Category: Critique

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Magnificent Cast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

214-522-8499. ticketing@dallastheatercenter.org

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As much as anything, Let the Right One In is a fable about intolerance, prejudice and heroism. Based on the novel by John Ajvide Lindvist and adapted for the stage by Jack Thorne, it explores what it means to respect the humanity in each of us, even if someone seems inexplicably different. Mysterious and strange.

Oskar is a student in high school. He’s bullied and humiliated by his peers. Jonny (the leader of the pack) is pathological, going to extremes to make Oskar’s life miserable. His alcoholic mother is supportive until he’s called on the carpet. Then she, too, attacks him. His dad seems friendly enough, but his self-absorption makes him clueless. His coach is encouraging, but he too, fails Oskar. Turning a blind eye, or too stupid to notice Oskar’s abuse by toxic alphas. Oskar is, in a word: trapped.

Eli is a girl who lives in the forest. Realm of enchantment, danger, and the forbidden. It seems there is perpetual snow, and cold so merciless, it’s uninhabitable. She is exotically beautiful (the same age as Oskar) subdued and tentative. As they come to know each other, it’s clear she’s withholding something. But Oskar doesn’t assume there’s something nefarious going on. Their courtship almost feels like a game, but it doesn’t have a predatory vibe. Oskar, even when he feels confounded, respects Eli’s privacy. Gradually, they fall in love. Both of them fringe-dwellers, both of them outsiders.

Lindvist has concocted a story in which worlds collide, and petty assumptions skewered.  The gang of thugs who torture Oskar, do so because he has no protection. Because underneath weak people are too often held in contempt, even if we can’t admit that to ourselves. Let the Right One In tips everything over. Bullies build self-esteem by degrading Oskar, the people in his life (who should be his advocates) are insipid and feckless. The only one truly in his corner, is Eli, a vampire in a story that never uses the word. She is tacit and yet, in her way, forthcoming. She is caring and brave and sweet-natured. Everything a villain couldn’t be.

The actors in Let the Right One In  bring strong authenticity and focus to their performance. A dazzling aspect of Outcry’s productions is the use of choreography. We might only expect this in a musical, but Outcry has it down. The dance pieces are imaginative and intriguing, expanding and enriching the content. The set design feels playful, yet dangerous. The pervasive mist sets the mood beautifully, and who doesn’t love the tingles of a foreboding, enticing forest?

Outcry Theatre presented: Let the Right One In. It played August 4th-13th, 2023. Addison Theatre Centre. Studio Theatre. www.outcrytheatre.com. 972-836-7206

For years Catherine has taken care of her father (Robert) a mathematical genius, who’s cognitive abilities have been seriously impaired, and propensity for manic episodes all too frequent. Catherine’s dad has passed over, leaving her to process their years together, their shared connection of mathematics, being ambushed by sister Clare to move from her home. Added to the mix is Hal, a protege of Robert’s and an erstwhile romantic interest. Neither Clare nor Hal have a grasp of Catherine’s struggles or how to help.

Written by David Auburn, {proof} takes a long, pensive look at Catherine’s life with her dad, the warmth and closeness and frustrations and patience. We wonder if Robert, who most emphatically was not self-absorbed, understood his daughter might very well be a prodigy, herself. {proof} raises several issues. How do we grapple with the possibility we might inherit a destructive, painful mental illness? Do the people closest to Catherine assume she couldn’t be her dad’s equal, simply because she’s female? Catherine doesn’t reveal her brilliance, but why is this a blind spot? Why do they need to be convinced? Why must greater minds genuflect at the altar of ignorance and misogyny? Why does Catherine owe anyone an explanation?

Catherine’s most salient quality is her anger. The world keeps imposing solutions that won’t actually heal or alleviate her suffering. She’s been a devoted daughter, doing everything possible to nurture and support her father, while a parade of acolytes have lived in a spare room, kowtowing. Her value has been eclipsed by her dad. A dad who always respected and appreciated her. Auburn chooses the title: “{proof}”, a mathematical exercise, but also as a way of describing the supposed contingency of Catherine’s brilliance. So much easier to dismiss her as petulant or scrappy.

Auburn explores Catherine’s life and struggles, while avoiding recognizable feminist rhetoric. He considers how subtly culture indoctrinates, by tacit presumption and encoded behavior. A particular scene suggests Catherine won’t pursue her own vocation (or pick up the torch?) until Robert can no longer go forward. It’s the responsibilities she’s saddled with, and the sad understanding that if she’d been Robertson’s son, no one would insult her with doubts. It’s what Hal and Clare bring to the table without even realizing it.

Allen Contemporary Theatre has taken on a difficult, understated, eloquent drama, with clarity and intelligence. The performances are strong, touching and memorable. So often I am gobsmacked by the level of sophisticated, implacable, impeccable theatre I find at ACT. Simply put, their current production of {proof} is what the best live drama is all about.

