Very Still and Hard To See at the Lex.

I think almost all hotels are kind of creepy. All those people who slept in your room -- who knows who they were or what they did? And as for what gummy, gunky horrors that might be crawling around on that floral bed coverlet, well, anyone would be terrified about what could be there. But how much more frightening still the hotel where the original architect made some kind of a deal with a delivish monster to turn the place into a sort of luxury playground for the demon’s delight? The set of Steve Yockey’s engrossing set of horror vignettes consists mainly of a bare stage, with some chalk drawn circles on the floor. And, yet, from this director Michael Matthews crafts the atmosphere of a towering hotel, crumbling with decay and evil, full of secrets and ghosts. The architect in question, pompous Buck (Andrew Crabtree) tumbles into a hole that collapse in his construction site, and winds up in a Hellish underworld, where he’s confronted by a dialbolical demon spirit (CD Spencer). The spirit offers him his life in exchange for a small change to the structure of the hotel Buck’s constructing – a change that will allow the demon to use the building as “her” own toy. In exchange, the demon promises the architect a gift of his darkest, deepest desire – and you know that’s not going to be good. The rest of the play’s vignettes vaguely follow the history of this decidedly cursed hotel. A trio of young college kids are possessed by ghosts that compel them to murder and suicide. A beautiful, immortal woman suffers from a curse that causes her to devour anyone with whom she falls in love. And a half century later, the original architect, now a crazy old man, comes to a dreadful end at the hands of the psychotic granddaughter whom he molested for years. However, the most chilling anecdote might just be a monologue told by fussy housewife (Adeye Sahran), who, staying in the hotel during a raging storm, sees a monstrous sight that causes her to perform a terrifyingly cruel act. There’s nothing like a cracklingly paced, smoothly executed ghost story to delight and entertain – and Matthews’ spooky, suspenseful, and atmospheric presentation of Yockey’s surprisingly nuanced and creepy tales is wonderfully chilling and effective. It’s like we’re the cast and crew’s guests around the campire, as they conspire to scare the bejeesus out of us with harrowing incidents, both broad and subtle. Yockey’s writing possesses influences from Japanese folklore, but also from the works of Clive Barker and Stephen King. The plays require great versatility from the cast, with many of the performers depicting normal people trying to keep their cool and their sanity as they come face to face with the horrifically inexplicable. Particularly fine turns are offered by Coleman Drew’s cadaverous hotel elevator operator, by CD Spencer’s grinning she-demon, and by Sahran

Patty: Revival at Highways Performance Space.

Art isn’t supposed to be easy, but occasionally a show is so inscrutable that you’re left thinking that you really need to see it twice or more to get what the creators are trying to get at. That is certainly part of the challenge in creator/director Patrick Kennelly’s gorgeous, but oblique rock drama at Highways, which is full of strange and eccentric stagecraft, dazzling showcase musical numbers, and sharp video sequences. And, yet, the show somehow is indefinably less than it seems.

Of course, with the most charitable of interpretations, mere understanding might be beside the point in this sort of show. One is ultimately just supposed to sit back – or in the case of Kennelly’s site specific-style staging, follow the action on foot around and around the building – as the dazzling music and startling images waft around one.

In terms of plot, “Patty” can perhaps best be explained as a study of the corrosive and empty nature of fame, as depicted by a figure (played by three actresses) who might be either Patty Duke, the sugary actress from the 50s and 60s, or Patty Hearst, the infamous heiress who was kidnapped by the SLA and (afflicted with Stockholm Syndrome) joined her captors in a bank robbery. The underlying theme, and perhaps it’s one that doesn’t bear too much scrutiny, is that Patty Duke’s abuse and brainwashing on the part of her domineering mother who wanted to create a “star” for a child, is somehow similar to Hearst’s being tortured to the point of goofiness by the Symbionese Liberation Front. One may also extend the premise to the idea that women generally are forced to adhere to stock roles that are forced on them by malevolent outsiders. Of course, these are only guesses, as the Pattys are portrayed by three actors simultaneously (rather in the same way that Joe Orton’s screenplay for the Beatles portrayed the group collectively as one figure).

Still, the stagecraft here is dazzling – frankly, the crew of computer and sound engineers stationed right in the center pit of the stage are sometimes as interesting to watch as the performers. The pacing of Kennelly’s staging is frenetic, but every gesture is totally controlled with Kabuke-like intricacy. The all female cast possess gorgeous voices – although this is performance art more than a drama, it’s hard not to leave humming the tune to Duke’s paeon to ‘dolls’, ”Colors,” or to be amused by a hilarious video-and-rap combo that’s executed as a Star Search-esque production number.

Marina Malgahaes’ choreography possesses a crisp gorgeousness that’s part lavish MTV video and part dreamlike myth. The score, credited to several composers but mainly Jonathan Snipes, is pure rave party – but the shrewd listener occasionally may detect homages and nods to rock anthems of the 80s and 90s. Kennelly's skills sometimes seem to be more as a videographer and DJ than as a nuanced delver into emotional truth, but there's no questioning his eye for spectacle and for energy.

Indeed, some of the performances resemble those of the back up girls from the old Robert Plant “Addicted to Love” video – and, in one scene, Kennelly tosses in a drum major number that would make one think of Madonna at the Super Bowl half time show, were the words not those of the Goddess Shiva (and Oppenheimer at the atomic blast). Although some of Kennelly’s theatrical tropes are familiar – reminding us of an MFA thesis or a Laurie Anderson performance of the 1980s – it’s hard not to be enthusiastic about the energy and precision of this unusual, imaginative experience.

SLIS 5630: UCLA Science Library -- User Services.

Yesterday, although I wrote about the user-oriented double tiered reference service in my local library, I concluded feeling somewhat wary that I had not touched upon any elements involving STEM or scientific information. The truth is, Santa Monica Public Library is a public lending library and their attempts to service the scientific or technological community are limited to what you might find in any generic library in the Dewey 500s section.

I wanted to actually explore some of the user services available specifically in a STEM library, and to do this, I decided to log onto the nearest library that specifically services students engaged in the scientific fields. The library that came immediately to mind, of course, was the one servicing UCLA’s STEM student and faculty community. This library’s web presence is clearly less than five years old, making it a good candidate for analysis.

