Category: Critique

 

It’s the last dress rehearsal before the opening of Drop Dead. Chaz is not doing well, in his role as the longtime Barrington butler. Another keeps stumbling over the name, “Penelope”. The wealthy producer keeps pressuring the director, and deferring to his daughter (Candy) the “ingenue”. The set leaves much to be desired, the guy playing the detective feels uninspired, and Candy has the range of a popgun. Mona, the former star, is temperamental and contentious, and the grand lady of the stage is all but stone deaf. The lofty, eccentric playwright, Alabama Miller, keeps showing up on set, blasted and out of control. The show is imploding, and solutions seem elusive and unreliable.

Sometimes the names of characters can tell a lot. Chaz Looney: the loopy rookie actor. Candy Apples: the insipid, erstwhile porn actress. The vain, pompous director: Victor Le Pew. P.G. “Piggy Banks”: (tehe) the wealthy, bossy producer. Drop Dead is a kind of play within a play. A woebegone production, cursed by mishaps, incompetence, a shoestring budget (for starters) finds itself under attack by an actual murderer. It’s the kind of comedy that makes death the punchline. Playwrights Billy Van Zandt and Jane Milmore exploit the often overlooked absurdity of bodies piling up. A fact often ignored in say, Hamlet and The Lieutenant at Inishmore.

Drop Dead, a spoof of familiar “whodunits”, takes the story of a sinking production, and stitches it to murder mystery, blurring the lines between the fanciful onstage, and grisly backstage events. Director Leigh Wyatt Moore has risen to the occasion, with confidence and aplomb. The gags: physical, verbal, practical and ridiculous comes thick and fast. A corpse under a sheet might be subject to rigor mortis. A “dying” actress can’t keep her knees together. Chaz and Candy are a snogging machine. And Mona is busy preserving her precious ego. Moore keeps the blocking tight, the pace moving and the timing impeccable. She manages this spirited, versatile, adroit cast with the precision of an orchestra conductor.

If ubiquitous chaos and calamity have been kicking your tuchas, why not pay a visit to Richardson Theatre Centre, where punchy, preposterous shenanigans are on the loose? You know you want to.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents Drop Dead, playing February 4th-20th, 2022. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net

Alan and Annette Raleigh and Michael and Veronica Novak have come together to resolve an incident between their two sons: Henry and Ben. It seems Ben hit Henry in the mouth with a stick, when he called Ben “a snitch.” Veronica’s arranged this meeting to settle the particulars, and reach a civilized agreement. Everyone is gracious at the outset, commenting on the calla lilies, the pastry, the regrettable encounter. In a moment of metaphoric stage action, Annette, upset by an eruption of truculence, gets sick on a rare book of art history. Civilization is no match for the chaos of battle.

It doesn’t take a psychic to surmise that four adults, expected to behave like grownups, will go sideways fairly soon. After all, theatrical friction never came from people playing nice. Despite an encouraging start, the Raleighs and Novaks find their plans for an amicable treaty gradually deteriorating. Should the parents be there when Ben and Henry meet? Is Ben the only culpable party? Are boys just naturally prone to brutality? The charitable gathering turns to comic exchange. Then, things take a dark tone. There are recriminations, personal attacks, oversteps.

Playwright Yasmina Reza has (at the end of the day) fashioned an allegory on the ugliness of violence. Altruism versus self-interest. Spirituality versus the visceral. God of Carnage is a cunning drama that masquerades as humor. The characters act out (if you will) the contradictions and perils that come with fixing any loaded issue. Such as protecting our sons. And the compulsive (if unconscious) need to train warriors in a world that would gobble them up. Our need to be the best humans we can is at odds with the impulse to fight or get the hell out. God of Carnage blindsides us with a 180. We drop our guard and get cozy with humor, before we see how vicious conflict can get.

