Month: October 2026

 

Elaine Wheeler and her husband John, share a tony townhouse in New York, decorated with impressive modern art by Picasso, Barnett Newman, Mondrian. These originals make it clear, there’s a fortune at stake. They live next door to a decrepit building, ill used and falling down. One night, while struggling with insomnia, Elaine sees a corpse, seated in the window, right across from them. Understandably, she loses it. John emerges from the bedroom to calm her down. Like Susy in Wait Until Dark, she starts from a disadvantage. Years ago, Elaine was subject to a grisly, horrific incident, and now (despite medication) she triggers easily. Her affect is somewhat frantic and frail. When she tries to explain to John she has truly witnessed this ghastly evidence, he dismisses it as histrionics.

Elaine insists they call the police, and they wait it out. Living with them is Helga, the cook, and Blanche, their family friend and Elaine’s confidante. Beat cop Vanelli arrives and asks some questions. He seems distracted. Keeps asking about the paintings. Curtis Appleby, a friendly neighbor and definitely one of the intelligentsia, introduces himself. They trade notes and he reassures her she’s not hallucinating. A detective shows up, not only skeptical, but nearly shaming her for wasting his time. Blanche and John continue to insist she’s delusional. Though not in so many words.

Lucille Fletcher’s Night Watch has similarities to Gaslight. Like Paula, Elaine senses there’s something sketchy going on, but she’s told not to believe her own senses. Her trust is violated. The very things she sees (and supposedly) doesn’t see, just happen to be triggers. In one sense, she’s met with incredulity. This isn’t just caution. She’s dismissed. She’s treated like a child. Her husband John calls the police, but always under protest. Time and again, her word is called into question.

When Night Watch begins, we already know that something’s not on the up and up. That we’ll deduce by process of elimination. Playwright Lucille Fletcher layers the plot with red herrings. Well worn hazards of the genre: twists and teases and deceptions so byzantine they cease to entice, are avoided here. Fletcher is meticulous, constructing a mystery that feels authentic. Plausible. She doesn’t prolong and has a steady, light touch.

Don’t miss Richardson Theatre Center’s absorbing, intriguing, entertaining production of Night Watch.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: Night Watch, playing October 9th-November 1^st, 2026. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas, 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.com

 

Macbeth is a robust, valiant general in line to be king. His immediate predecessor is Duncan. He carries this promise with aplomb. He and friend Banquo encounter the notorious “weird sisters” who tantalize them with snippets of prophesy. Like most oracles they tell you a lot, but never enough. They love contradictions. Macbeth will be happy, but Banquo happier. Banquo will sire kings, but it’s not in the cards for him. Macbeth will be king. But he knew that. We don’t know exactly what was in the letters he wrote to Lady Macbeth, but he might want to rush the coronation. Which hits Lady Macbeth like a thunderbolt. With a nudge from the witches, it’s clear, they don’t need to wait. Duncan is a dear friend, and he will be murdered under Macbeth’s roof, but these are only details. Thereafter his close friends will be mere obstacles to his ascent.

A thematic thread weaves throughout this tragedy. When Macbeth and Banquo first encounter the witches, Banquo says in effect: you act like women but you don’t look like them. Until then, Macbeth was content to let nature take its course. But now he’s got the itch. Before Macbeth arrives, Lady Macbeth invokes the spirits: Unsex me here, she commands, forfeiting kindness and mercy for expediency. When Macbeth gets cold feet she digs in hard, disparaging his manhood, his integrity, his courage. He’s convinced, for the moment, but folds at the crucial hour. She must assassinate Duncan and his queen for the both of them. She keeps the spark going. Does Macbeth succumb to the witches and his wife? Certainly Macbeth has agency, but then how do women find leverage (for good or ill) when loftier channels are denied?

Shakespeare’s men must endure their own torment. Subjected to catastrophic, devastating circumstances, they must choose between going to pieces or shutting down. When Macduff discovers his wife and children are dead, Malcolm exhorts him: Dispute it like a man. Macduff responds: I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man. As he does in numerous plays, Shakespeare fractures reductive identity. Refuses to separate gender from humanity. Why is grief unseemly for a man? Defiance inappropriate for women?

