Category: Critique

Long Day’s Journey Into Night is set in August 1912. It transpires in the cycle of a single day: beginning after breakfast, and ending in the deep hours after midnight. Mary Tyrone and James Tyrone live with their two grown sons: Jamie and Edmund, in a summer house on the coast of Connecticut. Jamie (as many older brothers do) has taken Edmund under his wing. The two are no strangers to liquor blitzes and visiting brothels. The Tyrones might seem like any other family. It’s not unusual to take good-natured jabs at each other. Any long-term relationship will have squabbles and arguments and maybe a knockdown dragout from time to time. Contentiousness is there from the start, but it only seems to pass.

At the beginning nothing seems out of the ordinary. Breakfast is over, James and Mary are flirting, in the next room the brothers are laughing, which James assumes is at his expense. When they emerge they tell an amusing anecdote, but not without dad admonishing their politics. Mary cannot go for long without noticing their constant attention. She asks if her hair has come down. There is much discussion about going into town, getting Edmund to the doctor, what’s really making him sick. When Jamie and his dad are alone, things get really heated, but they stop abruptly when Mary appears. They go outside to do yardwork. When James returns he gives Edmund some folding money (a monumental event) to spend on liquor and the ladies.

Mary is distraught, reminded of her battle with morphine addiction, which happened when she was giving birth, assisted by her husband’s quack doctor. Edmund feels guilty because he “caused” his mother’s addiction.  All three of the men are terrified that she will start injecting again. Jamie’s cynicism and bitterness with the world are so tangible, They are unmistakable. And chilling.  Mary is quiet, but shares painful truths almost nonchalantly. James lost his successful career as an actor, by no fault of his own.  

Long Day’s Journey Into Night tells the story of a family that cares deeply for one another, but is stuck in a tangle of triggers, vehemence, and crushing self-recrimination. None of the family members want to discuss things openly, but they can’t let anything go. They can’t forgive themselves for making choices that supposedly ruined their halcyon lives, or the life of their loved ones. The drama culminates in a devastating confession, when Jamie, for all his love, can’t contain his need to sabotage Edmund’s life. Jamie has enough clarity to make this painful admission. They all care intensely, but love doesn’t win.

Director Jackie Kemp has taken this phenomenal cast and extracts overwhelming, utterly un-selfconscious, performances. Mary-Margaret Pyeatt’s Mary is delicate and poised, nearly frail. Her bearing is regal, if understated. Stephen Miller’s James has that broken nonbility aspect. He’s proud, but never arrogant. Noah Riddle as the younger brother, Edmund, is somber, soft spoken, chipper, but clearly tentative. He is the least resentful. Joey Folsom’s Jamie is ferocious, disparaging. His performance is a fatal mix of disappointment and vindictiveness. Mr. Kemp has demonstrated (more than once) his cunning, meticulous genius for evincing the essence of daunting, impossible scripts, so alarming and relevant, they might have been written last week. He respects us enough to create life-changing, unpretty, astonishing theatre.

I am consistently amazed how The Classics Theatre Project sets nearly impossible tasks before themselves. Groundbreaking, unnerving shows like: Dutchman, Fool for Love, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Long Day’s Journey Into Night is considered one of the best plays ever written. It premiered (November 1956) in America, posthumously, at Eugene O’Neill’s insistence. It has never been a secret that the content is fearlessly personal. We can only imagine what it must be like for TCTP’s cast members to pour themselves into this excruciating, profoundly disturbing piece, night after night. This exhibition of punishment and despair. If you want drama that never buffers, never apologizes for being raw, never panders to mediocrity, check out TCTP’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night.

The Classics Theatre Project presents: Long Day’s Journey Into Night, playing May 19^th -June 11^th, 2023. The Stone Cottage. 15650 Addison Road Addison, TX 75001. (214) 923-3619. theclassicstheatreproject.com

Lord Rancor is hosting an autumn weekend for a number of guests at his country estate. Not a single one realizes that others will be in attendance. The servants are busy preparing for their arrival. The maid, butler and handyman are dreading another visit from privileged, rude, narcissistic guests. The visitors themselves (retired military, ingenue, French matron, university sculler, bossy busybody, professor et al) make for a strange and varied convocation, They will eventually discover hidden connections to each other. The host, Lord Rancor, is only the first in a succession of bodies piling up. Luckily for us, each death is achieved differently (electrocution, poison, stabbing, gunshot..) keeping things lively and intriguing.

