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Live' waves The 1940 s Radio Hoaur Professional Theatre Program Power Center 8 p.m. Friday-Sunday, March 4-6, 8 p.m. Friday-Saturday, March and 8 p.m. Sunday, March 6. By Coleen Egan audience clap designated times. or laugh at the 2 p.m. 4-5, 2 T HE IDEA OF using radio for pur- poses other than commercial or military was out of the question before 1920. That year, the election returns in which Harding defeated Cox for the United States presidency were broad- cast to an audience near 1,000. Home radio sets immediately became the popular time to buy and people played with them until they tired of just trying to receive a signal from far away. They wanted to be entertained. Radio soon became the entertain- ment medium through endorsements and advertising, with dramatic presen- tations and its own star system. It made big bands and individual musicians famous and presented dramatic news coverage. It also put America in tough with personalities that were larger than life. The 1940s Radio Hour, a Broadway musical-comedy written by Walton Jones, recreates what home audiences never saw and places the audience in touch with radio's most sparkling era at the Power Center March 4-6. Radio Hour reproduces a live radio broadcast at Christmas time in 1942 complete with a give-away contest and a stage manager who requests that the Father figure The Father Professional Theatre Program Trueblood Arena, Frieze Building 105 S. State 8 p.m., Monday, March 7-Sunday, March 13 By Julie Bernstein E ACH YEAR hundreds of aspiring, anxious, ready-to-perform actors and actresses can be found hanging around the Frieze building waiting for audition sign-up sheets to be posted. The major auditioning pool here at Michigan is as diverse as they come - ranging from high school majorettes to biology students to theater majors at the undergraduate and graduate levels. The latter group includes many students working toward a Master of Fine Arts degree in a newly-developed three-year acting program. The. training involved revolves around daily, Performers imitating stars such as Frank Sinatra and Frankie Vallee in hair style, costume, song, and stance remind the audience of the, popular music and star performers that remained the most important elements of radio programming. And the comedy routines in the show hint at the essential part they played in the lives of people in the nation trying hard to forget their economic woes. Dancers do the jitterbug, the studio' orchestra plays songs made famous by Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, Artie Shaw, and others, and singers croon tunes such as "I'll Never Smile Again," "I Got It Bad,"and "I'll Be Seeing You." In addition to the entertainment of the era, Radio Hour also captures the patriotism and sentimentality of American life during World War II when radio played a major role in disseminating the propaganda which would unite the nation against the enemies. The advertisers who helped the net- work shape radio into the most enter- taining selling medium of the time are not forgotten either. The show attempts to convey the corny fun of commercials about products popular during the '30s and '40s, including Chiquita Banana, Eskimo Pie, and Pepsi Cola. With all the ingredients, Radio Hour theater audience is led to believe it is actually sitting in the Algonquin room- of the Hotel Astor in New York City's Times Square. They are an active part of the popular "Mutual Manhattan Variety Calvalcade" program being broadcast by WOV. The show comes to Ann Arbor following a successful two-month run in Dallas which helped spark the current eight-month national tour. It first opened on Broadway in 1979. The 1940s Radio Hour swings with the Troub le boy Trouble in Paradise Randy Newman Warner Bros. By Michael Baadke T'M DIFFERENT, and I don't care who knows it, Randy Newman sings. Well, that's getting to the point in record time, and in Mr. Newman's case it's about as accurate as yo" can get. His sentiments are echoed by a super- bly over-sweet chorus featuring Linda Ronstadt, Wendy Waldman and Jen- nifer Warnes: when Randy sings "Ain't gonna play no goddamn game," they blushingly respond with "gosh darn game." Trouble In Paradise. Ronstadt and friends aren't the only stars to show up on Newman's latest effort: Bob Seger and Don Henley con- tribute vocally to a little rock-n-roll weirdness entitled "Take Me Back." Lindsey Buckingham and Christine McVie sing along with Randy when he claims "I Love L.A." But the best guest shot is easily Paul Simon's co-lead vocals on "The Blues," playing straight man to Newman's set- up. "Wait, until you hear this sap," Newman implies, as he reels off an in- tro chock-full of personal disasters at- tributed to Simon. And with perfectly over-wrought pathos, Simon begins to warble, When I was nine years old / My daddy ran away. .. The verse is tailor-made for Simon's best timorous vocals, and Newman, as always, pin- points the problem immediately: "He's got the blues, this boy/Has really got the blues." Although he's best known for his humor (evidenced in his 1977 hit, "Short People"), some of Randy Newman's finest compositions are serious and sometimes tragic in nature. "Sail Away," from the album of the same name, will always stand as a landmark work for him; it's a narrative of the treachery and deceit used to convince prospective slaves of a paradise awaiting them in the New World. "Christmas inCapetown," from the new album, is a song filled with the anger and hatred that seems to resonate from that South African city. The racist epithets dispensed by a white resident seem blunted by his own con- fusion, however: he asks, "What are we gonna do, blow up the whole damn country?