TeenTix Blog by TeenTix Newsroom

In every human life, there is a mother. It’s a foundational experience for most, but that doesn’t mean it’s one free of complexity or hardship. In the final concert of their 8th season, Mother, Emerald City Music combines film and music into a flawed but impactful meditation on the relationships we have with our mothers.

Mother’s program was made up of five short films and five relevant musical selections, each told through interviews with a diverse group of subjects, varying in age, race, class, and background. It began with a simple and familiar lullaby, “Wiegenlied,” by the mid-romantic icon Johannes Brahms. This gentle piece segued into the first film, “Mother is…” which explored that very question by simply asking the interviewees. Answers varied greatly, ranging from “a monster” to “an adventurer.”

Pianist Adam Neiman is a painter of sound. No note is too brief for him to color, and no piece is too simple to spin vivid images of. At the Seattle Chamber Music Society, Neiman’s program of Ravel and Rachmaninoff miniatures wasn’t monumental, but he brought out their charm. Sensitive and meticulous, he treated the audience to a jewel box of a performance—intimate, quaint, and restorative.

If McCaw or Benaroya Hall is like the Climate Pledge Arena, the Seattle Chamber Music Society is like The Vera Project. It’s smaller and focuses more on educating audiences. The audience members, who are mostly elderly, know each other on a name basis, and I got a nametag at the entrance.

It’s been a pleasure curating the events for the newsroom this year. One thing we zoomed in on was finding events from underrepresented venues and artists to push our writers into the deep zone of art critique. Although you’re guaranteed a good time at big venues such as 5th Ave., or MoPOP, branching out to explore smaller events deepens our knowledge of the arts and their impacts. Especially for teens, gaining familiarity with the corners of the arts scene in Seattle can take a rabbit hole of research and bravery. Good art is important in a community, but learning to unravel details transforms its impact. We hope you find time this summer to explore the niches of the Seattle arts scene.

Earshot Jazz has an enormous calendar of daily jazz events around Seattle. From cafes to fancy hotels, they’ve got a wide variety of performers that won’t disappoint. If you’re looking to deepen your jazz taste or try something new this is your jackpot.

For this year’s Seattle Black Film Festival, arts organization, and festival host LANGSTON Seattle paid homage to the complexity of Black experiences. The festival offered a variety of films featuring local and international Black actors, directors, and producers. The genres and styles varied from unconventional mediums, like music and dance videos, to short yet devastating films showcasing the intricacies of interpersonal relationships. I focused on short films from the series “‘Waiting to Exhale: Films from the Feminine Perspective” and was struck by how each filmmaker chose to utilize or subvert expectations placed on Black women.

The first film I watched, entitled “Dressed” (2023), challenges the idea that marriage is the pinnacle of achievement. It follows the main character through her series of misadventures trying to sell her lightly-used wedding dress. While the context behind her urgency to sell the dress remains unclear to the viewer, writer, and director Bethiael Alemayoh pushes us almost uncomfortably close to the main character, so close it feels like the viewer is an accomplice to her unsuccessful attempts to get her life together. Ann-Kathryne Mills in Dressed (2023), written and directed by Bethiael Alemayoh

It’s difficult to imagine the humanity behind a faceless entity like a corporation. With the way that many corporations are discussed in the news and media, it becomes a challenge to remember that there are people behind them and that at a certain point, the business ceases to represent them. This loss of connection and humanity was observed by Stefano Massini and captured in his play The Lehman Trilogy, a show of epic proportions that depicts the inner lives of the family behind Lehman Brothers Bank, a company widely known in part because of its eventual downfall. Ben Powers’ adaptation of the script was brought to life on stage by director John Langs and a mere trio of actors: ACT’s adaptation of The Lehman Trilogy presents an incredibly emotional, engaging elaboration on the play through the clever staging and direction, evocative performances, and impressive technical prowess. These aspects of the adaptation offer a remarkable portrayal of the Lehman family’s journey to America, their business’s rise to prominence, the painstaking power struggles against one another, and the cycle of fathers, sons, and brothers that brought the business into existence.

