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You put a spell on me: ACT’S 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

Like any customary competition, The Spelling Bee, has it’s rules and rituals. Could you please use the word in a sentence? Could you pronounce it? The finalists (Leaf, Olive, Logainne, Barfee’, Chip) ask Vice Principle Panch, perhaps stalling. Miss Peretti (organizer and host of “The Bee”) completes the group.

The kids are awash in peccadillos, foibles, and their path to success, strange or daunting. Leaf channels some demon who coincidentally, is a master speller. Olive must deal with stage fright and feuding dads, Barfee’ uses a kind of foot calligraphy and Chip is subjected to an unfortunate erection. First they’re mocked, then they’re lionized.

A pastiche of chaos, dejection and absurd, irreverent humor: The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee takes earnestness and invites us to laugh with, not at. Why does anybody care about a spelling bee? How can this work for a musical comedy? Relegated to the (non-athletic) land of the marginalized and ridiculous, the characters must take themselves seriously. And by the closing song, we understand why.

It’s easy to mistake clownishness for disparagement, but humanity comes through. We are (despite endless digression and flashbacks) actually touched by their bad luck and predicaments. The same things that tickle us. We wonder if it’s critique, or keen reflection of any enterprise. Choosing to make the best of what might be amazing. On this hangs the key irony.

Kudos to Director Eddy Herring for his deft orchestration of this versatile, intrepid cast. This loony, dizzy script. They never miss a cue, or fail to take advantage of any opportunity to trigger helpless laughter. The best kind. They find the tenuous line between pathos and pity. They turn on a dime. The band weaves musical numbers seamlessly. Laura Alley’s whimsical costumes are a perfect fit for the playfful mood.

Allen Contemporary Theatre ran 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee from December 5th-21st, 2025. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX, United States, Texas. (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

Core Theatre’a poignant, sublime Tennessee Wet Rub

Hank and Bertha have shared a home for years. A barbecue shack with bedrooms in back. Though they’re married, they have no children. The menu offers a generous meal for five dollars or less. As Tennessee Wet Rub opens, their lanterns are lit fot the blizzard, that’s taken the electricity. Bertha, well versed in scripture, is certain end days are imminent, though Hank reassures. Their place is isolated, so a knock at the door is alarming. Turns out to be a stranger, Arleta, a teenager carrying a doll. She’s soft spoken, frightened, not at all worldly. She explains Dunk, her fiance’ is right behind. Their car is stuck in a ditch. Dunk is African American.

Bertha and Hank are up in an uproar. They can’t believe a man with honorable intentions would be engaged to this young girl. Certainly not a black man. They’re convinced something’s off-kilter, something they’re not being told. Gradually, Dunk’s impeccable manners, his respectful tone, and Christian upbringing, eases Hank and Bertha’s suspicions. When Dunk and Hank debate wet versus dry rub, they settle it on the kitchen battlefield.

Tennessee Wet Rub, is a keen and masterful stroke. Playwright Kim E. Ruyle writes characters that are detailed, nuanced, and ultimately, goodhearted. You can tell Bertha and Hank are struggling with assumptions, and basically, no compass. This being said, Ruyle is never condescending, or didactic. There’s no moment of epiphany, no lectures. When Vern, the deputy, flies of the handle, Hank stands up for Dunk. He tries to reason but wisdom doesn’t prevail. Again, we see Ruyle’s dedication to virtuosity over homilies. (Though, personally, I would have preferred a different ending, I’m probably more naive than Arleta.) Manipulate, the audience won’t believe you.

As so often is the case, The Core Theatre takes on difficult content (Twelve Angry Jurors, Inferno, To Kill a Mockingbird) with confidence and authority. Director James Prince (who wears many hats) has used each actor to best effect. Joseph Figuerias plays the convivial, stalwart (if hotheaded) Vern. Ariana Hope’s Arleta elicits sympathy and protectiveness, frail but basically steady. Justice Williams as Dunk, is admirable, intelligent, never pompous. Never defensive or angry. Ivy Opdyke and Matt Gunther are Bertha and Hank, the affectionate, if sometimes contentious, married couple. They capture the somber undertone that informs Tennessee Wet Rub, with veracity and familiarity. Opdyke’s Bertha is pious but not unkind. She won’t let Hank push her around. Gunther’s Hank is grounded in the actual. He’s strong-willed, and also easy-going.

Tennessee Wet Rub is volatile, absorbing theatre.  Genuine and deeply moving.

