REVIEW: Ubu the King

I’ve mentioned the Actors’ Gang in the past, a theater group based in Culver City. In addition to presenting edgy, experimental theater, they also do extensive work in the community, including youth workshops and a fun summer family-friendly free Shakespeare in the Park program. (We’ve attended every Shakespeare in the Park performance since its start, taking our kids when they were children. Though they seem to have outgrown it, my wife and I still attend every year!)

Founded in 1981, after operating primarily in various theaters in Hollywood over the years, in 2005 the Actors’ Gang moved to the Ivy Substation in downtown Culver City, a historic landmark that once stored power equipment for nearby electric railways and was converted to a theater. The venue anchors one end of the city's downtown and played a role in the re-gentrification of the neighborhood—it’s also a few blocks from the Culver Studios, which I’ve also highlighted in past posts.

One of the founders and primary movers of the Actors’ Gang is actor and director Tim Robbins, who is very active and hands on with the troupe. Robbins' years at UCLA briefly overlapped my own time there and, in fact, he mounted a production of “Ubu the King" when I was a student there. Alas, I did not see that production, so when I heard that they were staging it again to mark the Actors’ Gang’s 40th anniversary, I had to see it.

“Ubu the King” is about a Polish nobleman whose wife convinces him to murder the king and take the crown for himself. He promptly becomes a despot, proceeding to consolidate power and accumulate the kingdom's wealth by exploiting, terrorizing and even executing his subjects, including his noblemen and landowners; though he kills most of the king’s family, the assassinated son partners with allies in Russia to exact revenge. This is the basic plot, but it does not do justice to the absurdist and low brow comedy, and the use of devices like toy action figures and strobe lights that Robbins employs to highlight the anarchic and chaotic tone of the play. This is very much guerrilla theater—at one point, during the strobe light sequence, I realized that several in the company running around the theater were nude!

Written in 1896 by Alfred Jarry, the play is profane, scatological and absurdist, and considered a precursor to the modernist and absurdist theater movement—indeed, a riot reportedly ensued at the play’s first performance. It's a sort of absurdist version of "Macbeth" and other Shakespeare plays such as "Hamlet" and "King Lear." (The Actors’ Gang is also heavily influenced by the commedia dell'arte style of acting.)

I have another tenuous connection to the production—a close college friend of mine was in in Robbins’ original production at UCLA that I didn’t see.  Just a few years back, he told me that shortly after Robbins graduated (around 1981), he called my friend and asked him if he wanted to appear in a new production that summer. My friend told me that he passed on the invitation, partly because he already had a job lined up for that summer as a theater usher (in retrospect, of course, he wonders now what he was thinking!).

Fast forward to the show from last week. The theater is very small and seats only about 100 people. Robbins actually showed up before the start of the show, mingling and worked the bar a little.

Afterwards, in the theater’s tiny lobby/foyer, Robbins walked by me but seemed to be speaking to people he knew, so I didn’t feel comfortable trying to break in. After we exited the theater and looked back, however, my wife noticed that Robbins had come out on his own. My wife had wanted to rave to him about an Actors’ Gang show he produced in 1991 (when they were in a theater in Hollywood) called “Klub,” which she really loved. So we ran back and spent a few minutes speaking with him—he was lovely and effusive.

When I mentioned my friend’s story, he asked his name—I qualified by saying I wasn’t sure he’d remember him, but indeed he did. He told me to tell my friend to encourage him to attend and then say hi to him after the show. In fact, he told me that he had invited a bunch of people from that production he was still in touch with (who he referred to as “the original UBUists”) to the show and they had had a mini-reunion.

The following day, while going through the program, I noticed there was a list of “the original UBUists”—and found my friend’s name on the list!

Discovering Lulu

Last year I posted about my deep dive into the life, career(s) and films of Hedy Lamarr, which included reading a few biographies and watching many of her films.

Though I didn’t delve as deeply, I recently became curious about silent era icon Louise Brooks when I caught Pandora' s Box on TCM, the film that made the actress an international star. With her iconic and striking bob hairdo, she epitomized the 1920s' flapper girl.

As a lifelong film fan, I was vaguely aware of Brooks, as a Hollywood personality, but like my experience with Lamarr, hadn’t seen any of her films to have any real understanding or personal view of her library of work.

Having seen Pandora’s Box, I understand now all the fuss—she’s amazing in the film given the context of the era. In her day, audiences and critics apparently didn’t seem to think she did much acting since she did not engage in the kind of overplaying and projection that were more typical in silent era films, and likely stage acting, where you had to project to the back rows. In contrast, Brooks (when working with a sympathetic director) recognized that film provided an intimacy with the audience that allowed for more naturalistic, subtle performances.

Adding to Pandora’s Box notoriety is much of its pre-code content. In the film, Brooks plays Lulu, essentially a kept woman, whose sugar daddies and lovers are driven to ruin (and worse) because they can’t resist her charms. The film is also recognized for its portrayal of the first lesbian relationship on film. Though she marries one of her lovers, her actions nevertheless leads to everyone’s ultimate downfall, herself included. Lulu at first seems a bit innocent and oblivious of her charms, though there is one scene where she clearly shows she knows exactly what she’s doing.

It must be said that Brooks had a few similarities to Lamarr—in addition to likely not achieving the full potential of their talents, both actresses seemed to be impulsive and more apt to follow their hearts rather than make shrewd career decisions. Brooks was even more of a free spirit—unhappy with the quality of the roles in Hollywood, she fled her Hollywood contract with Paramount to accept an offer from German director G.W. Pabst to star in Pandora’s Box. Based on a series of stage plays, the character was deemed quintessentially German, so casting Brooks caused controversy. But Pabst was determined to cast Brooks after spotting her in another project. (Pabst had Marlene Dietrich waiting in the wings if Brooks was unavailable.)

Later, when Brooks returned to Hollywood, she refused to dub lines in a film she had shot prior to leaving for Germany so that it could be turned into a talkie. As a result, she was dubbed by another actress and then blacklisted for being "difficult"—the studios' cover being that she did not have a voice for film, which was untrue. (I actually found YouTube interviews with her from the 1970s, where you can hear her voice—it’s perfectly fine and you can see that she was certainly a woman of strong will and opinions.)

Due to Brooks’ partying ways, and her multiple affairs and infidelities, Pabst feared she’d reach an end not too unlike Lulu's in the film. While she did indeed hit close to bottom, eventually living as a recluse and near poverty in New York City, she was re-discovered by critics and film scholars in the 1950s. She eventually became an admired essayist about her days as a film star and other subjects (collected in her book, Lulu in Hollywood) and found a level of financial security in her later years. (Some assistance came from a monthly stipend provided to her by CBS founder William Paley, who was one of her lovers as a young man. He only asked that she keep his financial support secret.)

Anyway, it was a joy to discover Brooks and to appreciate her incredible screen presence and legacy nearly a century later.

New in the New Year

Like many people, I've been exploring and joining alternative alternative social media communities and working to expand the reach of Rob Hanes Adventures.

In addition to this blog and my current Facebook, Twitter and Instagram feeds, you can now find me on Hive Social (@randywcg) and Mastodon (@wcgcomics@mastodon.art).

I've also added to my sales platforms—just before the turn of the year, I joined GlobalComix, where you can read my books digitally (and download PDFs), adding to my platforms at Amazon/Comixology, IndyPlanet, and the Hoopla Digital Lending Library.