Sharp Critic : Christopher Soden

I should disclose that this was my first opportunity to attend The Fifth Annual Dallas One-Minute Play Festival. Needless to say, my curiosity was piqued. I’d seen 10-15-20 minute play festivals, but this, ironically, was setting the bar pretty low and pretty high. Could the experience of a play be distilled to one-minute? Could we experience the mountains and gutters, the cunning triad of incitement-brawling-breakthrough within the space of 60 seconds? Were they mad?! Was I mad?! Had the world gone turvy-topsy? Had every last shred of human decency gone by the wayside?

The plays were clustered in what I took to be similar themes, each cluster with the same cast and director. “Furniture” was the basic, traditional, painted wooden boxes that could be arranged according to the demands of the piece. I believe there was a bell to separate one play from the next, as a total blackout would have been impractical. The program listed the name of each piece, playwright, actors and director. An ambitious project like this demands meticulous orchestration, to keep things moving and catastrophe free. The topics ranged from current politics, to female oppression, to ideological quandary, to the hazards of sex and romance. Most of it amounted to ironic comedy. The formula seemed to be: situation – curve ball – resolution. Most of it took the form of banter.

WOMAN: I’m pregnant.

MAN: I can’t believe you’re bringing another child into this overpopulated world.

WOMAN: Well, I wouldn’t, if you’d put your penis where it belonged.

MAN: I thought I did.

END

The show moved at a brisk pace, barely enough time to ponder and reflect, before the next play began. Before you knew it, the entire enterprise was done. If vaguely frantic, it didn’t feel rushed. It’s difficult to evaluate, as this is definitely my first time at the rodeo. There were plenty of clever, punchy parting shots. The pace added to the breathless, giddy experience. It wasn’t flawless, but those involved in The Festival knew how to play to its strengths. It wasn’t so much haiku as a vaudevillian slant on more serious content. It wasn’t easy to keep up, but it was undoubtedly entertaining and immediate, intriguing theatre.

The One Minute Play Festival and Kitchen Dog Theater presented The Fifth Annual Dallas One-Minute Play Festival. It played August 11th-13th at The Bob Hope Theatre, Meadows Building on the SMU Campus.

A psychotherapist in Calcutta treats two patients by hypnotic regression. His male patient seems to have issues with suffocation and drowning. The female patient is still processing the passing of her beloved Nana and struggles with a fear abandonment. The good doctor accompanies them on their journeys through past lives and milieus: a vibrant fishing village, a tony British Officer’s Club, intrepid merchant caravans, an exquisite palace and a chilling dungeon. He helps them identify key events that foment trauma, and work through the pain, so they can move forward. Gradually his two patients are able to resolve past catastrophes and heal their broken spirits.

A collaboration between Mainstage Irving and Think India Foundation, The Red Pashmina is an intriguing, beguiling musical, crafted to forge a bridge between the Indian and Theatre Communities here in the metroplex. Strategically written to maximize our experience of exotic climes, radiant and sumptuous costumes, intoxicating, celebratory dances, and a compelling variety of themes such as tragedy, colonialism, romance, terror, frustration and valiance, The Red Pashmina draws us into the thick of its splendid narrative. Our hearts ache for the young man and woman who have hit roadblocks in their lives, as they uncover the details of their personal histories. The story is brimming with adventure and rich emotion, it never drags, or lacks for surprise. Beneath the plot and performance, a celebratory, kinetic energy suffuses the proceedings, stirring our souls and gladdening our hearts.

The Red Pashmina turns primarily, gloriously on spectacle, awash in dazzling colors, meticulous choreography, elaborate, evocative scenery and gorgeous music that transports us to otherworldly, astonishing realms. The allure and enchantment of this show is remarkable and unmistakable. It has such joie de vivre, such warmth, such irresistible charm and panache. The good folks at Main Stage and Think India were gracious enough to let me review this marvelous musical, knowing it would close before I could post my column. What a joyous tribute to the spirit of harmony. I will be forever grateful for the privilege. The Red Pashmina will remain with me for a long time, it was: “…such stuff as dreams are made on.”

