Author: christophersoden@sbcglobal.net

 

Lights come up on an enormous cage, dominating most of the stage. There is a cot, concealed shower, towel, books, sink. Very careful attention to the confined feel of the her habitat, more than you’d expect. It is precisely not a cell. It’s a cage. Rosamund has been abducted by Peter. She is his captive. The play begins at the start of her incarceration. It’s divided by increments of passing days: Day 3-Day 10-Day 24- Day 72.5, etc. Peter discloses his plan, bit by bit. After somewhat exhaustive research, he’s concluded that she is the perfect conduit to channel his father. His dad died suddenly, far too young, and before Peter could know him. Certain metaphysical elements, reincarnation tracking, tribal tradition, rituals, et al, line up, and he’s convinced that once she’s reached the perfect age (a year hence) the spectacular sacrament can commence.

Peter is unquestionably non compos mentis, i.e. not in his right mind. His project is sketchy, and ridiculous. Personal catastrophe had wounded Peter deeply, as we might naturally respect. This ache drives his compulsion to seek remedy in reaching out to the deceased. When the precise date of supernatural balance arrives, and we see him in his bestial attire, we want to laugh out loud.

Of course, compassionate and gentle though he may be, Peter seems to be missing or ignoring the obvious. He brings her hot take out, a jukebox with remote, blankets, books, artist’s supplies. Strangely enough (or maybe not) she, his dad, and Peter are all painters. As time passes she tries reasoning with him, discussing the logic behind his intentions, asking for latitude, calling him out on exasperating contradictions. He’s maddeningly “rational”, patient, and understanding. It’s difficult to tell if Rosamund is cultivating anintimate exchange with Peter to catch him off guard, or simply make her sentence bearable.

As the narrative unfolds, certain questions arise. Why go to considerable trouble to snare Rosamund, when Peter could have simply made his pitch? The actual nut and bolts: the preparation, study, and enacting the mystical event were not a big (if dubious) request. He could have offered a stipend. He probably could have secured funding. But he’s determined she is the one and only, and cannot risk refusal.

It’s here the allegory kicks in. Rosamund’s his enchanted, sole chance at spiritual healing and fulfillment. No one else will do. When you hunt someone down and throw them in a cage (even a much nicer one) you’re still extorting cooperation. No matter how you try to persuade, she doesn’t get to say: No. Your intentions may be pure, and understandable, and earnest. But you can’t expect somebody to fix you, even if they want to. If there’s no agency, no good can come of it.

Local playwright Parker Davis Gray (with an impressive batting average) has skillfully and ingeniously crafted Incarnate, a compelling, intriguing drama, that engages us viscerally, and intellectually. Indirect and subtle, intense and implacable, the narrative is smart and the chemistry palpable. We are submerged in Rosamund’s predicament, and baffled by the gentle lunatic.

Jeffrey Schmidt (Peter) and Kristen Lazarchick (Rosamund) are a match devised with brilliance and cynicism. Schmidt and Lazarchick connect at a distance, their conversation tentative and calculating. Lazarchick concocts the bewilderment and anger demanded by the circumstances.

Schmidt delivers the warmth and guile that make Peter and Rosamund such strange and surprising adversaries.

Second Thought Theatre presents Parker Davis Gray’s Incarnate, playing October 15^th-November 1^st, 2025. 3400 Blackburn St, Dallas, TX, 75219. Bryant Hall, Kalita Humphreys Campus. (214) 897-3091. secondthoughttheatre.com

 

Lights come up on an enormous cage, dominating most of the stage. There is a cot, concealed shower, towel, books, sink. Very careful attention to the confined feel of the her habitat, more than you’d expect. It is precisely not a cell. It’s a cage. Rosamund has been abducted by Peter. She is his captive. The play begins at the start of her incarceration. It’s divided by increments of passing days: Day 3-Day 10-Day 24- Day 72.5, etc. Peter discloses his plan, bit by bit. After somewhat exhaustive research, he’s concluded that she is the perfect conduit to channel his father. His dad died suddenly, far too young, and before Peter could know him. Certain metaphysical elements, reincarnation tracking, tribal tradition, rituals, et al, line up, and he’s convinced that once she’s reached the perfect age (a year hence) the spectacular sacrament can commence.

