Author: christophersoden@sbcglobal.net

 

Arlene and Mitchell plan to kill Arlene’s husband. The two have found their soulmate, and Paul has become a burden. Mitchell has arranged for Paul to meet him in a room at Howard Johnson’s, where the two will ambush, and drown him in the tub. When Paul arrives, he’s not the insensitive schmuck that we’ve been lead to believe. Even though the murder’s carefully planned, there’s some discrepancy between concept and execution. Mitchell and Arlene bungle it. The next time we visit HoJo’s, Paul and Arlene are scheming to kill Mitchell. Once again, there are miscalculations and unforeseen problems. You would think two people who sleep together would make at better team. Next act, Paul and Mitchell are ready to kill Arlene.

Written by Ron Clark and Sam Brobrick, Murder at the Howard Johnson’s is set in the 1970’s with its flashy, tastelessly loud colors and plaids, and it’s clarion call to women to declare their freedom. The fact that Mitchell, a dentist, is only slightly higher up the food chain than used car salesman Paul, speaks volumes. There’s some glamour and romance in the idea of murdering for the sake of passion (I suppose) but these three can’t commit. As Paul (clearly the wisest of the three) points out, they’re too middle class to make the deed happen. They’re not poor enough to feel trapped, or wealthy enough to ignore the law. Their ideas of gifts, the debonair, the intrepid may be practical, but also, lame. Murder at the Howard Johnson’s stands firmly in the tradition of banter, quips and shtick. Paul: That bridge you put in still hurts. Mitchell: So don’t pay me. Paul: I didn’t. There’s also an element of the absurd to these shenanigans. Mitchell checks with Paul to make sure his binding’s not too tight. Paul let’s him use his necktie.

Pocket Sandwich Theatre (now in Carrollton) back and better than ever, is in fine form with Murder at the Howard Johnson’s. Not their customary popcorn tosser this time around, but a most enjoyable evening of comedy, nonetheless. Manuel C. Cruz (Paul) Mozhgan Haghi (Arlene) and Jake Shanahan (Mitchell) bring their A-Game to this amusing farce, optimizing tone to content, timing to text. Cruz is the cranky voice of pragmatism, Haghi the ditzy voice of emancipation, Shanahan the dentist dandy. Under the keen, experienced direction of Becki McDonald, the marvelously preposterous (or is it the preposterously marvelous?) comes gleaming through.

Pocket Sandwich Theatre presents: Murder at the Howard Johnson’s, playing February 24th- March 24th, 2023. 1104 Elm Street, Carrollton, TX, United States, Texas. (214) 821-1860. pst@dallas.net

Florence Unger has been wandering the streets of New York, after finding out her husband wants a divorce. She shows up at Olive Madison’s apartment, where she, Sylvie, Mickey, Renee and Vera are playing Trivial Pursuit. Olive has a comprehensive knowledge of sports, though she’s not great at providing a decent nosh. Florence is beside herself, after so many years of marriage she feels abandoned. They try to help her as best they can, and insist she spend the night at Olive’s. When they’re alone, in a moment of revelation, Olive realizes she wants a roommate and invites Florence to move in.

Not long after, Florence and Olive are getting on each other’s nerves. Florence isn’t just fastidious, she’s compulsive. Though living with someone who keeps things clean, and prepares delicious food, doesn’t exactly sound like torment. Both Olive and Florence seem incapable of tolerating the others shortcomings or finding common ground. Olive arranges a double date with brothers who are neighbors. Despite some hurdles, things seem to be going fine. The guys suggest the four go up to their place where they will cook for the ladies. Florence, intentionally or not, sabotages what might have been a sublime evening. Though it was Olive who invited her, she also throws Florence out.

I was surprised to find that Neil Simon adapted his original version of The Odd Couple to focus the premise on two women friends. If memory serves, the dynamic between Oscar and Felix was a comedy of chemistry. Two buddies, one a slob and the other a neat- freak, living under the same roof. It’s a quirk of humanity that any two adults, sharing a home (regardless of the nature of their connection) will assume the roles of “husband” and “wife”, if you will. Or nest builder and alpha. Relatively speaking. This makes for considerable friction between the two. Perhaps no one ever told Felix and Oscar that the key to a successful relationship is compromise.

