Others Are Saying...
Triumphant ‘Las Hermanas Palacios’ adapts Chekhov’s ‘Three Sisters’ at GALA
KJ Moran Velz
February 5, 2024
Anton Chekhov once said that “what happens onstage should be just as complicated and just as simple as things are in real life. People are sitting at a table having dinner, that’s all, but at the same time their happiness is being created, or their lives are being torn apart.” In GALA Hispanic Theatre’s world premiere of Las Hermanas Palacios (The Palacios Sisters), this triumphant adaptation of Chekhov’s Three Sisters does just that.
Las Hermanas Palacios captures both the complications and simplicity of life with a specificity in its writing and design so chillingly precise that I had trouble believing I was in a theater in Columbia Heights and not actually in 1985 Miami. The play follows Olga, María, and Irinita Palacios as they navigate their new lives in exile, away from their beloved Havana.
As the play begins, we are catapulted through time and space to La Varona’s nightclub to celebrate the 21st birthday of Irinita, the baby of the Palacios siblings. At La Varona’s, the lights hum in neon, transforming the set from the Palacios’ modest green home into a pulsating club. Gloria Estefan rings in our ears as the company enters and the owner of the nightclub, La Varona (Luz Nicolás), hypes up the audience as if we were club patrons. Nancy (Rachael Small), the suffocatingly pink Midwestern showgirl, dances as Palacios brother Andrés (Víctor Salinas) plays the trumpet.
Newly arrived from Cuba, Irinita (Carolina Reyes) is already desperate to return to Havana, the Palacios’ own version of Chekhov’s Moscow — the unrealistic projection of all their hopes and dreams. All four siblings find themselves wanting: Irinita longs to dance at the National Ballet of Cuba, while her older sister María (Catherine Nuñez) wishes for a child despite the abuses of her policeman husband. Their brother hopes to play his more serious repertoire as a pianist as Olga (Yaiza Figueroa) is the fiercely protective and pragmatic eldest sister who wants to keep the family together, especially as the violence and unrest of Miami threatens to destroy them all. She also hopes to push Nancy, her brother’s pregnant girlfriend, from their lives as she threatens to wedge herself into their family, both financially and physically.
As I write this review, it strikes me that these problems seem rather mundane — and they certainly feel that way in many productions of Three Sisters. It’s a naturalistic work, certainly, but Las Hermanas Palacios elevates the original text for audiences in the United States and the Americas by making Havana the city on which many of the characters pin their hopes. Chumo (Gerardo Ortiz González), a friend of the Palacios’ deceased father, is a philosophizing fool who sums up their lives in exile by describing Cuba as “less than an hour away by plane yet unreachable — except in our imaginations.” Like many immigrants, the Palacios have exaggerated what their homeland could ever really do for them. As Chumo says in his final scene, “Exile has its burdens but so does returning. And returning for what exactly? To compare our ledger of memories to an impossible reality?”
Yet, how simple can these problems really be when compounded by the threats of drug-war Miami? They live not in the Havana of their dreams but in the disparate reality of a violent and dangerous city on the brink, where a crazed assassin named Mono (Delbis Cardona) stalks Irinita, a handsome businessman named Virgil (Camilo Linares) tempts María outside her marriage, and a priestess named Ana Sofia (Nadia Palacios) attempts to guide the very lost Palacios sisters using the Afro-Cuban syncretic religion of santería, which combines elements of Catholicism with the Yoruba religion of West Africa.
Together, the Palacios sisters and the rich tapestry of supporting characters that make Alea’s and García’s Miami so vivid come together to create one of the tightest ensembles I have seen in years. There is not a weak link among them. As an ensemble, they balance the comedy of the everyday with the pain and heartbreak of life’s worst moments with clarity and skill.
Linares’ Virgil, who has magnetism and charm up the wazoo, shines as the love interest for Nuñez’s María — their chemistry as the doomed couple is off the charts, particularly in scenes choreographed by intimacy choreographer Chelsea Pace. Nuñez also brings sharp comedic timing in any scene with her onstage sister Figueroa, but she balances the comedy deftly with the heartbreak. Her performance captures the loneliness of an abusive marriage and the hope Linares’ Virgil offers with nuance and grace. Ultimately, every performance balances what Chekhov described — the simplicity and the complication of having dinner as some are creating happiness, some are having their lives torn apart. Reyes’ Irinita’s naivety, which turns into bitter disillusionment as the play goes on, also dances gracefully along the line of the simple and the complicated.