Peter is unquestionably non compos mentis, i.e. not in his right mind. His project is sketchy, and ridiculous. Personal catastrophe had wounded Peter deeply, as we might naturally respect. This ache drives his compulsion to seek remedy in reaching out to the deceased. When the precise date of supernatural balance arrives, and we see him in his bestial attire, we want to laugh out loud.

Of course, compassionate and gentle though he may be, Peter seems to be missing or ignoring the obvious. He brings her hot take out, a jukebox with remote, blankets, books, artist’s supplies. Strangely enough (or maybe not) she, his dad, and Peter are all painters. As time passes she tries reasoning with him, discussing the logic behind his intentions, asking for latitude, calling him out on exasperating contradictions. He’s maddeningly “rational”, patient, and understanding. It’s difficult to tell if Rosamund is cultivating anintimate exchange with Peter to catch him off guard, or simply make her sentence bearable.

As the narrative unfolds, certain questions arise. Why go to considerable trouble to snare Rosamund, when Peter could have simply made his pitch? The actual nut and bolts: the preparation, study, and enacting the mystical event were not a big (if dubious) request. He could have offered a stipend. He probably could have secured funding. But he’s determined she is the one and only, and cannot risk refusal.

It’s here the allegory kicks in. Rosamund’s his enchanted, sole chance at spiritual healing and fulfillment. No one else will do. When you hunt someone down and throw them in a cage (even a much nicer one) you’re still extorting cooperation. No matter how you try to persuade, she doesn’t get to say: No. Your intentions may be pure, and understandable, and earnest. But you can’t expect somebody to fix you, even if they want to. If there’s no agency, no good can come of it.

Local playwright Parker Davis Gray (with an impressive batting average) has skillfully and ingeniously crafted Incarnate, a compelling, intriguing drama, that engages us viscerally, and intellectually. Indirect and subtle, intense and implacable, the narrative is smart and the chemistry palpable. We are submerged in Rosamund’s predicament, and baffled by the gentle lunatic.

Jeffrey Schmidt (Peter) and Kristen Lazarchick (Rosamund) are a match devised with brilliance and cynicism. Schmidt and Lazarchick connect at a distance, their conversation tentative and calculating. Lazarchick concocts the bewilderment and anger demanded by the circumstances.

Schmidt delivers the warmth and guile that make Peter and Rosamund such strange and surprising adversaries.

Second Thought Theatre presents Parker Davis Gray’s Incarnate, playing October 15^th-November 1^st, 2025. 3400 Blackburn St, Dallas, TX, 75219. Bryant Hall, Kalita Humphreys Campus. (214) 897-3091. secondthoughttheatre.com

Marsha Gilmore’s in a frenzy. Searching under furniture cushions, beneath tables, in drawers. She’s lost the murder mystery she borrowed from the library, and those 10-cent-a-day fines can really add up. The maid, Bianca, tries to help with her in frantic search. Marsha admits she’s forgotten where she hid the book, as her husband Tobias has forbidden such tawdry fare. Seems they “rot the brain.” Soon though, they find the murder mystery, and Marsha wants to return it, right away. Unfortunately the library’s closed on Sunday.

Persis Devore, a French Interior Decorator, arrives looking for Tobias. She is posh and attractive, and her reasons for being there seem a bit sketchy. Then Tobias arrives, somewhat uncomfortable Persis is there. Marsha has overheard Persis talking to him on the phone, and certain they’re planning her demise. They’re careful to keep the conversation vague. Marsha goes to Bianca, revealing their nefarious plot. They enlist the help of their neighbor, Virgil. By way of Marsha’s Feminine Wiles.

The comedy of errors has a fine tradition in the theatre. A series of misunderstandings that proliferate, till chaos comes crashing down. Remember the torn pillow that sends feathers sailing, irretrievably? When Marsha concludes that Tobias means to assassinate her, you wonder if his edict might not be wrong. Several elements: an unexpected visitor, a strange telephone call, a covert conversation and the Rube Goldberg train has left the station.