Written by James McDonald, David Vos, Robert Gerlach, and Ed Linderman: Something’s Afoot is a shameless spoof of one of Agatha Christie’s most popular premises. (And Then There Were None, say or Death on the Nile) A group with seemingly nothing in common, is trapped in one location, invited by a sketchy host. Despite their vigilant efforts to reveal the culprit, they’re basically waiting for their turn to die. Gradually we realize each is being punished for an egregious act.

I hasten to add here, that it’s painful to consider how Christie’s brilliance has been lost, somewhat, by other mystery “authors” who simply hijack her plots, with none of her strategy and intelligence. She’s been eclipsed by charlatans. Which is not to say that McDonald, Vos, Gerlach and Linderman have been disrespectful or flippant in their dizzy celebration of Agatha Christie’s genius. Something’s Afoot is a clever, facetious, tongue-in-cheek musical that ponders the elements that have now (sadly) become tropes. T

Allen Contemporary Theatre’s production of Something’s Afoot, is precise, kinetic, bubbly with well-executed dance numbers and spontaneous gags. The four writers consider the utterly absurd, inexplicably nonsensical, the laughably arrogant. Carol Rice’s direction brings out the delightfully preposterous in each of these players, where no line is too silly, no pratfall too painful, no scenery unchewed.

Like the best musical comedy, we sense the excitement and pleasure of the performers, as they share their glee. Sophisticated humor is fine, but this bunch has mastered the art of tomfoolery. They’re relaxed, effusive, spot on. You can’t fake funny. It either works or it doesn’t. It will tickle you or it wont. Kudos to ACT for this bouncy, charming excursion into the realm of sheer whimsy.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents Something’s Afoot, playing May 5th-21st, 2023. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

A phantasmagoria and a fable. A giddy, resigned reflection on sad truth. A ridiculous, exquisite ode to the delusional and the actual. Written By Federico Garcia Lorca, The Butterfly’s Evil Spell is set in the world of insects. They’re just like us, except they’re bugs. You may not know any scorpions but you’ve probably known some guy just like him. Roach Boy is a teenager who wears a baseball cap, a suede vest and shades. Silvia has a crush on him, but he’s not interested. He may have fallen for the Butterfly. Notice, we don’t know if she’s evil, herself.

There’s a deeply pleasurable sense of the absurd, and of course, poetry, in Lorca’s script. It suggests Alice in Wonderland, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: a solemn mask on the preposterous. The commonplace becomes fanciful (a gigantic cactus, a Taco Bueno soda cup tower, a sickbed made from a Whataburger compote). Animation and enchantment suffuses the players, the objects, the heavens. The strange and enigmatic not only accessible but tangible as a shoe, or thimble or belt buckle. Lorca’s microscope to this cosmos in small, transforms the familiar into a marvel. Just as poets (and other artists) focus on what we take for granted, they confer the gift of spectacle. Everything now has luster.

We all know Roach Boy’s quandary. We chuckle at his infatuation, but respect his struggle. Because we know that disillusionment and hurt. Lorca captures this as we see how Silvia cares for Roach Boy, but she’s not dazzling or dangerous enough. The appearance of the Butterfly is treated as a dreadful portent. We want Roach Boy to avoid this outcome, but not sure that he can. Butterfly’s Evil Spell magnifies (even lyricizes) the arrows of desire that make ruin unavoidable. When we’re young our elders are clueless. But once we’ve been wounded, skepticism is nearly intuitive. We see the lives of these creatures, nearly invisible without Lorca’s lens; the sorcery and smoke and the invocative singing and it all fits. The intersection of ecstasy with fatality. The world is what the world is, even when a goddess appears, in a diaphanous white gown.