The Core Theatre presents Tennessee Wet Rub, playing August 7th-30th, 206. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 930-5338. james@thecoretheatre.org

 

Core Theatre’s poignant, sublime Tennessee Wet Rub

Hank and Bertha have shared a home for years. A barbecue shack with bedrooms in back. Though they’re married, they have no children. The menu offers a generous meal for five dollars or less. As Tennessee Wet Rub opens, their lanterns are lit fot the blizzard, that’s taken the electricity. Bertha, well versed in scripture, is certain end days are imminent, though Hank reassures. Their place is isolated, so a knock at the door is alarming. Turns out to be a stranger, Arleta, a teenager carrying a doll. She’s soft spoken, frightened, not at all worldly. She explains Dunk, her fiance’ is right behind. Their car is stuck in a ditch. Dunk is African American.

Bertha and Hank are up in an uproar. They can’t believe a man with honorable intentions would be engaged to this young girl. Certainly not a black man. They’re convinced something’s off-kilter, something they’re not being told. Gradually, Dunk’s impeccable manners, his respectful tone, and Christian upbringing, eases Hank and Bertha’s suspicions. When Dunk and Hank debate wet versus dry rub, they settle it on the kitchen battlefield.

Tennessee Wet Rub, is a keen and masterful stroke. Playwright Kim E. Ruyle writes characters that are detailed, nuanced, and ultimately, goodhearted. You can tell Bertha and Hank are struggling with assumptions, and basically, no compass. This being said, Ruyle is never condescending, or didactic. There’s no moment of epiphany, no lectures. When Vern, the deputy, flies of the handle, Hank stands up for Dunk. He tries to reason but wisdom doesn’t prevail. Again, we see Ruyle’s dedication to virtuosity over homilies. (Though, personally, I would have preferred a different ending, I’m probably more naive than Arleta.) Manipulate, the audience won’t believe you.

As so often is the case, The Core Theatre takes on difficult content (Twelve Angry Jurors, Inferno, To Kill a Mockingbird) with confidence and authority. Director James Prince (who wears many hats) has used each actor to best effect. Joseph Figuerias plays the convivial, stalwart (if hotheaded) Vern. Ariana Hope’s Arleta elicits sympathy and protectiveness, frail but basically steady. Justice Williams as Dunk, is admirable, intelligent, never pompous. Never defensive or angry. Ivy Opdyke and Matt Gunther are Bertha and Hank, the affectionate, if sometimes contentious, married couple. They capture the somber undertone that informs Tennessee Wet Rub, with veracity and familiarity. Opdyke’s Bertha is pious but not unkind. She won’t let Hank push her around. Gunther’s Hank is grounded in the actual. He’s strong-willed, and also easy-going.

Tennessee Wet Rub is volatile, absorbing theatre.  Genuine and deeply moving.

The Core Theatre presents Tennessee Wet Rub, playing August 7th-30th, 206. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 930-5338.  james@thecoretheatre.org

 

Core Theatre’s poignant, sublime Tennessee Wet Rub

 

Hank and Bertha have shared a home for years. A barbecue shack with bedrooms in back. Though they’re married, they have no children. The menu offers a generous meal for five dollars or less. As Tennessee Wet Rub opens, their lanterns are lit fot the blizzard, that’s taken the electricity. Bertha, well versed in scripture, is certain end days are imminent, though Hank reassures. Their place is isolated, so a knock at the door is alarming. Turns out to be a stranger, Arleta, a teenager carrying a doll. She’s soft spoken, frightened, not at all worldly. She explains Dunk, her fiance’ is right behind. Their car is stuck in a ditch. Dunk is African American.

Bertha and Hank are up in an uproar. They can’t believe a man with honorable intentions would be engaged to this young girl. Certainly not a black man. They’re convinced something’s off-kilter, something they’re not being told. Gradually, Dunk’s impeccable manners, his respectful tone, and Christian upbringing, eases Hank and Bertha’s suspicions. When Dunk and Hank debate wet versus dry rub, they settle it on the kitchen battlefield.

Tennessee Wet Rub, is a keen and masterful stroke. Playwright Kim E. Ruyle writes characters that are detailed, nuanced, and ultimately, goodhearted. You can tell Bertha and Hank are struggling with assumptions, and basically, no compass. This being said, Ruyle is never condescending, or didactic. There’s no moment of epiphany, no lectures. When Vern, the deputy, flies of the handle, Hank stands up for Dunk. He tries to reason but wisdom doesn’t prevail. Again, we see Ruyle’s dedication to virtuosity over homilies. (Though, personally, I would have preferred a different ending, I’m probably more naive than Arleta.) Manipulate, the audience won’t believe you.

