In a departure from its usual one-weekend-only schedule, the Chinese Arts Alliance of Nashville (CAAN) will present a repeat performance of its latest dance extravaganza. MuLan & Poetry is a singularly delightful and entertaining event, and it deserves the attention of theatergoers who are looking for something new.
CAAN’s guiding light is choreographer Jen-Jen Lin, whose contribution to Nashville culture in the past few years has extended to work with the Nashville Ballet and the Nashville Shakespeare Festival. Citing “passion, process, connections with people, and humanity” as her inspiration, Lin does yeoman work in overseeing the new production. Besides directing the large dance ensemble, she also creates the costumes (simply stunning in their Asian-flavored beauty) and chooses the music.
In the case of “Qu Yuan,” the evening’s first of three dance pieces, Lin commissioned Taiwanese composer Shueh-Shuan Liu, whose triptych evoking “poem, politics and water” is played with riveting intensity by the Blakemore Trio—so much so that they almost steal the visual show from the onstage dancers, who are led by the lanky but limber Tyner Dumortier.
The keystone piece, “MuLan,” closes out Act 1, and it is preceded by an announcement that reminds us that “MuLan is not a Disney story.” We then get the fifth century tale of the female warrior in nine different colorful scenes, featuring rich traditional Chinese costumes and a splendid mix of dance and martial artistry. (The latter features Justin Chatman and Brandon Kozslowski’s deft wielding of ancient weaponry, called di so gee.) Local actress Wesley Paine provides the warm, illuminating narration, while Jessica Ch’ng enacts the title role with both girlish charm and soldierly pride.
Act 2 comprises the four-part Journey, a potpourri of Chinese, Japanese and contemporary Western dance influenced by early 20th century poet Xhu Zhimo. “To Search for a Bright Star” features Carrie Gerow and Chatman in an ethereal duet dominated by a mesmerizing digital backdrop designed by Guangping Zheng. “Happiness of Snowflakes” finds Kristin Glab, Amy Huffines, Pegah Kadivar and Lisa Spradley flitting to and fro with sprightly zeal. “Sayonara” features a demure, fan-wielding Lin herself in a humorous East vs. West encounter. Finally, “Chance” closes the performance, as seven dancers balance their hip, sexy, modernistic physicality against the music of Koji Sakurai’s Etude No. 23.
Ingram Hall technical director Rudi Aldridge bathes the entire program in radiant high-tech light. MuLan & Poetry is a triumph of multimedia forces and a work of wonderful community spirit.
Feminine mystique
Eighty years ago, British playwright Somerset Maugham was speaking truth to power on the matrimonial front, his female characters confronting the patriarchal social structure long before the word “feminist” came into common usage. Yet the “f” word actually makes an appearance in The Constant Wife, a 1926 opus now receiving earnest treatment by ACT I under the direction of Melissa Bedinger-Hade.
The Constant Wife is a full-bodied—and very talky—three-act play, which seems to veer from drawing-room comedy of manners to position paper on the plight of married women. Here, a doctor’s wife named Constance strives with grace to come to grips with her husband’s philandering. She receives conflicting advice from various quarters—her mother, her sister, a close friend—on how to deal with the situation. Ultimately, she sets out to forge a new path for herself in the world of work and also to entertain the company of a man who has loved her from afar for 15 years.
The women are center stage here throughout, and there’s plenty of wry aphoristic chatter about the nature of love, the typical wife’s lot in life and the weakness of men, the latter stemming from the three main male characters, each a bumbler trumped by superior female wit.
Bedinger-Hade’s direction is generally satisfactory—always congenial but also sometimes devoid of precision and tension. It’s the nature of the script that characters talk and talk at each other, but in this staging opportunities are missed for more realistic human connection. There’s far too much preening and broad declamation, and at times the static blocking lends an artificial air to the proceedings. The fact that the actors’ British accents seem to come and go doesn’t help matters much either.
The performances reveal a hardworking cast, but their efforts meet with mixed results. Kay Ayers-Sowell has the title role, and she handles its many angles—and its sheer weight—with courage and confidence. Her cheating husband is played by Mark J. Thomas, who has a somewhat detatched stage presence; nevertheless, he renders his lines with sincerity. Mary Jane Bowles does better in her role as the husband’s mistress due to the quirkiness of her part. Chris Basso is also very good in his brief turn as a cuckolded husband; his entrance in Act 2 is a welcome tonic to the thus-far staid proceedings.
Less successful are Martha Manning (Constance’s mother), Kellye Mitchell (her sister) and Bob Young (her suitor). They struggle to get comfortable onstage, occasionally delivering a warm or funny bon mot. On the surface, all three look well cast, but the results aren’t there.
This is an inconsistent effort, but there are a few rewards in the acting and certainly in Maugham’s provocative dialogue.