Main Stage Irving: 3333 North MacArthur Blvd, Irving, Texas 75062. (972) 594-6104. www.irvingtheatre.org Think India Foundation: 682.463.9201. info@thinkindia.foundation. www.thinkindia.foundation

PRODUCERS

Samir Bhargava • James West • Ramesh Thiagarajan • Asit Kini

SHOW CONCEPT & ARTISTIC DIRECTION

(Script, Music Arrangement, Choreography, Direction)

Anisha Srinivasan • Shatarupa Purohit • Shibani Limaye

Malti Srinivasan • Ravi Srinivasan

SCENIC DESIGN

Joseph Cummings

LIGHTING DESIGN

Kyle Harris

SOUND DESIGN

Isaac Abraham

VIDEO DESIGN

Vijay Gurow

MASTER CARPENTER

Steven Merritt

COSTUME DESIGN

Shatarupa Purohit • Radhika Ganesh • Shanti Ravi • Rhea Kamat

ARTISTIC SUPPORT

Aarthi Ramesh • Prabhu Shankar • Prakash Kagal

Radhika Ganesh • Renuka Kant • Shraddha Dharia • Shravan Gaddam

Shubha Ramakrishnan • Shukra Seshadri

PERFORMERS

Aarav Gaddam • Aarnav Kamat • Aarthi Ramesh • Advait Kshirsagar • Anand Natarajan

Anusha Adinarayanamurthy • Ashwin Kumar • Asit Kini • Chanda Crane

Clayton Cunningham • Darby Blakeman • Dhvani Sharma • Frances Lydia Zavier

Gurleen Kaur • Harish Venkat • Jake Blakeman • James West • Jayesh Thamburaj

Johnny Edgett • Keith Kubal• Ken Crane • Kiran Raut • Mahi Raut • Manoj Balraj

Manoj Pillai • Marie West • Niharika Kamat • Prathama Pathak • Prathima Bhat

Priyanka Potturi • Rajesh Adusumilli • Rajeshwari Prabhune • Rakshak Iyengar

Ranjan Misra • Rashmi Vatsan Renuka Kant Rhea Kamat • Sai Veda Rallabandi

Samanvi Velagapudi • Samhita Kumar • Samir Shah • Sanjana Manikandan

Shamli Asanare • Shanmugapriya Murugakathiresan • Shravan Gaddam

Shukra Seshadri • Simran Misra • Sneha Velayudham • Sruthi Potturi • Sruthi Venkat

Stephan Singleton Swathi Harikumar • Thulasiram Govind Chettiyaar • Vijay Ram • Yasmin Misra

LOBBY

Samir Bhargava • Shraddha Dharia • Chennai Café • Elegant Affair

Saregama Café & Supermarket

MUSICIANS & SINGERS

Advait Kshirsagar • Betson Zachariah • Gurleen Kaur • Kartik Rajagopal

Krithika Karthik • Mahesh Ruikar • Parag Prabhune • Prathama Pathak

Prathima Bhat • Priti Phalak • Prabhu Shankar • Prakash Kagal • Ramki Ramakrishnan

Samhita Kumar • Sanjana Manikandan • Shukra Seshadri . Vijay Ram

PRODUCTION CREW

Aarthi Ramesh, Asit Kini, Arvind Betrabet, Datta Krishnappa, Ganesh Raghu, James West, Kunaal Kini, Neel Betrabet, Nikita Bhagat, Steven Merritt Ram Ramanathan, Ramesh Thiagarajan, Samir Bhargava, Sanjana Manikandan, Sundar Swaminathan, Sudhagar Ramamoorthy, Vish Kamat, Vishwajit Bhave

VOLUNTEERS

Aarthi Ramesh, Aaryaa Moharir, Akruti Pancholi, Bala Rangarajan, George Varughese, Jayashree Manikandan, Kala Ramesh, Manasi Paranjpe, Mrinmayee Jana, Nikita Bhagat, Paramesh Devineni, Priti Phalak, Raji Venkat, Rohini Dalvi, Sandhya Rao-Joshi, Simran Purohit, Sushma Ramachandran, Sushma Ramakrishna, Shankari Velayudham, Shanmugapriya, Shanti Ravi, Shanti Velagapod, Shubha Ramakrishnan Sneha Patwardhan, Surabhi Kshirsagar, Uma Pandare

