Advertisements in America: HIV Prevention Billboards

While July has been specifically designated as HIV awareness month, the AIDS Healthcare Foundation has been running an ongoing campaign for several years.  I’ve especially noticed an increase in billboard exposure around my neighborhood this year.  At first, I was offended by what I saw: ads that struck me as poor or even harmful communication tools. Nothing makes me angrier than ineffective or wasteful nonprofit spending. (I believe too many NPOs are satisfied with good intentions; I'd rather see results.)  However, a google search revealed a wide variety of AHF billboards--some that I quite liked.   

I am not and cannot comment on the effectiveness of AHF’s programs or their organizational integrity.  I can only say that I first became cognizant of AHF through the neighborhood billboards, and my first few impressions were not favorable.

I’ve compiled a sample of AHF ads in order to comment on their merits from a marketing standpoint.  I hope this generates some healthy discussion, disagreement, alternate interpretations, and maybe even a Pulitzer prize.  If nothing else, I hope this article serves as a reminder of the power of words and images, and the unintended messages that can be disseminated.  (God, I miss my days as a media major.)

After the pain of a break up, total betrayal, the destruction of your union, comes this friendly reminder that your ex may have given you herpes along with trust issues.  It’s brutal, but goddammit if it isn’t a practical reminder that, post-cheating, you need to take care of your genitals as well as your heart.  A-

That coy coquette! She has kept her secret for centuries; she’ll keep yours too! A

At last, a gentleman caller of your very own has arrived!  So sweet.  So exciting.  Exchanging test results is the modern day equivalent of wearing each other’s pin.  Awwww!  B+

We've been fighting AIDS for 31 years.  30 million people have died from AIDS-related complications since 1980.  50,000 Americans are infected with HIV each year.  Yep, a flippant "why not?" is just the compelling message we’ve been missing.  F-

I can appreciate a good pun as much as the next guy.  But what, exactly, was I doing with man’s best friend that would make him susceptible to disease?  C

 

This is the second ad to feature a dog.  What are THEY trying to say?!  What stereotype is this? ALL MEN ARE DOGS?! Fine, we are.  A

 

 

I see this billboard being read one of two ways:

1) An STD is like a vampire: it drains the life out of you, but it can only harm you if you invite it in

2) Gay men are predatory vampires that life-suckingly infect each other due to an uncontrollable compulsion

I think a quick glance while driving by is more likely to yield the latter reading.  D

“Do it” and “mom” do not belong in the same sentence.  EVER.  F

A striking visual image, clear website name, and nice indication that one can show PRIDE by protecting oneself and one’s community.  Also, Life Savers taste pretty good.  B+

So AHF paid X-amount of dollars to take out an ad that states a problem, but lists no solutions? All in grandma’s needlepoint?  Wait, does Grandma have HIV?  Huh?  C-

Yes, the ad is a wet blanket.  It’s your know-it-all little brother reminding you that God is always watching.  But it humorously hammers home the idea that no sexual situation is void of potential consequences.  Even out-of-character, Vegas-y ones.  A+

 

This article was written by Dan Johnson, a freelance writer living in Los Angeles, who recently helped cover the Hollywood Fringe Festival for Cinesnatch. He can be contacted at daniel.johnson14 / at / HOTMAIL / dot / com

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Los Angeles Theatre Review: War Horse

War Horse has perhaps the best opening of any play I’ve ever seen. A man stands alone on stage. As he opens an oversized storybook (the play is based on Michael Morpurgo's 1982 children's story), a light gently shines before him a few feet away, where another man, previously obscured by darkness, emerges. It’s a moment of pure myth and magic--the promise of a good yarn, and maybe a little enchantment. The story begins at an auction where Joey (our future war horse) is the center of a bidding war between two competitive brothers--Arthur (wealthy and conniving) and Ted (poor and proud). Arthur (played by Brian Keane) knows full well he is driving the price much higher than Joey’s market value. He also knows his stubborn brother will outbid him no matter the cost--in this case, the family mortgage payment. 



Ted (Todd Cerveris) brings Joey home to his exasperated wife (Angela Reed) and mesmerized son, Albert (Andrew Veenstra). The boy and horse quickly forge a friendship soon severed by war, when Ted sells Joey to the army. Albert waits agonizing years until he is old enough to enlist to begin his search for Joey. The story plays out as a standard cornball love affair between a boy and his horse--a love so all-encompassing, it nuzzles its way to the pre-sexual. One can’t help but think that once Albert meets a girl (or boy, for that matter) he likes, his first thought will be “Joey who?” The story, of course, refuses to address this possibility, and we are expected to believe these actions come from eighteen-year old Albert, though they seem more befitting of a twelve-year-old.

