Month: September 2022

Rhonda and Don are next door neighbors to Marcus and Clark. They have sold their property in rural Texas and bought a condo in Cedar Springs, not realizing it’s predominantly gay. Clark and Marcus have invited them to dinner, and when we join them they are enjoying chocolate mousse and wine. Conversation isn’t exactly awkward, though you can tell Don and Rhonda are careful to not make any offensive remarks. Don isn’t disparaging when he asks which one is the wife. Clark and Marcus are very gracious, welcoming hosts. They mostly ignore the missteps of their guests, with the occasional, obtuse jibe by Clark. Their daughter, Sophia, is a casual provocateur. She enjoys pushing people’s buttons.

The set for Big Scary Animals provides clues. There’s a line dividing the homes, bringing the living room and kitchen of both the households smack dab against each other. It divides the coffee table. Rug. The sofa. It’s high relief battling with harmony. Clark and Marcus have tastefully decorated with upscale, somewhat nuanced, accouterments. Rhonda and Mark’s home is more cozy, inviting, button down. Ronnie their teenage son, has low self esteem, while Sophia’s a cyclone. The male couple is worldly, more poised. But the straight couple seems more frank, more genuine. They know they’re the “interlopers”, and tread carefully.

Playwright Matt Lyle has crafted a pitch black comedy. Darker by the moment. The humor is rapid, unexpected and cutting. But it’s not impressed with its own cleverness. It winds itself up, then spins out of control. But it’s also precise. There are moments of genuine, deeply affecting pathos, followed by a knock-out joke, followed by more anecdotal pain. It’s like Ingmar Bergman and Mel Brooks had a kid together. It’s breathtaking, overwhelming and glorious.

Big Scary Animals swings between who we think we are, and who we are, actually. It doesn’t seem that way at the outset, but what separates these couples is a chasm. True to the best satire, none of them escape with their best foot forward. Our laughter is helpless, our sobs unavoidable. The scaffolding is cerebral, but the chemistry on the stage is something else altogether. It’s like Ingmar Bergman and Mel Brooks had a kid. In Big Scary Animals, Matt Lyle has achieved something ferociously, tenderly human, and funny. Volatile and meticulous. This is what comes from brilliant, uncompromising vision.

Under the scrupulous eye of Rebecca McDonald, the cast [Bob Reed (Donald) Charlotte Akin (Rhonda) Bradley Atuba (Marcus) Monica Jones (Sophia) Chad Cline (Clark) Brady White (Ronnie)] is seamlessly authentic. It’s a demanding script. Emotions pivot swiftly, audacity goes hand in hand with propriety, the expected at odds with spontaneity. These are complicated, detailed, extraordinary characters that evolve and surprise. They dismiss each other, but then the shiny penny drops.

Theatre 3 presents: Big Scary Animals, playing September 1st-25th, 2022. 2688 Laclede Street, Suite 120, Dallas, Texas. boxoffice@theatre3dallas.com. 214-871-3300.

The lights came up on this enormous, curious looking, dapper blind man, who carried himself like a king. Using a piece of luggage as a stool, he complains that his driver has left him stranded at the train station. His voice is deeper than the La Brea tar pits, rich with mischief and strong emotion. He tells us his story, about his mama back in Texas, his friendships with other musicians and singers like Leadbelly, T-Bone Walker and Bessie Smith. He reflects on his travels, sharing juicy, somewhat shocking anecdotes with gusto and aplomb. He has a commanding presence, but savors life utterly, and wants us to feel that too. Never have I seen a man (the same size as me) shimmy with such confident, flamboyant agility. Like he’s intoxicated on the air.

