The Michigan Doily-Saturday, October 22, 1977-Page 5 Mengershausen dreams ... r S it lYl By KAREN BORNSTEIN Who says you must be sleeping to enter a dream world? Just walk into the Alice Simsar Gallery and you enter a world of dreamy, ethereal and mysterious ethchings and gou- aches of western American desert country, sensitively created by Cor- nelia von Mengershausen. Von Mengershausen, born in Bayr- ishzell, Germany in 1945, studied at the School of Applied Arts in Basel, Switzerland and the Academy and University of Munich. She is present- ly living in Rancho Santa Fe, Califor- nia, this area being the primary im- petus for her most recent landscape works, on view until Nov. 9. Although von Mengershausen is relatively young for an established artist (only 33 years old), she has displayed her work in seven one- woman exhibitions and six group exhibitions all over the world. She has also just completed a book en- titled (K'ehgosone), consisting of Indian verses and illustrations. Von Mengerhausen's works reveal her personal response to landscapes. She often explores cliffs, gullies, water-created erosions and shadows in a series. Her delicate use of limited earth-toned colors, and slightly abstract, often non-descript, forms, creates landscapes which are incredibly quiet, intimate and subtle- ly blurred. They contain the qualities of both fantasy and reality, apparent in a mirage or dream image. In examining all of her landscape interpretations, two characteristics are evident that interact to make the works interesting and beautifully unique. The spatial depth and airi- ness, along with the splashes of faded color evoke a very general, overall, hazy impression of the various rock and land masses, far in the distance. Yet, upon closer inspection, there is also an incredible degree of detail. Numerous needle-thin, black etched, lines constitute one rock, and every possible gradation in shade of her basic black, gray and beige is explored. These shades of color genMr dif- fuse together, delicately feeding into the faded, washed background. Such ultra fine detail in her relatively small works, mostly 11x14 or small- er, also makes von Mengershausen's landscapes a personal and intimate statement about the tranquil hush of the desert, speaking to the viewer on a one-to-one basis. Von Mengershausen explores the same landscape theme with the two mediums of etching and gouache. 'The etching, Shadowscape II, is one of the most realistic etchings of the collection, although it still plays with abstract forms in shadow and rock. Like all of her works, there are no hard or perfectly straight edges. The lines are always sensitively drawn capes with a slight waver or variation. Even the .edges of her paper are neatly ripped, intensifying additional softness while avoiding angular, cold and precise lines or corners. Harsh, vivid colors are also ex tinct. The soft grays, blacks, tans and whites gently roll into one another4 fading in and out of dominance. Th4 evokes the feeling of movement but more specifically, the subtle move- ment of mysterious shadows across the desert. Shadowscape V is a gouache; a painting in which the paint consisten- cy is so incredibly thin and opaque, that many layers of different smudged color are distinguishable. It is evident from the many shades of transparent color, that von Mengers- hausen is not even interested i creating a literal interpretation, bui rather in creating the general visual distortions that evolve when gazing at shadows from afar. However, she still maintains her amazing ability to combine the general and the intimate by allowing the masses of moving colors t evolve into the most personal, intri> cate patterns and textures, recogniz able only when standing one foot away from the work. All of Cornelia von Mengershau sen's landscapes are uninhabited andi have no suggestion of civilization whatsoever by means of roads or villages. They are landscapes sb removed that no one could evet inhabit them. ..r.r.wr r EMU's new 'Kabuki Oedipus' By DAVID LEWIS Jocasta stands transfixed, both un- willing mother and unknowing wife to Oedipus. The flowered kimono falls away, revealing beneath it "Shirosozoku", the white ceremonial clothes of death. The Oriental aura transcends traditional Sophocles. You are seeing Kabuki Oedipus, Eastern Michigan University drama professor Robert McElya's bold at- tempt to assimilate Japan's most spectacular dramatic form into the world of Western theatre. Kabuki is the theatre of