Author: christophersoden@sbcglobal.net

The Book of Gabe: The angel Gabriel enters the stage wearing a black suit and small wings. He grabs the mic stand like a standup comic. His monologue has that feel. He gives us his version of the creation story. God defecating, Lucifer rejected, the planet Earth as God’s paean to Himself. Gabriel disabuses us of any notion that The Eternal Father has tender feelings for his creation. Isaac Young wrote and performs this piece. Percolating with rage, overcome by isolation, suffused with disappointment. Much of it isn’t funny, but I suspect Mr. Young (a brilliant entertainer) is saying that it can’t be. Irony is the impetus behind a lot of humor, but it’s almost as if Gabe is staving off a fit of apoplexy. The anger threatens to consume him. This angel who wears, what? A mortician’s suit and feathers? He plays taps for hope in the Divine or unfathomable grace that is there for the asking. You’d have to be crazy to miss the connection between Young’s content and the pervasive truculence, panic, mendacity and despotism we see gaining traction. The Book of Gabe is compelling, touching, disquieting. I’m not sure it’s quite there yet, but Isaac Young has electricity, and he’s one to watch.

Just Girly Things: Danielle Georgiou has a gift for placing dance in context that feels organic, less artificial. In The Show About Men, the guys wore regular clothes, danced with grace and energy, and shared anecdotes that exemplified male issues. In Just Girly Things, Georgiou creates a sitcom spoof of sorts, in which the subjugation of women emerges naturally from the material. All the characters are spunky and cheerful, but they’re ensconced in rigid cultural imperatives, participating without question or comprehension. When Lizzy’s boyfriend realizes he’s gay, consideration for her feelings are barely acknowledged. Her hesitation to sacrifice a career for the sake of another boyfriend is met with bewilderment. The dance and choreography is integral to narrative and the attitudes that lionize men and marginalize women, so habitual they verge on the systemic. Georgiou and co-writers Ruben Carranzanna and Justin Locklear have woven a witty, intelligent, insightful piece that shows how women are conditioned to be self-effacing, self-sabotaging, and self-deprecating.

Bible Women (A Cycle of Songs) : is a revue, depicting the lives of female Biblical heroes such as Ruth, Esther, Deborah and Miriam, among others. The all-female singers differ in age and range, each takes a turn in sharing the story of a particular lady, and her impact on the community. They give scriptural narrative a bit of bounce and come hither, which certainly doesn’t hurt. The best part, though, without a doubt, are the songs, which they leap into with gusto and genuine passion. There’s a skillful arrangement of various songs: torchy or upbeat, defiant or melancholy. The thematic thread (as you might have guessed) is the complicated, beguiling and tumultuous lives of these women, forced by extreme circumstances to find their nerve and valor. Bible Women captures splendid occasions of triumph, warmth, grief and exuberance, mixing solo with choral pieces, immersing us in spirited vocals without getting preachy or pious. Amen to that.

Where Do I Sit?: has a nostalgic, worldly, fanciful way about it. Dick Monday, Shawn Patrello and Tiffany Monday are three clowns who have traveled the world, and studied the finer points of their vocation. They wear the threads of more subtle clowns, rather than the outlandish costumes we so often see. Like other clowns, they are silly, childish, playful, madcap and whimsical. What makes these three of The New York Goofs so sublime is the skillful, precise expression of their craft. The gimmicks they engage (if any) are simple. A horn, maybe, a drum, a phonograph. They have no need for elaborate props or mechanisms. The chefs of The Cordon Bleu can make a phenomenal omelet from three eggs and nothing else. The sorcery that Patrello and the Mondays wield requires ittle embellishment. Only experience, timing, focus and imagination. And that they have to spare.

