Author: christophersoden@sbcglobal.net

Hercule Poirot (world renowned detective) is just coming off a case, and eager to relax on a trip aboard the legendary Orient Express. As bad luck would have it, an obnoxious, gangster (Samuel Ratchett) tries to force his help. Naturally, Poirot says: “No.” Much to his alarm, he now has no choice, as the gangster is found dead the next morning. I enjoy Agatha Christie, because there’s always lots of shrieking. Poirot sets to work gathering evidence, inspecting the crime scene, processing and considering every angle. One by one each passenger is brought to the dining car, to be interviewed. There are heirs and aristocracy, blue collar and white collar, the frantic and the nonchalant.

If you spend very time with Agatha Christie’s work, you begin to notice particular patterns. In addition to her murder mystery novels, she has written a number of plays. She often makes use of characters who are impostors. (Someone in this room is a murderer.) She created the trope of multiple suspects subjected to a confined location: a hotel, an island, a mansion. For me the most intriguing aspect is her habit of tying stories to actual, notorious events. (a roman a’ clef) In the case of Murder on the Orient Express, it’s the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby. And that’s all I’ll say.

Rachael Lindley’s direction of Murder on the Orient Express is impressive. I’m certain ensemble casts require some navigation, not to mention the elaborate, detailed set (Thank you, Greg Smith!) various dialects, and a few quirky narrative devices. The performers are focused and enthusiastic, making the most of their opportunities to shine. The production, in effect captures the boisterous feeling of adventure and intrigue, that Christie so skillfully depicts. As I’m sure most of you know, at least two fine cinematic versions already exist, but Richardson Theatre Centre’s production proves the point that live, onstage theatre, is a categorically more canny and vivid experience.

Richardson Theatre Centre’s presents Murder on the Orient Express, playing February 2nd-18th, 2024. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, TX 75080. 972-699-1130

Annie and Chris are best friends that belong to a chapter of the Women’s Institute in Yorkshire. They spend their time there with other women, all friends. Annie’s husband John is struck down by a terminal case of cancer. While waiting at a mechanic’s shop, Chris notices a provocative calendar with women posing nude. This gives her the idea that the members can pose in a similar fashion, to raise money for leukemia. The women are skeptical at first, but eventually persuaded. The club’s leader, Cora, strenuously objects, but after pleading their case to the Board of the Women’s Institute, Chris and Annie get the green light. And we’re off to the races.

The premise of Calendar Girls, is time honored. Nothing gets laughs like a matronly lady using blue language, or throwing a haymaker, or engaged in otherwise unseemly behavior. Perhaps it proves that Aunt Velma still has the piss and vinegar. That life hasn’t passed her by. That she has enough gumption to engage in scandalous behavior. Chris is savvy enough to guess that folks will love the idea of the ladies being “naughty”. It will bring a smile, and it’s for a good cause. The members will get the buzz that only comes from flirting with transgression, and charity gives them the excuse. It gives us the excuse, too.

Allen Contemporary Theatre has scored a litany of successful shows, directed with skill and sophistication: Red Rabbit, White Rabbit, God of Carnage, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time…Proof, It’s Only a Play, et al. Directed by Kathleen Vaught, Calendar Girls is no different. Vaught elicits performances (from a poised, gifted cast) that are authentic, focused, and intuitive. The show never drags: a combination of sauciness, sincerity and irony that make the content work. The nudity is playful, not shocking, rather like an elbow to the ribs.

Calendar Girls celebrates the richness of life. What it means to embrace:  allure, wit and intelligence, defiance, i. e. realms not only for  the young and rebellious. It suggests the members of this chapter of the Women’s Institute are iconoclasts. Who knew?

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents Calendar Girls, playing January 26th-February 11th, 2024. 1210 East Main Street # 300, Allen Texas. 844-822-8849. allencontemporary theate.net

 

White Christmas opens on Christmas Eve during World War Two, with a soldier’s show to celebrate. General Waverly announces his retirement, amid affectionate cheers from the privates. Captain Bob and Private Phil are great friends. Not long after Waverly’s departure, enemy bombs destroy a wall. Phil pulls Bob out of harm’s way. This gives Phil traction when he needs Bob for his two-man show. Bob isn’t pleased. After the war ends, they are indeed excellent at their craft. Before you know, they are successful television producers. They agree (as a favor) to see Judy and Betty Haynes, an impressive sister act. Judy and Phil hit off almost immediately, but for all Phil’s attempts at matchmaking, Betty’s not thrilled with Mr. Sourpuss.

