Echoes of the 1960s

The opening night of "Walking the Volcano" went over exceptionally well. That was a great relief to me, but I suspect a much greater relief to the four-person cast -- Heather Girardi, Marya Lowry, Robert Walsh and Christian Pedersen -- and director MJ Bruder Munafo. I have only been with them a week; they've been working on the show since the beginning of the month. It's a complex piece consisting of eight scenes, each involving different characters, settings and time periods. The connecting thread is the fallout from the 1960s.

The title refers to the willingness (even eagerness) of the generation that grew up during that time to defy convention, take risks, explore freedoms and challenge the status quo. The first act features Heather and Christian in scenarios that unfold between 1964 and 1979; in the second half, Bob and Marya show us similar sorts of people dealing with the challenges of aging, trying to put their pasts into perspective and attempting to repair broken relationships. Heather and Bob have one scene together in the second act as a tough-talking, hard-living young woman and her father, a sort of shaman who now spends his days drinking and laughing at reality TV. So Heather is in five scenes, Bob and Christian each have four and Marya has three. Each new scene involves extensive costume changes (which is where I come in) and, in most cases, wigs.

I work primarily with Christian and Bob, but I have taken on the extra duty of helping Heather build up a head of steam for some of her bolder characters. For example, in the first scene she plays the rebellious daughter of an American diplomat, a rich girl who behaves badly because she knows someone will always be there to clean up the messes she makes. So, before she goes on, I'll tell her things like, "I think you could really take some lessons from Lynda Bird Johnson, little lady," or "Maybe it's time for you to go back to finishing school." That gets her temper boiling. Similarly, when she's about to go out as a Grace Slick-style rocker determined to sell her song "Basement Blues," I make a point of saying, "Ugh, that 'Basement' song is a real turkey. Nobody wants to hear that mess anymore." By the time she struts through the curtain, she's practically foaming at the mouth. Yes, she has thanked me profusely for helping her get into the mindsets of these women, and I admit I enjoy it!

I told Christian the other night that doing this must be like running a gauntlet. The actors literally have to rush into the offstage dressing rooms, where Tessa, Andrea, Alex and I quickly help them out of one set of clothes and into the next within the space of a couple minutes. If they're lucky and nothing goes wrong, they might have time to catch their breath or get a very brief drink of water. Then they're pushed back through the curtain to take on another personality, a new voice, different body language, etc. Many actors would be terrified by this kind of challenge, but this cast has truly run with it, and the performances are uniformly sharp.

The opening night audience seemed to understand exactly what author Jon Lipsky was trying to say. They also got the jokes, which was wonderful for us to hear. A post-opening night party featured various volcano-themed foods, including a towering chocolate cake with a pool of melted red sugar "lava" around it, and a cream cheese volcano drizzled with salsa.

I have spent much of the week running back and forth to the theater for technical rehearsals and previews. I had promised myself I would take it a bit easier during the weekend, so I finally caught up with "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" Saturday afternoon in Edgartown. I went to the first matinee and was somewhat surprised to find the audience was at least 70 percent adults -- people over 18 anyway -- with only a few youngsters around.

Here is a classic Martha's Vineyard moment. The two guys sitting behind me, both probably in their early 20s, had bought a large popcorn because of the "bargain" price and then realized they had much more than they needed, even for a two-and-a-half-hour movie (I've had wastepaper baskets that were smaller than the popcorn tub they were holding). So one of the two leans over my shoulder and says, "Excuse me. Would you like some popcorn? We have way too much." I would have accepted, except that I had just had a big lunch while researching a story on Skinny's Fat Sandwiches for This Week on Martha's Vineyard; suffice to say Skinny's doesn't skimp when it comes to hot pastrami, and I was completely full. But really, where else are you going to have fellow audience members ask you to share their concessions?

The Vineyard Playhouse is dark on Sundays, so I had time to visit the John Lennon art exhibit at Mansion House. Once I got through the door, I wished I had scheduled more time to look around. Dozens of Lennon's ink drawings, cartoons, sketches and illustrations were on display, ranging from caricatures of himself to erotica to beguiling, whimsical pictures he created for his son, Sean. The presentation was underscored, naturally, with a soundtrack featuring both Lennon's solo songs and tunes with the Beatles. Talk about someone who truly embodied the spirit of the 1960s.

Prints of the art were on sale, although I got the feeling most of the visitors were more interested in the show as an opportunity to peek into the private creations of this multi-faceted man, who poured his insights, humor and heartaches into his drawings. Say what you will about his relationship with Yoko Ono, but there's no denying it was real love: The tenderness and passion he felt for her practically radiates from the portraits he drew of the two of them.

Looking at the work, I was startled to think it's been almost 30 years since Lennon's murder. How vividly I remember December 8, 1980 and the chill I felt when I first heard the news (on WLAV-FM, in fact) that Lennon had been shot to death. As much as I roll my eyes over the drawn-out, show-bizzy melodramatics surrounding Michael Jackson's passing, I try not to ridicule the people who are genuinely torn up over his death. While Jackson didn't mean much to me -- I love his work with the Jackson 5 and the "Off the Wall" and "Thriller" albums, but by the mid-'80s I felt he was already turning into a parody of himself and nothing he produced afterward really connected with me -- I remember being crushed by the loss of Lennon and I'm sure Michael's mourners feel something similar.

Making a splash at Mansion House

I don't think I've written much about Mansion House, the luxurious old-fashioned hotel located in the heart of Vineyard Haven, even though I visit there almost every day. No, I did not get a job as a chambermaid and I'm certainly not staying there as a guest (it costs much more than I could ever afford). About a month ago, I bought a three-month membership at their wonderful health club, which offers plenty of workout equipment and classes in yoga, aerobics, pilates, etc. The real attraction for me, however, was the facility's incredible 75-foot-long indoor pool, which I have been visiting regularly.

Why swim inside when you're on an island, surrounded by water? Hmmm. Head down to the beach, dip your feet in the water and see how eager you are to get in and swim for half an hour. Although the waves are slightly warmer now than they were a month ago, they are too chilly for my taste and besides, I don't do much swimming in the kind of shallow water you find at the beaches (there are copious amounts of seaweed drifting through the currents here, for one thing, and there's nothing like getting seaweed in your hair or in your face to send you running from the water).

The Mansion House pool, on the other hand, is maintained at a steady 83 degrees, just warm enough that you don't shiver or shriek when your tummy first touches the water. It's also chlorine-free: I don't know the exact name of the system they use to keep the pool clean -- they call it "Spring Water" in their literature -- but it involves using salt water instead of eye-stinging, swimsuit-bleaching chlorine to keep the pool clean. So it's sort of like swimming in the ocean, without the distractions of unpleasant plants, rocks or mysterious sea creatures brushing up against your legs. Remember that "Jaws" was filmed in this very neighborhood, so having something brushing up against you in the water can spark all sorts of gruesome memories.

The only downside to the Mansion House experience is that downtown Vineyard Haven has a very limited amount of parking spaces and finding one anywhere near Mansion House is about as common as finding a $1000 bill on the sidewalk. Many days I am forced to park several blocks away in the neighborhood district, and I could swear I get more exercise walking to and from the health club than I actually get inside. Even so, if the weather is nice, it's hard to complain about such "inconveniences."

I was also surprised to see that Mansion House will soon be hosting "Come Together," an exhibit of artwork from John Lennon. It opens this Friday as a benefit for the Island Food Pantry. The artwork is also for sale, and I'm sure there will be something in my price range (ha!). Well, perhaps not, but I can afford the $2 admission fee, so I guess I have another good reason to keep on battling the Vineyard Haven traffic.