Month: February 2023

Four Latina converge in the basement of a corrupt politician, seeking aid and refuge. They are trying to stay off the grid. One is a battered wife, one a radical Lesbian, one her lover, and one the housekeeper who works there. Near as I can tell, one is the mother of one of the two lovers, and one the grandmother. Safe to say, there are at least two generations present, and the spectrum swings from the traditional to the far left. The extreme progressive has flaming red hair. We see no males, though one is the abusive cop, one a Latino Border Patrol who arrests Latin immigrants, and one the aforementioned owner of the mansion.

He is a hypocritical and despotic, living in a home appropriate to a feudal lord. High tech, pervasive, ruthless robotic security. The door to the basement can be locked from the outside. As the four describe their options, we see that profuse money makes servitude bearable. Especially when destitution is a systemic given. The housekeeper might have chosen to work for a more decent, compassionate man, but desperation breeds equivocation. Man Cave culminates in spellcasting, a call to enraged ancestors, a confrontation with the deep wickedness of the Master, a cleansing of this vile realm?

Playwright John J. Caswell Jr. has carefully constructed a detailed allegory, evoking the misery of the subjugated, and the heartlessness of patriarchy. The ideology is there, the discourse, the frustration, the despair. All effectively dressed in plausible structure. All these women have experienced the actuality of being exploited. (The underground railroad for terrorized wives is no urban legend.) Ridiculous wages for the Latin community are a fact of life. Whether you’ve seen Poltergeist or not, “civilization” built on the backs of the oppressed (even their graves are disrespected) is more than just a metaphor.

Practically every component of Man Cave meets at the intersection of symbol and the world the women inhabit. The cerebral and the visceral. The housekeeper doesn’t seem to work above aground. Her boss wants to use her as a shill for optics. Relics of the desecrated are hidden beneath a deer’s head of the politician’s quarry. There’s the dumbwaiter. The bathroom door ajar that exposes a roll of toilet paper. The darkness that suggests a labyrinth. When the four resort to (Santeria) witchcraft, the steps are what makes this spectacle accessible. They are mindful of each aspect. The goat’s blood, the meticulous attention to language, the rules of invocation. We believe because they do.

Man Cave is propelled by frantic energy. Political rhetoric sneaks out here and there, but like The Threepenny Opera or Pygmalion, it illustrates by demonstration. Ideas like caste, misogyny, racism, imperialism are not just abstractions. They’re not amorphous. But they’re no less affecting. They’re gripping. Canny. We see the diminishment of Lupita, Rosemary, Imaculata and Consuelo. Medea prevailed because she was a high priestess of Hecate. That goddess was the source of her strength. Witchcraft is subversive, ignoring the laws and constraints of male gods and men. She was protected (ironically) by male vanity and refusal to knuckle under to Jason’s supposed superiority. Witchcraft evolved as women’s defiance of a culture stacked against them from birth. So too, must Lupita, Rosemary, Imaculata, and Consuelo. They must summon the fury of their female ancestors.

Kitchen Dog Theater presents Man Cave, playing February 17th-March 5^th, 2023. The Trinity River Arts Center. 2600 N. Stemmons Freeway, Suite 180 Dallas, TX 75207. 214-953-1055. KitchenDogTheater.org

Three faculty members from an American university are vacationing in Greece. Dean Trickett palms Ralph off on Daphne. Daphne is deep into her own pursuits on this (accidentally working) vacation, but Trickett is in no mood to assist Ralph in what might be an historical find. Despite her best efforts, Ralph succeeds in roping Daphne in. What follows next is a sudden incident that nets Daphne some leverage with the Greek Deities. She saves the life of a small boy, belonging to a charming peddler (Aristide) who sells trinkets to tourists. In gratitude he bestows upon her a necklace, he’s imbued with impressive powers.

A few months later, back on campus, Ralph reveals to Daphne not only has he found the scrap from the manuscript by Euripides, it’s the actual text of the play Andromeda, in its entirety. This is, of course, a watershed event, and the two are in thrall. Daphne agrees to keep the manuscript safe, while Ralph arranges a presentation for alumni and/or donors, later in the evening. When Daphne leaves her office for a few minutes, the affable janitor (Aleksi) takes the liberty of disposing what he believes to be rubbish, and (in a playful mood) shreds the first few pages. (I’ll give you a few moments to recover).