SPECIAL THANKS

Akshay Joshi, Mina Kini, Nitin Futane, Nishendu Vasavada,

Shreyas Gaonkar, Sumedha Gokhale, Vandita Parikh, Vineeta Bhargav

I saw Spring Awakening for the first time at the Winspear, by a touring company, several years ago. I was bowled over by its frailty and rage, it’s raw, broken, lost eroticism and celebratory explosions, its frank and grim, yet earnest search for the actual in a world drowning in duplicity. Since then I have seen numerous productions throughout the DFW Metroplex, and some (I regret to say) I missed. I was relieved and grateful that none saw fit to succumb to censorship, which, considering the narrative, would have been especially egregious. Essentially, Spring Awakening’s a musical about the calamity we risk, when neglecting sexual guidance in the midst of aimless, urgent adolescence. The parents’ comfort zone is their children’s downfall. Moritz, best friend of anti-hero Melchior, bemoans the intrusive fantasies that make it impossible to focus on his studies. His grievances culminate in “The Bitch of Living,” an angry, funny, paean to the chaos of libido gone haywire and the need to blow off steam. The young men stomp and shout and add their anecdotes from the land of pounding pulse and demanding daydreams.

In the spirit of transparency I asked to review Spring Awakening, and Southern Methodist University was kind enough to comp me, knowing I couldn’t post till after the show closed. The last Sunday matinee was packed and I felt fortunate to be there, though we lost some audience at the interval. It’s that kind of show. Based on Frank Wedekind’s drama written in the 18^th century, it’s not all exaggerating to describe this piece as (among other things) profoundly disturbing, unflinchingly honest and dangerous. Young women who must sort through abuse and molestation in the context of cruel neglect. Young men who cannot discuss even fundamental solutions with their dads. Utter subjugation to the disgusting whims of any adult. In the song, “You’re totally fucked,” Melchior shouts the repugnant truth of the title. “You’re fucked all right, and it’s all for spite, you can kiss your sorry ass goodbye.” What makes adults powerful is their superior skill at lying.

Directed by Blake Hackler, SMU Meadows’ recent production of Spring Awakening was a revelation. When the same show pops up, all over the same community, each theatre (naturally) brings its own unique spin to the proceedings. There was something about Hackler’s interpretation (along with Scenic Designer Sarah Harris and Choreographer Emily Bernet) that felt more defiant, more fanciful, more intuitive, than any I’d seen recently. In Bernet’s dance numbers, we see heterocentrist crossover to same-gender sexuality, an easy intimacy between the characters, a bone-deep frustration that comes off in waves. Harris’ set expounded a controlled chaos, familiar and yet unbalanced. Hackler’s choices were audacious and electrifying, the anger and despondency palpable, the performances intoxicating and poignant. He, and his young volcanic cast, et al, created a powerful, overwhelming experience that rises above the sum of its parts. This brave incarnation of Spring Awakening is one I’ll never forget.

SMU Meadows Division of Theatre presented Spring Awakening, which closed September 30^th, 2018. Greer Garson Theatre, 6101 Bishop Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75205. (214) 768-2787 www.smu.edu/Meadows

Once is an unorthodox musical romance. The first meeting between “Guy” and “Girl” seems almost studiously uneventful. He’s in the park, singing a song about a relationship he can no longer endure. Then ditches the guitar. She appears, demanding he perform another song for her. She’s Czech (at least in this show) her voice is flat and without low. He keeps explaining she’s on the wrong track, but she won’t give in. He plays another song, and she’s right. He has something remarkable. She asks why he has a vacuum cleaner with him and he explains that he and his Da fix “Hoovers.” “Great!” she says. We have a broken vacuum. Not exactly brimming with moonlight.

The guy introduces the girl to his father, who’s charmed. The girl introduces the guy to her mother, and the rest of her family. They’re overjoyed. Whenever characters in a play have names like: BOY, GIRL, MAN, WOMAN, it means they could be any man and any woman. Guy and Girl are perfect for each other, but they have other, unresolved attachments, which is probably a trait they share with many couples. Apart from their undeniable chemistry, Girl is determined to help Guy with his music, which deserves far more attention. She focuses all her energy on getting his talent on track: assembling a band, bartering for studio time, trying to present his music to the right pair of ears. It may seem she’s sending mixed signals, but when she can’t say “yes”, she’s got good reason.

