Bloodletting

The Atwater Village theatre complex in the heart of town is one of my favorite little theatre spots. The companies that perform here are trendsetters that continuously turn out content, styles and idea that push the norms of theatre. The complex exists in a very residential area, with houses and apartments facing the theaters on the opposite side of the generally quiet street. For some reason this always makes me feel like I'm visiting a little theatre town/residency/village, which would pretty much be my dream.

This Saturday I was grateful to have an opportunity to catch a performance of Bloodletting by Boni B. Alvarez. Put up by Playwrights Arena, a champion of new works, diversity within content and the Los Angeles playwright, this extended run originally performed at the Skylight Theatre is now playing at the Atwater Village Theatre. What I knew going in: the show took place in the Philippines, the run had been extended, it was now Ovation recommended.

Bloodletting tells the story of Farrah and Bosley Legazpi (played by Myra Cris Ocenar and Boni B. Alvarez), a brother and sister who venture to the Philippines to scatter their father's ashes in an ancient underground river. When a severe rainstorm ceases all airport traffic, the two happen upon the closest "safest" place, a bed and breakfast of sorts run by Jenry Flores (Alberto Isaac) and his granddaughter LeeLee (Anne Yatco). As the storm rages on, mysteries of their father and extended ancestry slowly begin to unfold. Farrah begrudgingly surrenders that she just might possibly be an aswang, an individual with magical powers that can be used for good, but may be instigated by taboo practice considered violent by a traditional society. LeeLee helps Farrah to cope with the magic she has inherited, giving her a historical account of aswangs on the islands as well as some family stories, some heartwarming, some bloodcurdling. Farrah must then decide if she will chose to deny it all or accept and learn to control her power. (I bet you can guess what favorite line from the Spiderman films I want to mention.) Meanwhile, Jenry gives Bosley stories, strategies and coping mechanisms for living with aswang loved ones. 

Stylistically, this show was not my favorite, but there were aspects of it that I did like. I'm not really a big fan of the whole magical realism genre. Although I appreciated the cultural folklore, I was more interested in the fascinating cultural differences in communication, relationships and daily ritual. As someone very unfamiliar with this dialect, I thought the language and accents sounded beautiful and I loved listening to Jenry and LeeLee speak to their Americanized guests. The fully realized set really brought me into the thick, wet jungle of the Philippines and Jenry's traditional bamboo hut style home. I liked Farrah and Bosley's family dynamic and differences as brother and sister, I just kind of lost interest in the whole aswang conflict. Which could totally be me, the magical element just messed with my suspension of disbelief and kind of got me out of it at times. I felt like there was more potential for me to get even more freaked out by the context and the danger that was looming in their situation.

What did the show make me want to change about myself? To be honest, if you asked me right when I walked out of the theater I would have said "not much." But looking back on my notes, now I would probably say that it would make me ask more of my family about our history (which I actually have been doing more often since the holidays) and also to check in with my family more frequently and informally. We do take our families for granted, and it's not until they have passed on that the questions we have always wanted to ask them find the words in our minds to be asked. I also began to think about how much our families know about us, and when people outside our families know more about us than the people we are supposed to be closest with.

This was not my personal favorite show. However, I enjoyed enough of it artistically that I absolutely look forward to supporting more Playwrights Arena productions in the future. You can catch Bloodletting at the Atwater Village Theatre now through January 29th.

The Lion

I am always wary of the one man show. Especially a one man musical performance. But I heard this one was pretty good and that it had some international acclaim, so of course I went.

Throughout the first few numbers I kept wondering to myself I was listening to a true story. Maybe he's just a really good storyteller, I thought.

By about the fourth number, I knew that there was no way this could not be a true story. Wow.

"Guitar: my greatest source of joy."

In The Lion, Benjamin Scheuer very honestly, openly, seamlessly, emotionally, acoustically and electrically tells us his incredible life journey. What we see on stage is Ben and about seven different guitars. No sheet music to be found, just this amazingly cute guy and his acoustic guitar, opening the front page to the story of his life that started with a "Cookie-tin Banjo" crafted for him by his father. I feel like a child listening to his story, of his painful yet beautiful relationship with his dad, his struggling to cope with his dad's passing, the sights, sounds and romance of young adulthood New York, battling cancer and his personal realization of what family is. I feel like a child because I never once find myself guessing what might happen, it just falls out into the room as we hang on his every word. Ben's admitting to never having trained as an actor at the post show discussion had more than a few people gasping in surprise; major props to director Sean Daniels who had us listening there with open ears and eyes from the edges of our seats.

