Category: Critique

 

Like so much literature, Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream seems to improve as we get older. Probably because we understand what’s actually going on. It evokes Juliet’s observation of the “inconstant moon” whose changes have a mercurial effect on human beings. Shakespeare would aim to capture the essence of the essence of sorcery. A nebulous word like “magic” altogether insufficient. There’s some beguiling and enigmatic floating in the right hour, the right season, that plays havoc with lovers. Puck, a nimble sprite finds delicious pleasure in messing with mortals, glad to act on Oberon’s (King of the Faeries) commands.

Hermia is promised to Demetrius, a very poised and suave suitor, but Hermia’s in love with the hot-blooded rapscallion, Lysander. Hermia’s dearest friend, Helena, is smitten with Demetrius, and Hermia would gladly comply, but she’s stuck. Meanwhile Oberon and his Queen Titania are at odds. He sends Puck to gather flowers that steer the victim to inappropriate love. Between Puck and Oberon their meddling only complicates already volatile situations. The desired results turn to fiasco, and brawling ensues. Havoc is chaos is disaster.

A troupe of Craftsmen who also dabble in theatre, are enlisted to present a play to entertain at the marriage of Theseus and Hippolyta. Their hearts are true, but they’re not exactly Equity. Under the direction of Quince they enact the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, their intense love thwarted by a wall. Tinker Tom Snout plays the Wall. So then five couples: Theseus and Hippolyta, Hermia and Lysander, Helena and Demetrius, Oberon and Titania, Titania and Bottom (?) the Donkey (you half-expect Demetrius and Lysander) are reflected in the fable of Pyramus and Thisbe. Which is to say: Mortal or Faery, Human or Supernatural, romantic love springs from the ridiculous.

The Classics Theatre Project’s production of Midsummer Night’s…is spot on with their unorthodox, bold slant on the material. The costumes reveal the 1960’s, as well as the music played by a live band. The trippy, strange ideology of the Summer of Love suits the material well. The interstellar influence on mankind emerges from the enormous moon that rotates and shifts. Unless I’m mistaken there are several, sly references to “mary jane.”

There are particular plays that are demanding, unforgiving and overwhelming (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Birthday Party) and certainly A Midsummer Night’s Dream fits. It’s not enough to hear the cues and make the mark. There’s an ephemeral, elusive enchantment that’s more intuitive than rational. Like catching a butterfly blindfolded. The cast here delivers with poise and verve and playfulness.

Think Lightning in a Bottle and don’t miss TCTP’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The Classics Theatre Project presents: A Midsummer Night’s Dream, plays: February 1^st– March 8^th, 2025. 15650 Addison Theatre Centre Studio, Addison Road, Addison, TX, theclassicstheatreproject.com. tctdfw@gmail.com. 214-923-3619.

 

John Cariani’s Almost, Maine is an exquisite, poetic piece. A number of extremely short plays (not sketches) with a common thread. The excruciation, the bliss, the irony, the confusion of love. Each fable happens on the brink of an important revelation. A cusp. Each has its own tone, its own salient emotion. A man sends a potential girlfriend on preposterous journey. A man crosses paths with his ex, only to have his last scrap of hope demolished. A woman visits her fiancee to return all the love she gave him. I think it’s fair to say each story has more than one point. Often we don’t know where one is headed. You’ve probably figured by now there’s more than a little absurdity, but it’s closer to Beckett than The Marx Brothers.

There’s an ethereal kind of tint to Almost, Maine. I’ve noticed some productions lean more towards the humorous aspects, even when the content is somber. This is director’s discretion, of course, but I’m glad that Nancy Cecco and Martin Mussey didn’t give us short shrift. Some of this is positively wrenching, but it fits the structure. None of the incidents, are extraordinary, exactly, though they sometimes feel whimsical. They present the couples with a choice to make, even if it’s to accept a hard truth. Taken as a single experience, Almost, Maine bears a kind of enchantment: the mysterious, the serendipitous, the aha!, the tingle or the grief that pushes us to the next episode. Like a gestalt, it fuses to an epiphany greater than the sum of its parts. When you leave and it washes over you, it’s astonishing.