The UCLA Science and Engineering library may be found at http://guides.library.ucla.edu/content.php?pid=57686. The home page offers a number of user-friendly informational details, such as a link to an FAQ page containing links to a number of user-centered basic topics, including how to find the library, procedures for renewing books online, and the usual library advisory offerings about copyright, plagiarism, and patents.

However, of more germane interest to the provenance of this class in reference services for science and technology, are the subject specific sections. Scrolling downwards, I found a list of “subjects supported,” which described the long list of scientific areas available for students. I clicked on “chemistry and biochemistry”, which took me to a page specifically devoted to the fields. On the left side of the page may be found a column entitled “research guides,” and these appeared to be keyed to individual classes – there’s one for the specific introduction to chemistry course, for example. Clicking the links to the individual classes takes one to pages listing individual science class reading lists, along with a modified powerpoint display on how to find scientific information, created by the class’s embedded librarian. Links along the top of the page send users to lists of the scientific scholarly professional organizations. Another link takes readers to a launch platform that allows the user to select e-journals, which, presumably, will be full text.

To put the library within the context of this class’s assignment, to describe how the layout works for the user base, I would note that the site appears to be designed very carefully for ease of access. In many respects, I think this site is much more intuitive and cunningly designed than, say, UNT’s science sites, which require you to know how to manipulate the library’s home page before finding the science information.

It is clear from the synthesis of library content to class work that the site has been designed with a great deal of cooperation with the professors teaching the material. And I really liked the way that each page has a window allowing the user to contact embedded librarian “Courtney”.

That said, I am not entirely sure how useful the site would be for faculty – not undergraduates, but the Professors who might use the library for their own research. It seems likely that when the needs are more elevated and higher in requirement, the professors probably utilize other resources. Nevertheless, with its attention to detail, I would consider this a great site to study if one wanted to learn how to create an excellent science library site.

SLIS 5630: User Services 1: Santa Monica Public Library

The Main Branch of the Santa Monica Public Library entirely rebuilt its facilities approximately five years ago. I am told that some time in the next year or so, the head librarians will be performing an “environmental scan” of the institution to ensure that it is meeting the needs of its stakeholders. Because Santa Monica PL is publicly funded, all changes and renovations to the place are inevitably placed within the thematic context of what the alterations bring to the users. Users are the alpha and omega of this public library system.

In this blog posting, I would like to discuss the changes to the structure of the reference system, and the impact they appear to have had on the user base. In the previous library, there was one system for reference questions, consisting of a gigantic wall-length desk at which several prune-faced librarians would sit, answering all questions. It was not the happiest atmosphere. I used to visit the library myself when I was a boy and then again before the place closed, and the only thing that changed for decades was the fact that the librarians used to wear pants suits and sport Farrah hair dos. I was pleased to see the end of the pant suits, but I would not mind if Farrah hair made a comeback.

Strangely enough, in terms of service provided, the public never seemed to have many questions for the librarians of yore at the Santa Monica Public Library – and Santa Monica had a rather poor reputation for reference services. People were too afraid to approach the intimidating-seeming desks, which resembled nothing so much as a judge’s bench – and the position at the desks appeared to create a sort of “attitude-y state which, while it might not have been actual, was perceived as real by the patrons.

The renovation of the Santa Monica Public Library split the library into two floors – fiction on the main floor and non fiction on the floor above. But more importantly, reference services have been split into two sections. The first floor has a sort of receptionist desk right inside the main doors. This table has room for two staff members – a minimum of one of them will always be a public services librarian, but the other might be a librarian or might be a paraprofessional imported from the circulation check out desk. This desk is where patrons seeking easy ready reference questions can quickly find their answers.

Meanwhile, on the second floor, there’s a line of three rather pretty little desks that more resemble the marble counters found at a Starbucks. This is where the three actual bona fide reference librarians sit. Behind them are the stacks and stacks of reference books, containing the government information and scientific indexes available for reference questions.

The new atmosphere is one of approachability – and, in truth, as a result of this retrofitting, the librarians appear to handle more questions than ever before. I am not entirely certain how many of the questions are academic in nature – the residents of Santa Monica appear mostly to want to learn how to access government information or want to discover trivia for purposes of entertainment – but providing scientific information is certainly part of the reference librarians’ purview.

Santa Monica does operate with some defined “subject specialist” librarians. In particular, there are a pair of librarians who specialize in technical information – stuff involving computers and technology. They operate a “petting zoo” to instruct patrons on the use of the newest gizmos and geegaws, from Kindles to Ipads. They are also the figures who are the ultimate overseers of the 70 public internet stations, deciding the policies relating to time limits, filtering (there’s none), and programs installed onto the computers.

Santa Monica’s collection development policy specifies that works retained by the library should appeal to a general audience, with an overall emphasis on self help. Thus, in terms of STEM materials, the print works consist of basic textbooks and how to manuals, along with some subject specific items. There are some text books – along with the sort of science books by popular culture mavens like Carl Sagan and Stephen Hawkings, as well as the great philosophers and scholars. However, the general goal is not to provide material for academic or advanced scholars – it is believed that there are other options in LA for that sort of thing.

SLIS 5630: Reference for Science and Technology.

Well, all right. For the many who know me, I am not just a theater critic – now I am a librarian, too! Or, it seems that’s what I shall be after I graduate with an MLIS in about a month’s time.

Now, this term I am taking a class in reference for the fields of science and technology. One of our assignments this term is to create a Science Blog, or at least to create a blog that is going to be used to post a message or two on the topics near and dear to the class. I actually think that if I WERE a science librarian, I would probably create a science blog and fill it with useful information on resources for my target user group. This would, as I have learned, be as much about teaching the users about how to find the information they want, as it would be about marketing the library.

As it happens, I have had a blog here for quite some time! Actually, I have had several blogs – but this is the cleanest and most presentable, and so it earns the privilege of being “my class project.”

Back in my Advanced Management Class (can you imagine, I took a class with that title!), we discussed Advocacy and how making people remember the library is available and useful is one of the librarian’s prime duties. After all, what is to be done when budget cutting time arrives and all the library is appears to be a big pile of books in a room?

I expect that if I had the good luck to be hired as a science librarian, I would frequently update with posts about “how to use Web of Science!” to locate important information. Or maybe I would try to post frequent little tricks on general web searching – “10 Tricks You Can Do With Google” sort of things. My feeling is that a library blog should probably be half “corporate voice” and half “in flight magazine.” Lure em in with sugar and prove the library’s use.

