Category: Critique

Sidney Bruhl is a celebrity detective novelist, though his work hasn’t been altogether absorbing lately. None of his recent books are flops, but not all they might have been. As Deathrap opens, Sidney is ruminating to his wife Myra that a fan sent him a full manuscript, asking for advice. It’s so much better than his current project, that Sidney bemoans the cruel irony. An acolyte has outshined him. His wife Myra is appalled to hear Sidney’s ghoulish solution. As opposed to, say, pushing harder on his craft, or trying a fresh approach.

What follows is a series of surprises, supposed to send us reeling. They are interesting, but not what we’d say are convincing. If your husband showed up in a bear costume, claiming a grizzly had murdered your uncle, no one would blame you for finding this intriguing. But you would still know it was your husband. Whatever you might think of Agatha Christie, her daring turns and red herrings, she always considered credibility. She never expected points for cleverness.

The hub of this mystery is a guilty party that’s never concealed. Suspense pivots on the perpetrator. Will he be caught? I would never say we must like Sidney (or any other character) but the fact is, he’s the protagonist. If we don’t care what happens to him, then what’s to hold our interest? We might be amused by his craftiness and cantankerous cynicism. If not, the story has nothing to fall back on, but plot. So, one incident leads to another, and another, but they don’t stand up to much scrutiny.

Deathtrap was written by Ira Levin. As you probably know, some of Mr. Levin’s captivating writing includes: Rosemary’s Baby, The Stepford Wives, A Kiss before Dying, Veronica’s Room. He is meticulous and brilliant, the recipient of numerous awards. The entire time I was watching Deathtrap I got the feeling we were watching a spoof (or perhaps a riff) on murder mystery tropes. Expectations confounded. Familiar devices eliminated. Playful deception. Ira Levin delivers a shoulder to our ribs, while he makes fun of a tired genre. Perhaps Levin congenially modeled Sidney on himself.

Robyn Mead, has managed to do well by Levin’s script. He couldn’t have asked for a better director. The characters are well conceived, colorful and quirky. Mead has definitely made the most of her dedicated, intelligent cast: Alex Rain (Sidney Bruhl) Heather Walker Shin (Myra Bruhl) Logan Gaconnier (Clifford Anderson) Kelly Moore Clarkson (Helga Ten Dorp) and Kenneth Fullenwider (Porter Milgrim). It was a pleasure and delight to see these performers at the top of their game. They gave the drama energy, zeal and bounce.

I want to thank ACT for permitting me to see Deathtrap on closing weekend.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presented Deathtrap, playing March 18th-April 3^rd, 2022. 1210 East Main Street # 300,  Allen, Texas 75002. (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

From February 17th-March 6^th, 2022, Bishop Arts staged: The How to be Project: Ten Plays for Racial Justice. The folks at Bishop Arts were gracious enough to let me attend on closing weekend, so I was able to catch this vibrant, articulate collection of absorbing one-acts, inspired by How to Be an Antiracist, by Ibram X. Kendi. There is much versatility and fresh content, in this impressive festival of short pieces, written by preeminent playwrights. They varied in tone, mood, angle and worldview. Some were skeptical or cynical, some resigned and some optimistic.

Certain motifs emerged throughout: 

1. The cost of activism and fighting the good fight.
2. Systemic bias and lifelong sacrifice. Racial wounds that go deeper than simple resolutions.
3. The hubris of education that demands its own terms. Rather than finding inclusion of role models from the black community, students must make do with icons of the patriarchy. Impressive figures that nonetheless, fail to resonate.
4. The chasm that often divides African Americans and Caucasians. While genuine desire to care for one another is crucial, finding common context can be difficult.
5. The ridiculous paradigm of upscale bourgeois success.               

What Would Have Been? (Kristen Adele Calhoun) concerns the struggles of a young woman who is living in Greenwich Village (back in the day) who finds her more rebellious soul stirring, and must choose between soulmate and destiny. It’s an epistolary script, the woman and her man reading their letters aloud. The woman’s voice is bright with idealism. The warmth of the young man is unmistakable.

