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The Rude Mechanicals' Dionysus in 69 is a charming exercise in illustrative theatre historiography, one that captivates us by illustrating how sincere, how naive and how lucky we were to be living back in the dark, dark days of 1968.
Back in 1968, the Performance Group's interpretation of Euripides' The Bacchae resounded with the times. Their canny staging of the ancient classic about violence, ritual, unknowing and ecstasy scandalized conventional citizens and captured the imagination of the young -- that earnest generation of forty years ago who were about the age of the Austin's Rude Mechanicals today.
The nudity sold the show then, and the Rudes' press photos suggest that they understand well that aspect of the marketing. And these young folk are without exception all very handsome in their skins, displayed confidently and unselfconsciously in key group rituals portraying of birth, death, and murder.
The Rudes' re-enactment is based on films of the original and it benefits from workshops and discussions with Richard Schechner, director of that path-breaking production. Schechner is now a chunky eminence grise, a venerable elder and NYU professor. He was invited to Austin by UT's Humanities Institute and was scheduled for a discussion and talk-back for the second performance on Friday, December 4.
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It's clever. It's mythic. It's melodic. It's multimedia.
It's the Rude Mechanicals still-in-workshop production of I've Never Been So Happy with book and lyrics by Kirk Lynn and music by Peter Stopchinsky, who also sings the part of the mountain lion.
But it's short and it's incomplete. By design, it will leave you wanting more.
The Rude Mechanicals have made for themselves an enviable place in the bubbling world of Austin's young non-Equity original-works theatres.
The Rudes are highly creative. They've done 22 original productions since inventing themselves in 1995, building a reputation, a following and support. They are not a high-volume theatre company, despite their six co-producing artistic directors, 28 company members, 88 business partners and an impressive array of individual supporters.
They've survived and triumphed by learning networking and grantsmanship. The Rudes succeeded in getting grant funding for this Western operetta fable from the National Endowment for the Arts, both directly and as part of the subsequent anti-recession stimulus package. The show is part of the NEA's new play development project, coordinated by the Arena Stage in Washington DC. Last December they did a workshop production in Austin of the early scenes of the play. They've worked parts of it further at the Orchard Project in the Catskills and last June with the UT Department of Theatre and Dance.
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So what, exactly, is the Method Gun?
The short, obvious and wrong answer is that it's the loaded pistol that is secured in a birdcage by a troupe of intense, troubled actors. And like any loaded pistol that features in stage action, it will, eventually be used (cf., "the loaded gun theory").
That piece of hardware is a gun, but it's not The Method Gun except in a very minor, representational way.
The ensemble makes us at home for the show, opening the house early and providing piano music, a compendium of sentimental ballads keyed out carefully by a cast member. "Stardust," "Red Sails in the Sunset, "Alfie," "I Will Wait for You," pieces relatively appropriate for the early 1970s setting of the action, played about as well as I might play them after 30 years away from the keyboard.
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