The Festival of Independent Theatres plays July 13^th through August 4^th, 2018, at The Bath House Cultural Center. 521 East Lawther Drive, Dallas, Texas 75218. (800) 617-6904. www.festivalofindependenttheatres.org

20^th Annual Festival of Independent Theatres

Landscape: Pinter so often deals in the detached and obtuse, the detailed rumination. Beth sits on one chair, Duff, another. Apart from one another. Each delivers an extended monologue. Beth describes wandering the beach asking various men if they’d like to have a baby (with her?) . Duff recalls a trip to the park when he sought shelter from a cloudburst, where he watched a young couple get soaked. Each character’s anecdote culminates in a visit to a pub, where their paths may or may not have intersected. Of course the way they are placed on the stage inclines us to create a connection between the two, whether one exists or not. Perhaps the counterpoint puts Duff and Beth’s isolation in high relief. Whay constitutes a couple, or even a friendship? Landscape refers to the content of each monologue, both of which express a kind of aching. A longing for something. You might say Pinter has a penchant for dialogue that dances around the periphery, without letting the characters speak the personal truth behind their words. If you told a friend about your dog’s illness, how much might you reveal of your connection to the world, your anger, your despair, without that intention? Somehow Pinter could make you weep, if only by sharing the recipe for shortbread. Director Susan Sargeant, Van Quattro, and Moira Wilson have knocked this out of the park.

Suckers: playwright Devin Berg has crafted a pensive comedy exploring the nature of romance and life’s purpose. Jane, Holden, Alex and Daisy are friends, Daisy and Alex get married, the four gravitate towards one another, connecting in one way or another, while pondering the underlying emotions that inform their choices and behavior. No one seems to be where they want to be or partnered as they’d wish. Berg uses their situation as a springboard to elucidate darker, deeper core issues, and perhaps nudge the cogs and wheels in our brain. It’s quite engaging, but not altogether clear how much Suckers clarifies or actualizes the salient question: does destiny preclude intelligent decisions? Should intuition go before intellect? The cast performances (Natalie Hope Johnson, Josh Bangle, Matthew Allan Holmes, Cameron Casey) are fresh, intriguing and spontaneous.

The Tragical Farce of Jimmy Pine: Playwright Ben Schroth delivers an absorbing, tongue-in-cheek spin on Pinocchio, setting it in the dystopian future of 2045. Jimmy is a “synthetic” sex worker who succumbs to acts undeniably degrading, with a chipper smile. Jimmy wants to be a real boy, but his devotees (including his pimp) roll their eyes, and assure him humanity is a far cry from his idealized notions. Their conflict of interest, of course, doesn’t mean their wrong. Like Rabe and Albee, Schroth brings an erudite, absurd (which is not to say Absurdist) feel to the tawdry, luring us into subtext, and more cosmic considerations. Imagine Gravity’s Rainbow, through the lens of Kukla, Fran and Ollie. When a client tells Jimmy he’s into scat, and Jimmy responds with all the enthusiasm of an Eagle Scout, you chuckle, but we should be distraught. Schroth has mastered the art of fierce, nonchalant comedy that teeters on the cusp between hilarity and grief.

BruNO and lOUie: Jeffrey Colangelo (Director of Prism Movement Theatre) fashioned this comedic pantomime for two, but calling Bruno and Louie a mime show is like calling Superman a guy in a cape. It’s accurate, and it’s not. Louie and Bruno are buddies, and they seek the rarer air of celebrity and wealth.Rafael Tamayo and Omar Padilla have such poise and grace, such ease and feel for what tickles and sets us free to break out in laughter. They take you out of your head. They squash misery with aplomb. They pull “volunteers” from the audience and create merriment. The best physical farce is like Country Music, if its good enough, it transcends the genre.PM is your last chance Bruno and Louie takes us to the realm of genius, where the performers don’t just know what to do, it’s in their bones. Tonight, at 8 PM is your last chance. Get drenched in glee.

The Festival of Independent Theatres plays July 13^th through August 4^th, 2018, at The Bath House Cultural Center. 521 East Lawther Drive, Dallas, Texas 75218. (800) 617-6904. www.festivalofindependenttheatres.org

Tick (drag name Mitzi) gets a phone call from his ex-wife. They have clearly parted on good terms and she tells him it’s time he met his young son, Benji. It catches Tick off guard as all this was (as they say) another lifetime ago. He must cross the outback to make this happen, but fortuitously, he could also take advantage of a lucrative entertainment gig at a casino. He enlists his partners in crime, Adam (Felicia) and Bernadette. Adam is also a drag artist and deliciously over-the-top queen. Bernadette is a post-op transgender, with much soul, and a bit of despondency. So they rent an old bus they dub “Priscilla,” and off these intrepid three go.

