What a marvel

I’m about as Marvel-illiterate as an American baby boomer can get. Comic books never crossed my radar as a child, and nearly everything I know of comic book characters comes from covering Comicon events from Phoenix to NYC.

I first encountered the origin stories of great comic book heroes at an exhibit inside the gallery of my local public library, so my big screen encounter with the imagined early life of Spider-Man came without the baggage that seems to have bogged down so many others.

“The Amazing Spider-Man” reads like a simple love story to those not yet initiated into all things Marvel, and it’s plenty entertaining as such. Once bitten by a spider, a teen smitten with the police chief’s daughter develops super-human powers that set the dad versus date dynamic in motion.

But he’s got his own daddy issues too. Both parents disappeared after leaving their boy with the relatives who go on to raise him. Seems they’d forgotten all about a briefcase left behind until it’s rescued after a plumbing mishap. Its contents set the adventures of Spider-Man in motion.

The teen twice discovers that using his newfound powers for revenge yields bitter results, and manages instead to yield them for good — waging a fierce battle with a scientist who once worked with is father but nowadays seeks a cross-species solution for his own partial limb.

I’d have been frightened out of my wits had I witnessed this story arc as a child. Sleeping after my first run in with “Creature from the Black Lagoon” was tough enough. And there’s little reason for kids to see the film’s many slugfests infused with a heavy dose of shoot ’em up, bang bang. “The Amazing Spider-Man” is rated PG-13.

It’s a fun two-hour romp through Marvel world for teens and up who appreciate fast-paced action sequences and familiar NYC settings like subways and streets lined with towering office buildings. Andrew Garfield (Spider-man/Peter Parker) rocks the acting vibe but Emma Stone (Gwen Stacy) gets too few chances to really shine. Enough with the long legs and go-go boots already.

The cast also includes Rhys Ifans (The Lizard/Dr. Curt Connors), known to folks who saw the Shakespeare authorship flick “Anonymous” as the Earl of Oxford. Plus Denis Leary (Captain Stacy), Martin Sheen (Uncle Ben) and Sally Field (Aunt May). Max Charles is the young Peter Parker.

Messages abound, but they’re blissfully brief. Think responsibility, rather than choice. Secrets have a cost, and they’re not free. If you break it, fix it. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Beware the perils of seeking perfection. Never be a bystander.

Lizabeth came home from a father/daughter outing last night armed with two black t-shirts sporting Batman logos. Looks like there’s more homework on my horizon, since the next “Dark Knight” film lands in theaters later this month. So many super-heros, so little time.

— Lynn

Coming up: Art meets frontier life

Musings on Mr. Marmalade

Don't click here. For tickets visit http://www.venue104.com.

Normally my daughter Lizabeth is the roving reporter, seeing shows on Broadway and sharing vivid details that help me feel like I was sitting in the seat right beside her.

Most recently, it was “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark.” She’d had a mildly heated discussion the day before with a classmate who’d seen the show and loved it. Lizabeth felt certain it wasn’t all that swell, but had a hard time making her case having never been to the show.

Soon she’d landed a discounted ticket, and off she went. When Lizabeth called home with her “review,” her dad got to the phone first — translating her take on “Spider-Man” to me as follows: “She felt wounded to the very depths of her theatrical soul.” Not good.

Tonight I was roving reporter for Lizabeth, heading to Venue 104 in Tempe for the debut, a preview really, of their very first theater season — a series of four works starting with a dark comedy by playwright Noah Haidle, who hails from Grand Rapids but has degrees from both Princeton and Juilliard.

It’s called “Mr. Marmalade” and it’s being performed at Venue 104 Fri, Sept 16 to Sat, Oct 1 (tonight was a “pay what you can” tech/dress rehearsal). It’s a mature audience work, so you’ll want to hire a babysitter — then hope she bears no resemblance to babysitter “Emily” in the show.

I was apprehensive going into “Mr. Marmalade.” Several reviews I’d read about the “dark comedy” stressed dark over funny. It’s full of disturbing themes including abuse and suicide — but it’s one of the funniest works I’ve seen in a long time. This production is directed by Tim Shawver.

