Make Room for Daddy: Fair Assembly’s cunning, disconsolate Lear

King Lear commences with a ceremony. Lear is growing long in the tooth, and weary of managing his virtually endless territory. Roughly, it is divided into three parcels of land. Subsequently, his three daughters: Goneril, Regan and Cordelia have been summoned to express the extent of their adulation. This will affect his final decision (there and then) as to who gets what. Usually this kind of allotment is declared posthumously. Perhaps Lear could use some recognition and show of affection from his progeny. Goneril and Regan step into the limelight (each in her turn) and delivers her shtick.

Cordelia, however, takes a different approach. I love you as much as any daughter should. No more, no less. She might have said something like: I will always be your daughter, and I cherish that. We ponder which is more egregious. The crassness of a love contest, or Cordelia’s choice of words. Perhaps Cordelia refuses to lay it on thick, wanting no part of this charade. Lear is gobsmacked. Utterly enraged and heartbroken. He splits his kingdom into two parts, for Regan and Goneril, disowns Cordelia and kicks her to the curb.

Next the two elder sisters enact a coup d’etat, with the help of their husbands. They overthrow Lear, leaving him to wander, wounded in despair. Court jesters speak truth to monarchs, disguising their painful observations in the veneer of satire. Lear’s Fool, capering and singing and sneaking in the jabs, does her part to help the other shoe drop. Cordelia raises an army (she, too is married) coming to the rescue of her bedraggled, despondent dad. Throughout his ordeal, Lear’s been stripped of all dignity, humbled beyond imagining, battered by the elements, alone and lonely. When Cordelia appears, overcome by their great love, they embrace and weep and forgive. It’s a deeply touching moment.

At the hub of this broken wheel, waits the question. What was King Lear thinking? Do great men stage tributes to themselves? Treat love like a quantifiable asset? Has vanity eclipsed reason? Or his humanity? Surely pitting his daughters against each other, was grotesque and unthinkable. There’s strong indication that Cordelia is the favorite, but why shame Regan and Goneril?

Throughout King Lear, the familial dangers of implosion, vexation and resentment, come up over and again. The brothers Edgar and Edmund, alienated by Edmund’s illegitimacy.  They might have been great friends, but Edmund can’t see past it. Goneril and Regan annihilating, punishing their father. These aren’t squabbles and feuds. This is humiliation, and torture and vindictiveness. It’s as if Lear’s lapse in judgment has brought out the worst in everyone (With a few noteworthy exceptions). As Solomon said: He that troubleth his own house, shall inherit the wind.

Dennis Raveneau has performed in numerous venues, around the Metroplex. His versatility a grace to the audience. His patrician bearing an undeniably perfect fit for King Lear. He doesn’t just act regal, he is. Never haughty, never arrogant, never pompous. Even as he is authoritative, bellicose, commanding, his vulnerability is unmistakable. In the scenes where Lear is reduced to frailty and indigency. Subjected to the caterwauling elements. His peerage mocked by a crown of wildflowers. We, too are brought to our knees. It’s as if the part were written for Raveneau.

Fair Assembly’s crisp, intelligent production, was somber and wrenching. Their new space at The Latino Cultural Center Black Box, felt capacious yet personal. The cast of fifteen (not including ensemble) was striking in their understated mien. Strong emotion, yet cool to the touch. Intuitive and cunning. Whether cruel or caring, clownish or predatory, sharp or clueless, each actor was poised, with their head in the game.

Fair Assembly presented King Lear from August 8th-17th, 2024. Latino Cultural Center: Blackbox. 2600 Live Oak Street, Dallas, TX 75204. 402-730-2708. www.fairassembly.com

Down the Rabbit Hole: Ochre House’s cuddly, disturbing Daddy’s Rabbits

 

Oh, the twisted, mischievous, chilling misadventure that awaits us, at The Ochre House. The narratives vary greatly, you never know what you’re going to see. It might be a satire on a Children’s Show, or Long Day’s Journey into Night. It might be an exploration of the lives of genius artists like William S. Burroughs, Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo, Allen Ginsberg. You might witness heart-thumping flamenco, or flamboyant costume design. It’s a technicolor soup of lemon drops and marshmallow and tarragon and anisette and chutney and Garam Masala and fig and goat bones….Most everything onstage might be alive. Animate objects. Enormous puppets. Ochre House wants to play. It wants you to chuckle. It wants you to sing loud. It wants to repulse you. It wants to kiss you. It invites you to the enchanted realm of the flagrant mind.

