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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Oct. 25, 1990)
Thursday, October 25, 1 990 The Battalion Page 5 Stop! in the name of good taste, Mary By JOHN MABRY The story of the Supremes, one of the most successful groups in rock history, is, by now, a legend — three young, black girls from the Detroit projects sing and dance their way to the top of the pop charts and into America’s hearts. In her 1986 autobiogra phy, Drea/ng'/rV, former Supremes member Mary Wilson revealed some of the nasty goings-on behind the fairy tale — the manipulation of Mo town artists by then-president Berry Gordy, the cutthroat behavior of lead singer Diana Ross, and, of course, the tragic fall of Florence Ballard, the Supreme who became a martyr to many fans when she died on welfare at the age of 32. After reading Supreme Faith ($19.95, HarperCollins Publishers), Wilson’s 1990 follow-up, however, it is obvious that Wilson should have stopped with the first book. What Supreme Faith lacks is exac tly what made Dreamgirl the most successful autobiography in music publishing history — information not about Wilson, who only sang “oohs and ahhs” behind Ross’s lead vocals and little else, but an insider’s look at other more notorious artists behind the trademark “Motown Sound.” Supreme Faith, however, focuses primarily on Wilson’s failed mar riage and her futile efforts to keep the group alive after Ross left in 1970. But, let’s face it, Mary — most people probably don’t remember: 1. your name, and 2. that the Supremes continued REVIEW into the ’70s (the group had only a handful of meager hits after Ross left). Throughout the book, however, Wilson acknowledges the Ross-less Supremes as successful, and herself as talented. But, considering her musical track record, she is clearly not the star she’d like you to think she is. Wilson, in fact, has never sung lead vocals on a hit single. To read a book written from such a disillusioned and entirely incorrect perspective can get to be, quite frankly, annoying. For instance, the first paragraph in the liner of the book reads, “Su preme Faith begins in 1970... While Ross has only one Top-10 hit in the next four years, the Supremes (now with Jean Terrell) see hit after hit... ” Wrong, again. Diana Ross hit Bill board’s #1 position with “Ain’t No Mountain High” in 1970 and the same position in 1973 with “Touch Me In the Morning.” Wilson also forgot to mention the fact that dur ing this time period Ross made a hit movie and was nominated for an Academy Award. When Wilson finally has to admit the failure of the new Supremes, she, in true fashion, blames it on Berry Gordy’s failure to promote their records, not on a lack of talent. When Wilson discusses more no torious artists than herself, as she did most of the time in Dreamgirl, the book becomes more interesting. Wilson’s favorite topic in Supreme Faith is, as it was in Dreamgirl, Diana Ross, or Diane, as she calls her in the books. While Dreamgirl confirmed what people had long suspected about Ross — that she could be a manipu lative, conniving person — Wilson’s description of Ross’ antics in Su preme Faith now come as no sur prise. Although Wilson insists that she still loves Ross, it is obvious that Wil son is resentful of Ross for leaving the group and has no qualms about capitalizing on it. No one likes a bad loser, and my prediction for Supreme Faith is that no one is going to like it, either. And while Dreamgirl is an inter esting book, Mary Wilson’s latest ef fort is proof that she’s simply run out of names to drop. iza is prepared to ver told. The Ag- a’s production of n Stoker, rnmitment to the in Bryan-College iv forms of dance ultufal audiences [ 'he anti-hero has traveling Vegas- music instead of ■monies take him e to see for your- fferent majors at h, a biochemistn and pyscholog) :ard, formerly of ■cieved her bach- from University but has choreo- ael’s Academy in October 25 and -e $4 for general rmation and res- ices with CouaI in Danza’spro- Dlogy major Kelli Problems distract ‘Monique’ audience from thrills By JOHN MABRY Lackluster performances from a brassy script make StageCent- er’s production of the mystery/th riller “Monique” a less-than- thrilling evening of theater. The first disappointment is not the acting, but set designer Scott Bagley’s living-room set, or the lack thereof. Unfinished edges, doors that do not