Sharp Critic : Christopher Soden

 

Macbeth is a robust, valiant general in line to be king. His immediate predecessor is Duncan. He carries this promise with aplomb. He and friend Banquo encounter the notorious “weird sisters” who tantalize them with snippets of prophesy. Like most oracles they tell you a lot, but never enough. They love contradictions. Macbeth will be happy, but Banquo happier. Banquo will sire kings, but it’s not in the cards for him. Macbeth will be king. But he knew that. We don’t know exactly what was in the letters he wrote to Lady Macbeth, but he might want to rush the coronation. Which hits Lady Macbeth like a thunderbolt. With a nudge from the witches, it’s clear, they don’t need to wait. Duncan is a dear friend, and he will be murdered under Macbeth’s roof, but these are only details. Thereafter his close friends will be mere obstacles to his ascent.

A thematic thread weaves throughout this tragedy. When Macbeth and Banquo first encounter the witches, Banquo says in effect: you act like women but you don’t look like them. Until then, Macbeth was content to let nature take its course. But now he’s got the itch. Before Macbeth arrives, Lady Macbeth invokes the spirits: Unsex me here, she commands, forfeiting kindness and mercy for expediency. When Macbeth gets cold feet she digs in hard, disparaging his manhood, his integrity, his courage. He’s convinced, for the moment, but folds at the crucial hour. She must assassinate Duncan and his queen for the both of them. She keeps the spark going. Does Macbeth succumb to the witches and his wife? Certainly Macbeth has agency, but then how do women find leverage (for good or ill) when loftier channels are denied?

Shakespeare’s men must endure their own torment. Subjected to catastrophic, devastating circumstances, they must choose between going to pieces or shutting down. When Macduff discovers his wife and children are dead, Malcolm exhorts him: Dispute it like a man. Macduff responds: I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man. As he does in numerous plays, Shakespeare fractures reductive identity. Refuses to separate gender from humanity. Why is grief unseemly for a man? Defiance inappropriate for women?

Director Joey Folsom takes an ingenious spin on Macbeth. Unorthodox and compelling choices. The three weird sisters are clothed as mourners, in black dresses and veils, obscuring their faces. They infiltrate a number of scenes, invisible to other characters, but most decidedly there. Some characters feel androgynous, in the spirit gender-fluidity perhaps? So many productions of Macbeth feel hurried and connecting scenes cursory. Folsom lingers on these key moments, giving us time to appreciate each character, to grasp the pivot. Folsom’s interpretation is surprising. Intriguing. He doesn’t give the script short shrift. He rejects the bombastic and histrionic for quiet, unending grief. The abyss of despair.

The Contemporary Theatre Project presents Macbeth, playing October 9^th, 2026 through Halloween. The Core Theatre. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 923-3619 theclassicstheatreproject.com. tctpdfw@gmail.com

 

Macbeth is a robust, valiant general in line to be king. His immediate predecessor is Duncan. He carries this promise with aplomb. He and friend Banquo encounter the notorious “weird sisters” who tantalize them with snippets of prophesy. Like most oracles they tell you a lot, but never enough. They love contradictions. Macbeth will be happy, but Banquo happier. Banquo will sire kings, but it’s not in the cards for him. Macbeth will be king. But he knew that.

We don’t know exactly what was in the letters he wrote to Lady Macbeth, but he might want to rush the coronation. Which hits Lady Macbeth like a thunderbolt. With a nudge from the witches, it’s clear, they don’t need to wait. Duncan is a dear friend, and he will be murdered under Macbeth’s roof, but these are only details. Thereafter his close friends will be mere obstacles to his ascent.

A thematic thread weaves throughout this tragedy. When Macbeth and Banquo first encounter the witches, Banquo says in effect: you act like women but you don’t look like them. Until then, Macbeth was content to let nature take its course. But now he’s got the itch. Before Macbeth arrives, Lady Macbeth invokes the spirits: Unsex me here, she commands, forfeiting kindness and mercy for expediency.