Director Rachael Lindley brings a precise touch to the content. She isn’t going for zany or wacky, she finds the ridiculous side of each character. (We’ve all got one.) Most are privileged class, but she doesn’t make them stuffy or insufferable. As suspicion becomes doubt and doubt becomes distrust and distrust becomes a verdict, reason evaporates like smoke. It’s mass hysteria but funnier. These actors are top of their game, shaping their characters with quirks and foibles, humming with busy nonsense.

Makenna Baker (Bianca) sparkles as the maid: practical, tactful, soldiering on with the occasional nip. The perfect balance to her frantic mistress. Kate Crawford (Persis Devore) brings verve and poise to the French decorator. She’s not some caricature of erudition or the cosmopolitan. Jeff York (Tobias) is a responsible, patient husband. He’s not crazy about Marsha’s antics, but he endures. Brian Hoffman (Virgil) has a great turn as the neighbor. He’s not worldly, but he’s got reliable virtue. Sue Goodner (Lynette) as Marsha’s mother-in-law, is the savvy dowager, viewing the world from a comfortable, skeptical distance. Julian Harris (Ben Quade) is Bianca’s cop fiance. He has a strong sense of duty, and justice. Charming and vigilant, he is one tall drink of water.

Laura Jennings as the loopy, preposterous, high-strung Marsha, is sheer heaven. The spark that ignites marvelous chaos. The rum that jump-starts the party punch. She might be Gracie Allen’s younger sister. Her inexplicable logic, her blizzard of impulses, her frenzied energy, are astonishing and delightful. She doesn’t make Marsha insipid, or dopey. She’s credulous, to a fault. Laura’s got spot-on timing and crackerjack comic chops.

Don’t miss RTC’s Let’s Murder Marsha. It will tickle your funny bone, without mercy.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: Let’s Murder Marsha, playing from October 10^th, -November 2^nd, 2025. 515 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080.

972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net.

On October 13^th, 1962, Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? premiered at The Billy Rose Theater on Broadway. It starred Arthur Hill as George, Uta Hagen as Martha, George Grizzard as Nick, and Melinda Dillon as Honey. In 1963, it won the Tony and New York Critic’s Circle for Best Play. It was selected for the 1963 Pulitzer Prize, by the drama jury. But the advisory board objected to its profanity and sexual themes, awarding no Pulitzer Prize for drama in 1963.

So began the notorious history of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, a watershed that changed how people thought about drama. Otherwise considered an Absurdist, Who’s Afraid might be the closest Albee ever came to recognizable narrative. We can’t be sure how many middle-aged couples invite company to witness their brutality. Liberal use of liquor can lead to sketchy behavior. That being said,  Albee was a brilliant iconoclast.

Who’s Afraid finds George and Martha returning from a faculty party around midnight. George teaches History, and Martha’s the daughter of the University President. Martha is more than tipsy and George finds her rowdy, scattered and childish behavior annoying. But she brushes him off. She announces she’s invited a younger couple over for a drink. When they arrive, Nick and Honey introduce themselves. Nick is in the Biology department, and Honey, his devoted wife. Martha turns on a dime and makes for an affable hostess. Though these two are as baffled as George at the midnight invitation.

From the start, Nick and Honey can tell something’s off. George and Martha progressively move from good-natured jabs to squabbling to vindictiveness to verbal brawling, and keeps escalating. When they’re not trading blows, George attacks the other couple, passively going for the jugular. We’ve got to wonder if George and Martha are hosting because they crave an audience. Nick and Honey keep trying to leave, but the older couple insists they stay. Though, strangely enough, no one’s actually preventing them. Whether or not they’re in the same room, George and Martha are constantly finding  some way to get the other.

Albee keeps everything off-balance, taking aim at cultural stereotypes. Both couples have no children, and nothing to suggest they will. While George and Martha are always bickering, Nick and Honey (for all their niceties) don’t seem to like each other. Like Eugene O’Neill, Albee uses alcohol as a lie detector. George and Martha keep imbibing, while handing fresh drinks to the guests. As the evening commences, vulnerabilities emerge, and the older couple’s exchanges get more vicious. Albee observes (with contempt and cynicism) that America’s model for sublime matrimony is a sham; with expectations no one can manage. The wife is a harridan or insipid. The husband a stud or a houseboy.