The intriguing, enticing aspect of Once is how pervasively unconventional it is. Plot, content, resolution. Almost nothing is predictable. The soulful and/or rambunctious Irish music doesn’t logically emerge from the dialogue. The girl isn’t emotional and the guy isn’t gallant or seized by passion. The girl’s family isn’t quirky or eccentric, they’re actually kinda nuts. The emotion is palpable but there’s no sturm und drang or tortured declarations. The customary tropes are pretty much out the window.I’m guessing creators Enda Walsh (Book) Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova (Music and Lyrics) were aiming to show how all romances are different, and yet they’re all the same. That you don’t necessarily need amplification to convey intense feeling. We’re more likely to sort out motivations after we’ve left the theater.

Once is surprising in its spontaneous, raucousness, that seems like a crooked, impulsive, meandering walk, but gets us there. Wherever “there” is. It’s fresh, and exhilarating and poignant; it breaks new ground. Despite its strangeness, we come to care for this couple, and understand the lives of others in their orbit. Our hearts pound faster, we are tickled and troubled. Walsh, Hansard, Irglova, director Marianne Galloway and the cast el al, have delivered an original, memorable gift.

Theatre 3  presents: Once, playing September 13th- October 7^th, 2018. 2800 Routh St, Suite 168, Dallas, Texas 75201 (214) 871-3300. www.theatre3dallas.com

Len Jenkin has a special knack for making quirky, prototypical, found poetry from the imagery of everyday life. It might be that one, resonating song floating from an antiquated radio, in a hobo jungle. Or the way a sudden downpour sizzles on a poorly lit street, late, late at night. The narrator: Little Sister speaks with a kind of nonchalant, though unassailable reverie. In their way, Shakey Jake + Alice are the romanticized, quintessential teen delinquent couple. They’re just intrepid and transgressive enough to be charming. Their thrift store finery is cool yet sweet. They know how to loll in the comfort of each other’s company.

How is it That We Live or Shakey Jake + Alice takes careful steps to illustrate and demonstrate the richness of our glorious-catastrophic-melancholy lives, if we just wait and let the enchantment come. Jenkin makes a convincing case for this, interspersing sybaritic episodes with chaos and/or profound disappointment. As teenagers, Jake and Alice are careless, wry, and awash in pleasure. When Alice goes off to college, and Jakey commences his hitchhiker’s odyssey, a supposed estrangement takes place. Like many men before him, Jake seeks truth in prolonged exploration of the world’s (not necessarily exotic) mysteries. Enlightenment in motion? He declines Alice’s invitations to visit her on campus, while she earns her degree. The next time she sees him, many years have passed, along with her devotion to Jakey. It’s not just that Jakey (true to his name) is unreliable, but his assumption that Alice will indefinitely hold a torch.

Other shows like Port Twilight, Time in Kafka, and Jonah also explore the celebration of the quirky, the off-beat, the fanciful, to be found in ordinary experience. It’s as if Jenkin is coining a benign series of urban legends. The contentious relationship between common mythology and the merciless truth. Perhaps intuitive decisions don’t always pan out. Perhaps Jake stays away so long because he believes his path to bliss will ultimately intersect with Alice’s. But maybe it won’t? It’s worth considering that in the previously mentioned shows (Twilight, Kafka, Jonah) Jenkin kept more balls in the air, putting romance in the context of other, concurrent plots or tangents. For some reason, when a single attachment is the main attraction, it doesn’t seem quite as vibrant. That being said, How is it That We Live or Shakey Jake + Alice is touching and lyrical, without feeling precious or didactic.

Undermain Theatre presents : How is it That We Live or Shakey Jake + Alice, playing September 13^th – October 7^th, 2018. 3200 Main Street, Dallas, Texas 75226. 214-747-5515. www.undermain.org

Branden Jacob Jenkins’ satirical drama An Octoroon, is an adaptation of Dion Boucicault’s 1859 melodrama of the same name. Preserving much of the same dialogue, it aims to enlighten by staging the script through a 21st century lens. An Octoroon begins with BJJ the contemporary playwright, conversing with the audience, explaining his trials as an African American writer. If you are an author of color, your work will always be construed as social commentary; other intentions ignored or brushed away. BJJ often illustrates his points by sharing dialectics between himself and his female psychotherapist, a woman he reveals as a construct. This theme of illusion created for the purpose of demonstration will be repeated. BJJ paints himself in clown white, as he and the other actors don their costumes.