Four-year-old Lucy has imaginary friends, and spends much of her time in pretend play that mirrors the lives of the adults who populate her world. But Lucy is different than her grown-ups. She’s assertive, standing up for both herself and others instead of playing the victim.

“Mr. Marmalade” is full of playful nostalgia — with songs, toys, fashion and sayings that’ll take you right back to decades your college-age kids aren’t old enough to remember but you’re still too young to forget. Nobody would actually snort cocaine off an Etch-a-Sketch anymore. That’s so 1980s.  

Venue 104 — dubbed a “performance cafe” by owner Michael Peck — is a perfect setting for such works. Audience members sit close to stage level, so you lose that “fourth wall” feeling. The wall we sometimes build between ourselves and other theater-goers falls away as well, making performance art a communal experience it’s hard to find in larger houses.

“Mr. Marmalade,” which runs just over an hour, features a seven member cast. All are superb. The material explores some serious questions. Whether loneliness or being alone is the lesser of two evils. Why playing doctor dissolves so easily into playing house. Still, the work feels more romp than requiem.

Maybe it was all that Kidz Bop music playing before the show. I sent Lizabeth a text with the names of a couple of the songs, picturing her rolling those baby blues behind new purple glasses. Seems similar music was blasting in the common suite near her dorm room at the time. At least now she feels grateful it’s not being sung by six year olds.

— Lynn

Note: For show information or tickets, visit Venue 104 at www.venue104.com. Please remember that this is a mature content play not suitable for young audiences.

Coming up: My brief brush with “American Idol”

Shrek: I’m a believer

Scene featuring Shrek, Donkey and Princess Fiona

I ran into Colleen Jennings-Roggensack and Kurt Roggensack after the opening night performance of “Shrek the Musical” at ASU Gammage in Tempe.

She’s the executive director for ASU Gammage, while he’s an ASU volcanologist. I was there with my 17-year-old daughter, Lizabeth.

It looked at the time like a volcano had just erupted in the theater, as children scurried to and fro trying to capture a few of the large circles of green and silver confetti released during the show’s final number — the song “I’m a Believer,” composed by Neil Diamond and recorded by the Monkees in 1966. (It’s the Smash Mouth cover that you hear during the 2001 movie “Shrek.”)

“I didn’t want to like it,” I confessed to Jennings-Roggensack. “But now I’m a believer!” We agreed that, although the musical is plenty fun for kids, it seemed at times that the adults might be having the most fun. As we chatted, a silver-haired woman walked by — unaware she was sporting confetti in her gorgeous locks.

Lord Farquaad isn't phased by talking cookies like Gingy

It’s hard to pin down the intended audience of this baby. Unlike some works that integrate youth and adult material with ease, “Shrek” seems to skip back and forth between the two.

It leaves the show, though perfectly enjoyable, feeling a bit choppy and disjointed. At times, it reads like a sparkling Las Vegas extravaganza. But sometimes it’s just a simple fairy tale.

To the credit of playwright David Lindsay-Abair and the rest of the musical’s creative team, “Shrek the Musical” isn’t a mere rehashing of the “Shrek” movies. The same characters are there, but the story has more layers — much like the onion Shrek uses to show his new friend Donkey that he’s more complicated than he appears.

Princess Fiona sparkles like Las Vegas royalty with her tap dancing rats

So is Lindsay-Abair, whose work you might have seen in movie theaters of late. He’s the playwright and screenwriter for “Rabbit Hole” — originally a play, which earned a Pulitzer Prize in Drama.

“Shrek” is great fun for those who enjoy the occasional homage or parody of favorite fairy tales or Broadway musicals. Think “Wicked,” “Les Mis,” “Lion King,” “HAIR” and more.

I’m certain I heard echos of “Rent” and “Hairspray” tunes, but Lizabeth tells me I’m merely “ovethinking things again.” I found myself wishing they’d found a way to incorporate “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark,” but perhaps that would have been in poor taste.

Can you hear Pinocchio sing?

The show is heavy with messages and morality tales. I suspect they’re too complex for younger theater-goers, yet a tad too sappy for the more mature crowd. “What makes us special,” we’re often told, “is what makes us strong.”

Tear down your walls. Don’t judge. Things aren’t always what they seem. Don’t fear something just because you don’t understand it. My favorite number, “Freak Flag,” is a high-energy celebration of diversity.