You cannot help but stand in awe of The Classics Theatre Project, for taking on such an intense, unmerciful piece as Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? They may be one of the few with the chops for it. Three acts, two intermissions, while we watch George and Martha eat each other alive. It is genuinely shocking. The cast leaves artifice far, far behind for the sake of authenticity.

Terry Martin gives George a steady, intelligent dignity. Quiet but sentient. John Cameron Potts makes an interesting Nick. He swings between a smile and a sneer, relaxed and polite. Devon Rose gives Honey an animated turn. Not only comic relief, her despondence and hurt are poignant. As Martha, Diane Box-Worman is the raw, raucous, deprecating core of the play. She ticks, ticks, ticks till her anger shakes us to pieces. She is fearless, broken humanity (without apology or affectation). Surrendering to destruction and grief. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything like it.

The Classics Theatre Project presents Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Playing October 3rd-24th, 2025. Stone Cottage Theatre, 15650 Addison Road, Addison Texas, 75001. 214) 923 3619. ctpdfw@gmail.com. theclassicstheatreproject.com

 

A soldier (Nikolai) out for a walk, sees an author (Isaac) writing in a notebook. He asks what it is. Isaac explains if something isn’t true, that doesn’t make it pointless. Nikolai has trouble buying this. If it’s not factual it’s a lie. They talk awhile, and become friends. So begins Describe the Night, Rajiv Joseph’s strange, audacious exploration of  language, coincidence, and the volatile nature of actuality. Mr. Joseph is a preeminent American playwright, very comfortable with grotesque, surprising narrative and ingenious composition. It’s a whirlwind. Episodes come at us quickly. Sets are practically animated! We might turn from whimsical to somber to disturbing.

Next we see a journalist (Mariya) who’s witnessed a bombing, by accident. She runs to a car rental, where she begs for a car. At first the Agent (Feliks) doesn’t grasp the urgency. But once she confides, he lends her a jalopy. In the next episode (time has passed) Nikolai invites Isaac to dinner where he introduces him to his wife (Yevgenia). Nikolai is overjoyed to see his old friend, and Isaac is too. Yevgenia and Isaac hit it off. A spark ignites. Not blazing but brilliant, just the same.

Describe the Night is set in the USSR, starting before the first revolution and well past the second, to the turn of the 20^th century. It’s an ensemble piece of seven characters. Near as I can tell, there’s no multiple casting. The lives of the characters overlap. We see a character in subsequent episodes that now seems to be new, but not so. It might be age, it might be place, it might be history. Joseph may move humans as arbitrarily as God. An encounter on one occasion becomes a sea change in another. The drama doesn’t follow a straight chronological line. It hops. Even so, episodes fit, as the larger picture becomes clear.

Describe the Night is a gobsmack. You’re settled in, then another curveball bowls you over. As the story unfolds, you wonder if you can keep up. It’s not about a particular aspect of humanity, though the pieces coalesce in the sketchy nature of “truth”. The dances are jaunty and imaginative. They embody the chemistry of intersection. You think it’s a hodge-podge, a pastiche, then the full effect hits you, and incomparable shudders.

Director Becca Johnson-Spinos has orchestrated these nimble, glowy, engaged performers: Urzula (Marcy Bogner) Feliks (Chase Di lulio) Mariya (Whitney Renee’ Dodson) Nikolai (Connor McMurray) Vova (Bradford Reilly) Isaac (Dylan Weand) Yevgenia (Katelyn Yntema) with confidence and panache’.  Costumes by Katherine Wright and sets by Kennedy Smith are striking and effective. Imagine the logistics of this intriguing mosaic, with its shifts, its pulse, its presence.

This is gestalt. This is phenomenal. This is theatre electrified.

Great thanks and gratitude to Outcry who granted me permission so late in the run.

Outcry Theatre presented Describe the Night by Rajiv Joseph. It played August 23-31st, 2025, at Theatre Three’s Norma Young Arena Stage.