Definitely a little Moritz Stiefel action going on in this angsty "Saint Rick" number, while cooped up in his boarding school dorm with his trusty electric guitar.

The musical variety within the piece was beautifully pieced together to present an array of musical styles and sounds while weaving together Ben's compelling journey. What this man can do with a guitar pretty much blew my mind and I will DEFINITELY be giving his studio recordings a listen on Spotify (DISCLAIMER: I actually have it playing right now) (DISCLAIMER: I have been listening to it on repeat for days). At the post show conversation, he mentioned that even though this is the final series of performances in his nearly three and a half year world tour, producers of the show have considered continuing it further with a new actor in the role of Ben. "I don't care the gender of whoever plays me, I don't care what their race is," he told us, "I would love to see that, who plays me and what they bring to the story. They just have to be able to play the guitar for this show." He went on to tell us that he had practiced just the opening riff for the first number for hours a day for weeks before being able to play it correctly. He told us that initially the show had been much harder for him musically, as he had written music that was very challenging, almost too challenging for him. Three and a half years later, he can play it while having a conversation, it's second nature. So, it's hard to imagine anyone else mastering this music, paired with the emotional connection to it, in the way that he has done. To get an idea of the sound, it was almost like Glen Hansard performing a Jason Robert Brown show with a few cameos by Norbert Leo Butz and some nods to Spring Awakening, in the best way possible. The opening sequence even reminded me a little of the sounds of Bela Fleck. Throughout the performance I'm sitting there mesmerized, and in between beats thinking that he should compose music for films; this is amazing.

Ben paints a very clear, musical picture of what it is like to to love a family member, even when they treat you poorly. As a child he does not really try to understand why his father is so good to him sometimes, giving him the greatest gift he could ever ask for, music, and then go ahead and berate, condescend and belittle him for seemingly inexplicable reasons. He explores the love/hate relationships that lie within our closest family ties. Through his story, he points out that we intrinsically we go on loving them. What this show changed in me is my accepting of that. Sometimes I'll be harsh with myself, thinking, how can I go on loving them when they're "bad" like this? Sometimes we can't help but love, and that is a good thing. Because maybe they need our love in that moment.

I wasn't sure if I should share the only thing I didn't love about this show...because it is personal and subjective...and overall I really do like this show and was absolutely moved by it (definitely shed some tears during the number where dead dad gives mom a phone call)... but here goes. The show gave me a little bit of social angst. Because I feel like this was little bit of a #richboyproblems story thread. Yes, the struggles are universal. We all deal with death, depression, illness, broken hearts and hopefully the healing power of music. But, most people's families are not able to move abroad to the UK after their father's death, for no reason, and then send their kids to boarding school. I didn't get the feeling that the mother had any type of career, and as the father was a Harvard and Columbia graduate, there was probably some life insurance/family trust looking out for them. In the beginning of the play Ben is wearing this adorable blue suit and gradually removes pieces of it throughout the play until he's barefoot in his pants and shirt only. I thought this might be symbolic of sheding a uniform his father might have worn and slowly learning to "play guitar like me," instead of like his father, whom he yearned to play like from a young age. We never hear about Ben acquiring any type of income while living in New York with is girlfriend, where they can seemingly see the (Brooklyn?) bridge from their bedroom. In his battle against cancer the struggle lies in the physical and not the financial. His mother and brothers move back from England to take care of him in Manhattan. I still don't know what they do for work, but maybe that is the point.  After beating cancer he has the luxury of retreating for seven weeks to "some golden castle town" where he is able to spend time with himself privately, gain back his health, hair and natural body weight. As a result he begins composing music for this show and three and a half years later he's traveled the world telling his story. Where is the money coming from? I'm making a lot of assumptions here; there is so much I don't know. Maybe there wasn't room in the music to articulate on these factors. By leaving them out, I personally am thinking about them more. But I would guess that most of the upper middle class white audience at the Geffen Playhouse is not. If I was raised in a similar socioeconomic level as Ben, I'm sure none of this would have even crossed my mind. But I was not, so it did.

