Author: christophersoden@sbcglobal.net

I remember as a kid seeing footage of Hitler addressing the populace and the derogatory cartoons, for a few years before I learned the explanation. The odd way he spoke, there was a rhythm to it, and yet something deeply troubling. You needn’t pay careful attention to see there was something ridiculous in his demeanor, comical but pathological. Germany suffered crushing, degrading defeats and Adolph simply told them what they were desperate to hear. He also provided a marginalized, innocuous Community (the Jews) to blame for all of Germany’s tribulations. An unimaginable act of persecution and cowardice. He and a member of his inner circle devised a way to commit genocide without drawing attention.

In 1928, Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill’s The Threepenny Opera premiered in Berlin. New York in 1931. The characters are composed of beggars, thieves, sex workers, a very smooth, ruthless criminal (Mack the Knife) and a corrupt cop (Tiger Brown). Salient points of this remarkably popular musical play are it’s unflinching details of the caste system that result  in inhumanity, savagery, racism, destitution of the poorer classes. A kind of metaphysical cannibalism. Like the slave trade in the deep South, the culture subsisted on the exploitation and abuse of the oppressed, and therefore, no agency. Sex workers provide a necessary “service”, beggars rely on the better angels of strangers, thieves take what isn’t theirs. One way or another these practices are humiliating and contemptible.

Written and Directed by Matthew Posey, the sardonic Moving Creatures gets its jolt and depraved indifference from Brecht and Weill’s Threepenny Opera. The costumes (somewhat opulent but crumby) the makeup (the freakish white pallor of zombies) suggest the privileged yet morally destitute, members of Baron Leopold McDoogal’s “cabinet”. Favored but essentially in servitude. Moving Creatures is set in Scotland, but The TPO’s devices of pulling us out of the narrative, the actors who step out of character to sing to us, directly dovetail with its groundbreaking predecessor.

The humor in Moving Creatures is darker than the gallows, merciless as the plague. It is, and turns on the mechanics of spoof. We could posit that the roots of humor emerge from irony. Even in the midst of the horrific, a well-timed gag can alleviate the sting. Waiter this stew is spoiled. I’m dying. Not to worry sir, you won’t be charged. Working from a vaudevillian vibe, Creatures has much to entertain. Imagine Charles Manson doing slapstick. Gradually despondency eclipses shtick.

Baron Leopold is depicted as a profoundly disturbed, self-absorbed, imbecile. An infant in the threads of a monarch. He’s surrounded by attendants. They are not servants, but neither do they have volition. They indulge his every whim by pretending obedience, but run ragged to prevent catastrophe. Like so many idiots who find themselves perched on the throne, his idea of utopia is a kingdom, a universe (?) where no one can say “No.”

If you haven’t guessed by now, Moving Creatures is an allegory. A way of addressing a particular situation by changing the milieu. Consider how theaters achieve clarity by setting The Taming of the Shrew in the 1940’s. Baron Leopold’s court has been stripped of their compassion. They have been reduced to Moving Creatures.

The cast of Moving Creatures is as poised and nuanced as they are versatile. Under Posey’s direction they have found a blend of the comical and the somber. Their movements (on a turntable!) are confident and intuitive. When you see a show at The Ochre House, the orchestration of music, song, balance, pathos, deadpan hilarity, is positively sublime.

These lunatics: they live to amaze, to enchant, to seduce, to tickle, to terrify. When they take their places on the stage, a shudder climbs up our spines, and theirs, too. Whenever I visit their realm of the fanciful, the strange, the beguiling, the hi-jinks, I know I will leave the theatre a different man than when I came in.

Ochre House Theater produced Moving Creatures, running May 3^rd,24th, 2025. 825 Exposition Avenue, Dallas, Texas 75226. 214-826-6273. ochrehousetheater.org

Brian Dang’s  H*LLO K*TTY  syndrome begins with the revelation that Hello Kitty is not a cat, but a girl. Several individuals weigh in. “What do you mean she’s not a cat? or “Well of course, she’s not a cat!” Perhaps we can presume she’s female? Or at least she presents as such. She calls herself “HK” popping up in the lives of her friends: a detective, a homemaker (her sister) and a cowboy. They take exception to her odd attire, but she refuses to remove her enormous head. She insists she’s not Hello Kitty, but HK, the girl they all know. Each feels abandoned by her, but not for want of caring. They want to intersect, but only on their terms.