the larger than life. McElya has divided his lines between characters and his own version of Kabuki. The result: Oedipus speaks before the citizens of Thebes, and a moment later, the chorus voices his unspoken thoughts. Exposed to oriental "theatre in classes at the University of Wiscon- sin, McElya became interested in applying Eastern drama to Western theatre. His colleagues suggested it was time to try a production on stage, so he decided on Oedipus. Greek drama is highly ritualistic, as is Kabuki. There is the same sort of acting style. One wonders how much of the trappings of "Japanese" drama could have been left out. This would leave the focus on the concepts and approaches to dramatic presenta- tion that underly the surfaces of Kabyki. "One great thing about using Japanese techniques is that it begins to dawn on the cast that, no matter what kind of acting theyare doing, they have to work hard at it". McElya let them work things out on their own. He gave them books of Japanese prints to the chorus and -, by WCBN and "g' Michigan Union BIG BAND ~ AUDITIO or763 1s_ 9 told them to "find a pose you like, then strike it." He feels that his young actors, while not always succeeding, have made a bold attemrpt to meet the challenges, or rather the opportuni- ties of the Kabuki style. When Oedipus and Creon (the prophet) ride' a chorus crescendo into the fiery dramatic tableau, their emotional intensity etched in frozen movement, one has a sense of what he means. APPhoto Plenty yoks Conductor Leonard Bernstein (right) shares a laugh with Mstislav Rostro- povich at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washing- ton last Tuesday as they prepare for a performance. Modlatrig WEEKEND SCHEDULE "" A BOY AND HIS DOG-97r A super science fiction film about survival in a post atomic wilderness. "An incredibly hilarious and terrifyng vision of future earth." FRI OCT. 21-7:30 and 9:15 ' THE PAPER CHASE The all time favorite about law school at Harvard and what to " do with the degree. SAT. OCT. 22-7:30 and 9:30 All films in-NATURAL SCIENCE AUD.-$1SO5 'Rolling Thunder' : " First of I x :: new wave Vietnam war flicks BY C. MICHAEL POTTER Rolling Thunder, currently on view at the Michigan Theater, is if nothing else a kind of film landmark - it is the first entry on an already long list of movies about to descend upon us dealing directly or obliquely with the Vietnam War and participants therein. The list ranges all the way from Francis Coppola's already celebrated, much-delayed Apoca- lypse Now to some Henry Winkler-starring farce, the name of which perhaps fortunately escapes me. This sudden flood of Southeast Asia retrospectives marks an abrupt reversal in the attitude of major domestic film- makers, who heretofore habitually shied away from Viet- nam-connected material in fear that the American public wasn't willing to pay to watch recreations of a national nightmare only recently removed from us. Well, if Rolling Thunder is any indication of works to come, then the bigwigs' paranois over potential controversy is unfounded; Holly- wood's traditional kid-gloves treatment of anything and everything may succeed in trivializing even this dark night of the national soul into so much slam-bang two-fisted pablum. Rolling Thunder soft-focuses on the reorientation dilem- ma of Major Charles Rane (William Devane), just returned to his home in Texas after seven years in a North Vietnamese prison camp. I wouldn't presume to know what such a pro- tracted period of physical torture, emotional chaos and con- suming deprivation of all that is familiar and good would do to a person, but obviously the effect would be profound and perhaps unerasable. We are all familiar with the still- ongoing incidents involving murder, suicide and psychic dis- integration among many of our repatriated POWs; obviously it involves a mass malady of long-range manisfestation alarming enough to merit a sober, intimate cinematic ap- praisal of what has happened and what is to be done. Alas, American filmdom has rarely been given to intimacy. Rolling Thunder'turns out to be merely the latest install- ment in the rancidly enduring Revenge Film genre, a move- ment initiated by the powerful, repellently creative Walking Tall and since perpetuated by a couple of dozen in- ferior, septic (thought money-making) imitators. Encased in the revenge formula, Rolling Thunder's Vietnam backdrop ultimately proves even more incidental to its plot than Bruce Dern's POW psychosis was to