This is too bad, because War Horse is not without its unique pleasures. Designer Adrian Kohler's horses, wooden creations operated by no less than two to three actors at any given time (sometimes being ridden by an additional actor), are lovely. They look like ligneous skeletons but move effortlessly thanks to Toby Sedgwick's choreography. The jerking of a head, stamping of a hoof, shuttering of the neck–you swear you can almost see the muscles flexing and beast breathing. This isn’t puppetry; it’s poetry. A beautiful accomplishment, worthy of better material.  The puppetry isn’t enough to save the show.  Joey’s personality is indiscernible, neither consistently headstrong or spunky, particular or mischievous. He’s more often acted upon than acting. He barely registers consciousness for entire stretches of the play, nullifying him even as an adequate silent witness. Instead, he feels like a prop--a puppet, if you will, with a personality wooden on the inside and out--for the other character’s less-compelling stories. The flesh and blood cast does a capable job given the material. As Albert, Veenstra manages to give a solid performance, but the actor is clearly too old to really be able to sell this relationship. John Milosich provides the only solo vocal in the show; his voice is appropriately ordinary for such uninspired material. The set is barebones and includes a wall at the upper back of the stage that can best be described as a suspended monolithic, chunky scrim used to project imagery, both stills, in motion, and in between. At first, its illustrative properties are inviting, unassuming and fit in with the simplicity of its surroundings. However, quite quickly, in its quest to overcompensate for lack of physical space, the presentations become distracting and cartoonish.

This article was written by Dan Johnson, a freelance writer living in Los Angeles, who recently helped cover the Hollywood Fringe Festival for Cinesnatch.  

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Hollywood Fringe Festival Review: Voices in My Head: A Life

Voices in My Head: A Life




Written and Performed by Bill Ratner




55 minutes; $10


Synopsis: Bill Ratner – one of the most recognizable voice actors in Hollywood – tells about his life.

Review: You recognize his voice. Bill Ratner, the ever-present omniscient narrator in countless documentaries, video games, and movie trailers – the fucking voice of GI Joe and God, has decided it’s time he use his trade to tell his own story. To be sure, he has had an interesting life. There’s an instant familiarity–a bond–listening to this anonymous voice that has been woven into the fabric of our day to day lives. There's a special delight in hearing that voice becoming real. He actually talks! And he talks off-script. Ratner spends the most effective parts of his performance on glimpses of his career foreshadowed in his childhood. He speaks of his fascination with media as a boy and recalls his first announcer with a voice “deep, calm, and highly intelligent.” He would spend hours sucking at the “glass teat” of the TV screen, absorbing voice and image, before launching his own radio station with neighborhood kids who would broadcast to each other late into the night.

Less successful are the stories about his family life, which has been unspeakably tragic. As a boy, he lived through the death of his mother, brother, and finally father, who all died separately from unrelated causes. To his credit, Ratner does not allow the story to get caught up in melodrama, only speaking warmly about them. But his tale is a bit too choppy, jumping from moment to moment, sharing an amusing observation here, an extraordinary coincidence there, while not revealing too much of himself, his story. These snippets somehow don’t add up to “a life” as promised in the title. A stronger connection to the theme might serve the piece better. In fact, the production would probably have benefited from being longer (something I rarely say), allowing Ratner to tell his story more fully, a common thread linking the stories together.



Best Line: "The marketplace is a dark soulless thing, vulnerable to the artless whim of philistines and barbarians: the sponsors!"

Bottom Line: A charming, warm performance and that voice! Still, the piece seems incomplete, underserved by his desire to honor his family in ways that aren’t relevant to the audience at large.

Voices in My Head: A Life is part of the 2012 Hollywood Fringe Festival and plays at the Complex Theatre tonight and tomorrow night at 7:30 pm and runs for 55 minutes. You can find tickets here.

Dan Johnson is a freelance writer in Los Angeles helping cover the 2012 Hollywood Fringe Festival for Cinesnatch.

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Hollywood Fringe Festival Theatre Review: Four Clowns

 Four Clowns

Conceived and Directed by Jeremy Aluma

75 minutes; $5 - $10

Synopsis: Four actors perform a series of vignettes that present the human struggle from being a kid all the way to adulthood.   Oh yeah, they’re clowns.