The cast and crew et al of Butterfly’s Evil Spell amount to a team of what? Goblins, sprites, lunatics, craftsmen? Perhaps all of these. Bravado and the luxury of sharing rapture, awe, pathos. Facetiousness wrapped in chaotic bliss. It meanders, only the better to sneak up on you, my dear. This ensemble is splendid. Poised to amaze. Ready to deliver that wayward kiss.

Theatre Three has again embraced the visionary, intrepid, innovative. I remember their productions of The Adding Machine and The Minotaur. Both were unorthodox, with notes of the fantastic. They were daring choices, that paid off. (Though bravery doesn’t need validation.) Butterfly’s Evil Spell is another example of what can happen, when an established theater takes chances. What a rush to engage with a piece that surprises, amuses, entices and intrigues. That invites us on a vivid, wild, intoxicating ride.

Theatre Three presents The Butterfly’s Evil Spell, playing through Sunday, April 30^th, 2023. 2688 Laclede Street, Suite 120, Dallas, TX, United States, Texas. 214-871-3300 X1 boxoffice@theatre3dallas.com. theatre3dallas.com

 

 

 

 

Hello, Dolly (in its long history) introduced the widow, Dolly Levi, to audiences in Thorton Wilder’s The Matchmaker. It’s first Broadway production featured the indomitable Ruth Gordon. Then Jerry Herman (Music and Lyrics) and Michael Stewart (Book) came along and adapted it to the musical stage. The script is virtually the same, with (of course) songs attached. Audiences have been bowled over by Dolly’s conviviality, shenanigans, cunning, and sheer chutzpah ever since: the woman who brokers romantic relationships. Among other skills.

As so many who have lost a loved one, Dolly has an ongoing conversation with her departed husband. When he was still on this side of the veil, they were all about the good times: nightclubs, sumptuous food, socializing, dancing. Now she must hustle to make ends meet, eager to help prospective customers, whatever their needs may be. Currently she’s assisting Horace Vandergelder in his search for a bride. Consistent with prevailing values of the age,

his ache for a wife amounts to free housekeeping (and presumably) lovemaking. Hence the musical number: “It takes a woman” sung by him and the rest of the male cast. Ironically, even a couple of actresses dressed as men.

As the play opens, Vandergelder is preparing for the journey from Yonkers to New York City. He’s leaving his two clerks: Barnaby and Cornelius, in charge. In a bold move, Cornelius declares he and Barnaby will lock up, sneak off, and taste the delectable fruit of hi-jinks and painting the town. Their mission? Kiss a girl and keep a date with the spectacular whale at the museum. Thanks to Vandergelder’s paltry wages, they don’t have a lot of spending money, but they’ll figure it out. Meanwhile, at a millinery in the Big Bad City, Irene and Minnie are yearning for adventures of their own.

Perhaps the perennial appeal of Hello, Dolly is Dolly herself, and the warm, compassionate music. It’s pretty clear Dolly is sometimes flying by the seat of her pants, but it doesn’t matter. She realizes that gumption and trusting her intuitions, will carry the day. She doesn’t overthink. Her charisma is undeniable. Her understanding of humanity’s strengths and flaws, blindspots and appetites, make her a natural. She perceives a need and provides the solution. It’s not till later in the show we get, that while she is making the best of things, the time for grieving is over. With her late husband’s permission, she will go forward.

Jerry Herman’s delightful songs capture the moment. Secular use for those fine Sunday clothes. An ode to love at first sight. A wistful reflection on what it means to court and spark. Dayna Dutton’s distinctive costuming, with its bright colors, spiffy three-piece suits and bustles gives us a feel for the times, and lifts our spirits. Victoria Anne Lee’s robust choreography is charming and poised. There is a sense of celebration in Lee’s versatile, often acrobatic dance numbers, romping or waltzing or kicking with glee.

