Month: March 2026

Perhaps 30 minutes into The Producers you start to wonder, What is going on? Not that you get much time to reflect. You’re astonished by the chutzpah of this shamelessly funny musical comedy. The premise is simple. Erstwhile emperor of Broadway (Max Bialystock) hasn’t produced a hit in recent memory. His path intersects with Leo Bloom, the accountant sent to inspect the books. Leo casually observes that insurance guarantees he could make more money from a failed musical. And the first domino falls.

Max convinces Leo that dishonesty is their ticket to unimaginable wealth. A charming, voluptuous Swedish blonde named Ulla, appears to fulfill their secretarial and manly needs. Then they must seek out the playwright responsible for the world’s worst musical. His name is Franz Liebkind and the show is Springtime for Hitler. As if this weren’t bad enough, he insists they join him in a daft homage to der Fuhrer himself. Bloom keeps insisting that they’re in too deep, but they soldier on. They return to the office, relieved that Fritz finally signed off.

Written by Mel Brooks and adapted from his film of the same name, The Producers (The Musical) is still as gobsmacking and playfully blue nearly fifty years later. Outrageous can’t do it justice. Marginalized characters of every ethnicity, orientation, religion and nationality are skewered without mercy. No one is immune. That desperation motivates two Jewish friends to play ball with a Nazi, is just the beginning. The director Roger de Bris and his assistant are gay, as well as the other guys living in the mansion. All are ridiculously campy, even for satire. And this, I believe, is the key. It’s like those insanely gory Western films, so excessive you can’t take them seriously. But if you know the chemistry, it can work. Caricature has just enough accuracy to resonate, and just enough exaggeration to tickle.

The Producers (the Musical) is an odd mix of audacity and conviviality. Brooks has a natural gift for gags with giddy energy, yet deadpan. We’re stunned by the tasteless parade of jokes, but intuitively grasp that we are laughing together. It’s never built on cruelty or ideas like “the jokes on them”. The physician heals himself. The absurdity and silliness is off the charts. But the arrow scores a bullseye. Under the best of circumstances, comedy is incredibly difficult. How could Firehouse Theatre pull this insanity, this celebration of the ridiculous from their magician’s hat? And yet they do. Come see The Producers for the vivid, fizzy spectacle. Stay for the merciless helpings of hoke.

The Firehouse Theatre presents Mel Brooks’ musical adaption of The Producers, playing March 12th-29th, 2026. 2535 Valley View Lane, Farmers Branch, TX, United States, 75234. thefirehousetheatre.com (972) 620-3747

Kitchen Dog opened the season from their new venue with a revival of their erstwhile, nihilistic hit: Pompeii!! A sardonic, vaudevillian fusion of hi-jinks, banter, song, gags, slapstick, and end days. The shtick and savvy of those zany productions (back in the day) make for a snug fit. We find mirth in the irony that come with living in the world. I survive a car crash, but next day have a heart attack. Considering  context, the connection between misfortune and humor are deeply unsettling. But then, how do we mitigate a life fraught with vindictiveness and humiliation?

Pompeii!! opens with Sammy Mulligan, a political candidate/emcee who plays drums with the three-man band. Sammy and Jimmy Mulligan are brothers, and Sammy is always cracking gags at Jimmy’s expense. More snotty than amusing. Sammy has the barker’s knack for being loud, off-color, and manic. He sets the tone for cringe-worthy sketches of pathos and punchlines.

The bitter husband and his icy wife. She’s disgusted with his lack of prowess; the playground is strictly off-limits for him. Some of the acts go sideways. Inept technique, jokes that won’t land, confused cues. Skits or one-liners come from a place of xenophobia, racial hatred and religious intolerance. No marginalized human is immune. They’re all treated with veiled contempt.

The wheel of fortune spins. A constant reminder of the imminent volcano eruption. Parallels to the indifference of Nero and Alexander the Great are noted. The days of vaudeville and Pompeii before the catastrophe are intertwined. Urgent citizens sounding the alarm are ignored. Despite the distraction of entertainment, it barely conceals grief, anger, disillusionment and hopelessness. The drunk magician finally shows up. His prestidigitation is so lame it’s a stitch. Then it all turns. Seems the threat of annihilation is no match for everyday despair.

You hardly know where to start, describing the verve and velocity of these cunning, sharp, versatile players. There’s double-casting, and then THIS barely contained chaos. Each actor (except the emcee) plays four or five roles, with nearly instantaneous costume and attitude change. Here’s to: Max Hartman, Thiago X. Nascimento, Ian Ferguson, Aubrey Ferguson, Ivan Jones, Savannah Yasmine Elayyach, Tommy Stuart, Jeff Swearingen, Rowan Gilvie, Parker Gray and directors: Christopher Carlos and Tina Parker for this extravaganza of wretched regret and comic calamity

Kitchen Dog Theater presented Cameron Cobb, Max Hartman and Michael Federico’s Pompeii!! 4774 Algiers Street, Dallas, Texas 75207. kitchendogtheater.org. 214-953-1055.