The play follows three generations of the Lehman family and the evolution of the family business across those generations, from humble beginnings of a fabric store in Alabama to an internationally renowned, immensely powerful investment bank. An act is dedicated to each era of the family, spanning from the 1840s to the 2000s, and with each era, a different iteration of the Lehman Brothers’ business. The first act sees the business grow in scale as the brothers are pitted against each other, through the chaos of the Montgomery fire and the beginnings of the Civil War. The second act sees the turn of the century, with the business moved to New York City and reaching new heights under the control of the family’s next generation. The business grows and grows, but faces the looming threat of the market crash by the end of act two. Finally, the third act details the harrowing struggle of the final generation of Lehmans to pull America out of the Depression. Following their success, the show takes a turn, depicting the arrogant feeling of invincibility held by the workers at the Lehman Corporation as the business transitions to one of the biggest international investment banks. The energy of the third act enraptures the viewer, to the point where the foregone conclusion of bankruptcy still felt like a shocking ending, leaving the audience reeling as the stage blacks out. The Lehman Trilogy at ACT Contemporary Theatre, photo by Rosemary Dai Ross

A green sign on a black wall of MoPOP’s Gone Too Soon exhibit, guest curated by Nabila Ahmed, asks questions like “What was your first reaction to this person’s death?” and “Did their death change the way you took in their work?”

These questions are designed for those old enough to remember the night when Robin Williams died, the day Kurt Cobain died by suicide, and the day Biggie Smalls was murdered. On the August night Robin Williams had taken his own life, my first thought was of his role as John Keating in Dead Poets Society. It seemed ironic, and deeply sad, that the teacher who had tried to save Neal hadn’t been able to save himself.

Lots of big ideas and only ten minutes on the clock: an author's worst nightmare. Or could it be something more? With their new 10-minute play festival, Inspired By… Mirror Stage sets up this thought-provoking challenge that bends and twists the limits of storytelling, allowing for playwrights, directors, and actors to shine. Inspired By… showcases six new plays that reflect the world we live in today, and the challenges we face in the Seattle community.

I had the pleasure of interviewing one of the Inspired By… playwrights, Stacy D. Flood, to find out why this is a festival truly like no other – and why, perhaps, limitations are a way to break through barriers. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Nothing ever gets old in the Market Theatre, where, for over 30 years now, Unexpected Productions has resided and produced spontaneous shows for its eager audience. As surprising as it may seem, they’re Seattle’s oldest improvisational company and have been entertaining theater-goers with nothing less than truly one-of-a-kind experiences.

Attending THIS IS FOR YOU: An Improvised Theatre Poetry Experience, which ran from April 5-28 in honor of National Poetry Month, was the first time I attended an improv show, and I was excited to find out how the performers would combine improvisation and poetry. Most of all, the idea of going to a show that would never happen again was intriguing. That’s the thing about improvisation: it’s always changing. The only constants are the actors on stage and their immense creativity.

Romeo and Juliet is the classic tragedy of star-crossed lovers who are famously doomed from the start. This version, produced by the Seattle Shakespeare Company, consists of 2.5 hours immersing the audience in beautiful language and guiding us through a complete rollercoaster of emotions.

Taking my seat in the audience at the Center Theatre, the sense of intimacy struck me immediately in the small, dimly lit space. This was heightened by the fact that the stage was on the floor, with the actors on the same level as the audience, blurring the line between performer and spectator. As the theatrical smoke wafted over us, anticipation hung in the air. Everyone sensed that something momentous was bound to happen; we just didn’t know what.

At Jet City, improvisation is the name of the game. With their new production, Journey of the Wind, they use the malleability of improv storytelling to explore themes of humanity, loss, and childhood– all with the whimsy and finesse of your favorite animated films.

Atop the simple, rounded platforms of the stage, this collaboration, running from May 3-18 at Theatre Off Jackson, between Jet City Improv Presents and Chinatown’s Pork Filled Productions shines.

On the cold rainy evening of April 20, the Seattle Repertory Jazz Orchestra performed a selection of pieces from Blues and the Abstract Truth, the 1961 landmark jazz album by composer and saxophonist Oliver Nelson. SRJO performed the repertoire, along with two pieces composed by artistic director Michael Brockman, with smooth, assertive skill and an infectious love for the music at hand.

That night, Benaroya’s Illsley Ball Nordstrom Recital Hall was distinctly warm, even before the concert started. Its field of red seats sloped softly under the overhead lights. Patrons talked to and greeted each other, some so familiarly it felt like a monthly community potluck. The stage sat close and cozy to the audience, with a piano, drum set, and array of chairs for the musicians gleaming a short distance from the front row seats. As the hall filled, a few orchestra members started coming onstage and taking their seats, quietly laughing with each other and tuning their instruments. One musician spotted friends in the front few rows and chatted with them from the stage. As the lights came down and people settled into their seats, the person introducing the band made sure to shout out volunteers and board members in the audience. Before a single brassy note was played, there was a joyful lack of divide in that hall.