Priscilla: Queen of the Desert (as you might guess from its fanciful name) is a wonderfully excessive fantasia, a giddy, intoxicating odyssey through numerous situations, contrasting the elemental, bucolic, robustly virile milieu with outrageously jubilant celebration of campy female behavior and queer transgression. Tick, Adam and Bernadette all have their baggage, naturally and much time is spent trying to reconcile that with intolerance, in-fighting and a bizarre roadtrip through the desert in a broken down bus. The musical numbers are eclectic, spirited, elaborate and surprisingly effective. From the silly to the torchy to the Busbyesque, they punch us up and seduce us with jazzy merriment. Suzi Cranford and Jessie Chavez manage the costumes, and let me tell you, you haven’t lived till you’ve seen these marvelous, extraterrestial, gushy-gorgeous frocks that put the “F” in flamboyant and the “Q” in queeny. “Dazzling” doesn’t begin to describe it. “Scintillating” doesn’t do it justice.

Priscilla would seem to be the answer to the virulent hatred, the stubborn resistance to graciousness and kindness that (while certainly not pervasive as it one was) still emerges to persecute us and make our lives miserable. It doesn’t take much for these boys to bust out the finery and bring on the defiance. Sometimes they get knocked tail over tincup, but they have each other to lick their wounds. (Now don’t go there.) Like the rest of us they have their trials and broken places and regrets. To their credit, Stephen “Spud” Murphy and Simon Phillips (the folks who adapted the film Priscilla to the stage) imbued this jaunty, crooked musical with healing humor and effusive, valiant cheerfulness. It doesn’t feel forced or contrived. It does feel spontaneous and genuine. How do they DO it? It doesn’t matter, just go.

Uptown Players presents Priscilla: Queen of the Desert, playing July 13th-29th, 2018. Kalita Humphreys Theater, 3636 Turtle Creek, Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-219-2718. uptownplayers.org

Who might have guessed that the triumphs and trials of Tracy Turnblad, would culminate into such a successful Broadway Musical? Inspired by John Waters’ essay: “The Nicest Kids In Town,” and the subsequent film, Hairspray (The Musical) with its odd mix of sunshiney progressiveness, casual crassness and disingenuous double entendre’ is strangely effective. It feels facile (almost formulaic) yet the alternating doses of optimism and skepticism strike a harmonic balance. It’s like a deadpan comic whose pitch perfect delivery makes outlandish material work. The good guys in Hairspray are certainly not saints, but they know what matters. (Even Mary Tyler Moore sometimes had a hard time being nice to Ted Baxter.) And the bad guys certainly take their turn in the barrel. Figuratively speaking.

Tracy Turnblad is a teenage girl, attending high school in Baltimore, in 1962. She does all the rebellious things bad kids do, ratting her hair, dancing to “negro music,” raising a ruckus when injustice occurs. But, as we all know, bad also means cool. She and her friend, Penny love Corny Collins (think Shindig or American Bandstand) and no one is more surprised when Tracy cinches the audition and gets a spot on the show. She becomes friends with Link Larkin, the steady boyfriend of Amber Van Tussel, the snotty queen bee of Corny Collins (produced by her mother Velma). Amber and Velma make ugly remarks about Tracy’s girth, and of course, Amber’s jealous of Link and Tracy. When Tracy joins the Teen Committee and suggests integration, it’s not met with enthusiasm. But our hero is too determined (naturally) to capitulate.

The key to Hairspray’s success is tone. It’s cheerful and optimistic, but avoids being superficial or candy-ass. If you know John Water’s oeuvre, he directed numerous bargain basement films (Pink Flamingos, Desperate Living, Female Trouble) that nonetheless had a distinct attitude to them. They gleefully flouted taste, sophistication, rudimentary quality and plausibility. Somewhere between the release of Waters’ film: Hairspray and the premiere of the musical, the content shifted. It retained much of his unapologetically creepy, risque humor, while accentuating idealism. This musical is eccentric, off-kilter and funny, but without Waters’s customary hostility. There’s just enough anarchy to entice us, without scaring off the Muggles. Hairspray (The Musical) is chipper, without feeling ridiculous.

