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Show ChRONicU Paqe Six FRSdAy, DecEMbER ACCENT -ON 4, 1987 ENTERTAiNMEN- T- Audience eats up 'old chestnut' now at PMT By Arlene Calkins Chronicle staff writer You'd think that an old chestnut like Kaufman and Hart's "You Can't Take It With You" would get maybe a few polite laughs, a chortle here and the occasional giggle there. This was not the case Wednesday evening, when the play opened at the Pioneer Memorial Theatre. The audience ate it up. The story centers on the Sycamore family. They are as American as apple pie. Some would say that's where the resemblance ends. Not me. Sure, they're all a little different they all march to the beat of a different drummer, but it's a great beat. Every character is a study in oddity. Director Thomas Gruenewald put together a fine ensemble cast. Gruenewald guided them into producing what I consider the best play of this season. So far. All the players gave an excellent performance in their own rights: Not once did I wish for any character to hurry up, say his or her lines and leave. In fact, despite the hour length, I wanted it to two and one-ha- lf go on and on. I like old chestnuts. It was good to see Richard Mathews as Grandpa Vanderhof, the central figure of this play. Grandpa left a possibly lucrative career 25 years before the play begins. He wanted to spend his life doing the things that mattered to him. Nothing else made sense. He spends his time going to funerals and commencements. Mathews did an excellent job of bringing this character to life. His sense of timing saved him from being upstaged by Max Robinson. Robinson played Boris Kolenkhov, Essie's Russian ballet teacher and family friend. Robinson must be a favorite of Utah audiences, because I heard several blue-hairladies squeal with delight when he made his grand entrance. Rightly so. He was wonderful. His brooding Kolenkhov reminded me of a young Mischa Auer in "My Man Godfrey" (1936). It is interesting that with such a flamboyant character, he did not overdo it. That takes skill. Special mention should be made of Bette Henritze, who plays Penelope the ditzy mother of the Sycamore clan. Penny has been writing plays for eight years. This was delivered a Bv John Pecorelli Earth. Sun. Moon Love and Rockets Big Time records If you think Love and Rockets is just the sad commercial remains of death-a- rt rockers Bauhaus, just listen to the opening track here called "Mirror People." Bass guitars, bass drums, bass keyboards and bassy lead guitars dominate the mix, and vocalist Daniel Ash mourns tongue-in-chee- k, "I wish I could be nothing at all." Now, if you think Love and Rockets is just a sad Bauhaus rehash, listen to "Lazy," a gleeful, unaffected tune- that brings to mind both the Crickets and the Jam. Or there's the sweeping, Floydian - - I V m typewriter to her home by Let's not leave out the rest of this marvelous cast. The Sycamore family is composed of Paul (Alan Nash) and Penny (Bette Henritze), their daughters Alice (Joyce Cohen), Essie (Maureen Brennan) and Essie's husband, Ed (Richard Cottrell). Brenda Thomas, Gene Pack, Victor A. Morris, Don Cosney, Patrick Page, Margaret Crowell, Robert Peterson, Mary Ethel Gregory, Robert Pickett, Steven Kissel, Kent Hadfield and Marsha Miller round out the rest of the cast of crazies, drunks and snobs. I regret that there isn't space enough to devote a paragraph to each one of these marvelous actors. They deserve the praise. I will say, there arose a great, collective sigh when Patrick Page made his entrance. George Maxwell should be commended for his beautiful, family-orientsetting. There were lots of special touches and effects that really helped to make this production work. Ariel BalliPs costumes were right on the mark for each character. "You Can't Take It With You" was a delight. I think it would make a terrific early Christmas present for someone you like. It continues at Pioneer Memorial Theatre! until Dec. 19. lftr m f ed and Rockets' album Chronicle assistant feature editor ; mistake and she figured that it was a sign for her to take up a writing career. ed Love Jii not her chosen avocation. Someone l2 With Liberty and Justice for... Agnostic Front Combat Records If you still find totally predictable thrash formulas at all intriguing, this disc might please you. And I guess the lead guitarist's ratio is on par with most of nd - , ?St, of experimenters run amok in Pioneer Theatre Company's "You Can't Take It With You." Penelope (Bette Henritze) is a painter, Essie (Maureen Brennan) is a ballerina, and Ed (Richard Cottrell) works at the xylophone. A family is full of psychedelia of "The Light," the graceful melancholy of "Waiting for the Flood," in fact, there is hardly a song on this album that doesn't work its way into your head with classic pop hooks and powerful songwriting. Earth. Sun. Moon works well as catchy pop while still retaining the dark atmosphercof bands past like Bauhaus and Tones on Tail. The difference is that Love and Rockets isn't so damn serious about it. note-per-seco- if THZfSk. unforgettable songs as well. speedmetal's But frankly, a lot of people want more for their nine bucks than another example of how fast some pissed -- off skinhead can play a "D" scale. Soul Desire Alter Boys Big time These guys got their beginning when drummer Roger Rawlings couldn't find a band to play at a college dance he organized. So Roger and some friends got some instruments for the occasion and the Alter Boys were born. In spite of this inauspicious start (or maybe because of it) this band has managed a great debut album here. Soul Desire is pretty much straightfor ward rock 'n' roll with more twang than distortion. But when one of those sweet surprises like the beautiful psychedelic guitar on "Staring at the Walls," or the Stonesy piano work in "Put Me in Another Head" pops up, you know the Alter Boys won't turf in cult obscurity much longer. Big Generator Yes Atco Records Let's take a trip back in time, kiddies, see "records" on page eight Kent Anderson Will hobgoblins be fooled next time? of screaming headlines, bootleg liquor and dancing flappers. Jalopies roamed the roads like iron buffalo, dapper dames and dandies indulged their lascivious appetites, lyrical fools rode unicycles back and forth across the wings of biplanes and heater-happ- y gangsters drilled little old ladies full of holes. And then there was the infamous Hobgoblin Horror. The University of Utah was nothing more than a series of horse stables, but students, bloated on the excess of their generation," were happy enough. Until the menace from Fairyland burbled up from beneath the earth's crust. As nearly as historians can gather, it all started when a series of inexplicable dirigibles from the heavens appeared over Sugarhouse, made a one-ho1924 was a time ur circuit about the valley, then ascended back into the ether. The next day, students at the U. woke up naked, their nude forms covered with glowing geraniums that, many swore, had little faces all their own and sang John Philip Sousa marches ceaselessly. Historians say the students, not easily flustered, went about their daily routine as if nothing had happened, serene in their dominion over the rational universe. Little did they know. Little did they know. Not one day later, the entire campus was in an . to an era when polyster armies roved the dance floors, when the first eggs of the Me Generation were beginning to hatch. It is a time when rock groups toured with full orchestras, crushing smaller musical acts in their wake as they lumbered from city to uproar, people scurrying madly about, searching for reason and safety. The Park Building, glowing center of the academic galaxy, had vanished utterly. In its place stood a small, neat mound of mulch guarded by a brace of hobgoblin warriors. Administrators panicked. The labrose hobgoblins, stoic and dutiful, would not respond to human entreaty. Threats of violence would only bring a frightening clanking of weaponry from the two, enough to scare the timid academics off the site. All through the long night, department chairs and academic advisers fought to find a solution. But while they were locked away in their suffocating chambers, the hobgoblins increased their campus ranks, turning the area into a stinking oubliette of hate. By morning, with a course of action still undecided, see "Anderson" on page eight |