Daddy’s Rabbits opens with two brothers, Boney and Hairy, slapping around Nance, telling her: That didn’t hurt. That didn’t hurt. After each blow. She is pretty, and wears the apparel of an independent, intrepid woman. She manages to escape. After blackout, the story continues with Mommy, Daddy, the two brothers (more like mouth breathers) and Isadorra, tenant of a rented room. In a fairly roomy cage, are three rabbits. Strict instructions apply to our furry friends. Don’t get too close. Don’t feed them. For the love of Christ, don’t open the door! Fu, Pete, and Skip are not like other evocations of “rabbit”. Not like Bugs or Brer or Cottontail, though the names ring a bell. They look like they might break into your house. Hang out on the corner. Tear into your quaint vegetable garden.

Daddy is something of a clothes horse, with goggly, virile shades and velvet corduroy trousers. He keeps rewarding everybody for compliance, with dollar bills. It’s like Pavlov. Mommy wears the recognizable, cheerful shifts, so popular in the 60’s. Everything she says, has this kind of wry, vaguely salacious tone. Isadorra (a tribute to the visionary dancer?) dresses with stylish, exotic clothes. She might be a seductress, or fortune teller, or both. Nance feels a bit like Indiana Jones. Clearheaded, forthright, fearless. Boney and Hairy are clods who walk in sync, say repugnant things and never change their ugly clothes.

Daddy’s Rabbits (writer, Director) Carla Parker’s very, very sharp, enigmatic spoof on the nuclear family (and, I’m thinking, racism) is somber and hilarious. The family Nance (and we) find ourselves thrown into, is insulated, crass, upbeat, and devious. Or clueless? They have rules to guide them, ridiculous though they may be. They worship hearth and home, but no grasp of how that works. Like praying to an acorn squash. The rabbits are docile, but perhaps just inches from anarchy. The brothers are criminal and degenerate. The dad is the father but not a patriarch. Parker has created a family very comfortable with the preposterous. All they need is their Bread and Circuses.

Don’t miss out! It’s closing weekend for Daddy’s Rabbits!

Daddy’s Rabbits plays August 10th-31st, 2024, at The Ochre House. 825 Exposition, Dallas, TX . 214-826-6273 ochrehousetheater.org

“Once I had a secret love…” Uptown’s excruciating, brilliant : The Boys in the Band

 

In 1968, in a small, off-Broadway theater, history was made. Mart Crowley’s The Boys in the Band premiered: a drama exploring the lives of queer men who have gathered to celebrate their friend, Harold’s birthday. Before that, gay characters only appeared on the stage for purposes of derision and cheap laughs. Mart Crowley had penned a watershed. Whatever the ups and downs of the show itself, the American Theatre Canon would be forever changed.

Michael is hosting the festivities from his duplex in the Upper East Side. When The Boys in the Band opens he and Donald (Caddo Lindsey) are catching up. A strange phone call comes from Alan, Michael’s erstwhile college roommate. The poor guy is in tears, and more or less insists on crashing the party. The guests arrive: Emory (Ethan Rodriquez Mullins) Nellie and extravagant. Hank and Larry: a couple with an open “marriage.” Hank (Ian Mead Moore) wears a business suit and Larry (Nick Marchetti) a colorful shirt (barely buttoned) and long, curly mane. Bernard (Quintin Jones, Jr) is the only guest of color. Alan, the surprise guest is the only straight guy, and wears a tuxedo. Cowboy (Noah Randall) is a gift for Harold. He is, of course dressed like a cowboy. Gorgeous, sweet, but maybe not so terribly bright.

Harold (Ryan Maffei) is an entity unto himself. He wears a hat dipped stylishly low, and tinted glasses that were in fashion at the time. His rage is barely concealed, but it is restrained. His rapacious wit, his vitriol, often evinces in truly inspired jabs and jibes. Like the others he’s wounded, but has no discretion, when expressing the result. He has a regal bearing, often pawing at the others, like a distracted cat. He has become The Truth Teller, in a tribe that mostly mentions their abuse in ironic, offhanded ways.