In the recent past, theaters have taken to appropriating familiar films as the launch pad for stage musicals. Particularly during the holidays it’s been a great relief to enjoy something besides (with all due respect) A Christmas Carol and The Nutcracker. A Christmas Story, Miracle on 34^th Street, It’s A Wonderful Life and (of course) White Christmas. You might be dubious, as the mere invocation of Christmas, fraught with tender and deep emotion, can be so easily botched.

No one wants to feel manipulated, or their buttons carelessly pushed. That being said, White Christmas is a great musical, despite the hazards. Its belief in warmth and coming to the rescue of someone in need. The determination to shake off adversity, and contempt for selfishness. White Christmas captures the spirit of that miraculous birthday, without ringing the bell too loud.

Allen Contemporary Theatre’s production of White Christmas was a salve for the weary soul. The cast was spot on in their comic timing, their upbeat, fizzy energy. Their genuine demeanor. The emotional moments were seamless and earnest. At the end the audience was invited to sing a Christmas Carol together. And of course, we all did. Not bad for an evening at the theatre.

Allen Contemporary Theatre staged White Christmas, December 1st-17th, 2023. 1210 East Mainstreet #300, Allen, Texas (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheater.net

 

I remember being a high school sophomore and our German teacher recommending It’s A Wonderful Life to us. You should see it. The Frank Capra film that found actual Pathos in a medium inclined to Melodrama. There’s a special delight in watching a film for the very first time, not knowing where it was going. Surprises and tears. I still remember Clarence turning Bedford Falls to Babylon in a few seconds. Or something like that. I have such respect for  It’s A Wonderful Life because it comes by its emotions legitimately. It doesn’t feel contrived or manipulative.

Every Christmas, or should I say every Christmas Season, Wonderful Life is featured on one network or another, night after night, up until Christmas Eve. It’s synonymous with the spirit of Christmas, in a way that’s accessible, believable and earnest. Which raises the question, would a live radio show (a new genre that’s getting traction) of Capra’s classic, work as well for those don’t know this classic? And could it possibly speak to those of us who know every camera shot, every scene, every bit of dialogue? How is that supposed to work? The Joe Landry play (up until the narrative begins) is all about the talent and technicians and cigarette commercials and jingles and the cast as they arrive, shake the snow off their coats, and find their places.

There’s a single narrator, one techie who does the sound effects, others set the broadcast waves. The expressions of the actors, as they deliver their lines. We follow the story of the good-hearted George Bailey, as he passes up one opportunity after another for the sake of his dear ones. We get to know George, his dad, his brother, his mama, the housekeeper. We grit our teeth when Mr. Potter, the vindictive town millionaire butts in. This is all told, of course, through content and live, spoken drama. A commonplace occurrence in the theatre world is a staged reading. When you’re told it will be actors reading from scripts. No whistles and bells. No costumes or props. Just the script. The dialogue. It sounds terribly dull. And yet, it’s astonishing how completely immersed in the production we become. You forget that it’s bare bones and music stands. The show starts, and before we know it, we’re hooked. We need to believe it, and so we do.

Joe Landry’s humble spectacle works (it seems to me) because it captures the spirit of the story. It’s a “community” effort. Everyone in Bedford Falls prays for George, and glad to do so. Their prayers diffuse like radio waves up to God. The cast is a team, converging to share this poignant account. Each one tells a part of it. Moments like the rescue of George’s brother. The suitcase. George finally understanding Mary is the one for him. George lending money to Violet. Zuzu’s petals. The live radio version of It’s a Wonderful Life connects the performers to the audience, binding us in secular, yet sacred epiphanies. Or perhaps different ways of revealing the same one. We are not alone.