Aside from THAT, I'm confident this show will move you in some capacity. If you like NPR, you will probably like this show. And honestly, just writing this review cannot express how essential and powerful Ben's music is to telling this story. Please see for yourself.

Benjamin Scheuer will be performing The Lion at the Geffen Playhouse in Westwood through February 19th. New performances have just been added and this might be your last chance to see it anywhere.

The Wholehearted

Ah. My home sweet LA theatre home, the Kirk Douglas. Home of new works, one-man/woman shows, off-beat musicals, experimental theatre, lobby activities, post show conversations and cutting edge content. Home of my now-rusty bicycle until I finally bought a car a few years ago. Home of the Douglas Plus: a short week to two week mini run in addition to the regular full-length runs throughout the season. Next stop The Wholehearted, conceived and created by Stein / Holum Projects.

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The creators describe the show as a duet. Between the camera man and Dee. Live video plays an internal, powerful part in the production.

I was intrigued upon hearing about the Kirk Douglas taking on this show, as this originally Brooklyn-based duo of writer/director Deborah Stein and performer/director Suli Holum has a history of specific, thought-provoking stories told through innovative techniques. In The Wholehearted, we are artfully, gradually invited into the gritty aftermath of Dee Crosby, world-class professional boxer, (played by Suli). In this one-woman performance, we learn a much more than you'd expect from a one act about this complex, eccentric, beautiful character. Through a live video testimonial happening before our very eyes, Dee records for her first love, Carmen, her plans to meet with her again. She tells Carmen she plans to somehow take revenge on her husband, Charlie, who allegedly stabbed and shot her in their home years earlier. But now Dee is back in the ring, actually literally living there, camping out in the gym. Charlie has recently been released early of his sentence and although Dee is stronger and quicker than ever, she feels threatened and fearful of returning home. Though flashbacks, video and some incredible country-rock inspired original numbers, we get the idea that going forward, she's not up to dealing with his abuse.  Suli did a truly amazing job of transforming into Dee. At the show's inception four years ago, she took on the challenge of training as a boxer. At this stage in the game, she's a boarder-line pro, and the choreography from the original production had to be vamped up for this new run, because now it's too easy for her! You do not want to cross this little muscle, especially in this role. Her ability to vividly portray such an array of characters is astounding. She affectionately convinces you that she's being beaten up, verbally, physically, in the ring, and in the home. Even though she's the only body you're watching on stage.  

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It's not easy to tell in the dark, but the in the round seating paired perfectly with the in the ring storytelling, bringing us one step closer, up close and personal with Dee.

The use of video in this show draws us closer into Dee's world almost more so than traditional theatre allows, perhaps to convey the evasiveness of the media and how threatening and inhuman it can be towards athletes and celebrities alike. Not to discredit the rest of the production, but the sound effects were my favorite part of the show. I'm usually not that kind of viewer, but the dings of the bell, the swooshes of missed throws, blasts of knockout punches and reaction of the commentators allowed me to close my eyes and feel the stakes of the ring and story. Had there not been a traditional, respectful, rule-abiding audience seated in the round, it would have felt exactly like a real boxing match. However, the people sitting right next to me were "secretly" eating Red Vines. Interesting...

I will admit, this show was not my personal cup of tea. I was impressed with the work of this collective and I appreciate their storytelling style and risks, although I don't think it moved me on a deeply personal level. Not every piece of theatre can do that, and every play will affect various individuals differently. Using song as a storytelling device in this particular narrative did not work for me. I believed her as a boxer; layering on the musical aspect was not effective, to me. I can see how it might be more powerful to people affected by abusive situations or even those more actively involved in the professional fighting circle. And that definitely came though in the few but powerful post show conversations I lead in the lobby, where Suli was gracious enough to join in for each discussion. I definitely want to see more shows by this collective in the future. 

The show made me want to learn more about this sport and culture. Not going to lie, I hopped on YouTube to grab a few boxing moves for my back pocket. Of course I was not able to execute them a quarter as well as Suli. She has chops. More importantly, the show raised my awareness of domestic violence. I'm privileged to live in an environment where I assume that everyone is healthy and safe, that everyone is ok. But unfortunately we just can't assume that anymore. The show makes me want to check in more often and hopefully contribute to preventing cases like this, little by little. 

The Wholehearted runs December 2-11 at the Kirk Douglas Theatre in Culver City.