When Alan (Seth Paden) catches a moment to speak to Michael (Clayton Younkin) in private, he still hasn’t quite caught on to the other guests. When he describes Emory as “… a butterfly in heat,” the play takes a powerful turn. Alan doesn’t get it, yet, but in this moment, becomes every straight, white, privileged, Protestant who’s bullied, abused, mocked and degraded these men. Their sublime refuge has been poisoned by an interloper. When he slugs Emory, he doesn’t see how egregious this is. He’s acting out the hateful behavior these friends have been subjected to, probably since childhood.

As events regress, Michael concocts a “party game” where each guest must phone another man he loved deeply, but could never tell. More fearless, more points. As each guest takes his turn (under duress) Michael goads, confronting them with their backstory. He doesn’t necessarily know, but he’s a queer man, gathering with his Queer Tribe. All their stories are different, but there’s a common truth, shared and grieved. We’re appalled how he pushes and pushes, the pain he’s evoking is unmistakable. Perhaps if he can get them to articulate their excruciation, it will lose power?

Crowley’s The Boys in the Band has ignited controversy in the recent past. Critics point out that we’ve moved past this time, where self-loathing and terror of discovery plagued the queer community, and hate crimes were a given. It would be preposterous to ignore the progress we’ve made, sometimes by quantum leaps. That being said: 1. It would be criminal to deny recognition to our forefathers, who persisted in a climate of persecution and a nasty taste for the unconscionable. 2. It verges on the disingenuous and naive to ignore that here, in Amerika, and around the globe, there are still those among us, who are attacked and brutalized. 3. One need only turn on the news to see how rabidly the hoards still howl to drag us back to the Dark Ages.

I was utterly overwhelmed by the performance of this brilliant, ensemble cast. For the unbelievably difficult task they must embrace nightly, bravely. The focus and vulnerability that theatre demands. Never before have I witnessed an audience so shocked, and terribly, terribly quiet. Actors must summon their most raw and genuine core and share it with the strangers on the other side of the footlights. And how exquisite the marvels these Boys in the Band bring. It is phenomenal.

Uptown Players presents The Boys in the Band, playing through August 25th, 2024. Kalita Humphreys Theater. 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-219-2718. uptownplayers.org

Wedding Bell Blues: RTC’S One Slight Hitch

Some excellent films and shows (The Philadelphia Story, Move Over Darling, My Favorite Wife) begin with a similar premise. I Close to the wedding day, an erstwhile spouse of the betrothed shows up. Making for a profoundly awkward situation. RTC’s production of Lewis Black’s One Slight Hitch, fits quite nicely,

It’s 11 AM on Courtney Coleman’s wedding day. Her parents, Doc and Delia, are dealing in their own, particular ways. Doc is unflappable, and Delia’s having a slow meltdown. She and Doc were married during wartime (and sadly) Delia was denied the exquisite wedding, so many women dream of. Not unreasonably, perhaps, she hopes to resolve the past by putting everything she has into Courtney’s wedding. Her two sisters, PB and Melanie are there, and the caterers have just started arriving.

Without warning, Ryan, Courtney’s ex-husband, shows up at the front door. He’s been hitchhiking, and decides to drop by. Seeing as he was just in the neighborhood. Ryan is the quintessential surfer boy. Adorable, innocuous, metaphysical. Needless to say, his timing couldn’t be worse. The family all know and like him, but he’s like the spaniel who jumps in bed, when you’re having sex. He throws his rancid clothes in the laundry and takes advantage of the opportunity for a shower. Courtney is enraged to see him, but maybe not too much. Can they send him on his way, before Harper (the groom) arrives?

Playwright Lewis Black has a few tricks in his deck of cards. The primitive and utterly inappropriate fertility idol. A bad omen to be sure. PB, the daughter who skates indoors, submerged in her Walkman. Ryan the unwelcome, welcome guest, walking around in a towel. The future In-Laws they must stall and ultimately chase away. Harper the more sophisticated, articulate groom.