The remarkable cast: Joe Barr (Alan Raleigh) Molly Bower (Veronica Novak) Kevin Moriarty (Michael Novak) Megan Tormey (Annette Raleigh) under the keen eye of director Jennifer Stephens Stubbs, have proven their chops for tumultuous, nuanced, unnerving and wonderfully entertaining performance. One can only imagine the rigorous, challenging and dedicated work behind such a glorious production. This is theatre gone haywire. And it’s amazing.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents: God of Carnage, playing January 28th-February 13^th, 2022. 1200 East Main Street #300, Allen, Texas 75002. 844-822-8489. www.allencontemporarytheatre.net

 

Lord Loveworthy is in a pickle. His daughter Emily is engaged to marry an Earl, and being Father of the Bride he’s obliged to pick up the tab. Loveworthy is a novelist, and such is the nature of literature and society, that he doesn’t net nearly enough to manage the expenses. He invites Miles Monger, a revered literary critic, and his wife Millicent to tea, planning to get Miles alone long enough to extort the necessary funds. Without so much as disclosing the secrets, he guarantees that before the evening is done, Miles will gladly pay for the wedding. Quite unexpectedly, Emily shows up early, with a scruffy, bucolic, mountain man in tow. Baffled and perplexed, Lord and Lady Loveworthy, insist that Emily’s new love interest depart forthwith.

Lord Loveworthy is handsome, long-suffering and glib. His wife, Lillian, is peevish, put-upon and contemptuous of men, with all their foibles and stupidity. Fennimore, the Butler, is efficient, and deliciously cheeky. Miles, is an erudite, arrogant critic, pedantic and obnoxious. His wife, Millicent, is submissive, kind, and much more savvy than she appears. Emily is intelligent, enlightened, assertive and confrontational. Emily’s new boyfriend is salt-of-the-earth, rugged, self-sufficient and (*sigh*) gallant.

Written by Jeff Goode, Love Love’s A Pornographer is an homage/mashup of The Comedy of Manners perfected by Oscar Wilde and Noel Coward. This play  is not so much an imitation as a spoof of a spoof. A send-up of a genre. Mistaken identities, snobbish rejection of American culture, subterfuge; juicy gossip, dry and obtuse insults, propriety above all else. The plot and dialogue are gleefully Byzantine and (as we might surmise from the title) decadent behavior is applied like tinsel on a Blue Spruce. These familiar elements are all present, and used to great effect.  Goode takes great pleasure in humbling the aristocracy by mocking and humiliating them. Miles Monger is clearly the most duplicitous, treacherous, haughty and deprecating among them, so naturally he is lambasted with great vigor.

Love Love’s A Pornographer is spirited, clever entertainment. Jeff Goode exploits the tropes of British hubris and the absurdity of affectation, with great gusto and finesse. The cast (under the deft navigation of Carol Rice) is positively submerged in the intricate, defiantly elaborate, unbelievably preposterous plot, jumping into chaos without trepidation or hindrance of rational . All the better to tickle you with, my dear.

Love Love’s A Pornographer starred: Christian R. Black, Blake Rice, Penny Elaine, Lucia Welch, Eddy Herring, Sara Parisa and Matthew Strauser.

Rover Dramawerks presented Love Love’s A Pornographer: January 13th-22nd, 2022. Cox Playhouse, 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas, 75074. 972-849-0358. www.roverdramawerks.com

Don’t miss Sweet Revenge, March 17th-26th, 2022.

A goodhearted, somewhat intrepid, repertory theater in Seattle is struggling to stay afloat. The director, Zorah, swings between quite resourceful to overcome with emotion. Zorah certainly has her hands full with the resident troupe of players. She must accommodate egos and eccentricity and the frantic energy that pervades rehearsals for their current production of A Christmas Carol. One of the cast members used to date her, and reminds her constantly of what they had. Another (Larry) compulsively sneaks changes into classic dramas, that supposedly makes them more socially conscientious. And unrecognizable. Part analyst, part babysitter, part referee and part juggler, Zorah, takes it all on, with enviable composure. Kind of.

In the midst of rehearsals, Zorah learns their theater is on the verge of bankruptcy. Funding they’ve previously counted on, has dried up, and A Christmas Carol has always been the show that nets considerable cash. Larry’s up to his usual subversive tactics, and the last thing they need is to meddle with success. They get wind that a representative of the NEA is coming to evaluate their qualifications for subsidy. In the meantime, a sweet-natured (if unskilled) “actor” shows up, and they mistakenly assume he’s the NEA rep. Undercover. Someone they’d never have cast before, is indulged and pampered, and treated to Zorah’s more “seductive” side.