Hairspray (The Musical) played July 7th-15th, 2018, through ATTPAC and The Dallas Theater Center at The Winspear Opera House. 2403 Flora Street, Dallas, Texas 75201. 214-880-0202. www.attpac.org

In 1891 Frank Wedekind’s Spring’s Awakening took society by storm with its fearless exploration of teenage sexuality and the misery that ignorance, trepidation, Puritanism, and outright abuse impart. Who among us cannot remember the frustration, confusion, exhilaration, pain and upheaval that comes with the strange grace of adolescence? (Personally, I was a basket case.) Sadness, upon sadness, outrage upon outrage; Wedekind indicts the cultural and systemic paradigm that repeatedly fails young people desperately in need of a compass. Quaint discomfort and Draconian punishment are met with equal contempt.

Easy to see why Spring’s Awakening has had a resurgence, considering how these grotesque dilemmas persist. Ignorance and petty, judgmental moral values continue to prevail over common sense, and honest, practical sharing of information. Recent memory evokes a Surgeon General who had the audacity to suggest mutual masturbation between lovers as a pragmatic alternative to unprotected sex. She was censured and forced to step down by idiots, who were terrified that some useful information could only lead to havoc. Comparisons to Prometheus, Margaret Sanger and Socrates only begin to suggest the reverberations.

Melchior and Moritz are close friends in the demanding world of high school education, where success and a secure, fulfilling future are too often conflated. Manhood has commenced with a vengeance and Moritz is overwhelmed by sensations and imperatives too intense to manage. Wendla is experiencing her own ordeals, profoundly bewildered by a life devoid of palpable affection and feeling in general. The other kids are struggling with additional problems, punitive abuse, molestation, dozens of emotions too dangerous to discuss with the gatekeepers of knowledge. Attempting to help his buddy, Melchior writes something of an instruction book for Moritz, with illustrations. The book gets passed around, which will mean trouble in the end. Wendla and Melchior begin experimenting, only to expose wrenching personal issues they didn’t know existed. Tangled and terrifying.

Wedekind demonstrates the triumph of the ridiculous over imperative need. Children, essentially, aching for guidance and comfort are meet with stoic indifference. The three protagonists: Wendla, Moritz and Melchior come to excruciation, all which could have been avoided if those they loved, trusted and relied upon had merely come through. Wedekind is quite ambitious as he attempts to weave a contextual universe, bringing in considerations of death, solipsism, social politics, responsibility, a world without compassion, solace, introspection or reflection. The anger and despondency expressed by the young are implacable and heartbreaking.

Rock the Cosmos. It’s no surprise that Outcry Theatre’s production of Spring’s Awakening brings Wedekind’s narrative of teenage chaos with all its ferocious, twisted, and electrifying epiphany to the stage. This feverish, focused, kinetic cast combines director Becca Johnson-Spinos’ melancholy choreography, woundedness and blind rage to reveal the pervasive stain of humanity, and how disappointing parents can be. It’s a bit to process in one sitting, but how often can you experience this astonishing, unsettling, disconsolate journey that will stand your hair on end? Get drenched in this perfect storm. Theatre at its best.

Outcry Theatre’s Spring’s Awakening plays July 6, 2018 – July 15, 2018. Addison Theatre Centre, Studio Theatre, 15650 Addison Road, Addison, TX 75001. 972-836-7206. www.outcrytheatre.com

Once a year Audacity Theatre Lab hosts the Dallas Solo Fest, offering a variety of prolonged monologues and/or performance art. We don’t know where these narratives will take us, but they never seem to lack for intelligence, wit, authenticity and invention. This time around I was able to see Cody Clark’s A Different Way of Thinking, Chris Davis’ Drunk Lion, John S. Davies’ Oh, Jesus! And John Michael’s Meatball Seance. From Audacity’s Manifesto: “Throughout the year, Audacity Theatre Lab hosts Solo Salons for regional performers to workshop works-in-progress and to foster a growing solo performance community in the North Texas Area.”

Cody Clark’s A Different Way of Thinking seeks to convey his worldview, through the lens of his place along the autism spectrum, and his talent for magic tricks. He might change the color of scarves to illustrate his perception is different from others. Mr. Clark is quite convivial, and true to other practitioners of his trade, provides amusing patter, along with sleight-of-hand, card tricks, rope tricks and personal anecdotes. He engages us with his life story: triumphs, disappointments, romance, all the while evincing with the illusionist’s craft, and an ongoing stream of gags. Mr. Clark’s approach is fresh and charismatic. He deepens our understanding of autism, without manipulation or apology.