Laurels, to Cecco and Mussey for this remarkable, nuanced production, Almost, Maine shimmers with various degrees of hues, and these two hit every note. It’s a demanding script, it’s too easy to settle for a gloss, though I daresay some cannot resist that temptation. It’s deceptively simple, like a haiku or a koan. The cast: Brian Hoffman, Maxine Frauenheim, Johnny Jordan, Jr, Sydney Dyer, Jamie Gutzler, Brett Femrite, Ian Grygotis, Kathleen Vaught and Tim Desky have clearly brought their A-Game: versatility, authenticity, focus and energy to this splendid show.

Productions of this caliber are exceedingly rare. Don’t miss your this last chance this weekend.

BTW: Watch out for that shoe.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents: Almost, Maine, playing now January 24th- February 9^th, 2025. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX, United States, Texas,75002. (844) 822-8849.

allencontemporarytheatre.net

(Fridays and Saturdays at 8 and Sundays at 3)

 

From December 5^th -22^nd, 2024, The Firehouse Theatre staged the musical Annie, by Thomas Meehan (Book) Martin Charnin (Lyrics) and Charles Strouse (Music). A fine choice for the Christmas Season to be sure: tribulation without pathos, moxie without bravado, sweetness without sap. Inspired by the popular comic strip, Annie opens (as you might expect) in an orphanage, Lorded over by Mrs. Hannigan. A drunk but not a beast. A snot but not a bully.

She nevertheless rules with iron bloomers. The little girls sing their wistful disappointment, in “Maybe”, next their anger and despair in “Hard Knock Life.” Perhaps there’s a clue here in Meehan, Strouse and Charnin’s strategy. The actors wield their emotion forcefully without crossing the line. Their feelings are curiously, just this side of adult. No one is interested in playing us.

Next we see Daddy Warbucks in his palatial mansion. He has a very efficient, very pretty assistant (Grace Ferrell) skilled at following his constant stream of directions. Warbucks is a tycoon and (I think it’s safe to say) a Republican. Evidence of the poverty he’s caused is easy to find, all over town. Warbucks has decided he wants to adopt an orphan. Preferably a boy. Grace ignores this when she realizes that Annie is the perfect fit. To honor Annie’s wishes, he uses his great wealth to track down her parents.

You might say that Annie is a fable. A testimonial to the power of kindness and good will. Before we know it, Warbucks and Hoover are smoking the peace-pipe and he adopts the rest of the girls from the orphanage. Leapin Lizards. The script is quite clever and if we never go too deep, perhaps it’s the tone that makes it all work. When Annie’s introduced to the opulence of Daddy Warbucks’ lifestyle, she’s impressed, she’s pleased, and she’s poised. None of this is to suggest she’s not in earnest. The aforementioned three man team has read the room, and know just what to do. They have mixed (very, very carefully) the plausible with the fanciful. And once you find your way to the plausible, the rest is easy to sell.

I want to mention here that in recent years my experience with The Firehouse Theatre has been nothing short of phenomenal. Truly. Show after show: Little Shop of Horrors, Anything Goes, Sweeney Todd, Pippin, The Drowsy Chaperone, Gypsy….. has been meticulous and impeccable. Timing, gusto, intelligence, and a head of steam like the Queen Mary. And all of this in a space that’s small and unforgiving. Somehow they have managed to pull this off without revealing any scaffolding. (If you know what I mean.) Not once at The Firehouse have I been disappointed. If I’m gushing, it’s because Firehouse has earned it.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Miss Eliza Chabot, who played Annie in the company of this stunning cast. Her performance was flawless, her demeanor unbelievably authentic. She doesn’t act, she is. There’s something about her energy, her warmth, her lack of artifice, that makes us forget we’re in a theater.

Annie played The Firehouse Theatre December 5th-22nd, 2024. 2535 Valley View Ln, Farmers Branch, TX, United States, Texas. (972) 620-3747. thefirehousetheatre.com

 

It has become a recent tradition at Richardson Theatre Centre to stage something from the Radio Show Theatre genre. We are taken to a radio station, back in the days when actors and singers and musicians stood close to stationary microphones, performing like there was an audience. We get to know the personalities of all the characters, from the intern to the manager, to the host to the guitarist. We’re privy to the inside dope: crushes, spats, exhilaration, vanity, disappointment. Clearly all that work at the radio station comprise a family.