Beyond the intense and earnest family drama at its heart, Las Hermanas Palacios is surprisingly laugh-out-loud funny, in no small part due to the sisters as well as the nasty, conniving, but delightful portrayal of Nancy by Rachael Small. Every scene with Nicolás’ La Varona made the audience erupt into laughter, up until her devastating end. But, like many of Nicolás’ iconic roles, La Varona was more than met the eye — the lesbian character, though the life of the party, was also underscored by a deep sadness that not even her shiny bright jumpsuits could hide. Nicolás, as always, played the humor and the heartbreak with aplomb and proved that, like Meryl Streep, she can play any role she wants.
In addition to the brilliant actors, every bit of design was in service of Cristina García’s script and Adrián Alea’s direction — from the moment the lights dimmed, the audience knew exactly where we were in space and time because of the pitch-perfect sound design (Justin Schmitz), the insanely detailed lighting design (Hailey LaRoe), precise and charmingly specific scenic design (Frank J. Oliva), and sumptuous costume design that I wanted to steal for my personal closet (Rodrigo Muñoz). As co-conceivers, Alea and García adapted and improved upon a classic for a modern audience with precision and style. Like the ensemble, there was not a weak link in the design — this production and creative team was a match made in heaven, or as close to heaven as we can get…which may be Havana for these characters, but for me might just be GALA Hispanic Theatre.
https://dctheaterarts.org/2024/02/05/triumphant-las-hermanas-palacios-adapts-chekhovs-three-sisters-at-gala/
Las Hermanas Palacios captures both the complications and simplicity of life with a specificity in its writing and design so chillingly precise that I had trouble believing I was in a theater in Columbia Heights and not actually in 1985 Miami. The play follows Olga, María, and Irinita Palacios as they navigate their new lives in exile, away from their beloved Havana.
As the play begins, we are catapulted through time and space to La Varona’s nightclub to celebrate the 21st birthday of Irinita, the baby of the Palacios siblings. At La Varona’s, the lights hum in neon, transforming the set from the Palacios’ modest green home into a pulsating club. Gloria Estefan rings in our ears as the company enters and the owner of the nightclub, La Varona (Luz Nicolás), hypes up the audience as if we were club patrons. Nancy (Rachael Small), the suffocatingly pink Midwestern showgirl, dances as Palacios brother Andrés (Víctor Salinas) plays the trumpet.
Newly arrived from Cuba, Irinita (Carolina Reyes) is already desperate to return to Havana, the Palacios’ own version of Chekhov’s Moscow — the unrealistic projection of all their hopes and dreams. All four siblings find themselves wanting: Irinita longs to dance at the National Ballet of Cuba, while her older sister María (Catherine Nuñez) wishes for a child despite the abuses of her policeman husband. Their brother hopes to play his more serious repertoire as a pianist as Olga (Yaiza Figueroa) is the fiercely protective and pragmatic eldest sister who wants to keep the family together, especially as the violence and unrest of Miami threatens to destroy them all. She also hopes to push Nancy, her brother’s pregnant girlfriend, from their lives as she threatens to wedge herself into their family, both financially and physically.
As I write this review, it strikes me that these problems seem rather mundane — and they certainly feel that way in many productions of Three Sisters. It’s a naturalistic work, certainly, but Las Hermanas Palacios elevates the original text for audiences in the United States and the Americas by making Havana the city on which many of the characters pin their hopes. Chumo (Gerardo Ortiz González), a friend of the Palacios’ deceased father, is a philosophizing fool who sums up their lives in exile by describing Cuba as “less than an hour away by plane yet unreachable — except in our imaginations.” Like many immigrants, the Palacios have exaggerated what their homeland could ever really do for them. As Chumo says in his final scene, “Exile has its burdens but so does returning. And returning for what exactly? To compare our ledger of memories to an impossible reality?”
Yet, how simple can these problems really be when compounded by the threats of drug-war Miami? They live not in the Havana of their dreams but in the disparate reality of a violent and dangerous city on the brink, where a crazed assassin named Mono (Delbis Cardona) stalks Irinita, a handsome businessman named Virgil (Camilo Linares) tempts María outside her marriage, and a priestess named Ana Sofia (Nadia Palacios) attempts to guide the very lost Palacios sisters using the Afro-Cuban syncretic religion of santería, which combines elements of Catholicism with the Yoruba religion of West Africa.