Chris Davis’ Drunk Lion is jazzy, funny, clever and awash in frantic energy, metaphor and multiple meanings. The narrator: Chris Davis, gets drunk with a Mexican Lion, who calls him “Gringo,” and sobs over a woman who broke his heart. He works in memory, various tropes of machismo, theology and the fanciful. His Spanish sounds fluent and he has a gift for involving us in his absurd, intense universe. We consider eternal questions like: What is the Juanita Apocalypse? Is a hole really just a hole? Who is Pedro? Davis ponders a prolonged, entertaining, intriguing series of events that explore deeper questions without bogging down or being obvious. It’s as if he’s applying haiku mentality to hilarity.

John S. Davies’ Oh, Jesus! casts Jesus the Savior of Mankind as stand up-comic: “Wow! It bites to be me, cause I can get the best table at a restaurant, but how would that look?” (my own joke) Davies uses this paradigm as a method for exploring the practical demands of believing in a Supreme Being. He denounces hypocrisy, gladly acknowledges other Messiahs, such as The Buddah, Mohammad, and pauses from time to time to argue with His “Dad.” Davies has great stamina and panache, and his monologue is certainly peppered with gobs of humor. Much of the comic spark (undeniably) comes from the outrageous, but you can only push that wagon so far. Davies’ reflects on the more troubling demands of relying on God in a life not especially kind to humanity. Oh, Jesus! aims high, but requires a careful balance of black humor, introspection and hoke, that it may not have found quite yet.

John Michael’s Meatball Seance features Michael’s demonstration of his mother’s recipe for meatballs. At the same time (as if concocting a potion) he uses the occasion to summon his beloved, deceased mother. Michael’s strategy here is to unwrap the bicycle, then play with the box. Meatball Seance hangs at the periphery, preferring to focus on scaffolding rather than results. One of Michael’s strengths is creating a Utopia in which queer identity is embraced and celebrated. Who better to summon than his mama, who had no problem with his orientation? In the course of this odyssey, he enlists a lot of audience participation: someone to chop, someone to cook, someone to speak for mom. When we are asked to countenance his quest for that one special boyfriend, we do so without blinking. A lot of Meatball Seance turns on John Michael’s charm (and intuition) but it works nonetheless.

Audacity Theatre Lab’s Dallas Solo Fest 2018 played June 6th-10th, 2018. It starred: Chris Davis, John S. Davies, Cody Clark, John Michael, Jim Loucks and Nkechi Chibueze. It was featured at The Rosewood Center for the Arts, 5938 Skillman Road, Dallas, Texas 75231. 1-214-888-6650. www. DallasSoloFest.com.

 

Once a year the good folks at Uptown Players stage a fundraiser called: Broadway Our Way, in which songs written for women are performed by men, and songs written for men are sung by women. For instance: in West Side Story Tony sings “Something’s Coming” and Maria sings, “I Feel Pretty”. So in Broadway Our Way, a woman would sing “Something’s Coming” and a man would sing “I Feel Pretty”. For two weeks (or less) the actors, musician and crew hastily yet meticulously rehearse, donating their time and talent. Actors are invited to suggest pieces they’d like to do, and the structure is worked out, complete with scenarios, set pieces and choreography. There are ballads, solos, comic, melancholy and group pieces. Transposition is used to reconcile the differences in keys and scales.

This time around some ladies sang “Young Blood” from Smokey Joe’s Cafe, responding to a sweet young thang they see taking the air. The Men covered South Pacific’s “I’m Gonna Wash that Man Right Outta My Hair”, while congregating at a salon. Jodi Wright performed the difficult and demanding “Being Alive” from Company and Grace Neeley, the wistful “Wake Me Up” from American Idiot. Walter Lee was magnificent doing “This is Me” from The Greatest Showman, and Peter DiCesare heartbreaking when he sang, “It’s As If We Never Said Goodbye” from Sunset Boulevard. There were plenty of medleys and pieces including the entire company of twenty-six players. Trevor Wright’s dance numbers were sophisticated and witty, running the gamut from soft shoe to disco (and all points in-between).