These are not only mishaps, they’re metaphors. The spouse who’s everything the other isn’t. The delicate and flawless vase, that we all know is going to break. TheShrimp BoatsThe daughters who aren’t worried about the event, because it’s not their problem. The miniature bride and groom, besmirched in frosting. It’s as if the cosmos is orchestrating all the elements in conjunction with the “cursed” marriage.

One Slight Hitch felt low-key and subtle. More about situation than dialogue. When the graphic statues arrive, we laugh because they’re something of a shock, not necessarily from character response. When we see poor Delia trying to save the sinking ship, she’s less frantic than perplexed. We know almost from the beginning the wedding is doomed. As one shoe drops after another, the emphasis seems to be the irony. You could make a case for all humor turning on irony, some is simply more resigned than surprised. One Slight Hitch feels more like Dorothy Parker than Fanny Brice.

Special thanks to RTC for letting me attend at the end of the run.

Richardson Theatre Centre presented One Slight Hitch, July 12th-28th, 2024. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, TX 75080. 972-699-1130

“I married my wife in the month of June…” RTC’S One Slight Hitch

 

Some excellent films and shows (The Philadelphia Story, Move Over Darling, My Favorite Wife) begin with a similar premise. I Close to the wedding day, an erstwhile spouse of the betrothed shows up. Making for a profoundly awkward situation. RTC’s production of Lewis Black’s One Slight Hitch, fits quite nicely.

It’s 11 AM on Courtney Coleman’s wedding day. Her parents, Doc and Delia, are dealing in their own, particular ways. Doc is unflappable, and Delia’s having a slow meltdown. She and Doc were married during wartime (and sadly) Delia was denied the exquisite wedding, so many women dream of. Not unreasonably, perhaps, she hopes to resolve the past by putting everything she has into Courtney’s wedding. Her two sisters, PB and Melanie are there, and the caterers have just started arriving.

Without warning, Ryan, Courtney’s ex-husband, shows up at the front door. He’s been hitchhiking, and decides to drop by. Seeing as he was just in the neighborhood. Ryan is the quintessential surfer boy. Adorable, innocuous, metaphysical. Needless to say, his timing couldn’t be worse. The family all know and like him, but he’s like the spaniel who jumps in bed, when you’re having sex. He throws his rancid clothes in the laundry and takes advantage of the opportunity for a shower. Courtney is enraged to see him, but maybe not too much. Can they send him on his way, before Harper (the groom) arrives?

Playwright Lewis Black has a few tricks in his deck of cards. The primitive and utterly inappropriate fertility idol. A bad omen to be sure. PB, the daughter who skates indoors, submerged in her Walkman. Ryan the unwelcome, welcome guest, walking around in a towel. The future In-Laws they must stall and ultimately chase away. Harper the more sophisticated, articulate groom.

These are not only mishaps, they’re metaphors. The spouse who’s everything the other isn’t. The delicate and flawless vase, that we all know is going to break. Shrimp Boats left out in the sun. The daughters who aren’t worried about the event, because it’s not their problem. The miniature bride and groom, besmirched in frosting. It’s as if the cosmos is orchestrating all the elements in conjunction with the “cursed” marriage.

One Slight Hitch felt low-key and subtle. More about situation than dialogue. When the graphic statues arrive, we laugh because they’re something of a shock, not necessarily from character response. When we see poor Delia trying to save the sinking ship, she’s less frantic than perplexed. We know almost from the beginning the wedding is doomed. As one shoe drops after another, the emphasis seems to be the irony. You could make a case for all humor turning on irony, some is simply more resigned than surprised. One Slight Hitch feels more like Dorothy Parker than Fanny Brice.

Special thanks to RTC for letting me attend at the end of the run.

