Category: Critique

My understanding is that Christmas, the actual birthdate of Jesus of Nazareth, was changed to December, all the better to eclipse pagan solstice celebrations. It should come as no surprise that there are numerous feasts, rituals, narratives and sacraments attached to the Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year, when the harvest is safely stored, and the earth itself hibernates under a blanket of snow. In the spirit of inclusiveness, Theatre 3 has constructed Solstice, a kind of revue, in which an ensemble invites our participation in the wonder of the supernatural, the pantheistic, the giddy world of sprites and sorcery, a kind of pastiche of various traditions intersecting in the strange magic that comes with the first frissons of winter. Rather than succumbing to the Western preoccupation with Judeo-Christian culture, Solstice suggests other kinds of worship. A different angle on the curious and endlessly enigmatic world around us.

Aunt Brighid is babysitting her niece when the electricity goes out, and they must light a candle to ward off the darkness. Conversation turns to the beguiling and intoxicating charms available to humanfolk only under the cover of darkness. The Girl asks her Auntie if they can explore this forbidden, irresistible realm, and Brighid concedes. But with the proviso that when stories are shared, lives intertwine, whether we want them to or not. They enter the forest where they encounter various non-human entities, all with their role to play in the balance between nature and cosmological imperatives. Since this journey is treated as enlightenment for the girl, Solstice is childlike, which may or may explain the use of puppetry. Puppets are certainly not exclusive to children’s theatre, but here it may have set the wrong tone.

Several anecdotes had the panache of the unexpected. An elderly couple still vibrant enough to make a picnic in the woods, where they could kiss and enjoy a buzz from hydrocodone. An Italian witch who must atone for snubbing her invitation to join The Three Magi. A frantic narrative from the protagonist of Poe’s The Telltale Heart, woven (rather perversely) with traditional Christmas Carols. Some of these endeavors manage better than others. Paulette and Stuart (perhaps in their winter years?) fall under the spell of stars and deep night, steeped in transgression and giddy, celebratory playtime.

Le Befana gets a lot of punch from Italian peasant shtick: “The gravy’s not going to stir itself.” A Poe Man’s Christmas Carol was something of a reach. The impulse to undercut the quaint and customary with the irreverent and mischievous is a sound one, but as a whole, Solstice didn’t altogether coalesce. Ironically, the epilogue in which the niece, left on her own, casts a spell from the serendipitous altar of her bed, was marvelously effective.

The idea behind T3’S Solstice was deliciously subversive, an attempt to recover ancient cultures and adoration tread upon by Christian imperialism. Perhaps to err on the side of caution, the spectacle feels deferential, considering we come to the theatre to partake of the unrevealed, the otherworldly, the less presentable. Hints at the realms beyond were pervasive, but perhaps too understated. That being said, there was lots of merriment and warmth. The gleeful and the bizarre. Wassail was served at the end of the first act, and it was clear the ensemble was there to give us a splendid, entertaining journey.

Theatre 3 presents: Solstice: Stories and Songs for the Holidays, November 24th-December 17^th, 2017. 2800 Routh Street, Suite 168, Dallas, Texas 75201-1417. 214-871-3300. theatre3dallas.com.

Casey is an Elvis impersonator who performs at a divey nightclub in Panama City, Florida. He is married to a very warm and devoted woman named Jo, and between the two of them, they barely have enough to pay the bills. Just ordering a pizza sends their finances into a tailspin. Nightclub owner Eddie is teetering on the verge of destitution himself. When his cousin Tracy shows up, revealing herself as a drag performer, he gives this new direction a whirl. When Miss Rexy (the other queen) passes out drunk, desperation drives Eddie to give Casey an ultimatum. Either do the Piaf number in a dress, or he’s fired. So begins Casey’s education as a drag performer, under the tutelage of Miss Tracy.

As we might guess, not only does Casey have a flare for drag, he actually warms up to it. Much as he enjoys playing Elvis, something about creating a female identity resonates with him. Tracy helps him with technique, finding his own persona, choosing the best numbers for his skill set. The pay is better than he ever imagined, but he doesn’t have the nerve to explain to his wife. When she shows up one evening unexpectedly, their recently carefree marriage is suddenly on the rails. When Jo leaves abruptly and Casey runs after her, Eddie, Tracy and Rexy all seem to feel betrayed, though they understand his urgent need to do damage control.