As so often is the case, The Core Theatre takes on difficult content (Twelve Angry Jurors, Inferno, To Kill a Mockingbird) with confidence and authority. Director James Prince (who wears many hats) has used each actor to best effect. Joseph Figuerias plays the convivial, stalwart (if hotheaded) Vern. Ariana Hope’s Arleta elicits sympathy and protectiveness, frail but basically steady. Justice Williams as Dunk, is admirable, intelligent, never pompous. Never defensive or angry. Ivy Opdyke and Matt Gunther are Bertha and Hank, the affectionate, if sometimes contentious, married couple. They capture the somber undertone that informs Tennessee Wet Rub, with veracity and familiarity. Opdyke’s Bertha is pious but not unkind. She won’t let Hank push her around. Gunther’s Hank is grounded in the actual. He’s strong-willed, and also easy-going.

Tennessee Wet Rub is volatile, absorbing theatre.  Genuine and deeply moving.

The Core Theatre presents Tennessee Wet Rub, playing August 7th-30th, 206. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 930-5338. james@thecoretheatre.org

 

Core Theatre’s poignant, sublime Tennessee Wet Rub

Hank and Bertha have shared a home for years. A barbecue shack with bedrooms in back. Though they’re married, they have no children. The menu offers a generous meal for five dollars or less. As Tennessee Wet Rub opens, their lanterns are lit fot the blizzard, that’s taken the electricity. Bertha, well versed in scripture, is certain end days are imminent, though Hank reassures. Their place is isolated, so a knock at the door is alarming. Turns out to be a stranger, Arleta, a teenager carrying a doll. She’s soft spoken, frightened, not at all worldly. She explains Dunk, her fiance’ is right behind. Their car is stuck in a ditch. Dunk is African American.

Bertha and Hank are up in an uproar. They can’t believe a man with honorable intentions would be engaged to this young girl. Certainly not a black man. They’re convinced something’s off-kilter, something they’re not being told. Gradually, Dunk’s impeccable manners, his respectful tone, and Christian upbringing, eases Hank and Bertha’s suspicions. When Dunk and Hank debate wet versus dry rub, they settle it on the kitchen battlefield.

Tennessee Wet Rub, is a keen and masterful stroke. Playwright Kim E. Ruyle writes characters that are detailed, nuanced, and ultimately, goodhearted. You can tell Bertha and Hank are struggling with assumptions, and basically, no compass. This being said, Ruyle is never condescending, or didactic. There’s no moment of epiphany, no lectures. When Vern, the deputy, flies of the handle, Hank stands up for Dunk. He tries to reason but wisdom doesn’t prevail. Again, we see Ruyle’s dedication to virtuosity over homilies. (Though, personally, I would have preferred a different ending, I’m probably more naive than Arleta.) Manipulate, the audience won’t believe you.

As so often is the case, The Core Theatre takes on difficult content (Twelve Angry Jurors, Inferno, To Kill a Mockingbird) with confidence and authority. Director James Prince (who wears many hats) has used each actor to best effect. Joseph Figuerias plays the convivial, stalwart (if hotheaded) Vern. Ariana Hope’s Arleta elicits sympathy and protectiveness, frail but basically steady. Justice Williams as Dunk, is admirable, intelligent, never pompous. Never defensive or angry. Ivy Opdyke and Matt Gunther are Bertha and Hank, the affectionate, if sometimes contentious, married couple. They capture the somber undertone that informs Tennessee Wet Rub, with veracity and familiarity. Opdyke’s Bertha is pious but not unkind. She won’t let Hank push her around. Gunther’s Hank is grounded in the actual. He’s strong-willed, and also easy-going.

Tennessee Wet Rub is volatile, absorbing theatre.  Genuine and deeply moving.

The Core Theatre presents Tennessee Wet Rub, playing August 7th-30th, 206. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 930-5338. james@thecoretheatre.org

 

 

Sit down, John. Sit down, John: ACT’s 1776.