 

Billed as The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical, Hair was written By Gerome Ragni and James Rado with music by Galt McDermott. It premiered off-Broadway, October 17^th, 1967 at Joseph Papp’s Public Theater then, Broadway on April 1968. With parallels to our present political situation, it was a protest against the Vietnam War, the Draft, oppression of Gay Rights, Women’s Rights, Black Rights. The Hippie Movement was gaining traction, pitching the Bohemian Lifestyle: polyamoros, adventurous sex, unconditional love, bliss of hallucinogenics, tolerance for alternative lifestyle, and an overall rejection of Middle-Class values.

The content inspired the structure. Such as it was/is. If shows like Godspell and Pippin featured cast members interacting with the audience and cast climbing scaffolds and perching willy-nilly onstage, for most of the show, Hair did it first. Hair embraced an unencumbered ideology. Minimal sets, nonchalant dialogue, casual attitude, childlike shenanigans. It does raise serious issues like the draft, apathy, social injustice. By and large the songs carry the heavy lifting, some of it compassionate and deeply touching, others facetious. They add gravitas and poignance to a narrative that sometimes swings wide. Hair’s salient impetus, it’s stock in trade,is jubilant, cosmic, joie de vivre’. When they encourage us to claim our destiny as bright shiners, when it wields nothing but radiance, we believe it. We believe the frissons along our spines, the nuanced rapture.

I do not envy director Brian Harden (aka Claude) who coordinated this enormous cast of raucous rapscallions. This menagerie of maniacal monkeys. Sometimes when they sing as a group it seems like small, earnest children. Caught up in the moment. Other times it’s like the ridiculous fun of drinking with friends, and you all spontaneously break into song. It just feels right.

Arts Mission Oak Cliff presents Hair: playing September 11-27^th, 2025. The last three performances are Thursday-Saturday of this week, curtain at 7:30. AMOC (Arts Mission Oak Cliff) is a converted church. 410 S. Windomere, Dallas, TX, United States, Texas 75208. 469-262-0465.

The lights come up on the living room of a family, where the mother (Stark) is bundled in a comforter. The home is comfortable, well lived in, somewhat cluttered. A bit downtrodden. There is the daughter (Hanky-Panky) the dad (JonJon) two sons (Manny and Charlie) and a daughter-in law (Ruby). Above the sofa is a window where an enormous, unsettling eye (God?) watches. The daughter comes home and talks with mom. The way she dresses is provocative. She and her mother inject heroin together. Then Manny arrives. There is tension between he and JonJon. Next Charlie and Ruby show up. They have been infected with Christian Nationalism, and Charlie has enlisted with something like ICE.

This family’s frank with one another, but not mean spirited. They have meager means, and try to roll with it, the best they can. They speak in a Shakespearean dialect: sentence structure mimics that of Shakespeare’s characters. The dialogue contrasts with class. Playwright Matthew Posey might be pointing to the dignity they bring to the world, or perhaps the suggestion that history is repeating. They are oppressed and destitute but not the outcry of frustration and rage we might ordinarily expect. They don’t squabble any more than most families. The interpersonal dynamic between them: JonJon and Ruby are playful and resigned, Hanky Panky and Mom get on, despite Mom’s lack of tact.

The tone of Opera Box is like Salvador Dali, the grotesque and puzzling taken as a given. Beneath the layer of the familiar and bizarre there deep despondency. Like Waiting For Godot the comical and dry lyricism are informed by disappointment and despair. It permeates. While Vladimir and Estragon wait incessantly for the foretold arrival, this family isn’t searching for answers. I don’t believe they are disingenuous, circumstances are closing in, but fighting gradual destruction feels pointless. When Charlie and Ruby declare the salvation they’ve found, they read as ridiculous, pathetic.

The enigmatic aspects of Opera Box are unsettling and sharp. The eye that appears with its freakish curiosity might be God, casually observing with no desire to intervene. Possibly it’s the privileged class, the characters in this tragedy acting out and singing deeper emotions for their entertainment. Sometimes characters appear in that same window, looking ghoulish and portentous. The son with the head the size of an elephant. The cyclone that Ruby cooks up in a dance of religious ecstasy.

