Month: October 2025

 

Lights come up on an enormous cage, dominating most of the stage. There is a cot, concealed shower, towel, books, sink. Very careful attention to the confined feel of the her habitat, more than you’d expect. It is precisely not a cell. It’s a cage. Rosamund has been abducted by Peter. She is his captive. The play begins at the start of her incarceration. It’s divided by increments of passing days: Day 3-Day 10-Day 24- Day 72.5, etc. Peter discloses his plan, bit by bit. After somewhat exhaustive research, he’s concluded that she is the perfect conduit to channel his father. His dad died suddenly, far too young, and before Peter could know him. Certain metaphysical elements, reincarnation tracking, tribal tradition, rituals, et al, line up, and he’s convinced that once she’s reached the perfect age (a year hence) the spectacular sacrament can commence.

Peter is unquestionably non compos mentis, i.e. not in his right mind. His project is sketchy, and ridiculous. Personal catastrophe had wounded Peter deeply, as we might naturally respect. This ache drives his compulsion to seek remedy in reaching out to the deceased. When the precise date of supernatural balance arrives, and we see him in his bestial attire, we want to laugh out loud.

Of course, compassionate and gentle though he may be, Peter seems to be missing or ignoring the obvious. He brings her hot take out, a jukebox with remote, blankets, books, artist’s supplies. Strangely enough (or maybe not) she, his dad, and Peter are all painters. As time passes she tries reasoning with him, discussing the logic behind his intentions, asking for latitude, calling him out on exasperating contradictions. He’s maddeningly “rational”, patient, and understanding. It’s difficult to tell if Rosamund is cultivating anintimate exchange with Peter to catch him off guard, or simply make her sentence bearable.

As the narrative unfolds, certain questions arise. Why go to considerable trouble to snare Rosamund, when Peter could have simply made his pitch? The actual nut and bolts: the preparation, study, and enacting the mystical event were not a big (if dubious) request. He could have offered a stipend. He probably could have secured funding. But he’s determined she is the one and only, and cannot risk refusal.

It’s here the allegory kicks in. Rosamund’s his enchanted, sole chance at spiritual healing and fulfillment. No one else will do. When you hunt someone down and throw them in a cage (even a much nicer one) you’re still extorting cooperation. No matter how you try to persuade, she doesn’t get to say: No. Your intentions may be pure, and understandable, and earnest. But you can’t expect somebody to fix you, even if they want to. If there’s no agency, no good can come of it.

Local playwright Parker Davis Gray (with an impressive batting average) has skillfully and ingeniously crafted Incarnate, a compelling, intriguing drama, that engages us viscerally, and intellectually. Indirect and subtle, intense and implacable, the narrative is smart and the chemistry palpable. We are submerged in Rosamund’s predicament, and baffled by the gentle lunatic.

Jeffrey Schmidt (Peter) and Kristen Lazarchick (Rosamund) are a match devised with brilliance and cynicism. Schmidt and Lazarchick connect at a distance, their conversation tentative and calculating. Lazarchick concocts the bewilderment and anger demanded by the circumstances.

Schmidt delivers the warmth and guile that make Peter and Rosamund such strange and surprising adversaries.

Second Thought Theatre presents Parker Davis Gray’s Incarnate, playing October 15^th-November 1^st, 2025. 3400 Blackburn St, Dallas, TX, 75219. Bryant Hall, Kalita Humphreys Campus. (214) 897-3091. secondthoughttheatre.com

 

Lights come up on an enormous cage, dominating most of the stage. There is a cot, concealed shower, towel, books, sink. Very careful attention to the confined feel of the her habitat, more than you’d expect. It is precisely not a cell. It’s a cage. Rosamund has been abducted by Peter. She is his captive. The play begins at the start of her incarceration. It’s divided by increments of passing days: Day 3-Day 10-Day 24- Day 72.5, etc. Peter discloses his plan, bit by bit. After somewhat exhaustive research, he’s concluded that she is the perfect conduit to channel his father. His dad died suddenly, far too young, and before Peter could know him. Certain metaphysical elements, reincarnation tracking, tribal tradition, rituals, et al, line up, and he’s convinced that once she’s reached the perfect age (a year hence) the spectacular sacrament can commence.

Peter is unquestionably non compos mentis, i.e. not in his right mind. His project is sketchy, and ridiculous. Personal catastrophe had wounded Peter deeply, as we might naturally respect. This ache drives his compulsion to seek remedy in reaching out to the deceased. When the precise date of supernatural balance arrives, and we see him in his bestial attire, we want to laugh out loud.