What follows is a series of episodes: each a different angle intended to explore and demonstrate the same issues. Are we who we are, or how expectations shape us? Are we  defined by our pursuits, our gender, archetypes? If you strip away all the layers, when will we find the essence of the essence? Each step in each piece has some element of the ridiculous. Solemn but absurd.

Perhaps this satire on the choice between the value of self and the value of others was inspired by Samuel Beckett. In Waiting for Godot, Happy Days, Endgame, existentialist Beckett considers the same dilemma over and again. We wait for omens and evidence of divine intervention, as if we had no agency. The characters In H*LLO.. likewise are searching for answers, especially HK herself. In one scene HK asks the bumbling Stage Manager (God?) spiritual questions but his answers are vague, passive, equivocal.

Above all, H*LLO…addresses the question of gender identity, and how it plays out in the day to day world. How our culture unwittingly indoctrinates us. At one point poor HK is thrown into the lair of serial killer, as you might throw a nun into a flophouse. We adopt the roles our culture imposes, but when crisis intervenes, they break down. Each character finds themselves switching to the archetypical garb of a different gender. The compulsively pie-baking homemaker becomes the noir detective, the cowboy becomes a housekeeper, the detective becomes the cowboy. I think. It feels like kids playing make believe. HK is a normal girl, obliged to keep everybody happy. The sunshiny angel without a mouth.

The play raises the question repeatedly, is intimacy possible without authenticity? Our identity (such as it is) anchors us. But if we remove that, if we see one another without accoutrements, do we lose friends by practical application? Does society demand sketchy assignation of gender and purpose? In a pivotal scene, a man and HK begin to spark romance. She is mutually compliant, but when she won’t shed her outer layer, things get ugly. She won’t let him sandbag. He’s not wrong, exactly. But it’s not his choice to make. And we don’t know many times she’s been wounded, when she took that risk.

Undermain has produced quite the spectacle. Playwright Brian Dang illustrates their insights in revved up, urgent permutations. The performers possessed by a manic energy, a myriad of chaotic montage. The various scenes, carefully, ritualistically composed, feel as if they’re colliding with the actual.  The sublime wrestling with the farcical. The experience is exhilarating,

Undermain Theatre presents: H*LLO K*TTY syndrome, playing from May 1^st through the 25th, 2025. Undermain Theatre. 3200 Main Street Dallas, TX 75226. 214-747-5515. www.undermain.org

 

Gail has been chronically ill for more than twenty-five years. Agonizing, intense, punishing. After a parade of doctors and specialists she is no closer to a solution. Understandably desperate, she sells her home to check into a sanitarium, that promises a possible cure. Once she gets there, she is greeted by Sacha, the gatekeeper. She offers Gail a glass of water, then tells her where she can get one. The consummate host.

It doesn’t take long to discover just how sketchy this institution is. Dr. Tolliver the “guru” has a doctorate in Literature, not Medicine. The regimen is decidedly Draconian. No leaving your Spartan cabin after curfew, no questioning their methods or ideology, no wandering the grounds. No contact with the outside for three weeks. Warmth or encouragement offered only in small doses, if at all.

We must wonder if Dr. Tolliver wraps her recovery retreat in mystery so she can appropriate the client’s money. Despairing patients willing to sign up for any inkling of hope. If the passengers of the Titanic knew their ultimate destination, would they have purchased a ticket? We could speculate on the strategy behind the treatment. Distract the patient from focusing on their illness. Some of the sick will hold fast to their pathology, because it gives them some psychological reward. Don’t indulge physical torment, because it could hold them back.

One is reminded of the notorious Boot Camps for delinquent teens, where they are subjected to Drill Sargent techniques. Prolonged hikes and sleep deprivation and compulsory submission. Results are no measure of success. If you shoplift and they cut off your hand, you’re reformed? For some it works, others die.

Playwright Blake Hackler aims to explain the inexplicable. If you’re chronically ill and science fails, try the unorthodox. If the unorthodox fails, find a metaphysical healer. Luckily Dr. Tolliver keeps one in the wings, for just such emergencies. Gail is wheeled out on a gurney, with the reassurance she’s in for worse suffering, but it should do the trick. No other explanation. Just another enigma.

There are patterns. Martyrdom. Lack of compassion. Victim blaming. Equivocation. It’s not unusual to find dramas that offer (to engage, to provoke) questions with no answers. Perhaps this drama (like a pilgrim) wants to find out why healing sometimes works, and sometimes doesn’t. Perhaps at long last, it’s unknowable.

