Month: August 2022

Upon entering the theater, we need only see the columns, and draped translucent silk upstage, to realize we’re in the realm of Tennessee Williams’ gothic fantasia. His blend of  decadence and lyricism. The Classic Theatre Project’s current production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, comes from a place of respect, but not awe. Certainly Cat lambastes the duplicity connecting  civility and actuality; conformity and defiance. Williams revels in the tawdriness of Brick and Maggie’s predicament. They’re both so gorgeous, they should be together.  But Brick can only bear to live with his wife by staying drunk. Brick is patriarch Big Daddy’s favorite. But since older brother Gooper and Mae are spawning like salmon, they’re next to inherit. Succession all that matters.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof  is set in Brick and Maggie’s bedroom. Brick’s leg is broken, his hair still wet from the shower. He’s wearing pyjamas, moving on crutches, and tying one on. He barely acknowledges Maggie’s account of Mae and Gooper’s obnoxious tribe of “kiddies”, a trashy incident at a parade, her father-in-law ogling her at supper. Maggie has left Big Daddy’s birthday party to change her dress. The celebration will move to their room, as Brick’s cast makes mobility difficult. Big Mama interrogates Maggie during Brick’s brief disappearance. She wants to know why they are childless.

Once the guests have migrated, Big Daddy roars and whoops it up, full of piss and vinegar. They’ve just discovered his cancer prognosis is negative, so he’s feeling rowdy. It takes him awhile to notice the estrangement between his younger son and his wife. Behind his cantankerous exterior, it troubles him to see Brick in such pain. When he confronts Brick about his alcoholism, he pushes Big Daddy away, owing him no explanations. The ghost of a friendship that ended horribly, between Brick and his buddy Skipper arises.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof might be seen as Tennessee Williams’ sardonic take on heterocentrist culture, and the virulent, demanding code of male behavior. Fertility and progeny are ruthlessly mocked. Brick and Maggie have been relegated to the bedroom shared by Jack Straw and Peter Ochello : the lovers and original owners of the plantation. Maggie is a climber, and Big Mama a buffoon. Big Daddy is a vindictive, grotesque caricature of male libido, his shameless bestiality its own justification. He despises Big Mama, his wife of 40 years, who adores him. Brick is on the other side of this contentious virility. He’s quiet, flawlessly athletic, keeping his rage on ice.

TCTP‘s Cat is fierce, relentless, overwhelming. They’ve turned a difficult script into a lightning rod. Williams requires much of his actors. Lines like: “I even loved your hate,” and “What is the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof?” verge on melodrama. Director Susan Sargeant sparks vital performances from her cast. She makes intriguing choices. The way Maggie intuitively, provocatively lies across the bed. The male children mentioned but never seen. The way Gooper’s voluminous wife looks ready to pop. Olivia Cinqueplami walks a tightrope between frantic conversation and casual seductiveness. She’s heartbreaking and profoundly affecting. Joey Folsom is cool and detached, but grief comes unmistakably through the high octane buzz. The flame may be teetering, but it’s there. Terry Martin is a formidable, intimidating Big Daddy. Lulu Ward as the fragile, yet boisterous Big Mama is splendid. The best I’ve ever seen in that role.

The Classics Theatre Project presents Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, playing through September 11^th, 2022. Water Tower Theatre (black box) 15650 Addison Road, Addison Texas 75001. 972-450-6232. www.watertowertheatre.org

 

It’s opening night of a new play by neophyte Peter Sloan. Peter is a truck driver, who answered the burning call to write, pounding at his typewriter whenever he got the chance. Sydney Black, the producer is there. Preeminent playwright Owen Turner is present, and Irene Livingston, the lofty, fey, leading actress, and her salty mother, Stella. Sydney’s wife Frances (an ice skating star) and Stella enjoy a perpetual game of gin. Director, Carleton Fitzgerald is in attendance and Tyler Rayburn, Irene’s husband et al. The stakes of Peter’s untried drama are so jarring, everyone’s on edge. Feelings are raw and running high.

When Peter’s script reached Sydney’s eyes, it was a mind-boggling epiphany, a revelation in his jaded career as a theatre producer. Everyone gathered for this occasion is a bit jittery, considering Sydney has sunk $300,000 into the production. The show has proceeded under solemn circumstances. No visitors, not even for the dress rehearsal. They realize the script is unorthodox, but premieres are not easy to call. They’re all hoping for the best, riding the crest of cautious optimism. Being more seasoned, Owen, Stella, and Sydney are more apprehensive; the ladies not altogether impressed. They all share the traditional opening night toast, with erudition and gusto. When they all leave for the curtain, they’re prepared for greatness, or whatever else might come driving down the pike.

