Month: December 2017

The film of Judith Guest’s novel, Ordinary People, was Robert Redford’s directorial debut, and quite impressive. Considering how many actors decide that they can also direct, it’s noteworthy that Redford handled the material with such skill and grace. Ordinary People was very, very popular, and the Oscars it earned by far more appropriate than say Kevin Costner’s Dances With Wolves, which felt very nice, but showed no grasp of the medium. All of this is to say that many, many people saw Ordinary People, so when Resolute Theatre Project recently staged Nancy Pahl Gisenan’s adaptation they were taking on a giant. Stage adaptations can be terribly lame, and if Resolute’s production did not pan out, a lot of folks would have been sorely disappointed.

Directed by Jason Leyva, Resolute’s staging was strong, understated, poignant. The melancholy journey Conrad Jarrett must take in finding some peace with his older brother’s death is depicted with eloquence and humanity. Conrad is in considerable pain, which he keeps to himself. Those who care want to help, but don’t really know how. Judith Guest took considerable risk in making Conrad’s father, Cal, the nurturer, and Beth, his mother, cold and detached. While father and son deepen their bond Beth seems to become progressively estranged. Conrad has already suffered the exigencies of a mental hospital and electroshock therapy, but cannot seem to move on.

Leyva and his cast capture the mood and tone of Ordinary People with precision and mastery. This is emotionally loaded material so (to quote the old adage) less is more, but the tension, the ache, the frustration, still comes through, resonates like a Holliday torch song or snow on a Sunday evening. Considering the pervasive presence of the film, Resolute has made this story completely their own. It’s a fresh angle on a story so many of us know. Gisenan’s take involves us in Conrad’s story, without feeling rehashed or derivative. The cast of Ordinary People was very strong and dedicated with kudos to Zachary Leyva, Dayna Fries, Danny Macchietto and Taylor Donnelson for especially lucid performances.

Due to time constraints, I was unable to post my review before Resolute’s production of Ordinary People ended. My apologies.

Lucia, a sweet-natured ingenue, first novel under her belt, has been hired on a team of writers for a television show. It’s a high-action (fairly unsophisticated) detective show, and the hero is Latina. Lucia definitely feels out of her depth. She knows nothing about scripts or working in television. She suspects she’s there for affirmative action. She doesn’t like the people she works with, and feels frightened, isolated and vulnerable. Then she makes friends with Abel, the only other Latinx she knows at the firm. Abel is a janitor, but while Lucia is frantic, impulsive and lacks confidence, he is older, savvy and takes everything in stride. At the outset their connection is a bit dubious, as they try to find common ground. Lucia is eager to make friends with Abel as she feels lost among so many Anglos. Is it narrow to assume they share a culture, simply because of descent? However we answer that question, Lucia’s relief in finding someone who cares and understands the same things, and (of course) speaks the same language, is palpable and considerable.

Much of Fade considers the contrast between Abel and Lucia. She is congenial and accessible, but clearly Abel perceives her upper middle class station as wealth. Easy to understand when more doors open for her. Lucia is genuine when she takes Abel into her confidence, comes to him when life gets overwhelming. They create a refuge in her office where they can nosh, drink beer and enjoy each other’s company, without worrying about breaking character in a world predominated by white people. Fade seems to beg a question, though, a crucial distinction. Does Lucia belong more to Anglos who have formal education and a level of prosperity closer to her own? Or Abel, who is very intelligent, with no discrepancy between who he actually is and how he behaves.

Several key events emerge that create turning points in Fade. [I guess this is where I may lapse into indiscreet revelations]. When Abel tells Lucia a secret, it’s nearly guaranteed that she will break her promise. When she kisses him impulsively (even though he graciously dismisses it) we can tell it upsets her more. When Gary, an office enemy, is taken down, she’s profoundly shaken, despite the fact that she’s done nothing unethical or aggressive. She’s upset with herself. When an event doesn’t add up, this is playwright Tanya Saracho’s cue to look beneath the surface. In each instance, it would be so much easier and better to let things go, and yet they seem to get under Lucia’s skin. To nudge her.