Together, the Palacios sisters and the rich tapestry of supporting characters that make Alea’s and García’s Miami so vivid come together to create one of the tightest ensembles I have seen in years. There is not a weak link among them. As an ensemble, they balance the comedy of the everyday with the pain and heartbreak of life’s worst moments with clarity and skill.
Linares’ Virgil, who has magnetism and charm up the wazoo, shines as the love interest for Nuñez’s María — their chemistry as the doomed couple is off the charts, particularly in scenes choreographed by intimacy choreographer Chelsea Pace. Nuñez also brings sharp comedic timing in any scene with her onstage sister Figueroa, but she balances the comedy deftly with the heartbreak. Her performance captures the loneliness of an abusive marriage and the hope Linares’ Virgil offers with nuance and grace. Ultimately, every performance balances what Chekhov described — the simplicity and the complication of having dinner as some are creating happiness, some are having their lives torn apart. Reyes’ Irinita’s naivety, which turns into bitter disillusionment as the play goes on, also dances gracefully along the line of the simple and the complicated.
Beyond the intense and earnest family drama at its heart, Las Hermanas Palacios is surprisingly laugh-out-loud funny, in no small part due to the sisters as well as the nasty, conniving, but delightful portrayal of Nancy by Rachael Small. Every scene with Nicolás’ La Varona made the audience erupt into laughter, up until her devastating end. But, like many of Nicolás’ iconic roles, La Varona was more than met the eye — the lesbian character, though the life of the party, was also underscored by a deep sadness that not even her shiny bright jumpsuits could hide. Nicolás, as always, played the humor and the heartbreak with aplomb and proved that, like Meryl Streep, she can play any role she wants.
In addition to the brilliant actors, every bit of design was in service of Cristina García’s script and Adrián Alea’s direction — from the moment the lights dimmed, the audience knew exactly where we were in space and time because of the pitch-perfect sound design (Justin Schmitz), the insanely detailed lighting design (Hailey LaRoe), precise and charmingly specific scenic design (Frank J. Oliva), and sumptuous costume design that I wanted to steal for my personal closet (Rodrigo Muñoz). As co-conceivers, Alea and García adapted and improved upon a classic for a modern audience with precision and style. Like the ensemble, there was not a weak link in the design — this production and creative team was a match made in heaven, or as close to heaven as we can get…which may be Havana for these characters, but for me might just be GALA Hispanic Theatre.
https://dctheaterarts.org/2024/02/05/triumphant-las-hermanas-palacios-adapts-chekhovs-three-sisters-at-gala/
For CTC, Schmitz takes the board as 'Pride and Prejudice' sound designer
The Chautauquan Daily
By Julia Weber
July 25, 2023
Chautauquans who were present for Carol Burnett’s Amphitheater appearance at the Institution in 2015 may remember Chautauqua Theater Company’s Pride and Prejudice sound designer and composer Justin Schmitz. Schmitz, who first came to the Institution as a sound design fellow in 2013, was helping to run sound at the Amp the night of the performance when he was tasked with helping Burnett onstage and ended up in a charismatic back-and-forth with her. Initially tasked with bringing a chair to Burnett during the performance, Schmitz leaned into the legendary comedian’s improvisation onstage and the two engaged in playful banter that Schmitz likened to his job as a sound designer.
“It was so, so incredible. It ultimately reminded me as a designer to lean into the ‘Yes, and.’ … You keep it fun, you keep it moving, you keep it light, you keep it exciting. That’s the whole point of design,” he said.
Now, Schmitz continues to combine his love for Chautauqua and playfulness as the sound designer and composer for CTC’s latest mainstage production.
CTC’s run of Kate Hamill’s Pride and Prejudice continues at 4 p.m. today in Bratton Theater. Hamill’s adaptation of the classic Jane Austen novel, which approaches the classic novel with humor and a modern feminist lens, runs through July 30.
In addition to his work with CTC’s production of Pride and Prejudice, Schmitz works on CHQ Assembly, the platform that allows for lectures to be viewed virtually. He and the CHQ Assembly team began their work on the platform at the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Schmitz is excited for play-goers to enjoy the fun, lighthearted version of the play that the cast and company have created. Sound design and music composition is very experimental and requires extensive trial-and-error. Often, Schmitz and the other members of the production team go through many versions of a sound before they find the most fitting one. “There’s the phrase, ‘You’ve got to kill your darlings’ and that is so true in sound design because sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, and it’s just about play,” he said.