As it happens, though, for the assignment for this class on Reference for Science and Technology, I have been given very specific instructions. Thus, over the next couple of days, you can expect to see some posts here that will be geared towards this class. So do join me for some fun and entertainment here on my glamorous big blog!

The Future of Tech Services: A Journey In Time and Space (My "Term Paper" for SLIS 5390)

Arise, Gentle Reader, and stride past the swinging wooden doors of my time machine. Perhaps the device will seem somewhat familiar to you. My time machine resembles an old fashioned British police telephone call box – and it’s bigger on the inside than on the outside. But it has the magical ability to travel to different times and places. Who would not desire a machine such as this one? Where shall we go? Shall we travel to the dawn of time to see the dreaded Tyrannosaurus Rex devour a Brontosaurus? Or perhaps we would enjoy sneaking out to the Lyceum of Ancient Greece to hear the great Aristotle orate philosophy with his student Theophrastus. Or maybe we could travel into the far future to see how man travels to the far distant galaxies.

Alas, I am sorry to say that none of this is to be, for the time machine that I possess has the ability only to travel between the Technical Services departments of libraries. Not to worry, though, for that can prove just as entertaining and enlightening as, say, travelling to meet Shakespeare to find out how he wrote all those darn plays.
So our first stop is the Technical Services department of a library in times past. Here you will find Librarian Broomhilda, her beady eyes peering through bottle-thick glasses, laboriously filling out a selection form to get the library’s copy of the latest Stephen King novel. There you will find Librarian Pomadora, her hair piled into a towering, slate gray hair bun, searching the Library of Congress subject headings file for just the right descriptors for the 650 field of her MARC record. And there is Librarian Aloysius, his bow tie tight around his neck, as he slaps the Dewey Decimal numbered label on the back of the book, while swabbing stains off a sticky copy of “If You Feed A Mouse a Muffin.”

Now let us back into our time machine and travel to the Technical Services Department of the far future. Is this not amazing? For in this magical time, we see all patrons have electronic discs implanted in their craniums – and, amazingly enough, packets of information, which we call b-books or “brain books” are transmitted directly from the author’s computer desk into the reader’s cerebrum. Librarians of this eon are eugenically bred: Their lower bodies are that of fish so they can swim through the ocean of information, while their arms are twenty feet long (the better to grab documents off of a top shelf). For user comfort and ease of recognition, these futuro-librarians retain their human heads, though they no longer keep their hair in buns (except for a brief period of a few decades in the 2700s).

All right, I daresay this isn’t where the future of Technical Services is headed. But let’s face it: This is no longer the time to worry about the future of Tech Services. For better or for worse, the Future of Tech Services has already arrived – and, rather than bun-haired librarians with the bodies of fish, it consists of the thorough reorganization of a department into a sleeker, efficient, and cost effective movement that is better integrated with the more public departments, as well as the patrons.

Where is the future of Tech Services? Well, there are several aspects of it that are worth addressing. The Tech Services departments of the Fin De Millennium have seen some astonishing changes already, mostly having to do with innovations in content and in carrier method. No longer is the world of information restricted to mere books or magazines. Nowadays, libraries need to stock DVDs, e-books, downloadable language classes, CDs, and MP3s. All of these items need to be processed – and titles can appear in all the various forms, requiring ways of differentiating the catalog and acquisition records. At the same time, patrons expect their items with all the speed and accuracy that those quick powersearches on Google have inured them to expect. There’s nothing wrong with this: Why should someone go into a library and expect slower and less fulfilling service for their information needs than they can get at home?

The problem is articulated in Bradford Lee Eden’s cogent article in Information Technology and Libraries. He describes how today’s patrons desire ease of access, often preferring speed over accuracy. “Users are not accessing the OPAC anymore; more than 80 percent of information seekers begin their search on a web-based search engine” (Eden, 2010)
Eden’s article suggests a draconian revisiting of what Tech Services means, with awareness that the excuse “but this is the way we’ve always done it” is not adequate to justify the department’s existence. He notes, “Libraries are investing huge resources in staffing – fiddling with MARC records at a time when they are struggling to survive. “
Eden warns that the future is in the full on digitization of resources – and when that comes about, the identity of the individual Tech Services departments, as well as of libraries in general, will undergo a vast sea change. “Why do libraries continue to support the infrastructure of buying and offering the same books, CDs, DVDs, journals, etc at every library, when the new information environment offers libraries the opportunities to showcase and present their unique information resources and one-of-a-kind collections to the world?” Eden queries.

This suggests even to a casual reader that a main challenge confronting Tech Services departments is one of proving relevance. This is the traditional cri de Coeur one finds echoing through almost all arguments about libraries, but which is particularly pungent when used to discuss Tech Services, whose employees often serve invisibly behind the scenes and whose work is frequently taken for granted even by the movie stars of the library world, the Public Service Librarians. If the materials appear, perfectly formatted, on the shelves like magic, it is easy to imagine that the there is little effort required in their creation.

At the ALCTS Creative Ideas in Technical Services Discussion Group Meeting at the ALA Annual Conference, described in a 2009 paper by Linda Haack Lomker, several Tech Service librarians suggested that it would be useful for backroom staff to occasionally trade places with their Public Services counterparts. “Technical Services staff members are more visible when they serve on public service desks. It can be a good idea to get out there and work with public service colleagues. Doing so can facilitate communication… People can appreciate the work when they see it,” Lomker summarizes.

So as to change the fusty, back office image of Tech Services, Eden intriguingly adds, “I would even suggest changing the name from ‘tech services’ to something like ‘collections and date management services’ or ‘reference data services’.”

But the question truly is “what does the future of Tech Services look like in the 21st Century?” We can break it down into several significant changes that we are likely to see, whether we like it or not, as evidenced by paradigm shifts in the library industry as a whole.

DIGITIZATION.

Of course the facetious conversation about data being transmitted directly from information source into the patron’s brains was intended as a joke. However, the truth is that this decade has seen a substantial change from materials being put on shelves, processed, and stored, to their being available instantly through one click of the mouse. The last three years have seen the entire concept of digital librarianship expand at what is fair to call an exponential scale. Rather than retreating to the shelves to retrieve a bound copy of “Technical Services Quarterly,” the eager library student may merely stay at home, find the catalog and then click on through to the full text article he or she wants to read.

