Building makes a dramatic impact
Building makes a dramatic impact on the riverfront
LARRY MILLETT
French architect Jean Nouvel's large, dark and rather mysterious new Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis is certainly not your old Guthrie.
Yes, the thrust stage theater within is closely modeled (albeit with wider seats) on Ralph Rapson's acclaimed 1963 original, but that's pretty much where the resemblances end.
Rapson's soon-to-be-demolished theater was small, funky and rather cheaply built — not exactly a flower child of the 1960s but definitely possessing some of that old hippie spirit.
The new Guthrie, by contrast, conveys a sense of power and mass, and, despite the inevitable IKEA jokes, its midnight blue exterior makes the theater a striking presence along the Minneapolis riverfront.
It's a building that some people will undoubtedly like a great deal but that others may find, well, a bit strange.
The building's deep blue exterior, which features scenes from old Guthrie plays screen-printed on more than 500 steel panels, has already provoked much discussion. It's certainly not a color you see every day, and it conveys a dusky, noirish quality, which presumably is what Nouvel was after. In fact, the building as a whole, with its dark metal skin forming a background for carefully staged lighting effects, seems designed to celebrate the night, which is when most theatrical performances will take place.
The building's rather hard, industrial look is also appropriate, despite "power plant" comparisons.
"This building is part of an environment," notes Bertram Beissel, project architect for Nouvel's firm, which affiliated with the Architectural Alliance of Minneapolis in designing the $125 million theater.
The new Guthrie stands next to the old Washburn-Crosby A Mill (now home to a museum as well as new housing) in the heart of what was once the greatest flour-milling complex in human history. A "pretty" new building here would have seemed out of place, as would one that tried to imitate old-style stone and timber mill construction. Nouvel and his team avoided these pitfalls by creating a building that's undeniably modern but that, by virtue of its size and massing, complements the historic structures around it.
LOBBY FAILS TO IMPRESS
Inside, of course, is where all the action will take place, and it's also where Nouvel's design becomes especially interesting — and, in places, disappointing. Perhaps the least satisfactory aspect of the theater is its ground-floor lobby, next to a sleek restaurant space on Second Street.
The lobby can only be described as underwhelming. Although it extends all the way through the building (so as to provide river views as well as access to the box office), it's a low, hall-like room with a blandly utilitarian feel. To put it another way, it lacks drama and excitement, two qualities you'd expect to find upon entering a theater building.
To reach the two main theaters (the 1,110-seat thrust and 700-seat proscenium-arch stages), most people will take an escalator ride to the fourth floor. The escalators, placed between two solid walls to either side of the entrance lobby, are undoubtedly the lengthiest in Minnesota, and as you proceed up them, it's like being in a very long and narrow hallway. Some may find this to be a dramatic experience; for others it may induce claustrophobia.
At the top of the escalators, you'll arrive at a great internal intersection formed by four hallways. This is truly the heart of the building, its center of circulation.
Go left, and you'll reach what's called an ante-lobby for the 1,100-seat thrust-stage theater, which promises to provide the same intimate experience as the original Guthrie, only without being quite so jammed in by narrow aisles and small seats.
Go to your right, and you'll arrive at an ante-lobby for the 700-seat proscenium arch theater, a very nice auditorium with red draped walls and red velvet seats.
Turn around past the escalators, and you'll be in what's called the "orchestra level" lobby, off which are located large men's and women's restrooms (which will come as a great relief, so to speak, for theatergoers accustomed to a shortage of such facilities at other venues).
Your fourth choice is to go forward and, if you have the time, you should do so immediately. This will lead you to another of the building's much talked- (and joked-) about features — the so-called "endless bridge" that thrusts out toward the Mississippi in a most spectacular fashion. At the end of this mighty cantilever is an open balcony offering a vista of St. Anthony Falls and the Stone Arch Bridge so utterly fabulous that you may be tempted to skip whatever play you've come to see and simply soak in the view.
ROOM WITH A VIEW
Nouvel, in fact, has cunningly placed windows throughout the building to exploit river views. The best vantage point of all may be from what's called the "amber box," a small glass enclosure that juts out from the top of the building and serves as part of the lobby for a 200-seat studio theater.
Despite inconvenient sloping floors, the "endless bridge," like almost every other corridor in the building, is designed to do double-duty as a lobby. How this will all work out as a practical matter may prove interesting. In any event, the lack of what might be called a "great lobby" is one of the new Guthrie's most unusual features. It means theatergoers will have a variety of places to idle between acts, but it may also prove confusing until people have "learned" the building.
Aside from the "endless bridge," most of the lobby spaces aren't particularly memorable. One exception is a snazzy lobby on the fifth floor with food and drink service. It features plenty of mirrors and long upholstered benches along the walls. If you've ever been in a wise guy's cocktail lounge on Long Island, say, you'll feel right at home here.
All buildings have secrets, and perhaps the Guthrie's is that, for all of its modern gestures, it in many ways adheres to classic French notions of design. The Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris was, in the 19th century, the most renowned school of architecture in the world. It taught a way of design that called for architects to plan on a large scale, to express a building's inner workings on its exterior and to arrange the parts of a building in a clear, rational manner. The Guthrie does all of this (so that, for example, the thrust theater's curves are expressed on the outside).
Still, it's a large and complex work of architecture, and it's difficult to know exactly how it will work once it formally opens next Sunday. The three theaters themselves should be fine, but figuring out how everyone will circulate through the building is another matter. It won't be perfect — buildings never are — and you have to believe there will be some surprises, both good and bad, when the crowds arrive and the drama begins.