Firehouse Theatre presents Hello Dolly, playing April 6th-23rd, 2023. 2535 Valley View Ln, Farmers Branch, TX, United States, Texas. (972) 620-3747. thefirehousetheatre.com

 

In 1976 child psychologist Bruno Bettelheim released The Uses of Enchantment, interpreting the symbolism behind fairy tales. In the context of Freudian theory. In 1987, Stephen Sondheim (music and lyrics) and James Lapine (Book) premiered Into the Woods, a musical they acknowledged was heavily influenced by Bettelheims’s book. Into the Woods is a masterful weaving of several stories: Rapunzel, Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk, in which different characters, from separate narratives, interact with each other. The Narrator, the Witch, and the childless Baker and His Wife are the connective tissue. Sondheim and Lapine create a piece illuminated by explication, mockery, pathos, invention, and the improbable. All this while still entertaining and poignant. It’s nuanced and elaborate, but it doesn’t seem so.

In the first act, each fable, each quandary, is resolved. (A spell is broken. A danger avoided. A fortune attained.) In the second act, they are dismantled to suggest that life is more complicated. Deeper wisdom is pitted against conventional, simplistic answers. Maybe the Giant’s Wife has legitimate grievance. Perhaps the Prince and Cinderella didn’t consider their genuine motives. Perhaps the takeaway in the world of adults isn’t obvious. Sometimes it’s heartbreaking. Lapine and Sondheim have posited a contradiction in the title. “Out of the woods” means you’re no longer at risk. These two demented souls suggest you can’t learn to survive in the actual world, without putting yourself in jeopardy. Headlong into danger. But maybe they’re not wrong.

Pity poor Joel Ferrell, who in the process of directing this logistical nightmare, must have felt like he was juggling dishes, hoops and oranges at the same time. If the experience of Into the Woods is overwhelming in the best sense, imagine what it was like for him. The ridiculously demanding script couldn’t be easy to navigate for this tireless, fearless, animated ensemble cast. They bring the pleasure and grace of performance to Into the Woods without breaking a sweat.

Standouts include Christina Austin Lopez, as the persistent if somewhat unbalanced Cinderella, Bob Hess, avuncular and insanely versatile as The Narrator, Tiffany Solano, bold and vulnerable as The Baker’s Wife, Alex Organ, cunning and stately as Wolf and Prince, Sally Nystuen Vahle, patient and long-suffering as Jack’s Mother, Zachary J. Willis, endlessly cheery and guileless as Jack, Blake Hackler, as the perseverant and protective Baker, Cherish Love Robinson, wounded and vindictive as The Witch, and Christopher Llewyn Ramirez, pompous, but sensitive as Rapunzel’s Rescuer.

This remarkable musical mixes so many disparate, contrasting elements (the chaotic and the sublime, the absurd and the woeful, the cunning and the brave, the ironic and naive) and this phenomenal cast lights the fuse. The Dallas Theater Center’s production of Into the Woods is a vibrant, provocative, deeply affecting theatrical experience.

The Dallas Theater Center presents: Into the Woods, playing April 7th-30th, 2023. The Dee and Charles Wyly Theatre. 2400 Flora Street, Dallas, TX 75201. 214-522-8499. DallasTheateCenter.Org.

 

Boolie Wertham must find a driver for his mother, Daisy. She has wrecked her car, and continues to do damage to other people’s property. She blames the car, unable to admit she’s incapable of driving herself. Furthermore (wealthy though she may be) she is loath to hire a driver and be accused of putting on airs. Her reasons for needing a driver are perfectly legit, and we can’t imagine her caring what anybody thinks.

Boolie makes inquiries among his African American employees, and calls Hoke Colburn in for an interview. Hoke tells him about a white woman he worked for, who tried to get rid of some lousy clothes, by selling them to him. He politely turned her down. Hoke has learned how to be honest but still discreet. The interview tells as much about Boolie as it does Hoke. Boolie doesn’t expect Hoke to be subservient, and Hoke only asks for respect and a fair wage.

Written by playwright Alfred Uhry, Driving Miss Daisy is as much about race relations, as it is about dealing with cantankerous old ladies. It falls closer on the spectrum to To Kill A Mockingbird, than Uncle Tom’s Cabin. None of the characters would be described as noble, yet they care enough to be tactful. They don’t apologize for who they are, or pretend that differences don’t exist.  No one has any delusions that Miss Daisy is merely cranky or difficult.