Notes Eden, “My library is looking at making tech services more holistic and aligning them with the digital.”

This implies, of course, a significant diminution on the reliance of physical copies – even as it suggests that Tech Services staff will be needed to become more computer savvy in order to process and interact with the new material. As patrons come to expect ease of access in digital materials, we can expect to see more focus in Technical Services on the processes having to do with this aspect of the collection. The changes are probably most likely to affect the Acquisitions staff, who, in addition to being knowledgeable about selections and ordering must become familiar with licensing, full text, and various processing concerns. The general thread is that it might be, in the long run, best to totally get rid of many of the physical aspects of Tech Services entirely and use the resources elsewhere. “A lot of tech services staff are dedicated to serials check in and bindery. Are these strategic things we should be doing in this transformative environment?” opines Eden, for example.

OUTSOURCING.

The notion of dispatching a library’s cataloging to an outside vendor – or using outside cataloging for one’s records is already normative, but the future appears to hold with even more services being sent out of the library.

It seems exceedingly likely that the future of many Tech Services departments actually will take place outside of the Tech Service department – indeed, outside the library entirely. Acquisition, for instance, can be handled out of house via approval order, and, indeed is frequently already done through companies like Baker and Taylor. It seems that the future will include most other services being handled out of house. Notes one speaker at the ALCTS ALA meeting, “The big advantage is timeliness. The major disadvantage is not getting what is expected, for example, binding that may not meet LC standards.”

The use of outsourcing frees up staff who can be used for other purposes – “Staff can be used for other work such as cataloging backlogs or projects or to cover work in other areas” (Lonker, 2010).

In Norm Mederis’s separate interview with Eden in 2010, the Tech Services prognosticator adds, “We shouldn’t be spending 80 percent of our time on materials we can outsource. We’ll never go back to the staffing levels we had before, even when the economy turns around. The concept of investing in library personnel will never happen again.”

Eden particularizes the plan, explaining that all areas of Tech Services are capable of being outsourced. Why not hire vendors to select, process, and catalog the books and save the staffing costs from the library’s budget? “First step is to outsource English language print materials. There’s no reason why any tech services department needs to be touching these materials. Outsourcing to vendors can do this more cheaply than paying catalogers to futz around with bibliographic records that are already OK” (Eden, 2010)

MORE REALISTIC STANDARDS.

Another, somewhat less pleasing-sounding trend is the notion of imposing looser standards on the process of creating records. The idea is repeated often in the literature that perhaps it is not necessary to have absolutely perfect records for each item in the library collection. Notes Eden, via Mederis, “Records do not need to be full. ‘Good enough’ is fine. Users couldn’t care less about this added stuff.”

Accepting a “good enough” records standard would allow information centers to quickly make their way through their backlogs. In addition, because most records creation and management would come from outsourced points of origin, each library could become its own specialist in its own local material. “(We should aim for) system-wide shelf readiness, the elimination of non-Romance Language backlog through a ‘centers of excellence’ approach, where libraries with certain language expertise would centralize the specialized cataloging.”

TO THE CLOUD.

Elsewhere, the future is likely to involve the total export of any Tech Services database operations. The literature is replete with discussions of the imminent arrival of cloud-based Integrated Library Systems (ILS) that will be capable of performing many of the acquisitions, processing, and circulation operations formerly based physically in a Tech Services department. If the Tech Services director can subscribe to OCLC’s new ILS system, the library’s physical department can be streamlined and staff can be reassigned, re-trained, or encouraged to find different avocations. The process is described in a 2010 Library Journal article.
“Web-scale Management Service (WMS) comprises three different modules focusing on different ILS aspects… Three main WMS modules have been developed: license and subscription management, circulation development, and acquisition and workflow” (Rapp, Library Journal, 2010). The fact that the information is based remotely, rather than on the library’s computers, will allow the department to save on costly computer equipment.
“The traditional model for an ILS is that the library pays a large up-front licensing fee for software and then a maintenance fee every year. WMS would instead use a subscription model, akin to other OCLC services. There would also be an implementation fee,” claims the article. Some librarians are fearful of losing control over their information, but the fiscal rewards might be worth the trouble, notes Eden in his article. “The only things missing are some type of inventory and acquisitions module that can be formatted locally and a circulation module,” he writes.

REORGANIZATION.

Ultimately, these new developments will allow for the entire Tech Services department to be reorganized. At my library, the Santa Monica Public Library, the lines of authority have recently been redrawn to promote a more efficient management style. Certain other divisions have been re-defined as being appropriate to “Tech Services,” which at SMPL is known as “Information Management Division.” The Principal Librarian in charge of the entire department oversees not only cataloging, acquisitions, and processing, but is also in charge of circulation.

CONCLUSION.

As I started this paper, I first thought that the future of Tech Services was likely to be rather exciting and optimistic. Sadly, following the admittedly basic reading of the available literature, the future is one about which we must be more ambivalent. Yes, the functions of tech services are going to exist – books will always need to be bound, tagged, cataloged, and ordered. But the fact that so many of them are being outsourced to vendors leaves the impression that these are no longer going to be jobs that librarians will do in libraries. These will be jobs done in the office of vendors, who may or may not want librarians in the jobs (it depends if they can get cheaper workers who don’t have library degrees, after all). At the library itself, there may be one or two Tech Services librarians to handle licensing, local cataloging, and easy preservation. And perhaps the folks hired to do those jobs at vendors offices may have MLSs. But will they be librarians? I don’t know. It might just be that the future of tech services in the 21st Century will involve no librarians at all.

The Cripple of Inishmaan.