Government Cheese (Eugene Lee) is a tough, powerful monologue by a woman who solemnly instructs her son to respect and do right by the country that supports and protects him. Her sense of ethical behavior is highly evolved, and its clear she wants to meet her Maker with no deficits. She imbues her son with impeccable values, and he listens. The bitter irony that informs Government Cheese is the price a caring soul pays for trusting, and respecting the home of one’s birth; only to discover how precious little that country cares for them. How their joy is robbed.

The Ghost of History (Michael Harrison) considers a young couple, Kayla and Malik, who are very much in love. There is no question of their devotion. Kayla believes in the strength of their connection, but Malik seems resigned to its somber future. Kayla is white and Malik is black, but it’s not that. It’s the loaded past and their place in society. Pain and degradation suffered by one, the other cannot begin to grasp. Each wants to empathize with the other’s situation. But the animosity between their ancestors can’t be ignored.

A Good Neighborhood (Allie Mims) tracks the dynamics between a guy and his precious fiancee’. He wants to remain in the neighborhood that nurtured him, that shaped his values as a man. But his betrothed has other ideas. She doesn’t see warmth and character in his old neighborhood, only decrepitude and deprivation. She’s worse than being upscale, she’s embraced the insipid values of bourgeois white people.

Gray (Erin Malone Turner) depicts a group of four people, sequestered for sociological study and investigation. Their meticulously controlled environment, and documentation of feelings, cannot compensate for the unresolved anger and misery at the core of their interactions. Self Education (Bwalya Chisanga) illustrates the predicament of conscientious, dedicated African American high school students, grasping for substance in the midst of white dominant content. The teachers and faculty aren’t hostile or condescending (exactly) but they seem more concerned with control than enriching the lives of their students.

The How to Be Project reminds us how slowly, how painfully the answers and progress come. It isn’t necessarily discouraging, but its frankness, frustration and anger is sobering.

I wish I’d attended The How to Be Project before closing weekend. I was heartened to see the bustling crowd that last Sunday. The playwrights, along with the versatile performers, capable crew, and resourceful director, Morgana Wilbourn, joined forces to assemble a stunning, intelligent, subtle, entertaining event. The audience was so enormous, I was packed into an otherwise empty room with other excited theatregoers. We were all (if I may be so bold) so delighted to be there.

Bishop Arts Theatre Center presented: The How to be Project: Ten Plays for Racial Justice. It played February 17-March 6^th, 2022. 215 S Tyler St, Dallas, TX, United States, Texas 75208. (214) 948-0716.

 

As a concept piece, High Five revels in strangeness. Lolls in perverse meandering. Five preeminent playwrights, each commissioned to craft a short play, that hinges on one of the five senses. The experience in its entirety taken as a succession of playful, obtuse narratives. Imagine if Matt Lyle, Migdalia Cruz, Regina Taylor, Allison Moore and Jonathan Norton were tasked to write about produce. Lyle (Kumquat) Cruz (Banana) Taylor (Radish) Moore (Turnip) Norton (Mango). What would result? A stew? A salad? A soup? Could you eat it? How would it taste? As we might expect, each vignette tickles us with a twist. Confounds our expectations. Kicks us in the assumptions. And what is life without a revolt to the senses?

SIGHT: A Dance of Joy by Matt Lyle. Jeremy, a teenage boy, is overcome by the ecstatic discovery of a photograph he’s found in the attic. The mere image of this tantalizing, beguiling babe, has sent him reeling. He dances carelessly, overwhelmed by the special tingle each young man finds in his special way. He prances about the stage, until an interruption turns this sacred celebration into an exercise in the grotesque. Lyle has seized upon a way to transform an enchanted ritual into Creepy and the Creepazoids.

TASTE: Dinner with Dee by Migdalia Cruz. We open on a somewhat glum meal between Lydia and a guy named Dee. Right away we can tell there’s something off. They’re eating soup. Dee comments on its lack of flavor. Neither of them seems to be in a good place. Gradually we discover Lydia has more or less kidnapped the Angel of Death, because she’s not ready to go. She pretends everything’s OK, but supposedly, Dee is too polite to insist.