There’s a strange moment that closes the first act, when Olive and Florence are alone. Olive confesses her loneliness and drops to one knee, proposing marriage to Florence. Now certainly, we don’t take this literally, and we’re not meant to. Perhaps this is Simon’s way of silencing the proverbial elephant in the room. By addressing it head on? I suppose my hesitation with the logic of The Odd Couple (Female Version) emerges when Florence proclaims her gratitude for Olive evicting her. After inviting her to move in, in the first place. Presumably this motivated her to seek male companionship. This may have passed in the 1980’s, but in 2023, it doesn’t add up. Platonic may be no substitute for Romance, but sexual is no substitute for sisterhood. Of course, Mr. Simon is entitled to his own worldview. But you’ve got to be a little skeptical, when the “answer” to Florence’s unhappiness could only be a male. When she discovers the right kind of males, her need to live with a woman is solved.

Under the direction of Rachael Lindley, this convivial and versatile cast works Neil Simon’s legendary gift for banter and shtick, with confidence and purpose. Their timing is impeccable, their punchlines, sublime. There’s lots of hi-jinks and physical humor, and the first date with the Constanzuela Brothers is definitely a high point. It’s always grand to catch a show at Richardson Theatre Centre, where everyone cares so devotedly about the success of the show, they all give 200 %, they all make you feel welcome.

My sincere thanks to RTC for their invitation on closing weekend.

Richardson Theatre Centre presented The Odd Couple (Female Version) February 10-26^th, 2023. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net

Four Latina converge in the basement of a corrupt politician, seeking aid and refuge. They are trying to stay off the grid. One is a battered wife, one a radical Lesbian, one her lover, and one the housekeeper who works there. Near as I can tell, one is the mother of one of the two lovers, and one the grandmother. Safe to say, there are at least two generations present, and the spectrum swings from the traditional to the far left. The extreme progressive has flaming red hair. We see no males, though one is the abusive cop, one a Latino Border Patrol who arrests Latin immigrants, and one the aforementioned owner of the mansion.

He is a hypocritical and despotic, living in a home appropriate to a feudal lord. High tech, pervasive, ruthless robotic security. The door to the basement can be locked from the outside. As the four describe their options, we see that profuse money makes servitude bearable. Especially when destitution is a systemic given. The housekeeper might have chosen to work for a more decent, compassionate man, but desperation breeds equivocation. Man Cave culminates in spellcasting, a call to enraged ancestors, a confrontation with the deep wickedness of the Master, a cleansing of this vile realm?

Playwright John J. Caswell Jr. has carefully constructed a detailed allegory, evoking the misery of the subjugated, and the heartlessness of patriarchy. The ideology is there, the discourse, the frustration, the despair. All effectively dressed in plausible structure. All these women have experienced the actuality of being exploited. (The underground railroad for terrorized wives is no urban legend.) Ridiculous wages for the Latin community are a fact of life. Whether you’ve seen Poltergeist or not, “civilization” built on the backs of the oppressed (even their graves are disrespected) is more than just a metaphor.

Practically every component of Man Cave meets at the intersection of symbol and the world the women inhabit. The cerebral and the visceral. The housekeeper doesn’t seem to work above aground. Her boss wants to use her as a shill for optics. Relics of the desecrated are hidden beneath a deer’s head of the politician’s quarry. There’s the dumbwaiter. The bathroom door ajar that exposes a roll of toilet paper. The darkness that suggests a labyrinth. When the four resort to (Santeria) witchcraft, the steps are what makes this spectacle accessible. They are mindful of each aspect. The goat’s blood, the meticulous attention to language, the rules of invocation. We believe because they do.

Man Cave is propelled by frantic energy. Political rhetoric sneaks out here and there, but like The Threepenny Opera or Pygmalion, it illustrates by demonstration. Ideas like caste, misogyny, racism, imperialism are not just abstractions. They’re not amorphous. But they’re no less affecting. They’re gripping. Canny. We see the diminishment of Lupita, Rosemary, Imaculata and Consuelo. Medea prevailed because she was a high priestess of Hecate. That goddess was the source of her strength. Witchcraft is subversive, ignoring the laws and constraints of male gods and men. She was protected (ironically) by male vanity and refusal to knuckle under to Jason’s supposed superiority. Witchcraft evolved as women’s defiance of a culture stacked against them from birth. So too, must Lupita, Rosemary, Imaculata, and Consuelo. They must summon the fury of their female ancestors.