This man is Blind Lemon Jefferson, legendary blues singer, born in 1893. Early in his career, he played the streets, picnics, birthdays. In front of a barbershop. Blind Lemon made his chops in the rough, Deep Ellum district of Dallas, where folks came to enjoy the nightlife (tarts, jazz, gambling) hopefully without danger to life and limb. Blind Lemon was ahead of his time, breaking new ground in the music industry. He sang blues and gospel, and recorded solo albums, performing his own songs, on blues guitar. Long Lonesome Blues, Matchbox Blues, and See That my Grave is Kept Clean were immediate hits. He made enough money to buy a car and hire a chauffeur. Back in the day, he and Leadbelly took the train, keeping each other company and in stitches. He was equally at ease, singing about the world of pain or Jesus in his heart.

J.Dontray Davis is Blind Lemon: captivating, startling, astonishing. Blind Lemon was known for his remarkable range, and Davis makes it happen. He wails, he bellows, he roars. One minute he sounds like a wiseass and the next a prophet and the next a mourner. What L. Dontray Davis does, as he details the tumultuous, somber, giddy, mortifying episodes in his career, is next door to miraculous. It’s a kind of sorcery, as if engaging with the elements. The experience is kept to a bare minimum: setting, props, instruments, simple and elegant. But what Director Akin Babatunde and Davis create is a forceful, gorgeous show that yanks everything strange and agonizing and fierce right out of you.

Undermain Theatre presents Lonesome Blues: playing September 1st-18th, 2022. Starring J. Dontray Davis, written by Akin Babatunde and Alan Govenar. 3200 Main Street, Dallas, Texas 75226. 214-747-5515. undermain.org

Sir Henry and Lady Angkatell share a spacious, opulent home, called The Hollow, not far from London. Henrietta Angkatell, a sculptor (and relative) is lodging as a guest, and family are always welcome to stay there. The elderly couple are hosting a weekend for relatives, mostly cousins, and their spouses. More than a few grew up here, with fond memories. Several are having affairs with the others, some have longstanding, unrequited crushes. Dr. Cristow hardly misses an opportunity to disparage his wife, Gerta. Henrietta unveils her most recent and enigmatic (though not abstract) statue. There’s marksmanship, sumptuous meals, gardening, a visit from glamorous screen star: Veronica Craye.

You needn’t be a fan to know that Agatha Christie initiated a plot structure that’s now imitated (and botched) by countless others. A murder occurs among a gathering of people, confined to a particular location. An island, a mansion, a train. Hence they are all suspects, each with a perfectly good reason to end the victim’s life. During interrogation, we learn each character’s connection to the deceased, and much about them, in the process. Once this narrative device was discovered, it became a formula for hacks and wannabes. They didn’t really want to tell a story, just a shortcut to success. You attend a play by Agatha Christie, and you will be spared such crass shenanigans.

There are usually a number of givens, to any murder plot: The easiest answer is never the solution. The police will probably show immediately, and make a nuisance of themselves. One of the ladies will shriek, when the body is discovered. One of the characters will utter these chilling words: “There was so much blood.” At least one character will rant indignantly at the suggestion they might also be a suspect. No one and perhaps, nothing, is what it seems. In The Hollow, Lady Angkatell appears to be somewhat loopy. But she’s also snipey, gossipy, and conniving. Few of the suspects were happy to be visiting in the first place. Duplicity and resentment lurks behind gregarious banter.

One of the great joys of seeing a drama by Christie, is her ability to exploit these tropes, yet keep the meticulous narrative plausible, surprising and intriguing. By the end, we will know the culprit, and something unexpected, important from each character. Content is never mere scaffolding for plot. Death never a box to check. The pleasure is Christie’s refusal to make herself a manufacturer of genre. A producer of wares. A master of the facile.

And who better to do justice to this absorbing, cunning quandary than the splendid folks at Richardson Theatre Centre? Director Rachael Lindley and her dedicated, energetic, captivating players give us 200%,. Engaging in the strange, sad, inexplicable lives of the guests. Christie gatherings are always something of a menagerie, but these impressive performers are undaunted and nimble. Each actor holds our attention, effortlessly and with aplomb. I have a word or two to share with Set Designer Kyle Chinn. Dang it man, when you make everything look so posh and inviting, I want to move in!

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: The Hollow, playing August 26th-September 11th, 2022. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net