Author: christophersoden@sbcglobal.net

Dressed like a ringmaster, “Second Time” Sammy Mulligan, introduces us to a special vaudeville show set the day of the volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius, in 79 A. D. ; burying Pompeii, an ancient Roman city that was exceptionally evolved at the time. As we might expect from this brand of entertainment, there are all kinds of acts, stand up comedy, punchy songs, magic, bantering, puppets, clowns, soft shoe, and “plenty of hoke.” Appropriate to vaudeville, there’s cynicism, but also, an undercurrent of pathos, rage and cruelty. Doris and Harold are a married couple who keep disparaging one another, Sammy keeps making nasty remarks to brother Jimmy, the magician is so soused, yet earnest, your heart breaks for him.

As promised, pieces pointing to the impending catastrophe emerge. Martha and Gladys, two switchboard operators for Mount Olympus, sing an upbeat tune explaining the finer points of monotheism in light of the end of civilization. The townspeople are clearly engaged in pursuit of dissolute recreation: nursing hangovers and making sloppy passes. A wheel of fortune is spun, featuring destinies such as Annihilation, Plague of Locusts, Fiery Arrows (please forgive any inaccuracies here). Co-creators, Cameron Cobb, Michael Federico and Max Hartman, create a raucous, goofy, enjoyable variety show, but keep reminding us that horrific destruction is looming. We hear rumbling coming from Vesuvius, we see a comic sketch with an effete Roman emperor, we listen as Sammy takes a moment to share a bit of history.

It’s made plain that this is taking place in a world that’s all too familiar, regardless of when and how we live. People are stuck in jobs they despise, their lives are soured by feelings of worthlessness, disappointment and too much drink. Deities are either detached or cavalier. Cobb, Federico and Hartman evoke the paradigm we know from Noah’s Flood, The Black Plague, Nero Fiddling as Rome Burned, The Holocaust, i.e. people intoxicated on degeneracy when mortality’s inescapable. Absorbed in the troubles that afflict us all, they’d rather forget than seek redemption. Comparisons to the present day suggest America as a village of the blind, where a one-eyed despot is king. Pompeii!! is a stirring combination of reflection, hilarity, menace and despair. For satire, it’s fairly subtle and a grand, theatrical excursion.

Stand out performances from this resourceful, amazing cast include: Steph Garrett, Dennis Raveneau, Marti Etheridge, Jo-Jo Steine, Parker Gray and Jeff Swearingen.

Kitchen Dog Theater presents Pompeii!!, playing April 19th-May 6^th, 2018. Trinity River Arts Center, 2600 North Stemmons Freeway, Suite 180, Dallas, Texas 75207. 214-953-1055. www.kitchendog theater.org.

The married couple in Empathitrax are cited in the program as “Her” and “Him”, suggesting they could be any married couple. Other than the cool, crisp whites and grays of Amelia Bransky’s understated set, there’s not much to suggest we’re in the near future, other than the title drug itself. This husband and wife have been married more than ten years, and things have taken a severe downturn. Possibly because of the wife’s struggles with clinical depression. Empathitrax, conscientiously supplied only to the wedded, removes any impediments between an individual and someone else’s emotions. Hidden or not. These two have decided Empathitrax might just be the way to salvage their marriage.

At the outset, this new drug has a profoundly blissful impact on the relationship. Insightful revelations emerge. Each is moved by the other’s undisclosed tenderness and frailty and quirks of attraction. Then this progressive exploration into the psyche begins to go haywire. He uses Empathitrax to access her feelings when she is deep within the torment of her pathology. She then tells him she’s been weaning herself off her Zoloft for weeks, with the help of Joe, their Contact/Guide from the company that manufactures Empathitrax. After this horrible episode, she refuses to resume her Zoloft, declaring she’s tired of taking refuge in a Band Aid.