Allen Contemporary Theatre and Mikey Abrams, Realtor and Allen Americans Professional Hockey Club present {proof} playing August 18th-September 3^rd, 2023. 1210 East Main Street # 300, Allen, Texas, 75002. 844-822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

Kenny and Logan are a couple. Kenny is an African American Baptist and Logan is Jewish. Kenny’s granddad has passed, and he wants Logan to join him, when he returns home for the funeral. Logan is understandably dubious. Kenny’s family has given him the cold shoulder before, especially his mother, who barely acknowledges his presence. But Kenny insists, believing all will work out in the end.

Kenny’s mother, Baneatta, is a steadfast Christian, and a force of nature. She’s small but she’s powerful. Prayerful, vigilant, devoted, some might even say, old school. When she sees the dress her sister, Beverly is wearing for the funeral, she doesn’t mince words, and she doesn’t use euphemisms. Her husband, Reginald, is supportive, but like many spouses, he might delicately fill in the blind spots for their better half. Beverly (Kenny’s Aunt) has got a lot of living to do. The frock in question certainly emphasizes her assets, and in a different context would certainly work to her advantage. But how many guys does she hope to pick up at a funeral? And where did she find that hat? Her teenage daughter, Latrice, is far better grounded in actuality than mom, and something of an opportunist. She isn’t shy about promoting her band or cadging a vape from Logan.

Playwright Douglas Lyons has fashioned an affectionate tribute to the whirlwind worship of the African American church service. Talk about intense love, overwhelming adulation, laser focused, unwavering faith. The loud and proud proclamations of: Amen! and That’s right! and Thank you, Jesus! put other denominations to shame. Stirring beyond measure. No room for doubt.

That being said, Lyons has created a cauldron of strong emotions and wretched excess. All the better to tickle you, my dear. Beverly, who lives to be the center of attention, waggles her tuchas, etc, at a moment’s notice, and no one seems surprised when she throws herself on the coffin. Poor Logan is lost (and too often shunned) in this throng of keening, emotional Gentiles.

I have noticed in the past, that the strongest comedies include an aspect of sadness and/or rage in the narrative. The relatively recent propensity for another Laffathon, is sloppy and clumsy strategy. Spaghetti at the wall, if you will. Logan must deal with homophobia, when he’s already a stranger in a strange land. The hurt is so unbearable Kenny must convince him not to leave. The appearance of an unwelcome congregant raises numerous issues of infidelity, and the need as a family to confront anger, wounds and betrayal, to move forward. In some ways, Chicken and Biscuits reminded me of the familial plays of Neil Simon (Brighton Beach Memoirs) and Clifford Odets (Awake and Sing). Lyons carefully explores the behavioral flaws we all share, creating the balance we find in the best.

Uptown Players presents : Chicken and Biscuits, playing July 28th-August 13th, 2023. Kalita Humphreys Theater. 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. (214) 219-2718. uptownplayers.org

One of Greek folklore’s most beguiling and absorbing narratives, The Odyssey details the return of Odysseus and his crew to Ithaca, after victory with the Trojan War. A true auteur: Logan Beutel has forged Odysseus and Penelope, an adaptation of The Odyssey, directed and starred in it. Other cast members also wear numerous hats, playing various roles, singing and playing instruments with the band, assisting with numerous fancies and evocations.

By all accounts Odysseus is more cunning, more persuasive, more cerebral than other Greek heroes, skills that will come in handy on his journey back from a ten-year war. In his absence, his wife must ward off a group of voracious suitors, while she weaves a tapestry and reassures their son, Telemachus, that his father is still alive. Her mother-in-law, Antikla, nags, kvetches, disparages, moans and groans and makes her daughter-in-law’s predicament worse. Odysseus and Penelope cuts back and forth between Penelope and her husband’s stupefying journey. Beutel has taken on the epic story of Odysseus the King of Ithaca, and Penelope his queen.

Beutel has boiled it down to the bare bones (more or less) without losing the essence or upshot. Key moments are preserved: notorious episodes, grisly outcomes. Odysseus and Penelope captures the shock, the fear, the misery, the despair. One of the great strengths of Greek drama is its visceral, implacable ability to get under our skin. Beutel’s minimalistic approach is something of a risk, but somehow, it works. We get a feel for the arduous voyage, the dark humor of their struggle with the Cyclops, Penelope’s constant battle with violent alphadogs, the danger relentlessly stalking husband, wife and son.

On the other hand, one of the obstacles when staging Greek plays, is their tendency to get bogged down in rhetoric. You don’t want to spend a long in exposition, but you also want to do justice to content. It’s quite impressive how Beutel, and an energetic, inspired host of actors and artisans have converged to create this deeply affecting spectacle. This fluid and daring and truly poised performance. Megan Muscato and Reagan Wren’s choreography, Giulia Garbani and Fara Goldsmith’s shadow imagery, Beutel’s musical arrangements. The actors seamlessly move from dialogue to subtle, elegant dance episodes. The shadow images, emerging behind screens, add enigma, strangeness, something unsettling. Beutel’s eclectic series of songs: mournful, aching, wistful, blend (to my surprise) especially well with the saga unfolding before us.

Odysseus and Penelope played July 21-23rd, 2023. “Multimedia” scarcely seems to describe this sophisticated, ingenious montage of mythology, tragedy, and dazzling, theatrical energy.

I was privileged to be there.