Zohra Rawling was racking her brain, trying to explain all of the things that a recent beau had been doing to make her feel that special, warm tingly feeling from her nose to her toes, that flutter within her chest and stomach.
“I could say bella bella even / say wunderbar,” she sang. “Each language only helps me tell you/ how grand you are!”
From almost the very beginning of In The Red and Brown Water, which plays at the Yale Cabaret from Thursday through Saturday night, our protagonist Oya is running.
Locomotive arms lift and lower themselves behind her. Feet become percussive instruments, hammering into the stage. From all sides of her body comes a deep, collective breath, actors throwing themselves into movement as if to will her forward. It’s the only consistency of which she is totally sure as her muscled legs fly, trying to transport her to another life.
The actors march onto the stark stage in silence. They turn and face the audience and still don’t say anything, not until all have taken their positions. Then August Wilson’s language — incantatory and rich with life — bursts into the theater.
We learn that the five people on stage are returning from a funeral, reconvening in the backyard of a house in Pittsburgh. As they keep talking, it seems clear that they could be doing something else, or anything at all, dressed in their funereal finest. Maybe one could be loosening his tie. Maybe someone could be putting up coffee, or getting out beers.
But they don’t do anything; they just stand there. And it works.
In 1989 former businessman turned playwright Jerry Sterner penned a huge hit about a rapacious corporate takeover specialist, Larry “The Liquidator” Garfinkle, a fast-talking, donut-and-bagel-eating New Yorker who takes over the New England Wire and Cable Company. Popular among Wall Streeters, It even earned the endorsement of a rising young real estate mogul named Donald Trump, although he invested no money — not even other people’s money — in the production.
“There are spirits in this structure, and they are celebrating right now.”
So said an emotion-filled Robert Greenberg as he thanked an audience of friends and supporters who attended a special comedy performance this past Thursday of The Regicides to “help rescue New Haven’s tangible treasures.”
Nina Lesiga remembers when she realized that the chicken she was eating for Sunday dinner — a little tough and chewy, come to think of it — was in fact Vanya, once her grandmother’s favorite black-and-yellow plumed, softly cooing pet.
Thanks to a growing story-sharing initiative at the Institute Library, New Haveners now do too .