He emphasized the collaborative nature of sound design, citing both the other members of the sound team and behind-the-scenes individuals like Katie Rose McLaughlin, choreographer for the production, and Jade King Carroll, the play’s director and CTC’s producing artistic director. “You have to lean on your collaborators as a team,” Schmitz said. “That’s really, truly where it all blends together and becomes the final product.”
While Schmitz said sound design is like another character on the stage, it’s simultaneously one of the most behind-the-scenes aspects of theater productions. Often, seemingly simple sounds, whether diegetic — heard by the characters within the story — or non-diegetic, take extensive planning and workshopping. Schmitz said sound design, if done well, often goes unnoticed by theater-goers. He relies on sounds to feel natural and cohesive for listeners, immersing audiences in the performance.
Schmitz is also passionate about ensuring that he creates accessible sound designs for everyone in the audience. He relies on an array of tools, including things like assisted-listening devices and subwoofers, to make sure everyone has an immersive experience. “I want that experience for that person who is wearing an assisted-listening device to be just as fun and just as charismatic as everyone else who is in the audience is experiencing that experience,” he said. Schmitz is excited for viewers to take in the production in all its aspects.
“It’s going to look really stunning and it’s going to feel really elegant and it’s just going to be beautiful,” he said. “For a moment, the world gets to melt away, and I get to help the world melt away.”
https://chqdaily.com/2023/07/for-ctc-schmitz-takes-the-board-as-pride-and-prejudice-sound-designer/
“It was so, so incredible. It ultimately reminded me as a designer to lean into the ‘Yes, and.’ … You keep it fun, you keep it moving, you keep it light, you keep it exciting. That’s the whole point of design,” he said.
Now, Schmitz continues to combine his love for Chautauqua and playfulness as the sound designer and composer for CTC’s latest mainstage production.
CTC’s run of Kate Hamill’s Pride and Prejudice continues at 4 p.m. today in Bratton Theater. Hamill’s adaptation of the classic Jane Austen novel, which approaches the classic novel with humor and a modern feminist lens, runs through July 30.
In addition to his work with CTC’s production of Pride and Prejudice, Schmitz works on CHQ Assembly, the platform that allows for lectures to be viewed virtually. He and the CHQ Assembly team began their work on the platform at the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Schmitz is excited for play-goers to enjoy the fun, lighthearted version of the play that the cast and company have created. Sound design and music composition is very experimental and requires extensive trial-and-error. Often, Schmitz and the other members of the production team go through many versions of a sound before they find the most fitting one. “There’s the phrase, ‘You’ve got to kill your darlings’ and that is so true in sound design because sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, and it’s just about play,” he said.
He emphasized the collaborative nature of sound design, citing both the other members of the sound team and behind-the-scenes individuals like Katie Rose McLaughlin, choreographer for the production, and Jade King Carroll, the play’s director and CTC’s producing artistic director. “You have to lean on your collaborators as a team,” Schmitz said. “That’s really, truly where it all blends together and becomes the final product.”
While Schmitz said sound design is like another character on the stage, it’s simultaneously one of the most behind-the-scenes aspects of theater productions. Often, seemingly simple sounds, whether diegetic — heard by the characters within the story — or non-diegetic, take extensive planning and workshopping. Schmitz said sound design, if done well, often goes unnoticed by theater-goers. He relies on sounds to feel natural and cohesive for listeners, immersing audiences in the performance.
Schmitz is also passionate about ensuring that he creates accessible sound designs for everyone in the audience. He relies on an array of tools, including things like assisted-listening devices and subwoofers, to make sure everyone has an immersive experience. “I want that experience for that person who is wearing an assisted-listening device to be just as fun and just as charismatic as everyone else who is in the audience is experiencing that experience,” he said. Schmitz is excited for viewers to take in the production in all its aspects.
“It’s going to look really stunning and it’s going to feel really elegant and it’s just going to be beautiful,” he said. “For a moment, the world gets to melt away, and I get to help the world melt away.”
https://chqdaily.com/2023/07/for-ctc-schmitz-takes-the-board-as-pride-and-prejudice-sound-designer/
Review of Eubie! at The Black Rep
By Bob Wilcox
The Black Rep is laying out for us on the Edison Theatre stage a glorious theatrical feast. This feast has no drama to fascinate us. But it has everything else you can have in theatre, all done exactly as they should be. Start with the material. The show is called Eubie! Eubie Blake was a composer of popular music in the first half of the 20th century. He worked with a lyricist named Noble Sissle. They had several big hits, including one that the popular vaudeville and nightclub singer Sophie Tucker popularized. Even more, they took the bold step for African-Americans of writing a musical, Shuffle Along, with ragtime and other African-American kinds of music and a mostly Black cast. It ran on Broadway for 500 performances.