Richardson Theatre Centre presented One Slight Hitch, July 12th-28th, 2024. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, TX 75080. 972-699-1130

On the Lone Prairie: Classics Theatre Project’s astonishing True West

Austin is a screenwriter, house-sitting for his mother, on a trip to Alaska. In Southern California, not far from Los Angeles, the house is retro, reminiscent of domiciles from the 40’s and 50’s. The kitchen is bright, cozy and welcoming. Austin (Joey Folsom) is working on a script and conversing (more or less) with his brother Lee (Clay Yocum). Lee is hotheaded, fierce, with a hair-trigger temper. Would you like some breakfast? Shouting: Fuck you! I can do it myself. Lee has been living in the desert and returns to their erstwhile home, discovering mother isn’t there. Austin is hospitable, despite Lee’s bellicose swagger. They are brothers after all. Lee discovers Austin is expecting Saul (Michael Miller) his agent, who’s excited about his current screenplay. Austin asks Lee (politely) to make himself scarce, relinquishing access to his car keys. Somehow Lee manages to insinuate himself into the conversation. Playing golf the next day, Lee dazzles Saul with his informal “pitch”, behind Austin’s back.

You might say that Austin is Ego to Lee’s Id. Austin is cerebral. Lee is visceral. Austin is reasonable and polite, Lee is obnoxious and contentious. You could also compare them to Abel (Austin) and Cain (Lee). Austin has infinite patience for Lee’s endless rage, tirades and scorn.

He endures him but never corrects him. The longer we watch, the more we wonder why Austin wasn’t named Lee, and Lee, Austin. It’s as if each was taken from the other. As the plot unfolds, we see them trade places. When Lee tries to succeed as an author, and Austin tries to prove himself as a thief; neither of them has it solved. Lee needs Austin’s literacy and polish and Austin aches for the raw exhilaration of desperation. They aren’t so much different, as they are split. Polarized.

True West (by Sam Shepard) considers the myth of the cowboy west. The romantic notion that getting by on one’s wits (without pretense of grace or sophistication) is more authentic. Intellectualism is just snobbery, and civility a lie. Shepard exposes the flaws in this misconception. He reveals the fear behind violence. Lee gets Saul’s attention by describing his life in such explosive, primitive terms. He heaves a bomb right through the window of The Ladies Afternoon Bridge Club. The spirit of culture is dull. The spirit of the West is destitute.

I’ve been fortunate to see True West 3-4 times, over the years. Each production had its strengths. Thanks to the masterful, meticulous direction of Terry Martin, The Classics Theatre Project’s True West is one of the most solid, intuitive, jarring, tempestuous dramas I have witnessed. It waits and lurks just offstage. It grabs you by the lapels and shakes you. Hard. This is brilliant theatre.

Accolades to this diligent, dedicated, intrepid cast: Joey Folsom (Austin) Clay Yocum (Lee) Michael Miller (Saul) Allyn Carrell (Mom).

The Classics Theatre Project Presents: True West, playing July 12th –August 24th, 2024. Stone Cottage in Addison. 15650 Addison Rd, Addison, TX 75001. (214) 923-3619. tctpdfw@gmail.com. theclassicstheatreproject.com

“Marry me a little…” Pocket Sandwich Theatre’s Four Weddings and an Elvis

Sandy manages a Wedding Chapel, it seems, single-handedly. Wedding Chapels (as we all know) are a staple of Las Vegas culture. Perhaps the freewheeling intoxication and high spirits (as it were) of gambling, encourages impulsive choices. It’s impressive, when you consider all the details. The ceremony fee is not excessive, it’s the amenities that get you. Who knew you could book a helicopter, tape a video, or get Elvis to preside? Throughout her stint as a (thrice divorced) provider of happiness, Sandy has seen a lot, and learned a lot. When she says she can spot the marriages that will tank immediately, she seems completely credible.

First we see Bev and Stan. When Bev’s husband left her for Stan’s wife, and Stan’s wife left him Bev’s husband, they resolved to wed for retribution. Then Stan decides to call their erstwhile spouses, to rub it in their faces. Vanessa and Bryce are television stars whose careers have seen better days. There was a time when the paparazzi followed them day and night. Now (as they say) they couldn’t get arrested. Next are Fiona and Marvin. Fiona is tough, snappy and contentious. She’s always got her dukes in the air. Marvin is a computer whiz. Terribly shy and undeniably cerebral. But somehow, like Nichols and May, they seem the perfect fit.