When Macbeth gets cold feet she digs in hard, disparaging his manhood, his integrity, his courage. He’s convinced, for the moment, but folds at the crucial hour. She must assassinate Duncan and his queen for the both of them. She keeps the spark going. Shakespeare raises the same questions over and again. Does Macbeth just succumb to the witches and his wife? The spellcasters infiltrate a number of scenes, invisible to other characters, but most decidedly there. Certainly Macbeth has agency, but then how do women find leverage (for good or ill) when loftier channels are denied?

Shakespeare’s men must endure their own torment. Subjected to catastrophic, devastating circumstances, they must choose between going to pieces or shutting down. When Macduff discovers his wife and children are dead, Malcolm exhorts him: Dispute it like a man. Macduff responds: I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man. As he does in numerous plays, Shakespeare fractures reductive identity. Refuses to separate gender from humanity. Why is grief unseemly for a man? Defiance inappropriate for women?

Director Joey Folsom takes an ingenious spin on Macbeth. Unorthodox and compelling choices. The three weird sisters are clothed as mourners, in black dresses and veils, obscuring their faces. Some characters feel androgynous, in the spirit gender-fluidity perhaps? So many productions of Macbeth feel hurried and connecting scenes cursory. Folsom lingers on these key moments, giving us time to appreciate each character, to grasp the pivot. Folsom’s interpretation is surprising. Intriguing. He doesn’t give the script short shrift. He rejects the bombastic and histrionic for quiet, unending grief. The abyss of despair.

The Contemporary Theatre Project presents Macbeth, playing October 9^th, 2026 through Halloween. The Core Theatre. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 923-3619 theclassicstheatreproject.com. tctpdfw@gmail.com

Book of Will opens in a pub and regular hangout for John, Henry, Alice and Richard, all close friends of William Shakespeare. They reminisce, fondly and somewhat somberly. How profoundly their lives coalesced. Rebecca is married to John, Elizabeth to Henry. Both cheerfully long-suffering and spirited. This lovely cluster of friends, wedded to the theatre, are always frank and forthcoming. Tact is a mystery they have yet to solve.

When one of them is taken by sudden death, they galvanize their resolve to collect Will’s prodigious oeuvre. It turns out that his plays have (more or less) scattered to the four winds. It’s a grueling, exhausting task. But our heroes are struck by the urgency of salvaging their friend’s vivid, resonant, implacable shows. His scripts took them to realms beyond imagining. Actor and audience alike were overcome by epiphanies. Epiphanies we all know, but hadn’t heard spoken aloud before. Deeply understood but never evoked.

There was a time when two books could be found in every British household. One was the King James Bible. The other was The Collected Works of Shakespeare. When I was five, my Grandpa would often teach me adages like: “Neither a borrower, nor a lender be”. It wasn’t until much later, I realized he was quoting Hamlet. And how often since, do people quote Shakespeare without knowing it?

Language is a living construct that absorbs the reason and articulation of culture as it evolves. In much the same way, Lauren Gunderson enacts the steps that suffused Shakespeare’s cunning from one person to the next. We see how lines found their way into everyday conversation. Swimming through the river where we all drink. She demonstrates the transformative power of his diction. No one was immune. Gunderson elevates a miracle we take for granted to its true splendor.

I was overcome Chris Berthelot’s direction. His deft arrangement of elements. The agile and intuitive performers. Their poise and commitment. Their animated dialogue and saucy demeanor. Eric Levy’s Richard Burbage is world -weary, and personable. Robert Dullnig’s sardonic, resigned, Ben Johnson tickled the audience without mercy. Janae Hatchett’s convivial Alice Heminges navigates the tavern with confident aplomb. Robert San Juan’s Henry Condell is brash and versatile. Ivy Opdykes’s Rebecca Heminges is smart, gentle and accommodating, Gena Graham’s Elizabeth Condell, sensual and good humored.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Anthony Magee’s turn in Book of Will. His authenticity, dedication to the actual, depth of empathy with John Heminges is rare and overwhelming. We see John in all his gentle tenderness, his discouragement, his pique. His unbearable despair.

Do yourself a favor. Bear witness to this touching, buoyant, stirring production. Don’t miss ACT’s Book of Will!

