Kevin Kline – Behind the Proscenium

December 7, 2012November 27, 2017

Lincoln [REVIEW]

Lincoln

With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen

Nothing can bring the fear.

Nothing like the season of the fjord.

We are not lucky (unlucky) in fjords.

We are not Norway.

Sweden not, too, as well (Swedes are pussies so this is in the OK zone).

Yet the tragedy comes. Like winter.

More family drowning while trying to defeat cod.

The cod fight so hard, the winning may never happen.

Yet, I will eat their deep fried flesh. And the herring’s picked bodies.

I am a Finn.

I will fight the fish.

And I will eat.

Why all of this?

Another Mustonenen down. In the drink. Davey Jones’ locker, breathing water until the end.

Sadness makes my brain say “Hells no, ‘Silver Linings Playbook’, when my family has a dead member. Bradley Cooper is still an asshole. And Jennifer Lawrence cannot be lusted after without Jesus being bummed. Thanks for the cock block Jesus.”

So, “Lincoln.”

Plot? Are you giving me the kids?

In the Middle Ages, America chose its leader by height. Lincoln was taller than hell. So he became King of America.

Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis) used his height to look down (like a God) and could somehow read the thoughts of those who were his enemies/friends.

Except he married The Flying Nun before she became annoying (retards, look up the reference).

Finally, America likes her. They really, really like her. But she is a bitch ass shrew. With hair from “Star Wars – Episode 4” (if you’re a nerd who has never kissed a girl or tasted a teat – to real people just damn “Star Wars”).

Anyway, the tallest man in America (who always had a helium suck before talking – squeak – where was James Earl Jones?) held the cards for political poker.

Then the entire movie started to seem like “Midnight Poker” on ESPN. With fake facial hair that could an automobile be purchased.

Luckily, an alcoholic puff-ball named James Spader showed up to make me want to have the drinking of the Kossu and the sweet, sweet smoke.

I had both.

And Tommy Lee Jones had the best hair in the America since Phil Spector. Yet there were no restaurant deaths. Too bad. His love for his woman made things boring.

So, tons of bad hair of the face.

Sweet Jesus, has nothing advanced since “Gettysburg” (worst face hair ever!)?

And casting Bruce McGill… genius, if only for his appearance in best history ever, “FDR: American Badass.” My world would have been completed if he only said, face to camera – “He’s Abraham Lincoln, motherfucker!”

Steven Spielberg has no balls. I believe they belong to Amy Irving.

Thumbs? Pretty damn up. Daniel Day-Lewis plays tall better than any man since Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in “Game of Death.”

I truly in my mind believe that the tallest man (so the greatest man) in America was Abraham Lincoln. He allowed black people to talk and kung-fu Bruce Lee in the chest.

It is a weave that does tangle that American cinema weaves.

My mind is mush. I go back and forth between great cinema and another Finnish family death.

Oh well, Finland can take it in the anal pore. I am an American now and forever. And if tall people rule – well, then Daniel Day-Lewis is my leader forever. He stayed up late and told stories.

Kimmo Mustonenen – (Kimmo On Kino) – Behind The Proscenium

P.S. “Game of Thrones” in three, maybe four months. My excitement hurts. Winter is coming! If my words have no meaning then your mind is potato. Seriously.

March 4, 2011April 26, 2011

Chekhov’s Platonov

This week I had the pleasure to sit down with Heinrich Mantle, the director of the upcoming Manka Black Box theatrical treat Platonov by Anton Chekhov. Mantle has challenged audiences for three decades with his deconstruction and recomposition of many of our most beloved classics. He has repeatedly shown that he has no fear, artistically.

Kyrle Lendhoffer: Heinrich, welcome to Behind The Proscenium.

Heinrich Mantle: My pleasure.

KL: Let me cut to the chase. Why Platonov? Why now?

HM: As for Platonov, why not? It’s never performed. It had an original running time of six hours. Chekhov didn’t even like it compared to his other work. As for why now? Broadway needs Chekhov. But Broadway needs the Chekhov that Chekhov didn’t appreciate. Because even though Broadway needs Chekhov, it doesn’t need regurgitated Chekhov. And speaking of that, if I see Uncle Vanya or The Cherry Orchard one more time with period costumes in a pretty little country villa, I will be physically sick.

KL: But isn’t that what Chekhov intended?

HM: How do we know what Chekhov intended? He is dead! Maybe he would have preferred The Cherry Orchard on the moon. We’ll never know for sure – but we can try!

KL: Tell me about your ideas of conceptual theater.

HM: I believe in bringing fresh, new perspectives to shows that have been – shall we say – heavily produced in the past. And these concepts bring modern audiences directly into the viewing experience, where they’re forced to confront their previously conceived notions, prejudice and feelings of the piece and, most importantly, their own lives.

