STAGE REVIEW: WE WILL ROCK YOU

Galileo Figaro (Brian Justin Crum) in We Will Rock You. Photo by Paul Kolnik.

A night at the musical

By Ed Rampell

This musical is a sheer delight for lovers of the British band Queen in particular and of classic rock in general. Like Mamma Mia!, which features Abba’s disco music, We Will Rock You creates a story to rather cleverly wrap around Queen’s songs. However, director Ben Elton’s book conjures and weaves a saga far more imaginative than Mamma Mia’s! rather trite one. We Will Rock You is imaginatively set in a dystopian future, where instead of book burning, “Globalsoft’s” totalitarian state led by Big Sister Killer Queen (the hilarious Jacqueline B. Arnold) has -- horror of horrors! -- banned rock ‘n’ roll music!

Somehow, although it’s never explained why or how, classic rock songs and lyrics filter through the mind of a teenager called Galileo Figaro (Brian Justin Crum), who teams up with another social misfit he dubs Saramouche (Ruby Lewis). They make common cause with keepers of the flame, the Bohemians -- aged outsiders who remember rock and the day the music died -- in their crusade and rebellion to revive, rehabilitate and resurrect rock ‘n’ roll. (The musical playfully panders to its audience, many of them hailing from the generation that came of age during Queen’s heyday and are roughly the same age as the Bohemians.)

No Brechtian agitprop play, We Will Rock You soft peddles its anti-censorship, antifascist pop politics, which are mostly played for laughs in this rather humorous show. There’s even a droll torture scene that makes witty use of Queen’s “Flash Gordon” number.

The two-acter has a multimedia vibe and two-level stylish set with an eight-piece orchestra sporting dual drum sets, belting out the live tunes from above. Architect Mark Fisher is the original production designer and video director, with Arlene Phillips’ frenetic choreography rousingly hoofed by a large cast accompanied by fab singing. At the Bohemians’ lair is what’s presumably a replica of the Freddie Mercury statue located near the Charlie Chaplin statue at Switzerland’s Lake Geneva. (Here’s the fun fact of the day: According to a plaque on that Swiss sculpture, four octave Freddie Mercury was actually born in Zanzibar.)

There’s just one flaw in this overwhelmingly enjoyable production: While the Globalsoft dictators suppress rock, they themselves perform rock ‘n’ roll numbers, which sort of undercuts their point. But this is a mere quibble: A splendid time was had by all as the musical transformed the Ahmanson into a joyous Radio Ga-Ga-palooza. To paraphrase that enlightened philosopher Jerry Lewis: “You’re only young once, but you can stay immature forever.”

Now, here are two hints from your humble reviewer to enhance your theatergoing experience to the fullest: See/hear this merry madcap melodious musical with a kindred spirit who enjoys Queen music and having a good time. And although this critic is loathe to disclose spoiler alerts, let’s just say that when you think the play is over, do not depart, Dear Reader. Stay put for a grand finale that’s, well, sure to rock you!

We Will Rock You runs through Aug. 24 at the Ahmanson Theatre, 135 N. Grand Ave., Los Angeles, CA 90012. For more info: Queen (213)628-2772.

AFI 2011: THIS IS NOT A FILM

Jafar Panahi in This is Not a Film.

Knight of Eye C-ydonia

By Ed Rampell

When an AFI Film Festival official introduced this remarkable documentaryat the Chinese 1 Theater he lamented that the Iranian filmmakers behind and in front of it could not be present to do so themselves, as their passports had been seized and they were being detained by authorities of the Islamic Republic. At the end of this nonfiction rumination on – as co-director Jafar Panahi puts it -- “filmmakers not making films” – some audience members shouted: “Free Iran.”

Faced with unspecified crimes against the state, Jafar Panahi, whose 1995 The White Balloon won the Camera d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival, has been forbidden from making movies in Iran or to leave the country where he could conceivably do so, for 20 years. So he collaborated with another filmmaker, Mojtaba Mirtahmasb (2008’s Lady of the Rose), to co-direct the pithily named This is Not a Film. The documentary records a day in the life of Panahi in his Tehran apartment, as he speaks on the phone with his attorney about the possibility of going to jail and from being banned from making movies.

Panahi tries to find some wiggle room from that onerous sentence, as it does not explicitly forbidden his reenacting and in particular reading the scripts he’s written of films he’d like to shoot. The defrocked director also screens clips from some of his previously made movies, as Mirtahmasb shoots him. There are a number of long takes and a kind of monitor lizard named Igi steals several scenes as he slithers about Panahi’s posh apartment. Throughout, the director -- who is presumably under some sort of house arrest -- generally retains his composure, only blowing his cool a couple of times when considering the injustice of not being able to practice his avocation for, perhaps, up to two decades. Considering the constraints he is acting under, Panahi seems to hold up well and, like his colleague behind the camera, admirable.

Towards the end an art student moonlighting as a janitor while his sister delivers her baby appears to collect and throw the garbage out. In the course of his conversation with the apartment dweller/noted director, Panahi corrects a comment the university pupil makes and insists that yes indeed, one “can make a film with [only] a cell phone” video camera. Panahi and Mirtahmasb prove that creativity and ingenuity not only trump technology and production budgets, but also political censorship. For my money, this film is far better than anything Michael Bay has ever helmed with his mega-million budgets.

The aptly titled This is Not a Film is also a testament to artists resisting repression, and to humanity refusing to accept persecution. In any case, it turns out that the clever This is Not a Film not only is, but this documentary, apparently entirely shot in a single day, has earned a rarefied spot in cinema history.

To paraphrase Winston Churchill’s commendation of the RAF: Never have so few done so much with so little. Panahi and Mirtahmasb are filmic freedom flyers. Portentously set against the backdrop of New Year’s celebrations in Iran and perhaps anti-government demonstrations in Iran, this documentary made against all odds somehow manages to end on a note of hope. Yes, “free Iran” indeed.

And while we’re at it, lest we Westerners get smug, free Julian Assange, too!