Richardson Theatre Centre staged It’s A Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play from December 1st-17th, 2023. 518 West Arapaho Road Suite 118. Richardson, TX 75080. 972-699-1130. RichardsonTheatreCentre.net

Jeremy is a ringing success at the law firm where he works. As so many plays do, Here Lies Jeremy Troy opens on a special day. His diligence has paid off, and tonight his boss will be breaking bread with he and his wife (Kathryn) hoping he’ll  make partner. There’s a problem, though. Jeremy never passed the bar, never took a class in Law School, never seen the inside of a courtroom. He falsified his diploma and other credentials. Starting as a clerk gave him the opportunity to practice the spirit, if not the letter, of the law. Charlie, an artist friend of his, happens to drop in. He notices documents and a photo of Jeremy’s graduation class, which is also his. Strange considering the difference in their ages.

Jack Sharkey has written a smart comedy, exposing the flaws and foibles of the human race. When Charlie discovers that Jeremy is a fraud, he threatens to expose him. Making use of his new found cash cow, Charlie hires a painter’s model (Tina). When she shows up, of course, she’s brainless. No one so fetching and willing to disrobe could be intelligent. Sharkey plays with the characters (and our) expectations. Sometimes the worse the outcome, the better the joke. When a beautiful ingenue shows up in Kathryn’s home, perhaps “professional model” isn’t what comes to mind. That being said, there are genuine surprises along the way. The characters often leap to conclusions, only to be disproved. First this comedy condemns deception, and then (at the end) makes viable use of it.

The cast of Here Lies Jeremy Troy is impeccable. Heather Walker Shin as Kathryn Troy is assured, intuitive and utterly invested. Brian Hoffman, as Jeremy, has a gift for the flabbergasted, the cornered, the sincere. Sean M. Lewis (Charlie Bickle) has a snappish, dry, deprecating wit. He’s surprisingly judgmental: considering his sketchy morals. Anthony Magee as Sven Ivorsen (Jeremy’s boss) is boisterous, sensitive and without guile. You might even say: exhilarating. (Anthony, how do you DO it?) Rashae Boyd (the painter’s model) is quite entertaining as the apprentice muse that’s adorable, even if she can’t cook.

Here Lies Jeremy Troy is an ingenious, brisk comedy of errors, with a cracker jack cast and enough gags to get you through the ferocious winter.

Rover Dramawerks presents: Here Lies Jeremy Troy, playing January 11-27^th, 2024. Cox Playhouse, 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas 75074. 972-849-0358 www.roverdramawerks.com

Brothers Charlie and Sydney Chaplin are striving to make some coin while their talented mother, Hannah, sings in a local saloon. They could probably do allright, if their drunken dad weren’t robbing them, and fulfilling his destiny to be a schmuck. As luck would have it, Charlie is pulled in at the last minute, when Hannah’s unable to perform. Inherited from his mother, he’s a natural, intuitive performer, with a knack for timing. Suddenly the Chaplins have some leverage. Before you know it, Charlie is invited to a Hollywood film studio (by none other than Mack Sennett) and invites Sydney to come along.

Things don’t start very well on Charlie’s first visit to a film set. He’s told if he doesn’t deliver, he’ll be sent packing. I suppose this triggers Charlie to panic, and panic sparks his epiphany, i. e., The Little Tramp. Performers and artisans of every stripe might search for years before they find the vehicle for their particular talent. The Little Tramp was a sort of everyman: bumbling, tripping, mocked, but always trying his best, and never phony. It took extraordinary vision to concoct this character, and was only the beginning of Chaplin’s inspirations.

Not long after, he starts his own movie studio and his phenomenal rise to success. But not so fast. At this point he wrestles with quandaries of conscience. Making sure his ailing mother has company and attention, resolving a longtime feud with Sydney, stumping for controversial political causes. Some of his choices are reprehensible. Ironically he is typecast by his own brainchild: the good-natured nebbish with a derby and cane.

Written and composed by Christopher Curtis and Thomas Meehan: Chaplin: The Musical

is absorbing, touching and frank without resorting to adulation. Perhaps it tiptoes past melodrama. Curtis and Meehan have fashioned the narrative of Chaplin’s life, with competent, intelligent dialogue and song. It reminded me of the biopics of yesteryear. The hero or heroine barely stays afloat, until their big break sneaks up on them. Then they walk a tightrope, lest they take a nosedive into failure. Knowing what to do when grace comes your way, before it slips through your fingers. Understanding that: anything worth having, has its price. (Thank you, Joan Didion.)