KL: Like your production of Strange Interlude. It caused quite a controversy.

HM: Strange Interlude was a strange duck indeed! I kept everything in line with Eugene O’Neill’s vision – with one very major change. Instead of the characters turning to the audience to say their internal monologues, another actor – representing a player from the Miami Dolphins 1972 NFL Championship team – would come out say the lines.

KL: Why the 1972 Miami Dolphins?

HM: Who wouldn’t want their deepest thoughts expressed by the only undefeated team in modern NFL history? And, yes, I am including last year’s Super Bowl choking New England Patriots.

KL: I would prefer the 1927 Yankees—

HM: Base-baller!

(Laughter)

KL: So, the character of Marsden was represented by Bob Griese…

HM: And Evans, Larry Csonka. Nina’s inner self was represented by Garo Yepremian.

KL: Nina… by Garo Yepremian?

HM: Who better to represent a woman than a place-kicker?

KL: Wicked!

HM: Indeed…

KL: And then you placed Shakespeare’s The Comedy Of Errors in a Gothic mausoleum. Very bold!

HM: I don’t think audiences were quite ready for that one.

KL: Why a mausoleum?

HM: Think of it like this… you have two sets of twins running around Ephesus, there is confusion, laughter. How do you remind the audience of their own mortality? You surround the play with death!

KL: Doesn’t that damage the comedy?

HM: Exactly! And in the confusion, the audience can then see nothing but the truth!

KL: Amazing.

HM: Thank you.

KL: Back to Platonov. How have you approached this one?

HM: It was difficult. I was tearing apart my brain. You see, normally I find a concept. I work on that concept until it is perfect. Then I find a play that I can force that concept on. In this case, I worked in reverse. I found Platonov, and then I worked on the concept.

KL: And that concept was…?

HM: Thinking about it. Platonov’s life is hanging by a thread. But aren’t all of our lives hanging by threads?!? Then it hit me. The actors would hang from the ceiling with wires – or by a thread! And then as the actor’s relationships changed, they would rise above or below each other as their class status increased or decreased.

KL: Amazing again.

HM: Yes. For example, in a key scene between Platonov and Anna Petrovna, each character moves past each other spatially, or up and down to the layman, seven times. You can actually see where they stand.

KL: Or hang…

HM: Or hang, yes.

KL: Wow. One question – you said the play originally ran six hours. How long are you running now?

HM: After fierce cuts, the show now runs three hours – without an intermission.

KL: And the actors are hanging from wires the entire time?

HM: Yes, they are very dedicated.

KL: How do they use the bathroom?

HM: We’re working on that.

As you can see, Heinrich Mantle isn’t afraid to attack our comfortable views of what theater is. And even more important, what theater SHOULD be. It was a pleasure to interview him (again) for Behind The Proscenium.

Kyrle Lendhoffer – Behind The Proscenium

January 12, 2011April 27, 2011

An Apology From Behind The Proscenium

This is an apology. An online mea culpa. I take the proverbial cat o’nine tails and self flagellate. This is an open apology to the great Zenobia Lassiter.

Last week, I posted an interview and diatribe against her brilliant new work, Pussy. Yes, I said brilliant. I’ve not had time to process what I saw on stage.

I saw her put a fish in her “V” word and felt its power.

I saw her put on a Hitler mustache and read excerpts from Mao’s Little Red Book and now understand what it is to be forced to work retail in a strip mall.

I now know that as I listened to her describe her last colonoscopy that she was in fact talking about our need to vote on a regular basis if we ever hope to sustain democracy.

I had to nerve to say that performance art is neither! I was a Philistine. An ignorant man, who although he lives in a metropolis, has the mind of a plastic suburbanite. If I could find a way to spit on myself, I would.

So, dear Zenobia, here is what I have to say: I couldn’t possibly be more sorry. You are a genius. You are a colossus, and we peep about your feet like insects (I paraphrase my Shakespeare, but you know what I mean).

Zenobia, can you ever forgive me? Will you ever allow me to speak to you again, to sit in your angelic presence and absorb your unabashed brilliance? To be a mortal in the aura of a goddess? Please? Pretty please?

Ha!

The day that I apologize to the likes of you is the day that I buy season tickets to the barbaric New Jersey Devils and their hyper-man-beast NHL. YOU MAKE ME SICK!

Faithful readers, I hope you had a little chortle at my innocent prank.

In a week or so, I will be interviewing some of the artistic minds involved with the Manka Center Stage World Premiere of Tennessee Williams’ lost classic Haunted Alligators. You can see the 1960 film version all this month on Manka Classic Movies.

Yours In Art,
Kyrle Lendhoffer – Behind The Proscenium