MONDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2010 BOOK WORLD


An old-school reporter tracks down a story — and a killer F


by Patrick Anderson


ifty years ago the editor of the Nashville Tennessean hired me, fresh out of col-


lege, as a $65-a-week reporter for what was, in those days, a fine newspaper. My new colleagues includ- ed legends-to-be David Halberstam, John Sei- genthaler and Tom Wicker. In 1960 the pa- per supported the re- election of Sen. Estes Kefauver and the elec- tion of Sen. John Ken- nedy as president. When massive sit-in demonstrations began at downtown lunch counters, Halberstam’s tireless reporting con- tributed to their suc- cess. Meanwhile, I pounded the police beat and wrote a weekly country-mu- sic column, thus becoming a backstage fixture at the Grand


MUSIC REVIEW


Some musical lessons in balance and sensitivity


by Robert Battey Indefatigable French pianist


François-Frédéric Guy is appar- ently in the midst of a years-long survey at La Maison Française of all of Beethoven’s music for piano and strings. Last season he went through the complete piano so- natas, on Thursday and Friday of last week he offered the complete works for cello and piano with cellist Marc Coppey, next season a cycle of violin sonatas is prom- ised, and finally the piano trios the season after that. As Guy showed in Friday’s performance, he is well-equipped for such a marathon. Guy’s ear for balances was tru-


ly exemplary; playing on a nine- foot Steinway with the lid fully raised, Guy allowed us to hear Coppey’s every note, a feat that has never before been accom- plished in my experience. Guy weighted his chords with extraor- dinary sensitivity, but never gave the impression of pussy-footing. Fortes were powerful, but in a framework of equality. Thus emancipated, Coppey was able to draw an extremely wide palette of colors from his lovely Gofriller cello. While his basic sound lacked the richness and warmth of some other art- ists, particularly in his upper reg-


DANCE REVIEW


not yet breakin’ out ‘America’s Best’ finalists stick to signature hip-hop formula


by Sarah Halzack The Beat Ya Feet Kings have no


shortage of eye-catching moves in their arsenal. Their Saturday show at Dance Place was packed with the impossibly precise shoulder isolations, robotic torso clicks and high-flying backflips that have become de rigueur for hip-hop troupes. Though it featured some


strong, capable dancers — not only from Beat Ya Feet Kings, but from guest artists including Syce Game Crew, Flat Out Boyz, Swag Stars and Crazy Legs — the per- formance’s glaring weak spot was its lack of thoughtful, innovative choreography. Frequently, the performers danced in a line or some other simple formation and executed steps in unison. There was a frustrating absence of inter- esting spatial patterns, and they rarely strayed from the safety of synchronized group dancing to take on a more complex struc-


Beat Ya Feet Kings,


ture. There’s little artful construc- tion that goes into something that basic. Attempts to add a conceptual


layer to the dances fell flat. When the music to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” began playing, the dancers donned Halloween masks, but then removed them within a minute or so. The sound score cut to a different track and the dancers never picked the masks up again, making the gam- bit seem random and forced. In another piece, one dancer lay face down on the floor while others cautiously, or perhaps fearfully, approached him. Was he dead, hurt or sleeping? It was never clear. The dance that looked most polished and thought-through was the one just before the finale. Set to a mash-up of songs from artists as varied as Justin Bieber and Jay-Z, this work had more so- phisticated composition than the others and seemed to inspire the dancers to ratchet up their energy levels.


style@washpost.com Halzack is a freelance writer. SF


It was touching to watch the formidable Bourne gazing at his younger self on the screen.


Come join this most excellent be-in.” –THEWASHINGTONPOST


“EXHILARATING! B THEATRE


“Shrieks of laughter night after night.” -TheWashington Post


n Tues– Fri at 8, Sat at6&9,Sun at3&7 x Student Rush TicketsAvailable


TKTS:202-467-4600 / GROUPS: 202-416-8400 www.kennedy-center.org/shearmadness


STAATSKAPELLE Daniel Harding, conductor Rudolf Buchbinder, piano


Wed.,Nov. 3,8pm Kennedy Center Concert Hall


Schumann: Manfred Overture Piano Concerto


Home delivery makes good sense.


1-800-753-POST Brahms: Symphony No. 2 EMANUEL


AX piano


Wed.,Nov. 10,8pm Music Center at Strathmore


Program of Schubert and Chopin ANNE-SOPHIE


Sunday in Arts. deadline:Wed., 12 noon Monday in Style. deadline: Friday, 12 noon Tuesday in Style. deadline: Mon., 12 noon


The Guide to the Lively Arts appears


Tickets at the Box Office or charge by phone (202) 467-4600 Online at kennedy-center.org | TTY (202) 416-8524 | Groups call (202) 416-8400


HAIR is made possible through the generosity of The Adrienne Arsht Musical Theater Fund. Please note: this performance contains strong language, mature content, and brief nudity.