Perhaps one day we’ll arrive at a time when evincing same gender romance, sexuality and queer lives in general will no longer be necessary. Just when it seems we’ve reached some reassurance, traction, and tolerance, just when it seems we can exhale, the yahoos raise their ugly heads again. I cannot thank Uptown Players enough for granting the LGBTQ+ Community their moment in the sun. When we can see two women or two men kissing, spooning, snogging; mourning or celebrating the grace of our defiant gender identities. Where else but Uptown can you find a Musical Revue that heals, encourages, validates, joshes, jibes and rejoices. No better “charity” I can think of.

Broadway Our Way 2018 played at Uptown Players from June 14th-17th, 2018. Kalita Humphreys Theater, 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-219-2718. uptownplayers.org.

Though we can find the same questions throughout Chekhov’s dramas, each is distinct from the others. Are the lives of servants worse than the privileged who employ them? How do we live with disappointment? Does sophisticated reasoning alleviate suffering? Can we refuse those in love with us, and avoid cruelty? In their inaugural production, The Classics Theatre Project is staging The Cherry Orchard, directed by Joey Folsom, in a new adaptation by local actor and playwright, Ben Schroth. Schroth has forged an impressive script. Lyric but not formal. Clear but not simplistic. Accessible but not superficial. He captures the essence of the script without diminishing it.

Chekhov is a master of tying plot to content, and the narrative here is intriguing. Mrs. Lyubov Ranevsky is returning from a five-year hiatus from Paris, after the drowning death of her son. Finances have become dire, but she doesn’t want to deal with it. The sale of her real estate and beloved cherry orchard seem inevitable. Dunyasha, cheerful and frantic, is in love with Yasha but Yepikodov is in love with her. They are all servants in Mrs. Ranevsky’s home. Lopakin, a businessman, is in love with Miss Barbara, but can’t bring himself to propose. Numerous lives hang in limbo, while Lyubov struggles with an impossible decision. Whether or not she sells will have enormous impact.

Checkhov truly has a gift for expressing the sublime aspect of leisure class living without romanticizing or judging. There is always a wistful quality to his layered stories: an absorbing mixture of reflection, humor, melancholy and warmth. All the characters bear their fractures and follies, but rarely are they vicious. The coldness of the world never quite seems to ruin them. In The Cherry Orchard we are privy to moments where we witness the turns that our lives take, in the midst of forces beyond anyone’s control. Miss Barbara (intensely frustrated and overwhelmed) would gladly accept Lopakin’s offer of marriage, but for reasons unrevealed (he feels inadequate?) he simply can’t. This could plausibly change both their lives for the better, but they are submerged in the realm of not to be.

Folsom, Schroth, the cast and crew, et al, have created a show that is poised, humane, smart and pleasurable. Mr. Folsom has the unenviable task of weaving a story with numerous characters, orchestrating their movements, cues, and chemistry. He has navigated this with precision. The players are relaxed, focused, and thoroughly invested, revealing the interior lives of their broken, yet sympathetic characters. Touch is everything with Chekhov. You don’t want insouciance, or gravitas. It’s a difficult balance, and happily, The Classics Theatre Project has managed it, with grace.

The Classics Theatre Project presents The Cherry Orchard (in a new English adaptation by Ben Schroth) playing June 21st-July 14^th, 2018. The Trinity River Arts Center, 2600 Stemmons Freeway, Suite 180, Dallas, Texas 75207. www.TheClassicsTheatreProject.com. 1-866-499-ARTS

Ochre House’s annual event, a narrative evincing the flamenco experience, is nothing short of electrifying. Reviving last year’s success, Picasso: Matador de Malaga explores the tumultuous journey of Pablo Picasso, as he wrestled with God, wives, sexuality, and his obsessive need to make leaps in his career as an artist. Beginning with a visit from David Duncan, a photographer hand-picked by Picasso to catalog his work, we are privy to a conversation between he and Jacqueline Roque, his last wife and widow. Their discussion is at once enigmatic, avid and flirtatious. A funereal ceremony ensues, with drums, dirges and all participants draped in nearly opaque black veils. After that, we witness intense brawls and painful estrangements between Picasso and his lovers and wives. His rapacious taste for sensual stimulation: eating, love-making, painting, wandering, celebration.

