2008 Woodie Awards
Life with the Fun King
Louis Virtel - The Daily Iowan
Issue date: 3/8/07 Section: 80 Hours
- Page 1 of 1
I confess: My knowledge of French history extends only as far as Madonna's 1990 Video Music Awards performance of "Vogue."
In an unquestionably accurate representation of French history, Madge fully convinced herself (and, er, dramatic young men such as me) that she was Marie Antoinette - boasting unfathomably white makeup, a breast-smashing corset, and a crisp fan for pose-striking purposes. Not to mention enough male backup dancers in ruffled shirts and hot pants to inspire a generation of - well, just me, again.
I never expected validation for my understanding of the Antoinette era. And then came Versailles, which not only recalls the campy cool of Madonna's performance but evokes her signature sense of excess. And therefore answers my prayers.
The UI theater department's newest Main Stage play, thankfully, is not the sterile representation of life within the Sun King's palace that its rather plain title might imply. Instead, it's a bizarre, satiric string of around two dozen vignettes written by 16 commissioned playwrights (five of whom are M.F.A. playwrights in the department) and coalesced by New York director David Schweizer.
Versailles life is an unending fashion show starring Louis XIV (Jeff Worden), a connoisseur of giant blond wigs, scarlet tights, and photo-shoot lip-puckering from the school of RuPaul. His showboating disciples (among them the decadent John-Michael Rohret as the Marquis d'Effiat and David Russell as the self-appointed court jester) cavort like, yes, backup dancers in some ever-fabulous music video brimming with ham, heavy lighting, and homosexuality - and dark, curly wigs more Donna Summer than Duchy.
The play, almost chronologically, breezes through parodies of Louis XIV, the exasperated suck-up playwright Molière (Chris LaVoie), a bucksome Louis XVI (Nick Garcia), a ditzy Marie Antoinette (played with pseudo-Alicia Silverstone flair by Cara Clonch), and even JFK, who visits the palace with Jackie in a concluding vignette. There's no use trying to keep straight the bevy of supporting roles, which range from painters and janitors to "Madames" and dukes - in the end, they're forgettable, tiresome, and even hindrances to the show's swift brass.
Versailles' willingness to turn Louis XIV's reign into a Dr. Frankenfurter homage is appropriate considering the monarch's notorious self-absorption. We buy the satire's grandiosity. When evaluated on the success of its parodies' broad targets, Versailles is also a success - aesthetically, the set is gorgeously plotted with mammoth, mirrored columns (very Reinvention Tour) and a long catwalk entrance illuminated by oil-painting flourishes and disco floor lights. The costuming also pops: It's a matchy, immaculate collection of white silk blouses and tights.
Acting-wise, Versailles is uneven, but Worden, the undergraduate wunderkind of the department, turns in his most dynamic performance yet: Louis XIV looks like a drag queen, rules like a drag queen, but eventually proves he has the heart of a (surprise, surprise) king. Worden even transforms an inanimate doll into one of the play's most memorable characters late in the second act. Equal parts hilarious and touching, the scene makes up for some of Versailles' drier moments - including that JFK "Camelot" scene, which adds nothing to the play's fun and froth. Or any of the play's three boring Charlie Rose sketches that try to bring modern perspective to the show's subject matter.
In the playbill, Schweizer acknowledges, "We are not really going to give you a history lesson with this show." No, but we are revisiting something: an unabashed exercise in theatricality à la Paris is Burning that totally trumps the last UI season's awful collaborative effort, W. David Hancock's The Puzzle Locker. Versailles restores faith in the UI's ability to corral local and national talent without alienating audiences.
You'll love Versailles most when you coast on its lush visual splendor and sharp caricatures while forgiving its epic length and exhausting list of minor roles - if my historical memory serves me right, I believe the sentiment is, "Let your body go with the flow."
E-mail DI editor Louis Virtel at:
Louis-virtel@uiowa.edu
Wanna know more?
To check ticket availability and order tickets for Versailles online, use the Hancher website
In an unquestionably accurate representation of French history, Madge fully convinced herself (and, er, dramatic young men such as me) that she was Marie Antoinette - boasting unfathomably white makeup, a breast-smashing corset, and a crisp fan for pose-striking purposes. Not to mention enough male backup dancers in ruffled shirts and hot pants to inspire a generation of - well, just me, again.
I never expected validation for my understanding of the Antoinette era. And then came Versailles, which not only recalls the campy cool of Madonna's performance but evokes her signature sense of excess. And therefore answers my prayers.
The UI theater department's newest Main Stage play, thankfully, is not the sterile representation of life within the Sun King's palace that its rather plain title might imply. Instead, it's a bizarre, satiric string of around two dozen vignettes written by 16 commissioned playwrights (five of whom are M.F.A. playwrights in the department) and coalesced by New York director David Schweizer.
Versailles life is an unending fashion show starring Louis XIV (Jeff Worden), a connoisseur of giant blond wigs, scarlet tights, and photo-shoot lip-puckering from the school of RuPaul. His showboating disciples (among them the decadent John-Michael Rohret as the Marquis d'Effiat and David Russell as the self-appointed court jester) cavort like, yes, backup dancers in some ever-fabulous music video brimming with ham, heavy lighting, and homosexuality - and dark, curly wigs more Donna Summer than Duchy.
The play, almost chronologically, breezes through parodies of Louis XIV, the exasperated suck-up playwright Molière (Chris LaVoie), a bucksome Louis XVI (Nick Garcia), a ditzy Marie Antoinette (played with pseudo-Alicia Silverstone flair by Cara Clonch), and even JFK, who visits the palace with Jackie in a concluding vignette. There's no use trying to keep straight the bevy of supporting roles, which range from painters and janitors to "Madames" and dukes - in the end, they're forgettable, tiresome, and even hindrances to the show's swift brass.
Versailles' willingness to turn Louis XIV's reign into a Dr. Frankenfurter homage is appropriate considering the monarch's notorious self-absorption. We buy the satire's grandiosity. When evaluated on the success of its parodies' broad targets, Versailles is also a success - aesthetically, the set is gorgeously plotted with mammoth, mirrored columns (very Reinvention Tour) and a long catwalk entrance illuminated by oil-painting flourishes and disco floor lights. The costuming also pops: It's a matchy, immaculate collection of white silk blouses and tights.
Acting-wise, Versailles is uneven, but Worden, the undergraduate wunderkind of the department, turns in his most dynamic performance yet: Louis XIV looks like a drag queen, rules like a drag queen, but eventually proves he has the heart of a (surprise, surprise) king. Worden even transforms an inanimate doll into one of the play's most memorable characters late in the second act. Equal parts hilarious and touching, the scene makes up for some of Versailles' drier moments - including that JFK "Camelot" scene, which adds nothing to the play's fun and froth. Or any of the play's three boring Charlie Rose sketches that try to bring modern perspective to the show's subject matter.
In the playbill, Schweizer acknowledges, "We are not really going to give you a history lesson with this show." No, but we are revisiting something: an unabashed exercise in theatricality à la Paris is Burning that totally trumps the last UI season's awful collaborative effort, W. David Hancock's The Puzzle Locker. Versailles restores faith in the UI's ability to corral local and national talent without alienating audiences.
You'll love Versailles most when you coast on its lush visual splendor and sharp caricatures while forgiving its epic length and exhausting list of minor roles - if my historical memory serves me right, I believe the sentiment is, "Let your body go with the flow."
E-mail DI editor Louis Virtel at:
Louis-virtel@uiowa.edu
Wanna know more?
To check ticket availability and order tickets for Versailles online, use the Hancher website
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