Playwright Matthew Lopez explores the world of drag performance and female impersonation with all the attitude, lingo, humor, and complex, exhilarating culture. We know that Casey is at least somewhat open-minded or he wouldn’t have married a woman of color. The Legend of Georgia McBride is a comedy in which our hero learns by happenstance that there’s something fulfilling about giving himself permission to express his most extravagant, “feminine” impulses. It actually makes him a better person. The fact that he enjoys drag doesn’t mean he wants other men, though that discovery here seems almost beside the point. It’s admirable that Lopez uses humor to reveal that drag isn’t really so foreign to male heterocentrist nature, and reimagines the straight nuclear family in the bargain. There were times when comprehension and gender anarchy didn’t seem to quite intersect, but we certainly gain a better understanding of the art, if the not the science.

The second salient aspect of Georgia McBride is the scintillating glitz and finery of transgender entertainment. Thanks to mad skills and fantabulous imaginations of Suzi Cranford (Costumes) and Coy Covington (Wigs and Makeup). What a rush to see so much glamour, bells and whistles, and what felt like an endless number of costume changes. The Legend of Georgia McBride is certainly a paean to the raucous, raunchy, genuine world of drag entertainment, and we’re given ample opportunity to revel in the brash, pulsing tunes and life-loving celebration.

Uptown Players presents The Legend of Georgia McBride. Playing December 1st-17th, 2017. Kalita Humphreys Theater, 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-219-2718. uptownplayers.org

Casey is an Elvis impersonator who performs at a divey nightclub in Panama City, Florida. He is married to a very warm and devoted woman named Jo, and between the two of them, they barely have enough to pay the bills. Just ordering a pizza sends their finances into a tailspin. Nightclub owner Eddie is teetering on the verge of destitution himself. When his cousin Tracy shows up, revealing herself as a drag performer, he gives this new direction a whirl. When Miss Rexy (the other queen) passes out drunk, desperation drives Eddie to give Casey an ultimatum. Either do the Piaf number in a dress, or he’s fired. So begins Casey’s education as a drag performer, under the tutelage of Miss Tracy.

As we might guess, not only does Casey have a flare for drag, he actually warms up to it. Much as he enjoys playing Elvis, something about creating a female identity resonates with him. Tracy helps him with technique, finding his own persona, choosing the best numbers for his skill set. The pay is better than he ever imagined, but he doesn’t have the nerve to explain to his wife. When she shows up one evening unexpectedly, their recently carefree marriage is suddenly on the rails. When Jo leaves abruptly and Casey runs after her, Eddie, Tracy and Rexy all seem to feel betrayed, though they understand his urgent need to do damage control.

Playwright Matthew Lopez explores the world of drag performance and female impersonation with all the attitude, lingo, humor, and complex, exhilarating culture. We know that Casey is at least somewhat open-minded or he wouldn’t have married a woman of color. The Legend of Georgia McBride is a comedy in which our hero learns by happenstance that there’s something fulfilling about giving himself permission to express his most extravagant, “feminine” impulses. It actually makes him a better person. The fact that he enjoys drag doesn’t mean he wants other men, though that discovery here seems almost beside the point. It’s admirable that Lopez uses humor to reveal that drag isn’t really so foreign to male heterocentrist nature, and reimagines the straight nuclear family in the bargain. There were times when comprehension and gender anarchy didn’t seem to quite intersect, but we certainly gain a better understanding of the art, if the not the science.

The second salient aspect of Georgia McBride is the scintillating glitz and finery of transgender entertainment. Thanks to mad skills and fantabulous imaginations of Suzi Cranford (Costumes) and Coy Covington (Wigs and Makeup). What a rush to see so much glamour, bells and whistles, and what felt like an endless number of costume changes. The Legend of Georgia McBride is certainly a paean to the raucous, raunchy, genuine world of drag entertainment, and we’re given ample opportunity to revel in the brash, pulsing tunes and life-loving celebration.

