Author: christophersoden@sbcglobal.net

I have always admired Neil Simon’s gift for blending pathos and wry humor. His characters find themselves in the midst of adversity, but mitigate by cracking a joke. Husband: The car won’t start. Wife: Your mother finally invites us to dinner, and now this? Was that her sneaking around with a wrench? There seems to be an undercurrent of bad fortune or disappointment that inform his comedies, and naturally, his occasional dramas. The unresolved conflicts, the failed romances, the sense of helplessness. In each of these pieces, Simon addresses several issues. There’s the shtick. But there’s other quandaries in the constellation. Unanswered questions. The wrong turn, inexplicable fate, time and change.

In Visitor for Mamaroneck: Karen Nash has arranged an anniversary in the room where Sam and her husband shared their honeymoon. She’s planned champagne, hors d’oeuvres, a special negligee, eager to revive some court and spark. Sam Nash is an atomic buzzkill, to be generous. So absorbed in business, he’s won’t hang up the phone. Utterly blind to Karen’s overtures, the mood she’s set, the trouble she’s taken. The fact that his egregious behavior happens on their 50^th Anniversary is lost on him. Karen keeps dropping hints, but she might as well slap him silly. (Maybe she should). Lise Alexander’s portrayal of Karen is masterful. Suffused with understated melancholy and resignation, it is poignant and unforgettable.

In Visitor from Hollywood: Jesse has arranged to see Muriel to visit and catch up. They are friends from childhood. While Jesse wants to reminisce about their time together as kids, Muriel pumps him for details of his glamorous life in the movie biz. She keeps namedropping, ravenous to feed off the personal lives of celebrities and their shenanigans. She seems to miss that Jesse has arranged this rendezvous, because he pines for her. She, too, regrets missed opportunity. Though we wonder if she wants Jesse for him, or his credentials as a hobnobber.

In Visitor from Forest Hills: Norma Hubley and Roy Hubley must navigate possible catastrophe. Their daughter, Mimsey, has locked herself in the bathroom. She’s crying so hard, they can’t get her to explain. Has she bailed, has something happened, large did they fight? Or is traditional pre-wedding jitters? While Norma fields phone calls, stalling and doing damage control, Roy keeps bitching about expenses. Many families spend more on weddings, than anything else in their lives. It’s understood. But Roy persists in his litany of grievances: the cocktail wieners he’s paying for, the band he’s paying for, the flowers he’s paying for. Perhaps in this instance, he’s not much different than the fathers of most brides.

Speaking of admiration, Richardson Theatre Centre’s current production of Plaza Suite is top notch, and this is your last chance to catch it. Neil Simon’s comedy is comprised of three separate skits, ruminating on the irony that this same room, in the same place, has seen just as much marital discord as ooey-gooey, kissy-face. Each one exposes the pitfalls waiting to sour the sweet milk of juicy nuptial bliss. RTC’s Plaza Suite is rich with quirkiness, ingenious throwaway, aching subtext. Sometimes I think particular shows so familiar that troupes assume they’ll be a cinch. Richardson Theatre Centre never makes that mistake. Their Plaza Suite will intoxicate and strike a nerve.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: Plaza Suite, playing July 8th-24th, 2022. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 214-699-1130. www.richardsontheatrecentre.net

Five teenagers (Blossom, Peter, Oliver, Lola, Abigail) sixteen years old, some orphaned recently, some all their lives, find themselves in an isolated, profoundly bizarre dwelling. Like the well-known Escher drawing, it is composed of stairs. They lead nowhere. No walls or rooms. Blossom is pushy and comes from wealth. Peter is painfully shy. Lola is skeptical and contentious. Oliver is confident and encourages Peter. Abigail is passive and sweet-natured.  The five are thrown together, trying to figure how to work together, under such strange circumstances. There’s no privacy. The “house” dispenses food at odd intervals. A device emerges that concocts light and sound patterns. The teens must follow a series of particular steps and movements whenever it appears, to keep the food coming.

For lack of a better word, the house becomes more “demanding.” As Lola and Peter question the wisdom of cooperating with this mechanism, the other three become bullies. They try and intimidate Lola and Peter, and turn more violent in nature. As food becomes more scarce, their situation gets more desperate.

The characters, diverse and disparate, are all nonetheless disenfranchised. They are dropped into circumstances that create constant need. They cannot rest, or cultivate a sense of nest or refuge. They don’t know when the next meal is coming. They are encouraged to punish anyone who questions authority. In this case an inhuman, bloodless, sort of algorithm, devoid of context or reassurance. Summarily subjected to deprivation, they separate into tribes. One tribe loses its compassion, its warmth, its empathy.