It’s Christmas Eve and everyone is wearing some kind of Holiday Finery. Even the technician. There are bright dresses, vivid sweaters, Santa caps, green and red ensembles. At WRTC they’re raring to go, infected by the spirit of the season. An ingenue is overcome with excitement: the one and only Elvis Presley will be performing there tonight. It’s something of a gamble. A lot of money has been spent to promote the event, in hopes of saving this humble station from destitution. Some of the performers are holding on to scripts, while others have one ear poised for their cues. Once the station signs on, there will be comedy skits (remember the Bickersons?) cooly cool tunes, traditional carols, perky commercials, and the emcee who (from what we can tell) has aspirations to the big time.

A Rockabilly Christmas is ingenious. This particular category of show appears more and more frequently during the Yuletide Season. Nothing Wrong with A Christmas Carol, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever and A Christmas Story. But it’s great to find something different. Every Christmastime the RTC seats fill up, and Rockabilly Christmas was no exception. The audience was stoked, convivial and bubbly.

The hazard of Holiday Theatre is walking the tightrope between excess emotion and a story without zip. You could say they are informed by nostalgia, but there’s more to it. The manager has a monologue in which he cringes over the advent of television. Children and we grownups too, ache, for the lost enchantment of this rmiraculous event. We have the technology to create the razzle-dazzle, but it seems Christmas has lost its human touch. Forgive my getting so ooey-gooey but adults, especially (I think) yearn for the kind of Christmas that comforts and gladdens the soul. That wraps us in grace.

Thank you, Friends at Richardson Theatre Centre.

Richardson Theatre Centre presented: A Rockabilly Christmas. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130

The young Prince Hamlet has returned to Denmark, only to discover his father’s brother Claudius, following King Hamlet’s death, has married his mother and appropriated the throne. This marriage took place right away. The couple aren’t exactly sitting Shiva. Hamlet is devastated. A couple of sentries on the graveyard shift has seen apparitions of a ghost who resembles the deceased King. Hamlet accompanies them the next night, and sure enough, it’s his dad. He accuses Claudius of murdering him in his sleep, pouring a dose of poison in his ear. Father demands that Hamlet avenge him. As an act of cunning Hamlet devises to feign insanity, giving him the upper hand in confronting his uncle. As the play marches forward, though we begin to wonder if he’s still faking. If he’s unwittingly acting out the absurdity of existence.

The crux of Hamlet is profound despair. His father’s dead, his uncle and mother (for all practical purposes) are committing incest, not to mention assassination. This happens between the family, and gone unpunished. Nobody seems to have noticed. Or perhaps it’s apathy. Hamlet is utterly baffled and distraught. What kind of world, of cosmos do we inhabit

when man, with propensity for nobility and kindness, would seek out depravity? Hamlet discovers this dismal truth of life and humanity. How do we reconcile conscience, drowning in a fractured and pervasive rejection of grace. He’s not sure he can go on. Ironically, the methods of revenge often involve the amorality he denounces. He calls his Mother a whore. He leads Ophelia on, then does a 180, with no explanation. By play’s end, it’s a nihilistic mashup of the ridiculous and chaotic.

The Classics Theatre Project, in the fine tradition of shifting the milieu to contemporary times, is at once intriguing and strange. Unlike the earlier, elaborate setting for TCTP’s Oleanna, Hamlet is minimal, achieving the scene with say, chairs and props. The dialogue feels reasonably spontaneous; the emotion palpable. Facetiousness is woven throughout. The insufferable, didactic Polonious, the comedic banter of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, amusing.

The peripheral music carried a somber bathos that would drive you to drink. Hamlet, I’m sure, must be a nightmare to stage. The hopelessness, the wordplay, the nonsense, the cruelty. The love lost to rage, to desperation, to forfeited tenderness. Under Joey Folsom’s keen intuition and clarity of execution, TCPT’S Hamlet is an unforgettable, disconsolate experience.

The Classics Theatre Project presents: Hamlet, playing October 25th-November 23^rd, 2024. Stone Cottage Theater: 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas 75001. (214) 923-3619 theclassicstheatreproject.com

Frederick Manion has murdered Barney, owner of a cocktail bar. He found him and shot him dead. His wife, Laura, returned home, black and blue, clothes torn, and told her husband she’d been raped. Manion, a decorated soldier, turns himself in. Paul Biegler, a retired District Attorney, is enlisted to defend Manion, with the help of his buddy, (tipsy attorney) Parnell McCarthy. Biegler visits Manion in jail, a contentious defendant.