Review: Four Clowns is an improv comedy show broken up into three sections: childhood, adolescence, and adulthood.  Each phase of life offers a variety of skits, including a boy molested by his teacher, another bullied by his brother, a teenager spurning his first love due to peer pressure, and an adult taken ill who must be operated on.  Although it may not seem like cheery subject matter, I assure you it most certainly is. 

With such a talented group, it’s hard to pick a favorite performer here.  Amir Levi may be the funniest of the four, though Raymond Lee has the most range (if you ever need an impression of a half dolphin/half sheep, Lee is your guy).  Alexis Jones has a beautiful singing voice, and her line delivery was great, even when speaking gibberish.  Kevin Klein (not that one) brought a manic, self-conscious energy to the show.  He was the most comfortable letting the seams of the play show, sharing with the audience the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants nature of improv.  I can’t help but think that someone needs to send these actors over to SNL to save it. 

The show, though a lot of fun, could have used a bit more discipline.  Skits went on a little too long, interludes occasionally seemed directionless, and the group relied a little too heavily on killing one or all of the main characters to find their way out of a dead-end skit.  The actors played fast and loose throughout the show, less artists than performers having a blast.  It was impossible to resist their infectious spirit, but I just wished the screws were just a little tighter.  Ultimately, they were better comedians than improvisationalists.  Mario Granville deserves a special shout-out for his spirited piano playing throughout the show.  He ably created the soundtrack for the various skits, and his introductory pieces in particular were especially difficult. 

Best Line: Throughout the play, we witness the Sad Clown (Jones) being verbally abused by her mother. She befriends an audience member and periodically goes to him for comfort, leading to the following exchange--

Sad Clown: Why is my mother like that?
Audience Member: Because she’s mean.
Sad Clown: I’d rather be mean than sad.

The most succinct explanation for bullying I’ve ever heard.

Bottom Line: The cast is extremely talented and likable.  The show could use a little cleaning up, but you’ll have a great time, regardless.

This particular show simply titled Four Clowns only played once at the Fringe Fest.  However, you can catch the troupe’s other show That Beautiful Laugh (family friendly) on June 21st (8pm) and 23rd (9pm).  You can find tickets here.  

Dan Johnson is a freelance writer in Los Angeles helping cover the 2012 Hollywood Fringe Festival for Cinesnatch.

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Hollywood Fringe Festival Theatre Review: 25 Plays Per Hour

Synopsis: A crew of actors put on twenty-five plays in fifty minutes.

Initial Reaction: Whiplash.

Review: Theater Unleashed – a Los Angeles-based theater company – has come up with a show that seems uniquely suited to the present day attention span. Webisodes and YouTube videos promise to keep us no more than 5 minutes so that we can move on to the next one. I myself find it difficult to sit through an entire movie on Netflix Streaming without conducting a few IMDb searches and Facebook checks. TU has put together twenty-five two-minute plays in one production comprised of various gags, vignettes, and monologues. This ought to keep us interested, right?

The opening piece is amusingly meta, in which the two main characters are stressing out over the idea of having to write a play in a couple of minutes. The first character asks, “How are we supposed to show an instant bond between two characters?” Her writing partner gently wipes a stray crumb off the first character’s cheek, all the while indicating she has no idea. They complain about how unrealistic it is to write a play in two minutes, just before wondering “What impossible task can we give our main characters?” It’s a cute introduction, especially appreciated because it would not have the same impact in any other context.  Another piece draws surprising parallels between going to your first war and starring in your first gay porn. Yet another reveals a former bully’s regret for driving a classmate to suicide. And another finds a married couple bickering about the love/hate chore of sex. The conversation adopts a “boys locker room” quality as the two argue over who is the more discreet masturbater. The fact that some of these plays aren’t very good seems almost beside the point. They’re so short that, as long as you’ve been entertained, they’ve done their job.

Mostly, however, they are pretty good, some even great. The format seems better suited for quick gags that couldn’t normally sustain the length of a full play, and 25 Plays finds plenty of amusing setups. The dramatic pieces, on the whole, were less successful, as these were less experimental, prone to cliché and sentimentality, and overstuffed considering the format. The standout from the entire production, however, was “White Satin, Clean Lines,” a dramatic piece about the sad cost of fitting into the perfect wedding dress. The monologue turns from amusing to tragic, bold to subtle so quickly, so naturally, that it really feels like a complete piece. The entire Theatre Unleashed cast is largely up to the task of creating various characters and different set ups. Tracey Collins deserves singling out, however, for delivering the most laughs.