We might say House of Stairs takes the turbulence of American life in the 2020’s and reconstructs its essence. It’s structural dynamics. Adapted by Director Jason Johnson-Spinos from the William Warner Sleator III novel of the same name: House of Stairs is a carefully conceived allegory for our current dystopia. Which is to say the very sharp Mr. Johnson-Spinos recognized Sleator’s vision and the parallels between his narrative and our present day clusterfuck.

Outcry Theatre has a gift for consistently producing drama that is intriguing, surprising, challenging and meticulous. The cast of House of Stairs is spot on. Polished but authentic. Intuitive but poised. Professional but present. In some ways it harkens back to The Twilight Zone. The Outer Limits. Americans have been living with dystopian content in their entertainment now, for quite some time. It’s not easy to come up with something new. House of Stairs has that chilling, enervating tone that mocks the ugliness of efficiency for its own sake, questions the need for mob rule, and begs us to pay attention.

Outcry Theatre presents House of Stairs. Playing July 15th-24th, 2022. Addison Theatre Centre, Studio Theatre, 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas 75001. 972-450-6241. ww.outcrytheatre.com

It’s opening night party of Peter Austin’s new play, Golden Egg, and James Wicker (Peter’s best friend) takes refuge in a bedroom of Julia Budder’s (the producer) Manhattan townhouse. There he meets Gus, a young actor, congenial and avid. Gus has been hired to collect coats, laying them out on the bed, as one does at parties. The coats he collects from various celebrities becomes an ongoing bit. James and Gus strike up a conversation. James is rattled, naturally. But it’s too early for the reviews to come in.

Gus may be wet behind the ears, but he’s personable. James is gabbing on his cell phone, when Virginia Noyes comes in, spouting obscenities like a pro. She has seen better days (most of the characters have) and is indeed the poster girl for the dissolute. Virginia loves the nosecandy (her purse a virtual drug dealer’s dream) and she’s glad to pick up spontaneous opportunities for fast, sloppy sex. Frank Finger arrives next, preeminent, erudite British director, male diva, neurotic mess. He sports sunglasses and a truly ghastly suit coat. (Where the hell did they find it?)

One by one the rest of the characters arrive, each with a stake in Golden Egg’s success. One of the pleasures of Terence McNally’s It’s Only A Play, is being privy to the cogs and gears of how a drama gets staged. He drops a virtually litany lot of names (David Mamet, Lady Gaga, Patti Lupone) exploiting reputation and gossip. Making mischief at their expense. McNally cooks up a strange blend of cynicism and warmth, initially setting up a slow trainwreck, as everyone involved waits for the media verdict. As the characters interact (they mostly know each other) it plays like a parade of eccentricity, foibles, bizarre secrets and wild caricature. I can’t remember the last time I saw rapidfire gags land so beautifully. Make no mistake. Certainly McNally’s comedy is brilliant. Loopy and audacious and risks that only come from a lifetime of refining his craft.

But performing a comedy of this caliber, getting it just right, is so difficult. So painstaking. Director Janette Oswald has guided this crackerjack cast through the demands of blocking, timing, delivery, tone, repartee’, avoiding pitfalls with ease and grace. Chemistry, knowing how and when to react, getting cozy enough to trust intuition, investing in the character and letting that take over, these things don’t come by chance. They come from hard work and gusto. Where doe any actor find the chutzpah to go along with McNally’s gobsmacking lunacy? Snorting coke, dropping trou, over the top narcissism and schmoozing and fighting for the remote. When was the last time you saw a comedy, when the laughter just happened, over and over? Don’t miss this sublime, shamelessly daffy evening at the theatre.

Allen Community Theatre presents It’s Only A Play, playing through July 8th-17th, 2022. 1210 East Main Street, #300, Allen, Texas, 75002. (844) 822-8849 www.AllenContemporaryTheatre.net

Sidney Bruhl is a celebrity detective novelist, though his work hasn’t been altogether absorbing lately. None of his recent books are flops, but not all they might have been. As Deathrap opens, Sidney is ruminating to his wife Myra that a fan sent him a full manuscript, asking for advice. It’s so much better than his current project, that Sidney bemoans the cruel irony. An acolyte has outshined him. His wife Myra is appalled to hear Sidney’s ghoulish solution. As opposed to, say, pushing harder on his craft, or trying a fresh approach.