Anatomy of a Murder is a novel written by John D. Volker, adapted for the stage by playwright Elihu Winer. Volker was the actual lawyer who defended the case. Otto Preminger’s intense, sardonic film, preceded the play, starring Lee Remick, Ben Gazzara, James Stewart, George C. Scott, and Eve Arden, et al. Curiously, the play eliminated certain elements, probably for practical reasons. Now nobody expects (except perhaps Disney) for a show to hop between incarnations identically. It’s not always easy to tell the difference between concoction and elimination. That being said, I was surprised that one particular detail, brought up in Winer’s drama, was not pursued.

It should come as no surprise that the defendant’s innocence or guilt is irrelevant, at least to his defense. Paul Biegler says as much. Your attorney is your advocate in an adversarial process, designed for your best interest. If the verdict’s unjust, the onus lies with the prosecutor. This structure respects the presumption of innocence. Some attorneys say outright: Don’t tell me if you did it, I don’t want to know.

Anatomy of a Murder is a strange mixture of the lurid and the true. It’s an Exotic Dancer dressed like a Prima Ballerina. Biegler is perceived as truthteller, though he’s willing as any other lawyer to use chicanery. The law provides some latitude, at the discretion of the judge. Biegler draws the line at prevarication. He won’t lie. Laura Manion is displayed as the victim, while the prosecution suggests she was looking for sex. Naturally the time that Anatomy of a Murder was written, the laws concerning these questions were not enlightened.

None of the characters are well off. Biegler himself is scraping by. Frederick and Laura share a mobile home. It’s implied that he can be brutal when they fight. Biegler and McCarty get useful gossip from their secretary. It should be added this defense team of three are virtually working pro bono. Very little here is spelled out, the truth being messy and all. But it’s the sly Volker who plays on ambiguity. He emphasizes the doubtful, without being obvious. He exploits our inclination to say: Well, it might be true. And the ending is positively subversive.

Anatomy of a Murder, staged by Richardson Theatre Center, is distilled. Volker has 86’ed some peripheral subplots for the sake of clarity, though that might have gone to tone. The focus is the courtroom, which occupies most of the stage. Director Rachael Lindley handles this disturbing content with a savvy, careful touch. The impressive cast, is also equal to the task. Odd that such a harrowing story should feel so distant. It lurks in your brain until it seeps out later.

Richardson Theatre Centre presented Anatomy of a Murder. It played October 25th-November 10^th, 2024. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113. Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecenter.net

The story of Sweeney Todd began as a serial piece in 1846, titled: String of Pearls. It appeared in the notorious penny dreadfuls, cheap, grisly pulp fiction. There has been some debate as to whether Sweeney Todd is fiction, legend or nonfiction. This popular narrative has known numerous stage incarnations, throughout the years, the most recent being Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler’s musical in 1979, not to mention film, ballet and television. And of course, Pocket Sandwich’s spoof, by Joe Dickinson..

Depending on the version (and there are many) you experience, the story goes like this. Sweeney Todd has it in for a corrupt Judge, who sent him away to prison, kidnapped and raped his fiancee. He sets up his trade as a barber with mad skills and thus in demand. There he will polish off the judge. As he contemplates his revenge, he encounters Mrs. Lovett, whose meat pie business is foundering miserably. Together they cook up the idea to replace regular meat with the victims of his homicidal impulse. Ironically and apparently, the public prefers human flesh and Mrs. Lovett’s business goes through the roof. The other characters include Sweeney’s grown daughter, a persistent detective, his young friend during imprisonment, and Tobi, a sweet orphan they hire to help Mrs. Lovett.

This Dickensian yarn certainly has layers. When Sweeney’s plot to murder murder the Judge fails, he resolves to indiscriminately kill any hapless bloke whose ass hits his cunning barber chair. His more or less understandable desire to avenge his exploitation, morphs into something wicked and pathological. The subsequent success of the meat pies becomes a metaphor for society and cannibalism. [Consider The Threepenny Opera’s Cannon Song, or What Keeps Mankind Alive? ] Sweeney’s seachange slowly engulfs all of his friends and loved ones, who meet with cruel demise. Is degeneracy inevitable? Does culture breed an insatiable taste for mayhem and blood?

I gladly count myself among those much relieved to find The Pocket Sandwich Theatre’s move to Carrollton, has succeeded and actually increased seating. (I think.) Their notorious touch for irreverent satire still holds steady, and the ebullient merriment, the fizzy dizzy mockery of rational logic, holds everyone in stitches. It does your heart good to find your self in the throng

of raucous, bubbly cheer. Joe Dickinson’s spoof of Sweeney Todd is about as serious as your Aunt Mable, in her cotton nightgown, cold cream and curlers. It’s closing weekend, so don’t miss this yummy feast!