Once the show (within the show) commences we are introduced to Minnie and Dido, house slaves on the Plantation Terrebonne who speak in an urban African American dialect. They provide comic relief as well as contrast to the antiquated dialogue spoken by the other black characters. BJJ plays George, the kind white heir to the plantation and M’Closkey, a despicable white overseer who schemes to cheat George out of Zoe, the love of his life, and his inheritance. Dora, the wealthy white woman, sets her cap for George, but he wants to marry only Zoe. Zoe, unfortunately, is an octoroon (1/8th black) and therefore not permitted to marry a white man.

Jenkins populates Octoroon with various characters, stereotypical, ethnically diverse, sometimes blurring the distinction between myth and reduction. Wahnotee the Indian is a drunken savage, Boucicault, a butch Southern aristocrat, Dido, a modern version of Prissy and Br’er Rabbit, Br’er Rabbit. Color-blind and multiple casting is used to great effect, evincing the conflict between honoring ethnic diversity and ignoring it.

Octoroon may be primarily an intellectual, rather than visceral experience. The play (within the play) deals exclusively in caricatures, the punchline being that Boucicault was denouncing slavery and racism, in the best way he knew how. He may have been enlightened for his time, but the diminished depiction of people of color nearly eclipses his best intentions. We get the upshot, but the 1859 melodrama feels like a debacle to us, in the 21^st Century. It’s not easy to grasp the practical application. The cartoony slant on characters makes them ludicrous, but the lack of empathy makes that sad. We can’t laugh, we can’t cry. What’s the take away?

At the risk of speculating I wonder if the possible impetus for the play (rage, frustration, indignation) is too far removed from the result. Jenkins creates a series of baffles, building tension between content and execution. We see the actors in and out of character. We see ridiculously unconvincing costumes, very much in keeping with Octoroon’s milieu. The show we witness takes some trouble to remind us of its artifices and the effect is intriguing, if not altogether emotional.

Stage West presents An Octoroon, playing August – September 30^th, 2018. 821 West Vickery Blvd, Fort Worth, Texas 76104. (817) 784-9378. www.stagewest.org

Though unacquainted with the script, I understood going in that Charley’s Aunt was a perennial of stage farce: British Comedy of Manners, drag humor, Dick Cavett once played the title role, etc. Set in 1892, amongst aristocratic college boys, Charley’s Aunt finds Jack and Charley in a quandary. Charley’s wealthy aunt is delayed and must cancel their engagement, thus depriving them of a chaperon and the company of Kitty and Amy. Their chum “Babs” (Lord Fancourt Babberly) shows up to nick their cache of champagne. Desperate to salvage their opportunity for skirt time, they badger Babs to assume the role of the mysterious heiress. As “luck” would have it, Babs is cast in a local comedy, and his lady’s togs are readily available.

Though their attempt at cross-dressing is crude at best, it’s convincing enough to fool everyone but the millionaire herself. Charley’s substitute Aunt just seems to have that certain something (!?) that others find irresistible. “She” cozies up to Jack and Charley’s girlfriends (leaving the boys stuck and steaming) and manages to cast a spell on Amy’s uncle and Jack’s dad. All of this with no particular effort. Naturally. Babs is thrilled by Amy and Kitty’s attention, and mortified by his amorous suitors.

In some ways, Charley’s Aunt reminded me of British pantos, where cross-dressing is an established tradition. The resulting humor more blatant, and yet more sly. Playwright Brandon Thomas probably owes a debt to Shakespeare, who thoroughly enjoyed gender bending. In the year 2018, when gender boundaries and talismanic attire are the subject of everyday discourse, Charley’s Aunt may feel a bit quaint. That being said, in the context of light comedy, it’s probably as good a strategy as any. Back in the day, innocence drove the punchlines. Of course the women snuggle up to a guy in a sloppy wig. Of course the impostor is a dude magnet. Rover Dramawerks’ Charley’s Aunt may leave a great deal of subtextual territory unexplored, but it undoubtedly makes for splendid, facetious comedy.