Uptown Players presents The Legend of Georgia McBride. Playing December 1st-17th, 2017. Kalita Humphreys Theater, 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. 214-219-2718. uptownplayers.org

If we try to break down The Great Distance Home to its components: movement, music, dance, pantomime, few actual spoken words, it really does no justice; though a hybrid, a kind of performance art might begin to explain. Conceived and directed by Kelsey Leigh Ervi, The Great Distance Home establishes the Christmas milieu of urgency, the frantic rush to complete cooking, shopping, traveling and so on. Emerging from this whirlwind a birth is taking place. The mother goes into labor, the husband faints. Perhaps this intersects with another arrival and the celebration of Christmas, or more simply, the powerful association of Christmas and family. When the boy is born and the politics of connection arise, we grasp we’re participating in his travails and joys as time turns his essential clock. We see his low points and triumphs, his grief and gladness. We get a substantive feel for his attachments and how he moves through the world.

There is a brilliance, an ingeniousness to Distance Home. Currently there seems to be a trend towards creating a narrative from the bare bones of few props and objects, but here (lamps, chairs, ladder, ropes, hats…) the elements coalesce. It doesn’t feel gimmicky. There’s a lyricism, a sparse selection of detail that evokes like haiku. It’s an odd mix of the whimsical and wistful, the agonizing and droll. We see the young man strutting to impress a young lady, locking horns with his dad, aching to embrace his parents as he strikes out in this icy world. Distance Home creates its own, preverbal language of experience. It imbues particular moments with such implacable humanity, it overtakes before we realize we’ve been hooked. The sophistication is hidden, but its there.

Ervi and her nimble, intuitive ensemble have stirred up a powerful, exhilarating, fresh way of considering the Christmas Holidays, filled with emotion and trepidation. It’s truly a marvel to see how meticulously, lightly, they define the space and moment. It’s like an ongoing whirligig sequence by Rube Goldberg or a toy train that turns itself into a submarine, then a plane, then a bicycle. Sometimes these moving tableaux are witty, sometimes grim, sometimes sublime. It takes a special kind of bravery, a jazzy sense of confidence, a naked sense of savoring the kinetic, to summon an experience like The Great Distance Home. You just may leave intoxicated.

WaterTower Theatre presents The Great Distance Home. Playing December 1st-17th, 2017. 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas 75001972-450-6262. www.watertowertheatre.org.

It’s the fifth time around for A Very Nouveau Holiday, and what a glorious evening it will be. Pathos, absurdity, not-so-cuddly forest creatures, squabbling, romance and emotional dependency on modern technology. And that’s just in the lobby. Devoted to the idea that Christmas Shows needn’t be dull, derivative, repetitive, uninspired and sappy, A Very Nouveau Holiday was created to bring hilarious, beguiling, quirky, unorthodox and fresh viewpoints to the holidays and how we strive to honor caring and kindness in our hearts. At this point I should mention that I am one of the Eight Playwrights being featured, and while the following will certainly not be a puff piece neither will it be a review.

As we have come to expect from Nouveau 47 (at the Margo Jones Black Box at Fair Park) nothing is sacred, off-limits, traditional or precious. Plots explored include Say Cheese (family portrait takes contentious turn) PSA (Public Service Announcement with Abraham Lincoln, the Blessed Virgin and Santa) Langdon, The Seasonal Barista (grizzly bear hired at Starbucks) Gift of the Maggies (two inmates exchange gifts) Mr. Crispy (man who can’t stop re-living the worst decision of his life) Downeaster Alexa (our reliance on technology for emotional comfort) and Radio Flyer (despondent writer moonlights as Santa).

Playwrights from all over (some as far as Neptune) submitted their short plays, and for the modest price of a ticket, you can partake of these excursions into the unknown realm of Christmas contemplation. A splendid, nimble, outrageously talented gang of actors has been cast and recast and cross-cast in eight different shows, thoroughly testing their wicked-mad skills as performers. Fret not, as a carefully chosen regimen of calisthenics, fierce indoctrination and controlled substances has been applied to guarantee a flawless (if somewhat frantic) result. In all seriousness, each piece brings its own unique angle on the holiday season, surely a time that is fraught with stress, expectations, delight, dread, chaos and sorrow. We sincerely believe you will be amused, engaged, overwhelmed, challenged and comforted. “Oh, the places you’ll go.”