Of course, compassionate and gentle though he may be, Peter seems to be missing or ignoring the obvious. He brings her hot take out, a jukebox with remote, blankets, books, artist’s supplies. Strangely enough (or maybe not) she, his dad, and Peter are all painters. As time passes she tries reasoning with him, discussing the logic behind his intentions, asking for latitude, calling him out on exasperating contradictions. He’s maddeningly “rational”, patient, and understanding. It’s difficult to tell if Rosamund is cultivating anintimate exchange with Peter to catch him off guard, or simply make her sentence bearable.

As the narrative unfolds, certain questions arise. Why go to considerable trouble to snare Rosamund, when Peter could have simply made his pitch? The actual nut and bolts: the preparation, study, and enacting the mystical event were not a big (if dubious) request. He could have offered a stipend. He probably could have secured funding. But he’s determined she is the one and only, and cannot risk refusal.

It’s here the allegory kicks in. Rosamund’s his enchanted, sole chance at spiritual healing and fulfillment. No one else will do. When you hunt someone down and throw them in a cage (even a much nicer one) you’re still extorting cooperation. No matter how you try to persuade, she doesn’t get to say: No. Your intentions may be pure, and understandable, and earnest. But you can’t expect somebody to fix you, even if they want to. If there’s no agency, no good can come of it.

Local playwright Parker Davis Gray (with an impressive batting average) has skillfully and ingeniously crafted Incarnate, a compelling, intriguing drama, that engages us viscerally, and intellectually. Indirect and subtle, intense and implacable, the narrative is smart and the chemistry palpable. We are submerged in Rosamund’s predicament, and baffled by the gentle lunatic.

Jeffrey Schmidt (Peter) and Kristen Lazarchick (Rosamund) are a match devised with brilliance and cynicism. Schmidt and Lazarchick connect at a distance, their conversation tentative and calculating. Lazarchick concocts the bewilderment and anger demanded by the circumstances.

Schmidt delivers the warmth and guile that make Peter and Rosamund such strange and surprising adversaries.

Second Thought Theatre presents Parker Davis Gray’s Incarnate, playing October 15^th-November 1^st, 2025. 3400 Blackburn St, Dallas, TX, 75219. Bryant Hall, Kalita Humphreys Campus. (214) 897-3091. secondthoughttheatre.com

Marsha Gilmore’s in a frenzy. Searching under furniture cushions, beneath tables, in drawers. She’s lost the murder mystery she borrowed from the library, and those 10-cent-a-day fines can really add up. The maid, Bianca, tries to help with her in frantic search. Marsha admits she’s forgotten where she hid the book, as her husband Tobias has forbidden such tawdry fare. Seems they “rot the brain.” Soon though, they find the murder mystery, and Marsha wants to return it, right away. Unfortunately the library’s closed on Sunday.

Persis Devore, a French Interior Decorator, arrives looking for Tobias. She is posh and attractive, and her reasons for being there seem a bit sketchy. Then Tobias arrives, somewhat uncomfortable Persis is there. Marsha has overheard Persis talking to him on the phone, and certain they’re planning her demise. They’re careful to keep the conversation vague. Marsha goes to Bianca, revealing their nefarious plot. They enlist the help of their neighbor, Virgil. By way of Marsha’s Feminine Wiles.

The comedy of errors has a fine tradition in the theatre. A series of misunderstandings that proliferate, till chaos comes crashing down. Remember the torn pillow that sends feathers sailing, irretrievably? When Marsha concludes that Tobias means to assassinate her, you wonder if his edict might not be wrong. Several elements: an unexpected visitor, a strange telephone call, a covert conversation and the Rube Goldberg train has left the station.

Director Rachael Lindley brings a precise touch to the content. She isn’t going for zany or wacky, she finds the ridiculous side of each character. (We’ve all got one.) Most are privileged class, but she doesn’t make them stuffy or insufferable. As suspicion becomes doubt and doubt becomes distrust and distrust becomes a verdict, reason evaporates like smoke. It’s mass hysteria but funnier. These actors are top of their game, shaping their characters with quirks and foibles, humming with busy nonsense.