Amélie: A New Musical

When I found out that the iconic French film Amélie was being adapted for the stage in musical form, I was concerned. This is one of my favorite foreign films and it is dynamic for many reasons. The vivid, swift style of cinematography is an active story-teller, bringing the character Amélie’s humorously tragic, yet hopeful history to life. Each character has a quirky, dark, comical attribute, yet the spirit of love is alive though the talent and distinct beauty of the actors who portray them. These did not seem like the type of characters to burst into song, but I am always curious and open to watching a playwright or director’s interpretation of a well-known (or otherwise) story unfold on stage.

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In the pre-Broadway opening of Amélie: A New Musical at the Ahmanson Theatre, it would seem as though my concerns were fulfilled. Starring Hamilton headliner Phillipa Soo in the title role, the show seemed like the most Broadway-safe production of Amélie that could have been created, but I guess financially that is the point. I suppose that for such a dynamic film, I was hoping for a more visionary or groundbreaking theatrical approach.

One of the reasons this story works as a film is that we are able to deal with many plot points, often simultaneously because of the quick cuts and transitions on screen. On stage, since this is a much more intimate experience, since we are there with the living, breathing actors, it just seemed like there was a lot going on and not enough time to earn the moments or conclusions to each mini mystery. In the film it works, on stage it did not.

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Not surprisingly, Soo is the highlight of this production. Two friends of mine that had already seen the show told me that they couldn’t help but imagine Soo singing her role in Hamilton while watching her as Amélie from their fourth row seats. At first I thought this was a bit naive, but I found myself doing the exact same thing on opening night. Her voice is so incredibly gorgeous, that you can’t help but try and imagine her singing a better song. In a recent NPR interview, director Pam MacKinnon commented that Soo had originally been workshopping this production when she was given the opportunity to workshop Hamilton. The show is going to Broadway in March and yes, she will probably receive a Tony nomination for Best Leading Actress in a Musical. But once again, she won’t win. Because although she is amazingly talented, she had no opportunity to prove herself in this production: no emotionally taxing transformation, no complex physical choreography, and no money note. This show is too easy for her. 

It wasn’t until the musical was almost over, and I was severely craving for it to pull-through in a deeper, Frencher way, that I realized something about Amélie. This is a story about an awkward waitress and a boy who works in a sex shop, not because he wants to or because his career lies in this area of interest, but because it provides him financial means. This is a story about two regular, probably struggling, people trying to find love and each other. Amélie sees the world through different eyes which is what makes the story fanciful, dark, humorous and fun. I wish the musical had made me feel that more, but this was more of something I recalled on just by putting the plot pieces together.

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Opening scene tableau. In English theatre context, a tableau describes a dramatic, moving picture, a living moving scene. In old French, it means "picture" or "painted target." In new French it means "board" or "table."

What does this show make me want to change about myself? For me at least, the big take away of the show is that we must not be afraid to face new things in life that may seem scary to us, whether that be talking to a crush, transitioning to a new home, letting go of a comfort object or moving forward past grief from a death. The play makes me want to take more risks in communication, with people I know, people I meet, people I want to meet and people I may be interested in romantically. It’s exhilarating and frightening just thinking about it! Here’s a personal example. I met a boy, another writer for a local paper, at a friend’s birthday party over the weekend. Then the other night on a solo outing to the theatre, I saw him again and greeted him by name. He was surprised to see me, and so it would seem nervous from the onset, but we ended up sitting together, talking together and talking after the show as well. I couldn’t help but wonder: if I had been seated next to him, having not met him at the birthday, would I have talked to him? Probably not. Would he have talked to me? Certainly not. But this same fear is the conflict Amélie faces throughout her entire story. Embarrassment and rejection are daunting. But, you will truly never know what will happen unless you try. I suppose the show succeeds in driving these themes somewhat, but I think could also be me recalling on the film.

Although this was not one of the better musicals I’ve seen, I wonder if I would feel differently if I had never seen the film before. Amélie: A New Musical runs at the Ahmanson Theatre at the Music Center in downtown Los Angeles December 4 through January 15. It will continue on its Broadway run at the Walter Kerr Theatre on March 9, 2017.