Saracho’s fable concerning assimilation, loyalty, and what is truly necessary to succeed, is nothing short of sublime. It’s a very touching narrative, and Lucia’s demeanor is so disarming and sincere, it’s easy to believe these two would become friends. Which is why the resolution is so much worse. Because we care for them both. Fade is different from numerous current shows: it gives us more than the bare bones required to fulfill a linear equation. It feels thorough (not minimal) but neither does any of it feel like scaffolding. And the betrayal, when it comes, does not play out as an explosion, but nearly invisibly. Questions are raised, but the catastrophic never acknowledged. Saracho has broken our hearts, with merciless, guileless finesse.

The Dallas Theater Center presents Fade, playing December 6^th, 2017 – January 7^th, 2018. ATTPAC: Wyly Studio Theatre, 2400 Flora Street, Dallas 75201. 214-526-8210. www.dallastheatercenter.org

Camp Death Productions specializes in spoofing movie genres: film noir, psycho-killer at the summer camp, dangerous dames do double duty as spies and supermodels. This kind of thing. As you might infer, Kevin Fuld’s Sleigh Hard With A Vengeance is a gleeful, absurd homage to the Die Hard franchise, built upon the Bruce Willis Ultracool Alpha paradigm. The first Die Hard (and perhaps the others) is set over the Christmas Holidays, and therefore ideal for holiday mirth.

Los Angeles Cop Mac Kane is visiting his estranged wife at the North Pole, where she holds a very prestigious position at Santa’s Toy “Shop”, in Human Resources. [I think.] Much to his dismay, he discovers a diabolical (yet erudite) villain, with a team of dedicated henchman, all set to break into Santa’s vault, regardless of the cost to human life. The local police captain is aggravated by his hot-dogging antics. His wife still loves him, despite her inability to ignore his insufferable personal flaws. There’s the international gathering of ne’er-do-wells and criminal gearheads (their vivid clothing doesn’t match their cartoony accents). Russian triplet assassins who wear kilts. One of the elves wears sunglasses and takes sexual harassment to a new low. Mrs. Santa Claus, kind and gentle, speaks very casually about sex, which is pretty icky.

Some of you may be acquainted with Andi Allen’s tribute to Santa Claus Vs. the Martians, often hailed as one of the worst films ever made. Allen’s comedy has played Dallas, during the Christmas season, with new dialogue added to keep it fresh. Over time it has become something of a cult favorite, and a big success. This hybrid genre (I often refer to as Garage Comedy) is marked by extremely humble production values, such as a car indicated by two chairs and sound effects. Like other genres it may seem like a formula, but that’s only because talented people make everything look easy. Consider the brilliance of Andy Kaufman’s Mighty Mouse number. Who else could have pulled that off? As for Garage Comedy, the deadpan delivery and celebrity imitation, ridiculous inconsistencies, the genre devices that seem inane outside of context; they don’t work if the chemistry’s off. And even the fairly good ones can be hit or miss. Comedy, through the ages, still continues to be more skill than science.

Kevin Fuld’s script is clever, it goes beyond a cursory grasp of the essential Die Hard structure. Some of the best routines are: the pointless way Kane rolls across the floor, the guy who shows just to clean up when there’s a corpse, the revelation the arch-villain loves My Little Pony. It’s hilarious when Kane directly addresses audience members, encouraging them to laugh, or the response when various characters are horrified to discover they’re actually handling sex beads. While all the gags, slapstick, mugging, hamming and madcap panic don’t necessarily connect, the instincts of Fuld, resourceful director Nathan D. Willard, and this playful, ingenious, versatile cast often save the moment, engaging their loopy, comic sensibilities. Fuld has a gift for whimsical, impulsive details that carry us to the sublime realm of Tickleville.

Featuring the talents of Joe Cucinotti, Lindi Wade, Jeny Siddall, Bill Otsott, Robert Shores, Daniel White, Robin Daffinee Coulonge, Ginger Goldman, Dylan Mobley, Israel Varela, Moises Abran Zamora, Sunny Bundy and Hallie Kathryn Davidson.

