a daily column for the San Francisco Chronicle — casually coined the term "beatnik" in a line about Look magazine having hosted a party for "250 bearded cats." Unwitting representatives of the already-infamous beat generation and their peers, by the time the city had had slurped down its collective cup o' joe the next morning, had been duly anointed with a label that played on the name of the former Soviet Union's unmanned spacecraft, Sputnik, which had taken its virgin loop around the globe only months before.

When I knew him in the 1980s, Caen told me that when he'd pounded out that nickname on his loyal Royal manual typewriter, it was at a time when a great many buzzwords were being spawned simply by adding the "nik" suffix. "Neatnik," "peacenik" and "no-goodnik" entered the lexicon, not to mention "Muttnik" for the poor pooch that was chosen to be the first living creature launched into space, on Sputnik 3.

Caen certainly had no idea the name would become an internationally known brand for the cultural gumbo of bebop musicians, trailblazing poets, avant-garde artists and system-bucking anarchists but, as someone at the epicenter of the movement who regularly hung out with modern musicians such as Brubeck, Basie, Armstrong, Fitzgerald and Shearing, there was no better wordsmith for the task.

At 7 p.m. Saturday, the great Sheila Jordan, one of bebop's legendary voices — along with a powerful posse of seasoned jazz musicians and a vibrant troupe of singers, dancers and actors — will bring this eccentric era to life in "Beatnik Café: A Musical Revue" at Brattleboro's downtown theater, The Church.

Written by the Vermont poet Namaya, this unconventional cabaret is part homage, part history lesson and part pop-culture "happening," weaving renowned gems such as Brubeck's "Take Five" and Monk's "Round Midnight" into the socio-political fabric of Ginsburg's "Howl," Burroughs' "Naked Lunch" and more mainstream iconography such as James Dean and Dobie Gillis.

Taking the audience from the Beat era's big band beginnings in the 1940s through quirky 1950s TV hits and into smoky New York City clubs, Moroccan opium dens and the teeming North Beach poetry scene of the '60s, Beatnik Café is an engaging timeline of the musical, literary and trend-setting luminaries.

Inhabiting a colorful cast of fictional characters, including the ghost of Jack Kerouac, Dr. Sax, Queen B-Bop and Bongo D, performers will read poems, perform skits, scat slogans and croon ballads on various heady topics that filled the headlines during that period, from the A-bomb and socialist ideals to hobo angst and the "I Love Lucy" show.

Namaya's personal immersion in the chronology of this charged period in American history is evident in the depth of research that he conducted while creating the show.

"I'm always interested in historical themes in literature and writing, so I was curious how … bebop, hard-bop and atonal jazz developed," he said recently after a rehearsal. "And what were the social forces at play like civil rights, the heroin epidemic and major cultural changes like rock 'n' roll and the intersection of jazz?"

In addition to a song list peppered with various demi-gods of the period, including Dizzy Gillespie, Nina Simone, Miles Davis and Big Joe Turner, Namaya has written a few songs of his own to comprehensively propel the chronology.

"I've written a few numbers for the show, like "Heroin Blues," a ballad of loss and disintegration and Charlie Parker's destruction with addiction," he explains.

Namaya has also integrated Jordan's personal stories into the program, infusing skits and songs with her vivid firsthand recollections. "Sheila remembers going with her friend Charlie Parker in 1949 to Birdland — the famous club named after Parker himself — but she said they wouldn't let him in because he had no jacket."

Then there the more scandalous tales about Parker and his fellow musicians unapologetically demonstrating that the Beat era was the height of hedonism, on numerous fronts, particularly with regard to illicit substances of one kind or another.

Art Blakey has been credited with saying, "Jazz began in a gin tub, mellowed in marijuana and is being killed by heroin."

When one delves into some of the songs that were being written back then, it appears he was an incisive social commentator.