Kitchen Dog Theater presents Man Cave, playing February 17th-March 5^th, 2023. The Trinity River Arts Center. 2600 N. Stemmons Freeway, Suite 180 Dallas, TX 75207. 214-953-1055. KitchenDogTheater.org

Three faculty members from an American university are vacationing in Greece. Dean Trickett palms Ralph off on Daphne. Daphne is deep into her own pursuits on this (accidentally working) vacation, but Trickett is in no mood to assist Ralph in what might be an historical find. Despite her best efforts, Ralph succeeds in roping Daphne in. What follows next is a sudden incident that nets Daphne some leverage with the Greek Deities. She saves the life of a small boy, belonging to a charming peddler (Aristide) who sells trinkets to tourists. In gratitude he bestows upon her a necklace, he’s imbued with impressive powers.

A few months later, back on campus, Ralph reveals to Daphne not only has he found the scrap from the manuscript by Euripides, it’s the actual text of the play Andromeda, in its entirety. This is, of course, a watershed event, and the two are in thrall. Daphne agrees to keep the manuscript safe, while Ralph arranges a presentation for alumni and/or donors, later in the evening. When Daphne leaves her office for a few minutes, the affable janitor (Aleksi) takes the liberty of disposing what he believes to be rubbish, and (in a playful mood) shreds the first few pages. (I’ll give you a few moments to recover).

Aghast at the disappearance of the sacred text, Daphne in a WTF moment, grasps her miraculous charm, woefully crying out for Divine Intervention. Lo and Behold, Dionysus and his goddess consort, Thalia appear, confident they can resolve Daphne’s calamity. What happens next might perhaps be a lesson in the shenanigans of non-Titanic gods and their skillset. Whether other gods (who dwell higher up the realms of Mount Olympus) might find this task easier, I couldn’t say. Dionysus and Thalia are quite “personable”, but they don’t seem especially well equipped to nail this one. Or not anytime soon.

Playwright Ken Ludwig turns the God From the Machine (Deus ex Machina) on its head. An ancient time-honored theatrical device, God From the Machine is a lofty term for a last minute arrival of salvation, usually by extraordinary means. Say if a fiver went sailing out your car window and Moses appeared with your missing money in hand. When Dionysus and Thalia arrive at Daphne’s behest, her problems should be over. Sweet-natured and convivial though they may be, these two are clearly out of their depth. Though it’s fair to say Dionysus is associated with wine and theatre performance, his is a commanding presence, often terrible and merciless. Comedy might be a reach. Not so with Ludwig’s characters. Imagine your favorite Aunt and Uncle performing parlor tricks. And Ares, the God of War, makes an appearance. Though somewhat intimidating, he’s also a schmuck. You go, Ken Ludwig.

The Gods of Comedy is a pleasurable, affectionate, smart satire, often for reasons not articulated in the script. Of course, Ralph and Daphne are disillusioned when immortals they’ve extolled to starry-eyed scholars wind up as commanding as Carrot Top or Kathy Griffin. Ken Ludwig trusts us to put the pieces together. The comedy has almost nothing to do with higher education, and the dark forces that scoff at despair. It’s tongue and cheek; anti-intellectualism by an unapologetic ally erudite playwright. Vaudeville for intelligentsia.

Allen Community Theatre presents The Gods of Comedy, playing January 27th- February 12^th, 2023. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, Texas. (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

Three faculty members from an American university are vacationing in Greece. Dean Trickett palms Ralph off on Daphne. Daphne is deep into her own pursuits on this (accidentally working) vacation, but Trickett is in no mood to assist Ralph in what might be an historical find. Despite her best efforts, Ralph succeeds in roping Daphne in. What follows next is a sudden incident that nets Daphne some leverage with the Greek Deities. She saves the life of a small boy, belonging to a charming peddler (Aristide) who sells trinkets to tourists. In gratitude he bestows upon her a necklace, he’s imbued with impressive powers.