Best Line: "Have you ever had sex with a fat guy in a car?!"

Bottom Line: It’s no surprise that a collection of twenty-five plays contains varied tones, subject matter, and levels of quality. The shorts are more hit than miss, and while the production may be light as a feather, it’s undeniably a lot of fun.

You can catch 25 Plays Per Hour at the Theatre Asylum today (2:30 PM), and also on June 20th (8:30 PM), 22nd (11:30 PM), and 23rd (2:30 PM).  Find tickets here.

Dan Johnson is a freelance writer in Los Angeles helping cover the 2012 Hollywood Fringe Festival for Cinesnatch.

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Hollywood Fringe Festival Theatre Review: This Vicious Minute

This Vicious Minute

Written by Ben Moroski

75 minutes; $5 - $10

Synopsis: In his one man show, Ben Moroski – straight-A student, former quarterback of the high school football team – shares his struggle with cutting.

Initial Reaction: The production is so simple and the story so personal, it seems perfectly suited for the Fringe Fest.

Review: Vicious recounts Moroski's struggle with self-mutilation, as well as with love, sex, and his church. They all get wrapped up in each other, one feeding on another, cycling, expounding. While Moroski did not begin cutting until he was seventeen, he starts his story four years previously, as a new teenage boy, freshly "saved" on a religious retreat. He arrives at home eager to begin his life of personal purity void of lust, kissing, and masturbation.  He knew he could be good – righteous - if he could just be strong enough.

He wasn’t.

He quickly discovered that he could not ignore his sexual desires. He lusted, touched himself, and failed to protect his prescribed virtue. He could not control his urges. So, instead, he would cut. He had never heard of the act. It wasn't an event or condition with a name, therefore “it couldn’t be right or wrong,” he explains. It was his way of gaining control. Cutting was his friend, he admits. Fascinatingly, Moroski speaks about the surprisingly sexual nature of his relationship with self-harming. There is that same excitement: the trembling and foreplay as he gently runs the razor across his chest before making the first slice. There is even, he reveals, an erection. Cutting was also glamorously tragic. He would call up girlfriends, threatening to cut, letting them talk him out of it. He could test their relationship and love, as well as his worth. He was fucked up, but they might save him. He cut so they could.

While Moroski has gone through periods of sobriety, he tends to gloss over them in his piece. He presents them with so few details, they almost seem arbitrarily happenstance, months or years where he just didn't cut. He doesn’t describe them as if they were a struggle, part of cycle, or periods of hope. They actually seem like minor plot-points in his life he can’t seem to milk any storytelling value out of. Ignoring the significance of these periods has the unfortunate consequence of limiting the story; it does not become a tale of recovery. It’s a story of what cutting did for him, which could have been engrossing in its own right, but why, then, frame it as a narrative? The play carries us along, but ultimately doesn’t lead anywhere.

Vicious does end on a powerful note with the artist removing his shirt and taking inventory of his scars. Like rings in a tree, each scar marks moments, years, battles lost. In a soft voice he lists each weapon - X-Acto knife, curling iron, sewing needle – while pointing to each old wound. It’s a powerful display: a physical journal of suffering, rarely seen in live theater. One just wishes it received the introspection it deserved.

Best Line: “When I cut, I disappear.”

Bottom line: The play is highly personal, though it lacks the insight necessary to make it a true standout. It’s as much about his struggle with relationships and religion as it is about cutting. While Moroski uses those aspects of his life to explain the what?, he never gets quite deep enough to the why?, thus making his monologue feel incomplete. Moroski does deserve credit for avoiding self-pity and melodrama. The play is never indulgent, and I admire how the playwright is not concerned with making his motivations relatable or likable.

You can catch This Vicious Minute at the Elephant Theater: June 17th 12pm; June 18th 9pm; June 19th 10:30pm; June 24th 4pm.  Find tickets here.

Dan Johnson is a freelance writer in Los Angeles helping cover the 2012 Hollywood Fringe Festival for Cinesnatch.

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Hollywood Fringe Festival Theatre Review: John 10:10

John 10:10

Written and Directed by Michael Etzrodt

35 minutes; $15

Synopsis: A deeply religious father and son try to live a life of pious purity, which they try to share with everyone they encounter.

Initial Reaction: This is my childhood gone horribly wrong.