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents Book of Will playing (Fridays and Saturdays) October 2nd-18th, 2026. 1210 East main Street, #300, Allen, Texas 75002. pr@allencontemporarytheatre.net

Book of Will opens in a pub and regular hangout for John, Henry, Alice and Richard, all close friends of William Shakespeare. They reminisce, fondly and somewhat somberly. How profoundly their lives coalesced. Rebecca is married to John, Elizabeth to Henry. Both cheerfully long-suffering and spirited. This lovely cluster of friends, wedded to the theatre, are always frank and forthcoming. Tact is a mystery they have yet to solve.

When one of them is taken by sudden death, they galvanize their resolve to collect Will’s prodigious oeuvre. It turns out that his plays and sonnets have (more or less) scattered to the four winds. It’s a grueling, exhausting task. But our heroes are struck by the urgency of salvaging their friend’s vivid, resonant, implacable shows. His scripts took them to realms beyond imagining. Actor and audience alike were overcome by epiphanies. Epiphanies we all know, but hadn’t heard spoken aloud before. Deeply understood but never evoked.

There was a time when only two books could be found in British homes. One was the King James Bible. The other was The Collected Works of Shakespeare. When I was five, my Grandpa would often teach me adages like: “Neither a borrower, nor a lender be,” or “A penny saved is a penny earned.” It wasn’t until much later, I realized he was quoting Hamlet. And how often since, do people quote Shakespeare without knowing it?

Language is a living construct that absorbs the reason and articulation of culture as it evolves. In much the same way, Lauren Gunderson enacts the steps that suffused Shakespeare’s cunning from one person to the next. We see how lines found their way into everyday conversation. Swimming through the river where we all drink. She demonstrates the transformative power of his diction. No one was immune. Gunderson elevates a miracle we take for granted to its true splendor.

I was overcome Chris Berthelot’s direction. His deft arrangement of elements. The agile and intuitive performers. Their poise and commitment. Their animated dialogue and saucy demeanor. Eric Levy’s Richard Burbage is jejeune, and personable. Robert Dullnig’s sardonic, resigned, Ben Johnson tickled the audience without mercy. Janae Hatchett’s convivial Alice Heminges navigates the tavern with confident aplomb. Robert San Juan’s Henry Condell is brash and versatile. Ivy Updykes’s Rebecca Heminges is smart, gentle and accommodating, Gena Graham’s Elizabeth Condell, sensual and good humored.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Anthony Magee’s turn in Book of Will. His authenticity, dedication to the actual, depth of empathy with John Heminges is rare and overwhelming. We see John in all his gentle tenderness, his weariness, his pique. His unbearable despair.

Do yourself a favor. Bear witness to this touching, buoyant, stirring production. Don’t miss ACT’s Book of Will!

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents Book of Will playing (Fridays and Saturdays) October 2nd-18th, 2026. 1210 East main Street, #300, Allen, Texas 75002. pr@allencontemporarytheatre.net

Daisy lives with her older sister Doris, and her sister’s husband. They share a small, isolated house in a Texas town, in 1928. Daisy is what you’d call a ringtailed tooter. Though not exactly playful. She’s tall, dresses with sleek aplomb, congenial and charming one moment, strident the next. Daisy had taken some tough blows. Her deceased husband was promiscuous. In a moment of cosmic retribution, his mistress shot him dead, leaving Daisy with miserable feelings of betrayal, rage and hopelessness. Strangely enough, this ugly turn takes Daisy to her husband’s funeral, where catches the eye of one Garland Steinholden. In an act of spontaneous defiance, she grabs a yellow rose from the coffin, placing it behind her ear. In a word, Garland is smitten.

Ellsworth Schave’s Texas Romance (like the best comedies) gives us the pleasure of amusement with genuine moments of despair. He has a keen sense of Texas culture, somber and resigned. Giddy and rambunctious. His feel for Texas natives is accurate and nuanced. Daisy, Doris and Garland are not the familiar caricatures we’ve been subjected to. Like Horton Foote or Larry MacMurtry, his characters are complicated and intriguing. Schave’s written them against type. Doris is the over-protective scold, but she really doesn’t want to be. Garland is solicitous (not submissive) and patient. Daisy is gorgeous and plainspoken, even flirtatious, but never dainty. She might be Edna Ferber’s Leslie Benedict from Giant, or Katherine from Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew.