The Pocket Sandwich Theatre Presents: Sweeney Todd (the Fiend of Fleet Street) closing this weekend on November 16^th, 2024. 1104 Elm Street, Carrollton, TX. (214) 821-1860

• pocketsandwich.com

Imagine one character, a woman, has been savagely attacked, in front of her children. Imagine everything of human value has been torn away from her. As the play opens, it has been two years since she met with social workers. Two women (one experienced, the other a novice) are there to walk her through an unbelievably difficult, excruciating task. The survivor has nearly nothing to lose, her torture virtually without remedy. The other two women have discovered that their usual protocol has no practical use, in the midst of such catastrophe. The information we get is parsed out slowly, and when we discover why she is there, it’s stupefying.

Playwright Debbie Tucker Green has constructed an enigmatic, overwhelming test of humanity. Under the circumstances, choosing the unspoken is preferable to risking what will make matters worse. And nothing feels as interminable as silence. I should add here that Green lists the characters as: One, Two and Three. This leaves casting to the discretion of the director. It might be women. It might be men. It might be both. It also suggests that these three could be any of us. Number three is the afflicted, this much we know. She is furious. She ignores their insipid guardrails, livid with nothing to draw upon but deep, deep despair. We can’t imagine how these three will navigate this dilemma. When silence hangs like a verdict. When our utter inability to comfort chokes us. 

Shannon McGrann, M. Denise Lee, and Kristen Lazarchick, under the sharp eye of Director Sasha Maya Ada deliver authentic, difficult performances, struggling with this minefield. McGrann, Lee, and Lazarchick are dropped into a tiger pit, the tension they create tighter than a drum. Good actors never give by halves, and they take us with them on this life-changing ordeal. As we might expect, Second Thought Theatre never takes the easy path. We’re expected to be as brave as the actors. STT it seems, thrives on harrowing, rapacious drama and we should expect nothing less.

Second Thought Theatre presented hang from October 16th-November 3^rd, 2024. 3400 Blackburn St, Dallas, TX, United States, Texas. (214) 897-3091. info@secondthoughttheatre.com

 

Two women: Karen Wright and Martha Dobie, have established through sheer determination, a private boarding school for girls. Converted from a barn, the school is nonetheless tasteful, cozy and competently designed. Among the teenage girls we find the swoony, emotional, credulous behavior you might expect. And then there’s Mary. Mary is devious, angry, bullying, given to escalating fits of rage or weeping. She pleads her innocence (everyone is against her) and when cornered, resorts to vague explanations. Like all bullies, she claims persecution. She lies obsessively, stupidly and flagrantly. She skates, mostly because it’s difficult for adults to believe, even a delinquent teenager could actually be amoral. And, in a word, pathological.

Mary decides that Karen and Martha have it in for her. She gathers information from other girls she may find useful. They have overheard Martha’s bout with her Aunt Lily. Lily accuses Martha as being unnatural. She accuses her of jealousy (as if straight people never feel jealousy for friends). Mary makes a run for it, extorting fare from a classmate, seeking refuge with her wealthy grandmother (Amelia) who is related to Karen’s fiance. She begs grandmother to let her move back home, and though she comforts, she sees right through Mary.

This isn’t Grandmother’s first rodeo, and probably not Mary’s. Even Agatha, Amelia’s housekeeper, has her number. Desperate to succeed, Mary uses a spec of gossip to extemporaneously accuse Karen and Martha of kissing, where students could see. The grandmother starts making phone calls and within two hours, the lives of Martha and Karen are ruined. All because a girl hated school.

I think we must consider several structural issues that feel curious. It seems that any extenuating circumstances that playwright Lillian Hellman might have included, she chose to omit. We are shown repeatedly that you couldn’t believe Mary if she said water is wet. Time and again this is obvious to everyone around her, peer and grownup. She is fooling no one. When Evelyn becomes Mary’s unwilling shill, her testimony is so obviously coached, you cannot understand why they succumb to such shaky circumstances. In every conceivable way we are shown that Mary is motivated by vindictiveness. And yet she prevails.