The Actors: Monalisa Amidar, JR Bradford, Cameron Casey, Emily Faith, Robert Long, Chris Messersmith, Charles Themayor Ratcliff, and Jerome Stein.

The Directors: Andra Hunter, Becki McDonald, Brad McEntire, David Meglino.

The Playwrights: Franky Gonzalez, Allison Hibbs, Jonathan Kravetz, Jim Kuenzer, Brad McEntire, Ben Schroth, Greg Silva, and Christopher Stephen Soden.

Nouveau 47 (at the Margo Jones Black Box at Fair Park) presents: A Very Nouveau Holiday 2017, playing December 8th-23rd, 2017. Mondays, Fridays, and Sundays: 8:15. Saturdays 2-6PM. 1121 1st Ave, Dallas, Texas 75210. www.margojonestheatre.org. https://nouveauholiday.brownpapertickets.com/

Sara and Sam are brother and sister, and we first find them in a cemetery, not long after their Dad’s funeral. They are detached from the emotion of the occasion, though not above self-medicating. They go to one of Dad’s favorite watering holes and Sara winds up going home with Joe (a regular at the bar) and spending the night. The next morning she encounters Joe’s teenage son, Miles, who is quite smitten with her. Later she returns to Joe’s apartment to look for a lost watch, where Miles uses the excuse to make a pass. On her third visit to the cemetery, Sara finds Anna, who left brother Sam to started dating the father.

As you might guess, playwright Ellen Fairey uses the title Graceland metaphorically, perhaps because the father is popular but nobody really knows him (like Elvis?) or maybe it has something to do with the quirky nature of grace. Each of the characters is broken, or a fringe dweller, in one way or another. Sara sells kitchen knives in a shopping mall. Joe is not exactly dashing, but he’s got game when it comes to the ladies. Miles seems hopelessly strange, at an age when assimilating is crucial to kids. An interesting detail of Fairey’s narrative is the advantage of being unsuccessful. If Joe were crushing it as an alpha, he might lack the empathy to help Miles figure out dating. If Sara were pulling a six-figure salary, she might not be so understanding when Miles impulsively kisses her. The characters are kinder than society’s idea of winning would permit them to be. They are not too proud to admit they’re groping for answers and more than a little lost. They have been spared the insufferable quality of arrogance.

It seems in the recent past, a kind of hybrid genre has emerged in contemporary theatre. Perhaps it’s an offshoot of Rabe or Mamet, with barely white collar folks who are drifting, without much sense of purpose. On the whole, the content is too funny (or at least ironic) to be drama and too sad to be comedy. The characters in Graceland are trying their best. But the triggering event of death nudges them to wonder how well anybody knows anybody, and what are they doing, other than treading water. Beneath the bleak yet comical surface, malaise seeps through. We don’t get the tango between despair and hilarity we might find in say, Broadway Bound or House of Blue Leaves. That being said, Graceland has a supple, magnanimous quality to it, understated thought it may be. By the final curtain, they may not have left behind the gutter of inertia, but they are still looking at the stars.

L.I.P. Service presented Graceland from November 2nd-18th, 2017. 2535 Valley View Lane, Farmers Branch, Texas 75234. www.lipserviceproductions.info. 817-689-6461.7 68817 689 6461 9 6461

After many years of bringing great pleasure and delight to the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, it saddens me greatly to share that The Three Musketeers will be Theatre Britain’s last production here in the United States. The quality of their productions has always been impeccable, from sets to costumes to wonderful actors. Theatre Britain features exclusively British scripts with drama, mysteries, comedy and of course, their annual Christmas Panto, this year running November 25th-December 30^th, 2017.

Panto is a cherished Christmas tradition in England, and while the content itself isn’t about Christmas, these silly, raucous, cheery shows that spoof fairy tales, folklore and children’s stories are the perfect complement to the Holiday Season. There’s something marvelously subversive about classic Panto, with a man impersonating a saucy, flirtatious woman (Dame) and ingenue playing a man’s role (Breeches). There’s a singalong competition between the men and women and kids from 9 to 90 are encouraged to converse with onstage characters and boo the villains. The first time I attended Christmas Panto I had no idea what to expect. It was Dick Whittington and I brought my mother along. We discovered that Panto is much more than souped-up children’s theatre (with lots of nudges to the adults) it’s a state of mind.