Director Janette Oswald brings her comprehensive, pitch perfect experience to this difficult yet engaging piece. Oswald sorts the timing, the pathos, the smart humor. She brings the tonal shifts, the quirkiness, the unique flavor of this surprising narrative. Kendra Young (Daisy) wields beguiling presence to the stage, flouncy and turbulent. Devin Hite (Garland) brings gentle class, and nobility to a character who never mistakes piety for virtue. Laura Jennings (Doris) is truly phenomenal. She balances the stern older sister with warmth and vulnerability.

Rover Dramawerks presents: Texas Romance, playing from September 10th-26th, 2026. 972-849-0358. 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas 75074. roverdramawerks.com

Cox Playhouse

Daisy lives with her older sister Doris, and her sister’s husband. They share a smallish, isolated, pretty house, in a Texas town, in 1928. Daisy is what you’d call a ringtailed tooter. Though not exactly playful. She’s tall, dresses with sleek aplomb, congenial and charming one moment, strident the next. Daisy had taken some tough blows. Her deceased husband was promiscuous. In a moment of cosmic retribution, his mistress shot him dead, leaving Daisy with miserable feelings of betrayal, rage and hopelessness. Strangely enough, this ugly turn takes Daisy to her husband’s funeral, where catches the eye of one Garland Steinholden. In an act of spontaneous defiance, she grabs a yellow rose from the coffin, placing it behind her ear. In a word, Garland is smitten.

Ellsworth Schave’s Texas Romance (like the best comedies) gives us the pleasure of amusement with genuine moments of despair. He has a keen sense of Texas culture, somber and resigned. Giddy and rambunctious. His feel for Texas natives is accurate and nuanced. Daisy, Doris and Garland are not the familiar caricatures we’ve been subjected to. Like Horton Foote or Larry MacMurtry, his characters are complicated and intriguing. Schave’s written them against type. Doris is the over-protective scold, but she really doesn’t want to be. Garland is solicitous (not submissive) and patient. Daisy is gorgeous and plainspoken, even flirtatious, but never dainty. She might be Edna Ferber’s Leslie Benedict from Giant, or Katherine from Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew.

Director Janette Oswald brings her comprehensive, pitch perfect experience to this difficult yet engaging piece. Oswald sorts the timing, the pathos, the smart humor. She brings the tonal shifts, the quirkiness, the unique flavor of this surprising narrative. Kendra Young (Daisy) wields beguiling presence to the stage, flouncy and turbulent. Devin Hite (Garland) brings gentle class, and nobility to a character who never mistakes piety for virtue. Laura Jennings (Doris) is charming. At first she suggests a Sunday School Teacher, but we come to see her warmth and vulnerability.

Rover Dramawerks presents: Texas Romance, playing from September 10th-26th, 2026. 972-849-0358. 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas 75074. roverdramawerks.com

Cox Playhouse

 

Daisy lives with her older sister Doris, and her sister’s husband. They share a smallish, isolated, pretty house, in a Texas town, in 1928. Daisy is what you’d call a ringtailed tooter. Though not exactly playful. She’s tall, dresses with sleek aplomb, congenial and charming one moment, strident the next.

Daisy had taken some tough blows. Her deceased husband was promiscuous. In a moment of cosmic retribution, his mistress shot him dead, leaving Daisy with miserable feelings of betrayal, rage and hopelessness. Strangely enough, this ugly turn takes Daisy to her husband’s funeral, where catches the eye of one Garland Steinholden. In an act of spontaneous defiance, she grabs a yellow rose from the coffin, placing it behind her ear. In a word, Garland is smitten.

Ellsworth Schave’s Texas Romance (like the best comedies) gives us the pleasure of amusement with genuine moments of despair. He has a keen sense of Texas culture, somber and resigned. Giddy and rambunctious. His feel for Texas natives is accurate and insightful.

