What occurs in a theater when sex happens? Ivo Dimchev’s FEST and Florentina Holzinger and Vincent Riebeek’s KEIN APPLAUS FÜR SCHEISSE present two very different looks.
Micro-interviews of some Micromaniacs: Manon Manavit, Julius Ferraro, Drew Carroll, Scott Rodrigue, James Wadsworth Strong, Shelby Jackson
Interviews with the creative team for Micromanias, a double-bill of original performances coming up this November at Kensington’s Little Berlin.
RAPTURE, BLISTER, BURN is an exploration of contemporary feminist questions and a story in which those theories are put to a practical test.
Nine point five hours, five pieces of theater, ten bicyclists, and no great plan on how we’re gonna eat: that was the format for day two of PHINDIE’S OFFICIAL FRINGE BIKE TOUR.
In SPLICE, a single flat wave of board whoops its way through the Leonard Pearlstein Gallery, which consists of about four rooms, vaguely defined by false walls.
I asked Tuomanen, who directed the piece, to talk about The Body Lautrec. On extremely short notice, she agreed (“Aaron called me, said someone was upset about Lautrec and you wanted to ask me some questions.”) We talk about filth, exploitation, agency, and other uplifting stuff.
“Your little ducks,” Leah says, as we look over our shoulders at the line of weaving their way south on 21st, “they’re all in a row.”
The timely BROKEN WING, offered to the FringeArts festival in an beautifully executed performance by Pantea Productions, tells the story of a brash American photographer (Bob Stineman) who, while traveling in Iran, sleeps with his host’s young wife Arezoo.
Tongue & Groove’s team is pretty fearless, and though the performance has some slower moments, they’re quick to cut off a bit that isn’t working and move forward. Musician Carol Moog sits off to the side, riffing on a harmonica whenever she decides a scene has ended.
Wanna experience the best of Fringe, but don’t know how? Overwhelmed by the offerings of the Guide? Fearful to take your first taste of Philly’s oldest and largest performance festival and somehow get it wrong? Or else just don’t want to do it alone?
Join Phindie for a one-day Fringe immersion, led by Julius Ferraro—Phindie.com theater editor, journalist, playwright, performer, and veteran fringehopper.
Daniel Talbott’s YOU KNOW MY NAME: A DANIEL TALBOTT TRIO presents some unique challenges. Three short plays which could easily take place in the same town dwell with nearly pornographic clarity on the cruelty of the town’s inhabitants and of fate.
A backwoods exorcism by a snake-handling preacher, a community-building sleepover play about death, devised theater by dangerous women, and a gallery where live mannequins and their art intersect: we’re hoping the newly-birthed Fringe/Fringe Festival turns out to be as freaky and compelling as its play synopses promise.
This Wednesday, Quince Productions continues an exciting GayFest! with the opening of Next Fall, playwright/actor Geoffrey Nauffts’ Tony Award-nominated play. Next Fall tackles big issues without big presumptions, approaching societal white…
With WE ARE BANDITS, director Rebecca Wright and Applied Mechanics are working against a brutal opponent: American cynicism.
They’ve turned the third-floor space of Asian Arts Initiative into what looks like a sprawling, minimalist installation piece. Tables, chairs, and little else delineate various spaces throughout the basketball-court-sized venue, including a city square, the apartments of various characters, a rooftop, and a church.
In this final episode, we talk about people talkin’ ‘bout bodies in West Philly and a double-bill: dark skies and stalkers in South Philly.
In episode ten, we’ve got nothingness Goethe in a secret secret place, grief clowning in West Philly, and autobiographical anatomy in Rittenhouse.
In the SoLow Fest this year, some 30+ artists are creating cheap cheap theater in formal and informal spaces around the city. Challenging the idea that budget = quality, artistic…
To the left of the pyramid was a little shanty you could enter and perform a primal scream. A glass window on either side faced in on a small chamber with an apple and, if you hit the right decibel with your scream, the apple would explode. The mechanism for blowing up the apple failed pretty quickly (it worked a few times before the forces of chaos seeped into the mechanism), but that didn’t stop the crowd going in and screaming periodically while the Eye played master of ceremonies from his pyramid throne.