Second Thought Theatre presents Healed, playing April 23rd-May 10^th, 2025. Bryant Hall on the Kalita Humphreys Campus. 3400 Blackburn Street, Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-837-3091. secondthoughttheatre.com

 

Ms. Sheppard: doctor to the villagers of King’s Abbott, in England, lives with her sister, Caroline, a rich source for local gossip. There’s been talk that Mrs. Ferrars died at her own hand, but Sheppard is suspicious. She’s been called in, to certify the cause of death, a year after Ferrars murdered her husband. She has been invited to dinner at Roger Ackroyd’s home. Ackroyd and Ferrars were secretly engaged to be wed. The others include a big game hunter, Ackroyd’s sister-in-law, and her daughter, Parker, the butler, his personal secretary, a housemaid and parlour maid.

Dinner is rambunctious. The hunter knows dozens of anecdotes (perhaps too many) the sister-in-law is a tactless lush, Ackroyd is something of a tyrant, the parlour maid is a bit flighty. And that’s only the half. While chatting over cigars and brandy Ackroyd confides he’s received a letter from Ferrars, after her passing. He asks for some privacy, and the doctor departs. When it’s discovered the next day that Roger Ackroyd has been murdered, Sheppard enlists the help of retired detective, the preeminent Hercule Poirot. Fortuitously, he’s her neighbor, but she had no idea. The police are called: the Police Chief and Inspector Raglan. From the outset Raglan resents Poirot’s “interference.”

In 1926, when the novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was released, it was wildly successful, selling countless copies. Critics considered it her best work. The novel went through two adaptations. The second (by Mark Shanahan) debuted two years ago in Houston’s Alley Theater. It included Christie’s signature mix of multiple suspects, juicy scandal, and detailed character development. Authors who followed after often copied the structure, but sadly, stooped to paltry content, implausible turns, and flimsy plots. That is to say: a poor shadow of the master’s art.

The production I saw at Richardson Theatre Centre was wonderfully and meticulously wrought. Each character distinct and their humanity clear and evident. I always wonder how difficult it must be to orchestrate these large casts. But Director Rachael Lindley was skillful and the performers were poised, salient and energetic. A number of characters written as men, were played by women, with intriguing results. I have seen my share of Christie plays, but I must say, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd had depth and a finish that was positively chilling.

Richardson Theatre Center presented The Murder of Roger Ackroyd: February 7th-March 2^nd, 2025. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net

Evelyn and William are husband and wife. William is a boisterous movie mogul, Evelyn is a homemaker. She takes an unidentified pill, that William more or less forces on her daily. She is pleasant. But sometimes seems irrational, or a bit out of it. They have no children. They live in a posh home in 1960’s Hollywood. She and neighbor Cassandra visit regularly. When the subject of the notorious Watts Riots comes up, Evelyn doesn’t want to discuss it. William goes to the studio where he auditions rising starlets. Billy and Mary arrive. They are young, affectionate lovers. Mary is looking for her big break. William takes an immediate interest in her.

In Act Two we see a big change in Billy and Mary. Billy has become William’s protege. Mary has gotten lots of serious attention at the studio. Especially from William. She wears “hippie” threads, suggesting perhaps she is more savvy, and not as restrained. Billy wears a three-piece suit, just like mentor William. His whole attitude has changed. He and William indulge in a fair amount of whiskey, while William “tutors” him in studio business culture. When Mary and Evelyn are left to themselves, they start comparing notes on the improprieties that happen during screen tests. Evelyn is an accomplished (albeit retired) star herself, and their stories are very similar.

Written and Directed by Kevin Grammer: Fate Complete is a brilliant, nuanced exploration of systemic sexual harassment and rape culture in the movie trade, and (I think it’s safe to infer) in similar situations where women have no leverage. The studio transforms actresses into idealized, glamorous film stars, but not before they submit to sexual assault, tacit though it may be.

Evelyn quit film acting prematurely, and when Mary tells Billy she’s been fending off William’s advances, he expects her to play along. There’s a kind of buffered hysteria in Evelyn’s demeanor, probably assuaged by William’s pills. Fate Complete comes from a French expression (fait accompli) that means: done deal or accomplished fact. And so it is with Evelyn and Mary. It’s a given that they (and all women) must forfeit sexual favors to succeed in the patriarchy. That is to say: a male-dominated society.