If you think Los Angeles is an unkind city, you should try Inishmaan, the seemingly quaint and picturesque Irish village setting of Martin McDonagh's compelling drama. There, the villagers' otherwise adorable eccentricities have abraded on each other to the point of sparking near-psychotic frustration. By rights, the play should be a sentimental tale, but McDonagh's ferocious writing artfully skewers expectations of stereotypes, instead crafting a character-driven toxic dance of hope and despair. In this tiny island town, circa 1934, young orphan Crippled Billy (Tadhg Murphy) has been raised by two spinster "aunties" (Dearbhla Molloy and Ingrid Craigie), following his parents' tragic death at sea years ago. Within his claustrophobic and incredibly impoverished community, Crippled Billy's dreams have not gone much further than the hope of a kiss from bad-tempered (and possibly psychotic) town floozy Slippy Helen (Clare Dunne), the Egg Man's assistant. However, when Hollywood moviemakers arrive on a nearby island to make a film about the "real" Ireland, Crippled Billy pulls out the stops to become a star -- though the results of his scheme take an unexpectedly tragic turn. McDonagh's gorgeously lyrical dialogue is full of one-liners, quirky wit and biting irony, while also capturing the understated sorrow of people who believe life is nothing but suffering punctuated by loss. Like the writing, director Garry Hynes' taut, often explosive yet intimate staging boasts both impeccable comic timing and heartrending pathos -- often within a few seconds of each other. Galway's Druid Theatre Company cast is extraordinary, crafting an ensemble of small-village archetypes who appear lovable at first but whose seething undercurrents of spite and malice become all too evident. Murphy offers a sweet and idealistic turn as Crippled Billy, but the supporting figures are startlingly multidimensional as well, from Craigie's tough Aunt Kate to Dunne's abjectly terrifying Helen, and including Dermot Crowley in a hilarious, towering turn as the town's reprehensible gossip. A Druid Theatre Company and Center Theatre Group presentation. Kirk Douglas Theatre, 9820 Washington Blvd., Culver City; Tues.-Fri., 8 p.m., Sat., 2 & 8 p.m., Sun., 1 & 6:30 p.m., thru May 1. (213) 628-2772, centertheatregroup.org. (Paul Birchall)

THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT at the Skylight Theatre.

Stories about dystopian societies often risk seeming contrived, but playwright Tania Wisbar's beautifully detailed and elegiac tale depicts a world that might believably exist, say, 100 years after a Nazi takeover. In the future, poverty and disease have been eliminated, but the world is instead organized on entirely practical lines, with your right to survive being decided by the number of "points" you earn every year. On the 75th birthday of family matriarch Teresa (Salome Jens), her devoted daughter Marsha (Elyssa Davalos) thinks she has collected enough points from her two sisters and family to allow Teresa to live another year. More than just being the emotional center of her clan, Teresa is one of the last living rebels who recalls life before the odious new order came to pass. Marsha's hopes are threatened when unexpected complications amp up the charge for Teresa's right to life. In director Jonathan Sanger's beautifully melancholy staging, what could be a mechanical exercise in high-concept plotting becomes a wistful tale of how easy it would be to purge memory of the past from the world. Sanger's smoothly executed production boasts many rich details: Set designer Kis Knekt's calculatedly sterile living room is replete with decorative video screens that show 1984-esque messages from the genially sinister bureaucrat (Jeffrey Doornbos) who oversees the family's doings. Knekt's set, in conjunction with composer Karen Martin's eerie incidental music, crafts a world that's just plain crazy. The ensemble work is just as assured. Apart from Jens' powerful turn as the ferociously nonconforming grandmother, Davalos' complex performance as Marsha is exceptional: Her character is seemingly an upbeat chirper, but her good mood is so clearly artificial, it seems as though she's always about to weep. Also engaging in supporting roles are Katrina Lenk, as Marsha's venomously selfish younger sister, and Demetrius Grosse, as a guilt-haunted security agent. Katselas Theatre Company at the Skylight Theatre, 1816 ½ N. Vermont Ave., Los Feliz; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., 7 p.m., thru April 17. (323) 960-7733. (Paul Birchall)

BROKEN GLASS at the Pico Playhouse.

Arthur Miller's searing 1995 drama ostensibly deals with the theme of Jewish assimilation and the price of ignoring evil in the rest of the world. In the end, though, the issue is a metaphor for the moral rot fragmenting a loveless marriage. In 1938, American Jewish housewife Sylvia (Susan Angelo) reads in the papers of the atrocities taking place in Germany and develops what appears to be a hysterical, psychosomatic paralysis. Sylvia's husband, uptight mortgage broker Phillip (Michael Bofshever), is justifiably alarmed, but as he seeks help from kindly Dr. Hyman (Stephen Burleigh), the real problems underlying his wife's condition begin to emerge. For his part, Phillip is contemptuous of his own Jewish heritage and is so self-hating he pretends to be Finnish, rather than Polish, even as he's forced to suck up the subtle anti-Semitism at his workplace. In director Elina de Santos' beautifully empathetic staging, the pacing is unhurried, but the emotions rise in tension and pitch until, finally, they reach Shakespearean heights of tragedy. There's so much simmering below the surface here -- especially the notion of how, under certain circumstances, self-loathing and guilt can actually be physically manifested. The acting work crackles with subtext and organic emotion. At first the prickly, unforgiving Phillip seems monstrously dismissive -- but in Bofshever's increasingly subtle, pragmatic turn, we gradually start to realize the insecurities underlying his self-loathing. The show's engrossing moral center, however, is Angelo's wonderfully vulnerable performance as Sylvia, who is played as part giggling ingénue and part world-weary social activist trapped in a life that, for the most part, she cannot control. Pico Playhouse, 10580 Pico Blvd., W.L.A.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., 2 p.m., thru April 17. (323) 821-2449. (Paul Birchall)

The Ovations!

I just had the interesting experience of watching the live Webcast of the 2011 Ovations Awards, which are the Big Boy of LA’s theater awards season. And, do you know, it was an absolute pleasure to be able to sit down in front of my computer with a nice iced tea, holding my beautiful torty cat Catullus, and watch the ceremony without having to ransack all the city’s thrift shops for just the perfect purple smoking jacket, take 10 buses to Thousand Oaks, and then attempt to hobnob with dozens of theater people who, if you know them, you’ve given them bad reviews and they’d sooner see you with your head in a cement brick. No, really much much, nicer to hang at home, in my bathrobe, and watch the live feed, quipping suitably snarky bon mots into the live feed chat room.

I won’t lie: The technology wasn’t absolutely where it wanted to be yet. The live feed fizzled at several points, the show lost sound now and again, and the camera occasionally shook as though someone was kicking it. And, of course, the show was frequently interrupted by a commercial for that new sitcom starring Betty White, which was particularly irritating as it happened during both of Sally Struthers’ acceptance speeches. However, the promise of the technology is simply marvelous to contemplate – and whatever minor mistakes marginally undercut the broadcast were more than compensated for by the fact that we were still basically able to watch the feed from wherever we were. LA Theater Folks were logging in from all over the globe – in the chat room, folks were showing up from New York, Washington DC, Madrid. It was nothing short of heartwarming.