HEARING: What’s Heard Between Words by Regina Taylor. Violet reflects on the meaning of sounds that are preverbal. She remembers particular noises, notes, utterances, and explains how they fit into the score of human existence. What we might call a tangent on Koyaanisqatsi, What’s Heard is like a tonal mosaic. An audible patchwork quilt. It accumulates to make a point. It heads down a path, more organic than a “message” piece. In this sense, it submerges us in the thrall and comfort of a life, but also the anger and disappointment.

TOUCH: Human Resource by Allison Moore. Lennon works in an office where she has her way of doing things. She rejects accepted procedure for tasks. She’s not wrong, exactly, but she’s in steerage, and keeps rockin the boat. She’s an exceptionally nice gadfly. Max, her supervisor, calls her into his office repeatedly, where she exploits his difficulty with self-assertion. The catch is that Moore’s stamping out roaches, while the house is burning down.

SMELL: Ode to Zeb by Jonathan Norton. Far away in the milieu of blue collar sedan, we find Bourbon Scented Car Freshener Tree showing Daisy Fields SCFT the ropes. Ah, the robust and rowdy life of the SCFT. It’s filled with hi-jinks, low-jinks, booze, bros and brawling. How can we not adore the ironically putrid life of these primitive beacons of civilization? It’s like finding out Mary Poppins runs a brothel

Kitchen Dog Theater presents: High Five, playing June 9th-26th, 2022. Trinity River Arts Center. 2600 North Stemmons Freeway, Suite 180, Dallas, Texas 75207. 214-953-1055. kitchendogtheater.org

Maggie is playing hostess to an influential columnist, an art critic and a tycoon who wants to buy a collection of paintings by her deceased husband, Payne Showers. His sudden demise increased the value of his work exponentially. Maggie is on the brink of destitution, but if she can nail this, she’ll be out of the woods. Only she and her colleague Richard know how desperate she is, and they plan to keep it that way, till the documents are signed.

The first obstacle is the arrival of Graciela, who is pinch hitting for the bartender they hired. She’s wearing a strangely inappropriate uniform that might be for a French maid fantasy, Sophistication isn’t her strong suit. Maggie’s boyfriend Trent shows up, an insipid soap opera actor and an accident waiting to happen. The three guests arrive and the snowstorm they’ve all been navigating has trapped them at Maggie’s house together, until the next morning.

Written by Anne Flanagan, Artifice is a comedy which, clobbers Maggie for being deceptive. Hence the title. Not that anything terrible happens, other than a few heart-stopping catastrophes that turn the evening into a debacle. If something can go sideways, it will. The plot feels feasible, and the urgency appropriate. It’s not all about the jokes, Flanagan has great character development, and the script is intelligent, with some surprises along the way.

The premise is familiar, a succession of tribulations that end with contented results. Finding just right balance of upheaval, say like, The Man Who Came to Dinner or The Philadelphia Story can be difficult. Artifice seems to manage this, though it comes from a place of sheer chaos. Pleasure may not exactly prevail. Comedy as we learn time and again, requires meticulous orchestration, from casting till opening night. Even remarkable actors need great chemistry between them. Events often come fast and thick. What’s a mother to do? More than once even less than ideal material has been salvaged by reformers with exceptional comedic skills.

Rover Dramawerks has assembled a strong, dedicated cast for Artifice. Heather Walker Shin is formidable as the long-suffering Maggie, Jordan Poladnik amusing as the frantic gallery owner, Richard. Samantha Potrykus is spot-on as the colorful, worldly, Graciela, and Bennett Frohock a stitch as the vain actor, Trent. Sue Goodner  rules as the eccentric, pompous journalist Judith, Kenneth Fulenwilder imposing as the personable mogul, Mick, and Laura Jennings inspired as the tortured critic, Emma. Christian R. Black is impressive as the painter, Payne Showers. Like Heather Shin, his role calls for more nuance and versatility. He is congenial, intelligent and demonstrative.