Ochre House has a gift for impeccable, intriguing theatre, and often quirky, inspired touches. The acting feels more spontaneous, the writing intelligent and intuitive, the sets ingenious, and the narratives haunting. They are obtuse, which is to say, not obvious or predictable. Over the years I have seen enormous puppets, Lamb slaughterers who speak in Shakespearean diction, a musical featuring Charles Manson, Squeaky Fromm and Tex Watson and Intense, hypnotic Flamenco. All of them, phenomenal. Don’t miss this last week of Fate Complete.

Ochre House presents: Fate Complete playing February 8^th through March 1^st,2025. 325 Exposition Avenue, Dallas, Texas. 214-826-6273. ochrehousetheater.org

 

Like so much literature, Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream seems to improve as we get older. Probably because we understand what’s actually going on. It evokes Juliet’s observation of the “inconstant moon” whose changes have a mercurial effect on human beings. Shakespeare would aim to capture the essence of the essence of sorcery. A nebulous word like “magic” altogether insufficient. There’s some beguiling and enigmatic floating in the right hour, the right season, that plays havoc with lovers. Puck, a nimble sprite finds delicious pleasure in messing with mortals, glad to act on Oberon’s (King of the Faeries) commands.

Hermia is promised to Demetrius, a very poised and suave suitor, but Hermia’s in love with the hot-blooded rapscallion, Lysander. Hermia’s dearest friend, Helena, is smitten with Demetrius, and Hermia would gladly comply, but she’s stuck. Meanwhile Oberon and his Queen Titania are at odds. He sends Puck to gather flowers that steer the victim to inappropriate love. Between Puck and Oberon their meddling only complicates already volatile situations. The desired results turn to fiasco, and brawling ensues. Havoc is chaos is disaster.

A troupe of Craftsmen who also dabble in theatre, are enlisted to present a play to entertain at the marriage of Theseus and Hippolyta. Their hearts are true, but they’re not exactly Equity. Under the direction of Quince they enact the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, their intense love thwarted by a wall. Tinker Tom Snout plays the Wall. So then five couples: Theseus and Hippolyta, Hermia and Lysander, Helena and Demetrius, Oberon and Titania, Titania and Bottom (?) the Donkey (you half-expect Demetrius and Lysander) are reflected in the fable of Pyramus and Thisbe. Which is to say: Mortal or Faery, Human or Supernatural, romantic love springs from the ridiculous.

The Classics Theatre Project’s production of Midsummer Night’s…is spot on with their unorthodox, bold slant on the material. The costumes reveal the 1960’s, as well as the music played by a live band. The trippy, strange ideology of the Summer of Love suits the material well. The interstellar influence on mankind emerges from the enormous moon that rotates and shifts. Unless I’m mistaken there are several, sly references to “mary jane.”

There are particular plays that are demanding, unforgiving and overwhelming (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Birthday Party) and certainly A Midsummer Night’s Dream fits. It’s not enough to hear the cues and make the mark. There’s an ephemeral, elusive enchantment that’s more intuitive than rational. Like catching a butterfly blindfolded. The cast here delivers with poise and verve and playfulness.

Think Lightning in a Bottle and don’t miss TCTP’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The Classics Theatre Project presents: A Midsummer Night’s Dream, plays: February 1^st– March 8^th, 2025. 15650 Addison Theatre Centre Studio, Addison Road, Addison, TX, theclassicstheatreproject.com. tctdfw@gmail.com. 214-923-3619.

 

John Cariani’s Almost, Maine is an exquisite, poetic piece. A number of extremely short plays (not sketches) with a common thread. The excruciation, the bliss, the irony, the confusion of love. Each fable happens on the brink of an important revelation. A cusp. Each has its own tone, its own salient emotion. A man sends a potential girlfriend on preposterous journey. A man crosses paths with his ex, only to have his last scrap of hope demolished. A woman visits her fiancee to return all the love she gave him. I think it’s fair to say each story has more than one point. Often we don’t know where one is headed. You’ve probably figured by now there’s more than a little absurdity, but it’s closer to Beckett than The Marx Brothers.