That said, one can’t say too much about the content of the show. I frankly had never actually seen or been to the Ovations before. It’s weird, but I had always heard that they were the “ne plus ultra” of the awards season. And, yet, the entire spectacle was strangely disappointing. I was expecting really lavish musical numbers and appearances by all the stars who the folks who run the LAWWies and the LADCC awards would kill to get. But instead the show consisted merely of a sort of dull curtain, lit by a gobo containing the images of what appeared to be a set of glowing donuts. And then it was just a rat-a-tat of presenters, award winners, and mostly standard speeches. I question the point of giving out just a cookie cutter list of awards, and listing them in categories of “little,””big,” and “huge.” It just seemed, well, unfocused is the word that occurs to me. It was well intentioned, but I was still quite stunned to discover that the creaky, dysfunctional ceremonies in which I myself have participated actually are more theatrical. However, I do hope that all these awards show continue to do these webcasts. It would be quite an event, for instance, to watch the LA Weekly Awards on the web!

Diva on the Verge at the Odyssey Theatre.

In her compelling one-woman show, soprano Julia Migenes, who has sung more leading roles at more opera houses than you've had hot dinners, offers a solo show that is a true-life analog of Terrence McNally's play Master Class. However, Migenes is the real thing -- a bona fide, card-carrying prima donna of the larger-than-life school -- and the story of her life in art is both lighthearted and unpretentious, simultaneously celebrating opera and sending it up. For all her operatic pedigree, which includes the renowned 1984 film version of Carmen with Placido Domingo, Migenes cleverly positions herself here as an "anti-opera" opera star, with a narrative patter (credited to her and Bruce Vilanch) that spoofs various operatic traditions, while still dazzling us with renditions of the arias themselves. Thus, Migenes dons a goofy white shroud to comically satirize the over-the-top libretto of the madness scene from Lucia di Lammermoor at the same time her gorgeous coloratura rendering of the song is perfect. She jokes about the ridiculous death scenes from La Traviata and Tristan and Isolde, even as her voice hauntingly conveys the genuine feeling of the music's heightened realism. Credited to director Travis Preston, the show first played here 10 years ago; since then, the piece has evolved into a lighter, breezier work that emphasizes folksy general opera stories over Migenes' actual biography, which would frankly be welcome. When she's telling her story, Migenes exudes a sultry sophistication and a dry wit; when she sings (accompanied by Victoria Kirsch's excellently evocative piano playing), she's every bit the diva she purports to be, making this a unique and captivating experience. Odyssey Theatre, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., W.L.A.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., 7 p.m. (no perfs Dec. 24-25, Dec. 31, Jan. 6), through Jan. 9. (310) 477-2055. (Paul Birchall)

Remembering John Lennon.

Today, if you go into just about any coffeehouse throughout the land, the usual mélange of Christmas songs such as “Little Drummer Boy” and “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” have been gratefully, if temporarily replaced by songs celebrating the life and times of the central Beatle, John Lennon, who was assassinated 30 years ago today. For that alone, I suppose, one must be thankful to Lennon, even if the Beatles music provides but a temporary respite from the a-tonal warbling of “I Saw Mama Kissing Santa Claus (Underneath the Mistletoe Last Night).”

Of course I never knew John Lennon. How could I have? But quite briefly my mother and I sublet one of the apartments in the glamorous Art Deco buildings directly across from The Dakota on 72nd Street and Central Park West. Quite a lovely neighborhood! This was back in the late 70s, when the neighborhood was full of leafy canopies and crazy old women wearing frilly hats walking their little poodles. Hard boiled doormen in huge longcoats would nod and smile at you as you would walk down the street, heading for the entrance to Central Park, which, in the memory of my childhood mind, was leafy and green and full of golden light. This would have been right around when Lennon and Ono were living quietly in the Dakota across the street from us. No, we never saw him: These were big Central Park West apartment buildings and each one was like its own outer space colony. But for that brief summer and fall, we had the same view, on a high floor, overlooking the sprawling green of Central Park and the elegant grey sidewalks of Central Park West.

On the night John Lennon was shot by the maniacal John David Chapman, I was living in Santa Monica and in my first year at Santa Monica High School. What was that – 1979? 1980? 1980, yes. Anyway, I was watching some idiotic TV show, I recall, when the TV reporter broke in suddenly, to announce the news that John Lennon had been shot outside the Dakota. Well, at the time, I noticed that my mother had quite a strong reaction – she was a child of the sixties and all, though, and he was quite the iconic figure to someone growing up in the Ground Zero of the Greenwich Village beat movement. For me, I just wondered precisely why they were interrupting TV shows to announce the death of someone who was a celebrity, not a political figure like the President. I mean, Lennon was a good Beatle, of course, but did he warrant such an interruption of my episode of “One Day at a Time?”

However, the next morning, I grabbed my little blue packpack and threw it raffishly over one shoulder, like all the trendy kids were doing with their backpacks that year to be cool, and headed off to school. Overnight, an upset student had clearly broken into the school grounds with a can of spray paint. Yet, clearly a West Coast breed of anarchist, he had vandalized the science and humanities buildings with lyrics from John Lennon songs. “Give Peace a Chance!” the vandal had sprayed on one Wall. “All You Need is Love,” he had written on another. “You might say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one,” and “Imagine – John Lennon, 1980” all were scrawled all over the gym outer walls.

I recall thinking that, my goodness, someone was so powerfully moved by the news of the death of John Lennon that they literally felt they had no alternative but to storm the Samohi campus and declare their despair and grief in the only way they knew how. I remember realizing that if I did not think this cultural moment was not significant, well, that was my problem, not the world’s. And now I have lived long enough to realize that, even at 16 or 15 or however old I was, that was a Zeitgeist Moment.