Authored by playwright Moss Hart (of Kaufman and Hart) Light Up the Sky is a snappy, rich, convivial comedy, with moments of pathos. Hart has achieved nearly the impossible, a sardonic, authentic, wiseass valentine to theatre folk. Hart pulls no punches as characters run the spectrum from pretension to grace. From wide-eyed naivete to instinctive cynicism. He dresses kindness in the togs of cantankerousness. Hart has a gift for depicting characters with detail and affection, however subtle and unspoken. We can smile (and roll our eyes) at Irene’s ooey-gooey effusiveness, but appreciate the warmth we’re often embarrassed to articulate. In some ways her mother, Stella, is a buzzkill (she has some of the best lines) but a break from so much self-congratulation can be a relief. Owen may seem reserved in his enthusiasm, but in the end, he provides an anchor for all the lunacy. Hart creates a blissfully entertaining story, with depth, cunning and a flawless ear for timing.

Director Carol Rice has succeeded impressively with a script that must be a logistical nightmare. So many characters piloted through entrances and exits, interpretation and tone, blocking and cues. Rice has done spectacular justice to Hart’s meticulous balance of attitude and content. What could be more sublime than time spent with these intelligent, limber, spirited performers? Rice must have thought long and carefully to assemble this intrepid cast. She’s gifted us with her impeccable skill, vision and chops.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents Light up the Sky, playing August 19th- September 4^th, 2022. 844-822-8849. 1210 East Main Street # 300, Allen, Texas 75002. www.allencontemporarytheatre.net

Julia is the backbone of her family: Father, Baby, Millie, and Ruth, their mother. Millie no longer lives under that roof. Baby is still in High School. Their dad is an alcoholic. We never see him. Mama is chronically ill with fibromyalgia. Julia is dating an older man, Nene. They have known each other since childhood. Nene wants Julia to marry him, but she bears the brunt of keeping them all afloat. She cannot bring herself to abandon her family. As Curse of the Puerto Ricans opens, they have gathered for the Christmas holidays.

In some ways Julia is trapped. She’s the only one willing to get anything done. The only one with a job. Sister Millie left some time ago, to pursue a career. Baby only complains when asked to pitch in. Ruth ignores even small tasks, such as making sure the bills are paid, cooking, dealing with their dad. Julia wants a life of her own, but cannot bring herself to start a life with Nene. He observes as long as she makes excuses, they’ll never step up and help out. Millie had to leave when she could, if she had any hope at happiness.

In a crushing turn of events, Papa dies just before Christmas. The funeral occurs on Christmas Eve Day, and Ruth is in a foul mood. Nene shows up impetuously, proposing to Julia with everyone there. He even sweeps her up to dance. But she refuses to answer, when he put her on the spot. Mama has no use for Nene, or any guy that might take Julia away. Julia, Baby, Millie and Ruth sit at the kitchen table, drinking some “Holiday Cheer”. They do their best to cultivate the Christmas spirit, with gifts and a small (Charlie) Brown tree. Grievances are aired: despair, pain and anger. They navigate this long avoided minefield.

Written by Rosa Fernandez, Curse of the Puerto Ricans considers trying to thrive in a culture burdened with unreasonable, often harsh demands. Julia loves her family, but circumstances won’t let her truly assert herself. She can’t look away from the trainwreck, and it’s sapping her joy. Her self-esteem. She brushes off difficult subjects, trivial or crucial. She believes she must choose between caring, and finding some path to being her own woman. Whether or not by design, Julia (Mies Quatrino) is the most exquisite, and petite character. She stands so much smaller than the others, it feels like a statement. In the midst of the Rodriquez Family’s long night of the soul, she grapples with profound epiphanies, that lead her to confront them. In ways surprising even to us.

Director Dr. Marta Torres orchestrates this impressive cast, managing somber and wry content, with precision and heart. Her keen perception of the family dynamic, the exigencies and persistent, unspoken misery, make the story affecting and implacable. It’s no surprise that Bishop Arts has brought another poignant, unforgettable drama to their stage. Curse of the Puerto Ricans is beautifully realized, making the deep dive into issues we can all understand. Bringing daylight to the shadows of misunderstanding and sorrow.

Bishop Arts Theatre Center presents Curse of the Puerto Ricans, playing August 11th-28th, 2022. 214 South Tyler Street, Dallas, Texas 75208. 214-948-0716. www.bishopartstheatrecenter.org

The Little Dog Laughed has an intriguing structure. It opens with Diane, who speaks directly to the audience. Diane is Mitchell’s Hollywood agent. We haven’t met Mitchell yet. She doesn’t really advance the plot, so much as she comments on it. Mostly, she regales us with the toxic worldview commensurate with her occupation. Her material is funny, in the grotesque sense. How many would compare crafting a mandala with shitting? Both sand and shit go out to the sea. But playwright Douglas Carter Beane is preparing us. There’s nothing wrong with a fierce talent agent, but she nurses a contempt for idealism.