Black Sunday. For all that happens in this film, Thunder's protagonist could just as easily be a wronged truck driver, a put-upon sheriff or any of the other nouveau-traditional stereotypes of the getting-even ilk.. Its eye ravenously on the box office, Rolling Thunder pulls all its punches figuratively while it throws as many as it can literally. The first third or so of the film deals super- ficially with the domestic reconditioning problems common to many POWs: Rane's cultural shock at the seven-year changes in our social mores, his constrained attempts to get to know his son whom he remembers only as an infant, his. belated discovery that his wife loves another man and plans to get a divorce. There is one good, on-target scene acidly depicting Rane's barely disguised disgust over a garish, Cadillac- awarding welcome home ceremony. But otherwise little is revealed about our protagonist's inner workings other than his outer image as an emotionless, burned-out zombie, say- the celuloid dregs of the eye-for-an-eye syndrome, never again to extricate itself. Our hero finds himself accosted in his house by four thugs bent on stealing a $2,500 silver dollar prize awarded Rane to commemorate each day of his Vietnam incarcera- tion. He won't tell them where the loot is, so the refined four- some tries to loosen his tongue by chopping up his hand in his garbage disposal. Rane remains silent, but his just-arrived wife and kid quickly spill the beans over the money's location. This proves a bad strategic move, as the bandits proceed to gun down all three of them, wife and son fatally. Rane makes a slow hospital recovery, then, equipped with an artificial hook for a right hand, begins a predictably obsessed quest to hunt down the four culprits. The film may be weakly implying that violence, whether war-borne or domestic, is inescapable and all one can ultimatgely do is strike back. But the parallel is fuzily drawn at best and cer- tainly secondary to the sheer cathartic bloodlust endemic to Revenge Cinema. You could hear the Michigan audience fairly excrete with anticipation as Rane finally sets out on his gory trackdown. Rolling Thunder does nothing to disappoint the fanatics. Its violence is carved out with a graphic expertise more ac- complished than in most run-of-the-mill revenge flicks, if that can be said to be a compliment. Naturally, Rane's hand hook is converted into a lethal weapon; along the course of his search, we get treated to captivating shots of the hook impaling a man's hand to a table, later on thrusting itself into another victim's crotch. The film sails mindlessly through other gruesomely in- ventive killings and dismemberments, climaxing with an armageddon shootout in a Mexican whorehouse. While bloat- ed Johns and naked women flee their approach, Rane and a fellow ex-POW (Tommy Lee Jones) wipe out the bad guys, then stagger victoriously out ofrthescrimson inferno as the picture's credits abruptly wheel across the screen. Despite the physical exertion employed, all the assorted executions are carried out with a splendiferous lack of emotion by both heroes and villains. An existential morality play, perhaps (we are all helpless victims)? Not likely. The Revenge Film cultists demand a minimum level of personali- ity attached to their protagonists' physiques, and screen- writer Paul Schrader has complied alarmingly with their wishes. Possibly he needed the money, but for whatever reason Schrader has penned what amounts to an intellectu- ally blunted, poverty-class version of his own Taxi Driver, and he ought to be ashamed of himself. Devane, a splendid character actor given his first starring role, is simply the wrong type to play a semi-cata- tonic. Devane excels in energy and emotional movement in films, and his enshackelment here in the severe limitations of his character render the part even less revealing and in- teresting than Rane would be had a more inner-directed ac- tor played the role. Tommy Lee Jones is more successful as Rane's partner-in-arms; a silent meditative performer of fascinating promise, Jones somehow managed to emerge un- scathed from last year's otherwise execable Jackson County Jail, and would surely have turned Rane into a more pul- satingly quixoticfigure than Devane does. But best of all is Linda Haynes as a young blonde who befriends (and loves) Rane early on, then becomes his semi- reluctant companion through the maze of his vigilante chase. 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