Water Tower Theatre’s production of Chaplin: The Musical was spot-on, smooth and flawless, with just the right measure of pathos. The cast was poised, vibrant: lots of moxie, and chutspah. Max Swarner was ideal as Charlie Chaplin. His precise singing and emulation of Chaplin’s familiar shtick, was evocative, bracing, with a tangible sense of luster. It never came off as impression or imitation. It felt charming, spontaneous and confident.

Water Tower Theatre’s production of Chaplin the Musical played November 8th-19th, 2023. 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas. 972-450-6232. watertowertheatre.org

Rover Dramawerk’s Bernhardt / Hamlet was an intriguing supreme pleasure. We find ourselves in 1897 France, where world renowned actor (actress?) Sarah Bernhardt has found herself in a pickle. Her last show was too cerebral for the hoi polloi (critical success though it was) and now she’s low on the dough and gambling on a Hail Mary! Notorious for her extravagantly eccentric antics, Sarah has cooked up a gimmick that will doubtless bring them flocking to the box office, the public and intelligentsia alike. Well, perhaps not a gimmick, exactly, but she’s confident that her choice to play Hamlet will be just the thing to resuscitate her floundering career. On this premise turns the drama.

When Bernhardt / Hamlet opens, Bernhardt is rehearsing Shakespeare’s difficult and taxing Hamlet (the Prince of Denmark) that many have called his most powerful and best. Sarah is crabbing about the excess verbiage and obtuseness of the script, carrying on and trying desperately to find her focus. Though she’s not the kind of diva who takes out frustration on colleagues. Close friends, critics, cast members, her son, and even her paramour, the brilliant playwright Rostand, say with admiration and respect, that she’s not in her right mind. She defends this dubious decision in various ways. In Shakespeare’s day, male actors played women. Succeed or fail, it will net a tidy profit. There is nothing that she (visionary genius) can’t achieve.

Playwright Theresa Rebeck has written a poignant narrative, a quandary on the nature of genius, based on historical fact. It raises all kinds of provocative questions, without assaulting the audience with a hammer. It’s not obsessed with the obvious. Bernhardt kvetches so much, you’ve got to wonder why she’s chosen this project. When she asks Rostand to write a simpler version, he asks why she wants to change “what makes Shakespeare, Shakespeare.” Rebeck depicts a woman, an iconoclast, who pays no attention to the petty concerns and gossip of unenlightened culture. It’s why she’s gained a reputation for being intrepid and unapologetically defiant. And yet Rebeck also suggests the reason for Sarah’s endeavor, is that mommy told her not to put jam on the cat.

Experienced, cunning director extraordinaire, Janette Oswald has taken on Bernhardt / Hamlet, guiding the performers with her nuanced, intuitive touch. She juggles the amusing, the despondent, the inquisitive, the skeptical, with skill and panache. She expertly steers this poised, introspective, pensive cast: agile enough to do comedy with panache, and the somber just above a whisper.

I must express my profuse apologies for not delivering my review in a timely fashion. Rover Dramawerks (who consistently presents scintillating theatre) has always welcomed me with open arms, and treated me with warmth and gracious kindness.

The Magnificent Cast

Carol M. Rice (Sarah Bernhardt) Brian Hoffman (Constant Coquelin) Jorge Marin Lara (Edmond Rostand) Chuck E. Moore (Alphonse Mucha) Ian Grygotis (Maurice) Scott Hickman (Louis) Jenny Wood (Rosamund) Marissa Mayfield (Lysette) Alexander de la Cruz-Nunez (Raoul) Sean M. Lewis (Francois).

Rover Dramawerks presented Bernhardt / Hamlet from October 12th-28th, 2023. 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas 75074. 972-849-0358. roverdramawerks.com.