John Adams has a mess on his hands. The chaos of the Continental Congress is working his last nerve. His style loud and intimidating. The rest of the congressmen, however, are used to it. Some have settled in, others still maintaining formality. Adams must convince them to compose a declaration of independence, unheard of and stupefying. The tyranny of Great Britain is unmistakable and unconscionable. Yet some members still want to make nice, and play along. Adams enlists two confederates, Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson (with some persuasion).

Such is the premise of Sherman Edwards and Peter Stone’s musical: 1776. It seems to me period pieces are often a hard sell. Edwards and Stone show us the nuts and bolts of seachange, both madcap and remarkable, forging of a document that will resonate for more than 200 years. It may not be as juicy as say, Jefferson and Sally Hemings, but they pull it off. They humanize well known historical figures: Martha Jefferson, Abigail Adams, John Hancock, Reverend John Witherspoon, Samuel Chase, Richard Henry Lee, et al. They’re not above silly songs and playful jigs, but perfectly capable when it comes to romance and high drama.

Director Eric Levy has orchestrated this ridiculously large cast (25!?) with precision and poise. There’s quite a bit of crossfire dialogue. Complicated blocking, mood shifts, despondent moments. Levy dives right into the midst of this engaging narrative, and takes the rest of us with him. Even that lady with the huge, green hat. We’re caught up in the intensity, atmosphere, and disappointment that came with Continental Congress, finding common ground on a world-changing, gargantuan decision. Kudos to Mr. Levy for the ingenuity, strategy and sharp navigation he managed with finesse.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presented a delightful spectacle of our forefathers, hammering out the details of our Declaration of Independence. Memorable tunes from chipper to somber. Impeccable timing. Testosterone fueled brawling. The actors are top of their game, perfect harmony and disharmony, authentic and avid commitment to character. Sparkling and convivial. Truly a submersive, remarkable production.

Many thanks to Allen Contemporary Theatre, that found room for me on closing weekend.

Allen Contemporary Theatre. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX, United States, 75002. allencontemporarytheatre.net (844) 822-8849

Curiousity and the Cat. Core Theatre’s Ruby Tuesday

Dr. Jamie Allen has a new patient. Ruby Tuesday was named by her ultra-cool hippie parents. Like her brother, she was adopted. She’s reluctantly agreed to see a psychologist because of an incident at work. Seems she climbed out on the ledge, to rescue a cat. Why would she do something so dangerous? That’s for Ruby to know, and Jamie to find out. Even though she insists on her reasoning, Dr. Jamie isn’t convinced. As he recovers bits and pieces, her story’s less and less plausible. And wouldn’t you know, Dr. Jamie goes gaga for Ruby. She may be loopy, but there’s something enchanting, other-worldly about her.

Dr. Ron Hook is Jamie’s mentor, counselor, and “dad”. Therapists seeking therapy from another therapist is not an uncommon. When Jamie confides he and Ruby have crossed an ethical boundary, Ron is understandably appalled. So is Ruby’s best friend, Julie.  Both try to intervene, they’re not wrong. But Ruby and Jamie are smitten. In the midst of all this, Ruby has discovered she has an astonishing power. A secular miracle (if you will). It’s truly fantastic, but strains possibility.

Director James Prince has it nailed. The tone, the blocking, the timing. Unpredictable punchlines land quite nicely. Blackouts fall neither early nor late. Performances are amusing, compelling, and balanced. For his part, playwright Mike Byham, has written sophisticated, well-developed characters, without resorting to tropes. His dialogue feels natural rather than fabricated. The plot organic and effective. David Huner (Dr. Jamie Allen) shifts from pragmatic to starry-eyed rather deftly. Jennifer Nachazel (Ruby Tuesday) mixes eccentricity with eclat. She’s playful yet grounded. Julie Richardson (Bri McKay) looks out for her closest friend, protective but firm. Tony Magee (Dr. Ron Hook) is relaxed, thoughtful, intelligent. His own, unique interpretation. He doesn’t emulate Freud, Jung or Frasier.

Playwright Mike Byham has conceived a crackerjack comedy that explores important (perhaps crucial) questions about our shared and dubious humanity. The nature of the metaphysical and how we partake. Some of the best plays leave key questions unanswered. Agnes of God, The Rainmaker, The Man from Atlanta. If we yearn for the answer, we must decided for ourselves. Ruby Tuesday blurs the line between the fanciful and plausible. For those of you unfamiliar, there’s a legendary column wherein a little girl named Virginia writes to the Editor of The Sun. Her father tell her: If it’s in the Sun, it’s so. Virginia asks: Is there really a Santa Claus? The editor answers with detailed explanation. He exists if we believe he does. If we all agree, essentially, it’s true. We act on it. We celebrate it. Perhaps that’s all it takes. Ruby Tuesday is consummately entertaining. Tickling, intriguing, authentic.