What follows is a series of surprises, supposed to send us reeling. They are interesting, but not what we’d say are convincing. If your husband showed up in a bear costume, claiming a grizzly had murdered your uncle, no one would blame you for finding this intriguing. But you would still know it was your husband. Whatever you might think of Agatha Christie, her daring turns and red herrings, she always considered credibility. She never expected points for cleverness.

The hub of this mystery is a guilty party that’s never concealed. Suspense pivots on the perpetrator. Will he be caught? I would never say we must like Sidney (or any other character) but the fact is, he’s the protagonist. If we don’t care what happens to him, then what’s to hold our interest? We might be amused by his craftiness and cantankerous cynicism. If not, the story has nothing to fall back on, but plot. So, one incident leads to another, and another, but they don’t stand up to much scrutiny.

Deathtrap was written by Ira Levin. As you probably know, some of Mr. Levin’s captivating writing includes: Rosemary’s Baby, The Stepford Wives, A Kiss before Dying, Veronica’s Room. He is meticulous and brilliant, the recipient of numerous awards. The entire time I was watching Deathtrap I got the feeling we were watching a spoof (or perhaps a riff) on murder mystery tropes. Expectations confounded. Familiar devices eliminated. Playful deception. Ira Levin delivers a shoulder to our ribs, while he makes fun of a tired genre. Perhaps Levin congenially modeled Sidney on himself.

Robyn Mead, has managed to do well by Levin’s script. He couldn’t have asked for a better director. The characters are well conceived, colorful and quirky. Mead has definitely made the most of her dedicated, intelligent cast: Alex Rain (Sidney Bruhl) Heather Walker Shin (Myra Bruhl) Logan Gaconnier (Clifford Anderson) Kelly Moore Clarkson (Helga Ten Dorp) and Kenneth Fullenwider (Porter Milgrim). It was a pleasure and delight to see these performers at the top of their game. They gave the drama energy, zeal and bounce.

I want to thank ACT for permitting me to see Deathtrap on closing weekend.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presented Deathtrap, playing March 18th-April 3^rd, 2022. 1210 East Main Street # 300,  Allen, Texas 75002. (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

From February 17th-March 6^th, 2022, Bishop Arts staged: The How to be Project: Ten Plays for Racial Justice. The folks at Bishop Arts were gracious enough to let me attend on closing weekend, so I was able to catch this vibrant, articulate collection of absorbing one-acts, inspired by How to Be an Antiracist, by Ibram X. Kendi. There is much versatility and fresh content, in this impressive festival of short pieces, written by preeminent playwrights. They varied in tone, mood, angle and worldview. Some were skeptical or cynical, some resigned and some optimistic.

Certain motifs emerged throughout: 

1. The cost of activism and fighting the good fight.
2. Systemic bias and lifelong sacrifice. Racial wounds that go deeper than simple resolutions.
3. The hubris of education that demands its own terms. Rather than finding inclusion of role models from the black community, students must make do with icons of the patriarchy. Impressive figures that nonetheless, fail to resonate.
4. The chasm that often divides African Americans and Caucasians. While genuine desire to care for one another is crucial, finding common context can be difficult.
5. The ridiculous paradigm of upscale bourgeois success.               

What Would Have Been? (Kristen Adele Calhoun) concerns the struggles of a young woman who is living in Greenwich Village (back in the day) who finds her more rebellious soul stirring, and must choose between soulmate and destiny. It’s an epistolary script, the woman and her man reading their letters aloud. The woman’s voice is bright with idealism. The warmth of the young man is unmistakable.

Government Cheese (Eugene Lee) is a tough, powerful monologue by a woman who solemnly instructs her son to respect and do right by the country that supports and protects him. Her sense of ethical behavior is highly evolved, and its clear she wants to meet her Maker with no deficits. She imbues her son with impeccable values, and he listens. The bitter irony that informs Government Cheese is the price a caring soul pays for trusting, and respecting the home of one’s birth; only to discover how precious little that country cares for them. How their joy is robbed.

The Ghost of History (Michael Harrison) considers a young couple, Kayla and Malik, who are very much in love. There is no question of their devotion. Kayla believes in the strength of their connection, but Malik seems resigned to its somber future. Kayla is white and Malik is black, but it’s not that. It’s the loaded past and their place in society. Pain and degradation suffered by one, the other cannot begin to grasp. Each wants to empathize with the other’s situation. But the animosity between their ancestors can’t be ignored.