Then, when the performance truly began, that lack of division made SRJO’s concert something special. Nelson’s album cascades (even beyond the song called “Cascades”) in conversational yet calculated melodies, dulcetly energetic. The mood of the concert varied from song to song, but each piece played – including the ones not from Nelson’s album – shared that conversational yet calculated aspect. In “Hoe Down,” my favorite song of the repertoire and one of the first ones SRJO performed, the band blared brightly and assertively like a morning parade, while in “Teenie’s Blues,” they wound their way through deeper, darker sounds like rafts through a river. Every member of the band, from the saxophones to the trumpets to the trombones to the rhythm section, and guest vocalist Jacqueline Tabor, got a chance to shine in a solo, and shine they did. When a musician stood up, or stayed seated in the rhythm section’s case, all eyes in the audience and the band turned to them as they played their solo. Photo by Jim Levitt

And it’s here where you could spend the whole concert watching a single musician. Each band member plays at least one solo, but each person also reacts to the rest of the band’s musicianship. When drummer D'Vonne Lewis takes command of a song, the rest of the band stays active, tapping their feet, watching him play, or nodding their heads as they listen intently to the rhythms. When Tabor joins the band onstage for a vocal piece, she’s a lightning rod of attention. When trumpeters stand up to improvise a section, the saxophonists in the front row smile as the riffs hit their ears. Every single musician is absolutely in it, steadily and seamlessly. Watching them know this music inside and out, enjoying each other’s musicianship, is delightful.

Throughout the show, artistic director Michael Brockman intersperses the music with explanations of the pieces and introductions to soloists, conversing smoothly with the audience. The energy in the room is a call and response, in which the audience gladly participates. People laugh at the right moments, whoop and cheer for soloists, and soak in the anecdotes of Nelson’s return to classic jazz at a point in time when the genre’s future was uncertain. It’s no surprise that there’s no fourth wall in Seattle Repertory Jazz Orchestra’s Blues and the Abstract Truth. It’s easy to be an attentive audience member when the performers are simply masters of what they do. It’s easy to sit back and enjoy when SRJO reminds you of the truth, abstract or not: it’s pure fun to listen to great musicians performing great music.Photo by Jim Levitt

Despite music’s being a universal aspect of human culture, it evades definition. You would imagine that after hundreds of thousands of years of innovation and evolution, we would have answers to fundamental questions like, what is music? It’s fundemental yet elusive, so should it merely be enjoyed rather than questioned? The icon of New Music, The Kronos Quartet, proves why curiosity will always be relevant in Sam Green's multimedia documentary and concert, A Thousand Thoughts.

The Kronos Quartet is among the most esteemed and forward-thinking in New music. Considering this, documenting their history, motivations, and long artistic journey is no easy task and could never be achieved through conventional means. Sam Green explores the ephemeral nature of music, time, and life, all while presenting the group's rich history on the big screen.

When you read the word “theater,” what do you picture? A raised stage with red curtains and footlights? Dramatic dialogue spoken from behind the fourth wall? Silence from the audience broken only by appropriate laughter and polite applause?

Well, if that sounds boring to you, welcome to Scrambling the Goose! Washington Ensemble Theatre’s newest show, which ran at 12th Avenue Arts from April 26 to May 17, challenges conventional boundaries of theater, not only by showcasing a wide variety of mediums and genres, but also by incorporating the audience as a crucial part of the show.

K-pop is famous for immersing its audience in bright colors, electric performances, singing, dancing, and endearing connections between artists and fans. One popular Korean boy group is Enhypen, a seven-member ensemble formed within the K-pop survival show I-Land. Enhypen consists of members Sunghoon, Heeseung, Sunoo, Jungwon, Jay, Jake, and Niki, who each contribute a distinct energy to the group. Whether elegant, grungy, or endearing, Enhypen pulls off an array of aesthetics. Since their iconic debut in 2020, Given Taken, Enhypen has experienced tremendous success, leading them to tour globally.

Love problems, and moral issues, Village Theatre’s The Fantasticks deals with it all. This interpretation delves into childhood naivety and the ways we can be misguided by the things we least suspect. Despite its well-trodden storyline, the production breathes new life into the classic tale, ensuring familiarity doesn't breed lethargy.