Hoke isn’t reluctant to point out that sometimes Daisy makes impossible demands. When Miss Daisy teaches Hoke to read, he thanks her. When she replies (with her usually unpleasant demeanor) Don't be ridiculous! She explains he has the ability, but just doesn’t know it.  She is crusty, but refuses to condescend. This is the strength of Uhry’s narrative. Driving Miss Daisy is brave enough to raise the uncomfortable issues. It won't blow sunshine up our ass.

I must give props to Karen Jordan (Daisy Wertham) Toney Smith (Hoke Colburn) and Brian Hoffman (Boolie Wertham). Under the guiding, experienced hand of Director Rachael Lindley, they gift us with truly remarkable performances. Jordan is convincing, amusing, and exasperating as Daisy. Toney Smith is inspired and marvelously comic as Hoke. Brian Hoffman brings his impressive skills, as the relaxed, ironic, forbearing son, Boolie. I cannot recommend Richardson Theatre Centre’s production of Driving Miss Daisy enough. It is nuanced, understated, meticulous. They have hit a home run.

Richardson Theatre Centre presents: Driving Miss Daisy, playing March 31st-April 16th, 2023. 518 W Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, TX, United States, Texas. (972) 699-1130. richardsontheatre@gmail.com

 

 

April and Mimi are close, dear friends, who cherish one another. They brim with that effusive, frantic “girl energy” that’s so infectious. They proactively connect with members of the audience, asking so sweetly you just can’t say: “No”. They cheer, stand up, and look out for each other, no matter what. They adore each other’s company, and never run out of topics to discuss. Mimi babysits a little girl who wears Mousketeer ears, and she works in a coffee bar. There’s no doubt their friendship is authentic, though the enthusiasm comes dangerously close to the fatuous.

At the same time she’s started dating, Mimi discovers Edward Snowden, the notorious (if idealistic) whistleblower who facilitated access to the U.S. Government’s most sensitive secrets. Mimi immediately develops an atomic crush on Mr. Snowden, an antihero who sacrificed his home in America, and safety, and reputation to do what he felt was right. In short, he became a pariah. Mimi is then also faced with a moral quandary. She catches the badboy barista (that she likes) pilfering from the till. She loves the couple who own the cafe like family, as they love her. Should she report the guy, or pretend she didn’t see him?

When Mimi leaves the stage, April takes the audience into her confidence. Mimi has a serious pathology, that she’s managed to keep secret. Now, Edward Snowden takes a serious shift in tone. No more lemonade and lollipops. Throughout all of this, April supports, protects and does everything she can to spare Mimi any pain. She pays the restaurant bill behind Mimi’s back, to spare her embarrassment. April’s ignored it as best she can, but now, the question arises. If you genuinely care for someone, do you (however delicately) confront them with the truth? Even if you try to face this ordeal together, will you lose them?

Playwright Kate Cortesi presents us with a series of contradictions, that may be provocative. May be illuminating. Some playwrights create a puzzle with just enough information to set the spokes in motion. April and Mimi (like Gilbert and Sullivan’s “little maids from school”) are so giddy and gleeful it’s not always easy to take them seriously. As mentioned above our sunshine ride turns into a grim trip through a thunderstorm. Edward Snowden, a somewhat romanticized rebel, becomes a metaphor for the downside of mythology. Being an iconoclast is one thing, living the consequences is another. Perhaps, sooner or later, every devoted friendship is tested? Perhaps we must risk security, for the sake of doing right by someone who deserves our respect.

Second Thought Theatre presents Is Edward Snowden Single? playing April 4^th (today) through April 8^th. 3400 Blackburn St, Dallas, TX, United States, Texas 75219. (214) 897-3091. secondthoughttheatre.com

 

 

Christopher Boone is 15 and lives in Swindon, England, with his dad. His mother died of a heart attack while in hospital. Christopher is on the autism spectrum. If someone touches him, he goes to pieces. For him, the sentient world is overwhelming. It comes amplified and faster than he can process. He has coping mechanisms, but they only take him so far. Needless to say, the world doesn’t always choose to deal positively with Christopher, or even adequately. He’s intelligent and sharp. He’s especially keen at maths. He goes to school, sharing his notebook with Siobhan, his school teacher. It’s she that narrates our play.