Camp Death Productions presents Sleigh Hard With A Vengeance. Show runs December 2-23, 2017.Margo Jones Theatre, 1121 1st Avenue, Dallas, TX 75210. 214-646-3114. http://sleighhard.brownpapertickets.com

My understanding is that Christmas, the actual birthdate of Jesus of Nazareth, was changed to December, all the better to eclipse pagan solstice celebrations. It should come as no surprise that there are numerous feasts, rituals, narratives and sacraments attached to the Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year, when the harvest is safely stored, and the earth itself hibernates under a blanket of snow. In the spirit of inclusiveness, Theatre 3 has constructed Solstice, a kind of revue, in which an ensemble invites our participation in the wonder of the supernatural, the pantheistic, the giddy world of sprites and sorcery, a kind of pastiche of various traditions intersecting in the strange magic that comes with the first frissons of winter. Rather than succumbing to the Western preoccupation with Judeo-Christian culture, Solstice suggests other kinds of worship. A different angle on the curious and endlessly enigmatic world around us.

Aunt Brighid is babysitting her niece when the electricity goes out, and they must light a candle to ward off the darkness. Conversation turns to the beguiling and intoxicating charms available to humanfolk only under the cover of darkness. The Girl asks her Auntie if they can explore this forbidden, irresistible realm, and Brighid concedes. But with the proviso that when stories are shared, lives intertwine, whether we want them to or not. They enter the forest where they encounter various non-human entities, all with their role to play in the balance between nature and cosmological imperatives. Since this journey is treated as enlightenment for the girl, Solstice is childlike, which may or may explain the use of puppetry. Puppets are certainly not exclusive to children’s theatre, but here it may have set the wrong tone.

Several anecdotes had the panache of the unexpected. An elderly couple still vibrant enough to make a picnic in the woods, where they could kiss and enjoy a buzz from hydrocodone. An Italian witch who must atone for snubbing her invitation to join The Three Magi. A frantic narrative from the protagonist of Poe’s The Telltale Heart, woven (rather perversely) with traditional Christmas Carols. Some of these endeavors manage better than others. Paulette and Stuart (perhaps in their winter years?) fall under the spell of stars and deep night, steeped in transgression and giddy, celebratory playtime.

Le Befana gets a lot of punch from Italian peasant shtick: “The gravy’s not going to stir itself.” A Poe Man’s Christmas Carol was something of a reach. The impulse to undercut the quaint and customary with the irreverent and mischievous is a sound one, but as a whole, Solstice didn’t altogether coalesce. Ironically, the epilogue in which the niece, left on her own, casts a spell from the serendipitous altar of her bed, was marvelously effective.

The idea behind T3’S Solstice was deliciously subversive, an attempt to recover ancient cultures and adoration tread upon by Christian imperialism. Perhaps to err on the side of caution, the spectacle feels deferential, considering we come to the theatre to partake of the unrevealed, the otherworldly, the less presentable. Hints at the realms beyond were pervasive, but perhaps too understated. That being said, there was lots of merriment and warmth. The gleeful and the bizarre. Wassail was served at the end of the first act, and it was clear the ensemble was there to give us a splendid, entertaining journey.

Theatre 3 presents: Solstice: Stories and Songs for the Holidays, November 24th-December 17^th, 2017. 2800 Routh Street, Suite 168, Dallas, Texas 75201-1417. 214-871-3300. theatre3dallas.com.

Casey is an Elvis impersonator who performs at a divey nightclub in Panama City, Florida. He is married to a very warm and devoted woman named Jo, and between the two of them, they barely have enough to pay the bills. Just ordering a pizza sends their finances into a tailspin. Nightclub owner Eddie is teetering on the verge of destitution himself. When his cousin Tracy shows up, revealing herself as a drag performer, he gives this new direction a whirl. When Miss Rexy (the other queen) passes out drunk, desperation drives Eddie to give Casey an ultimatum. Either do the Piaf number in a dress, or he’s fired. So begins Casey’s education as a drag performer, under the tutelage of Miss Tracy.