Playwright Ana Nogueira has taken the predicament of a sweet, miserable couple (and what seems like an innocuous solution) using it to foment the perfect storm. She is convinced that everything would be solved if her husband could thoroughly comprehend her illness, and he is already exhausted by her Herculean struggles. Instead of engaging the prolonged process of learning how and when to empathize with each other, which is a choice, they erase boundaries that are there for a reason. Empathitrax is a virtual illustration of wrongheaded choices, in the context of mental illness. Psychotropics make the illness manageable. Support is crucial, but, no one one person can save you. Nogueira involves us, intimately, in this couple’s desperate attempts to fix what’s broken in their attachment. It doesn’t feel that way at first, but they will evince their desperation before the final lights out. This is brilliant, compelling, nerve-wracking theatre.

Second Thought Theatre presents Empathitrax, playing April 4th-28th, 2018. Bryant Hall at Kalita Humphreys Campus. 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. Ovation Tix: 1-888-811-4111. info@secondthoughttheatre.com

 

 

 

Down for the Count: One Act Women’s Theatre Festival

For a few years now, Bishop Arts in Oak Cliff has presented a Festival of One Acts by Women playwrights. This year’s production (directed by Phyllis Cicero) was marked by versatility, audacity and originality. They didn’t necessarily raise issues of marginalizing, discrimination or diminishment, and in some cases asked more the audience than we find in the mainstream. And perhaps something more of the intriguing and fanciful.

DIY (Katherine Craft) Two teenage girls who are best friends are fighting, Elena exposed that Rory cheated on a test. Rory has been gossiping about Elena. It takes awhile before the two strip away the layers of deception (some of the lies are extreme) to reveal the raw truth of their predicaments. In the end, their caring attachment wins out over anger. Craft shows the strength of their love without a lot of the traditional demonstrative affection.

Interdisciplinary (Ife Olujobi) An African American performance artist sits at a chair, applying makeup, wearing brassiere and panties. It’s discreetly made clear her menstrual cycle has started. Two professors who are evaluating the piece, begin their evaluation with erudition, but gradually lapse into predictable, alpha-male squabbling. Two lady friends who have met for lunch, also notice the “exhibit.” One bursts into laughter, while the other is more pensive and respectful. Olujobi explores racial division and the objectification and disparagement of women in American culture. By tracking the reactions of seemingly intelligent adults, she evinces our inability to acknowledge women as normal, whole, accessible human beings.

Jo Chaco Tum (Maryam O. Baig) Beginning with a bucolic grandfather telling a folk story to his tomboy granddaughter, this play morphs into narratives examining gender archetypes, polarization and blending of the male and female, sexuality and the pomegranate as metaphor. There are also hints of Oedipus Rex. Baig has a strong sense of the elusive and playful here. The bizarre and contemporary. She mixes colloquialism with humor and camp. This is the kind of piece that is better interpreted intuitively than intellectually, but between the lines lurks a kind of subversive wisdom.

I Get The Blues, Sometimes I Do (Tsehaye Geralyn Hebert) Hebert follows the longtime friendship of Stephanie (Black) and Colleen (White) as they struggle with issues like dating, divorce, career, heartache, while sipping wine and listening to Stephanie’s Blues records. They disagree without incident, as close friends often do; until Stephanie refuses to lend Colleen her personal experiences of the genre, for a storytelling gig Colleen has landed. Seems Colleen doesn’t understand that each person’s individual connection to the Blues is the point. Hebert has found a clever way of showing that equal doesn’t mean identical.

The Sound (Linda Jones) Delivered by an African American Woman, The Sound is a prolonged monologue comparing the sound of her mother ironing her hair flat as a child, with the sound of cocaine cooking in a Crack House. The tone is dark and melancholy. Chilling. She’s very tough, but seems to long for the warmth of her lost childhood, and resigned to present despair. Jones has created a vivid portrait of a woman who feels she cannot fit into the world of respectability, but hates the trap she’s fallen into.

Covenant (Kristiana Rae Colon) We are dropped into (what might be) a Wiccan Ritual, where four brightly dressed women dance, chant, cast spells, and forge a sacrament of shared womanhood. They are focused and invested, and it’s quite alluring and intoxicating. Towards the end, Colon introduces Roger, a friend whose dedication and passion leave much to be desired. These women understand the true meaning of devotion, and more than that, they don’t need men to thrive and evolve.