A few months later, back on campus, Ralph reveals to Daphne not only has he found the scrap from the manuscript by Euripides, it’s the actual text of the play Andromeda, in its entirety. This is, of course, a watershed event, and the two are in thrall. Daphne agrees to keep the manuscript safe, while Ralph arranges a presentation for alumni and/or donors, later in the evening. When Daphne leaves her office for a few minutes, the affable janitor (Aleksi) takes the liberty of disposing what he believes to be rubbish, and (in a playful mood) shreds the first few pages. (I’ll give you a few moments to recover).

Aghast at the disappearance of the sacred text, Daphne in a WTF moment, grasps her miraculous charm, woefully crying out for Divine Intervention. Lo and Behold, Dionysus and his goddess consort, Thalia appear, confident they can resolve Daphne’s calamity. What happens next might perhaps be a lesson in the shenanigans of non-Titanic gods and their skillset. Whether other gods (who dwell higher up the realms of Mount Olympus) might find this task easier, I couldn’t say. Dionysus and Thalia are quite “personable”, but they don’t seem especially well equipped to nail this one. Or not anytime soon.

Playwright Ken Ludwig turns the God From the Machine (Deus ex Machina) on its head. An ancient time-honored theatrical device, God From the Machine is a lofty term for a last minute arrival of salvation, usually by extraordinary means. Say if a fiver went sailing out your car window and Moses appeared with your missing money in hand. When Dionysus and Thalia arrive at Daphne’s behest, her problems should be over. Sweet-natured and convivial though they may be, these two are clearly out of their depth. Though it’s fair to say Dionysus is associated with wine and theatre performance, his is a commanding presence, often terrible and merciless. Comedy might be a reach. Not so with Ludwig’s characters. Imagine your favorite Aunt and Uncle performing parlor tricks. And Ares, the God of War, makes an appearance. Though somewhat intimidating, he’s also a schmuck. You go, Ken Ludwig.

The Gods of Comedy is a pleasurable, affectionate, smart satire, often for reasons not articulated in the script. Of course, Ralph and Daphne are disillusioned when immortals they’ve extolled to starry-eyed scholars wind up as commanding as Carrot Top or Kathy Griffin. Ken Ludwig trusts us to put the pieces together. The comedy has almost nothing to do with higher education, and the dark forces that scoff at despair. It’s tongue and cheek; anti-intellectualism by an unapologetic ally erudite playwright. Vaudeville for intelligentsia.

Allen Community Theatre presents The Gods of Comedy, playing January 27th- February 12^th, 2023. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, Texas. (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

In 1977 Bernard Pomerance’s The Elephant Man premiered at the Hampstead Theatre in London, November 7th, 1977. It hit Broadway in 1979, where it took Tonys For Best Play, Best Direction, and Best Performance by a Leading Actress. Not to mention the list of nominations. I’ve become skeptical enough to doubt that every award is proof of quality. But in the case of The Elephant Man, with it’s simple, elegant, poetic script, I’m not surprised that it should enjoy such success.

Merrick’s deformity was phenomenal in the worst sense. It terrified those who encountered him, or elicited visceral repulsion. Not until Dr. Frederick Treves discovered him in a sideshow with other “misfits”, did Merrick find an advocate who would provide for him the rest of his life. As we might imagine, Merrick was so pummeled by abuse and revulsion that his keen, sentient mind, his gentle and capacious heart, his utter lack of self-pity was concealed.

Treves placed him in the hospital (where he practiced) and Merrick was restored to health. There his remarkable qualities as a human being could emerge and flourish. Once Merrick is settled in, he captures the heart of Mrs. Kendall, an actress and friend of Treves. Her friends are the cream of London Society and shower him with affection. A distinction is made between the working class and the genteel, educated, wealthy class that can afford to be moral. A nod perhaps to Pygmalion and The Threepenny Opera.

Bernard Pomerance took the agonizing, intensely sad story of Joseph Merrick, who lived in the Victorian Era, and made it accessible, without manipulating the audience. In the arts such a feat is nearly impossible. Consider Kander and Ebb’s Cabaret, Euripides’ Medea, Spielberg’s Schindler’s List. To explore such content: filicide, anti-semitism, genocide, atrocities, murder; without exploiting our emotions, requires meticulous, masterful attention. Imagine tossing a bomb in the audience without causing havoc.