Makenna Baker (Bianca) sparkles as the maid: practical, tactful, soldiering on with the occasional nip. The perfect balance to her frantic mistress. Kate Crawford (Persis Devore) brings verve and poise to the French decorator. She’s not some caricature of erudition or the cosmopolitan. Jeff York (Tobias) is a responsible, patient husband. He’s not crazy about Marsha’s antics, but he endures. Brian Hoffman (Virgil) has a great turn as the neighbor. He’s not worldly, but he’s got reliable virtue. Sue Goodner (Lynette) as Marsha’s mother-in-law, is the savvy dowager, viewing the world from a comfortable, skeptical distance. Julian Harris (Ben Quade) is Bianca’s cop fiance. He has a strong sense of duty, and justice. Charming and vigilant, he is one tall drink of water.

Laura Jennings as the loopy, preposterous, high-strung Marsha, is sheer heaven. The spark that ignites marvelous chaos. The rum that jump-starts the party punch. She might be Gracie Allen’s younger sister. Her inexplicable logic, her blizzard of impulses, her frenzied energy, are astonishing and delightful. She doesn’t make Marsha insipid, or dopey. She’s credulous, to a fault. Laura’s got spot-on timing and crackerjack comic chops.

Don’t miss RTC’s Let’s Murder Marsha. It will tickle your funny bone, without mercy.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: Let’s Murder Marsha, playing from October 10^th, -November 2^nd, 2025. 515 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080.

972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net.

On October 13^th, 1962, Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? premiered at The Billy Rose Theater on Broadway. It starred Arthur Hill as George, Uta Hagen as Martha, George Grizzard as Nick, and Melinda Dillon as Honey. In 1963, it won the Tony and New York Critic’s Circle for Best Play. It was selected for the 1963 Pulitzer Prize, by the drama jury. But the advisory board objected to its profanity and sexual themes, awarding no Pulitzer Prize for drama in 1963.

So began the notorious history of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, a watershed that changed how people thought about drama. Otherwise considered an Absurdist, Who’s Afraid might be the closest Albee ever came to recognizable narrative. We can’t be sure how many middle-aged couples invite company to witness their brutality. Liberal use of liquor can lead to sketchy behavior. That being said,  Albee was a brilliant iconoclast.

Who’s Afraid finds George and Martha returning from a faculty party around midnight. George teaches History, and Martha’s the daughter of the University President. Martha is more than tipsy and George finds her rowdy, scattered and childish behavior annoying. But she brushes him off. She announces she’s invited a younger couple over for a drink. When they arrive, Nick and Honey introduce themselves. Nick is in the Biology department, and Honey, his devoted wife. Martha turns on a dime and makes for an affable hostess. Though these two are as baffled as George at the midnight invitation.

From the start, Nick and Honey can tell something’s off. George and Martha progressively move from good-natured jabs to squabbling to vindictiveness to verbal brawling, and keeps escalating. When they’re not trading blows, George attacks the other couple, passively going for the jugular. We’ve got to wonder if George and Martha are hosting because they crave an audience. Nick and Honey keep trying to leave, but the older couple insists they stay. Though, strangely enough, no one’s actually preventing them. Whether or not they’re in the same room, George and Martha are constantly finding  some way to get the other.

Albee keeps everything off-balance, taking aim at cultural stereotypes. Both couples have no children, and nothing to suggest they will. While George and Martha are always bickering, Nick and Honey (for all their niceties) don’t seem to like each other. Like Eugene O’Neill, Albee uses alcohol as a lie detector. George and Martha keep imbibing, while handing fresh drinks to the guests. As the evening commences, vulnerabilities emerge, and the older couple’s exchanges get more vicious. Albee observes (with contempt and cynicism) that America’s model for sublime matrimony is a sham; with expectations no one can manage. The wife is a harridan or insipid. The husband a stud or a houseboy.

You cannot help but stand in awe of The Classics Theatre Project, for taking on such an intense, unmerciful piece as Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? They may be one of the few with the chops for it. Three acts, two intermissions, while we watch George and Martha eat each other alive. It is genuinely shocking. The cast leaves artifice far, far behind for the sake of authenticity.

Terry Martin gives George a steady, intelligent dignity. Quiet but sentient. John Cameron Potts makes an interesting Nick. He swings between a smile and a sneer, relaxed and polite. Devon Rose gives Honey an animated turn. Not only comic relief, her despondence and hurt are poignant. As Martha, Diane Box-Worman is the raw, raucous, deprecating core of the play. She ticks, ticks, ticks till her anger shakes us to pieces. She is fearless, broken humanity (without apology or affectation). Surrendering to destruction and grief. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything like it.

The Classics Theatre Project presents Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Playing October 3rd-24th, 2025. Stone Cottage Theatre, 15650 Addison Road, Addison Texas, 75001. 214) 923 3619. ctpdfw@gmail.com. theclassicstheatreproject.com