As we might guess, not only does Casey have a flare for drag, he actually warms up to it. Much as he enjoys playing Elvis, something about creating a female identity resonates with him. Tracy helps him with technique, finding his own persona, choosing the best numbers for his skill set. The pay is better than he ever imagined, but he doesn’t have the nerve to explain to his wife. When she shows up one evening unexpectedly, their recently carefree marriage is suddenly on the rails. When Jo leaves abruptly and Casey runs after her, Eddie, Tracy and Rexy all seem to feel betrayed, though they understand his urgent need to do damage control.

Playwright Matthew Lopez explores the world of drag performance and female impersonation with all the attitude, lingo, humor, and complex, exhilarating culture. We know that Casey is at least somewhat open-minded or he wouldn’t have married a woman of color. The Legend of Georgia McBride is a comedy in which our hero learns by happenstance that there’s something fulfilling about giving himself permission to express his most extravagant, “feminine” impulses. It actually makes him a better person. The fact that he enjoys drag doesn’t mean he wants other men, though that discovery here seems almost beside the point. It’s admirable that Lopez uses humor to reveal that drag isn’t really so foreign to male heterocentrist nature, and reimagines the straight nuclear family in the bargain. There were times when comprehension and gender anarchy didn’t seem to quite intersect, but we certainly gain a better understanding of the art, if the not the science.

The second salient aspect of Georgia McBride is the scintillating glitz and finery of transgender entertainment. Thanks to mad skills and fantabulous imaginations of Suzi Cranford (Costumes) and Coy Covington (Wigs and Makeup). What a rush to see so much glamour, bells and whistles, and what felt like an endless number of costume changes. The Legend of Georgia McBride is certainly a paean to the raucous, raunchy, genuine world of drag entertainment, and we’re given ample opportunity to revel in the brash, pulsing tunes and life-loving celebration.

Uptown Players presents The Legend of Georgia McBride. Playing December 1st-17th, 2017. Kalita Humphreys Theater, 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-219-2718. uptownplayers.org

Casey is an Elvis impersonator who performs at a divey nightclub in Panama City, Florida. He is married to a very warm and devoted woman named Jo, and between the two of them, they barely have enough to pay the bills. Just ordering a pizza sends their finances into a tailspin. Nightclub owner Eddie is teetering on the verge of destitution himself. When his cousin Tracy shows up, revealing herself as a drag performer, he gives this new direction a whirl. When Miss Rexy (the other queen) passes out drunk, desperation drives Eddie to give Casey an ultimatum. Either do the Piaf number in a dress, or he’s fired. So begins Casey’s education as a drag performer, under the tutelage of Miss Tracy.

As we might guess, not only does Casey have a flare for drag, he actually warms up to it. Much as he enjoys playing Elvis, something about creating a female identity resonates with him. Tracy helps him with technique, finding his own persona, choosing the best numbers for his skill set. The pay is better than he ever imagined, but he doesn’t have the nerve to explain to his wife. When she shows up one evening unexpectedly, their recently carefree marriage is suddenly on the rails. When Jo leaves abruptly and Casey runs after her, Eddie, Tracy and Rexy all seem to feel betrayed, though they understand his urgent need to do damage control.

Playwright Matthew Lopez explores the world of drag performance and female impersonation with all the attitude, lingo, humor, and complex, exhilarating culture. We know that Casey is at least somewhat open-minded or he wouldn’t have married a woman of color. The Legend of Georgia McBride is a comedy in which our hero learns by happenstance that there’s something fulfilling about giving himself permission to express his most extravagant, “feminine” impulses. It actually makes him a better person. The fact that he enjoys drag doesn’t mean he wants other men, though that discovery here seems almost beside the point. It’s admirable that Lopez uses humor to reveal that drag isn’t really so foreign to male heterocentrist nature, and reimagines the straight nuclear family in the bargain. There were times when comprehension and gender anarchy didn’t seem to quite intersect, but we certainly gain a better understanding of the art, if the not the science.