This year Jackie Mellor-Guin’s The Three Musketeers is up with beautiful Shay MacDonald playing D’Artagnan, and Ivan Jones as Kate Planchet. There’s lots of swashbuckling and intrigue cooked up by the diabolical Cardinal Richelieu and Madame de Winter. The story is preposterous enough to amuse the grown ups and serious enough to engage the children. The history is there, with songs and slapstick, shtick and double-entendre’s. I need to say, after some years of watching stage comedy, it’s surprising how truly difficult it is to carry off what plays as ridiculous but still actually funny. As the prevailing wisdom goes, the best make it look easy, and director Sue Birch and her bouncy, brash, brilliant cast deliver with a genuinely ticklish and fizzy show, guaranteed to dip you in sunshine.

Don’t miss your last chance to engage in this one-of-a-kind, charming experience.

Theatre Britain presents The Three Musketeers, playing November 25th-December 30^th, 2017. Cox Playhouse, 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas 75074. 972-490-4202. theatre-britain.com.

John, by Annie Baker, lays out a premise, then circles it, tantalizing and beguiling. A young couple, Jenny and Elias, come to stay at a Bed & Breakfast in Pennsylvania, close to Civil War battle sites. There is a suggestion that the place is haunted. Mertis runs the B & B, she’s somewhat elderly, and has a best friend named Genevieve, who is blind and possesses a psychic gift. Elias has a keen interest in Civil War history, hence their decision to stay at Mertis’ resort. Elias is Jewish and Jenny is Asian. The home is filled with souvenirs (the Yiddish word is tchothkes) figurines, snow globes, model train, houses. There is also an American Girl Doll, identical to one Jenny owned as a girl.

It’s a given that any skillful writer makes careful decisions, when disclosing information, and Baker is no exception. In some ways John owes a debt to Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House and James’ The Turn of the Screw. Baker gives us strange and purposeful details about the lives of the characters, creating a sort of intimacy. We become close, sometimes learning things we’d rather not know. Jenny cannot join Elias on tours because her period has started. Elias is nearly pathologically insecure. Mertis writes journal entries that take bizarre turns. Genevieve speaks as if her ex-husband has taken over part of her being.

The challenge of exploring the otherworldly in literature rests in the realm of suggestion, of italicizing the familiar without a lot of hocus-pocus. Baker pervasively engages the elements of the supernatural in very subtle ways. By themselves they don’t seem especially unsettling, but cumulatively, they create a realm, a gestalt. If some playwrights lead us to the water trough (and stop there) Baker insists we find the water for ourselves. Mertis keeps mentioning George, a sick husband nobody ever sees. Jenny pushes Elias to lose his temper, and John, a former lover, continues to torment their relationship. The player piano kicks in as if by some trigger, that we can’t quite place. Genevieve sits and listens to the couple fight, without letting them know that she’s there. Eerie anecdotes are shared, but they seem to hinge on the reliability of the teller. We might believe them and we might not.

You might say that John dangles on a cusp between the possible and the plausible. The characters speak casually (by way of friendly conversation) of the ghoulish, the cosmic and the implacable. Baker considers how other entities (human and otherwise) intrude, taint and linger in the mind, memory and perception. Much as we ache for some irrefutable manifestation of paranormal presences, she gives us just enough intellectual (yet raw) matter to place the decision squarely on our shoulders. And it keeps us involved till the final curtain.

Undermain Theatre presents the Dallas Premiere of John by Annie Baker. Playing November 8^th – December 10^th, 2017. 3200 Main Street, Dallas, Texas 75226. 214-747-5515. www.undermain.org

It seems to me that Ochre House Theatre : Matthew Posey and his creative team of writers, actors, musicians, technicians and designers have a knack (a gift really) for exploring the lives of the marginalized. The diminished. Original Man is a musical telling the story of Joe, a desperately wounded and lost man, living with his cantankerous dad. The animosity and rage between Joe and Old Joe is at the core of this drama, though each of the characters wrestles with their own misery, and each steps up to the mike to witness, with disaffected panache. Joe’s younger brother is in debt to a gangster, his girlfriends are despondent, too, and shoot smack with him. His dad and he are routinely drunk and spend gobs of time stewing in their own malaise.