Next we meet Mitchell. Mitchell is blasted, and he’s called for an escort. Not an uncommon practice. He’s opening the door to Alex, who’s pitching the role Mitchell requested. Mitch has forgotten this, and he’s groping to remember details. He graciously explains he’s beyond

following through, and (mensch that he is) will gladly pay the amount promised. Alex still offers to work his magic, but Mitchell begs of. Initially, Alex exploits his host’s inebriation, but has a change of heart. There’s a noteworthy aspect to this transaction, for both merchant and customer. Strangely enough, this speaks less about the men’s nobility, and more about character. Authenticity. Both identify as bi-sexual, but find themselves falling for each other.

When Diane discovers that Mitchell wants to share a life with Alex, she has a meltdown. Though not as you’d notice. Mitch is not just her client, they’re close friends. Of a sort. A very telling scene happens when the two have a business lunch, with a queer playwright, that we never see. Diane wants the role of the gay leading man for Mitchell. Beane takes great pains to demonstrate how the two manipulate and disparage the writer for the sin of being honorable and forthright. Much to Diane’s chagrin, Mitch reveals to the playwright that he’s gay, too. He uses it as a bargaining chip.

It’s heartening to be sure, how many actors and other celebrities have owned their same-gender sexuality in the media. But it’s no revelation, no matter how far we’ve come, the queer community might never count on decency or tolerance. Once again it seems, the barbarians are at the gate. And small, provincial towns continue to provoke hate crimes and suicide.

The Little Dog Laughed lays out a polarity that often still applies. A fulfilling personal life or the dream of success fulfilled? Diane might be seen as fighting for Mitchell’s future success. But then, does aspiration demand crucial, irrevocable sacrifices? Or is the world what we make of it? At first blush, The Little Dog Laughed might feel reductive. Simplistic. But the more we reflect, the more we consider, the easier to see the minute, intricate, toothy cogs revolving inside this gleaming pocket watch.

Theo Maske is incensed that his wife, Louise, lost her underpants, while attending a parade for the King. They fell around her ankles. Of course, it’s an unfortunate fluke, but Herr Maske disparages Louise, for bringing shame upon him, and their household. And the implied stigma of her moral turpitude. Louise assures him this supposed scandal will pass quickly. Next, Frank Versati, a lofty (if overblown) poet arrives, asking for the room to rent. After that, a barber named Benjamin, a painfully obsequious barber. And after that, a virulent, atomic buzzkill called Klingelhoff. It doesn’t take much time before actual intentions are revealed. Louise’s friend Gertrude goes loopy with the salacious possibilities, swooning and purring. She offers to make playful, alluring panties for Louise.

So is satire the art of delivering wildly improbable, ridiculous behavior with a straight face? If so, Steve Martin’s The Underpants is a prime example. Nothing wrong with that. Dressing a rhino in a chapel dress is a theatrical tradition that probably started with Aristophanes. Set in Dusseldorf in 1910, you might say The Underpants is a spoof on the nature of sexual audacity. Overt and concealed. Confided and confessed.

You could also say it’s about misogyny. How men project raging, libidinous impulses on women, rather than owning accountability. (Hey God! The woman you sent tempted me. It’s on her.) The irony is the antiquated values that still hold up today. The Underpants transpires in the early twentieth century. Louise, Gertrude and Benjamin resemble Theda Bara, The Gibson Girl and Buster Keaton. Cultural ions over a century old. These painstaking cues hit the mark. While we can laugh at the backward buffoonery, the over-the-top caricature, perhaps our own, 21st Century boxers have hit the ground.

Director Janette Oswald and this seasoned, capable cast, deserve accolades for the meticulous and bravura audacity this unorthodox and remarkable comedy demands. There’s a kind of twisted logic, a toppling of expectations. Keen manipulation of the grotesque that lurks behind the plot, messing with our minds. The Underpants seems overblown, and yet, the ending is quiet and subversive as an Anarchist nun. Perhaps it’s meant to suggest a sea change. The cunning of Underpants looms like shadows in Caligari’s Cabinet. But it’s scrumptious medicine. The witty and merciless gags come thick and fast, but paced for maximum effect. The explosive laughs, the chuckles, the giggles are beyond our control, and that’s just as it should be.

Rover Dramawerks presents its Underpants, playing August 4tth-20th, 2022. Cox Playhouse. 1517 H. Avenue, Plano, Texas, 75074. 972-849-0358. roverdramawerks.com