Director Joey Folsom takes an ingenious spin on Macbeth. Unorthodox and compelling choices. The three weird sisters are clothed as mourners, in black dresses and veils, obscuring their faces. They infiltrate a number of scenes, invisible to other characters, but most decidedly there. Some characters feel androgynous, in the spirit gender-fluidity perhaps? So many productions of Macbeth feel hurried and connecting scenes cursory. Folsom lingers on these key moments, giving us time to appreciate each character, to grasp the pivot. Folsom’s interpretation is surprising. Intriguing. He doesn’t give the script short shrift. He rejects the bombastic and histrionic for quiet, unending grief. The abyss of despair.

The Contemporary Theatre Project presents Macbeth, playing October 9^th, 2026 through Halloween. The Core Theatre. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 923-3619 theclassicstheatreproject.com. tctpdfw@gmail.com

 

Macbeth is a robust, valiant general in line to be king. His immediate predecessor is Duncan. He carries this promise with aplomb. He and friend Banquo encounter the notorious “weird sisters” who tantalize them with snippets of prophesy. Like most oracles they tell you a lot, but never enough. They love contradictions. Macbeth will be happy, but Banquo happier. Banquo will sire kings, but it’s not in the cards for him. Macbeth will be king. But he knew that.

We don’t know exactly what was in the letters he wrote to Lady Macbeth, but he might want to rush the coronation. Which hits Lady Macbeth like a thunderbolt. With a nudge from the witches, it’s clear, they don’t need to wait. Duncan is a dear friend, and he will be murdered under Macbeth’s roof, but these are only details. Thereafter his close friends will be mere obstacles to his ascent.

A thematic thread weaves throughout this tragedy. When Macbeth and Banquo first encounter the witches, Banquo says in effect: you act like women but you don’t look like them. Until then, Macbeth was content to let nature take its course. But now he’s got the itch. Before Macbeth arrives, Lady Macbeth invokes the spirits: Unsex me here, she commands, forfeiting kindness and mercy for expediency.

When Macbeth gets cold feet she digs in hard, disparaging his manhood, his integrity, his courage. He’s convinced, for the moment, but folds at the crucial hour. She must assassinate Duncan and his queen for the both of them. She keeps the spark going. Shakespeare raises the same questions over and again. Does Macbeth just succumb to the witches and his wife? The spellcasters infiltrate a number of scenes, invisible to other characters, but most decidedly there. Certainly Macbeth has agency, but then how do women find leverage (for good or ill) when loftier channels are denied?

Shakespeare’s men must endure their own torment. Subjected to catastrophic, devastating circumstances, they must choose between going to pieces or shutting down. When Macduff discovers his wife and children are dead, Malcolm exhorts him: Dispute it like a man. Macduff responds: I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man. As he does in numerous plays, Shakespeare fractures reductive identity. Refuses to separate gender from humanity. Why is grief unseemly for a man? Defiance inappropriate for women?

Director Joey Folsom takes an ingenious spin on Macbeth. Unorthodox and compelling choices. The three weird sisters are clothed as mourners, in black dresses and veils, obscuring their faces. Some characters feel androgynous, in the spirit gender-fluidity perhaps? So many productions of Macbeth feel hurried and connecting scenes cursory. Folsom lingers on these key moments, giving us time to appreciate each character, to grasp the pivot. Folsom’s interpretation is surprising. Intriguing. He doesn’t give the script short shrift. He rejects the bombastic and histrionic for quiet, unending grief. The abyss of despair.

The Contemporary Theatre Project presents Macbeth, playing October 9^th, 2026 through Halloween. The Core Theatre. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 923-3619 theclassicstheatreproject.com. tctpdfw@gmail.com

Book of Will opens in a pub and regular hangout for John, Henry, Alice and Richard, all close friends of William Shakespeare. They reminisce, fondly and somewhat somberly. How profoundly their lives coalesced. Rebecca is married to John, Elizabeth to Henry. Both cheerfully long-suffering and spirited. This lovely cluster of friends, wedded to the theatre, are always frank and forthcoming. Tact is a mystery they have yet to solve.

When one of them is taken by sudden death, they galvanize their resolve to collect Will’s prodigious oeuvre. It turns out that his plays have (more or less) scattered to the four winds. It’s a grueling, exhausting task. But our heroes are struck by the urgency of salvaging their friend’s vivid, resonant, implacable shows. His scripts took them to realms beyond imagining. Actor and audience alike were overcome by epiphanies. Epiphanies we all know, but hadn’t heard spoken aloud before. Deeply understood but never evoked.