David: The Musical

When reviewing the premiere of a new musical, one must be ever cognizant of the amount of work that has gone into its creation. Fully scored, booked and staged musicals take an almost astonishing amount of effort and audacity to execute -- and this can be all the more upsetting when the outcome is as misbegotten as is this near-incoherent adaptation of the story of the Old Testament's King David, his seduction of the beautiful Bathsheba, and his despair over his wayward sons Absalom and Amnon. Or, at least, that appears to be what the musical is about: Director Adam T. Rosencrance's production is in modern dress, which is not necessarily an unimaginative idea, but the presentation of the story is utterly without context -- the Biblical incidents are merely strung together with little dramatic development, psychological subtext or convincing emotion. One moment, Dane Bowman's oddly wooden David is crowned king, the next he's seducing Sara Collins' almost comically Valley girl-like Bathsheba. Other performers take on multiple roles -- but the character changes are disjointed and without explanation, often accomplished merely by an actor donning a new jacket or shirt, and not changing his actual personality. Thus, we start to wonder why David's servant Caleb (Austin Grehan) is suddenly one of the assassins plotting his demise, or why David's son Amnon (J. D. Driskill shows up as a spear-carrying soldier in the Hittite army. The score, credited to Costanza, Tim Murner, Rich Lyle and Michelle Holmes, is a workmanlike mix of heavy-metal rock anthems and hard country ballads ably rendered by the rock band Pullman Standard, but the numbers are all lyric-driven, and the singing is miserably drowned out by the hyperamplified sound system. More dismaying than the lack of coherence, though, is the lack of Goliath, who is barely mentioned in the play and whose absence seems like a painfully missed dramatic opportunity -- like trying to tell the story of World War II without a Nazi. Some of the show's early production flaws may iron themselves out over the course of the run -- one of the main actors was still lugging his script about like a Torah throughout the entire performance, for example. Hayworth Theatre, 2511 Wilshire Blvd., L.A.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; through October 17. brownpapertickets.com. (Paul Birchall)

I Laughed So Hard I Cried.

As you might expect from a comic who dubs himself "the Goth Comedian," Mark White tells jokes that edge toward the darker and more disturbed side of the spectrum. Yet, you need not be afraid that the Goth Jokester will come onstage, bite the head off a bat, and then tell that tired gag about the two peanuts walking down the street. Fortunately, it turns out that White is a first-rate comedian who just happens to have a goth persona. Some of White's material is amusing -- most particularly jokes about his unique childhood masturbation technique ("Assume the paratrooper position!") and his parents' sagging tattoos ("I have seen the future of tattoos, and they're not pretty!"). Even given White's costume trappings of ghoulish lipstick, mascara and a seersucker suit, the Goth Comedian's routine is fresh and unexpectedly touching. In spite of his attempts to portray himself as a freak, he ultimately comes across as a sweet, oddly vulnerable fellow whose makeup belies an unexpected romantic streak. Complex Theatre, 6476 Santa Monica Blvd., Hlywd. CLOSED. (Paul Birchall/L.A. Weekly)

That's Funny! You Didn't Sound Black On The Phone!

Performer Jacquetta Szathmari explains that for many years she had "given up on being black," not out of any internalized racism but because she had always disapproved of the narrow definition of behavior imposed on her by the outside community. In her cracklingly smart, funny, philosophical and often politically incorrect monologue, Szathmari describes growing up in an isolated, hardscrabble rural Maryland community, where she always dreamed of finding class and culture -- it's not that she didn't want to be black, she wanted to be upper class and live the life exemplified by a copy of The Official Preppy Handbook she purchased at a library bookstore. Thoughtful, introspective and sweetly intimate, Szathmari's solo show offers a great deal to ponder, as it presents a genuine, unapologetic nonconformist on her own journey of self-discovery. Various locations, hollywoodfringe.org/learn/content/268. (Paul Birchall/L.A. Weekly)

55 Minutes of Sex, Drugs, and Audience Participation.

Howard Lieberman and Loren Niemi's storytelling tour de force plants its tent pole deep in the territory of 1970s mythos, with the two men improvising earthy tales that are hilarious yet strangely melancholy. Some of the anecdotes undeniably hint at a nostalgia for a freer, hippie past -- of the four stories the two men unspooled, three described incidents involving sex-and-LSD drenched communes. Of the pair, Niemi, a craggy-faced, ponytail caparisoned character actor, tells more deeply introspective stories about drug use and an innocent romance, while Lieberman assays the persona of a neurotic Jewish intellectual as he describes his first (near) homosexual experience and his loss of virginity to a beautiful she-hippie. These two are fascinating performers who manage to whip up a theatrical experience from little more than their mouths and imaginations. ComedySportzLA, Ballroom Studio Theatre, 733 Seward St., Hlywd.; June 22-27, hollywoodfringe.org/project/view/54 (Paul Birchall/L.A. Weekly)

Can You Hear Me Now?

The DMV waiting room provides the comic fodder for playwright Phoebe Neidhardt's workmanlike series of character portraits of the denizens and customers at the government office where the author has gone to get a new license photo. The problem is that the real wackos waiting in line at the DMV are inevitably more interesting and engaging than these generic denizens of the government office. Neidhardt depicts the prissy gay DMV license photographer, a hard boiled female casting agent (with a yeast infection), a child's nanny (who inexplicably talks like Holly Hunter), and a cheerful Latino desk clerk. While the actress is commendably versatile, the characterizations lack the context and dramatic heft to emerge as anything more than the briefest of routine snapshots. Hudson Guild Theatre, 6539 Santa Monica Blvd, Hollywood; June 26, 8 p.m. hollywoodfringe.org/project/view/161. (Paul Birchall/L.A. Weekly)

921 F (For Feces)

Today was the day I came into the library to learn that a scoundrel had snuck into the biography section and smeared several whole shelves of books with his feces. It actually happened on Wednesday, and, in the aftermath, the entire section had been sealed off from the public by a Hazmat team and the vandalized books had been removed and bagged. The librarians had gone through the books to see which were salvageable, and which were, sadly, lost causes. When I arrived on Friday, much of the mess had been cleared up and attempts had been made to fill in the shelves, at least with a few books.

People who do not work in libraries may be shocked at the astonishing number of appalling incidents of this type that take place in locations that are supposedly meant for leisure and the betterment of the community at large. But, you see, the library is open and available to everyone -- and that means that anyone can come in and do whatever they desire. You may think that a library is like a social club, or a dignified place of quiet and peace, when, really, it is much more like a bus station waiting room or city park lavatory (with books on the wall). Although thousands and thousands of visitors are decent, respectful, and well intentioned users of the library, it only takes a comparative few wicked souls to ruin it quite well for many of them. And that, of course, is why they do it. You can either become famous by being the President or by killing the President – guess which one is easier to do?