There’s an ethereal kind of tint to Almost, Maine. I’ve noticed some productions lean more towards the humorous aspects, even when the content is somber. This is director’s discretion, of course, but I’m glad that Nancy Cecco and Martin Mussey didn’t give us short shrift. Some of this is positively wrenching, but it fits the structure. None of the incidents, are extraordinary, exactly, though they sometimes feel whimsical. They present the couples with a choice to make, even if it’s to accept a hard truth. Taken as a single experience, Almost, Maine bears a kind of enchantment: the mysterious, the serendipitous, the aha!, the tingle or the grief that pushes us to the next episode. Like a gestalt, it fuses to an epiphany greater than the sum of its parts. When you leave and it washes over you, it’s astonishing.

Laurels, to Cecco and Mussey for this remarkable, nuanced production, Almost, Maine shimmers with various degrees of hues, and these two hit every note. It’s a demanding script, it’s too easy to settle for a gloss, though I daresay some cannot resist that temptation. It’s deceptively simple, like a haiku or a koan. The cast: Brian Hoffman, Maxine Frauenheim, Johnny Jordan, Jr, Sydney Dyer, Jamie Gutzler, Brett Femrite, Ian Grygotis, Kathleen Vaught and Tim Desky have clearly brought their A-Game: versatility, authenticity, focus and energy to this splendid show.

Productions of this caliber are exceedingly rare. Don’t miss your this last chance this weekend.

BTW: Watch out for that shoe.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents: Almost, Maine, playing now January 24th- February 9^th, 2025. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX, United States, Texas,75002. (844) 822-8849.

allencontemporarytheatre.net

(Fridays and Saturdays at 8 and Sundays at 3)

 

From December 5^th -22^nd, 2024, The Firehouse Theatre staged the musical Annie, by Thomas Meehan (Book) Martin Charnin (Lyrics) and Charles Strouse (Music). A fine choice for the Christmas Season to be sure: tribulation without pathos, moxie without bravado, sweetness without sap. Inspired by the popular comic strip, Annie opens (as you might expect) in an orphanage, Lorded over by Mrs. Hannigan. A drunk but not a beast. A snot but not a bully.

She nevertheless rules with iron bloomers. The little girls sing their wistful disappointment, in “Maybe”, next their anger and despair in “Hard Knock Life.” Perhaps there’s a clue here in Meehan, Strouse and Charnin’s strategy. The actors wield their emotion forcefully without crossing the line. Their feelings are curiously, just this side of adult. No one is interested in playing us.

Next we see Daddy Warbucks in his palatial mansion. He has a very efficient, very pretty assistant (Grace Ferrell) skilled at following his constant stream of directions. Warbucks is a tycoon and (I think it’s safe to say) a Republican. Evidence of the poverty he’s caused is easy to find, all over town. Warbucks has decided he wants to adopt an orphan. Preferably a boy. Grace ignores this when she realizes that Annie is the perfect fit. To honor Annie’s wishes, he uses his great wealth to track down her parents.

You might say that Annie is a fable. A testimonial to the power of kindness and good will. Before we know it, Warbucks and Hoover are smoking the peace-pipe and he adopts the rest of the girls from the orphanage. Leapin Lizards. The script is quite clever and if we never go too deep, perhaps it’s the tone that makes it all work. When Annie’s introduced to the opulence of Daddy Warbucks’ lifestyle, she’s impressed, she’s pleased, and she’s poised. None of this is to suggest she’s not in earnest. The aforementioned three man team has read the room, and know just what to do. They have mixed (very, very carefully) the plausible with the fanciful. And once you find your way to the plausible, the rest is easy to sell.

I want to mention here that in recent years my experience with The Firehouse Theatre has been nothing short of phenomenal. Truly. Show after show: Little Shop of Horrors, Anything Goes, Sweeney Todd, Pippin, The Drowsy Chaperone, Gypsy….. has been meticulous and impeccable. Timing, gusto, intelligence, and a head of steam like the Queen Mary. And all of this in a space that’s small and unforgiving. Somehow they have managed to pull this off without revealing any scaffolding. (If you know what I mean.) Not once at The Firehouse have I been disappointed. If I’m gushing, it’s because Firehouse has earned it.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Miss Eliza Chabot, who played Annie in the company of this stunning cast. Her performance was flawless, her demeanor unbelievably authentic. She doesn’t act, she is. There’s something about her energy, her warmth, her lack of artifice, that makes us forget we’re in a theater.