It's hard to visualize the artistic thread that links innocent swing tunes such as "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree" to darker melodies, such as Monk's "Straight, No Chaser" or the very early 1936 reefer song, "If You're a Viper," with its ominous, descending bass lines prowling through fairly dastardly lyrics. But bebop, jazz and beat music evolved out of the weighty sequence of events between post-WWII euphoria to anti-establishment rejection of the Vietnam war.

With the earnest reverence of a cultural archaeologist, Namaya's obsession with the artistic symbolism and progression of this era is obvious. When we got on the topic of "hip" vs. "hep," he explained that the roots of both go back to the African Wolof language, in which "hepi" means "to see" and "hipi" refers to "opening one's eyes." Ergo, monikers such as "hep cat" and "hippie," which began to populate the vernacular back then and are still around today, have a mighty positive etymology — news that will surely change the minds of uptight squares everywhere.

Namaya and his energetic, hard-working comrades have constructed an evening that's guaranteed to be edifying and multi-dimensional, offering as its centerpiece a rare opportunity to hear Sheila Jordan's bright, agile, honeyed tones.

Jordan is backed up by top jazz musicians such as consummate saxophonist Scott Mullett, director of the Vermont Jazz Center, versatile percussionist Bob Weiner, who's toured with Harry Belafonte and Betty Buckley, veteran bass player George Kay and innovative pianist Miro Sprague. And behind that impressive delegation is the effervescent presence and mellifluously dynamic voice of Samirah Evans, of New Orleans, along with local songstresses Carol Smith and Cindy Hellman scatting their way down bebop memory lane.

Sitting in on a rehearsal last week — in which musicians and singers shifted deftly between charts and improvisation, with a collective joie de bebop and friendly banter injecting the room further with palpable sizzle — I was impressed by the wealth of expertise these accomplished performers bring to this collaboration. It's an artistic simpatico that's tough to cultivate in a multimedia ensemble piece of such complexity.

This is one tight, intuitive band with a lush, resonant sound and, anchored by Jordan's elegant phrasing and the historical import of Namaya's narrative arc, "Beatnik Café" is sure to be one hip, high-caliber theatrical event.

You dig, Daddy-O?

Online: www.brattleborotix.com

Shakespeare for newbies and scholars alike: Weston's madcap compendium is much ado about nearly everything

Of Shakespeare, Samuel Johnson, in 1765, said, "It must be confessed that, as we owe everything to him, he owes something to us; that, if much of our praise is paid by perception and judgment, much is likewise given by custom and veneration."

That veneration used to pave most paths into Shakespeare, whether it was sifting through sonnets in 10th-grade lit or settling in for a full staging of "Hamlet."

These days there are plenty of other nontraditional inroads into his iconic iambic pentameter, whether it's Hollywood's musings on his love life, his many lines that generously pepper pop culture —"rhyme nor reason" ("Comedy of Errors"), "in a pickle" ("The Tempest"), "well read" ("Henry IV, Part 1") — or your local Renaissance festival where faux-immersion into circa 1600 culture allows one to nurse a tankard of modern mead while taking in an abbreviated, outdoor "As You Like It" or "Othello."

It was within this latter context that "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged)" — a wry, feisty, delectably irreverent and unapologetically mirthful gallop through Shakespeare's entire oeuvre — was born.

Having been a regular patron of the Renaissance Faire in Northern California years ago, I remember when the Reduced Shakespeare Company spawned their farcical mini-skits there, crafting pithy pastiches of "Macbeth" or satirical sketches of "King Lear." The spirited, rag-tag spoofs were so well-received, the writers eventually strung them together into what has become a tremendously popular play performed around the globe (the planet, not the theater) and which now graces — so to speak — the Weston Playhouse stage.

The show is a compression of all 37 (well, give or take a few) of Shakespeare's plays into 96 invigorating minutes that — in the seasoned hands of director Malcolm Ewen and actors Tom Aulino, David Bonanno and Sam Lloyd Jr. — veer nimbly from vibrant verbal jousting and physical comedy to confessional, mid-sketch narration and commanding, dramatic monologues.