A nice librarian snuck me into the top secret Reference Office to see the pile of salvaged books. They were mostly 921s – biographies for those of you who do not knew the Dewey Decimal System. And there were some Russian history books in the 890s, as well – those would be the books in the shelf on the other side of the biography section. The librarian I chatted with was somewhat curious as to the decision to vandalize biographies and wondered whether it had something to do with some particular obsession on the part of vandal. However, “if that was the case,” the librarian opined, “I would have thought he would have smeared feces over the 200s.” The 200s, as you may or may not know, is the section about religion.

The librarians were, as you can imagine, disgusted and rather depressed by the vandalism, which, in fact, was accomplished in a decidedly wily and careful way – calculated to destroy books that were, not only, frequently used but which also just happened to be shelved in a part of the building that is out of the sightline of the reference desk. No one saw the feces being smeared or thrown – the first anyone knew of it was when a patron reported that there appeared to be “chocolate” smeared all over some book shelves.

In the library work room, we all spent many minutes debating how the act had been accomplished. One security guard suggested that the feces had merely been hidden inside a plastic baggy and smeared along the shelves. Another page believed that the offensive ordure had been liquefied and stored in a squirt bottle for easy pouring and squirting on the books. This made sense to me, as I had seen on many episodes of my beloved MSNBC TV series “Lock Up” that convicts often create water bottles of feces to throw at the guards in the hopes of infecting them with Hepatitis.

In any case, the incident caused quite a stir at an establishment that doesn’t want for excitement. If you had told me, when I started working at the library, I would pretty much find myself working at a madhouse, I would not have believed you. But this isn’t even my first library incident involving feces! It’s something like the second or third. And today’s feces didn’t even represent the last exciting event of the afternoon. As I was heading out of the Computer Commons at the end of my shift, one of the security guards approached me to say that he had just escorted a library regular, a mentally unstable fellow known for his stench and the billowing white scarf he wears day and night, out of the building for masturbating in the fiction section – which, it turns out, is the favored section for homeless masturbation sessions. It seems to me they should rename the two sections of the library really. You want Steven King? Why, you can search for him in the masturbation section. You want a book about cats or a biography of Mozart? Check out the feces section.

Skylight at the Fremont Theater Center (reprinted from the LA Weekly)

Along with his works Plenty and The Secret Rapture, David Hare's 1995 drama is one of his "Big Lady" plays, in which a strong willed female protagonist is ultimately hoisted by the petard of her own glittering ideals. In this case, the woman in question is sensitive Kyra (Erin Shaver), who has broken up with her former restaurant tycoon lover Tom (Stuart W. Howard), after his wife found out about their affair. Kyra, now punishing herself by living in a frosty flat in an unfashionable part of London, where she ekes out a living teaching inner city schoolkids, is unexpectedly visited by Tom, who, now that his wife has died of cancer, is eager to rekindle their flame. The romantic sparks start to sputter, though, when the piece sidelines into a fiery debate about the principles and flaws of Capitalism and Liberalism, which, frankly, is Hare's real concern. It's possible that in a few weeks director Ken Meseroll's stodgy production of the seething drama will gel to reflect the play's subtle emotional shifts and nuances in a more involving way. At this point, though, Meseroll's staging is merely workmanlike with flat line readings and stiff blocking, while also missing the psychological edge and layering implied by Hare's delicate, yet fiercely intelligent script. Shaver offers a likable, if emotionally restrained turn as Kyra, while Howard is nicely oily and pompous as Tom. However, it's hard to believe for a moment that the pair would have had an affair. In addition, the performers are often so hamstrung by their attempts to wrestle with the British dialect, you almost wish they had jettisoned it entirely. Set designer Joel Daavid crafts a beautifully detailed, warm, and intimate living room set which nevertheless feels utterly at odds with the frigid description of the location in the play itself. Fremont Centre Theatre, 1000 Fremont Ave, South Pasadena; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; thru June 20. (866) 811-4111. (Paul Birchall)

It Ain't All Confetti! (Reprinted from the LA Weekly)

"Rip Taylor? Isn't he dead?" opined an unkind family member upon learning that this weekend I was reviewing the new one man show written and starring Rip Taylor, the legendary comedian and popular culture "character." TV viewers of A Certain Age (and older) will doubtless recall Taylor, an omnipresent fixture of the 1970s, familiar from countless appearances on game shows like Match Game and Password, and also a Vegas go-to opening act for stars like Sammy Davis Jr., Judy Garland, and Eleanor Powell. With his masterfully mugging shtick, bugging eyes, waggling tongue, and silly one liners, Taylor's style wasn't for anyone - and it was easy to dismiss his "character" as a rube. And, yet, as his solo effort (directed by David Galligan) aptly indicates, any performer who has managed to have as huge career for as many decades as he has clearly possesses a mighty amount of talent, and steel willpower. In the opening moments of Galligan's fast moving, intimate production, Taylor strides onto the stage, clearly somewhat frail but still every inch the showman. His flapping toupee perches hilariously askew, as his pointy mustache waves. Next, he whips out a thick pile of file cards, each containing an individual one liner - and, in a dizzying display of jaw-dropping gagsmanship, he goes through every one, over 80 in all, within the first 10 minutes. From there, Taylor rips off his toupee, tosses it behind him, and switches over to more serious subject matter (with barely a joke in sight), as he describes his troubled childhood, his early successes as an MC at the Atlantic City strip club circuit, his subsequent discovery for the Ed Sullivan Show while performing at the Catskills, and the gradual honing of his carefully calculated stage persona, which has been his bread and butter for over half a century. Many of Taylor's revelations are fairly surface level, dealing with his interactions with the stars he's come across - and he often seems so in control over what he's saying, you could starve to death waiting for any "behind the mask" information about the performer. Yet, the show is ultimately a compelling presentation of a life - and it's as much a must see for students and historians of the comedy of a certain era as it is for folks who just want to share a warm laugh with a thoroughly amiable performer. El Portal Theatre, 11206 Waddington Street, North Hollywood. Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; thru June 6. www.elportaltheatre.com (866) 811-4111. (Paul Birchall)