The Core Theatre presents Mike Byham’s Ruby Tuesday, playing June 26th -July 19th, 2026. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas, 75080. thecoretheatre.org (214) 930-5338. james@corethetre.org

Curiousity and the Cat. Core Theatre’s Ruby Tuesday

 

Dr. Jamie Allen has a new patient. Ruby Tuesday was named by her ultra-cool hippie parents. Like her brother, she was adopted. She’s reluctantly agreed to see a psychologist because of an incident at work. Seems she climbed out on the ledge, to rescue a cat. Why would she do something so dangerous? That’s for Ruby to know, and Jamie to find out. Even though she insists on her reasoning, Dr. Jamie isn’t convinced. As he recovers bits and pieces, her story’s less and less plausible. And wouldn’t you know, Dr. Jamie goes gaga for Ruby. She may be loopy, but there’s something enchanting, other-worldly about her.

Dr. Ron Hook is Jamie’s mentor, counselor, and “dad”. Therapists seeking therapy from another therapist is not an uncommon. When Jamie confides he and Ruby have crossed an ethical boundary, Ron is understandably appalled. So is Ruby’s best friend, Bri. Both try to intervene, they’re not wrong. But Ruby and Jamie are smitten. In the midst of all this, Ruby has discovered she has an astonishing power. A secular miracle (if you will). It’s truly fantastic, but strains possibility.

Director James Prince has it nailed. The tone, the blocking, the timing. Unpredictable punchlines land quite nicely. Blackouts fall neither early nor late. Performances are amusing, compelling, and balanced. For his part, playwright Mike Byham, has written sophisticated, well-developed characters, without resorting to tropes. His dialogue feels natural rather than fabricated. The plot organic and effective. David Huner (Dr. Jamie Allen) shifts from pragmatic to starry-eyed rather deftly. Jennifer Nachazel (Ruby Tuesday) mixes eccentricity with eclat. She’s playful yet grounded. Julie Richardson (Bri McKay) looks out for her closest friend, protective but firm. Tony Magee (Dr. Ron Hook) is relaxed, thoughtful, intelligent. His own, unique interpretation. He doesn’t emulate Freud, Jung or Frasier.

Playwright Mike Byham has conceived a crackerjack comedy that explores important (perhaps crucial) questions about our shared and dubious humanity. The nature of the metaphysical and how we partake. Some of the best plays leave key questions unanswered. Agnes of God, The Rainmaker, The Man from Atlanta. If we yearn for the answer, we must decided for ourselves. Ruby Tuesday blurs the line between the fanciful and plausible. For those of you unfamiliar, there’s a legendary column wherein a little girl named Virginia writes to the Editor of The Sun. Her father tell her: If it’s in the Sun, it’s so. Virginia asks: Is there really a Santa Claus? The editor answers with detailed explanation. He exists if we believe he does. If we all agree, essentially, it’s true. We act on it. We celebrate it. Perhaps that’s all it takes. Ruby Tuesday is consummately entertaining. Tickling, intriguing, authentic.

The Core Theatre presents Mike Byham’s Ruby Tuesday, playing June 26th -July 19th, 2026. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas, 75080. thecoretheatre.org (214) 930-5338. james@corethetre.org

 

Curiosity and the Cat. Core Theatre’s Ruby Tuesday

Dr. Jamie Allen has a new patient. Ruby Tuesday was named by her ultra-cool hippie parents. Like her brother, she was adopted. She’s reluctantly agreed to see a psychologist because of an incident at work. Seems she climbed out on the ledge, to rescue a cat. Why would she do something so dangerous? That’s for Ruby to know, and Jamie to find out. Even though she insists on her reasoning, Dr. Jamie isn’t convinced. As he recovers bits and pieces, her story’s less and less plausible. And wouldn’t you know, Dr. Jamie goes gaga for Ruby. She may be loopy, but there’s something enchanting, other-worldly about her.

Dr. Ron Hook is Jamie’s mentor, counselor, and “dad”. Therapists seeking therapy from another therapist is not an uncommon. When Jamie confides he and Ruby have crossed an ethical boundary, Ron is understandably appalled. So is Ruby’s best friend, Bri. Both try to intervene, they’re not wrong. But Ruby and Jamie are smitten. In the midst of all this, Ruby has discovered she has an astonishing power. A secular miracle (if you will). It’s truly fantastic, but strains possibility.