Within this impressively organized chaos, it becomes very clear from the outset that these folks are having a grand time in their quirky, colorful high-tops and pantaloons, while still flexing serious thespian muscle.

"As a director, you try to find a bridge between something that is fun and entertaining for everyone, but that has a reference to good writing and that's also challenging for the performers and creative team as well," Ewen explained before Tuesday night's preview performance. "The great thing about it is that when the base material is so good, it can stand up to parody and still retain the intelligence and the poetry."

With only three actors steering this unabashedly wobbly, but inexorably determined convoy of slapstick, Shakespearean CliffsNotes, the humor emerges from several unexpected sources, such as Lloyd's quick changes from one disheveled, flippant blonde or another (Juliet, Ophelia, Gertrude) to an exasperated castle guard to a crumbling cast member who wails that he can't handle "Hamlet."

Aulino also exemplifies the versatility this play requires, starting the show off dressed as one of the house ushers and going on to inhabit the likes of Romeo, Macbeth, Antony and Laertes. His endearingly soft-spoken, empathetic moments are impeccably countered by Bonanno's bravado and aplomb, which fuel Hamlet's feigned madness and the ghoulish glee of Titus Adronicus (think Anthony Bourdain in rhinestone specs).

Under the inventive direction of Ewen, the Weston's version of what was London's longest-running stage comedy is a handsome feather in the collective hat for this agile trio of players, who proffer an enchanting breadth of comic dexterity, dramatic virtuosity and — dare I say it — genuine pathos in between flying wigs, televangelist sermons, Dean Martinesque crooning and rapid-fire wordsmithery, the latter evolving at one point into a truly inspired sampling of Elizabethan rap.

"It can be harder to keep that human element in this kind of show," Ewen said, "and, though we're not trying to take comedy out, performers do have to be serious about doing a zany "Romeo and Juliet." They have to play it with truth and passion; it needs to be funny, but it's got to be thoughtful as well."

Each player delivers, big time, on all counts. Amid the choppy sea of costume changes and logistical maneuvering, small jewels of pure Shakespearean gold gleam brightly, albeit ever so briefly. As their synopsis of "Hamlet" begins to fall apart at the seams, suddenly Lloyd is at the foot of the stage, delivering the Act II, Scene ii soliloquy about "the beauty of the world" and "this quintessence of dust," duly silencing the audience's howls of laughter and rendering them enrapt.

Likewise, when Aulino, as Romeo, rushes to the lifeless Juliet, his hip mirrored shades and purple locks are instantly eclipsed by the earnest, heartrending legitimacy of his words, "O my love, my wife," which lodged an instant lump in my throat, just as they always have during every classic performance of the R & J that I've seen.

TCWWS(A) calls upon director and performers to create a demanding amalgam of farce and drama and they do so in ways that are moving and sardonic, conventional and innovative. They even tap into current events by referencing a certain "shrew from New York" and weave in philosophical luminaries from the past with speeches about existentialist power over destiny and the noble man's rejection of nihilism.

"Notes in the script encourage actors to make topical references, which is one of the reasons we were interested in the play," Ewen said. "It makes for a really well-written and lively evening. And even if you don't know Shakespeare's work — whether you know 'Hamlet' is about a melancholy Dane or not — it's still accessible."

I have to admit, I approached the play with a soupçon of concern about that issue of veneration that Johnson described, not to mention my own woefully selective knowledge of the subject matter itself. But what I found is an ensemble that is providing yet another entrée into the brilliant mind of this literary titan, along with another example of the top-notch productions regularly mounted by the Weston Playhouse.

"The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged)," which runs through July 7, is a midsummer night's dram of Monty Python, Mel Brooks and Groucho Marx (who even makes an appearance as King Claudius), shaken into a delightful frenzy and poured over the most oft-produced playwright in the English language.

Can one desire too much of a good thing?

Online: www.westonplayhouse.org