One morning Christopher finds the neighbor’s dog has been killed. By someone with a gardening fork. Christopher is quite fond of his now deceased friend, and resolves to find the culprit, ignoring the orders of his dad. In this way, he’s no different than any other teenager. He visits the neighbors, meeting with various degrees of warmth, cynicism and hostility. When he lets slip that he’s been doing detective work, his dad (not necessarily a bad chap) becomes increasingly irate. Gradually his dad, in a fit of anger, confiscates Christopher’s notebook and hides it. In the process of getting it back, Christopher finds dozens of letters, addressed to him. He opens one and another. The penny drops, and he discovers his mother is still alive. Badly wounded by his father’s dishonesty, Christopher sets out to find his mother in London, counting on his reasoning skills, and the cooperation of others. If he’s thought that far.

Adapted by Simon Stephens from Mark Haddon’s novel of the same name, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time invites us into Christopher’s grasp of a life and world that (I think we can all agree) isn’t always welcoming or humane. But more than that. We see that strangers aren’t always untrustworthy. We see he can’t always rely on those that any of us might. We see the exquisite, phenomenal perception that thrives in the gentlest part of his brain. The access we seek within ourselves, when we’re in need of bandage. Haddon and Stephens achieve empathy for Christopher, without condescension or playing the audience. They want respect for their hero, who is neither cuddly nor helpless. And yet how deeply we care for him.

In a post-performance conversation with one of the actors, he mentioned how utterly production particulars of Curious are wed to content. Truer words. It’s some kind of dazzling to witness how the blocking and set pieces, and projections, and sound, and sympathetic response from the players all converge to reflect the interface between Christopher and what happens outside of him. When he must navigate a train station, or subway, or stairway. When he’s taking in the landscape from a train, rocket ship, or his bedroom window. We’re right there with him.

How does director Chris Berthelot bring his keen eye and sense of harmony to a drama with so many moving parts? Part painter, part conductor, part composer. Performance, music, movement, images, noise. They must all line up. I don’t want to go into too much detail here, but the way this story is conceived requires the participants to rethink theatrical tropes. Another realm is summoned. A different compass is needed. Berthelot has assembled a determined, confident, dedicated cast of focused and completely involved players, to change the way we see. If you love vibrant, kinetic, surprising theatre, don’t miss ACT’S The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.

Allen Contemporary Theare presents: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, playing March 17th-April 2^nd, 2023. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX, United States, Texas. (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

 

Arlene and Mitchell plan to kill Arlene’s husband. The two have found their soulmate, and Paul has become a burden. Mitchell has arranged for Paul to meet him in a room at Howard Johnson’s, where the two will ambush, and drown him in the tub. When Paul arrives, he’s not the insensitive schmuck that we’ve been lead to believe. Even though the murder’s carefully planned, there’s some discrepancy between concept and execution. Mitchell and Arlene bungle it. The next time we visit HoJo’s, Paul and Arlene are scheming to kill Mitchell. Once again, there are miscalculations and unforeseen problems. You would think two people who sleep together would make at better team. Next act, Paul and Mitchell are ready to kill Arlene.

Written by Ron Clark and Sam Brobrick, Murder at the Howard Johnson’s is set in the 1970’s with its flashy, tastelessly loud colors and plaids, and it’s clarion call to women to declare their freedom. The fact that Mitchell, a dentist, is only slightly higher up the food chain than used car salesman Paul, speaks volumes. There’s some glamour and romance in the idea of murdering for the sake of passion (I suppose) but these three can’t commit. As Paul (clearly the wisest of the three) points out, they’re too middle class to make the deed happen. They’re not poor enough to feel trapped, or wealthy enough to ignore the law. Their ideas of gifts, the debonair, the intrepid may be practical, but also, lame. Murder at the Howard Johnson’s stands firmly in the tradition of banter, quips and shtick. Paul: That bridge you put in still hurts. Mitchell: So don’t pay me. Paul: I didn’t. There’s also an element of the absurd to these shenanigans. Mitchell checks with Paul to make sure his binding’s not too tight. Paul let’s him use his necktie.