shut properly and inter mittent wall trim are defects that not only make the set extremely unappealing, but are distracting as well. For instance, the audience can clearly see straight through a set of double doors to a white sheet that draped the backstage area. And not only does the acting space itself look bad, the furnish ings selected obviously conflict with the late 1950s French set ting. While the costumes suggest the period, the set looks like a mix ture between early-’70s craft overdose and Hallmark waterco lorstationary: electric purple and bright blue walls hung with such 1950s items as a brown macrame owl and woven paper-plate hold ers. The wooden-framed sofa’s cushions are beige and decorated with big flowers in various earth tones. About as French as apple pie and baseball. Bagley’s lighting? Imagine the mentioned scene washed in a dim yellow haze. That, I think, speaks for itself. To add to the anachronisms, director Charles Pitman chooses to play period show music like Steely Dan’s “Do It Again” and Phil Collins’ “In the Air.” If I hadn’t known beforehand that “Monique” takes place in the 1950s, I would have placed the time of the action somewhere be tween the moon landing and disco. Set, lighting and music, of course, are theatrical elements long forgotten when the acting in a production is operating at full force. Most of the performances in “Monique,” however, only em phasize the technical shortcom ings. Although he looks every bit the Frenchman, Dwight Scott Miller’s portrayal of Fernand Ravinel, the principal character, just isn’t strong enough to carry the play. Although his character goes through turbulent emotional REVIEW changes — disgust, burning pas sion, guilt, fear — Miller chooses to be quietly worried throughout the entire play. Instead of cre ating empathy for Fernand’s situ ation, Miller’s deflated perfor mance makes it quite difficult not to discard him as a mere wimp. And although his nervous, ag itated performance is appropri ate in certain scenes, it greatly hinders his believability in others. Miller’s flatness in the begin ning of the play does little to con vince us that he is so overly con sumed with his flaming desire for Monique that he would actually go so far as to murder his wife. The biggest disappointment of the evening, however, is Doree Fackler’s performance as the murdered wife, Lucienne. Fackler has some of the best written material to work with in the play but she never comes close to living up to her charac ter’s tremendous potential. The witty, saucy Lucienne, is not given an ounce of life by Fackler. So many remarkable op portunities for laughter are com pletely passed by. Instead of be ing colorful, Fackler appears as if she is merely reading the lines off of a teleprompter. Danyah Arafat’s Monique, however, is as refreshing as Fackl er’s Lucienne is stale. Arafat, clearly the most out standing thing about “Monique,” is a joy to watch whether she is barking at Fernand like a watch dog or lounging seductively cat like on the sofa. Clearly establishing the sireni- cal Monique right off the bat, Ar afat manages to do the one thing that most of other actors seemed to forget — make specific charac ter choices. While Arafat is in control, the others seem lost and out of focus. And although she is short, Arafat’s command of her body and voice manages to el evate her above the others. The two exceptions are Laura Egg, who plays the neighbor girl, Lisette, and Harold Presley, who gives a great performance as the suspicious Inspector Merlin. The one scene between him and Ar afat is the most convincing in the play. But both Egg and Presley have minor roles, and, unfortunately, the play drags Js. ^ 1—| , -> u T * w vJSSSSp * . ,/ - 8| * * £ m ailf l §#» PHELAN M. EBENHACK/The Battalion Ferdinand (Dwight Scott Miller) and Monique (Danyah Arafat) scheme in the presence of his wife (Doree Fackler) during Stage- Center’s presentation of “Monique” in Bryan. This problem is only exacer bated by many of Pitman’s direc torial choices. One example is the long scene when Monique and Fernand carry Lucienne’s corpse from room to room. Although much of the scene is played in silence, the stage time is made even more lengthy by Pitman’s failure to fill the time with bits of stage busi ness to keep the audience’s atten tion. Often Pitman even leaves the stage completely empty. There are, in addition, two other minor problems