Larry Millett is a retired architecture critic for the Pioneer Press.
LARRY MILLETT
French architect Jean Nouvel's large, dark and rather mysterious new Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis is certainly not your old Guthrie.
Yes, the thrust stage theater within is closely modeled (albeit with wider seats) on Ralph Rapson's acclaimed 1963 original, but that's pretty much where the resemblances end.
Rapson's soon-to-be-demolished theater was small, funky and rather cheaply built — not exactly a flower child of the 1960s but definitely possessing some of that old hippie spirit.
The new Guthrie, by contrast, conveys a sense of power and mass, and, despite the inevitable IKEA jokes, its midnight blue exterior makes the theater a striking presence along the Minneapolis riverfront.
It's a building that some people will undoubtedly like a great deal but that others may find, well, a bit strange.
The building's deep blue exterior, which features scenes from old Guthrie plays screen-printed on more than 500 steel panels, has already provoked much discussion. It's certainly not a color you see every day, and it conveys a dusky, noirish quality, which presumably is what Nouvel was after. In fact, the building as a whole, with its dark metal skin forming a background for carefully staged lighting effects, seems designed to celebrate the night, which is when most theatrical performances will take place.
The building's rather hard, industrial look is also appropriate, despite "power plant" comparisons.
"This building is part of an environment," notes Bertram Beissel, project architect for Nouvel's firm, which affiliated with the Architectural Alliance of Minneapolis in designing the $125 million theater.
The new Guthrie stands next to the old Washburn-Crosby A Mill (now home to a museum as well as new housing) in the heart of what was once the greatest flour-milling complex in human history. A "pretty" new building here would have seemed out of place, as would one that tried to imitate old-style stone and timber mill construction. Nouvel and his team avoided these pitfalls by creating a building that's undeniably modern but that, by virtue of its size and massing, complements the historic structures around it.
LOBBY FAILS TO IMPRESS
Inside, of course, is where all the action will take place, and it's also where Nouvel's design becomes especially interesting — and, in places, disappointing. Perhaps the least satisfactory aspect of the theater is its ground-floor lobby, next to a sleek restaurant space on Second Street.
The lobby can only be described as underwhelming. Although it extends all the way through the building (so as to provide river views as well as access to the box office), it's a low, hall-like room with a blandly utilitarian feel. To put it another way, it lacks drama and excitement, two qualities you'd expect to find upon entering a theater building.
To reach the two main theaters (the 1,110-seat thrust and 700-seat proscenium-arch stages), most people will take an escalator ride to the fourth floor. The escalators, placed between two solid walls to either side of the entrance lobby, are undoubtedly the lengthiest in Minnesota, and as you proceed up them, it's like being in a very long and narrow hallway. Some may find this to be a dramatic experience; for others it may induce claustrophobia.
At the top of the escalators, you'll arrive at a great internal intersection formed by four hallways. This is truly the heart of the building, its center of circulation.
Go left, and you'll reach what's called an ante-lobby for the 1,100-seat thrust-stage theater, which promises to provide the same intimate experience as the original Guthrie, only without being quite so jammed in by narrow aisles and small seats.
Go to your right, and you'll arrive at an ante-lobby for the 700-seat proscenium arch theater, a very nice auditorium with red draped walls and red velvet seats.
Turn around past the escalators, and you'll be in what's called the "orchestra level" lobby, off which are located large men's and women's restrooms (which will come as a great relief, so to speak, for theatergoers accustomed to a shortage of such facilities at other venues).
Your fourth choice is to go forward and, if you have the time, you should do so immediately. This will lead you to another of the building's much talked- (and joked-) about features — the so-called "endless bridge" that thrusts out toward the Mississippi in a most spectacular fashion. At the end of this mighty cantilever is an open balcony offering a vista of St. Anthony Falls and the Stone Arch Bridge so utterly fabulous that you may be tempted to skip whatever play you've come to see and simply soak in the view.
ROOM WITH A VIEW
Nouvel, in fact, has cunningly placed windows throughout the building to exploit river views. The best vantage point of all may be from what's called the "amber box," a small glass enclosure that juts out from the top of the building and serves as part of the lobby for a 200-seat studio theater.
Despite inconvenient sloping floors, the "endless bridge," like almost every other corridor in the building, is designed to do double-duty as a lobby. How this will all work out as a practical matter may prove interesting. In any event, the lack of what might be called a "great lobby" is one of the new Guthrie's most unusual features. It means theatergoers will have a variety of places to idle between acts, but it may also prove confusing until people have "learned" the building.
Aside from the "endless bridge," most of the lobby spaces aren't particularly memorable. One exception is a snazzy lobby on the fifth floor with food and drink service. It features plenty of mirrors and long upholstered benches along the walls. If you've ever been in a wise guy's cocktail lounge on Long Island, say, you'll feel right at home here.
All buildings have secrets, and perhaps the Guthrie's is that, for all of its modern gestures, it in many ways adheres to classic French notions of design. The Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris was, in the 19th century, the most renowned school of architecture in the world. It taught a way of design that called for architects to plan on a large scale, to express a building's inner workings on its exterior and to arrange the parts of a building in a clear, rational manner. The Guthrie does all of this (so that, for example, the thrust theater's curves are expressed on the outside).
Still, it's a large and complex work of architecture, and it's difficult to know exactly how it will work once it formally opens next Sunday. The three theaters themselves should be fine, but figuring out how everyone will circulate through the building is another matter. It won't be perfect — buildings never are — and you have to believe there will be some surprises, both good and bad, when the crowds arrive and the drama begins.
Larry Millett is a retired architecture critic for the Pioneer Press.
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