A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE

I know—you were expecting to read my thoughts on the Emmys here today.  But I seriously needed a day to process it all, (and to rest-up from all the attendant gifting suites,) so I will share my bon mots on the proceedings with you tomorrow.  (I hope you all enjoyed my live-tweets during the show last night.  If not, maybe you should follow me now, @MajorCelebrity, so you don’t miss out the next time.)

In the meantime, I want to tell you about this interesting show at the Ahmanson Theatre in DTLA, whose opening night I just attended.

No matter what I say here, I’m still recommending A View From The Bridge, for many reasons, which I’ll get to along the way. I didn’t hate it, as many others have admitted to me that they did; it’s just different. And a bit head-scratching. And not my cup of tea, on any level.

But if you just take it on its own merits, I think you’ll appreciate it. No matter which way you go on it, I hope that you at least understand how privileged we Angelenos are to have the opportunity to see an authentic, Tony-winning Broadway production right in our own backyard.

The very first show I saw in my first theatre department (I attended four colleges—don’t ask,) was A View From The Bridge.  As a freshman, I thought that the seniors in the play must be the most grown-up people in the world to be able to portray these sad adults so well.  But, even though I had seen many shows a year with my family for my entire seventeen years of life, this one freaked me out a bit.  I guess my parents had shielded me from dramas about dysfunctional families. Our forte was musical comedy. (I can practically do My Fair Lady word-for-word, different accents included.)

The interesting thing is that, for people who have never seen a production of this play before, (yes—though they’d be wont to admit it, even many cultured peeps have not seen it,) this will be the one against which they judge the “normal” productions they may see in the future! Wow. I would have never recognized this as the same play I saw in college if I had not known the title.

So, as soon as I knew A View From The Bridge was coming here, I was ever so curious to see it again from this side of life.  (And also to see the pared-down staging that won a couple of Tony Awards on Broadway earlier this year.)

But I have to admit that I did not love it. I found many annoyances with this staging, by director Ivo van Hove, even though when I reviewed the Tonys earlier this summer, his is one of the very few acceptance speeches I lauded. So, I’m a fan of his, but perhaps not of his work. Well, of this one, anyway. (Ooo—I’m sure he’s shaking in his boots over that revelation.)

And, nothing to do with this particular production, but I’m also not a fan of Arthur Miller’s always-depressing plays. But I totally get that A View From The Bridge is a timeless, classic story. I just wish that, when researching it for this review, I had not found-out that it’s a true one! Not an upper. The best thing about it, though, is that it reminds each one of us who comes in contact with it just how lucky we are, in general, and how relatively easy we have it in life, no matter our own crosses to bear.

And the show piqued my intellectual curiosity enough for me to have spent many hours researching the play, this perplexing production of it, and the playwright, Arthur Miller, himself, all of them fascinating topics. So, as easy it would have been to dismiss, I’m glad I did not.

And the topic (of immigrants coming into this country illegally for a chance at a better life,) is relevant right now. It could be called The Donald Trump Story—the story of a classless douchebag who wants to deport immigrants, and ruin their lives. (I just hope that the real life saga we’re living through right now has a better ending, with a sane woman leading our triumph over evil.)

Okay, let’s get to what I did not love about this particular production, and then its merits after that.

Most notably, there was a horrible undercurrent of uber-annoying sound, which reminded me of tuvan throat singing. And it played the entire time! I would have given-up every secret I’ve ever had to get them to stop it! It was torture. And there was absolutely no need for it; it added nothing, (except discomfort.) It’s basically the ominous music that’s usually played at the end of movies and TV shows, that signals a depressing end is coming. But we did not need that omen this time—it’s Arthur Miller! We all know a horrible end is coming when we buy our tickets!!!

Here are the other aspects of the show that I disliked, even though I’m sure other reviewers loved the innovations: the bare set that caused location confusion—we didn’t know if it was inside, outside, or elsewhere; that all the actors are barefoot (athlete’s foot, anybody?); that the two real Italian characters, (straight off the boat from Italy,) have no accents!, (and it’s weird—main character Eddie is the only one who even has a Brooklyn accent [and I should know—that’s my ‘hood!,] when they’re all from there!); the sound quality is awful—it’s hard to hear the actors, especially the main guy, although I’ve never had trouble hearing in this theatre before, (so I sort-of felt like I was eavesdropping,) and people around me kept asking each other, “What did he say?,” which made it even harder to make out what they were saying!; the way-too-dark lighting; that time was portrayed terribly; and the awful posture of the actor who played the lawyer. I get very distracted by bad posture, whether it’s on an actor, an athlete, or a regular person—it’s hard for me to listen to what someone’s saying if I keep wanting to pull their shoulders back the whole time they’re talking. But that could be just me.

On the plus side, the staging was interesting, as was the seating of many audience members on both sides of the stage. I think that might have been an attempt to make the cavernous Ahmanson feel a bit more intimate. And on opening night, that entire assemblage was attired in shades of black and gray; there was not even a Steven Spielberg speck of color! It made me wonder if that was a pre-requisite of getting seated there. (That let me out—for some reason unknown even to myself, I was dressed like a clown that night! Maybe my ESP told me to do that, so that I would not have to sit on the stage.)

Also of note, there was a lot of humor in this version, which I did not remember. That’s always good.

Another surprise element is that it was not done as a period piece. I guess it really could have been of today, if there are still shipyard workers in Red Hook. (I’ve only been to that area to eat. Of course.)

Having earned my college degree in Speech and Theatre, I feel like the fact that the young girl character’s wardrobe was the only one with some color has some significance, but I have too much else on my mind these days to spend too many brain cells on figuring that one out. I’ll leave it to you.

All in all, though, I recommend that you see this show, and when you do, just try to get used to the strangeness early on, so that you can go with the flow of the story itself. And just enjoy it for what it is. And who knows—if you’re deeper than I am, (which is not hard to be,) you just may love everything that I did not. As for the actual Brooklyn Bridge, which I’ve been in love with my whole life, I enjoy the view of it much more than the view from it. That just may be why Arthur Miller and I look at life so differently.

A View From The Bridge running through October 16, 2016
Ahmanson Theatre  135 N. Grand Ave.  213-972-4400 www.centertheatregroup.org