Icebergs

While slurping down some pre-show boba milk tea in the Geffen Playhouse lobby with my stage managing friend Mercedes (there serving as a production assistant Donald Margulies’s The Model Apartment at the smaller Geffen Space, the Audrey Skirball Kenis Theatre), her first comment to me was that I had certainly dressed the part for the show I was about to see. I looked down: tan cashmere blend sweater, chunky J.Crew be-jeweled collar, purple glasses, suede Madewell pumps...If anything this was one of my more casual theatre looks, I was wearing (premium) denim after all. I asked her what she meant. “You’ll see.”

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A little cast-love shot

Icebergs by Yale School of Drama graduate Alena Smith gives us an honest, humorous, yet insightful look into the trials and victories of the mid-thirties/pushing-forty creative professional. Set in the very present day, Calder (played by Nate Corddry), a young, successful Indie filmmaker and his aspiring actress girlfriend Abigail (Jennifer Mudge) own a styled, well-furnished home in the hip, rolling hills of Silverlake. Calder’s old buddy from Missouri, Reed (Keith Powell), comes to stay a few nights with the couple while he attends a scientific convention at UCLA. He confides in Calder that he has been dying to get away from his young daughter and expecting wife just to be by himself for once and hopes he and Calder can partake in as many parties, drugs and drinking excursions as possible on this Day of the Dead weekend. Calder laughs and agrees that they will try their best before confiding in Reed that he and Abigail have been trying to have a baby of their own. Soon Abigail's childhood friend Molly (Rebecca Henderson), a newlywed lesbian lawyer rumored to be a witch, as well as Nicky (Lucas Near-Verbrugghe), Calder’s suave, yet dense agent, turn up for the evening. Instead of heading out to a friend’s costume party, with everyone’s relationship and existence baggage out on the table, they decide to stay in for the evening and create their own, because, “it’s a weird fact about LA. Nobody likes to leave their house.” Add a little alcohol and some premium weed; before you know it, even more conflict and potential resolution bubbles to the surface.

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When I re-met with Mercedes after the performance, she asked me if I had liked the show. I hesitated, then eventually said yes. I had to think about why I liked it. And then why I had to think before making a definite statement.

The play felt like the pilot episode of a new series, introducing us to the characters while leaving room at the end for their relationships, conflicts and goals to further develop in later episodes. Through her dialogue, Smith’s commentary on this age/lifestyle are on point and part of what makes this show so funny. Boys turned men by societal necessity, nearly ripping off their button-down shirts to return to the comfort of their jeans and screen-printed tees, the idolatry of pet cats, selfies, panic attacks, the naming of plants, the popularity of improv in urban settings, industry pressure vs. creative integrity, actually liking songs we love to hate, and obsessing over “meaninglessness” in our culture, literature and media: these are things I find myself faced with every week in LA. Part of that is disturbing, part of it is beautiful and part of it is hilarious. Because what else can you do but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all? Smith has collected all of these little quirks (and then some) and artfully spun them into the characters we meet in Icebergs. And if you’ve lived in LA long enough, you may have even dated someone like each of these characters. It’s not a surprise that Smith is getting recognized for her writing talents on shows like The Newsroom and The Affair.

The acting is...good. Molly and Nicky I felt were the best written and acted characters, also excellent opposing styles of comic relief. They both have a generous share of belly-laugh lines. The actress playing Abigail was asked to come on two days before preview performances began when Thora Birch dropped out of the show for undisclosed reasons. She did well, but with only days to prepare, probably didn’t get the full prep she needed to fully develop her character. Could also be the writing, not totally sure, these are special circumstances.

While driving from Westwood to West Hollywood for a drink, Mercedes and I discussed how frustrated, sometimes infuriated we were by the characters. Indecisiveness, privilege, flippancy, and possibly co-dependence were scattered throughout the characters and it pissed us off. But, maybe that is also because we know so many real-life characters like this that already frustrate us. We also felt that the ending of the show was a bit abrupt, especially after a “first act” that kept us guessing when exactly the conflict would arise, for...kind of a long time.

What did this show make we want to change about myself? I’m not 100% sure right off the bat, which I think was the source of my hesitation when asked whether I liked the show as a whole. Looking back it makes me want to stray from the stereotypical behavior the characters are calling out in the play, but by attempting to deviate from the norm, I’m upholding the very mission of hipsterism. So I can’t win this battle. But maybe that is the point.