Aghast at the disappearance of the sacred text, Daphne in a WTF moment, grasps her miraculous charm, woefully crying out for Divine Intervention. Lo and Behold, Dionysus and his goddess consort, Thalia appear, confident they can resolve Daphne’s calamity. What happens next might perhaps be a lesson in the shenanigans of non-Titanic gods and their skillset. Whether other gods (who dwell higher up the realms of Mount Olympus) might find this task easier, I couldn’t say. Dionysus and Thalia are quite “personable”, but they don’t seem especially well equipped to nail this one. Or not anytime soon.

Playwright Ken Ludwig turns the God From the Machine (Deus ex Machina) on its head. An ancient time-honored theatrical device, God From the Machine is a lofty term for a last minute arrival of salvation, usually by extraordinary means. Say if a fiver went sailing out your car window and Moses appeared with your missing money in hand. When Dionysus and Thalia arrive at Daphne’s behest, her problems should be over. Sweet-natured and convivial though they may be, these two are clearly out of their depth. Though it’s fair to say Dionysus is associated with wine and theatre performance, his is a commanding presence, often terrible and merciless. Comedy might be a reach. Not so with Ludwig’s characters. Imagine your favorite Aunt and Uncle performing parlor tricks. And Ares, the God of War, makes an appearance. Though somewhat intimidating, he’s also a schmuck. You go, Ken Ludwig.

The Gods of Comedy is a pleasurable, affectionate, smart satire, often for reasons not articulated in the script. Of course, Ralph and Daphne are disillusioned when immortals they’ve extolled to starry-eyed scholars wind up as commanding as Carrot Top or Kathy Griffin. Ken Ludwig trusts us to put the pieces together. The comedy has almost nothing to do with higher education, and the dark forces that scoff at despair. It’s tongue and cheek; anti-intellectualism by an unapologetic ally erudite playwright. Vaudeville for intelligentsia.

Allen Community Theatre presents The Gods of Comedy, playing January 27th- February 12^th, 2023. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, Texas. (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

Three faculty members from an American university are vacationing in Greece. Dean Trickett palms Ralph off on Daphne. Daphne is deep into her own pursuits on this (accidentally working) vacation, but Trickett is in no mood to assist Ralph in what might be an historical find. Despite her best efforts, Ralph succeeds in roping Daphne in. What follows next is a sudden incident that nets Daphne some leverage with the Greek Deities. She saves the life of a small boy, belonging to a charming peddler (Aristide) who sells trinkets to tourists. In gratitude he bestows upon her a necklace, he’s imbued with impressive powers.

A few months later, back on campus, Ralph reveals to Daphne not only has he found the scrap from the manuscript by Euripides, it’s the actual text of the play Andromeda, in its entirety. This is, of course, a watershed event, and the two are in thrall. Daphne agrees to keep the manuscript safe, while Ralph arranges a presentation for alumni and/or donors, later in the evening. When Daphne leaves her office for a few minutes, the affable janitor (Aleksi) takes the liberty of disposing what he believes to be rubbish, and (in a playful mood) shreds the first few pages. (I’ll give you a few moments to recover).

Aghast at the disappearance of the sacred text, Daphne in a WTF moment, grasps her miraculous charm, woefully crying out for Divine Intervention. Lo and Behold, Dionysus and his goddess consort, Thalia appear, confident they can resolve Daphne’s calamity. What happens next might perhaps be a lesson in the shenanigans of non-Titanic gods and their skillset. Whether other gods (who dwell higher up the realms of Mount Olympus) might find this task easier, I couldn’t say. Dionysus and Thalia are quite “personable”, but they don’t seem especially well equipped to nail this one. Or not anytime soon.

Playwright Ken Ludwig turns the God From the Machine (Deus ex Machina) on its head. An ancient time-honored theatrical device, God From the Machine is a lofty term for a last minute arrival of salvation, usually by extraordinary means. Say if a fiver went sailing out your car window and Moses appeared with your missing money in hand. When Dionysus and Thalia arrive at Daphne’s behest, her problems should be over. Sweet-natured and convivial though they may be, these two are clearly out of their depth. Though it’s fair to say Dionysus is associated with wine and theatre performance, his is a commanding presence, often terrible and merciless. Comedy might be a reach. Not so with Ludwig’s characters. Imagine your favorite Aunt and Uncle performing parlor tricks. And Ares, the God of War, makes an appearance. Though somewhat intimidating, he’s also a schmuck. You go, Ken Ludwig.