Rover Dramawerks presents Artifice, playing June 9th-25th, 2022. Cox Playhouse. 1517 H. Avenue, Plano, Texas, 75074. 972-849-0358. roverdramawerks.com

 

Maggie is playing hostess to an influential columnist, an art critic and a tycoon who wants to buy a collection of paintings by her deceased husband, Payne Showers. His sudden demise increased the value of his work exponentially. Maggie is on the brink of destitution, but if she can nail this, she’ll be out of the woods. Only she and her colleague Richard know how desperate she is, and they plan to keep it that way, till the documents are signed.

The first obstacle is the arrival of Graciela, who is pinch hitting for the bartender they hired. She’s wearing a strangely inappropriate uniform that might be for a French maid fantasy, Sophistication isn’t her strong suit. Maggie’s boyfriend Trent shows up, an insipid soap opera actor and an accident waiting to happen. The three guests arrive and the snowstorm they’ve all been navigating has trapped them at Maggie’s house together, until the next morning.

Written by Anne Flanagan, Artifice is a comedy which, clobbers Maggie for being deceptive. Hence the title. Not that anything terrible happens, other than a few heart-stopping catastrophes that turn the evening into a debacle. If something can go sideways, it will. The plot feels feasible, and the urgency appropriate. It’s not all about the jokes, Flanagan has great character development, and the script is intelligent, with some surprises along the way.

The premise is familiar, a succession of tribulations that end with contented results. Finding just right balance of upheaval, say like, The Man Who Came to Dinner or The Philadelphia Story can be difficult. Artifice seems to manage this, though it comes from a place of sheer chaos. Pleasure may not exactly prevail. Comedy as we learn time and again, requires meticulous orchestration, from casting till opening night. Even remarkable actors need great chemistry between them. Events often come fast and thick. What’s a mother to do? More than once even less than ideal material has been salvaged by reformers with exceptional comedic skills.

Rover Dramawerks has assembled a strong, dedicated cast for Artifice. Heather Walker Shin is formidable as the long-suffering Maggie. Jordan Poladnik amusing as the frantic gallery owner, Richard. Samantha Potrykus is spot-on as the colorful, worldly, Graciela, and Bennett Frohock a stitch as the vain actor, Trent. Sue Goodner “rules” as the eccentric, pompous journalist Judith, Kenneth Fulenwilder imposing as the personable mogul, Mick, and Laura Jennings inspired as the tortured critic, Emma. Christian R. Black is impressive as the painter, Payne Showers. Like Heather Shin, his role calls for more nuance and versatility. He is congenial, intelligent and demonstrative.

Rover Dramawerks presents Artifice, playing June 9th-25th, 2022. Cox Playhouse. 1517 H. Avenue, Plano, Texas, 75074. 972-849-0358. roverdramawerks.com

A whimsical, yet provocative, yet secular yet prophetic yet cavalier yet dead serious theatre piece inspired by the Greil Marcus book of the same name: Lipstick Traces (A Secret History of the 20^th Century) presents events from roughly 1534 (the naked, anti-capitalist anarchy of John of Leydon) to April 2010 and the death of Malcolm McLaren. McLaren, an impresario who produced The Sex Pistols (a band that rejected capitalism) ironically made them his cash cow. Put another way, he enabled an artistic, philosophical, musical anarchy that characterized culture and conversation in 1975. Greil Marcus tracked parallel incidents and eccentric, albeit earnest movements and ideologies, ignored in the mainstream of popular belief. These were pervasively influential, yet barely noticed ideas, in the grand scheme of humanity. That nonetheless had their impact. Their moment.

Created by Rude Mechanicals in Austin, Texas, conceived and directed by Shawn Sides, adapted from the book by Kirk Lynn, Lipstick Traces premiered in 2000. Featuring Dr. Narrator, Johnny Rotten of The Sex Pistols and Malcolm McLaren, Lipstick Traces, bravely, kinetically, cynically AND sincerely plows a plenitude of content, without breaking a sweat. Greil Marcus explores the synchronicity of declarations, protests, spontaneous artistic assertions, musical violations, the transcendence of attitude and casual observations, both enormous and minuscule. Roughly, the common thread might be questioning: religion, authority, money, acquisition, reliable truth, law and propriety.

