Jumpers Play

When National Theatre director Nicholas Hytner offered him the chance to direct a revival of Tom Stoppard's 1972 classic, "Jumpers," David Leveaux readily agreed. The key reason, he says, was Simon Russell Beale. "You don't think of doing 'Jumpers' unless you have an actor who can carry George Moore," says Leveaux, "and there are few in any generation who can do that." The actor who would be playing Stoppard's passionately intellectual protagonist Moore is no stranger to Stoppard.

When National Theatre director Nicholas Hytner offered him the chance to direct a revival of Tom Stoppard's 1972 classic, "Jumpers," David Leveaux readily agreed. The key reason, he says, was Simon Russell Beale. "You don't think of doing 'Jumpers' unless you have an actor who can carry George Moore," says Leveaux, "and there are few in any generation who can do that." The actor who would be playing Stoppard's passionately intellectual protagonist Moore is no stranger to Stoppard.

Pat, the tortoise in Tom Stoppard's "Jumpers," began life here as an imported Chinese toy in an outdoor market. Spotted, purchased and delivered to the National Theatre's Paul Wanklin by his alert brother-in-law, the future theater star turned out to be not just cheap but durable. Equally important, this turtle was adaptable.

Pat, the tortoise in Tom Stoppard's "Jumpers," began life here as an imported Chinese toy in an outdoor market. Spotted, purchased and delivered to the National Theatre's Paul Wanklin by his alert brother-in-law, the future theater star turned out to be not just cheap but durable. Equally important, this turtle was adaptable.

Thinking back to July 6, as Mike Tupper often does these days, the forest fire looked routine, not like a hellish mass killer. But when Tupper sent smoke jumpers parachuting from a plane to the fire that July day near Glenwood Springs, Colo., two would never return. The two, and a third jumper from another plane, were among 14 firefighters who died when overrun by flames. Tupper hangs his head, his shoulder-length hair falling over an earring, his flashing smile and swashbuckling gait both gone.

* 1/2; BIG BAD VOODOO DADDY; "Big Bad Voodoo Daddy"; Capitol/Coolsville ** 1/2; BLUES JUMPERS; "Wheels Start Turning"; Ridge Big Bad Voodoo Daddy wears a self-appointed crown as Southern California's kings of swing. But to bend a self-congratulatory catch-phrase that this predictable Ventura band predictably blares on its first major-label album: So what if it swings, when it don't mean a thing?

Thinking back to July 6, as Mike Tupper often does these days, the forest fire looked routine, not like a hellish mass killer. But when Tupper sent smoke jumpers parachuting from a plane to the fire that July day near Glenwood Springs, Colo., two would never return. The two, and a third jumper from another plane, were among 14 firefighters who died when overrun by flames. Tupper hangs his head, his shoulder-length hair falling over an earring, his flashing smile and swashbuckling gait both gone.