Daisy, Doris and Garland are not the familiar caricatures we’ve been subjected to. Like Horton Foote or Larry MacMurtry, his characters are complicated and intriguing. Schave’s written them against type. Doris is the over-protective scold, but she really doesn’t want to be. Garland is solicitous (not submissive) and patient. Daisy is gorgeous and plainspoken, even flirtatious, but never dainty. She might be Edna Ferber’s Leslie Benedict from Giant, or Katherine from Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew.

Director Janette Oswald brings her comprehensive, pitch perfect experience to this difficult yet engaging piece. Oswald sorts the timing, the pathos, the smart humor. She brings the tonal shifts, the quirkiness, the unique flavor of this surprising narrative. Kendra Young (Daisy) wields beguiling presence to the stage, flouncy and turbulent. Devin Hite (Garland) brings gentle class, and nobility to a character who never mistakes piety for virtue. Laura Jennings (Doris) is charming. At first she suggests a Sunday School Teacher, but we come to see her warmth and vulnerability.

Rover Dramawerks presents: Texas Romance, playing from September 10th-26th, 2026. 972-849-0358. 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas 75074. roverdramawerks.com

Cox Playhouse

Your Show of Shows forever shines in the canon of television comedy. From 1950 to 1954 this ingenious, sharp variety show featured Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca, et al, in sketches, inspired and silly. When you have writers at the top of their game (Woody Allen, Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner, Neil Simon, to name a few) preposterous works just fine.  For more than 40 years Saturday Night Live has been thriving. It’s easy when nothing else is airing. Gilbert Gottfried observed that: “…it’s not a matter of bad or good, but which restaurant has the best view.”  By comparison the 4 year run of Your Show of Shows was criminal.

Max Prince (Alex Eding) is the frantic, tempestous star of the TV show. Lucas (Owen Wildoner) is the narrator and new hire. He embraces apprenticeship with conviviality and grace. The writers include Milt, Val, Brian, Kenny, Carol and Helen, the only women on staff. Milt (Brian Hoffman) is the raffish class clown, always on, cracking wise no matter how insensitive. Val (Eddy Herring) is the long-suffering, pious head of the team, and a favorite target of Milt. Brian (Joe Barr) always has a pending deal with Hollywood. Ira (Kenneth Fulenwilder) arrives late, each day,with a new, potentially fatal ailment. Kenny’s (Christian Black)  not as bombastic as the others, but his dry wit delivers. Carol (Molly Bowers) is the only woman at this playground. It’s a lonely struggle, but she’s welcome and respected, and persists. Helen (Hanna Mancuso) is the front desk assistant, running interference and keeping track of the crazy-making demands.

Laughter on the 23^rd Floor begins in the 3rd year, when the suits upstairs are wavering on budget, timeslots and payroll. The writers possess a keen sense of chemistry and timing, when it comes to punchlines and a fine sense of the ridiculous. Each brings their particular gift to the script, when they’re not digressing. Seems these professionals love to aim potshots at each other. The atmosphere is boisterous and edgy. Playwright Neil Simon has no problem with material that’s disparaging, crass, tone-deaf and gobsmacking. One delight of Laughter on the 23^rd Floor is its resistance to loftiness and propriety. Intelligent without being pretentious. There’s genuine pathos, there’s rumination and reflection crucial to Simon’s structure and upshot.

Director Leigh Wyatt Moore met this frantic juggling act, this zoo on wheels, with panache and sophistication. As many of you know, comedies are far more difficult, more challenging than drama. The mood-swings, the double-takes, the spitshots, the grotesquely tasteless hilarity. It must be like staving off tigers with a slingshot. Yet Moore carries it off beautifully, without a hitch. The performers fit together with familiarity, inhabiting roles comfortably. They are dedicated, nimble, intuitive. We’re invited to their boisterous, deadpan conflagration, and you’ll be glad you came.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents: Laughter On the 23^rd Floor, playing August 14-30^th, 2026. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX, United States, 75002. (844) 822-8849 allencontemporarytheatre.net

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

 

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