The second salient aspect of Georgia McBride is the scintillating glitz and finery of transgender entertainment. Thanks to mad skills and fantabulous imaginations of Suzi Cranford (Costumes) and Coy Covington (Wigs and Makeup). What a rush to see so much glamour, bells and whistles, and what felt like an endless number of costume changes. The Legend of Georgia McBride is certainly a paean to the raucous, raunchy, genuine world of drag entertainment, and we’re given ample opportunity to revel in the brash, pulsing tunes and life-loving celebration.

Uptown Players presents The Legend of Georgia McBride. Playing December 1st-17th, 2017. Kalita Humphreys Theater, 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-219-2718. uptownplayers.org

If we try to break down The Great Distance Home to its components: movement, music, dance, pantomime, few actual spoken words, it really does no justice; though a hybrid, a kind of performance art might begin to explain. Conceived and directed by Kelsey Leigh Ervi, The Great Distance Home establishes the Christmas milieu of urgency, the frantic rush to complete cooking, shopping, traveling and so on. Emerging from this whirlwind a birth is taking place. The mother goes into labor, the husband faints. Perhaps this intersects with another arrival and the celebration of Christmas, or more simply, the powerful association of Christmas and family. When the boy is born and the politics of connection arise, we grasp we’re participating in his travails and joys as time turns his essential clock. We see his low points and triumphs, his grief and gladness. We get a substantive feel for his attachments and how he moves through the world.

There is a brilliance, an ingeniousness to Distance Home. Currently there seems to be a trend towards creating a narrative from the bare bones of few props and objects, but here (lamps, chairs, ladder, ropes, hats…) the elements coalesce. It doesn’t feel gimmicky. There’s a lyricism, a sparse selection of detail that evokes like haiku. It’s an odd mix of the whimsical and wistful, the agonizing and droll. We see the young man strutting to impress a young lady, locking horns with his dad, aching to embrace his parents as he strikes out in this icy world. Distance Home creates its own, preverbal language of experience. It imbues particular moments with such implacable humanity, it overtakes before we realize we’ve been hooked. The sophistication is hidden, but its there.

Ervi and her nimble, intuitive ensemble have stirred up a powerful, exhilarating, fresh way of considering the Christmas Holidays, filled with emotion and trepidation. It’s truly a marvel to see how meticulously, lightly, they define the space and moment. It’s like an ongoing whirligig sequence by Rube Goldberg or a toy train that turns itself into a submarine, then a plane, then a bicycle. Sometimes these moving tableaux are witty, sometimes grim, sometimes sublime. It takes a special kind of bravery, a jazzy sense of confidence, a naked sense of savoring the kinetic, to summon an experience like The Great Distance Home. You just may leave intoxicated.

WaterTower Theatre presents The Great Distance Home. Playing December 1st-17th, 2017. 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas 75001972-450-6262. www.watertowertheatre.org.

It’s the fifth time around for A Very Nouveau Holiday, and what a glorious evening it will be. Pathos, absurdity, not-so-cuddly forest creatures, squabbling, romance and emotional dependency on modern technology. And that’s just in the lobby. Devoted to the idea that Christmas Shows needn’t be dull, derivative, repetitive, uninspired and sappy, A Very Nouveau Holiday was created to bring hilarious, beguiling, quirky, unorthodox and fresh viewpoints to the holidays and how we strive to honor caring and kindness in our hearts. At this point I should mention that I am one of the Eight Playwrights being featured, and while the following will certainly not be a puff piece neither will it be a review.

As we have come to expect from Nouveau 47 (at the Margo Jones Black Box at Fair Park) nothing is sacred, off-limits, traditional or precious. Plots explored include Say Cheese (family portrait takes contentious turn) PSA (Public Service Announcement with Abraham Lincoln, the Blessed Virgin and Santa) Langdon, The Seasonal Barista (grizzly bear hired at Starbucks) Gift of the Maggies (two inmates exchange gifts) Mr. Crispy (man who can’t stop re-living the worst decision of his life) Downeaster Alexa (our reliance on technology for emotional comfort) and Radio Flyer (despondent writer moonlights as Santa).