A Good Neighborhood (Allie Mims) tracks the dynamics between a guy and his precious fiancee’. He wants to remain in the neighborhood that nurtured him, that shaped his values as a man. But his betrothed has other ideas. She doesn’t see warmth and character in his old neighborhood, only decrepitude and deprivation. She’s worse than being upscale, she’s embraced the insipid values of bourgeois white people.

Gray (Erin Malone Turner) depicts a group of four people, sequestered for sociological study and investigation. Their meticulously controlled environment, and documentation of feelings, cannot compensate for the unresolved anger and misery at the core of their interactions. Self Education (Bwalya Chisanga) illustrates the predicament of conscientious, dedicated African American high school students, grasping for substance in the midst of white dominant content. The teachers and faculty aren’t hostile or condescending (exactly) but they seem more concerned with control than enriching the lives of their students.

The How to Be Project reminds us how slowly, how painfully the answers and progress come. It isn’t necessarily discouraging, but its frankness, frustration and anger is sobering.

I wish I’d attended The How to Be Project before closing weekend. I was heartened to see the bustling crowd that last Sunday. The playwrights, along with the versatile performers, capable crew, and resourceful director, Morgana Wilbourn, joined forces to assemble a stunning, intelligent, subtle, entertaining event. The audience was so enormous, I was packed into an otherwise empty room with other excited theatregoers. We were all (if I may be so bold) so delighted to be there.

Bishop Arts Theatre Center presented: The How to be Project: Ten Plays for Racial Justice. It played February 17-March 6^th, 2022. 215 S Tyler St, Dallas, TX, United States, Texas 75208. (214) 948-0716.

As a concept piece, High Five revels in strangeness. Lolls in perverse meandering. Five preeminent playwrights, each commissioned to craft a short play, that hinges on one of the five senses. The experience in its entirety taken as a succession of playful, obtuse narratives. Imagine if Matt Lyle, Migdalia Cruz, Regina Taylor, Allison Moore and Jonathan Norton were tasked to write about produce. Lyle (Kumquat) Cruz (Banana) Taylor (Radish) Moore (Turnip) Norton (Mango). What would result? A stew? A salad? A soup? Could you eat it? How would it taste? As we might expect, each vignette tickles us with a twist. Confounds our expectations. Kicks us in the assumptions. And what is life without a revolt to the senses?

SIGHT: A Dance of Joy by Matt Lyle. Jeremy, a teenage boy, is overcome by the ecstatic discovery of a photograph he’s found in the attic. The mere image of this tantalizing, beguiling babe, has sent him reeling. He dances carelessly, overwhelmed by the special tingle each young man finds in his special way. He prances about the stage, until an interruption turns this sacred celebration into an exercise in the grotesque. Lyle has seized upon a way to transform an enchanted ritual into Creepy and the Creepazoids.

TASTE: Dinner with Dee by Migdalia Cruz. We open on a somewhat glum meal between Lydia and a guy named Dee. Right away we can tell there’s something off. They’re eating soup. Dee comments on its lack of flavor. Neither of them seems to be in a good place. Gradually we discover Lydia has more or less kidnapped the Angel of Death, because she’s not ready to go. She pretends everything’s OK, but supposedly, Dee is too polite to insist.

HEARING: What’s Heard Between Words by Regina Taylor. Violet reflects on the meaning of sounds that are preverbal. She remembers particular noises, notes, utterances, and explains how they fit into the score of human existence. What we might call a tangent on Koyaanisqatsi, What’s Heard is like a tonal mosaic. An audible patchwork quilt. It accumulates to make a point. It heads down a path, more organic than a “message” piece. In this sense, it submerges us in the thrall and comfort of a life, but also the anger and disappointment.

TOUCH: Human Resource by Allison Moore. Lennon works in an office where she has her way of doing things. She rejects accepted procedure for tasks. She’s not wrong, exactly, but she’s in steerage, and keeps rockin the boat. She’s an exceptionally nice gadfly. Max, her supervisor, calls her into his office repeatedly, where she exploits his difficulty with self-assertion. The catch is that Moore’s stamping out roaches, while the house is burning down.