Playwright Nancy Frick has concocted an ingenious premise. Like Neil Simon she knows how to make the most of the improbable, sparking hilarity while piquing our humanity. Each couple has a blind spot or difficulty. I am a huge fan of Pocket Sandwich’s notorious “popcorn tossers”, but Four Weddings and an Elvis was every bit as entertaining. Just on a different level. It was introspective, eccentric, sagacious, chaotic. It reminded me of Love, American Style, but more intelligent.

Something I’ve always adored about Pocket Sandwich Theatre, is button down, buoyant, enthusiastic playfulness, both on and offstage. Apart from featuring the occasional drama, there’s a fizzy, chipper, careless feeling that just makes you smile with your heart. Waiters, waitresses, band, performers, crew. We’re all here for a great evening. During the interval, Elvis took questions, and sang Happy Birthday to guests. Where else could you find that, besides Pocket Sandwich Theatre?

Don’t miss PST’s current comedy: Herbitts Wizards, and Borks, Oh My! Playing July 5th-August 24th, 2024.

Pocket Sandwich Theatre presented Four Weddings and an Elvis May 24th, 2024, and closed June 22nd, 2024. Downtown Carrollton Square, 1104 S. Elm Street, Carrollton, Texas 75006. pst@dallas.net214-821-1860.

Teach your children well: Uptown’s chipper, spunky Prom

Emma Nolan lives in Edgewater, Indiana, a provincial town where she attends James Madison High School. She wants to take her girlfriend, Alyssa Greene, to the dance. Despite widespread recognition and acceptance of the Queer Community, parents and School Board members have forbidden this, and news has reached the media. Alyssa and Emma are subjected to scorn, mockery, and shade.

Meanwhile, Barry and Dee Dee have just suffered a traumatic blow to their egos. Their opening night performance of Eleanor (a musical about Eleanor Roosevelt) was skewered by the New York critics, and they’re in a panic. Brainstorming with their friends: Angi, Trent, and

(their agent) Sheldon, they come across Emma’s story of social injustice, and resolve to inject themselves into the predicament. They are deeply, truly moved for Emma, and sincerely hope the publicity will bolster their flatlining careers.

Their motives are not exactly altruistic, but they make a good faith effort. There are press conferences, decrees by the governor, town hall meetings, and scuffling attorneys. Trent, Sheldon, Dee Dee, Barry and Angi show up with protest signs, bull horns and vehement denunciations. Always when the paparazzi is there. It’s easy to see the grownups are advancing their own ideologies. They don’t want to be fair, they just want what they want. Emma is almost an afterthought.

Written and composed by Chad Beguelin, Bob Martin and Matthew Sklar, The Prom is a clever musical: insider theatre gags, solid jokes, a smattering of pathos, painful personal epiphanies, pleasant songs both gripping and light. Perhaps something of a mashup of It’s Only a Play and Inherit the Wind. The Prom takes what might have been intense and tumultuous, and being a comedy, doesn’t go there. It doesn’t dip everything in corn syrup either. It’s frank. It’s well-crafted. The good guys win and the surprising solution doesn’t go by the numbers. The LGBTQ Community (is painfully aware) we’re not yet out of the woods. That being said, The Prom will lift you up, and coax the sniffles. Seeing the teens (and their parents) in the audience, with relieved smiles and tears in their eyes. It was definitely worth the trip.

(They could use handsome valet or two.)

Uptown Players presents The Prom, playing July 12th-28th, 2024. Kalita Humphreys Theater. 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-219-2718. uptownplayers.org

What’s New Pussycat? Second Thought Theatre’s Wink

Sophie and Gregor are a married couple who share a home and a psychiatrist, perhaps ill-advisedly. His name is Dr. Frans. They see him separately, without guessing his advice may leave something to be desired. Now, an unbalanced therapist is not necessarily a bad one, but when he says to shove their emotions down, we might wonder. You’d think this would be the last goal you’d be aiming for. You don’t heal a problem by ignoring it.

Gregor confides that he has killed Wink, a scruffy, malodorous cat Sophie rescued. But before he buried Wink, Gregor skinned him. Dr. Frans acknowledges the transgression and dismisses it. Of course, Gregor lies to Sophie, who is distraught. In the meantime, Wink (our cat) miraculously rises from the dead. Was he accidentally buried alive, or did Gregor wish to torture him further? Whatever the explanation, playwright Jen Silverman imbues the event with enigma and suggestions of the metaphysical. Wink tracks down Dr. Frans and rocks his world. The more one learns about the other, the more beguiled.