Bishop Arts Theatre Center presents: Down for the Count: One Act Women’s Theatre Festival

playing March 29th-April 15^th, 2018. 215 South Tyler Street, Dallas, Texas 75208. 214-948-0716. BishopArtsTheatre.org

Elliot is a Marine in the war against Iraq. His Pop is a Vietnam Veteran. His mom (Ginny) was an army nurse who met his dad in the war. His Grandpop is a veteran of the Korean War. These are the voices of Quiara Alegria Hudes’ Elliot, A Soldier’s Fugue. Three generations of proud Puerto Ricans serving in the American Military. From the start, Brian Clinnin’s scenic design suggests jungles, battlefields, tents, barracks, gardens, all blending into one another.

As Fugue proceeds we begin to comprehend how war has suffused the lives of Elliot, his Mom and Dad and Grandpop. At the outset, Elliot appears freshly wrapped in a towel, and dresses, but not before showing us how fit he is. Clean and untainted? We follow him through basic training and letters he sends back home, before he is sent to the battlefield. Hudes creates a surreal montage of Elliot’s experience: downtime and getting drunk, the terror of warfare, but also anticipation, the mind wandering (as in a fugue) the strangeness of intense injury, longing for his favorite foods back home. Then the drama opens up as Pop, Mom, Grandpop weave in their own experiences, creating a connective tissue, a complicated, rich, intense narrative that demonstrates how military service changes them. Not only memories but part of who they are.

There is something stirring, something vibrant and sad and subversive in Elliot, A Soldier’s Fugue. Hudes neither condemns nor celebrates the life of a soldier. There are comical moments, melancholy, dreamlike, horrific, reflective. The story of this family is nuanced and complex. All events are given equal value, so the impact of this story is subtle, yet unforgettable. We are gradually drenched in this family’s experiences, engaged in their sense of pride, shock, resignation, lack of direction, the dozens of shades and values that turn the human mind. Director David Lozano and this utterly submerged, remarkable cast have created a theatrical exploration like none other, powerful, astonishing, exquisite, overwhelming in its steadfast tenderness.

The good people at Water Tower Theatre were kind enough to invite me to Elliot, A Soldier’s Fugue, though it was too late in the run for me to post my review in a timely manner. I thank them for this. It played January 26th-February 18^th, 2018.

Water Tower Theatre : 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas 75001972-450-6262. www.watertowertheatre.org.

The real surprise of of TJ Dawe’s and Rita Bozi’s 52 Pick-Up is how well the premise works out in practice. 4 actors, 2 couples, 52 predetermined scenes performed at random. Each card in the deck has a scene attached, and they are tossed in the air. Each performer takes a card from the floor, reads the prompt aloud (Do you like it? What are you thinking? I didn’t say that.) the lights go down, then up. The sequence commences. Some scenes are longer than others. Some quite brief. They are ironic or melancholy or sweet or angry.

Whether 52 Pick Up involves true spontaneity, or the mere illusion, it’s hard not to expect something cursory or cavalier. The tone, the depth of feeling, the way each scene fell into place, the impression that the various scenes are happening within a larger context, all quickly disabuse us of this notion. Almost as if we wouldn’t know the sequence was random if we weren’t told. The characters are the same even though they and we don’t know what’s coming next. In some ways 52 Pick-Up reminded me of Constellations, a show in which a man and woman appear to be repeating particular exchanges, with slight variations. While parallel universes were mentioned in The Talk Back, I preferred the idea that timing could affect the outcome of any event, large or small. That many results are possible depending on forces beyond our control. Tides, planets, clocks, moods, movement, impulse. Such is what Dawe and Bozi approach through this simple, brilliant concept. Though this show takes careful steps to remind us that each scene is autonomous (with a definite beginning and end) the narrative doesn’t feel disjointed. It doesn’t play like pastiche.

Director Stefany Cambra and her cast (Robin Clayton, Andrew Manning, Caitlin Galloway and Madeleine Morris) have handled this daunting adventure with great focus and finesse. The show runs 65 minutes but it never feels frantic or rushed. We feel as if we are watching a very detailed, pensive portrait take shape before our eyes; depicting the nature of attachment, estrangement, contentment, grief. It’s strangely exhilarating to feel a project so seemingly counter-intuitive, take hold of our hearts and imagination. The mind boggles when we consider what rehearsals must have been like. 52 Pick Up was a splendid excursion into the timeless and endlessly intoxicating world of broken, irresistible humanity.