AJANI TRUTH PHOTOGRAPHY


IN SYNC: Besides a brief “Thriller” moment, Footz, left, Locs, Queen P, Stylez and Rich Boy didn’t surprise much in their program.


Wednesday in Style. deadline:Tues., 12 noon Thursday in Style. deadline:Wed., 12 noon Friday inWeekend. deadline:Tues., 12 noon Saturday in Style. deadline: Friday, 12 noon


For information about advertising, call: Raymond Boyer


Rates: Daily H $134.28 per column inch Sunday H $187.44 per column inch


202-334-7006 FAX 202-496-3814 guidetoarts@washpost.com


LAMBERT ORKIS Sat.,Nov. 13,4pm


MUTTER &


Kennedy Center Concert Hall 202-785-WPAS(9727)


BrahmsViolin Sonatas (Nos. 1,2,3) WPAS.ORG


DRESDEN B B CONCERTS B


Pianist François- Frédéric Guy


Cellist Marc Coppey


ister, his bow arm produced an impressive array of articulations and dynamics, tickling the ear. His one persistent shortcoming was neglect of phrase endings. Many times a last note would come out clipped or dry, as though Coppey had already men- tally moved on. The artists had clearly worked out their interpretations tightly together, and delivered often in- sightful readings. The “Bei Män- nern” Variations sounded like Schumann, with portentous pauses between variations and much soulful rubato. The music can take this approach, but I was glad that they were more straightforward in the sonatas that followed. The delivery of the Fugue in the Sonata in D was an object lesson (from both artists) in the art of pacing and voicing. style@washpost.com


Battey is a freelance writer.


Ole Opry . One day I blackmailed Col. Tom Parker into granting me the only sit-down, one-on-one in- terview that Elvis Presley ever gave. Those three years in Nash- ville were arguably the happiest of my life.


ROGUE ISLAND By Bruce DeSilva Forge. 302 pp. $24.99


And why this de- tour down Memory Lane? Blame Bruce DeSilva’s novel “Rogue Island” for conjuring up images of those halcyon days. DeSilva has 40 years of newspapering be- hind him, mostly with the Associated Press, and his first novel is as good and true a look at the news game as you’ll find this side of “The Front Page.” Old newspapermen — we are legion — will delight in the book, as should anyone who


appreciates a well-written, funny, sad, suspenseful look at this be- wildering world we live in.


Our hero is, of course, a report-


er, one L.S.A. Mulligan. He’s 39 years old and has spent 18 years with an unnamed daily in his home town, Providence, R.I. Along the way he won a Pulitzer Prize, but he continues to live in a shabby apartment, to drive a bat- tered Ford Bronco he calls Secre- tariat, to work for peanuts and to suffer the slings and arrows of his almost-ex-wife: “Dorcas had seemed to be a perfectly decent human being until she woke up married to me.” Undaunted, Mulligan is falling for a gorgeous reporter in her 20s, although she refuses to con- summate the matter until he passes an AIDS test. Alas, it takes the local health department eight weeks to process a test. Even after Mulligan slips the clerk a $20 bribe, it’ll still take four. “Rogue Island” is often hilari- ous, though built around a deadly serious plot. That’s clear on its first page, when Mulligan races to a house on fire in working-class Mount Hope, where he grew up,


THEATER REVIEW Scotland’s ‘Fringe’ stops by Kennedy Center


by Nelson Pressley Can you Fringe from the Cen-


ter? That’s the question posed by “On the Fringe: Eye on Edin- burgh,” a brief sampling of works from the sprawling annual arts festival in Scotland now playing not merely in the Kennedy Cen- ter, but occasionally around it as well. The early returns from this wee smorgasbord affirm that Fringey experiences can be had at the marble palace. Bette Bourne, one of the headliners of this three- week event, was a good tone- setter: He has already come and gone (and too bad), but his loose self-presentation in “A Life in Three Acts” at the Terrace Thea- ter was, in form and content, an inviting two hours of rebellion. The 71-year-old actor was born