 

Kitchen Dog opened the season from their new venue with a revival of their erstwhile, nihilistic hit: Pompeii!! A sardonic, vaudevillian fusion of hi-jinks, banter, song, gags, slapstick, and end days. The shtick and savvy of those zany productions (back in the day) make a snug fit. The connection between misfortune and humor, are deeply unsettling. We survive better delusion. But then, who wants a life fraught with vindictiveness and humiliation?

Pompeii!! opens with Sammy Mulligan, a political candidate/emcee who plays drums with the three-man band. Sammy and Jimmy Mulligan are brothers, and Sammy is always cracking gags at Jimmy’s expense. More snotty than amusing. Sammy has the barker’s knack for being loud, off-color, and manic. He sets the tone for cringe-worthy sketches of pathos and punchlines.

The bitter husband and his icy wife. She’s disgusted with his lack of prowess; the playground is strictly off-limits for him. Some of the acts go sideways. Inept technique, jokes that won’t land, confused cues. Skits or one-liners come from a place of xenophobia, racial hatred and religious intolerance. No marginalized human is immune. They’re all treated with veiled contempt. If that works for you.

The wheel of fortune spins. A constant reminder of the imminent volcano eruption. Parallels to the indifference of Nero and Alexander the Great are noted. The days of vaudeville and Pompeii before the catastrophe are intertwined. Urgent citizens sounding the alarm are ignored. Despite the distraction of entertainment, it barely conceals grief, anger, disillusionment and hopelessness. The drunk magician finally shows up. His prestidigitation is so lame it’s a stitch. Then it all turns. Seems the threat of annihilation is no match from everyday despair.

You hardly know where to start, describing the verve and velocity of these cunning, sharp, versatile players. There’s double-casting and then THIS barely contained chaos. Each actor (except the emcee) plays four or five roles, with nearly instantaneous costume and attitude change. Here’s to: Max Hartman, Thiago X. Nascimento, Ian Ferguson, Aubrey Ferguson, Ivan Jones, Savannah Yasmine Elayyach, Tommy Stuart, Jeff Swearingen, Rowan Gilvie, Parker Gray and directors: Christopher Carlos and Tina Parker for this extravaganza of wretched regret and comic calamity 

Kitchen Dog Theater presented Cameron Cobb, Max Hartman and Michael Federico’s Pompeii!! 4774 Algiers Street, Dallas, Texas 75207. kitchendogtheater.org. 214-953-1055.

Letitia Blacklock is the Lady of The House at Little Paddocks, in the village of Chipping Cleghorn. Bunny, Letitia’s childhood friend, lives there along with familial twins: Emma and Pip. Strangely enough, the local newspaper carries an item announcing a murder at their address, at exactly 6:30 PM. (Could it be Papa John’s?) Initially they dismiss this as a bad joke, but it attracts the attention of neighbors, friends, the intrigued and the curious. Expected, yet unexpectedly, the lights go out, at the precise moment. Two gunshots are heard, and the unsuccessful assassin’s been assassinated. Miss Marple happens to be staying at a Health Spa in an adjoining town. She and Inspector Craddock will resolve this baffling state of affairs.

Agatha Christie (in addition to numerous novels) has written several stage plays as well. Murder is Announced was adapted for the stage by Leslie Darbon. One of the pleasures of Christie’s narratives are the careful, involved backstories of each character. How they intersect with one another. Often it feels like the parlor game: Six Degrees of Separation. Charlie plays bingo with Sally who works with Velma who’s the niece of Wallace, etc. It might sometimes feel labyrinthine, but Christie makes it work. As we might suspect, each character could resort to chicanery. Here are appropriated identities, unseen characters as connective tissue, a relative nobody knew was dead, and the facility of social networking.

The cast, directors (Rachael Lindley and Lorna Woodford) and crew at The Richardson Theatre Centre, are in sync with Agatha Christie, and her cunning dramas. They deserve accolades for untying the knots alone. They seem to thrive on Christie’s absorbing mix of menace, oblique humor, and the serpent swallowing its own tail. Lindley and Woodford orchestrate text and performance better than The New York Philharmonic.

Standouts in this remarkable cast include: Robin Liesenfelt as the legendary Miss Marple, who could fall down a staircase, and not miss a single detail. Adam Koch as the opinionated, flirtatious Edmund Swettinham. Donna MacNamara as Letitia Blacklock, who must extinguish one fire, after another. Ivy Opdyke as the long-suffering, neurotic Bunny. And Jed Carr and Elise Stuart, as the squabbling, devious “twins.” A special nod to Kit Philips as the Anti-Communist, territorial cook: Mitzi. 

The Richardson Theatre Centre staged A Murder is Announced from: February 6th-March 1^st, 2026. 518 West Arapaho road, Suite113, Richardson, Texas, 75080. 972-699-1130