Lipstick Traces is never boring. It pitches (as lecture) subversive elements throughout Western Civilization. There’s tension between Dr. Narrator, Malcolm McLaren and Johnny Rotten. Wrestling for the microphone, if you will. Lipstick Traces is chock full of rebellion in various manifestations; the 1950 Easter Mass at Notre Dame, disrupted to declare God was dead, the prophetic graffiti and blank screen films of Guy Debord, the Student and Workers riots of 1968, the Cabaret Voltaire, the nightclub and launchpad for the DaDa movement. Writers, social critics, artists, philosophers, heretics. It’s a cosmic montage told with rants, gestures, sneers, projections, slides, reenactments, declarations, dances that are: jaunty and frantic, slow, comic, romantic. There’s a good faith effort to be as inclusive as possible, from scrap to manifesto to heckling to taunt to fury to jeremiad to wholesale dismissal.

I’m never disappointed to see an Outcry Theatre performance. They push, they strive, they dig to engage the intellectual, imaginative, intuitive, fanciful. The shadow. We guffaw, we wail, we gasp, we swoon, we pinch ourselves. Evincing a piece like Lipstick Traces could have been a nightmare, but you’d never know from this sublime, chaotic, defiant performance. I know I’m tripping on adjectives, but need to do justice to this remarkable theatre troupe, and this cyclonic piece in particular. Outcry captures the dream of a crucial, fearless, surreal, intoxicating theatre that longs to seduce our senses. To crack the universe like an egg.

Outcry Theatre presented Lipstick Traces: A Secret History of the Twentieth Century: based on the book of the same name by Greil Marcus. It played from May 26-29th, 2022. Studio Theatre of Addison Conference and Theatre Centre. 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas 75001. (972) 836-7206. outcrytheare.com

 

Lipstick Traces closed May 26th, 2022.

The first time we see Louie Blunt he is learning martial arts at a Dojo. The formality of their practice is evident. The bowing and mutual respect demonstrated before the bout. Contained rage. Measured ferocity. Blows and hitting the floor and finding the will to stand up.

Next we see Jamie, talking with the court ordered therapist, Andrea, regarding his husband Louie’s progress. He is isolating, hostile, rejecting help. Jamie is hurt and frustrated. Andrea tries to walk him through Louie’s predicament, but it’s difficult for him to comprehend his husband’s negative behavior.

Jamie returns home. Louie is gruff and unpleasant. He wants no assistance, though he’s covered with bandages and bruises. The idea that Andrea and Jamie might have been discussing him, enrages Louie. He’s not looking forward to the consultation with their lawyer, and sadly, he has good reason. The court appointed attorney is forthright, and pragmatic, but his insensitivity, impossible to ignore.

Bruce Coleman’s POPT, is a lesson in cunning, intelligent playwriting. There are several red flags from the outset. No one talks about the incident directly, they tiptoe. The hate crime is acted out in the last (or nearly last) scene. Louie seems barraged by the suggestion that fighting back casts him in a bad light. He must be careful of the message he sends to the jury. Each person involved seems baffled that Louie seems combative and defensive. They care, but empathy seems to elude them.

POPT is meticulous. Even the title seems evasive, trivializing. (He was messing with me, so I popped him.) There are aspects of the incident, that feel mitigating, confusing. The attacker’s mother begs Louie to pray with her. Nothing else will resolve this clusterfuck. Her supplications pack a lot of pathos. And punch. All his friends appeal to Louie’s sense of the rational. But what does that mean?

He belongs to a group that will always be at the mercy of toxic alphas. Louie has taken charge of his life. His training has enabled him with strategy, and confidence. (Coleman considers the cultural, solemn dynamic of bout between men.) For the first time, he can vent his intense anger. He can choose not to be helpless. But even those on Louie’s side, miss he’s held to a different standard. He’s exhilarated this motherfucker has paid for his viciousness. His arrogance. But no one gets it.