Playwright Daniel Sullivan (and The Seattle Repertory Theatre) has constructed a comedy from the very plausible premise of a small, desperate, dedicated theatre company, doing everything to keep head above water, and pull the show together by opening night. In a strange way, Inspecting Carol is a kind of loopy valentine to the theatre. Sullivan has rigged a pretty wicked mousetrap, and the lunacy just keeps coming. In the fine tradition of Sir William, no gag is too refined or too squalid. Like an alley cat seeking a scrap of food, catastrophe and mishap are always lurking. With splendid results.

I was fortunate enough to see Inspecting Carol closing weekend, and couldn’t write my column before it did. Like so many productions I’ve seen at Richardson Theatre Center, the performers never lack for impeccable timing, impressive comic chops and shameless audacity. Inspecting Carol was a delight and Richardson Theatre Centre will always welcome you, with chipper smiles and warm hugs.

Inspecting Carol played Richardson Theatre Center from December 3rd-19th, 2021. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net

Ken and Chris Gorman are the first guests to arrive at a dinner party, thrown by Charlie Brock and his wife, Myra. Chris and Ken have found Charlie, non-fatally shot, knocked out on Valium. Myra is MIA and the cooks are nowhere to be found. The kitchen is empty. Charlie is Deputy Mayor of New York, and Ken has chosen to conceal an attempted suicide, studiously avoiding a scandal. Lenny and Claire Ganz arrive next, emerging from a non-fatal collision, though Lenny probably has whiplash or something. Lenny immediately starts asking questions, when he’s not bitching about his car. This keeps the story moving, of course, as Ken’s preposterous attempts at obfuscation keep us simultaneously amused and anxious. That being said, Lenny obviously enjoys being an obnoxious schmuck, and the first time we see Claire flip him off, we want to cheer.

Other couples keep arriving. Glen and Cassie Cooper. Ernie and Cookie Cusack. A second gunshot is heard. Cookie, a television chef decides to cook for everybody, and Ernie winds up with nasty cut, while helping her. Cassie is convinced that Glen is stepping out on her (infidelity is a recurring theme) and in a frantic moment, accidentally flushes her New Age crystal down the toilet. It’s not long before the cops show up at the front door, throwing this perpetual tailspin into another gear.

Neil Simon was certainly not the first playwright to create farce by way of havoc. The Man Who Came to Dinner, The Curious Savage, Noises Off, Titanic, all come to mind. The beauty of Rumors is the character development, intelligent strategy, marvelous timing, and creation of actual content. Each couple in Rumors has their particular dynamic, established early, each making their contribution to the insanity. Too often, playwrights seem to think that if they keep the hilarity going, non-stop; well, something’s got to stick. Yet, it’s easy enough to grasp that the closer we keep to the plausible, the funnier it actually is. Some playwrights feed us a boisterous, sumptuous meal. Some dump the food in our laps.

Director Janette Oswald must be a force of nature. Armed with a bold, fizzy, flexible cast (with excellent comedy chops) Ms. Oswald orchestrates this splendid chaos with confidence and meticulous realization. She has taken on the overwhelming task of bringing clarity to a universe under siege. Wrestle polar bears? Why not? Dive into a volcano? Did it last week. Rumors was a tonic in these unsettling days, smart and giddy and wielding the punchline of the Yiddish Proverb: Man plans. God laughs. Even if it’s something as simple as a dinner party.

Allen’s Community Theatre presented Rumors: November 19th-December 11^th, 2021. 1210 East Main Street, # 300, Allen, Texas 75002. (844) 822-8849

 

This December will mark the 17^th Anniversary staging of Black Nativity by Bishop Arts Theatre Center in Oak Cliff. Written by Harlem Renaissance poet Langston Hughes, Black Nativity tells the story of the birth of the Christ Child, through the lens of the African American Community. It begins in the home of a pastor, making pancakes for her daughter, who’s listening to music and working on an essay for class. She’s been up all night, but time has run out, and they must hurry to make it to church on time. They pick up a couple more friends/parishioners, and bear down on the gas pedal. After she’s introduced as a special guest, Pastor Imani Johnson begins to preach. She begins testifying to the congregation, and us, too. She describes the infinite mercy and love that brought our Savior here, for the sake of salvation.