Opera Box is low key. Consider lying on the beach, paralyzed, while the tide washes and creeps, until you drown. What Hannah Arendt called the banality of evil. Vindictiveness concealed by apathy. The wealthy ruining lives because they can. The buffoon that runs amok because no one will stop him. Matthew Posey’s nearly whispered allegory is delicate and terrifying. Something or someone is waiting to eat you alive.

The Ochre House presents Opera Box, playing September 3-September 20^th, 2025. ASL Interpretation: Saturday, September 13^th. 825 Exposition, Dallas, Texas. 214-826-6273. ochrehousetheater.org

Maude and Gloria are en route from London to Scotland, on the occasion of Gloria’s marriage to Christy. Maude (Gloria’s Aunt) and Gloria are from London, urbane and used to finer things. Maude is none too pleased with the arrangement, perhaps she feels her niece could have done better. She’s not thrilled with the destination for the wedding. Christy greets the two, accompanied by John. John is the house manager and a family friend. Christy, in effect, John’s ward. As soon as Gloria and Christy reunite, they’ve got moves that would make acrobats proud, and they’re not coming up for air. As arrangements proceed, Maude is not exactly the ideal house guest. She seems to think her custodial duties entitle her to weigh in on every decision. In her defense, Scottish customs might feel, uh, a bit exotic. But c’mon. It isn’t polite to forbid kilts and bagpipes at a Scottish wedding.

From here, things take a turn. A friend has put up a baby girl for adoption and Gloria is dead set. The friend lives in San Francisco and what with one thing and another, John and Maude must make the journey to the Colonies, dealing with the paperwork, legalities and procedures and proper care for the wee lass. To say they squabble over everything is like saying boxers love to cuddle. Things only escalate when they’re subjected to close proximity.

Ken Ludwig is the theatre world’s dream. His first two hits were Lend me a Tenor and Crazy for You. He has written 34 plays and musicals; won Tonys, Drama Desk, and Laurence Olivier Awards (among others). Many of his pieces are popular in repertory, and it’s easy to see why.

Ludwig takes what might be considered traditional plots and does so much more than we might expect.

Be My Baby premiered at Houston’s Alley Theatre in 2005, starring Hal Holbrook and Dixie Carter. It takes the crazy, impetuous young lovers, but makes the husband reserved. Then he takes the feuding “in-laws”, but their animosity isn’t always played for amusement. The comedy of Be My Baby is decidedly more organic. Similar to Neil Simon, there are moments of despair and anger, that make the humorous episodes only that much funnier. It’s so much more effective than scripts that turn on the laff machine. Be My Baby is more sophisticated by far. More polished and original and absorbing.

Rachael Lindley directs a brilliant and versatile cast. Be My Baby has a demanding script, not dealing in stock characters, taking unexpected directions. The performances are invariably intriguing and authentic. Ivy Opdyke as Maude is touching and surprising, harried but gradually tender and affectionate. Her warmth is truly memorable. Matt Gunther as John, is contentious and testy, his tortured predicament at once hilarious and charming. When we see his softer side, it’s nearly a shock, but his humanity is vibrant and nuanced.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: Be My Baby, playing August 8th-31st, 2005. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas, 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net

 

Maude and Gloria are en route from London to Scotland, on the occasion of Gloria’s marriage to Christy. Maude (Gloria’s Aunt) and Gloria are from London, urbane and used to finer things. Maude is none too pleased with the arrangement, perhaps she feels her niece could have done better. She’s not thrilled with the destination for the wedding. Christy greets the two, accompanied by John. John is the house manager and a family friend. Christy, in effect, John’s ward. As soon as Gloria and Christy reunite, they’ve got moves that would make acrobats proud, and they’re not coming up for air. As arrangements proceed, Maude is not exactly the ideal house guest. She seems to think her custodial duties entitle her to weigh in on every decision. In her defense, Scottish customs might feel, uh, a bit exotic. But c’mon. It isn’t polite to forbid kilts and bagpipes at a Scottish wedding.

From here, things take a turn. A friend has put up a baby girl for adoption and Gloria is dead set. The friend lives in San Francisco and what with one thing and another, John and Maude must make the journey to the Colonies, dealing with the paperwork, legalities and procedures and proper care for the wee lass. To say they squabble over everything is like saying boxers love to cuddle. Things only escalate when they’re subjected to close proximity.