Still, Lizabeth and I agreed that we might enjoy the show more if it ran a bit shorter — closer to 90 minutes or so. Though I certainly wouldn’t want the job of deciding which scenes to cut. It’s best, I suppose, that producers never think to call for my opinion on such matters.

The four lead actors — Eric Petersen (Shrek), Haven Burton (Princess Fiona), Alan Mingo, Jr. (Donkey) and David F. M. Vaughn (Lord Farquaad) — were well matched in terms of talent, with each showing particular strengths. Sadly, the full measure of Petersen’s vocal talent isn’t revealed until well into the second act.

Four puppeteers operate this magnificent flying dragon

Other vocal powerhouses in this production include Carrie Compere (Dragon, Mama Ogre, Tweedledum), who dedicates her performance to the memory of her mother — leading me to surmise that her mom was a blissful blend of joyous and strong. Also Aymee Garcia (Mama Bear, Gingy), whose gingerbread cookie is smart and sassy. (Think “Eat me!”)

My favorite scenes featured Fiona’s entourage of tap dancing rats, a Shrek and Fiona burp-fest, and Shrek’s anthem to self-doubt titled “When Words Fail.” Plus anything and everything involving puppetry — especially the dragon scene — which you’ll appreciate even more if you’ve seen the fine work of our own local Great Arizona Puppet Theater.

See if your children can figure out the mechanics of Lord Farquaad's short stature and nimble legs

Puppetry on this grand scale requires athleticism and agility, and you’d be wise to extend the fun at home by having plenty of puppets at the ready so your child can act out his or her own stories.

Laptime with favorite fairy tales may also surge in popularity at your house after you’ve experienced this show with your kids.

You might also want to revisit the “Shrek” films — as well as the “Shrek” book written by William Steig (first published in 1990). It’s fun to find and talk about differences in various tellings of a single story.

When all is said and done, I suppose you’d have to say that I’m a believer.

— Lynn

Note: “Shrek the Musical” (Book and lyrics by David Lindsay-Abaire, Music by Jeanine Tesori) runs at ASU Gammage in Tempe through Jan 9. Click here to see “Gammage Goer” reviews of “Shrek” and other ASU Gammage productions.

Coming up: Expert tips on college theater program auditions

Musings on “Spider-Man”

Plenty of musical theater fans are sending good vibes to the cast, crew and creative team of “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark” — which recently started previews on Broadway only to be plagued by a series of mishaps and misfortunes.

As a longtime fan of musical theater and other performance art, I’m pausing today to remember the artists and families facing some particularly dark days.

And to share an audience member perspective, so those of you who work musical theater magic on-stage and behind-the-scenes will know what folks like me do and don’t expect when we buy tickets to your shows.

It’s all about the storytelling. If your storyline is compelling and your characters are engaging, we’re happy campers. No circus arts, acrobatics or flying needed. No smoke, mirrors or bungee cords required.

Talented actors, singers and dancers will do the trick. No need for television or movie stars, unless they also happen to be skilled in theater craft. No need for big-name musicians or vocalists, or those with heavy humanitarian street cred.

No need for film or comic book tie-ins. No robots. No clever placement of cell phones or netbooks required. No flashing lights, disarming noises or other features I can power at home if I just acquire enough batteries or voltage.

America was once the imagination nation. But nowadays we’re all about the bells and whistles. And so, to those of you in musical theater, I offer this: Don’t encourage them.

Bigger is not always better. Bolder doesn’t have to mean brighter. Brilliant needn’t be boisterous. Make it shine, but keep it simple.

Consider the case of the Tassimo Brewbot. It’s enough for me that it makes a fab assortment of coffee drinks. I can live without a caffeine robot.

Only those who’ve forgotten the simple pleasures of sipping a strong brew are disappointed to learn that the darn thing can’t do their laundry.

Musical theater, when all is said and done, is a supremely human enterprise.

So no worries if recent events mean we all need to scale it back a bit in terms of superhuman expectations for our performance art.

I still love a good circus, but when I take my seats for a Broadway show — I merely wish to be transported to another place and time. I needn’t get there by space craft or other far-fetched means.

And I surely don’t want artists risking their own lives to take me there.

— Lynn