A prevailing notion regarding sexuality, humanity and romance is a catch. Some might contend that the most delectable, intense sex is the opposite of the formal, the civilized. But if we dispense with good manners, if we unleash the id (if you will) how far is too far? Some may piss or thrash or humiliate, but when do we cross the line? (Consider Damage by Josephine Hart or Steps by Jerzy Kosinski.) Both Sophie and Gregor speak wistfully of their courtship, laden with tenderness and surprise, but now it seems the only thing left is deception and estrangement.

It may be too late to call it a trend, but it’s not unusual to see plays that begin as comedy (in this case sly, shadowy satire) and gradually move into the realm of anger and despair. Silverman, it seems, loves to play. In the best sense. She may push a bit to make a point, but it’s a venial sin. Wink is perhaps the perfect metaphor for unapologetic, pragmatic impulse. He may be amoral, but neither is he vindictive or conflicted. Wink is a spectacular circus of alpha rage, savagery, regret, adoration, chaos: flouting the edge of the abyss. A mashup of romance, bestiality and despondency.

Second Thought Theatre presents Wink, playing June 26th-July 13th, 2024. 3400 Blackburn St. Dallas, TX 75219. (214) 897-3091. secondthoughttheatre.com

You’ll change yer tune soon enough, me proud beauty. T3’s Pirates of Penzance

Frederic has completed his indentured service as a crew-member of the notorious Pirates of Penzance, and (with some regret) must move on. He has enjoyed his stint immeasurably, but presently, his erstwhile companions must become adversaries. He gives them a few tactful notes on pirating (pirateship?). For example, word has spread that they will spare anyone who finds themselves an orphan (they themselves being orphans). As it happens, all their abductees are orphans. Afterward, he nearly crosses paths with some dainty sisters, but turns away, lest he accidentally gaze while they are changing clothes. Then Mabel appears. She is clearly the most beautiful of all the sisters, and sets upon Frederic as a lost soul (Poor Wandering One). The result is, in a word, kismet. Things being what they are, the rest of the pirates, wish to marry the remaining sisters. Complications continue to emerge.

Gilbert and Sullivan, masters of comic operetta, are merry, whimsical, tongue-in-cheek, and quite adept at applying the grandiose to the humble. As we might expect from the creators of The HMS Pinafore and The Mikado. A sort of hybrid between a musical revue and spectacular nonsense. Imagine when a child presents his (or her) crayon drawing to proud parents who ceremoniously tape the picture to the refrigerator. Consider the adult version of that. Except the artist knows perfectly well that WE know perfectly well, that its preposterous to make such a fuss over the trivial and/or mediocre. And this example of the hyperbolic is a kind of satire. The magic of elaborate pomp. At least in the U.K.

The Pirates of Penzance invites us (like Oscar Wilde) to chuckle at the pretentions of British social order. Perhaps the characters participate in-self deprecation without realizing. Like the most brilliant comedies there are layers. The buccaneers might have been plucked from Peter Pan, the sisters from stories of nymphs and sprites. The narcissistic Modern Major General an evocation of the stalwart and ingenious. Frederic and Mabel are smitten with each other, but we cannot imagine them in the throes of gloriously messy passion.

Three things (or more) happen when when G & S declare it’s playtime. The rituals and pageantry of grown-ups are shown up for their ridiculousness. The actors give silliness that irreplaceable “mature” spin. No one loves to romp and hop and giggle and sing and salute like adults. Like water to the thirsty. Like balloons to the despondent. Like reptiles to the bored.

Theatre 3’s production of The Pirates of Penzance is buoyant, sly, deadpan and giddy. The cast moves with poise and loft. How can we resist this ticklish, lush, high-spirited fanciful ride? The precision, the raucousness, the shameless, disingenous lilt?

I wish there had been more pirates.

Theatre 3 presents The Pirates of Penzance, playing June 13th -July 14th, 2024 (Bastille Day) 2688 LaClede Street, Suite 120, Dallas Texas 75201. 214 871-3300. theatre3dallas.com