Playwrights from all over (some as far as Neptune) submitted their short plays, and for the modest price of a ticket, you can partake of these excursions into the unknown realm of Christmas contemplation. A splendid, nimble, outrageously talented gang of actors has been cast and recast and cross-cast in eight different shows, thoroughly testing their wicked-mad skills as performers. Fret not, as a carefully chosen regimen of calisthenics, fierce indoctrination and controlled substances has been applied to guarantee a flawless (if somewhat frantic) result. In all seriousness, each piece brings its own unique angle on the holiday season, surely a time that is fraught with stress, expectations, delight, dread, chaos and sorrow. We sincerely believe you will be amused, engaged, overwhelmed, challenged and comforted. “Oh, the places you’ll go.”

The Actors: Monalisa Amidar, JR Bradford, Cameron Casey, Emily Faith, Robert Long, Chris Messersmith, Charles Themayor Ratcliff, and Jerome Stein.

The Directors: Andra Hunter, Becki McDonald, Brad McEntire, David Meglino.

The Playwrights: Franky Gonzalez, Allison Hibbs, Jonathan Kravetz, Jim Kuenzer, Brad McEntire, Ben Schroth, Greg Silva, and Christopher Stephen Soden.

Nouveau 47 (at the Margo Jones Black Box at Fair Park) presents: A Very Nouveau Holiday 2017, playing December 8th-23rd, 2017. Mondays, Fridays, and Sundays: 8:15. Saturdays 2-6PM. 1121 1st Ave, Dallas, Texas 75210. www.margojonestheatre.org. https://nouveauholiday.brownpapertickets.com/

Sara and Sam are brother and sister, and we first find them in a cemetery, not long after their Dad’s funeral. They are detached from the emotion of the occasion, though not above self-medicating. They go to one of Dad’s favorite watering holes and Sara winds up going home with Joe (a regular at the bar) and spending the night. The next morning she encounters Joe’s teenage son, Miles, who is quite smitten with her. Later she returns to Joe’s apartment to look for a lost watch, where Miles uses the excuse to make a pass. On her third visit to the cemetery, Sara finds Anna, who left brother Sam to started dating the father.

As you might guess, playwright Ellen Fairey uses the title Graceland metaphorically, perhaps because the father is popular but nobody really knows him (like Elvis?) or maybe it has something to do with the quirky nature of grace. Each of the characters is broken, or a fringe dweller, in one way or another. Sara sells kitchen knives in a shopping mall. Joe is not exactly dashing, but he’s got game when it comes to the ladies. Miles seems hopelessly strange, at an age when assimilating is crucial to kids. An interesting detail of Fairey’s narrative is the advantage of being unsuccessful. If Joe were crushing it as an alpha, he might lack the empathy to help Miles figure out dating. If Sara were pulling a six-figure salary, she might not be so understanding when Miles impulsively kisses her. The characters are kinder than society’s idea of winning would permit them to be. They are not too proud to admit they’re groping for answers and more than a little lost. They have been spared the insufferable quality of arrogance.

It seems in the recent past, a kind of hybrid genre has emerged in contemporary theatre. Perhaps it’s an offshoot of Rabe or Mamet, with barely white collar folks who are drifting, without much sense of purpose. On the whole, the content is too funny (or at least ironic) to be drama and too sad to be comedy. The characters in Graceland are trying their best. But the triggering event of death nudges them to wonder how well anybody knows anybody, and what are they doing, other than treading water. Beneath the bleak yet comical surface, malaise seeps through. We don’t get the tango between despair and hilarity we might find in say, Broadway Bound or House of Blue Leaves. That being said, Graceland has a supple, magnanimous quality to it, understated thought it may be. By the final curtain, they may not have left behind the gutter of inertia, but they are still looking at the stars.

L.I.P. Service presented Graceland from November 2nd-18th, 2017. 2535 Valley View Lane, Farmers Branch, Texas 75234. www.lipserviceproductions.info. 817-689-6461.7 68817 689 6461 9 6461