Rover Dramawerks presents Charley’s Aunt : playing September 13^th – 29th, 2018. 221 West Parker Road, Suite 580, Plano, Texas 75023. 972-849-0358. www.roverdramawerks.com

Charlie Baker’s marriage is a bit wobbly and so his old army buddy, Froggy Lu Seur, treats him to a vacation at a fishing lodge, and some respite from his troubles. The lodge is run by Betty, a sweet widow who dotes on everyone, and a longtime friend of Froggy’s. Catherine Simms lives at the lodge with her grown brother Ellard, who’s a bit slow. Catherine is engaged to The Reverend David Lee, whose intentions are not all that they appear. David is secretly friends with Owen, a toxic, unbalanced Klansman. David and Owen know that Betty could lose the lodge if crucial repairs aren’t made, and want to appropriate the lodge for their own nefarious purposes.

Charlie begs Froggy not to leave him at the lodge. He’s despondent and not interested in making new friends. He simply wishes to keep his own counsel. Froggy (in a stroke of genius) tells Betty Charlie’s “a foreigner” and can’t speak a word of English. Charlie isn’t crazy about this scheme, but he’s stuck with it. Initially, the others perceive him as a curiosity, more or less testing to see if he’s truly unable to communicate. But it’s easy enough for Charlie to fake, he’s not feeling especially gregarious.

Then a strange thing happens. As Betty, Catherine, Ellard, David and Owen attempt simple conversation with Charlie, he intuitively responds, in the context of his new guise. Knowing that he can neither repeat nor comprehend what they say, they open up in ways that can’t to each other. Like Singer in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Charlie becomes what each one needs. Unlike Carson McCullers, playwright Larry Shue weaves his narrative for humor and irony. Suddenly, the husband whose wife finds him boring, blossoms from his predicament. When Charlie is no longer himself, he finds all kinds of internal resources at his disposal.

Larry Shue takes an interesting approach to The Foreigner. He takes content that could easily be the stuff of catastrophe (infidelity, terrorism, hate crimes, larceny) and gives them a humorous slant. Charlie’s wife doesn’t hide her affairs, she’s actually quite nonchalant about them. When Charlie takes Ellard under his wing, he’s no longer the object of pity, his self- esteem increases exponentially. Over and again we grasp the wisdom of dealing with adversity by refusing to see it as cosmic rejection.

The cast (Nik Braswell, Joe Cucinotti, Robert Long, Sylvia C. Luedtke, Shay McDonald, Maxim Overton, Stephen Witkowicz, Caroline Ceolin, Josh Taylor) is consistently inspired, dedicated, convincing and gifted with amazing comic chops. Their timing is impeccable, their poise unmistakable, they bring gobs of energy, panache and warmth to the stage. The Foreigner is a splendid evening of hilarious, sly, intelligent theatre.

Pocket Sandwich Theatre presents The Foreigner, playing August 24th-September 22^nd, 2018. 5400 E Mockingbird Ln Ste 119, Dallas, Texas 75206. 214-821-1860. www.pocketsandwich.com.

Benjamin is a child born not long before the AIDS Epidemic. They diagnose him with hemophilia, when he is still a baby. Hemophiliacs lack the clotting factor, resulting in extreme hemorrhaging. The worst danger lies in internal bruising and bleeding. Hemophilia is more prevalent in boys than girls; one of the most famous cases was Alexander, the son of Alexandria and Nicholas Romanov, the last Tsar of Russia. Benjamin uses a medicine amalgamated from blood donations, and subsequently is afflicted by the HIV virus. All this before he reaches the age of 8.

When The Yellow Boat opens we bear witness to how idyllic Benjamin’s life is. He is but a wee lad, but his parents nourish him on all fronts. He’s encouraged to play, laugh, create, imagine and embrace new horizons. They correct, but never squelch. They persuade, but never strong-arm. The Yellow Boat becomes a metaphor for hope and adventure, and a world where only good succeeds. Playwright David Saar is quite perceptive in tempering his depiction of Benjamin and his folks. They are warm and sweet-natured, but down to earth. Benjamin himself is eminently likable but never crosses the line into preciousness or spunk. When one of his buddies informs him that a girl is fond of him, he is less than enthusiastic.