Merrick’s story is fraught with painful evidence of mankind’s propensity for bestial, unconscionable savagery. Pomerance takes this pathos and plays it down. The way the script is written, we see a photograph of Merrick once, at the beginning of the play. The rest is suggested by the actor playing Merrick, who hobbles, and speaks with deliberation. To do more, is to amplify what already is monstrous and egregious. The trick is to get us past Merrick’s appearance, to the essence of being and humanity. Not to ignore his unimaginable suffering, but grasp that it doesn’t define him.

Theatre 3’s production of The Elephant Man is deeply moving. Director Jeffrey Schmidt’s set is vivid and evocative. The shrink wrap that festoons the sparse, nearly skeletal set, suggests a web and the question of transparency. The actors cultivate the tone so crucial to Pomerance’s canny, cogent, lyrical script. There is something surreal, but tangible and immediate about this show, and the cast is equal to the task. Cindee Mayfield is forceful and pragmatic as Gomm. Taylor Harris expresses the frustration and empathy of Dr. Frederick Treves. Karen Raehpour captures the flamboyant, effusive Mrs. Kendall. Shawn Gann swings between opportunism and piety playing Ross and Bishop How. Rarely do we see such a versatile collection of actors, cast in multiple roles. (Does Equity know about this?)

Drew Wall as John Merrick (aka The Elephant Man) navigates the role of a soul tortured and ostracized, but continues to trust the rationality, tolerance, and altruism, in spite of it all. There have been different interpretations (of course) of Merrick’s body language in different productions. Mr. Wall is called upon to gnarl his back and limbs, twisting his mouth. It’s as if Tiny Tim or Amahl with their waif-like mien, had grown up, shaped by mankind’s contempt. It is apparent that Mr. Wall is utterly dedicated to his craft in what must be an emotionally and physically exhausting performance.

Theatre 3 presents The Elephant Man, playing January 19th-February 19^th, 2023. 2688 Laclede # 120, Dallas, Texas 75201. 214-871-3300. www.theatre3dallas.com. It is emphatically recommended to check with the box office, due to inclement weather.

Once a year, Pegasus Theatre stages a new “black and white” show. It is a long standing tradition. Each new show, written by Kurt Kleinman, is an homage to the heyday (1940’s -50’s) of film noir detective dramas. The brusque banter, understated alpha camp, cynicism that stands as a beguiling genre in the American Cinema Canon. These performances feature actors wearing a special gray makeup, special costumes and sets, designed to evoke the days before technicolor came to the silver screen.

The year is 1955. There’s a Top Secret Air Force Base (aka Paradise Ranch) where the highest level of National Security has been compromised. Our intrepid trio (Captain Foster, Nigel Grouse, and Harry Hunsacker) is summoned to the base, ready to set things right. It’s not long before homicide runs amok, with no apparent suspects. The Three Detectives are on the case. They bicker and squabble and Hunsacker makes his usual gaffes, whether it’s pretzel logic or unwittingly insulting someone. Grouse is nearby, most of time, to salvage the moment. It’s as if he’s channeling Gracie Allen, his guileless observations somehow endearing.

In the course of investigation, certain quandaries arise. The scientists involved are evasive and arrogant. Interlopers are casually coming and going to this fortress of solitude. Sam Phillips, a dashing, forceful G-Man arrives with his peppy, if somewhat stern assistant, Johnson. Two murders have occurred but all are baffled. Colonel Jean Hudson has been pondering using parallel universes to confront a past paramour. So many of these characters have secrets, and it won’t be easy.

Needless to say, most detectives aren’t called upon to solve murders in the realms of speculative fiction. Playwright Kleinman has fused two genres that often used black and white cinematography to its optimal effect. They may not have had any choice, but the true masters of film could make us swoon. The absurd, tongue-in-cheek antics of The Three are amusing and reassuring. The unmistakable tropes from classics like Forbidden Planet and The Maltese Falcon, the musical prompts when a jarring discovery comes, the slap happy gunplay, the painful memories of relationships that tanked. They are all here in this sublime, nostalgic, goofy celebration of dark, fanciful, deadpan ordeals.