I attended 52 Pick Up on closing weekend. Many thanks to Proper hijinx Productions for letting me attend.

52 Pick Up was performed at Dance Xpress, 4320 Marsh Ridge Rd Ste 130, Carrollton, Texas 75010. (972) 939-7200. properhijinx.com

Decades after the release of such classics as Detour, Double Indemnity, They Live By Night, Film Noir continues to fascinate and resonate with contemporary audiences. Written and directed by Ochre House’s Kevin Grammer, The Woman Who Knew Too Much is a musical homage to a genre characterized by a dark, lyric cynicism. An existential, never ending night where dystopia is a given. Grammer has constructed a blissfully dark narrative that celebrates noir while perhaps indulging in tongue-in-cheek mockery. We can smile at the wiseass dialogue while appreciating a realm where its all about booze, broads and brawling. With a pervasive tone of detachment and resignation.

Violet wakes up in a mental institution, with only scraps of recollection to explain why she’s been institutionalized. She is visited by her parents and Yvonne, her hostile, snarky sister. As her memory gradually returns, she finds herself in a nightclub loaded with sketchy activity, flirtatious (if chilly) banter, thugs, prostitution, and a predilection for knocking back hard liquor. (Lock the front door, cause baby I’m home!) As Violet’s nocturnal recreational activities are slowly revealed, and various characters croon the ups and downs of their tawdry lives, the jigsaw pieces fall into place. Marguerite, Violet’s mother at the mental hospital, is a madame at the nightclub. Soon memory and supposition splash into each other. What’s genuine memory and mere, transient fantasy? Yikes.

First and foremost in noir milieu is tone, and Grammer and this confident, intuitive cast have provided it in spades. Kevin Grammer’s script is inspired. Spot on. It’s a quintessential culmination of glamour, skepticism, sharp wit and dangerous misadventure. Everybody’s packing heat and at least slightly intoxicated. I have sung the praises of Ochre House in this column before, and The Woman Who Knew Too Much, is no exception. Attention to detail, quirky mannerisms, a meticulous balance of nuance, irony and layers of symbolism and meaning, made this splendid show memorable and engaging. I regret I was unable to attend before closing weekend, but bear in mind, The Ochre House’s consistently high standards for the future.

Ochre House Theater. 825 Exposition Avenue, Dallas, Texas 75226. 214-826-6273. www.ochrehouse theater.org

Agnes’ younger sister Tilly has died, before Agnes was truly able to get to know her. Like so many of us, she never believed time would run out. When Agnes discovers Tilly’s notebook for Dungeons and Dragons, she sees it as an opportunity for deeper understanding. She seeks out one of Tilly’s confederates to assist, as she explores the quixotic gameworld, so enigmatic to the uninitiated. This is the premise of Qui Nguyen’s She Kills Monsters, a strange blend of the melancholy and preposterous, the fanciful and crucial. Like a Rauschenberg collage or Lynch film, the balance of seemingly polarized elements seems to happen without contrivance or gimmickry.

As Agnes starts to learn the ropes and tropes of D&D (acquiring an identity, understanding protocols of sorcery, picking up the process of battle) she picks up on the discrepancies between Tilly’s everyday behavior, and her “shadow side” while playing the game. It’s not so much about good or bad, as Tilly’s chance to summon her more distinct, fearless propensities, in a context where players can evince without being mocked or reprimanded. The villains and monsters have their roots in the recognizable world, and little by little, Agnes comes to grasp her younger sister’s trials and travails, victories and disappointments.

It’s almost impossible to talk about She Kills Monsters without mentioning the numerous references to 90’s Pop Culture. Too young to pass for nostalgia perhaps, but familiar enough to tickle, considering the quantum leaps we’ve made since that pivotal decade. Nguyen seems to have figured out how to deliver unblinking camp without missing a beat, and Fight Choreographer Jeffrey Colangelo has brought it off with precision. When Batman and Robin walloped the sociopaths in the old ABC series, we knew they weren’t really fighting, but they were dead serious. When Agnes, Tilly, and their comrades engage in battle with various entities of destruction, it feels like a mash up of ferocity and poise. The result is bracing, hilarious and exhilarating. We feel Agnes’ loss, but also, the allure, the conciliatory aspects of D&D become plain. Nguyen has achieved an intelligent, clever and deeply moving piece that will lighten your burdens and resonate with your spirit.