There is something truly miraculous about The Yellow Boat, beyond the way it finds moments of genuine mirth in the midst of overwhelming sadness. Which is certainly remarkable enough. The first rule of tragedy is : never stack the deck. If the situation is bleak, let the content speak for itself. Saar, director Taylor Owen, and the cast and crew, et al, have immersed us in this emotionally charged experience, without holding us hostage to the intense grief that is almost inevitable. They include us, (and yes, tears are definitely in the mix) but respect us enough to honor our humanity without exploiting it. We come away with deep appreciation for Benjamin’s parents, who were always honest with him, even when it was more tempting to sugarcoat. Theatre is so much about chemistry. So much about intuition. So much about tone. It feels odd to say The Yellow Boat was in many ways a joyful drama, but it doesn’t wring you out. We get a true sense of Benjamin’s zeal for living, the doors he opened for everyone he met.

Resolute Theatre Project presents The Yellow Boat, playing September 7th-16th, 2018. Amy’s Studio of Performing Arts, 11888 Marsh Lane, Suite 600, Dallas, Texas 75234. 972-484-7900. www.resolutetheatreproject.com

Perhaps we must read Adrienne Rich or Andrea Dworkin or Alice Walker to realize how pervasively degrading, angry and punitive attitudes towards women persist. We don’t notice because we’re submerged from the onset. We don’t think to look for it. Once I honked to wave at a friend of mine (walking by herself) to get her attention. It never occurred to me she might have had ugly experiences from strangers. I was woke. The differences in our experience was made sadly, horribly clear.

When we enter the theater for Revolt. She Said. Revolt Again., the space overpowers with bright white. Everything: chairs, walls, floor, steps, is brilliant white. Illumination? Starting from scratch? Emptiness? Playwright Alice Birch takes us through scenarios that illustrate the tilted dynamics between men and women. In the first, the female sexual partner wants to take on the role as aggressor, in the next, a dedicated employee wants to have Mondays off (her boss keeps wanting to make it about her gender) in the next, a woman lies down in the grocery aisle, dress up over head, genitals exposed. She explains she’d rather capitulate to the objectification of her body, rather than have the privilege taken by force. Though not in those words. What begins as nearly comical morphs into the desolate and grotesque. Birch gives us just enough information to pique and engage us.

We might look upon Revolt. She Said. Revolt Again. as a succession of dialogues and soliloquy that examine components of what it means to be female in relation to men and other women. Perhaps an attempt at reverse indoctrination. Motherhood, for example, can be used as a kind of oppression if it’s not what a woman needs in her path to fulfillment. In a particularly heartbreaking passage we gather the grandmother/mother feels no need to claim maternity as part of her identity. Bearing children doesn’t work for all women. Women aren’t obliged to consider their destiny in terms of some debt to society.

As we might ascertain from the title, this call to arms is a somewhat cerebral anarchy. It presents situations intelligently, often with somber irony. It has a 70’s feel (appropriately enough) and its grievances are carefully, skillfully presented, with dry rage. There are slide titles, red lights, sirens, bells, culminating in a chaotic, stream-of-consciousness jeremiad, expressing intense brokenness and confusion. As a whole the show is beguiling, troubling, provocative, though perhaps not as integrated as we might hope. We arrive expecting urgency, but at the core it feels more calm.

The cast of four women and one man (Christie Vela, Jenny Ledel, Max Hartman, Lydia Mackay and Tia Laulusa) directed by Vela, are fearless and bring spontaneity and wit to this unorthodox reflection on hubris, the patriarchy, female identity and wasted purpose. The script (as discussed at the Talk Back) left much to the discretion of the venue, and STT’s Revolt felt quite authentic and poignant as they sorted out the shape, logistics and personal truths of the piece.

Second Thought Theatre presents: Revolt. She Said. Revolt Again. Playing August 22nd-September 15^th, 2018. Bryant Hall. 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. 1-866) 811-4111. info@secondthoughttheatre.com