Please note: POPT has closed.

POPT played From May12th-May 22^nd, 2022. MainStage 222, Black Box Theatre, 222 East Irving Boulevard, Irving, Texas 75062. 972-252-2787. mainstageirving.com

For those of you unfamiliar, the title of this musical comedy classic (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum) probably started in the heyday of vaudeville. It was the on-ramp to countless gags that started with: “A funny thing happened on the way to….the deli, the movies, the grocery, the cleaners…” you name it. It was the set up. Early in his career, Stephen Sondheim wrote the music and lyrics to A Funny Thing….collaborating with Bert Shrevelove and Larry Gelbart, who wrote the book. Inspired by the farces of Ancient Roman playwright, Plautus, A Funny Thing premiered in 1962, winning several Tonys.

Funny’s the story of Pseudolus, a cunning slave who longs to buy his freedom. Hysterium is the other House Slave, and he’s got no use for his hi-jinks. When his master and mistress leave town for some R & R, Pseudolus grabs the chance to help their son, Hero, wed the girl he pines for, Philia. Hesitant at first, Hero promises Pseudolus his emancipation, if he can make the romance happen. Pseudolus begins by taking Hero to the brothel of Marcus Lycus, where the proprietor trots out his “wares” for perusal. It’s there that the (more or less) exquisite Philia is discovered, but Lycus says she’s been promised to Gloriosus, a renowned and victorious officer of the Roman Army. Gloriosus in out of town (though enroute to claim his mistress) so Pseudolus hastily sets the wheels in motion. There are Carmelite nuns who know more about sex than poor, sheltered Hero, so Pseudolus has his work cut out for him. Eventualities, shenanigans and breakneck brainstorms ensues.

Comic Roman playwrights were notorious for their crass, risque’, irreverent comedies, and Plautus was no exception. Funny Thing brims with preposterous, hokey, bawdy capers and silly puns too ridiculous to be offensive. What was considered blue in 1962 is quite innocuous in light of the television comedies of 2022. Which doesn’t make it any less tickling. Apart from the histrionic, exhausting, logic-defying plot, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum thumbs its nose at the conventional tropes of Romantic Comedy. The courtship of Hero and Philia is insipid and laughable. Much funnier than lofty ardor by far. Philia sings the inane (though pretty) “Lovely”:  I’m lovely. Positively lovely. Gloriosus is a pompous, narcissistic buffoon. Hero’s dad tries to have sex with Philia. Funny Thing delights in dismissing the admirable, the pure, the honorable and the brave. Don’t miss this high-octane, fast-talking, shamelessly skeptical, daffy romp.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, playing May 20th-June 5^th, 2022. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113. Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net

A Wizard (The Lazarus) Ednocah, a captured Angel (Ednocah) and the Cuckoo Bird (Null Nath Ani) converge to assist Lazarus. He is the man they call “father”, and he aches to marry the Moon. Ednocah is blindfolded and plays the cello. She does his bidding, but is never abused or degraded in servitude. Same for Null, a wildly kinetic guy, like Peter Pan, barely dressed. He first appears wearing a Kellogg’s Cornflakes Box, like a mask. Like the Frog Prince, he pines for his days as a creature, rather than mortal. Wizard found Cuckoo in the jaws of a wolf, and rescued him from being devoured. Eventually Lazarus compels Null to assist in the spell (by which he will woo the moon) translating from the designated text, providing instruction to his Lunar Smitten Papa.

In some ways we might perceive this performance as living tableau, the Angel singing and bowing her cello, sweetly, solemnly. Lazarus the raving, visionary sorcerer, rushing through primordial digs, nattering, bumping, spilling scalding tea. Null, leaping and hopping, making shrill bird noises. Resentful and despondent. There are flasks and vials for elixirs and mickeys. A table that’s probably an altar as well. The room is half parlor, half chamber for eliciting charm and enchantment. Upstage is a “window” revealing the enormous, phenomenal, moon. As we might expect, presented as female. As we settle in, we notice her eyelids fluttering. This depiction evokes the moon from early days of film when the Melies Brothers shot their story of dizzy wizards taking a rocketship to the moon.