Pocket Sandwich Theatre (now in Carrollton) back and better than ever, is in fine form with Murder at the Howard Johnson’s. Not their customary popcorn tosser this time around, but a most enjoyable evening of comedy, nonetheless. Manuel C. Cruz (Paul) Mozhgan Haghi (Arlene) and Jake Shanahan (Mitchell) bring their A-Game to this amusing farce, optimizing tone to content, timing to text. Cruz is the cranky voice of pragmatism, Haghi the ditzy voice of emancipation, Shanahan the dentist dandy. Under the keen, experienced direction of Becki McDonald, the marvelously preposterous (or is it the preposterously marvelous?) comes gleaming through.

Pocket Sandwich Theatre presents: Murder at the Howard Johnson’s, playing February 24th- March 24th, 2023. 1104 Elm Street, Carrollton, TX, United States, Texas. (214) 821-1860. pst@dallas.net

Florence Unger has been wandering the streets of New York, after finding out her husband wants a divorce. She shows up at Olive Madison’s apartment, where she, Sylvie, Mickey, Renee and Vera are playing Trivial Pursuit. Olive has a comprehensive knowledge of sports, though she’s not great at providing a decent nosh. Florence is beside herself, after so many years of marriage she feels abandoned. They try to help her as best they can, and insist she spend the night at Olive’s. When they’re alone, in a moment of revelation, Olive realizes she wants a roommate and invites Florence to move in.

Not long after, Florence and Olive are getting on each other’s nerves. Florence isn’t just fastidious, she’s compulsive. Though living with someone who keeps things clean, and prepares delicious food, doesn’t exactly sound like torment. Both Olive and Florence seem incapable of tolerating the others shortcomings or finding common ground. Olive arranges a double date with brothers who are neighbors. Despite some hurdles, things seem to be going fine. The guys suggest the four go up to their place where they will cook for the ladies. Florence, intentionally or not, sabotages what might have been a sublime evening. Though it was Olive who invited her, she also throws Florence out.

I was surprised to find that Neil Simon adapted his original version of The Odd Couple to focus the premise on two women friends. If memory serves, the dynamic between Oscar and Felix was a comedy of chemistry. Two buddies, one a slob and the other a neat- freak, living under the same roof. It’s a quirk of humanity that any two adults, sharing a home (regardless of the nature of their connection) will assume the roles of “husband” and “wife”, if you will. Or nest builder and alpha. Relatively speaking. This makes for considerable friction between the two. Perhaps no one ever told Felix and Oscar that the key to a successful relationship is compromise.

There’s a strange moment that closes the first act, when Olive and Florence are alone. Olive confesses her loneliness and drops to one knee, proposing marriage to Florence. Now certainly, we don’t take this literally, and we’re not meant to. Perhaps this is Simon’s way of silencing the proverbial elephant in the room. By addressing it head on? I suppose my hesitation with the logic of The Odd Couple (Female Version) emerges when Florence proclaims her gratitude for Olive evicting her. After inviting her to move in, in the first place. Presumably this motivated her to seek male companionship. This may have passed in the 1980’s, but in 2023, it doesn’t add up. Platonic may be no substitute for Romance, but sexual is no substitute for sisterhood. Of course, Mr. Simon is entitled to his own worldview. But you’ve got to be a little skeptical, when the “answer” to Florence’s unhappiness could only be a male. When she discovers the right kind of males, her need to live with a woman is solved.

Under the direction of Rachael Lindley, this convivial and versatile cast works Neil Simon’s legendary gift for banter and shtick, with confidence and purpose. Their timing is impeccable, their punchlines, sublime. There’s lots of hi-jinks and physical humor, and the first date with the Constanzuela Brothers is definitely a high point. It’s always grand to catch a show at Richardson Theatre Centre, where everyone cares so devotedly about the success of the show, they all give 200 %, they all make you feel welcome.

My sincere thanks to RTC for their invitation on closing weekend.

Richardson Theatre Centre presented The Odd Couple (Female Version) February 10-26^th, 2023. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 113, Richardson, Texas 75080. 972-699-1130. richardsontheatrecentre.net