Director James Prince has it nailed. The tone, the blocking, the timing. Unpredictable punchlines land quite nicely. Blackouts fall neither early nor late. Performances are amusing, compelling, and balanced. For his part, playwright Mike Byham, has written sophisticated, well-developed characters, without resorting to tropes. His dialogue feels natural rather than fabricated. The plot organic and effective. David Huner (Dr. Jamie Allen) shifts from pragmatic to starry-eyed rather deftly. Jennifer Nachazel (Ruby Tuesday) mixes eccentricity with eclat. She’s playful yet grounded. Julie Richardson (Bri McKay) looks out for her closest friend, protective but firm. Tony Magee (Dr. Ron Hook) is relaxed, thoughtful, intelligent. His own, unique interpretation. He doesn’t emulate Freud, Jung or Frasier.

Playwright Mike Byham has conceived a crackerjack comedy that explores important (perhaps crucial) questions about our shared and dubious humanity. The nature of the metaphysical and how we partake. Some of the best plays leave key questions unanswered. Agnes of God, The Rainmaker, The Man from Atlanta. If we yearn for the answer, we must decided for ourselves. Ruby Tuesday blurs the line between the fanciful and plausible. For those of you unfamiliar, there’s a legendary column wherein a little girl named Virginia writes to the Editor of The Sun. Her father tell her: If it’s in the Sun, it’s so. Virginia asks: Is there really a Santa Claus? The editor answers with detailed explanation. He exists if we believe he does. If we all agree, essentially, it’s true. We act on it. We celebrate it. Perhaps that’s all it takes. Ruby Tuesday is consummately entertaining. Tickling, intriguing, authentic.

The Core Theatre presents Mike Byham’s Ruby Tuesday, playing June 26th -July 19th, 2026.518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas, 75080. thecoretheatre.org (214) 930-5338. james@corethetre.org

 

Hey, hey, it’s a monkey! RTC’s snappy, convivial Kong’s Night Out.

 

Myron Siegel nervously waits for the straight dope on Carl Dennam’s latest attraction, kept closely under wraps. Seems both their shows overlap, and Myron is afraid of poaching. Family members are on hand, and Myron’s henchman, Little Willie. Myron’s borrowed money (5 figures) from his mother-in-law Sally, and she reminds him constantly. Daisy his niece, is visiting from a very chaste and devout Midwest Catholic community.

Kong’s Night Out uses familiar tropes of stage comedy. Injects them with a shot of verve, ingenuity, and chipper dialogue. It develops the characters and their back stories. They’re familiar, without caricature or stereotype. We don’t see the punchlines headed down Fifth Avenue, and they don’t come with a rimshot. Scenes don’t resolve in the way we expect. Neither does King Kong. It develops the characters and their back stories. They’re familiar, without caricature or stereotype.

There’s Ann Farrow: dishy, intelligent, platinum blonde, kidnapped and rescued and kidnapped again. Sally the raspy, cantankerous mother-in-law, who hides her compassion, really well. Myron the sweet producer who can’t catch a break. Carl the gleeful, equal opportunity schmuck. Daisy the ingenue who may be slow to catch up, but she’s not dense. Her comedy technique is positively acrobatic. Bertrille is the coniving, unfaithful wife. Her butter’s spread on both sides. Sig Higginbottom, the frisky Hungarian financier with the embarassing toupee. Jack Driskel is Ann’s devoted fiance. His generous spirit ignores danger and jeopardy. Little Willie is Myron’s go-to muscle. Pragmatic and personable. By and large the women come off better than the men. (Maybe that’s not so rare in comedy) They’re savvy, convivial, and resourceful.

The best theatre is like the Hubble. The closer you look the more you see. The title set’s the tone. Kong’s Night Out. Dapper yet absurd. Is Kong Equity? Is he invited to the after-party? Does he conceal an air of sophistication? We might be inclined to compare Carl Dennam with Kong, he sports a sharp suit, but who’s the bigger beast? At least Kong has tenderness for Ann Farrow. Carl is contemptuous of everybody. He swats dragonflies. He steals your lunch bag. He doesn’t silence his cellphone. He’s an arrogant misanthrope. He comes after Myron because he’s at the disadvantage. Because he can.