In August of 1892, Lizzie Borden murdered her father Andrew, and her stepmother, Abby, with an ax, thus securing her name in history. Andrew Borden was wealthy three times over, and presided over the family fortune. After the demise of their mother, Lizzie and her sister Emma lived with Andrew and Abby, a stepmother who was hostile and greedy. She convinced her new husband to give generously to she and her relatives, while her stepdaughters had very little. The coup de grace came when she convinced himto cut his daughters from the will. This wasn’t just about avarice. Andrew Borden had more than enough money to keep everyone well provided for, but apparently had little feeling for Lizzie and Emma. It speaks volumes that despite the overwhelming evidence against her, and prevailing American attitudes of the 19^th Century, that a jury of twelve exonerated Lizzie Borden. She left court a free woman.

Theatre Three’s current production of Steven Cheslik-deMeyer, Tim Maner, and Alan Steven Hewett’s Lizzie is nothing short of electrifying. The all-female cast: Presley Duyck (Lizzie) Ja’Naye Flanagan (Emma Borden) Lauren Urso Gray (Alice Russo) Lauren LeBlanc (Bridget) are angry and ferocious, wailing and roaring and stomping and gobs of howling despair. There are no men in the cast, so the story is told without distortion by the sisters, Bridget the housekeeper, and Alice, their neighbor. We never see the parents, and disturbing incidents (such as the actual murder) happen offstage. More explanation than execution. Like volcanic opera, spoken dialogue is nearly non-existent, and the emotions soar. They pace the stage like caged tigers, in a state of barely contained frenzy. It’s less an allegory on female oppression than a furious indictment of male-dominated culture. A secular beatification of a female hero that turned on her oppressors. There’s also a demented, defiant ghoulishness that makes no apologies for the blood that drenches Lizzies clothes.

So what’s going on in Lizzie? I wonder if younger members of the audience would gather the upshot? The attitude of the actors, their disappointment and frank witness to what it means to inhabit a world that will never let them prosper, or succeed, or defend themselves or simply taste the sublime. These churning degradations and wounds and sorrows are so well articulated, so authentic, so canny. It doesn’t seem to leave room for doubt. It’s a seething, alarming, brazen spectacle with blazing colors and the fearlessness of acting out without apology. It could have easily digressed to political screed or ideological rant, but instead we feel the tragic enactment of ruined lives. Perhaps a mashup of Marat/Sade, The Threepenny Opera and My Sister in This House?

Theatre Three presents: Lizzie, playing September 28th-October 29^th, 2023. 2688 Laclede Street, Suite 120, Dallas, Texas 75201. 214-871-3300. theatre3dallas.com

Brad and Janet (a young, bourgeois, heteronormative couple) blow a tire one night, in a downpour, on the way back from a wedding. They spot a castle and venture a knock at the door, in hopes of borrowing the phone. The door is answered by Riff-Raff (the butler) and Magenta (the housekeeper) who usher in the two. They explain to Brad and Janet, it’s a special night for The Master (aka Dr. Frank-N-Furter) as he will be unveiling his “creation”. The revelers (same as Riff-Raff and Magenta) are bizarrely dressed. Despite Janet’s protestations and somewhat disturbing surroundings, Brad is convinced there’s nothing to fear.

Writer, composer and lyricist Richard O’Brien’s glorious, notorious spectacle, The Rocky Horror Show has been around since the 1970’s, and too easy to take for granted. O’Brien found the intersection between Science Fiction film and Anarchy of the Disenfranchised. Consider films like: The Day the Earth Stood Still, Invasion of The Body Snatchers, War of the Worlds. The lives of tepid, Caucasian heterosexuals collide with extraterrestrial “deviants”, resulting in a mind-blowing, chaotic, Sodom and Gomorrah, with fabulous costumes. Dr. Frank-N-Furter, and his guests, et al, have nothing but barely concealed contempt and withering disdain for the sweet, innocent, ingenues. They’re too clueless to get that they’re being mocked and exploited. That their values are the source of hilarity. O’Brien has struck a satirical tone, but no one is spared. Each character in their turn, is the object of buffoonery and bitchy humor.

Director Blake Hackler has detected what can only be described as O’Brien’s celebration of the subversive. It may be concealed by comedy and implication, but anger and disgust for Wonder Bread oppressors is palpable. It’s a mashup of camp, defiance and the outre’. It’s intriguing that this particular production calls out the Cold Water Bible Belt by name. The brand of Christianity that ignores its own hypocrisy and thrives on persecution, is skewered and held to account. The particular lines are not amplified but neither are they throwaway. As much as I admire and savor these impulses, I’m not sure they’re in sync with the rest of the script.