Peter Bourne, but he was self- christened Bette (pronouncing it a la Miss Davis, not Miss Midler) once he wholeheartedly em- braced his gay identity. Bourne created this conversational piece as he was interviewed by writer- director Mark Ravenhill; the original performances featured the two of them chatting, but now Bourne goes it alone with notes on a music stand next to him and an era-evoking collection of mainly black-and-white photos projected behind him. The British Bourne is a classi-


cally trained actor (he includes an early photo of himself oppo- site Ian McKellen) who’s most fa-


commune in Notting Hill is a rich saga, and it was touching to watch the personable, formidable Bourne gazing at his younger self on the screen, reviving a tumultu- ous epoch. Running through this weekend is “Susurrus,” a nifty bit of site- specific audio drama that takes as long as you want it to. You pick up an iPod and headphones in the Hall of States and follow a map to locations inside and outside the building. At each spot — the JFK bust in the Great Hall, a bench out front, etc. — you listen to a chapter in a family reminiscence that gradually unearths a dis- turbing scandal. “Susurrus” is written and di-


JOHAN PERSSON


WHAT A ‘LIFE’! Bette Bourne offered riveting reflections on the fight for gay rights in 1960s-’70s London.


mous for leading the impish drag troupe Bloolips to jaunty tri- umphs in London and New York. The stage histories are recounted with snippets of flair, as the flam- boyantly arrayed Bourne, in what appear to be red polka-dotted tap shoes, gingerly ventures a verse or two of song and dance. But it’s the cultural upheaval of


gay rights in 1960s-’70s London that is particularly riveting. The giddy defiance, idealism and slow breakdown of his early-1970s gay


rected by David Leddy, and the construction of his drama is clev- er. His framework is Shake- speare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” by way of the Benjamin Britten opera, since in this made- up tale the patriarch of this frac- tured clan was a star singer. Led- dy uses Britten’s music as you walk from site to site. The charac- ters gossip about Britten and his longtime partner, tenor Peter Pears, as they recount attractions and jealousies that wracked their own clan and mirror the exces- sive passions in Shakespeare’s great play.


“I suppose you could describe


my father as puckish,” says the character known as Moth, but as the father’s


willfulness is re-


called, the narrative wisely guides you to contemplate the spat between Oberon and Titania as they wrangle over a changeling boy. “What,” murmurs one of the voices, “was the nature of Ober- on’s desire?” The voices in your head are so- norous as, one by one, they cob- ble together incidents and rela- tionships; there’s also a research- er examining lifeless sparrows to determine how they died, which ties tidily into this familial post- mortem. The piece acts like mem- ory as the story unspools in your ears while you gaze at the river and the sky, wandering in the chilly autumn air, literally and pleasantly on the fringe. “Susurrus,” which one charac-


ter explains is the word for the sound of wind through trees, con- tinues through Sunday. Four more “Eye on Edinburgh” acts, plus two selections from the Cap- ital Fringe and a handful of plat- form chats, are scheduled through Nov. 13. style@washpost.com


Pressley is a freelance writer.


On the Fringe: Eye on Edinburgh


At the Kennedy Center through Nov. 13. Call 202-467-4600 or visit www.kennedy-center.org.


and finds that 5-year-old twins had crawled under a bed to es- cape the flames. The fireman who carried one of them down the lad- der wept: “The body was black and smoking.” A serial arsonist is


DeSilva has 40 years of newspapering behind him, and his first novel is as good and true a look at the news game as you’ll find this side of “The Front Page.”


at work in Mount Hope, many more people die, and Mulligan, having no faith in the city’s in- competent police and crooked politicians, embarks on a person- al crusade to find the killer. Arson is no joke, but DeSilva


injects comedy into the darkness. A couple who recently moved to Providence from Oregon insist that their dog is a latter-day Lass- ie who followed them across the country on foot; Mulligan proves otherwise. When Mulligan knocks on a door and tells a woman, “I’m a re- porter for the paper,” she natu- rally replies, “We already take the paper.” As an example of the local brand of justice, Mulligan tells us about the star forward for Provi- dence College who “had been sentenced to twenty hours of community service for breaking his English tutor’s arm with a lug wrench.” Then there’s the local corruption. The city’s chief arson investigator “aced the sergeant’s exam by paying the going rate of five hundred dollars for the an-


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swers, then rose through the ranks the Rhode Island way, slip- ping envelopes to the mayor’s bagman.” DeSilva lets Mulligan explain his novel’s title: “Rhode Island is a bastardization of Rogue Island, a name the sturdy farmers of colonial Massachu- setts bestowed upon the swarm of heretics, smugglers, and cut- throats who first settled the shores of Narragansett Bay.” In this account, the rogues still


rule. We meet Mulligan’s take-no- prisoners city editor; his favorite bookie; some mobsters who may be involved in the arson; and his publisher’s son, fresh out of J- school, who survives Mulligan’s scorn and proves to be not a bad fellow. Although set in the pres- ent, “Rogue Island” is in truth a loving tribute to a golden age of journalism that now has all but vanished.


bookworld@washpost.com


Anderson regularly reviews thrillers and mysteries for The Post.


ART BY AMY GUIP


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