The Gods of Comedy is a pleasurable, affectionate, smart satire, often for reasons not articulated in the script. Of course, Ralph and Daphne are disillusioned when immortals they’ve extolled to starry-eyed scholars wind up as commanding as Carrot Top or Kathy Griffin. Ken Ludwig trusts us to put the pieces together. The comedy has almost nothing to do with higher education, and the dark forces that scoff at despair. It’s tongue and cheek; anti-intellectualism by an unapologetic ally erudite playwright. Vaudeville for intelligentsia.

Allen Community Theatre presents The Gods of Comedy, playing January 27th- February 12^th, 2023. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, Texas. (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

In 1977 Bernard Pomerance’s The Elephant Man premiered at the Hampstead Theatre in London, November 7th, 1977. It hit Broadway in 1979, where it took Tonys For Best Play, Best Direction, and Best Performance by a Leading Actress. Not to mention the list of nominations. I’ve become skeptical enough to doubt that every award is proof of quality. But in the case of The Elephant Man, with it’s simple, elegant, poetic script, I’m not surprised that it should enjoy such success.

Merrick’s deformity was phenomenal in the worst sense. It terrified those who encountered him, or elicited visceral repulsion. Not until Dr. Frederick Treves discovered him in a sideshow with other “misfits”, did Merrick find an advocate who would provide for him the rest of his life. As we might imagine, Merrick was so pummeled by abuse and revulsion that his keen, sentient mind, his gentle and capacious heart, his utter lack of self-pity was concealed.

Treves placed him in the hospital (where he practiced) and Merrick was restored to health. There his remarkable qualities as a human being could emerge and flourish. Once Merrick is settled in, he captures the heart of Mrs. Kendall, an actress and friend of Treves. Her friends are the cream of London Society and shower him with affection. A distinction is made between the working class and the genteel, educated, wealthy class that can afford to be moral. A nod perhaps to Pygmalion and The Threepenny Opera.

Bernard Pomerance took the agonizing, intensely sad story of Joseph Merrick, who lived in the Victorian Era, and made it accessible, without manipulating the audience. In the arts such a feat is nearly impossible. Consider Kander and Ebb’s Cabaret, Euripides’ Medea, Spielberg’s Schindler’s List. To explore such content: filicide, anti-semitism, genocide, atrocities, murder; without exploiting our emotions, requires meticulous, masterful attention. Imagine tossing a bomb in the audience without causing havoc.

Merrick’s story is fraught with painful evidence of mankind’s propensity for bestial, unconscionable savagery. Pomerance takes this pathos and plays it down. The way the script is written, we see a photograph of Merrick once, at the beginning of the play. The rest is suggested by the actor playing Merrick, who hobbles, and speaks with deliberation. To do more, is to amplify what already is monstrous and egregious. The trick is to get us past Merrick’s appearance, to the essence of being and humanity. Not to ignore his unimaginable suffering, but grasp that it doesn’t define him.

Theatre 3’s production of The Elephant Man is deeply moving. Director Jeffrey Schmidt’s set is vivid and evocative. The shrink wrap that festoons the sparse, nearly skeletal set, suggests a web and the question of transparency. The actors cultivate the tone so crucial to Pomerance’s canny, cogent, lyrical script. There is something surreal, but tangible and immediate about this show, and the cast is equal to the task. Cindee Mayfield is forceful and pragmatic as Gomm. Taylor Harris expresses the frustration and empathy of Dr. Frederick Treves. Karen Raehpour captures the flamboyant, effusive Mrs. Kendall. Shawn Gann swings between opportunism and piety playing Ross and Bishop How. Rarely do we see such a versatile collection of actors, cast in multiple roles. (Does Equity know about this?)

Drew Wall as John Merrick (aka The Elephant Man) navigates the role of a soul tortured and ostracized, but continues to trust the rationality, tolerance, and altruism, in spite of it all. There have been different interpretations (of course) of Merrick’s body language in different productions. Mr. Wall is called upon to gnarl his back and limbs, twisting his mouth. It’s as if Tiny Tim or Amahl with their waif-like mien, had grown up, shaped by mankind’s contempt. It is apparent that Mr. Wall is utterly dedicated to his craft in what must be an emotionally and physically exhausting performance.

Theatre 3 presents The Elephant Man, playing January 19th-February 19^th, 2023. 2688 Laclede # 120, Dallas, Texas 75201. 214-871-3300. www.theatre3dallas.com. It is emphatically recommended to check with the box office, due to inclement weather.