Among the many things I love about Mr. Posey and his Altar of Funny, Painful Truth is the way he reveals his protagonists with all their flaws, failures and torments. And yet makes them sympathetic. The tone is suffused with black irony and pervasive disappointment, yet it feels like a strange kind of witty….what? Resignation? Defiance? Apathy? Original Man drags us into the congealed, surreal world of Joe’s metaphysical paralysis, but it’s somehow different than watching Bergman or Fassbinder or Lynch. We don’t just peek in on Joe, we participate. We see the apparition of Ray Charles that visits him, the talking stove that convinces Tilly to attempt suicide. Rather than linear plot, we look progressively deeper and deeper into Joe’s milieu and the spiritually destitute folks that he loves. They may be downtrodden and dejected but they are also unapologetic. Full of piss and vinegar.

There is a reason that Ochre House has its reputation for theatre unlike any you will find elsewhere. They are so assured and fearless and dare greatly, conjuring the abyss with energy and ghoulish humor. The songs of Original Man might be dark ballads or wry confessions or dark blue, savvy jeremiads. Posey leads us through the realm of ferocious dystopia without a blink or shudder. Like a cross between Charlie Manson and Willy Wonka. Yet it’s all so nuanced, hell, it’s downright cozy. As if we’ve been slipped a secret potion that enables us to swim The La Brea Tar Pits without harm. Ironically, the more we drink from Joe’s cup of despair, the more we love him.

Ochre House Theatre Presents Original Man, written and directed by Artistic Director, Matthew Posey. Playing October 28th-November 18^th, 2017. 825 Exposition Avenue, Dallas, Texas 75226. 214-826-6273. www.ochrehousetheatre.org

Darja is a Polish immigrant working in a factory in Elizabeth, New Jersey. As Ironbound opens we find her arguing with her husband Tommy at a bus stop. There is a weather-beaten bench, torn posters, rough sand, broken glass, cigarette butts. The entire drama takes place at this desolate milieu, blown out and unforgiving. Darja is middle-aged, persevering, disillusioned. As she negotiates her connection to three different men, we get a sense of where her values lie, what she must do to survive, how she must be open to change. Tommy is unfaithful, another husband, Maks, is charming but violent, and a young man who helps her after she’s been beaten, Vic, is either a male prostitute, drug dealer, or both. Consistently her assumptions are challenged. Consistently she must re-evaluate.

Ironbound is simple in appearance. A gritty narrative depicting the struggles of working-class immigrants whose command of English leaves much to be desired, to subsist and find romantic companionship. But that appearance is deceptive. The longer and closer we watch, the more clearly we see that Darja’s problems are the same as anyone else’s. The disappointments, compromises, exhaustion, abuse. The trade-offs and constant need to navigate ordeals and changing circumstances. Painfully, doggedly rising every time we fall. Accepting help when independence is so crucial. Playwright Martyna Majok’s understated, ironic approach saves this play from melodrama, and ingeniously, explores the failure of The American Dream, from the eyes of those who come here to thrive and know some relief.

Most of the characters speak a kind of broken/pidgin English, and again, Majok surprises us. Though their command of speaking lacks facility and nuance, it actually explicates content. It’s amazing how much we can infer from such sparse conversation. Though we know their diction is unsophisticated, it clarifies the truth of the situation, with lyricism and grace. As the show evolves, the dialogues achieves a kind of poetry. Majok creates virtue and steps that come closer to actual meaning by using less polished English as a tool. There’s something surprisingly poignant happening when Maks sings a nightclub tune with the bravado and optimism of a striver who refuses to forfeit hope. Kitchen Dog Theater continues to find exquisite, daring, beguiling and profoundly touching shows that are quietly overwhelming and subversively resonant.

Kitchen Dog Theater presents Ironbound, playing October 26th-November 12^th, 2017. 2600 North Stemmons Fwy #180, Dallas, Texas 75207. (214) 953-1055. www.kitchendogtheater.org