Jack Linthicum
2006-10-06 10:37:54 UTC
I can't resist. I grew up in Southern California obsessed with Zorro
and Ramona and the idea of a WI where a person who thinks they are
Zorro returns to fight the foreigner who is ruling California is too
juicy for words. It sounds like a bad play, 45 minutes of material
squeezed into a two-hour play. Zorro has been a subject of this
newsgroup in the past, this is an example of what happens to a good
idea taken to its modern end. It fractures the POD to hell, to carry on
the theme.
'Zorro in Hell'
By Charles McNulty, Times Staff Writer
LA JOLLA - La Jolla residents can sleep easier now that Zorro has
landed on their shores. But they probably shouldn't cancel their home
security systems just yet. The swashbuckling icon doesn't have his
usual mojo.
To tell the truth, he seems a little unsure of himself, as though there
were something outdated and maybe a little culturally dubious about his
identity. He has also developed a weird penchant for political shtick,
as though he'd rather be at some comedy club riffing on Dick Cheney's
hunting skills. And did Douglas Fairbanks or any of the other masked
avengers ever make such a big deal about being Latino?
Yes, my friends, Culture Clash has indeed retrieved the old black cape
from Hollywood storage, but not for the usual crusading adventure. In
"Zorro in Hell," the group's still-evolving frolic that opened
Wednesday at the La Jolla Playhouse, the action hero must contend with
a challenge far more daunting than stagecoach robbers. His
self-appointed task is to reclaim California from the hands of another
film legend, the one who frequently drops the phrase "girlie man" in a
bulging Austrian accent and drives around onstage in a mini Hummer
whose license plate reads "Termn8tr."
Sounds like this latest Zorro has a pretty tough fight ahead of him. So
why is he locked down in a psychiatric ward and attended to by a
horror-flick nurse obsessed with suppositories? Scarier still, he has
two Secret Service agents breathing down his neck, one calling him an
"NPR listener," the other threatening him with water-boarding in
Guantanamo.
Culture Clash's radical setup gives way to a drawn-out and increasingly
silly explanation. The man who believes he's Zorro because he keeps
hearing guitar flourishes goes by the nickname Clasher (Richard
Montoya). A writer who won a "multi-culti" grant given to Latinos with
one leg shorter than the other, he was once a normal screenplay-pushing
Angeleno, but life changed as he began researching a new drama about
Zorro at the El Camino Real Inn.
This historic artist colony is presided over by a 200-year-old woman
(played by San Francisco Mime Troupe vet Sharon Lockwood) who has
intimately coaxed masterpieces from nearly every male genius since Karl
Marx. The ancient yet still spry proprietress calls herself "the true
keeper of the sacred Zorro myth and legend" - and has the lunchboxes,
school bags and DVDs to prove it.
She'll need assistance from her staff if she's to inspire Clasher to
pick up the mantle of a figure he considers a gringo fraud. Given the
state of emergency (the Governor's land policies threaten her historic
inn), she'll be forced to call on Don Ringo (Herbert Sigüenza), the
self-proclaimed "first Chicano," and Kyle (Ric Salinas), a therapist
grizzly bear with highbrow philosophical tastes and lowbrow sexual
proclivities that don't deserve recapping.
The ensuing goofiness represents a choppier blend of sketch comedy and
dramatic storytelling than Culture Clash's "Water & Power," the
potboiler of Los Angeles power politics that premiered at the Mark
Taper Forum this summer. The incessant jokiness of "Zorro in Hell"
seems more in keeping with the group's stand-up origins, with every
narrative step requiring a toll of four or five zingers.
The punch lines are delivered with crack timing, and many are quite
daring in their sentiments. In garnering laughs, Culture Clash nobly
refuses to pull punches. Yet stretched out over two acts of harebrained
inanity, the humor can't conceal that 45 minutes of material is being
fluffed to an ungainly two hours.
The production, directed by Berkley Repertory artistic director Tony
Taccone (who mounted the premiere last spring at his theater), moves as
nimbly as it possibly can. There's no dawdling allowed on the stage,
which has been stunningly punctuated with Mexican American artistry by
set designer Christopher Acebo.
Alexander V. Nichols' darkened atmospheric lighting and especially
impressive black-and-white video footage of Zorro outtakes create a
theatrical universe that sometimes seems larger and more self-contained
than the script.
And there's no denying that the trio of performers who make up Culture
Clash know how to seduce an audience with clownish everyman charm.
Their smiling way of insulting President Bush probably could sneak
under the radar of even the staunchest Republican loyalists.
But perhaps it's the massaging nature of the work that takes out some
of the satiric bite. "Zorro in Hell" wants to keep us giggling so we're
never bored or offended. Consequently we're never too agitated either,
which should be the ultimate aim for a self-described piece of
agitprop.
Inspired by the recent immigrant rallies, Culture Clash wants us to
recognize that at a politically imperiled time we must rise up to
become our own Zorros. Good point. No need to administer it with an
endless parade of mind-softening guffaws.
