La Jolla opens spectacle-packed premiere with ‘Up Here’

Up Here—the latest project from Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez—opened at La Jolla Playhouse last night…

The cast of 'Up Here' bring to life anything in Dan's mind, and Dan's got a lot on his mind. (Photo-Matthew Murphy/ San Diego Union-Tribune)

The cast of ‘Up Here’ bring to life anything in Dan’s mind, and Dan’s got a lot on his mind. (Photo-Matthew Murphy/ San Diego Union-Tribune)

Now, before jumping into this review, we should acknowledge the elephant in the room.  And the gorilla.  And the giraffe.  And the ninja.  And the quintet of figures hiding in the corner.

As for the elephant, let us recognize the multitude of eyes that are, have been, and will be scrutinizing the development of Up Here.  As the first project for the husband and wife songwriting team since their immense success with Frozen, the creative duo face enormous pressure from both musical theatre nerds and casual “Let It Go” hummers everywhere.

As for the gorilla and the giraffe, they are Up Here’s choreographer and director*.  These two powerhouse talents— Joshua Bergasse and Alex Timbers—also come with their fair share of expectation.  Timbers last brought success to La Jolla Playhouse with Peter and the Starcatcher(s).  Bergasse’s choreography for Broadway’s On the Town recently earned a Tony nom.  (He’s already got an Emmy for his work on Smash.)

Regarding the ninja, in general, it’s worth mentioning there is one in this show; in particular, let us recognize that this show conjures characters as quickly as our protagonist—Dan—can imagine them.  That anything could appear out of thin air can be a luxury in storytelling, but it also poses a risk.  Dan’s “anything” includes but is not limited to boy scouts, lumberjacks, wizard cats, cacti Rockettes, and Pacific Islanders.

And as for that group in the corner, wait…who is that over there?  I can’t quite see them…OH!  It’s the cast of Disney Pixar’s new animated film, Inside Out!  Joy, Sadness, Disgust, Fear, Anger!  Come on out here!  No need to hide!  It is only a coincidence that your movie came out mere months prior to Up Here’s opening and deals with the same conceit of personified emotions.  No hard feelings.  But since the film was first, the chances are likely that when describing Up Here, laymen will say, “You know, it’s like Inside Out:  The Musical!”

…Now that we’ve identified these imaginary forces in the room and the mammoth pressures they place on the success of the show, let’s deal with the imaginary forces onstage.  The catchphrase from La Jolla marketing has been “a musical comedy with a lot on its mind”:  a brilliant description.  This review can’t even start without a five-paragraph detour.  Put plainly, it’s a lot.  And that’s partly the point.  The human mind is colorful, noisy, and relentless, and so is Up Here.

A thirty-something IT guy named Dan (Matt Bittner) and a spunky t-shirt designer named Lindsay (Betsy Wolfe) wonder whether they can really ever know each other. (Photo-Mathew Murphy

A thirty-something IT guy named Dan (Matt Bittner) and a spunky t-shirt designer named Lindsay (Betsy Wolfe) wonder whether they can really ever know each other. (Photo-Mathew Murphy

When the runaway train of Dan’s mind chugs into a station for a moment of calm, the audience is able to digest and connect with this fragile, modern love story.  These moments of relative stillness in a maelstrom of thought are also the most enchanting bits of storytelling.  Dan and Lindsay’s “I Feel Like I’ve Always Known You” is warm and simple.  Lindsay’s titular-eschewing number “Up There” is a heartfelt plea for Dan to communicate with her.  The duet “Like a Stranger” that they share in their respective analyst’s office is hilarious and clever.  But the action rarely stays settled for too long as Dan’s inner demons propel him ever onwards—usually into a production number.  The show teeters constantly between tender and lollapalooza.