Hackler and this rogue’s gallery of merrymakers spark a sense of rambunctious jubilation. Rocky Horror would seem to turn on rebellion disguised as facetious shtick. This ramshackle cast of 18 performers dive-in, headfirst (like Esther Williams) to spirit of the piece. Blake Hackler has welcomed us, with open arms, into this giddy, Dionysian blowout. In the tradition of comics who have managed to speak truth to power, by the mere affectation of hi-jinks and mischief, this Rocky Horror tickles us while slipping something in our drinks.

The Dallas Theater Center presents The Rocky Horror Show, playing September 23rd-October 29^th, 2023. Kalita Humphreys Theater, 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75204.

214-522-8499. ticketing@dallastheatercenter.org

Do you have an appetite for deep, deep shudders? Are you in the mood for a demented story, that messes with your head, that steals your sense of security like candy from a toddler? Are you always up for twisted, creepy show, that’s ready to pounce and swallow you whole? Then look no further than Richardson Theatre Centre’s current staging of Misery.

Annie Wilkes has had a bit of luck. Paul Sheldon, famous author of the Misery Chastain Series, crashed while driving in a blizzard. Sheldon is the object of Annie’s adulation. She puts the “fan” in fanatic. When she finds Sheldon’s car, she digs him out and manages to get him to her farm. They are somewhat far off the grid, but no worries, Annie is a nurse, with extraordinary strength (it seems). Sheldon wakes with numerous, painful scrapes and contusions. It takes awhile for him to process Annie’s explanation, and settle in, more or less.

Annie convinces Paul, to share his most recent book. When she discovers the roman a clef’ is filled with obscene colloquialisms, she’s enraged.  Next when she buys a copy of Sheldon’s latest in the Misery Chastain Saga (Misery’s Fate) she loses it. It’s curious how she maintains a veneer of propriety and dignity, even when her behavior is pathological. She holds Paul Sheldon hostage (without either one of them actually using those words) until he rewrites his current abomination. He ingratiates himself, and forms a congenial bond with Annie. This is the smart move. It might be equal parts Stockholm Syndrome and practical strategy. There’s also the subtle suggestion that some accidental connection between Sheldon’s darker side and Annie’s is in play.

Adapted for the stage by renowned playwright William Goldman, and based on the successful novel by Stephen King, Misery is intriguing and ingenious. Also, it doesn’t feel like the film, the vibe different somehow. The story takes place entirely in Annie’s home, we never move beyond her farm. The claustrophobia closes in and the truly sinister details emerge gradually. What would someone, isolated and disgusted with the world do, if they had unlimited access to someone heroic in their eyes? Someone who convinces her the world can be lovely and conscientious? When she’s exposed to the artifice behind Sheldon’s creation?

Richardson Theate Centre’s staging of Misery is spot on. Pitch perfect. Rachael Lindley’s performance of Annie Wilkes is alarming, chilling, funny (you dirty birdie!) and utterly believable. I cannot imagine a better interpretation. Christopher Dean as Paul Sheldon transmits a celebrity who is grounded and not intoxicated by adoring fans. He evokes our sympathy and you better believe, when he tries to slip Annie a mickey, I was on rooting for him. [There is genuine pathos in this scene, when Annie seems utterly transported, like Amanda Wingfield’s soliloquies.] Kenneth Fulenwider, depicts the Sheriff, alert, deferential, skeptical, equipped with the tools a lawman needs. Fulenwider has been convincing and versatile in every show I’ve seen, equally adept in starring and supporting roles.

Once again, Director Janette Oswald has taken on what must be a mind-blowing, difficult, exhausting project, that smacks the audience, and in this case, holds us hostage, too. Over and over, she jumps into scripts that a lesser artisan would find intimidating. She brings intensity, dedication, depth and precision to the dramas she orchestrates.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents Misery, playing September 1-17th, 2023. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, TX 75080 972-699-1130 richardsontheatrecentre.net