I confess I am a mere neophyte to the world of dance, and certainly the audacity, raw desire, defiance and grief that is Flamenco. Choreographed by Antonio Arrebola and Delilah Buitron Arrebola, Picasso: Matador de Malaga is overwhelming, with images of bullfighting, seduction, hunger, catastrophe, pain and primal delight. No one prepared me for heels hammering like rapid-fire heartbeats, the sweat, the gyrations, the sculpture-like poses, the never-ending mournful songs, extravagant in their wailing, as if beyond consolation. The dancers are fluid, yet poised, consumed, yet detached, reserved, yet implacable. These wordless, narrative performances pull. You may have no desire to participate, but the attraction is undeniable. Like gravity (or fighting it) or tides, or moondrag, or the gorgeous scent of spring flowers, broken open, the tug is intoxicating. The initial strangeness takes over like incantation. You can’t look away.

I cannot imagine how much rehearsal it took to achieve this kind of precision, this frantic, equine pounding so exquisite and spectacular. The rhythm, the imperative invitation, the authenticity take you to a realm beyond this earth. You can just feel the characters aching to snap their mortal chains. Kudos to The 2018 Dallas Flamenco Festival, writer/director Matthew Posey, Antonio and Delilah, the cast (Antonio Arrebola, Delilah Arrebola, Alfonso Cid, Calvin Hazen, Danielle Bondurant, Stephanie Jasso, Frida Espinosa-Müller, Christopher Sykes, & William Acker ) and musicians: Alfonso Cid and Calvin Hazen, for bringing this reckless, remarkable show to the boards.

Ochre House and The 2018 Dallas Flamenco Festival present: Picasso: Matador de Malaga playing June 20th-June 30^th, 2018. Wednesdays through Saturdays. 825 Exposition Avenue, Dallas, Texas 75226. 214-826-6273. www.ochrehousetheater.org

Christopher Hampton’s Les Liaisons Dangereuses is a balance between poison and humor, the humor being tongue-in-cheek and the poison, implacable without camp. The villains: Vicomte de Valmont (Brandon Potter) and the Marquise de Merteuil (Cindee Mayfield) are unconventional. They aren’t obvious or drawn in broad strokes, yet their depravity is undeniable. Their motives are petty, but not to them. Valmont wants to seduce the married Madame de Tourvel because her unwavering virtue is contemptible to him. Merteuil wishes to corrupt Cecile de Volange to punish Cecile’s mother. Valmont and Mertuil’s version of revenge is perverse and vicious. It turns on the extreme exploitation of trust. They are sophisticated grifters who inhabit the French Aristocracy (though costumes tell us we are in the present day.) They are anti-heroes and we need to see if they will succeed, repugnant though they may be.

Liaisons opens on a conversation between Merteuil and Valmont. They are fond of each other, though we detect an intense streak of detached rage. As they discuss methods to humiliate those who have piqued their sense of indignity, a symbiotic relationship of reliance and dominance emerges. Hampton is nuanced and fast and the content needs to be processed rapidly. This pair is pathological but their demeanor is impeccable. They enable the other’s strategy but not without exacting a price. It’s worth noting that revenge in Liaisons virtually demands sexual degradation. Both characters wield charisma skillfully, chilly, but effective. All the better to eat you.

Directed by Tiffany Nichole Greene, Theatre Three’s production features a meticulous, impeccable cast. There are some chilling touches, animal masks, dresses made with dyed lace, shadowy lighting. Darkness within and darkness without. The content here (sorbet laced with strychnine) requires pitch perfect tone and razor sharp pacing. We never quite know whose side Hampton (or we) are on, even though we’re encouraged to view the ingenues as dupes. Liaisons is the blackest of comedies, focusing on pleasure and intrigue while quietly, slowly dragging us into the realm of frissons, regret and rapaciousness. The masterful know how to make this piece look smooth as glass, and this production will blindside you, in the best possible way.

Theatre 3 presents: Les Liaisons Dangereuses , playing 2800 Routh Street, Suite # 168, Dallas, Texas 75201. 214-871-3300.