Review: The show opens with a father and son speaking to an elderly woman about donating money to save the souls of others.  The men speak with language so flowery, they can only be con artists.  (One memorable line has the father rebuking a woman because he can smell “the yeasty odor of [Satan’s] black seed that you allowed in your basket.”)  The verbal acrobatics are so extravagant, the audience can’t help but enjoy watching this elderly woman get swindled, for she stood no chance against such conviction, such righteousness.

The next scene finds the father and son back at their house, alone, where the flowery language doesn't stop.  They claim that suffering is righteous and personal purity is achievable so often, the audience comes to suspect their conviction is sincere.  John 10:10 toys with this doubt for most of the play.  Are these men con artists?  Or have they been conned themselves?  When does religious zealotry pass into mental illness?  When is it just an impeccable performance to make a few bucks from the unsuspecting?

While I won’t give away the ending, the play makes it clear that such complete devotion to a rigid philosophy is unsustainable.  The father and son work so hard to save others' souls, because deep down they know they cannot save their own.   No matter how much money it costs those they unknowingly deceive, the price for the father and son is much, much greater.

Best line: “I love cheap whiskey.  First there is sin.” The father takes a shot of whiskey.  “Then penance.”  He grimaces at the foul taste.  “Then absolution.”  He smiles as the alcohol starts to kick in.

Bottom Line: Criticism of fanatical Christianity in theatre and movies has been done so many times before, it’s hard for a piece to find something new to say.  John 10:10 gets points for being more than just a revenge piece on religion.  It also introduces some interesting ideas, but ultimately remains frustratingly unclear on what it's trying to say.  Fringe Festers might also be turned off by the $15 price for a 35 minute play, preferring bigger (or longer) bang for their buck.   A nice performance by Bryce McBratnie playing the tormented, struggling son cannot save the show from seeming muddled.  Not a bad play, certainly, and, potentially, a great one; but it’s still a few rewrites away from that.

You can catch John 10:10 at the Complex Theatre:
June 10^th 5:15 PM; June 15^th 10:15 PM; June 16^th 10:15 PM; June 19^th 7:15 PM; June 22^nd 7:30 PM; June 23^rd 7:30 PM.  Find tickets here. 

Dan Johnson is a freelance writer in Los Angeles helping cover the 2012 Hollywood Fringe Festival for Cinesnatch. 

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Theatre Review: The Scottsboro Boys

The Scottsboro Boys tells the true story of nine black teens who were falsely accused of raping two white women aboard a train traveling across Tennessee in 1931.  With little corroborating evidence, the boys endured multiple mistrials while waiting for justice in the town of Scottsboro, Alabama.  For most of them, it never arrived.  The five oldest were sentenced to prison and all but one died before being pardoned by Governor George Wallace in 1976.  The largely unknown story seems to have fallen through the cracks between the abolishment of slavery and the rise of the Civil Rights Movement.  American education, in general, still hasn’t figured out how to talk about black history outside of those two events, and seems to have particularly little use for sad stories with sad endings, preferring country roots that highlight the continuous march towards greatness and moral superiority.  Thus, racially-motivated miscarriages of justice are deemed unworthy of study.  Nobly, Scottsboro seeks an audience looking for a little more frankness and authenticity.  However, the Kander and Ebb musical is not content with just a simple retelling.  Instead, the production's history lesson arrives in the form of a minstrel show--the deeply racist entertainment that gained popularity in the 1800s by depicting African-Americans as subhuman cartoons.  It's no surprise that Scottsboro closed after less than a year and has had trouble finding the momentum necessary to carry a national tour.  Essentially, the play asks its audience to pay to feel uncomfortable.  However, the major flaw of the production is that it does not make the audience feel uncomfortable enough. 

Ruby Bates (James T. Lane) and Victoria Price (Clifton Oliver)
in "Alabama Ladies"

The show (book by David Thompson) opens with one white man and nine black men--two dressed in exaggerated costumes designed to instantly identify them as “coons”--taking the stage.  While the coons make the biggest impression jumping around the stage and telling off-color jokes, it's clear that The Interlocutor calls the shots.  In the opening number, he describes himself as "the master of these folks."  He speaks not of slavery, but his role as the Master of Ceremonies.  However, in the context of the minstrel tradition, playing on questions of who owns the media (hint: white people), we are left to wonder what the difference really is.  Throughout the play, The Interlocutor represents the benignly racist white man: he's not evil, but just exceedingly comfortable with the status quo, willfully blind to his own power.  He announces that our black troupe will be telling us the story of the Scottsboro boys.  One of the black actors inquires, “This time can we tell the truth?”  The Interlocutor quickly agrees, his reaction indicating that he assumed they had always told the truth.  