Ochre House has so many unique, otherworldly, frenetic gifts when it comes to theatre as strangeness. Theatre as evocation. Theatre as ritual. As the narrative of Under the Moon unwinds we feel we have stumbled into the wrong place. This milieu with its stone and bubble and talisman and relaxed mixture of benign and defiant ids. We are transported. We are welcome intruders. We are gobsmacked voyeurs. Who but the tremulous nymphs and goblins at Ochre House would have such deadpan, palpable audacity? Who among us has not been intoxicated by the enigmatic, seductive moon? What guy doesn’t shudder at the thought of circumcision? From time to time, haven’t we been homesick for swooping from tree to tree, crying out in unbridled, sprawling sentience? Under the Moon takes the elemental, the mystical, the heartsick, and sweet madness that mortality whispers to us, and bestows it without fear.

Go. Go. Go.

Ochre House presents: In The Garden: Under the Moon (written and directed by Matthew Posey) playing June 1st-4th, 2022. 825 Exposition Ave, Dallas, TX, United States, Texas 75206. (214) 826-6273. www.ochrehousetheater.org

An untitled, early play by Anton Chekhov (adapted and directed by Joey Folsom) Sex, Guns and Vodka is set at a Christmas party, hosted by the Vonitsevas, a wealthy, convivial married couple. They are blowing balloons and sipping drinks, before the guests arrive.  They are the sort you see at a crowded bash. The quiet, beautiful woman under her husband’s thumb. The effusive, elated guy, kissing everybody. Drunk and happy to be alive. The older guy in the bad toupee, sharing “back-in-the-day” wisdom. The zaftig, Earth Mother. The squeaky, emotional woman. The exquisite, ethereal lass, almost too glorious to touch. The introspective intellectuals. The mischievous aristocrats. The awkward and loquacious.

Of particular note is Platonov, an obnoxious, appalling, insulting prick. He truly is a buzzkill, ignoring boundaries, shamelessly molesting the ladies, creepy and spoiling everyone’s enjoyment. Rasputin without the charisma. He seems to take pleasure in messing with people’s heads. As time passes, Platonov puts the moves on each of the female guests, and (much to my chagrin) succeeds! Perhaps it’s the intersection of privacy and opportunity. Perhaps some women (and yes, men) get a tingle from shtupping a guy with no warmth or propriety.

There are several phenomena that make for marvelous satire, and drama. The best parties have a profusion of guests, endless liquor, and proceed (or digress) till the last dog is hung. They wind down on their own clock. Alcohol is the playwright’s friend. It brings out frankness, and preposterous, reckless behavior. What more could you ask for? On a loftier note, in life and on the stage, these kinds of affairs create a quirky, rich, freewheeling cosmos. Guests take chances. They confide, they get philosophical. It’s a pensive, frothy pageant of humanity.

Director Joey Folsom manages Sex, Gun and Vodka with a keen, instinctive sense of pace, timing and tone. They are numerous moving parts, stories within stories, pathos juggled with insanity juggled with profundity juggled with the ridiculous. Folsom has brought us a nuanced, surprising, pleasurable view of what it means to be human, what it means to be seduced, what it means to be livid, what it means to be enraptured, what it means to intoxicated by the company of others. Guns are fired, mouths kissed, liquor gulped, egos stroked and rendezvous missed. Folsom hits the notes meticulously and brings out Chekhov’s playfulness without ignoring his affection for we pathetic, flawed, remarkable, broken mortals.

The Classics Theatre Project Presents Sex, Guns and Vodka (the untitled first play by Anton Chekhov) playing May 20th-June 11^th, 2022. The Margo Jones Theater at Fair Park, 1121 First Avenue, Dallas, Texas 75210. 214-923-1619. www.theclassicstheatreproject.com