This being my fourth visit to Black Nativity I can tell you, that Langston Hughes (and Bishop Arts) have got a few things figured out it. You needn’t be somber to respectful. Sprawling energy can be very entertaining, even in a Bible story. Some comic relief is always welcome. Black Nativity is skillfully, cheerfully conceived to touch us with its message of radiant joy and a God who loves us, no matter what.

Co-Directors Zetra Goodlow and Albert Wash II have brightened the narrative with splendid, original touches. Dancers in glowing colors pop up throughout the show, enhancing the air of celebration. A Guardian Angel sit far upstage, beneath an enormous star, playing the cello. Members of the congregation, and those who dwell in Bethlehem, ignore the fourth wall, whether its to broaden the performance space, or interact with the audience: inviting us to buy flowers, join in the service, or share in the Sweet Tidings.

This interpretation ingeniously creates a context of how folks spend their days in the world. Children playing in the street, churchgoers bouncing in a car that’s half eggbeater, or Magi getting ready for an arduous journey. There’s lots of physical comedy and sketch work.The Three Wise Men competing for best gift, the man who must rescue a poor soul who’s passed out, but not without venting some frustration. This is one of Black Nativity’s greatest strengths. It doesn’t sacrifice humanity for the sake of piety; which is not to say it lacks for devotion. It makes the miracle of a messiah accessible, by depicting the world Jesus came into. They’re not afraid to show us Mary’s problems navigating pregnancy, or brothers taunting each other. It’s this insight and intuitive impulses that makes Bishop Arts Black Nativity an exhilarating, exuberant, memorable spectacle.

Bishop Arts Theatre Center presents Black Nativity, playing December 16th-18th, 2021.  215 South Tyler Street, Dallas, TX, United States, Texas, 75208. (214) 948-0716. info@bishopartstheatre.org

A young couple takes a shot at reconciliation. He has been sleeping on the floor of the studio where he paints. She’s been trying to function as an autonomous human being, who nonetheless wants their relationship to work. When he returns, duffle bag and birdcage in hand, he is tentative and eager to get it right. Perhaps his new bird will be company for “Sweetpea” the one they kept before he was shown the door. She sits down with him and suggests they always discuss the “big scaries”: i. e. uncomfortable truths that might sabotage meaningful connection. She also recommends they explore secret fantasies. In this realm they can be all things to each other, without fear.

Initially the situation feels reassuring. So far so good. He is vigilantly deferential and she is considerate, if subtly and (perhaps unintentionally) manipulative. Old habits die gradually. An incident of unwashed spoons (always a hazardous oversight) nearly escalates, but she manages Herculean restraint. The two birds are exploring emotions and boundaries. Sweetpea is touchy and brusque. She’s not used to sharing space. “Buddy” is respectful and ready to step out of her way, when indicated.

Our two winged consorts seem to speak the buried emotions so difficult for our intrepid couple to articulate. It seems impossible to miss that “Sweetpea” is also their safeword. Along the way there are fresh, amusing metaphors. A distinct air of tension lurks behind subdued dialogue. We sense an eruption is waiting, just around the corner. No rainbow and pie here. Mixed signals precipitate a meltdown.

Playwright Janielle Kastner lays out a congenial, conscientious narrative of two kind-hearted souls, trying to salvage a romance informed by grace and warmth. Their strategy begins with flawed (if not uncommon) myths. No lovers can meet every need. Nor should they try. That’s why the world includes say: mothers, sisters, grandads, aunts, buddies, and so on. When he suggests they each take a turn playing mother, for example, it amounts to a red flag that’s ignored. Another blind spot is the understanding that compromise is key. At the risk of creating a litany, we’ll move on.