Set against a backdrop of two houses separated by a wall, the musical follows the story of two fathers who conspire to unite their children, Luisa and Matt. The show invites the audience to engage in the unfolding narrative, allowing for a more interactive and immersive experience. At times, the audience gets questioned by El Gallo, the narrator, and bandit in charge of uniting the children, or looked at directly by the cast, treated like the lesson is the audience’s to learn too. It is worth noting that while the production succeeds in revitalizing the script by taking out many controversial scenes, there are moments where it stumbles. A fleeting reference to rape felt out of place and unnecessary, detracting from the scene. As it was spoken so quickly, it solidified that the show could have easily gone on without it. Photo courtesy of Auston James

The first thing you hear at the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s performance of The Seasons' Canon at McCaw Hall, and the thing that sticks with you throughout the rest of the performance, is the sharp and dynamic choir that begins Twyla Tharp’s Sweet Fields, the first of three works. Constructed of eleven voices, the choir accompanies the ten-part operation with religious hymns from the 18th and 19th centuries. The songs are simple but elevated by crisp tenor voices, later joined by the winding sopranos and altos. Pacific Northwest Ballet company dancers in Twyla Tharp’s Sweet Fields™. Photo © Angela Sterling, 2024.

Due to the power and excellence of the music, the linked dances sometimes feel like they accompany the score, instead of the other way around. The choreography is creative, switching between blue-toned, lighthearted vignettes and brooding, funeral-march-inspired processions. Visually, most of the dances work quite well. Tharp’s fast-paced, complex actions are sometimes lost in their technicalities, but the overall, folksy theme and the duality of celebration and death make for a series of enticing pairings.

It’s a busy time of year at the TeenTix Newsroom. We’ve arrived at the last review cycle of the TeenTix program year, many of us are students and are submerged in final exams and AP tests, and, for some, graduation is on the horizon. We hope that, as the year wraps up and the days seep into summer, you can take some time to rest. To breathe, enjoy a steady moment of your day, and maybe – surely even – go see some art! Here’s what we’re covering this month at the Newsroom.

Seattle Chamber Music Society is bringing a unique classical music fix with Adam Neiman’s varied program featuring Rachmaninoff's 6 Moments Musicaux, Ravel’s Miroirs, and Neiman’s own Visions. Moments Musicaux are very well known in the piano world, with the famous No.4 in E minor held as one of the hardest piano pieces of all time due to its rolling left hand. This set of concert etudes features a combination of musical complexity from introspective reverie to inner turmoil making it a perfect concert piece. If you’re looking to explore classical and experimentalist music you can see Adam Neiman perform on May 10th.

Two spinster sisters sit in the parlor of their ancestral mansion. The mastiff, with his drooping jowls, pants rhythmically atop a brocaded carpet. The windows let in the weak light from the endless gray sky of the Moors; the maid Marjorie (or is it Mallory? Margret?) coughs and complains that their company is late. A governess, fresh-faced from London, arrives today.

Walking into Seattle Public Theater (known affectionately as “The Bathhouse”), the intimate, public-bathhouse-turned-blackbox-theater is filled with soft, slightly ominous piano music. On the stage is a dark sitting room, where antique, dark tones are counterbalanced by a millennial-pink velvet sofa. The moody set is a perfect, yet slightly quirky, canvas for a period piece—so long as you can ignore the paintings donning sunglasses and the converse-clad cast. Highlights in hair and pom-pom pens abound.

STEW at the ACT is a truly contemporary performance that explores the hefty concepts of family, guilt, and maturity. Centering on an intergenerational female household, the play relays the importance of breaking generational trauma through visual and aural cues. The narrative opens by introducing the family’s matriarch, Mama. Soon after, in a chaotic fashion, the rest of the family is introduced: Mama’s daughters Lillian, and teenage Nelly, and Lil’ Mama, Lillian’s daughter. At first, It was difficult to understand their relationships, but it became clear by the second act. The family is deeply interconnected, and each family member’s life parallels those from earlier generations. For example, Mama had Lillian at 17 and Lillian also had Lil’ Mama at 17. The other parallels are revealed at tense points throughout the performance, and the newer generations’ drive to break the often unfair norm created by their previous generation serves as a turning point for each character.

The story revolves around Mama making a large batch of stew. Stew brings the whole family together—even though Lillian and Lil’ Mama live elsewhere, they visit Mama to help her make and eat the stew. Stew serves as a symbol of hope and togetherness, and the progress of cooking the stew throughout the play reflects the mood of the story. Shaunyce Omar, Varinique “V” Davis, Shermona Mitchell, Kataka Corn in Stew, photo courtesy of Rosemary Dai Ross

MUSICAL THEATER IN THE HANDS OF TOMORROW'S LEADERS

This motto, displayed prominently at the top of The 5th Avenue Theatre’s Rising Star Project information page, is exemplified by the teen participants of the career and artistic program. Beyond the clear empowerment of future professionals, these leaders of tomorrow are also strengthening and motivating current theater professionals.