Tag Archives: Mark Clements

Catastrophe Party

Photo by Mark Frohna

by Jeff Grygny

It’s an indisputable fact that people don’t usually sing and dance in public. It’s just as true, though less obvious, that there can be times in our lives that are so intense and emotional, they take on the heightened character of art. Often these moments aren’t fun to live through (ain’t it so?).  Such times can’t be theatrically expressed within the boundaries of realism: they call for—a musical! Come From Away, the show currently playing at Milwaukee Rep, takes events that really happened to real people and renders them into a rousing, roof-raising, foot-stomping testament to the power of human connection. It’s little wonder that the Broadway production was nominated for seven Tony awards. As the opening show of the Rep’s brand new upgraded theater center and the Ellen & Joe Checota Powerhouse, Come From Away is a masterful display of theatrical craft: an auspicious inauguration for Milwaukee’s newest stage.

In 2001. when terrorists crashed passenger planes into the World Trade Center and Pentagon, the government closed all US air space, effectively stranding thousands of people who happened to be in traveling at the time. Come From Away tells the story of some seven thousand passengers whose planes were re-routed to the small town of Gander, Newfoundland, which adjoins what was once the largest airfield in the world: a mostly-abandoned former World War II site. The locals, faced with the sudden doubling of their population, scrambled over four days to feed, clothe, and house their unexpected drop-ins.

Photo by Mark Frohna

The Canadian co-writers, wife and husband team Irene Sankoff and David Hein (also creators of the somewhat less-famous 2009 show My Mother’s Lesbian Jewish Wiccan Wedding), masterfully cull a handful of characters out of the thousands with a canny eye for relatable drama and song potential: the doughty town of down-to-earth islanders (with chowder-t’ick Canuck accents); the gay couple (both named Kevin); the mother whose firefighter son was stationed near the World Trade Center; the Muslim passenger treated with hostility and suspicion; the animal shelter manager who took it on herself to care for all the stranded pets; the pilot who was the airline’s first woman captain. Their stories weave together sympathy, humor, tragedy, and inspiration like the movements of a symphony: a remarkable feat, especially since it’s fundamentally about being stuck in a place where you don’t want to be.

Director Mark Clements heaps on the theatrical pizzazz, keeping the stage in constant dynamic motion while shepherding his twelve performers into three times as many characters: passengers waiting on a grounded plane, on a bus in the middle of the night to an unknown destination, changing into donated clothes, and sleeping on the floor in various shelters. The experience of refugees—of losing your sense of self as your normal life suddenly drops away—is vivid and poignant. On opening night, with an audience of donors and dignitaries, the performers were clearly giving it their all. It might be more fun to play a villain, but this ensemble embraces their roles as heroes from the first musical bar.

Jenn Rose’s choreography eschews virtuosity to portray ordinary bodies: nothing fancy, just the energetic clapping, fist-pumping, stomping moves of tough, determined people. Music Director Dan Kasemi has assembled a band of crack musicians who play instruments associated with the Brit-Irish-French traditions of Newfoundland, including accordion, fiddle, whistle, mandolin, and frame drum. Todd Edward Ivins’ single set incorporates weird rock formations that conjure a desolate island, with hazy projections by Mike Tutaj that evoke the vast oceanic skies. Wisely, they choose not to exploit the tragic images of the burning towers that figure so centrally in the story: we are left to recall them ourselves while characters stare at news broadcasts.

Photo by Mark Frohna

As the Gander folk work around the clock to provide for the “plane people”, we see everyone making new friends, taking comfort in prayer, phone calls, corny jokes, and liquor. Inevitably tensions mount, so the townspeople hold a boozy blow-off-steam party, with live music (including incredible fiddling by Wisconsin-raised Glenn Asch), karaoke (yes, they belt “My Heart Will Go On”), and a silly “Become a Newfoundlander” ceremony. It works, and a little temporary culture has formed, with bonds that last long after the planes have taken flight.

People who have lived in extreme conditions like wars or natural disasters often report an extraordinary feeling of camaraderie like nothing ordinary life offers. We never court catastrophe, but it can bring out the best impulses of human nature along with the worst. Now here’s the thing about theater: we can find something like that feeling by sharing stories of perils and survival. After all, it’s why so many cultures perform rituals: singing and dancing in public. The live experience is what makes the magic work; computers or cellphones just aren’t the same.

Great art is not just about challenging our preconceptions or exposing unpleasant truths, it’s also—maybe even more— about reminding us of simple, basic things that are easy to forget. In dark times like ours, we most desperately need to remember that we’re all in this together. Wouldn’t it be great if we took our current crisis as an opportunity to reach out? So go ahead: get soused with someone different from you. Belt out “My Heart Will Go On” together and see what happens. Or—you could bring them to see Come From Away.

Milwaukee Rep

presents

Come From Away

Books, Music and Lyrics by Irene Sankoff and David Hein

Directed by Mark Clements

November 4 –December 14, 2025

Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission

To purchase tickets, go to www.MilwaukeeRep.com, call the Ticket Office at 414-224-9490, or visit in-person at 108 E Wells Street in downtown Milwaukee.