/I don't know." The jaded hostility and fear aren't easy to contend with, and Newman offers no false hope of resolution. As the title despairingly promises, Trouble in Paradise comes true more than once on this album. With "Same Girl," a portrait of love that nears adoration carries with it the harshest possible edge, and again there's no escape from what is real. Newman's compositional musician- ship often borders on remarkable, as he lines up lyric with melody in each song to create a showcase for his skill. Even in parody he is amazingly precise, as on "Mikey's," where a bar patron despairs, Didn't used to be this ugly music playing all the time/Where are we, on the moon? His complaints are slowly drowned i out by the pounding rhythms of syn- thesized techno-rock virtually devoid of melody. The funniest aspect of the song is that after a couple of listenings even the "ugly music" sounds good, and it's an incredible contrast to the soundtrack to Ragtime, for instance, which Newman composed and conducted two years ago. As "different" as Newman is, his at- tention has a tendency to wander on oc- casion, resulting in songs like "Miami" and "There's A Party At My House." While they're interesting enough musically ("Party" rocks maniacally), the cuts seem directionless and fall short of Newman's best. The weaknesses are minor, though, and are compensated by the real gems. One of his favorite targets in the past has been the human oblivious to reality, and Newman zeroes in on just such a self-aggrandizing buffoon (disguised as himself) fronted w doing poo cope with might be paradise, a kinky li cesses, thi Hills hote Springste Bruce, he said to hi would yo while? Th teacher's problem shouting, bag! Newmar his talents can take I ferent. Tro JOHN PRII MICHIGAN THEATI FRIDAY, MARCH 4, 8:00 Reserve Seating - $8.50 8 Available at Michigan Theatre I Radio Hour: Mike show '40s and provides a memorable ex- perience for the audience. "If you lived through the '40s you are likely to well up with teary eyes and then chuckle with delight," wrote Richard L. Coe in the Washington Post. "If you arrived too classes in voice, movement, text analysis, and acting, as well as actual performances. The current Master of Fine Arts production, August Strin- dberg's play The Father, features four second-year and three first-year MFA students. The Father shows Strindberg at his finest, as the playwright'examines the psychological conflicts and mistrusts of a 19th century family. Gregg Henry, a second-year MFA student, plays a father whose attempts to send his 16- year-old daughter away leads him into direct opposition to his manipulative wife. In an effort to gain control, the wife advances doubt of the father's pater- nity, and soon all the complex familial relationships come out in the open. "If you close your eyes for a minute, you miss something," says Michael Gold- berg, a MFA actor who plays the family doctor. "Every scene is vitally impor- - tant, and if the audience wants to ex- perience it, they'll be enthralled every minute." The director of The Father is master acting teacher Radu Penciulescu. He compares the play to a modernized Greek tragedy with all its extraor- dinary passion, family themes, and social restrictions. "The Father is like walking on thin ice, where you can feel the ice cracking; every moment a catastrophe can happen," explains Radu. "A traditional play has an ex- position, a development, and a climax; here the play starts with the climax and goes for two hours. It's an incredible X- ray of a catastrophe." Penciulescu is a man of process, not product. His approach to such tragic material is to avoid the common ten- dency to make actors "comfortable loudspeakers delivering the text," rather than real individuals reacting to concrete situations. Radu has a very distinctive style of teaching. He defies the prevalent in- structional method of performing a multitude of scenes one after another; he seeks to encourage individual ex- ploration of the play's essential ideas rather than presupposing how a role should be played before the process begins. "Nobody really knows - there's-no pre-established role," says the director. "The point is to explore the subject of a project, not to define it. The ends of a project are (accomplished) by the process of developing the project it- self." To help his students approach material focusing on values of different times and societies, Radu had them work on Anton Chekov's The Seagull while rehearsing The Father. Both plays necessitate a developed historical awareness in order to understand both late for that, you first will hoot and then become ever so tender." Special group discount tickets and twp-for-one tickets with a student I.D. are available at the Professional Theatre Program ticket office. Chekhov's Russian aristocracy and Strindberg's puritanical attitudes. The main thrust of Radu's teaching is to expand his students' creative poten- tial. "The problem is to enrich the qualities of the (actors) . . . (so) that they should be able to fulfill professional-like requirements later on - but not only that. If it should be only that, it should be very little. They should have horizons and prospectives which are much farther than that. They are dealing with the future of the American theatre, not with the past. "These people are not supposed to fit frames which are established. They're supposed to do their own frames. The problem is to find out how many openings you can establish for them, not how many endings. To construct the theatre and use everything you know and to make a solid structure which is supposed to be like that, is a crime against the future of the theatre. You have to find out as many ambiguous and flexible forms as you can in order to provide an eventual house for the performances which will be invented tomorrow." Says Henry of his director, "He's always willing to kick you one step fur- ther, no matter where you go. . . or if a scene is going well, he'll make you pur- posely do something weird just to throw you off balance and find it again." 2 I.- FA~ov . AS ®-toI4s-24 oN- IXIU a -1-0Z.lf 30£ SRi CONCERr .5atVa 3rMa TOTALL . 4 ,nj/$ 1'9jOCg. vYc Grac Exper DiSC KLIN 41yJ~eekend7'acchAJI..............................4 .~ ._ -_- __----------..-.__-_-