Laudably, Kastner uncovers the excruciating detail that sends the well-intentioned into a tailspin. She explains almost nothing. But just enough to demonstrate the complicated, messy commitment that intense bonding requires. If the outcome is inevitable, we never know if it was because he and she were unable, or unwilling to hold it together. Too many near misses, too many missed opportunities. Sweetpea is powerful, compelling drama, and boy, is it painful.

Second Thought Theatre presents the world premier of Janielle Kastner’s Sweetpea, playing November 19th- December 11^th, 2021. 3400 Blackburn Street (Kalita Humphreys Campus) Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-897-3021. secondthoughttheatre.com

Hannah and Franklyn are a young, Jewish married couple, and so are their dearest friends: Martha and Ben. Ben and Frank are college buddies. Frank and Hannah are the quieter couple. Martha and Ben always argue, but not like, say, Albee’s ..Virginia Woolf. The four have trials, but love each other, and take it in stride.

Both couples are trying to get pregnant. They’ve spent years going to specialists, looking for a successful strategy. Through a couple of curious coincidences, Frank finds Allison, a college Freshman who prefers to find her baby a home, rather than explain to family in Iowa. Somewhere along the way, however, they get the impression that Allison’s Jewish, and she assumes Frank and Hannah are goyim.

In Kosher Lutherans, playwright William Missouri Downs has written an absorbing, entertaining narrative, both wisecracking and wise. Struggles endured by the friends are often crushing. Curveballs Martha describes as God’s way of blindsiding us. Humor can alleviate catastrophe. Downs has an intuitive feel these slapdash koans, seeming contradictions to explain deeper problems, like the point of suffering. Jokes to bridge the inexplicable and undeniably comical. “I bought strawberry lube, but my wife’s allergic.”

The second act is notably funnier, but that’s obviously the idea. Downs is faithful to what the story needs. What are Hannah and Frank willing to forfeit for an end to misery? Downs is cunning in his nuance. He manages a balance between handing out yarmulkes and characters so generic they might be agnostic or Wiccan.

Director Rick Tuman deserves kudos as well as his deeply involved, intrepid cast. Kurt Kelley (Franklyn) Sara Rashelle (Hannah) Trevor Smith (Ben) Kristi Smith (Martha) and Lydia Williams (Allison) keep the chemistry punchy and plausible. Believable but believably absurd. They avoid the urge to nudge us, leaving room to identify with characters. Instead of selling the punchline.

Kosher Lutherans engages us with the lives of friends who care so much, who offer guidance and warmth. Downs works in surprising turns, gags with chutzpah and pointed wit. Humor nearly coalesces with the hopeless. But somehow it works. This is a strong, touching, memorable show.

Rover Dramawerks presents: Kosher Lutherans, playing November 11th-20th, 2021. Cox Playhouse, 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas 75074. 972-849-0358. www.roverdramawerks.com

Ruth and Charles Condomine are British aristocrats, filling their days with parties, teas, and other social gatherings. One day Ruth decides it would be amusing to invite Madame Arcati, a medium, to come over and hold a séance for their guests. From the minute she arrives, it’s obvious Arcati’s off her chump, going on about necessary elements for the welcoming ritual, including the exclusion of red meat from her dinner. None of this implies (of course) that she’s not a legitimate channel. They switch to a smaller table, light a candles, place their hands on the surface. Arcati circles about, drawn into a trance, carrying on (Oh wait. Is someone there? Rap once for yes.) then shrieking like a banshee and conking out.

Considering the ceremony a disappointment, the guests leave and the Condomines chat over aperitifs before bedtime. Much to his chagrin, Charles discovers Elvira, the ghost of his late wife, has decided to pay a visit. Now Elvira isn’t some creepy, eerie, moldy deceased entity. Oh no. She’s exquisite. Willowy, patrician, withering, intelligent and a jovial nuisance. She’s not above insulting her husband’s current wife outright. Ruth cannot hear, but once Charles reveals that Elvira has returned, Ruth gets when she’s being mocked. And once Elvira’s started confronting Charles with his equally disgusting behavior, the two square off. The Condomines are dismayed to find Arcati has no clue how to return Elvira, to the Invisible Choir.