Sadly, I think we are all familiar with the adage: We must protect the children. Which is certainly true. But protect them from what? Whether we’re discussing queer teachers, trans people in public facilities, or high school boys taking Home Ec, the kids are headed for deep trouble. Now some issues are so grotesque, so horribly misunderstood, so unthinkable, that there could be no margin for error. If two women are so depraved, why, who knows what they’ll do?

Panic has spread, parents are having a meltdown; if they must err on the side of caution, so be it. Even before Amelia Tilford has heard from Karen and Martha, she’s on the phone, based on this flimsy logic. If anything, I believe Hellman has granted these two, caring friends, the exceptionally fair “trial’ we actually witness before us. She wants us to see that even after those involved have every reason to exonerate, they crumble (except the fiance) in the face of chaos.

Some issues are supposedly so catastrophic, that reason left the station yesterday. In defense of Hellman’s wisdom, I think this strategy keeps The Children’s Hour from being didactic. A parable. Though it may not seem so at first. I think the absolute and complete ruin that befalls the two (beyond remedy it would seem) only makes it more clear, just how ruthless, vicious and unconscionable is the crime of Mary.

MainStage’s production of The Children’s Hour was nearly impeccable. Consider Lillian Hellman’s script. How demanding and difficult. The content (of course) was wrenching. Infuriating. Deeply, deeply sad. Intensely focused and poignant performances by the entire cast. (A couple of scenes felt a bit rushed). Dave Tenney’s set design was detailed, and sparse enough to set the mood. Michael Robinson’s 1930’s costume design felt sophisticated and apt, without being ostentatious.

Kudos to MainStage Irving-Las Colinas for staging The Children’s Hour, so timely and rarely performed. What a remarkable production.

MainStage Irving-Las Colinas presented The Children’s Hour It played September 20th-October 5th 2024. 3333 North MacArthur Blvd. Irving, Texas 75062. 972-252-2787. www.MainStageIrving.com

The son of a schoolmaster and seamstress, Dylan Thomas was born October 27^th, 1914. Thomas was a well known, and celebrated author during his own lifetime, not always the case with poets. He slipped into a coma and died at 39 (November 9^th, 1953) while on one of his reading tours to America.

Dylan Thomas seemed to follow the somewhat alarming pattern of male poets of the time. Perhaps that hasn’t changed much. Promiscuity, the pitch black results of excessive drinking, raucousness, a keen grasp of mortality, and intuitive cunning. Sidney Michaels wrote the drama: Dylan, based on the writings of John Malcolm Brinnin and his wife, Caitlin Thomas.

Despite his easy manner, and charismatic bearing, he seemed to be in great emotional and psychological pain. His visits to America were a boost to his self-esteem and his bank account. Poets (even the successful ones) are notoriously poor, so the remuneration was a great benefit, such as it was. And who wouldn’t love the adoration and sexual recreation afforded them, as they traveled America? His wife Caitlin was a long-suffering spouse, though not one to suffer in silence. She was well-aware of his infidelities, however brief. I was intrigued that we could always see her lingerie, perhaps a metaphor the intense lovemaking they shared.

As is often the case, those closest to poets have no interest in what they do, but who they are. Unless, say like Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes: a married couple who were both poets. There is a scene towards the end when Dylan is visiting a bar. His doctor has warned him, emphatically, meticulously, and without equivocation, that even the smallest dose of liquor would be his undoing. He has surrounded himself with shot glasses of sparkling, golden, bourbon. The effect is dazzling.

What could we make of this? He left this realm living as boisterously as possible. He was hoping for a spectacular departure. He died indulging his most pleasurable pastime. That he was determined to mock the Grim Reaper? He certainly wasn’t the first artist to practice flagrant intimacy with death, and certainly not the last.

The Classics Theatre Project’s production of Dylan (directed by Jason Craig West) shines for its extraordinary high wire act. His flaws and the brilliance are laid out for everyone to see. You can’t really pity or feel sorry someone who does exactly what he wants. All the time. It seems fairly clear when the show starts that Mr. Thomas has one foot on a roller skate, the other on a banana peel. Even when he’s made commitments, they’ve got to drag him. We incidentally might hear two complete poems. When all you have left is tone, the tone must be impeccable. As near as I can tell, we are not expected to grieve. You might describe Dylan as a prolonged elegy. Strangely enough, that might just work.

The Classics Theatre Project presents Dylan, playing September 13th-October 5^th, 2024. The Core Theatre, 518 W Arapaho Rd, Ste 115, Richardson, TX, United States, Texas (214) 923-3619. theclassicstheatreproject.com