Matt Bittner portrays our hero with impish, introverted charm.  Betsy Wolfe endows Lindsay with pluck and spirit.  Both have pipes to spare.  One advantage of the aforementioned moments of stillness is being able to enjoy listening to these two sing without distraction.  The rest of the ensemble portrays dozens of characters.  Dozens.  The cast of internal characters more or less forms two camps:  Dark Forces and Light Forces.  The quartet of Dark Forces include Cool Guy (Andrew Call), Cool Girl (Gizel Jiminez), Humbug (Devere Rogers), and Critic (Jeff Hiller).  At odds with these forces are Mr. Can-Do (Devin Ratray) and Captain of the Guard (Kikau Alvaro).  In particular, Hiller and Alvaro elicit guffaws.  The strong ensemble delivers explosive vocals and dance.  Kudos also to Eric Petersen—in a nod to Kristen’s own brother who is undiagnosed but lies somewhere on the spectrum—who portrays Lindsay’s slightly touched brother, Tim.  Though Tim’s situation is secondary to Dan’s, this bit of characterization adds richness.  When the moral of the story comes around for Dan and Lindsay that we never really can know everything about people “up here,” we also think of Tim.

Two major concepts of the show prove to be the greatest potential obstacles to an audience’s understanding.  Firstly, the parallel story of ‘The Rock’ gives a humorous history of Manhattan’s geology while helping us feel pride, fear, and joy for an “inanimate” object.  (As a side note, The Rock’s etude is quite lovely.)  Dan’s story collides—rather literally—with The Rock’s at the climax of the show.  The second obstacle is Tim’s mantra “There is no such thing as the number one.”  Despite a musical number with the same name providing a lengthy exegesis on the matter, the audience’s attention bounces between singer, animation, and unfolding action—missing half the explanation.

For all its production value, Up Here is a simple story that shows immense heart.  Timbers and Bergasse manage those heartfelt moments the best, but all of the flash is also fun.  Scenic designer David Korins brings a set that moves easily between the interior mind and the exterior world, almost reminiscent The Drowsy Chaperone at timesDavid J. Weiner’s lighting design is—to quote the show itself—“kaleidoscopic.”  Costume designer Ann Closs-Farley deserves praise for simply the sheer quantity and variety of costumes required for this whimsical story.   Music Director Aron Accurso leads a first-rate orchestra.

No doubt, Up Here will continue to grow and seek a life on Broadway.  La Jolla Playhouse has proven to be a nurturing place for works at this stage of development, and Up Here is lucky to be in their capable hands.  Maybe that elephant could go in the show.

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Up Here runs at La Jolla Playhouse through September 6.

*Any likeness between the creative team and actual jungle creatures is purely coincidental. 

#66Kicks: An Epic Trip on the Mother Road

In a stroke of uber-Throwback Thursday-ness (and some might say self-indulgence), I am celebrating this #tbt with a retrospective of my epic road trip west.  I departed Belleville, IL for San Diego, CA one year ago today.  My itinerary would be as whimsical as I pleased.  My course would be Route 66 as much as was possible.  My philosophy would be to embrace adventure everywhere.  I wanted to taste road food.  I wanted to see kitsch.  I wanted to take in both the natural and man-made wonders of our country.  I wanted to see the guts of America.

And I wanted to start a new chapter of my life.

Travel–when done properly–changes you.  I don’t think anything could have prepared me more fully for the transforming experiences of this past year than last August’s cross-country road trip.  If you find yourself at a crossroads in life, take a journey.  You might discover loved ones waiting for you at the end.

If you’d like an extra large helping of #66Kicks, check out the full gallery.  But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

A Love Letter from a ‘Prophet’ to His ‘Native Place’

On a recent visit home, I was sitting at the piano at St. Luke’s Church in Belleville, subbing for a friend who was on vacation.  It had been a wild ride in the weeks preceding that Sunday.  I had finished year one of grad school.  I had gone to Australia to meet with musical theatre folks from all over the world.  I was back in Belleville for the premiere of Just Pretend.  And so when the Gospel rolled around at this particular mass on this particular Sunday, I was amused to hear the age-old adage in Mark:  “’A prophet is not without honor except in his native place.”

This reading struck me at a curious time considering a) how much thought I’d given to leaving my “native place,” b) how far I had recently traveled from it (another continent, in fact), and c) how many times my friends and family asked the well-meaning but constant question about what I’m doing after graduation (ie-“Will you be coming back to your ‘native place?’”)

Raise your hand if you’ve ever struggled with that tug between the place where you’re a prophet and your native place.  Oh, you too?  Well good.  Of course, I have some thoughts.