with “Mo nique.” The first is that actors who are no longer on stage are al lowed to view the remainder of the play from the audience area. This is a real no-no, especially in plays of a more serious nature such as “Monique.” The second problem is an in consistency in the sound effects. The sound from the telephone onstage comes from the phone it self and later from the speakers. Also, the fact that voices on the other end of telephone conversa tions are amplified is unnecessary and distracting. “Monique,” as a result, delivers none of the mystery or suspense that the script does have great po tential for. The majority of the actors simply don’t actualize their characters, and, as a result, “Mon ique” is a thriller that thrills no one. ms * should keep nation record li ^ that you have _ on and will pre- _ng needless re =>er, your healil —ima, Ph.D,, is :=mj Coordinate' A.P. Bend health colu0 ERIC H. ROALSONThe Battalion Reba McEntire responds to the G. Rollie White crowd after Baillie and the Boys got them to their feet at a Town Hall concert. Baillie, Reba reign in Rollie while Gill sputters in concert By JOHN RICHTER Strike one up for the ladies. Although Vince Gill sputtered through Sunday night’s MSG Town Hall per formance, Reba McEntire and Kathie Baillie provided plenty of substance and flash for the three-quarters full G. Rollie White audience. RCA/BMG artists Baillie and the Boys started Sun day’s triad (a miscast of positions). I first heard Baillie and the Boys last fall during their performance with Restless Heart, a set that upstaged the night’s headlin ers. By evening’s end, Kathie Baillie and husband/gui tarist Michael Bonagura had successfully defended their crown. Two things stand out in Baillie/Bonagura’s songs: they write most of their material (unlike McEntire), and while the songs are personal, the subject matter is nei ther wishy washy nor blindly conventional. With songs such as “I Can’t Turn The Tide” and “She Deserves You,” Baillie offers an unsuperficial approach to an area that has long pandered to the static black and white notions of “isn’t love swell” and “there’s an empty bottle staring back at me.” Obviously, the audience agreed. Baillie and the Boys received a standing ovation at the end of its set, a feat unmatched by Gill and applied somewhat obligatory to ward Reba. Baillie’s gutsy deliveries and natural rap port, especially during the acoustic “Treat Me Like A Stranger,” retain enough of the simplicity that makes conventional country so endearing, yet injects aspects of a more progressive-pop approach. In this case, Bail- lie provides the best of both worlds. Country Music Association Single of the Year winner Vince Gill failed to provide as smooth a transition to McEntire. Gill never quite recovered from an awkward beginning (an awkwardness that resurfaced in his butchering of “Oklahoma Swing” during McEntire’s set), mumbling about Oklahoma and the audience’s REVIEW subsequent hissing. Interestingly, although Gill won his award for a bal lad, “When I Call Your Name” (a surprisingly weak number for a CMA winner), it was the faster-paced, dance hall-swing numbers, such as “Everybody’s Sweet heart” and “Turn Me Loose,” that went over best. Part of Gill’s awkwardness might be a result of a shift from more intimate settings to larger audiences; a fac tor propelled by the CMA award. An entertainer’s role within a club-like setting is vastly different from that of a predominantly gimmick-oriented arena setting. Inti macy and spontaneity take a back seat to isolation and choreography. The award must also have been the logic behind Gill’s positioning after Baillie and the Boys, who never theless severely upstaged the ex-Pure Prairie League singer. Performing a tight, choreographed set, McEntire closed the evening with an abrupt, hour- and five-min ute performance. Focusing, especially the second half of the set, on material from her latest release, Rumor Has It, she opened in semi-dramatic fashion with “Climb That Mountain High,” utilizing fog, lights and an extended platform. From there McEntire intermixed ballads such as “You Lie” and “One Promise Too Late” with jazzier, choreographed numbers, including Otis Redding’s “RESPECT,” the traditional, Bobby Gentry-penned “Fancy,” and “Walk On” from ’89’s Sweet Sixteen. Although McEnitre is more revered for her ballads, it was mostly the'uptempo numbers that demonstrated See Reba/Page 8