Haywood Patterson (Clifton Duncan) 

And, thus, the story begins.  The plot is fairly straightforward–no tricks in timeline or contrivances.  In a nice twist--at least for the first quarter of the show--the “minstrel” roles are reserved solely for when the black actors play white characters.   Whether portraying sassy white girls or drunken incompetent white lawyers, the actors seem to be having a blast with the broad characterizations and loud performances.  In stark contrast, when the only Caucasian in the production assumes the roles of his white characters, though no more upright, they're depicted as natural and human.   It's a shrewd reminder about what can happen when specific groups must rely on others for representation.  Unfortunately, the point gets a little muddled later in the show when black characters break out into buffoonery as well.  The mishandling of the conceit begins to undermine its effectiveness, as the performances are never funny or shocking enough to place the audience in complete unease.  It's like someone took the worst of the minstrel traditions and lessened the intensity by half, as if to make it more palatable to a modern audience--the opposite of what the premise needs to be successful!

Bates (Lane) does the air splits
in "Never Too Late"

The show comes closest to reaching its potential during one memorable number in which three of the accused men don white gloves and break out into a tap dance segment centered around an electric chair.  The audience gets lost in the choreography as they shuffle around the stage, only to be jolted back to the specifics of the scene every time the stage darkens and the buzz of electricity reminds us that real men are going to die unjustly.  The scene's impact, however, is somewhat dampened by the limited technique of the performers who clearly are not trained in tap.

Clinton Roane,
swing member

Perhaps the biggest disappointment is that while the Scottsboro illustrates how dehumanizing minstrel depictions are, it never gives us a full three-dimensional portrait of any character.  The story clips along at such a quick pace, characters are never allowed to feel more than one emotion at once, and motivations remain superficially examined.   Clifton Duncan gives a solid performance as the lead Haywood Patterson, but isn't able to elevate the material by adding shades to the character missing from the book.  Most of the remaining characters are given too little to truly leave an impression.  The ones that do are too one-note to resonate.  As Clarence Norris, Eric Jackson brings little more than over-the-top anger.  Angel-voiced Nile Bullock, portraying twelve year old Eugene Williams, plays his characters' anger, annoyance, fear, and hopelessness at the same volume--blistering hysteria.

Scottsboro's score ably moves the story along, though it seems to resist any showstopping moments.  "Go Back Home" is the strongest number, an understated gem that finds the nine boys in jail, quietly yearning to catch a train home.  "Southern Days" is another standout number for reinforcing the theme of how storytellers effect storytelling.  The Interlocutor mentions how he loved to hear the black field workers singing wistfully about their beloved South.  


He has the troupe sing:

DON’T YOU MISS

THE SIGHT OF WILLOWS DRIPPIN’

ON A BALMY SOUTHERN DAY?

DON’T YOU MISS THE TASTE OF JULEP SIPPIN’

AS YOU WHILE THAT DAY AWAY?

The second verse takes an unexpectedly dark turn as the troupe reclaims their version of the story, much to The Interlocutor's dismay and confusion:

DON’T YOU MISS

THOSE HONEYSUCKLE DAYS IN ALABAM?

HOW THE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS

COME BACK TO ME!

LIKE DADDY HANGING FROM A TREE

Clifton Duncan 

The Old Globe Theater's production seems to be fairly faithful to the Broadway version (which received an unprecedented twelve nominations and no wins two years ago at the Tony's).  The set is bare, comprised only of nearly a dozen chairs which serve as train, prison cell, courtroom, etc, as the scenes dictate.  The props are nearly nonexistent, and the costumes are plain enough to be invisible.  On the whole, it's a bit underwhelming, and Scottsboro might be better served by a greater commitment to both commentary and spectacle.  None-the-less, bold works like this deserve to be seen, debated, and encouraged.  I appreciate what a hard sell this show must have been from the beginning, and the empty seats in the theater only reinforces the fact that we should do better in supporting challenging new works.  For that alone, I recommend this production.  The Scottsboro Boys closes June 10th at the Conrad Prebys Theatre Center at the Old Globe.  In later June, the American Conservatory Theatre will commence a month long run in San Francisco.  

This review was from freelance writer Dan Johnson.  Please welcome Dan to the Cinesnatch fold.  We look forward to his future coverage.  

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