SMELL: Ode to Zeb by Jonathan Norton. Far away in the milieu of blue collar sedan, we find Bourbon Scented Car Freshener Tree showing Daisy Fields SCFT the ropes. Ah, the robust and rowdy life of the SCFT. It’s filled with hi-jinks, low-jinks, booze, bros and brawling. How can we not adore the ironically putrid life of these primitive beacons of civilization? It’s like finding out Mary Poppins runs a brothel

Kitchen Dog Theater presents: High Five, playing June 9th-26th, 2022. Trinity River Arts Center. 2600 North Stemmons Freeway, Suite 180, Dallas, Texas 75207. 214-953-1055. kitchendogtheater.org

Maggie is playing hostess to an influential columnist, an art critic and a tycoon who wants to buy a collection of paintings by her deceased husband, Payne Showers. His sudden demise increased the value of his work exponentially. Maggie is on the brink of destitution, but if she can nail this, she’ll be out of the woods. Only she and her colleague Richard know how desperate she is, and they plan to keep it that way, till the documents are signed.

The first obstacle is the arrival of Graciela, who is pinch hitting for the bartender they hired. She’s wearing a strangely inappropriate uniform that might be for a French maid fantasy, Sophistication isn’t her strong suit. Maggie’s boyfriend Trent shows up, an insipid soap opera actor and an accident waiting to happen. The three guests arrive and the snowstorm they’ve all been navigating has trapped them at Maggie’s house together, until the next morning.

Written by Anne Flanagan, Artifice is a comedy which, clobbers Maggie for being deceptive. Hence the title. Not that anything terrible happens, other than a few heart-stopping catastrophes that turn the evening into a debacle. If something can go sideways, it will. The plot feels feasible, and the urgency appropriate. It’s not all about the jokes, Flanagan has great character development, and the script is intelligent, with some surprises along the way.

The premise is familiar, a succession of tribulations that end with contented results. Finding just right balance of upheaval, say like, The Man Who Came to Dinner or The Philadelphia Story can be difficult. Artifice seems to manage this, though it comes from a place of sheer chaos. Pleasure may not exactly prevail. Comedy as we learn time and again, requires meticulous orchestration, from casting till opening night. Even remarkable actors need great chemistry between them. Events often come fast and thick. What’s a mother to do? More than once even less than ideal material has been salvaged by reformers with exceptional comedic skills.

Rover Dramawerks has assembled a strong, dedicated cast for Artifice. Heather Walker Shin is formidable as the long-suffering Maggie, Jordan Poladnik amusing as the frantic gallery owner, Richard. Samantha Potrykus is spot-on as the colorful, worldly, Graciela, and Bennett Frohock a stitch as the vain actor, Trent. Sue Goodner  rules as the eccentric, pompous journalist Judith, Kenneth Fulenwilder imposing as the personable mogul, Mick, and Laura Jennings inspired as the tortured critic, Emma. Christian R. Black is impressive as the painter, Payne Showers. Like Heather Shin, his role calls for more nuance and versatility. He is congenial, intelligent and demonstrative.

Rover Dramawerks presents Artifice, playing June 9th-25th, 2022. Cox Playhouse. 1517 H. Avenue, Plano, Texas, 75074. 972-849-0358. roverdramawerks.com

Maggie is playing hostess to an influential columnist, an art critic and a tycoon who wants to buy a collection of paintings by her deceased husband, Payne Showers. His sudden demise increased the value of his work exponentially. Maggie is on the brink of destitution, but if she can nail this, she’ll be out of the woods. Only she and her colleague Richard know how desperate she is, and they plan to keep it that way, till the documents are signed.

The first obstacle is the arrival of Graciela, who is pinch hitting for the bartender they hired. She’s wearing a strangely inappropriate uniform that might be for a French maid fantasy, Sophistication isn’t her strong suit. Maggie’s boyfriend Trent shows up, an insipid soap opera actor and an accident waiting to happen. The three guests arrive and the snowstorm they’ve all been navigating has trapped them at Maggie’s house together, until the next morning.

Written by Anne Flanagan, Artifice is a comedy which, clobbers Maggie for being deceptive. Hence the title. Not that anything terrible happens, other than a few heart-stopping catastrophes that turn the evening into a debacle. If something can go sideways, it will. The plot feels feasible, and the urgency appropriate. It’s not all about the jokes, Flanagan has great character development, and the script is intelligent, with some surprises along the way.