The first is an exchange I shared with my classmate, Liv.  We were both commenting last spring how many offers for shows we were getting…now that we weren’t in our home towns.  As soon as casting season began in January-February, I started getting emails ranging from “Will you be in town this summer?” to “When does school end for you?” to “I’d like you to play _____ if you’ll be here in August.”  It was very flattering.  As Liv put it, “Once you move away, you’re exotic.”  Liv hails from Denmark, and so you can imagine just how exotic she must be to her fellow Danes right now as a San Diego transplant.  So in one regard, contrary to the words of JC, maybe you can be a prophet in your native place.  Maybe your native place craves you once you’re away.

The second thought deals with choosing to be away from your native place.  One of the main reasons I chose to go back to school was because I needed some personal incubation time.  Another classmate, Kikau, often uses the phrase “pulling off the road.”  I was eager for more professional training, and I wanted to change the balance of my performance life and my teaching life.  After a great deal of soul-searching (ahem, did you read my series called “Something’s Coming”?), I decided I needed to do this process “away.”  I simply didn’t think it was going to be successful otherwise.  The danger of status quo was simply too great.

Of course, what I was feeling was nothing different than what plenty of people feel:  modern society considers moving away to college to be an important part of development; restless souls with wanderlust in their hearts set off on long journeys to “find themselves”; and people of faith recount “mountaintop” experiences.  All of these transformations share a commonality.  They all take place away from normal.

Is the “away” factor a real thing or just a phenomenon of perspective?  In my situation, I argue that the “away” factor is both real and necessary.  So if you also feel that “away” is a real—and sometimes essential—component to transformation, the next question is:  Where do you go from there?  Once you’re transformed, should you even attempt to go back to your native place?  The verse in Mark* that follows Jesus’ famous quote could be a compelling argument against it:

“Jesus said to them,/ ’A prophet is not without honor except in his native place/ and among his own kin and in his own house.”/ So he was not able to perform any mighty deed there…”

So Jesus—Jesus—was not able to do any mighty deed back in Nazareth?  Any mighty deed?  Good grief.  My mother is wringing her hands right now.  She’s already concerned I’m never coming home.  Then the Gospel—the Gospel—has to go and make her worry even more?!  Thanks, Mark.

But this famously quotable line speaks to that tug between the place where you’re from and the place where you’re going.  Those who don’t feel an attachment to their native place find it hard to relate to those who do.  Conversely, those who sense the invisible cords that tie them to home need almost no description when commiserating about that feeling amongst each other.  So back to my mother, what can I say to calm her hand-wringing?

Mom, if you’re reading this, it means you navigated successfully to my blog.  On a computer!  I’M PROUD OF YOU!  Mom, I’m sure that Mary was really happy to have Jesus back in the house during Mark’s story.  She probably made him kugel.  And then she probably heard him talking about all this native place nonsense, and she was all like “Excuse me?  What do you mean you’re not without honor among your own kin and in your own house?!  Now, sit down and eat your kugel, young man!” 

But Mom, I have two things to say.  First, I don’t know if I totally agree with Jesus.  Yeah, I might be wanting to go off and attempt mighty deeds in other places, but someday, I will attempt to do mighty deeds back in my native place, too.  Like Brad Pitt rebuilding New Orleans!  Wait, is he from Springfield, MO?  Or maybe Oklahoma?  Ok, that’s a poor example.  But secondly, Mom, I think I need a little more time in my non-native place.  My scheduled time “away” in San Diego totals two years, but even Jesus had three years to make a name for himself.  And he was in the gifted program.  Like really giftedSo I might want need to go off to New York or Chicago or London or Branson for a while and see what I can do.  But Mom, I promise I’ll be back when the time is right. 

My mom has never made kugel, but her apple cake is the stuff of this prophet’s dreams.  Rest assured, I’ll be back for it.  Mighty deeds work up an appetite.

*For your information, the aforementioned passage is Mark 6:4-5.  Curiously, though, each of the four Gospel writers recounts this story in some way.  So there’s strong testimony pointing to this lesson in scripture.  Fascinating!

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