Ira Antelis A Natural Winner With Vonnegut Musical: Between Time and Timbuktu

For me, Ira Antelis, was something like Roy Hobbs, the wunderkind of baseball in Bernard Malamud's The Natural, who suddenly disappeared, only to reappear to finally follow his dreams late in life. That metaphor only applies to the way the Antelis was in my life. I saw him as a student, who I also asked to do some teaching because he was so talented. At that time he was writing incredibly successful jingles and was poised for a career in Hollywood as the next big film composer (at least in my mind and fantasy). Then he disappeared from my experience.

Mysteriously, about a year ago, he surfaced in my life through FaceBook. He has been, of course, alive and well, very successful with music production and composing in Chicago. Ira visited New York on business, and we got together for brunch to catch up. He said somewhat casually that he was writing a new musical based on materials by Kurt Vonnegut.

This new work, Between Time and Timbuktu, was showcased at a reading on Thursday, January 14, to a packed audience at The New 42nd Street Studios. This truncated 90 minute version of the musical had an outstanding cast and was enthusiastically received. Timbuktu deserves its chance for a place in the sun, and maybe it will get it.

Based on materials drawn from several Vonnegut sources, Between Time and Timbuktu was originally a television play in 1972 that served as a satire on human freedom and the power of the imagination. As a musical, the materials are folded into a narrative that is sensitive and aptly paced by a skillful and varied score. The musical direction by Jason DeBord was outstanding, beautifully nuanced in a studio setting where such details are difficult to achieve.

Antelis's music serves to elevate the text, adopting a more traditional Broadway style that is a little bit Sondheim, a little bit Rodgers and Hart, and a lot Ira Antelis. The reading was presented with very little dialogue. The music moved the action, and certainly that should continue to be the direction for Timbuktu's narrative design.

Jeremy Dobrish managed to incorporate the materials from the larger domain of the full script and score to fashion a 90 minute, non-stop version that at times seemed a little disjointed. This almost always occurs when a work is truncated, and the problem is compounded when many disparate sources are drawn upon and sculpted to fit together.

Dobrish's direction created a cohesion that some how mitigated the disjointed structure, achieved by a sense of an ensemble performance by the cast, all of which were highly talented, full of energy, and focused for this reading. Gregg Edelman's "everyman" performance as the non-descript hero who wins a jingle contest that launches him into an outer space rendezvous with a distant constellation, eloquently blends the elements of victim and hero and elicits our sympathy and concern. Anita Gillette's comic profile as his mother is effective and at times outlandish...just as intended. Matt Cavanaugh threads his way through the work as the contest announcer who often establishes continuity, at times a little too high-keyed for the space we were in, but adds a deft touch of panache and style. The character of Bokonon may be a bit of a cliche from the 70s, but Cassady Leonard is somehow able to transcend this with a certain sense of wonder and fun. Highlight of the reading is Robert Cuccioli as Dr. Paul Proteus, on trial because of his belief in the human spirit and the destiny of man. His performance was riveting and elevated the moment beyond that of a reading.

Andrew Barrett's lyrics are remarkable. He catches the spirit and rhythm of Vonnegut almost better than Vonnegut. The lyrics manage to transform the TV adaptation into a an entirely new work and unifies the material. What emerges is structure and content that would make Vonnegut proud.

Ira Antellis is clearly engaged in a labor of love. In some ways the music is too good, too overwhelming, too many hits, too many highs, but this may just be the aftermath of a 90 minute extrapolation of the material. There is also a bit of a formulaic feeling to the some of the work, the comic relief song, the ballad, and the final piece, the title song, is a wonderful conception, designed to be the singable hit, but it comes too late, and I wonder if this kind of ballad still works on Broadway. But this show is in the tradition of Broadway at its best, so it's worth a try. I suspect the context may change as the show develops. There is no doubt that Antelis has a gift for melody and for music as narrative. He is as good and better than most that have had tremendous success on Broadway.

Most musicals go through radical transformations from first readings to Broadway. Here's hoping this material evolves as it should into such a hit that I can say I blogged about it before it was so well-known, and that I knew Ira Antelis when...

FIESTA on Eighth Street

There is this trio of friends that somehow seemed to materialize out of nowhere. As such they are often involved in things together, or follow parallel paths that define a singularity of purpose. These things sometimes evolve out of human experience, and there is no real logical explanation. But it is a rare and exquisite experience that you should cherish whenever and however it happens.

As it turned out during the holidays, one of the trio went out of the country, so upon return, we decided to honor the homecoming by indulging ourselves with our own fiesta, which suggests partying --- with lots of great food. Fiesta can be any festive occasion, and of course it is closely related to a feast. A feast is more than just food, it is defined as a "rich and abundant meal." And a Fiesta also implies a celebration, perhaps including dancing and singing, or musicing... and in this case our creative response was in a metaphysical context of a feast so sumptuous that we were somewhat overwhelmed.

The other of our trio suggested a new restaurant known simply as 8st Kitchen on eighth Street in Manhattan. We knew from Internet descriptions that it would be unusual, but we could not have designed on our own a more appropriate venue for our special fiesta. It was as though our friend had some intuition about how elegantly this Asian Bistro would create a special ambiance for our celebration.

8st Kitchen's cuisine is Korean, but served in small courses, French style, so that the emphasis is on tasting and savoring the moment. We began with a cocktail, Pear Soju, mostly because I am a fanatic about Soju in the same way that Toad was obsessed with motor cars in The Wind in the Willows. My friends indulged me and my madness.

We ordered a sparkling water, TAU, which is an ancient Welsh word that means "to be silent" --- quietly exhilarating in its taste, obedient and supportive as a companion to the meal. TAU is meant to be tasted, savored, slowly.

Our host and waiter was Jung-min Kim who transformed our experience into an event that might have been worthy of a Disney theme park. Every dish was presented with painstaking detail and arduous enthusiasm by our host.

Our first dish was Wan Ja Jon, bite-sized patties of beef so delicate and delicious that they seemed to melt in your mouth. The food was so tantalizing we had to deliberately slow our pace. The others of the trio put together a sequence of dishes, so the tasting experience emerged like a musical score.

The second dish was Chung Po Mook Moo Chim, a green-lentil jelly with vegetables and wasabi. It served as a delicate transition from the opening to the third course, Ba Ssak Bul Go Ki Gui, sliced Kobe rib-eye, with a flavorful sauce. This was a powerful middle section, masterfully orchestrated, deep lavish taste with lush texture.

The fourth dish and movement of this culinary suite was O Jing O Bok Keum, stir fried squid with noodles, serving to connect us to the Finale, Bo Ssam, pork belly with
pickled cabbage, daikon salad and oyster (photo by Joe DStefano), a masterpiece of collected tastes that topped off a truly memorable feast.

Our host provided a complimentary Soju drink made of richi, that served as a cadenza to the coda: another gift from the Kitchen, Dae Goo Jon, lightly pan-fried cod fillets brought to us as a surprise. This was a substantial coda worthy of our meal, introducing new tastes, but reminding us of themes from earlier courses.

Our Fiesta was not yet done. We proceeded to a small intimate concert space nearby where a composer was premiering a string duo, a trio with violin, cello, and clarinet, and an electronic sound score. This provided a sonic feast of sounds, giving some chance to refresh the senses, to realign ourselves from our sense of taste and touch, to a heightened sense of sound.

We capped the the evening at bar and restaurant, Murphy and Gonzales, which was both upbeat and low-keyed---whatever you wanted to make it. We ordered drinks (of course) and Mexican appetizers in keeping with our fiesta as a convivial fanfare to welcome the return of our friend.