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Laurie Bembenek, Superstar

photo by Michael Brosilow

by Jeff Grygny

The story is irresistible, really: Lawrencia Bembenek, Milwaukee cop, playboy bunny, convicted murderess, escaped felon—and maybe framed? Villain or victim? It has everything: crime, sex, betrayal, corruption . . . it was a big fat slice of Wisconsin sleaze, and it was irresistible to the local press back in the early 1980s too. It just begs for a big trashy musical, doesn’t it? And who better to write the score than Gordon Gano of Milwaukee’s cult band Violent Femmes, whose small-town dysphoric sound won their own fame in the 80s. So, after a decade-long gestation, a show is born: Run Bambi Run, a collaboration by Gano, Milwaukee Rep’s Artistic Director Mark Clements, and acclaimed playwright Eric Simonson of Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre. The musical is currently playing in it’s world premiere at the Rep.

And what a show it is: a raucous, rowdy panorama of Milwaukee’s seedy side, detailed and razor-satirical as any painting by Breughel or Hogarth, or a comic by R. Crumb. The Milwaukee Chamber of Commerce is not likely to love it; our city looks like a mean, corrupt, and tawdry place from its gutter perspective, which summons a cast of caricatures from the tabloids, sprung to life for our prurient pleasure. Headlines blaze from big screens; timelines flash as the story propels us along Bembeneck’s lurid career with the queasy inevitability of a Greek tragedy: the flawed hero hurtling toward her predestined doom.

But for all the show’s initial teasing of “is she guilty or is she not?,” the book, based on contemporary accounts and later research, unambiguously takes Bembeneck’s side. It tracks us through her entire hapless career: every poor choice in relationships, advice not taken, and imprudent decision, to make a pretty convincing case that, even if she was not set up by her scumbag husband, her faithless best friend, her crooked attorney, and the collective animus of the Milwaukee Police Department—who are definitely not Milwaukee’s finest—she was undoubtedly outplayed in a game that she was underpowered for from the start.

Under Clements’ direction, the show assaults us with bright lights, loud music, and the feverish energy of 12 pumped-up actor/singer/dancer/musicians who play their own instruments excellently while in character—a signature feature of Clements’ musicals—under the brilliant music direction of Dan Kazemi. The music is amped so high that earplugs are available in the lobby (I recommend them for Act 2 especially).

photo by Michael Brosilow

Gano’s score, which sometimes veers into the sung dialog of rock opera, recalls the Femmes’ jangly post-punk intensity: the opening number, set on New Year’s Eve in Tracks tavern, is truthfully entitled “The Seventies Sucked.” Gano dips into other styles: a comic “bad roommate” polka, a sentimental ballad to Kosciusko Park, a leering commercial for Lake Geneva, and a roaring Jerry Lee Lewis showstopper rocked out by Douglas Goodheart as the bouffant-headed attorney Don Eisenberg. Lyrically, Gano follows less Sondheim or Lloyd Webber than Iggy Pop, whose dictum was to stick to words of one syllable. The lyrics’ blunt simplicity complements the monumental stupidity of the show’s milieu, though they often tell us no more than we already know rather than offering any counterpointing perspective.

Does Run Bambi Run critique the grotesque Bembenek circus, or does it partake of it? Two moments cut through the clown show to the emotional truth; curiously, they both feature actress Sarah Gliko, who plays two minor but important characters. One is in the courtroom, when the murdered woman’s son, the only eyewitness to the crime, testifies: Gliko, as his mother, slowly crosses the stage like a Shakespearean ghost, singing “Remember me.” In the other, she plays a reporter interviewing the indefatigable Erika Olson’s 52-year old Bembenek: now free, but weary, sick, and maimed from a bizarre escape attempt. “On a scale from one to ten,” the reporter asks, a bit heartlessly, “how would you rate your life?” Bembenek replies stoically, “I’d give it a two.” A whole life of potential, wasted in bureaucracy and broken promises, divided, subtracted, and summed up into one dreary number. (Note to the producers: during the intermission I met a former Wisconsin attorney who had socialized with Bembenek; he said that she never used the contraction “ain’t.” Despite growing up on the South Side; fancy that.)

But the show can’t leave the audience on such a bummer ending. Rather like another true crime musical it much resembles, Jesus Christ Superstar, it resurrects the 23 year old Laurie for a final rousing number, celebrating her as a hero who never gave up the fight for truth and justice.

photo by Michael Brosilow

I think Run Bambi Run has a great show in it. Given an artful reckoning with its inner contradictions, and a bit of streamlining of its excess bulk, it could go far. Is it really good to have fun with such a fundamentally sad story? Does the show’s carnivalesque approach celebrate its protagonist as a feminist martyr, or does it feed off the gawker mentality that dogged her entire life? This is a more interesting question than whether she “did it” or not. In the end, the viewer must be the judge.

The Milwaukee Rep  presents

Run Bambi Run

A New Rock Musical

Book by Eric Simonson
Music and Lyrics by Gordon Gano
Directed by Mark Clements

playing through October 22

www.MilwaukeeRep.com