There was a time when two books could be found in every British household. One was the King James Bible. The other was The Collected Works of Shakespeare. When I was five, my Grandpa would often teach me adages like: “Neither a borrower, nor a lender be”. It wasn’t until much later, I realized he was quoting Hamlet. And how often since, do people quote Shakespeare without knowing it?

Language is a living construct that absorbs the reason and articulation of culture as it evolves. In much the same way, Lauren Gunderson enacts the steps that suffused Shakespeare’s cunning from one person to the next. We see how lines found their way into everyday conversation. Swimming through the river where we all drink. She demonstrates the transformative power of his diction. No one was immune. Gunderson elevates a miracle we take for granted to its true splendor.

I was overcome Chris Berthelot’s direction. His deft arrangement of elements. The agile and intuitive performers. Their poise and commitment. Their animated dialogue and saucy demeanor. Eric Levy’s Richard Burbage is world -weary, and personable. Robert Dullnig’s sardonic, resigned, Ben Johnson tickled the audience without mercy. Janae Hatchett’s convivial Alice Heminges navigates the tavern with confident aplomb. Robert San Juan’s Henry Condell is brash and versatile. Ivy Opdykes’s Rebecca Heminges is smart, gentle and accommodating, Gena Graham’s Elizabeth Condell, sensual and good humored.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Anthony Magee’s turn in Book of Will. His authenticity, dedication to the actual, depth of empathy with John Heminges is rare and overwhelming. We see John in all his gentle tenderness, his discouragement, his pique. His unbearable despair.

Do yourself a favor. Bear witness to this touching, buoyant, stirring production. Don’t miss ACT’s Book of Will!

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents Book of Will playing (Fridays and Saturdays) October 2nd-18th, 2026. 1210 East main Street, #300, Allen, Texas 75002. pr@allencontemporarytheatre.net

Book of Will opens in a pub and regular hangout for John, Henry, Alice and Richard, all close friends of William Shakespeare. They reminisce, fondly and somewhat somberly. How profoundly their lives coalesced. Rebecca is married to John, Elizabeth to Henry. Both cheerfully long-suffering and spirited. This lovely cluster of friends, wedded to the theatre, are always frank and forthcoming. Tact is a mystery they have yet to solve.

When one of them is taken by sudden death, they galvanize their resolve to collect Will’s prodigious oeuvre. It turns out that his plays and sonnets have (more or less) scattered to the four winds. It’s a grueling, exhausting task. But our heroes are struck by the urgency of salvaging their friend’s vivid, resonant, implacable shows. His scripts took them to realms beyond imagining. Actor and audience alike were overcome by epiphanies. Epiphanies we all know, but hadn’t heard spoken aloud before. Deeply understood but never evoked.

There was a time when only two books could be found in British homes. One was the King James Bible. The other was The Collected Works of Shakespeare. When I was five, my Grandpa would often teach me adages like: “Neither a borrower, nor a lender be,” or “A penny saved is a penny earned.” It wasn’t until much later, I realized he was quoting Hamlet. And how often since, do people quote Shakespeare without knowing it?

Language is a living construct that absorbs the reason and articulation of culture as it evolves. In much the same way, Lauren Gunderson enacts the steps that suffused Shakespeare’s cunning from one person to the next. We see how lines found their way into everyday conversation. Swimming through the river where we all drink. She demonstrates the transformative power of his diction. No one was immune. Gunderson elevates a miracle we take for granted to its true splendor.

I was overcome Chris Berthelot’s direction. His deft arrangement of elements. The agile and intuitive performers. Their poise and commitment. Their animated dialogue and saucy demeanor. Eric Levy’s Richard Burbage is jejeune, and personable. Robert Dullnig’s sardonic, resigned, Ben Johnson tickled the audience without mercy. Janae Hatchett’s convivial Alice Heminges navigates the tavern with confident aplomb. Robert San Juan’s Henry Condell is brash and versatile. Ivy Updykes’s Rebecca Heminges is smart, gentle and accommodating, Gena Graham’s Elizabeth Condell, sensual and good humored.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Anthony Magee’s turn in Book of Will. His authenticity, dedication to the actual, depth of empathy with John Heminges is rare and overwhelming. We see John in all his gentle tenderness, his weariness, his pique. His unbearable despair.

Do yourself a favor. Bear witness to this touching, buoyant, stirring production. Don’t miss ACT’s Book of Will!

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents Book of Will playing (Fridays and Saturdays) October 2nd-18th, 2026. 1210 East main Street, #300, Allen, Texas 75002. pr@allencontemporarytheatre.net