Like Oscar Wilde and Tom Stoppard, Noel Coward has a knack for clever, understated satire. Elvira is an absolute terror, and (excuse the expression) poisonous as hell. Not so much a penchant for belittling, but the passing, airy, snide remark. Her her cringe-worthy jibes at Ruth, exposes the weaknesses in Charles’ present marriage. Of course, Mr. Coward is a champion at subversive spoof. A waiting list for visitation requests, an annoying little girl ghost who brokers supernatural consortium, this sort of thing. Once we gather how fatuous and self-absorbed the characters are, any sympathy all but evaporates.

The cast of Richardson’s Theatre Centre’s Blithe Spirit is spot on, and quite skilled at tone and touch. Carol Rice (Ruth) Robert San Juan (Charles) Leigh Wyatt Moore (Edith) Anthony Magee (Dr. Bradman) Michelle Goltzman (Mrs. Bradman) Lorna Woodford (Madame Arcati) Blair Taylor (Elvira) harmonize as though they they’ve rubbed elbows for years, and pick up cues with stealth and finesse. British humor isn’t always easy to perform, so much of it’s about subtext and culture. But Director Rachael Lindley pulls it off, and the evening was a roaring success.

Blithe Spirit was presented at Richardson Theatre Centre and it played October 15th-31st, 2021. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecenteorg

In February of 2012, 5 women (wearing brightly colored ski masks) entered The Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow and staged a protest of an illegal Presidential Election, shouting a 45-second punk prayer: Virgin Mary chase Putin away!  They were removed by force. After the tape of the event was posted on YouTube, they were arrested as enemies of the state. But once the tape went worldwide, their performance became the greatest piece of performance art in Russian history. The women were tried for hooliganism, and 3 were sent to prison. Though subjected to horrific torture (including sexual abuse) it’s been suggested their celebrity spared them from execution. As explained by its members, Pussy Riot is a movement, not a band. Anyone who’s been subjugated or marginalized can join. Just stage a public protest, and you’re in.

IMPRINT Theatrework’s production of Barbara Hammond’s We are Pussy Riot (or Everything is P.R.) is predicated on the concept that subversive ideas are more easily accepted under the guise of humor, or, as Pussy Riot would have it:  Revolution is fun!  There is a fine tradition of speaking truth to power through satire. From Court Jesters who were given free reign, to mad Biblical prophets, to political cartoonists, the role of the giddy or eccentric idiot, who nonetheless has the leverage to reveal uncomfortable facts, has held steady for centuries.

The set consists of chain link fences, large black blocks, neon colored and plain protest signs, flyers, banners. There are numerous costumes and props and the actors playing various parts including symbolic roles: a nun (the church) doctor, professor (intelligentsia) judge (government) putin, reporter (the media). The piece (transcribed from court documents) presents a true, contemporary fable of ordinary women who express their discontent through congenial, civil disobedience. Their conduct is not destructive, aggressive or harmful. No one is assaulted or intimidated, no profanity invoked, no property damaged. And yet this small group of mischief makers are persecuted, ill-used by the justice system, provided with sketchy defense, and sentenced disproportionately for their “crimes”.

The spirited, agile, versatile cast jumps in with all four limbs, joyous and earnest and proactively inviting the audience to participate, without leaving their seats. I was handed a scarf, a balaklava (orange knitted mask) and a Dove chocolate. We Are Pussy Riot! Is a withering, comical, brave, sardonic narrative that moves, mostly at a breakneck pace, including a kangaroo court, an intellectual who dies from hunger strike, a song and dance by the smarmy fascist himself (Putin on the Ritz) and rowdy hi-jinks. Chaos. Tragedy. Rage. Contempt.

Buffoonery as a tool for those on the side of the angels. A feel for the slapdashed yet deadly sincere. All in the service of a simple plea: We have the right to our dignity. We have the right to be heard. Pussy Riot set forth a paradigm for plain, everyday folks to demand respect. To make the distinction between assertion and criminal activity.

Imprint Theatreworks presents We are Pussy Riot (or Everything is P.R.) October 29th-November 13th, 2021. Thursdays through Saturdays. The Bath House Cultural Center. 521 East Lawther Drive, Dallas, Texas 75218. 214-670-8749. www.IMPRINTtheatreworks.org