Theatre 3 presents She Kills Monsters, playing March 8th-April 1^st, 2018. 2800 Routh Street, Suite 168, Dallas, Texas 75201. 214-871-3300. boxoffice@theatre3dallas.com

Before the current movement to empower those who have been sexually assaulted, it seems to me Alfred Hitchcock’s treachery was exposed by numerous venues. Two biographical films and expose’s by Tippi Hedren (abused during filming of The Birds) and Donald Spoto’s The Dark Side of Genius, revealed Hitchcock’s nastier side when it came to exploiting those under contract to him. Sadly, the phenomenon of indulging the despicable behavior of geniuses is nothing new. We can include Picasso, Fassbinder, Jon Huston and Woody Allen to name but a few.

Terry Johnson’s Hitchcock Blonde is set in 1959 and 1999, exploring three connections: between Janet Leigh’s body-double for Pyscho (“Blonde”) and Hitchcock, Blonde’s relationship with her violent husband, and in 1999: an undergrad named Nicola and her mentor/professor, Alex. The three are presented in parallel, suggesting similarities between the erudite (if somewhat oafish) Hitchcock, the relaxed film professor, and the troglodyte Husband. Ironically, Johnson depicts these three men as ultimately pathetic, preferring predation to actual lovemaking and resorting to lame scenarios to trap their objects of desire. We might even speculate that Johnson is working from Freud’s paradigm: Alex (Super Ego) Hitchcock (Ego) and Husband (Id).

In 1959 we see Hitchcock gradually seducing Blonde, in his quirky, indirect way. He plies her with sumptuous meals and works up the courage to suggest they film something like a screen test, requiring that she be nude. We also hear an ongoing monologue in which she describes to her husband, the strange experience of being naked in front of so many crew members for days on end, during the filming of Hitchcock’s notorious shower scene. There’s a sense that she is reflecting on her epiphany as a sexual being but also antagonizing Husband’s languid libido.

In 1999 Nicola and Alex take a sunny holiday in Greece, while examining mysterious, unlabeled cans of footage by Hitchcock himself, so degraded they must often deal with scraps. While trying to unravel this murky narrative, Alex persistently tries to convince Nicola they should become lovers. Nicola is intelligent but has emerged from humbler beginnings than Alex. By design or accident she is a brunette, though part of the revelation is Hitchcock’s obsession with the archetypal Blonde, as an exquisite, unattainable, icy empress. Not surprisingly, after Alex has overcome Nicola’s resistance (through shameless chicanery) he is no longer interested.

Kudos to the Benjamin Lutz (Director) the cast (Robert Bradford Smith, Nikki Cloer, DR Mann Hanson, Kayli Hessler and Jeff Burleson) and crew of Hitchcock Blonde for taking on this intriguing, complicated, sharp and profoundly disturbing drama of leverage, subjugation and defiance. On the surface it may feel strange and lurid, but there is depth, boldness, sly wit and electrifying insight here. We become so submerged and intoxicated by the rhythms of raw desire and sexual imperative, it’s only by processing after the fact we comprehend the grotesque power of objectification. This is theatre of the brilliant, broken, pathological mind. Go see it.

Giant Entertainment presents Hitchcock Blonde, playing March 8th-24th, 2018. Frank’s Place (Black Box) Kalita Humphreys, 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas, 75204. (855) 855-6777. www.giantentertainment.org

The Royale is just one example of the ugly, ritualized degradation practiced in the Old South. Fit, African American men are blindfolded and forced to fight one another, while wealthy white men shout racist invective and throw coins. The last one standing was permitted to scoop up the coins. This is the image at the center of Marco Ramirez’s The Royale, a drama inspired by the life of Jack Johnson, the first prize fighter in American history to go up against a white prize fighter.