The premise is familiar, a succession of tribulations that end with contented results. Finding just right balance of upheaval, say like, The Man Who Came to Dinner or The Philadelphia Story can be difficult. Artifice seems to manage this, though it comes from a place of sheer chaos. Pleasure may not exactly prevail. Comedy as we learn time and again, requires meticulous orchestration, from casting till opening night. Even remarkable actors need great chemistry between them. Events often come fast and thick. What’s a mother to do? More than once even less than ideal material has been salvaged by reformers with exceptional comedic skills.

Rover Dramawerks has assembled a strong, dedicated cast for Artifice. Heather Walker Shin is formidable as the long-suffering Maggie. Jordan Poladnik amusing as the frantic gallery owner, Richard. Samantha Potrykus is spot-on as the colorful, worldly, Graciela, and Bennett Frohock a stitch as the vain actor, Trent. Sue Goodner “rules” as the eccentric, pompous journalist Judith, Kenneth Fulenwilder imposing as the personable mogul, Mick, and Laura Jennings inspired as the tortured critic, Emma. Christian R. Black is impressive as the painter, Payne Showers. Like Heather Shin, his role calls for more nuance and versatility. He is congenial, intelligent and demonstrative.

Rover Dramawerks presents Artifice, playing June 9th-25th, 2022. Cox Playhouse. 1517 H. Avenue, Plano, Texas, 75074. 972-849-0358. roverdramawerks.com

A whimsical, yet provocative, yet secular yet prophetic yet cavalier yet dead serious theatre piece inspired by the Greil Marcus book of the same name: Lipstick Traces (A Secret History of the 20^th Century) presents events from roughly 1534 (the naked, anti-capitalist anarchy of John of Leydon) to April 2010 and the death of Malcolm McLaren. McLaren, an impresario who produced The Sex Pistols (a band that rejected capitalism) ironically made them his cash cow. Put another way, he enabled an artistic, philosophical, musical anarchy that characterized culture and conversation in 1975. Greil Marcus tracked parallel incidents and eccentric, albeit earnest movements and ideologies, ignored in the mainstream of popular belief. These were pervasively influential, yet barely noticed ideas, in the grand scheme of humanity. That nonetheless had their impact. Their moment.

Created by Rude Mechanicals in Austin, Texas, conceived and directed by Shawn Sides, adapted from the book by Kirk Lynn, Lipstick Traces premiered in 2000. Featuring Dr. Narrator, Johnny Rotten of The Sex Pistols and Malcolm McLaren, Lipstick Traces, bravely, kinetically, cynically AND sincerely plows a plenitude of content, without breaking a sweat. Greil Marcus explores the synchronicity of declarations, protests, spontaneous artistic assertions, musical violations, the transcendence of attitude and casual observations, both enormous and minuscule. Roughly, the common thread might be questioning: religion, authority, money, acquisition, reliable truth, law and propriety.

Lipstick Traces is never boring. It pitches (as lecture) subversive elements throughout Western Civilization. There’s tension between Dr. Narrator, Malcolm McLaren and Johnny Rotten. Wrestling for the microphone, if you will. Lipstick Traces is chock full of rebellion in various manifestations; the 1950 Easter Mass at Notre Dame, disrupted to declare God was dead, the prophetic graffiti and blank screen films of Guy Debord, the Student and Workers riots of 1968, the Cabaret Voltaire, the nightclub and launchpad for the DaDa movement. Writers, social critics, artists, philosophers, heretics. It’s a cosmic montage told with rants, gestures, sneers, projections, slides, reenactments, declarations, dances that are: jaunty and frantic, slow, comic, romantic. There’s a good faith effort to be as inclusive as possible, from scrap to manifesto to heckling to taunt to fury to jeremiad to wholesale dismissal.

I’m never disappointed to see an Outcry Theatre performance. They push, they strive, they dig to engage the intellectual, imaginative, intuitive, fanciful. The shadow. We guffaw, we wail, we gasp, we swoon, we pinch ourselves. Evincing a piece like Lipstick Traces could have been a nightmare, but you’d never know from this sublime, chaotic, defiant performance. I know I’m tripping on adjectives, but need to do justice to this remarkable theatre troupe, and this cyclonic piece in particular. Outcry captures the dream of a crucial, fearless, surreal, intoxicating theatre that longs to seduce our senses. To crack the universe like an egg.

Outcry Theatre presented Lipstick Traces: A Secret History of the Twentieth Century: based on the book of the same name by Greil Marcus. It played from May 26-29th, 2022. Studio Theatre of Addison Conference and Theatre Centre. 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas 75001. (972) 836-7206. outcrytheare.com

Lipstick Traces closed May 26th, 2022.