***@latimes.com
and Ramona and the idea of a WI where a person who thinks they are
Zorro returns to fight the foreigner who is ruling California is too
juicy for words. It sounds like a bad play, 45 minutes of material
squeezed into a two-hour play. Zorro has been a subject of this
newsgroup in the past, this is an example of what happens to a good
idea taken to its modern end. It fractures the POD to hell, to carry on
the theme.
'Zorro in Hell'
By Charles McNulty, Times Staff Writer
LA JOLLA - La Jolla residents can sleep easier now that Zorro has
landed on their shores. But they probably shouldn't cancel their home
security systems just yet. The swashbuckling icon doesn't have his
usual mojo.
To tell the truth, he seems a little unsure of himself, as though there
were something outdated and maybe a little culturally dubious about his
identity. He has also developed a weird penchant for political shtick,
as though he'd rather be at some comedy club riffing on Dick Cheney's
hunting skills. And did Douglas Fairbanks or any of the other masked
avengers ever make such a big deal about being Latino?
Yes, my friends, Culture Clash has indeed retrieved the old black cape
from Hollywood storage, but not for the usual crusading adventure. In
"Zorro in Hell," the group's still-evolving frolic that opened
Wednesday at the La Jolla Playhouse, the action hero must contend with
a challenge far more daunting than stagecoach robbers. His
self-appointed task is to reclaim California from the hands of another
film legend, the one who frequently drops the phrase "girlie man" in a
bulging Austrian accent and drives around onstage in a mini Hummer
whose license plate reads "Termn8tr."
Sounds like this latest Zorro has a pretty tough fight ahead of him. So
why is he locked down in a psychiatric ward and attended to by a
horror-flick nurse obsessed with suppositories? Scarier still, he has
two Secret Service agents breathing down his neck, one calling him an
"NPR listener," the other threatening him with water-boarding in
Guantanamo.
Culture Clash's radical setup gives way to a drawn-out and increasingly
silly explanation. The man who believes he's Zorro because he keeps
hearing guitar flourishes goes by the nickname Clasher (Richard
Montoya). A writer who won a "multi-culti" grant given to Latinos with
one leg shorter than the other, he was once a normal screenplay-pushing
Angeleno, but life changed as he began researching a new drama about
Zorro at the El Camino Real Inn.
This historic artist colony is presided over by a 200-year-old woman
(played by San Francisco Mime Troupe vet Sharon Lockwood) who has
intimately coaxed masterpieces from nearly every male genius since Karl
Marx. The ancient yet still spry proprietress calls herself "the true
keeper of the sacred Zorro myth and legend" - and has the lunchboxes,
school bags and DVDs to prove it.
She'll need assistance from her staff if she's to inspire Clasher to
pick up the mantle of a figure he considers a gringo fraud. Given the
state of emergency (the Governor's land policies threaten her historic
inn), she'll be forced to call on Don Ringo (Herbert Sigüenza), the
self-proclaimed "first Chicano," and Kyle (Ric Salinas), a therapist
grizzly bear with highbrow philosophical tastes and lowbrow sexual
proclivities that don't deserve recapping.
The ensuing goofiness represents a choppier blend of sketch comedy and
dramatic storytelling than Culture Clash's "Water & Power," the
potboiler of Los Angeles power politics that premiered at the Mark
Taper Forum this summer. The incessant jokiness of "Zorro in Hell"
seems more in keeping with the group's stand-up origins, with every
narrative step requiring a toll of four or five zingers.
The punch lines are delivered with crack timing, and many are quite
daring in their sentiments. In garnering laughs, Culture Clash nobly
refuses to pull punches. Yet stretched out over two acts of harebrained
inanity, the humor can't conceal that 45 minutes of material is being
fluffed to an ungainly two hours.
The production, directed by Berkley Repertory artistic director Tony
Taccone (who mounted the premiere last spring at his theater), moves as
nimbly as it possibly can. There's no dawdling allowed on the stage,
which has been stunningly punctuated with Mexican American artistry by
set designer Christopher Acebo.
Alexander V. Nichols' darkened atmospheric lighting and especially
impressive black-and-white video footage of Zorro outtakes create a
theatrical universe that sometimes seems larger and more self-contained
than the script.
And there's no denying that the trio of performers who make up Culture
Clash know how to seduce an audience with clownish everyman charm.
Their smiling way of insulting President Bush probably could sneak
under the radar of even the staunchest Republican loyalists.
But perhaps it's the massaging nature of the work that takes out some
of the satiric bite. "Zorro in Hell" wants to keep us giggling so we're
never bored or offended. Consequently we're never too agitated either,
which should be the ultimate aim for a self-described piece of
agitprop.
Inspired by the recent immigrant rallies, Culture Clash wants us to
recognize that at a politically imperiled time we must rise up to
become our own Zorros. Good point. No need to administer it with an
endless parade of mind-softening guffaws.
***@latimes.com