Ken Ludwig is the theatre world’s dream. His first two hits were Lend me a Tenor and Crazy for You. He has written 34 plays and musicals; won Tonys, Drama Desk, and Laurence Olivier Awards (among others). Many of his pieces are popular in repertory, and it’s easy to see why.

Ludwig takes what might be considered traditional plots and does so much more than we might expect.

Be My Baby premiered at Houston’s Alley Theatre in 2005, starring Hal Holbrook and Dixie Carter. It takes the crazy, impetuous young lovers, but makes the husband reserved. Then he takes the feuding “in-laws”, but their animosity isn’t always played for amusement. The comedy of Be My Baby is decidedly more organic. Similar to Neil Simon, there are moments of despair and anger, that make the humorous episodes only that much funnier. It’s so much more effective than scripts that turn on the laff machine. Be My Baby is more sophisticated by far. More polished and original and absorbing.

Rachael Lindley directs a brilliant and versatile cast. Be My Baby has a demanding script, not dealing in stock characters, taking unexpected directions. The performances are invariably intriguing and authentic. Ivy Opdyke as Maude is touching and surprising, harried but gradually tender and affectionate. Her warmth is truly memorable. Matt Gunther as John, is contentious and testy, his raspy, tortured predicament at once hilarious and charming. When we see his softer side, it’s nearly a shock, but his humanity is vibrant and nuanced.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: Be My Baby, playing August 8th-31st, 2005. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas, 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net

 

Maude and Gloria are en route from London to Scotland, on the occasion of Gloria’s marriage to Christy. Maude (Gloria’s Aunt) and Gloria are from London, urbane and used to finer things. Maude is none too pleased with the arrangement, perhaps she feels her niece could have done better. She’s not thrilled with the destination for the wedding. Christy greets the two, accompanied by John. John is the house manager and a family friend. Christy, in effect, John’s ward. As soon as Gloria and Christy reunite, they’ve got moves that would make acrobats proud, and they’re not coming up for air. As arrangements proceed, Maude is not exactly the ideal house guest. She seems to think her custodial duties entitle her to weigh in on every decision. In her defense, Scottish customs might feel, uh, a bit exotic. But c’mon. It isn’t polite to forbid kilts and bagpipes at a Scottish wedding.

From here, things take a turn. A friend has put up a baby girl for adoption and Gloria is dead set. The friend lives in San Francisco and what with one thing and another, John and Maude must make the journey to the Colonies, dealing with the paperwork, legalities and procedures and proper care for the wee lass. To say they squabble over everything is like saying boxers love to cuddle. Things only escalate when they’re subjected to close proximity.

Ken Ludwig is the theatre world’s dream. His first two hits were Lend me a Tenor and Crazy for You. He has written 34 plays and musicals; won Tonys, Drama Desk, and Laurence Olivier Awards (among others). Many of his pieces are popular in repertory, and it’s easy to see why.

Ludwig takes what might be considered traditional plots and does so much more than we might expect.

Be My Baby premiered at Houston’s Alley Theatre in 2005, starring Hal Holbrook and Dixie Carter. It takes the crazy, impetuous young lovers, but makes the husband reserved. Then he takes the feuding “in-laws”, but their animosity isn’t always played for amusement. The comedy of Be My Baby is decidedly more organic. Similar to Neil Simon, there are moments of despair and anger, that make the humorous episodes only that much funnier. It’s so much more effective than scripts that turn on the laff machine. Be My Baby is more sophisticated by far. More polished and original and absorbing.

Rachael Lindley directs a brilliant and versatile cast. Be My Baby has a demanding script, not dealing in stock characters, taking unexpected directions. The performances are invariably intriguing and authentic. Ivy Opdyke as Maude is touching and surprising, harried but gradually tender and affectionate. Her warmth is truly memorable. Matt Gunther as John, is contentious and testy, his raspy, tortured predicament at once hilarious and charming. When we see his softer side, it’s nearly a shock, but his humanity is vibrant and nuanced.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: Be My Baby, playing August 8th-31st, 2005. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas, 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net