Pegasus Theatre presented The Dimension of Death! From December 29th-January 22^nd, 2023. Charles W. Eisemann Center, 2351 Performance Drive, Richardson, Texas 75082. 972-744-4650. www.eisemanncenter.com

After years of reviewing theatre (much to my delight!) I have concluded how difficult it must be to stage a Christmas production production that is fresh, intriguing, uncorny and actually kindles that elusive spark we all yearn for. Christmas evokes so much for us that it’s hard to meet everyone’s understandably high expectations. Speaking as a grown adult (?!) I ache for the Christmases of my youth. There are times when I think we adults need Christmas more than children. Relatively speaking.

Richardson Theatre Centre’s  Hometown Holiday Radio Show manages this Herculean feat and more. The premise of experiencing Christmas lore (A Christmas Carol, It’s A Wonderful Life) through the lens of the glorious radio shows of the 1950’s, seems to put just the right spin on familiar narratives. Radio shows seem to be all the rage lately, with their ingenuity and zip and sly humor and warmth. Hometown Holiday opens on a small radio station as the actors, singers, foleys, director, writer, director, Master of Ceremonies and Mary the cleaning lady, et al, arrive. A calamity has hit Mary hard, but she doesn’t show it. It’s Christmas Eve and everyone’s dressed in their holiday finery, from dapper suits to opulent dresses to goofy, vivid costumes. Even if it’s only a Santa cap, everyone wears something special. All are light, buoyant and jazzed for the show to start, performing for the studio audience and the one at home.

There are Christmas carols, certainly, and comic sketches, daffy bits, an episode of Fibber McGee and Molly, commercials, spot-on news breaks, interventions by the writer. There’s a spoof on Twelve Days of Christmas that’s silly and marvelous. It’s clear Mary has always wanted to be a part of the show, and her opportunity arises. It may be a mostly secular celebration but the spirit of the birth comes through. We see delight as the men and women step up to do their piece; get glimpses of their lives outside the station. The nuance of radiance in their faces. I don’t always get the point of show-within-a- show shows, but here it makes perfect sense. Molly and Collin and Mary and Jeanette are human beings sharing the earth (with the rest of us). Tonight they are not only actors, they are friends celebrating Christmas with us.

There is something mystical, when we consider why some shows come together, and others not quite. If it’s a Christmas show, the risk increases exponentially. You’ve really got to avoid the temptation to push our buttons. There are many so deeply invested in Christmas. I’m thinking it’s the balance of nostalgia and celebration and graciousness, tempered by the relaxed demeanor of the characters. Enthusiastic but modulated and therefore, perhaps more palpable as real. And we all have permission to play. Hometown Holiday Radio Show isn’t a pageant. It’s not an extravaganza or a spectacle. It’s folks involved in their everyday lives, engaged in the simple act of welcoming the special, promised visitor. Yes?

Richardson Theatre Centre staged Hometown Holiday Radio Show December 2-18th, 2022. 518 W Arapaho Rd, Ste 113, Richardson, TX, 75080. (972) 699-1130. richardsontheatre@gmail.com

My heartfelt gratitude to RTC for letting me attend the last night of the run.

 

Belle is a young woman living in a provincial French Village with her father (Maurice) an ingenious, eccentric inventor. Belle herself isn’t interested in typical expectations. She may be the only villager who uses the library, and no particular interest in finding a husband. It doesn’t take much to spook these simple folk, though she’s not especially ostracized. One guy in particular: Gaston (an insufferable, self-absorbed, alpha male) has chosen Belle to be his future bride. He puts the schmuck in bravado. Apparently, in a town of the blind, a one-eyed man is king.

Maurice has loaded up his coach for a convention of like-minded artisans. Assuring his daughter he’ll be fine, he sets off, cutting a shortcut through the woods. A hurly-burly ensues, toppling his wagon and scaring his horse. Keen to escape the wolves that encircle him, he comes knocking at a palace, far removed from the rest of the world. There he discovers an opulent dwelling, occupied by servants that have been transformed into objects. A teakettle. A wardrobe. A candlestick. A grandfather clock. They cautiously offer him food and shelter, but when the Beast discovers the interloper, he throws him in the dungeon. Can Belle rescue him?