I recommend this show, for its cultural relevance, some excellent, hilarious characters and what it set out to do. I don’t know if this is the best play you will see at the Geffen this season, but it’s worth the ninety minutes and will cause you to think...about something. This is a good date night show for people in their 30s, for sure. Definitely something to discuss over cocktails after. The show runs through December 18th at the Geffen Playhouse in Westwood, CA.

The Beauty Queen of Leenane

Anyone who knows me knows that the Mark Taper Forum is my favorite theatre venue in California. The morning of opening night of The Beauty Queen of Leenane by Martin McDonagh, I went to get a haircut and learned from my hairdresser that that it was also his favorite. An old actress girlfriend of his (I wonder who?!) had performed there a number of times and he informed me that structurally it was modeled after the Gutherie Theatre in Minnesota. “Not a bad seat in the house,” he told me. I couldn’t agree more. Plus, there is something magical about the Taper, that based on the set design, gives it the ability to feel very up-close and intimate, or very expansive and spread out.

This show was up close and personal, in both senses of the phrase. We spend approximately two hours in what is more or less a sparse, deteriorating home in the tiny village of Leenane (Lee-NAN) in the county of Gallway, Ireland. The Irish charm and crassness of the play brought me back to my days studying abroad there, and made me miss it more. We are introduced to the mundane (almost so much so that it’s painful) lifestyle of seventy-year-old Mag Folan and her literal 40-year-old-virgin daughter Maureen. Their love/hate, nearly Stockholm syndrome relationship is complex, yet one I think many can connect to on some familial level. Maureen feels obligated to take care of her crotchety, ailing, devious mother while her sisters refuse to have have anything to do with the women. She has been caring for Mag for about the past twenty-five years. The audience can see that Maureen is dying inside, as she begrudgingly waits on Mag’s every beck and call. So when Pato Dooley, an old flame of Maureen’s, returns to Leenane from London for a local send-off party, we’re wishing just about as much as her that their reunion will blossom into a love that she, at this stage, just about needs to survive.

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Original concept photography for the Druid Theatre production

After a number of somewhat hit-or-miss seasons at the Taper, I cannot urge you enough to see this play. Do not judge a play by its poster. Fortune cookie review: incredible writing, astounding acting. This could be the greatest dark comedy I have ever seen performed. McDonagh’s script will have you laughing hysterically one minute and cringing, stomach churning the next. His exploration of these women and their relationships is as equally moving as it is haunting. So it’s no wonder that Marie Mullen returns to this script, now in the role of Mag after winning the Tony award for best leading actress in a play,  playing the role of Maureen, eighteen years ago in the original Broadway production. The script stands strong, but no one in the cast falls slightly short of delivering their character’s spirit, prerogative and humor truthfully to their audience. With the cast imported straight out of Ireland’s renowned Druid Theatre, it’s refreshing, if not awakening to see such a fully realized, developed, powerful play on the Taper stage, void of LA celebrity cameo’s, limited rehearsal time and workshop level scripts. This, is theatre.

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One of my favorite scenes. Their chemistry is awesome. But in a show constructed as remarkably as this, they are all favorites in a way.

Whenever I leave a show, I always ask myself, what does this make me want to change? This production spoke to my element of change on a personal level (vs. a global, community or political level, ect.). I would watch Maureen interacting with Pato and cringe at her choice of words and behavior, probably because I have also said/done some similar things around men, just not all in the same horrifying scene. So the play makes me want to watch my behavior involving romantic situations with men. The play also makes me want to pick my battles and be kinder to those around me. Because astonishingly, that is not always the case. We have some extreme characters in this play representing the worst of these poor qualities, but through them, we can easily see it broken down into our own lives. Well, for me at least.

The play brought me from probably zero interest in reading Martin McDonagh’s work, to like, one hundred. This could be one of the darkest, funniest dark comedies I have ever seen and his melding of the two are incredibly impressive. I’m very interested in reading more work like this or seeing how his body of work varies from this style. I had forgotten that he is also the author of The Pillowman, which I may also need to revisit. Also, love that Irish-ness. Can’t help it I guess; it’s in me blood.

I highly recommend this production. The show runs November 9 through December 18 at the Mark Taper Forum at the Music Center in downtown Los Angeles. It will continue on its US tour to the Brooklyn Academy of Music in January 2017 before heading to Pittsburgh and Ann Arbor.