Rachael Lindley has landed this this 50 lb. fish without a care. Has a director ever gotten so much use from a sofa? Or a balcony? Or a powder room? Darlin, how do you do it? Brian Hoffman (Myron) Sue Goodner (Sally) Kendra Young (Daisy) Nathan Beeman (Little Willy) Emily Fry (Bertrille Siegel) Lloyd Webb (Higginbottom) Elise Stuart (Ann Farrow) Christopher Dean (Carl Dennam) Adam Koch (Jack Driskel) tuck into that dizzy energy like monkeys on a sugar bender. Kristin Moore’s costumes from debonair suits to the glamorous gowns bring the posh to the play. Greg Smith’s set design would put the Grand Budapest Hotel to shame.

So what are you waiting for, already?

Richardson Theatre Centre presents Jack Neary’s Kong’s Night Out from June 5th-28th, 2026. 518 W Arapaho Rd, Ste 113, Richardson, TX, 75080. (972) 699 1130

richardsontheatre@gmail.com facebook.com/RichardsonTheatreCenter

Hey! Hey! He’s a monkey. RCT’s snappy, convivial Kong’s Night Out.

Myron Siegel nervously waits for the straight dope on Sig Higginbottom’s latest attraction, kept closely under wraps. Seems both their shows overlap, and Myron is afraid of poaching. Family members are on hand, and Myron’s henchman, Little Willie. Myron’s borrowed money (5 figures) from his mother-in-law Sally, and she reminds him constantly. Daisy his niece, is visiting from a very chaste and devout Midwest Catholic community.

Kong’s Night Out uses familiar tropes of stage comedy. Injects them with a shot of verve, ingenuity, and chipper dialogue. It develops the characters and their back stories. They’re familiar, without caricature or stereotype. We don’t see the punchlines headed down Fifth Avenue, and they don’t come with a rimshot. Scenes don’t resolve in the way we expect. Neither does King Kong. It develops the characters and their back stories. They’re familiar, without caricature or stereotype.

There’s Ann Farrow: dishy, intelligent, platinum blonde, kidnapped and rescued and kidnapped again. Sally the raspy, cantankerous mother-in-law, who hides her compassion, really well. Myron the sweet producer who can’t catch a break. Sig the gleeful, equal opportunity schmuck. Daisy the ingenue who may be slow to catch up, but she’s not dense. Her comedy technique is positively acrobatic. Bertrille Siegel is the conniving, unfaithful wife.  Her bread’s buttered on both sides. Jack Driskel is Ann’s devoted fiance. His generous spirit ignores danger and jeopardy. Little Willie is Myron’s go-to muscle. Pragmatic and personable. By and large the women come off better than the men. (Maybe that’s not so rare in comedy) They’re savvy, convivial, and resourceful.

The best theatre is like the Hubble. The closer you look the more you see. The title sets the tone. Kong’s Night Out. Dapper yet absurd. Is Kong Equity? Is he invited to the after-party? Does he conceal an air of sophistication? We might be inclined to compare Higginbottom with Kong, he sports a sharp suit, but who’s the bigger beast? At least Kong has tenderness for Ann Farrow. Higginbottom is contemptuous of everybody. He swats dragonflies. He steals your lunch bag. He doesn’t silence his cellphone. He’s an arrogant misanthrope. He comes after Myron because he’s at the disadvantage. Because he can.

Rachael Lindley has landed this this 50 lb. fish without a care. Has a director ever gotten so much use from a sofa? Or a balcony? Or a powder room? Darlin, how do you do it? Brian Hoffman (Myron) Sue Goodner (Sally) Kendra Young (Daisy) Nathan Beeman (Little Willy) Emily Fry (Bertrille Siegel) Lloyd Webb (Higginbottom) Elise Stuart (Ann Farrow) Christopher Dean (Carl Dennam) Adam Koch (Jack Driskel) tuck into that dizzy energy like monkeys on a sugar bender. Kristin Moore’s costumes from debonair suits to the glamorous gowns bring the posh to the play. Greg Smith’s set design would put the Grand Budapest Hotel to shame.

So what are you waiting for, already?

Richardson Theatre Centre presents Jack Neary’s Kong’s Night Out from June 5th-28th, 2026. 518 W Arapaho Rd, Ste 113, Richardson, TX, 75080. (972) 699 1130

richardsontheatre@gmail.com facebook.com/RichardsonTheatreCenter