Annie played The Firehouse Theatre December 5th-22nd, 2024. 2535 Valley View Ln, Farmers Branch, TX, United States, Texas. (972) 620-3747. thefirehousetheatre.com

 

It has become a recent tradition at Richardson Theatre Centre to stage something from the Radio Show Theatre genre. We are taken to a radio station, back in the days when actors and singers and musicians stood close to stationary microphones, performing like there was an audience. We get to know the personalities of all the characters, from the intern to the manager, to the host to the guitarist. We’re privy to the inside dope: crushes, spats, exhilaration, vanity, disappointment. Clearly all that work at the radio station comprise a family.

It’s Christmas Eve and everyone is wearing some kind of Holiday Finery. Even the technician. There are bright dresses, vivid sweaters, Santa caps, green and red ensembles. At WRTC they’re raring to go, infected by the spirit of the season. An ingenue is overcome with excitement: the one and only Elvis Presley will be performing there tonight. It’s something of a gamble. A lot of money has been spent to promote the event, in hopes of saving this humble station from destitution. Some of the performers are holding on to scripts, while others have one ear poised for their cues. Once the station signs on, there will be comedy skits (remember the Bickersons?) cooly cool tunes, traditional carols, perky commercials, and the emcee who (from what we can tell) has aspirations to the big time.

A Rockabilly Christmas is ingenious. This particular category of show appears more and more frequently during the Yuletide Season. Nothing Wrong with A Christmas Carol, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever and A Christmas Story. But it’s great to find something different. Every Christmastime the RTC seats fill up, and Rockabilly Christmas was no exception. The audience was stoked, convivial and bubbly.

The hazard of Holiday Theatre is walking the tightrope between excess emotion and a story without zip. You could say they are informed by nostalgia, but there’s more to it. The manager has a monologue in which he cringes over the advent of television. Children and we grownups too, ache, for the lost enchantment of this rmiraculous event. We have the technology to create the razzle-dazzle, but it seems Christmas has lost its human touch. Forgive my getting so ooey-gooey but adults, especially (I think) yearn for the kind of Christmas that comforts and gladdens the soul. That wraps us in grace.

Thank you, Friends at Richardson Theatre Centre.

Richardson Theatre Centre presented: A Rockabilly Christmas. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130

The young Prince Hamlet has returned to Denmark, only to discover his father’s brother Claudius, following King Hamlet’s death, has married his mother and appropriated the throne. This marriage took place right away. The couple aren’t exactly sitting Shiva. Hamlet is devastated. A couple of sentries on the graveyard shift has seen apparitions of a ghost who resembles the deceased King. Hamlet accompanies them the next night, and sure enough, it’s his dad. He accuses Claudius of murdering him in his sleep, pouring a dose of poison in his ear. Father demands that Hamlet avenge him. As an act of cunning Hamlet devises to feign insanity, giving him the upper hand in confronting his uncle. As the play marches forward, though we begin to wonder if he’s still faking. If he’s unwittingly acting out the absurdity of existence.

The crux of Hamlet is profound despair. His father’s dead, his uncle and mother (for all practical purposes) are committing incest, not to mention assassination. This happens between the family, and gone unpunished. Nobody seems to have noticed. Or perhaps it’s apathy. Hamlet is utterly baffled and distraught. What kind of world, of cosmos do we inhabit

when man, with propensity for nobility and kindness, would seek out depravity? Hamlet discovers this dismal truth of life and humanity. How do we reconcile conscience, drowning in a fractured and pervasive rejection of grace. He’s not sure he can go on. Ironically, the methods of revenge often involve the amorality he denounces. He calls his Mother a whore. He leads Ophelia on, then does a 180, with no explanation. By play’s end, it’s a nihilistic mashup of the ridiculous and chaotic.

The Classics Theatre Project, in the fine tradition of shifting the milieu to contemporary times, is at once intriguing and strange. Unlike the earlier, elaborate setting for TCTP’s Oleanna, Hamlet is minimal, achieving the scene with say, chairs and props. The dialogue feels reasonably spontaneous; the emotion palpable. Facetiousness is woven throughout. The insufferable, didactic Polonious, the comedic banter of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, amusing.

The peripheral music carried a somber bathos that would drive you to drink. Hamlet, I’m sure, must be a nightmare to stage. The hopelessness, the wordplay, the nonsense, the cruelty. The love lost to rage, to desperation, to forfeited tenderness. Under Joey Folsom’s keen intuition and clarity of execution, TCPT’S Hamlet is an unforgettable, disconsolate experience.

The Classics Theatre Project presents: Hamlet, playing October 25th-November 23^rd, 2024. Stone Cottage Theater: 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas 75001. (214) 923-3619 theclassicstheatreproject.com