By now I think most of us are familiar with the Disney brand, adapting their animated films to stage musicals. Aladdin, The Lion King, Frozen, to name but a few, have been transformed to profitable, theatrical ventures. Disney’s sense of spectacle translates smoothly, and (near as I can tell) no major narrative changes. Watching Firehouse’s production of Beauty and the Beast, I was intrigued by the process. Much to my surprise, Dylan Elza appeared to have Gaston’s facial expressions down to a fine art. Practically identical. The effect was impressive and somewhat alarming. Was the idea to replicate, complicate or stimulate? Perhaps all three? You’ve got to wrestle unique expectations of the fanbase and the demands of a piece that must stand on its own.

Firehouse’s production of Beauty and the Beast is formidable. Captivating, touching and sublime. Issues of gender subjugation, vilification of the other, isolation of the misunderstood, in some ways are more salient on the stage. The cast brings warmth that somehow seems more palpable, coming from living human beings. They are avid and dedicated to their craft. It can’t be easy transcending the cool polish of Disney cartoons. I felt a bit foolish (when Belle returns to the Beast) snuffling loudly, like so many others in the audience. But there you go.

I am grateful to Firehouse Theatre for allowing me to review closing weekend.

Beauty and the Beast played The Firehouse Theatre December 2nd-18th. 2535 Valley View Ln, Farmers Branch, TX, Farmer’s Branch 75234. (972) 620-3747. thefirehousetheatre.com

A Christmas Carol opens with Ebenezer Scrooge lambasting anything associated with the Birth of the Messiah. He’s not just cantankerous, he’s vindictive. He turns down his nephew’s annual Christmas soiree, and visitors collecting for charity. He disparages the impoverished, as if they were trying to rob him. That very Christmas Eve, he settles in to his glacial, dreadful lodgings, after tea and soup provided by Mrs. Dilber. As usual his manners are impeccable. He climbs into bed, only to be greeted by his deceased partner, Bob Marley.

Marley bewails his wasted existence, forfeiting his humanity for coin and acquisition. He wears the chains he forged in life, oblivious to the marvels of we poor, flawed mortals caring for each other. Scrooge dismisses Marley’s mission to warn him from the same fate. As far as he’s concerned, the ghoulish apparition could be a piece of undigested beef. Ebenezer Scrooge is spiritually wounded. One Christmas he loses Fan (his beloved sister) and years later, Belle (his fiancee) breaks up with him. It’s perfectly understandable that Scrooge has conflated trauma with yuletide merriment, subsequently feeling nothing but resentment and cynicism.

Three more ghosts appear, beckoned by the mournful toll of Big Ben. The Ghost of Christmas Past, The Ghost of Christmas Present, and The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. First he sees Mama, in an exquisite gown of periwinkle blue. She shimmers with a radiant, golden nimbus, voice more delicate than the breath of mercy. She takes him to witness past exuberance and disappointment. Regret and grace. He is in the midst, the others but shadows, unaware of his presence. Time and again he sees missed opportunities to salve the misery of others. The remaining ghosts evoke and evince levity and warmth. They force him to confront the pain and despair that he’s spread.

As many of you know, The Dallas Theater Center’s production of Christmas Carol is an annual event. It’s a difficult, demanding project, with many plates spinning at the same time. Director Alex Organ manages to keep the melodrama without pushing our buttons. Any narrative set during Christmas is already flirting with purple content and mawkish manipulation. It seems the most emotionally charged episodes benefit from a bit of detachment, as we certainly do not need any prompting.

The gloomy, menacing set forged from a nightmare of The Industrial Age suggests the lack of compassion, the abysmal eclipse of humans, overshadowed by machine. The contrast between the bliss of convivial celebration, and unforgiving imperative is thrown into high relief. The grimy, black iron of the failure of conscience only makes the dazzling colors stand out. The dances and flirting and giggling and embracing and kisses and delightful songs and food prepared gladness and quintessential light are positively overwhelming. They pop. They defy rapacious self-interest.

Ebenezer Scrooge is balanced with kindness and understanding. We see his worst moments, but along the way, the scintillating memories that transport him. The moments when glee grabs hold, and he capers and bounces in that white nightshirt and funnel cap, in sheer, forgotten delight. We are spontaneously giddy. We marvel at the gift of redemption.

The Dallas Theater Center presents A Christmas Carol, playing November 25th-December 24^th, 2022. Dee & Charles Wyly Theatre, 2400 Flora Street, Dallas, TX 75201. (214) 522-8499. dallastheatercenter.org