Set in 1908, in a boxing arena, The Royale includes Jay Jackson, his sister, his sparring partner, his trainer, and his agent. It is a sequence of brief, powerful scenes that culminate in his confrontation with the white boxing champion. It explores the overwhelming cultural forces at work, as Jay tries to galvanize his resolve. It is not enough to believe in himself, he must consider death threats, rioting, the paltry sum he will receive if indeed he does succeed. After that his tribulations may continue. The systemic racism so firmly embedded in American society is so ferocious, so volatile, that being on the side of the angels seems cool comfort at best.

It’s worth noting the recent revival of certain shows, in the midst of current political upheaval and the resuscitation of evils some thought were buried and forgotten. In The Royale, set over a hundred years ago, Ramirez makes it clear just how little traction racial equality has actually managed. His race fable swings between the painful and the heartbreaking, the exhilarating and the sobering. He presents an inspiring, brave, downtrodden hero that is asked to forfeit more than most.

We usually associate heroism with accolades, or at least recognition. In Jackson’s case, he must rise above the vindictiveness of compatriots, and those who cared for him deeply and feared his persecution after the fact. Like the best dramas, The Royale demonstrates that the truth we discover in history is not always so easy or so simple. How African-Americans are too often summarily punished for wanting anything but subjugation.

Kitchen Dog Theater presents the regional premiere of The Royale, playing March 1^st – 19th, 2018. 2600 N. Stemmons Fwy, Suite 180, Dallas, Texas 75207. (214) 953-1055. www.kitchendogtheater.org

In some ways, Marc Blitzstein’s The Cradle Will Rock is reminiscent of Brecht and Weill’s The Threepenny Opera, though it’s more particular to the context of American politics in 1937, including economics and destitution, exploitation of the working class and fight to establish unions. While Threepenny is more global, exploring numerous issues that arise from the food chain, Cradle stays focused on how the wealthy extort cooperation from the poor, and stealthy power brokers like Mister Mister maintain the status quo. Threepenny is a dark show leavened by satirical tone, and Cradle is a satire with moments of dark socioeconomic clarity. For all my lofty exposition it’s raw, visceral, funny and intense.

Blitzstein described Cradle as “…a play in music” and it consists of a 17 member cast and a piano. Characters include a giddy benefactor to the arts, a young lady who earns extra by turning tricks, a pharmacist wrestling personal demons, a violinist, a doctor, a professor and a newspaper editor. And Larry Foreman, a labor organizer. Set in a night court, Cradle gives each character the opportunity to tell their story. Blitztein’s script and score are fresh and clever, suffused with irony and intuitive humor.

It bounces along, blending pragmatic rhetoric with deadpan gags. There’s corruption, xenophobia, blackmail and chicanery. Blitzstein demonstrates the entanglements that come from desperate indigence and the obsessive need of the privileged to keep blue collars from advancing. It’s often tongue-in-cheek, but its urgency, its barely contained anger pulls you in. Sets your pulse racing.

What words can I find to do this charismatic show justice? Defiant and funny. Raucous and witty. Subversive and sharp. Director Diana Sheehan has orchestrated this challenging show with mastery and finesse. Brick Road has assembled an exhilarating show and a spirited cast to bring you a political musical every bit as relevant as it was when our government shut it down, in the late 1930’s. Do not miss the opportunity to experience this glorious, theatrical refusal to cave to the will of fascist oppression.

Featuring: Mark Oristano as Mr. Mister, Jennifer Kuenzer as Mrs. Mister, Rachel Reininger as Sister Mister/Moll, Chapman Blake as Junior Mister/Gus/Dick, Francis Fuselier as Harry Druggist, Joey Folsom as Larry Foreman/Gent, Cherish Robinson as Ella Hammer, Doug Fowler as Reverend Salvation, Elisa Danielle James as Editor Daily/Sadie, Stan Graner as Yasha, Phillip Clark as Dauber,
Jerry Crow as Dr. Specialist, Robert San Juan as President Prexy, Cobin Born as Professor Mamie/Steve, Kwame Lilly as Professor Trixie, Francis Henry as Bugs/Cop/Scoot/Reporter

Brick Road Theatre presents The Cradle Will Rock, playing March 9th-18th, 2018. Cox Building Playhouse, 1517 H Ave, Plano, Texas 75074. brickroadtheatre.org/tickets. 972-467-7519.