In 1978, a Broadway showman named Julianne Boyd decided this material was too good to forget. He put together an evening that he called Eubie!,with material from Shuffle Along and other Blake hits. This, too, did well on Broadway, and Blake, who had a long life, became a regular on Johnny Carson’s late night show, playing the piano, singing his songs, chatting with Johnny. This is the material The Black Rep is now playing to delight us.
The costumes delight the eye. The cast opens in formal evening wear, with the men’s vests matching the color range of the women’s gowns. And the costumes move on from there, constantly changing, most less formal than at first but always inventive and appropriate, attractive on the women and on the men, who sometimes got to display how buff they are. Marc W. Vital II designed the costumes, and he seemed to have a budget equal to his brilliance as a designer.
This kind of musical evening rarely needs much in the way of a set, nor did Eubie! Scenic Designer Tim Jones met the need with an intriguing open-work logo upstage for the show, somewhere between Art Nouveau and Art Deco, appropriate for the period, hanging over two platforms a step or two up, very helpful for director Ron Himes when arranging his forces on the stage. Chairs and tables and even a courtroom are added as needed. Given the open stage, the range and clarity of Jasmine Williams’ lighting design is crucial.
Justin Schmitz’s sound design ably supported the singers and the work of Musical Director Joe Dryer and his ensemble, located upstage of a stage-wide scrim – now you see them, now you don’t.
Much of the organizing of movement on the stage in a show of this kind is of necessity turned over from the director to the choreographers. Eubie! has three, all excellent. Vivian Watt brought her training with Katherine Dunham into the production. I am more impressed every time I see what Heather Beal does with choreography for the performers in musical theatre. Robert Crenshaw choreographed the tap numbers, which are sensational. He even touched toe on stage a few times himself.
Because I have no characters by which I can identify the actors playing them, and I don’t know the songs well enough for me to identify the singers by what they sing, I must resort only to sharing with you the names of those performing, all with excellence: Coda Boyce, DeAnte Bryant, Robert Crenshaw, Serdalyer Darden, Evann De-Bose, Samantha Madison, Venezie Manuel, Carvas Pickens, Tamara PiLar, and J’Kobe Wallace.
My thanks to one and all at The Black Rep for a lovely evening of theatre.
https://hecmedia.org/posts/review-of-eubie-at-the-black-rep
In 1978, a Broadway showman named Julianne Boyd decided this material was too good to forget. He put together an evening that he called Eubie!,with material from Shuffle Along and other Blake hits. This, too, did well on Broadway, and Blake, who had a long life, became a regular on Johnny Carson’s late night show, playing the piano, singing his songs, chatting with Johnny. This is the material The Black Rep is now playing to delight us.
The costumes delight the eye. The cast opens in formal evening wear, with the men’s vests matching the color range of the women’s gowns. And the costumes move on from there, constantly changing, most less formal than at first but always inventive and appropriate, attractive on the women and on the men, who sometimes got to display how buff they are. Marc W. Vital II designed the costumes, and he seemed to have a budget equal to his brilliance as a designer.
This kind of musical evening rarely needs much in the way of a set, nor did Eubie! Scenic Designer Tim Jones met the need with an intriguing open-work logo upstage for the show, somewhere between Art Nouveau and Art Deco, appropriate for the period, hanging over two platforms a step or two up, very helpful for director Ron Himes when arranging his forces on the stage. Chairs and tables and even a courtroom are added as needed. Given the open stage, the range and clarity of Jasmine Williams’ lighting design is crucial.
Justin Schmitz’s sound design ably supported the singers and the work of Musical Director Joe Dryer and his ensemble, located upstage of a stage-wide scrim – now you see them, now you don’t.
Much of the organizing of movement on the stage in a show of this kind is of necessity turned over from the director to the choreographers. Eubie! has three, all excellent. Vivian Watt brought her training with Katherine Dunham into the production. I am more impressed every time I see what Heather Beal does with choreography for the performers in musical theatre. Robert Crenshaw choreographed the tap numbers, which are sensational. He even touched toe on stage a few times himself.
Because I have no characters by which I can identify the actors playing them, and I don’t know the songs well enough for me to identify the singers by what they sing, I must resort only to sharing with you the names of those performing, all with excellence: Coda Boyce, DeAnte Bryant, Robert Crenshaw, Serdalyer Darden, Evann De-Bose, Samantha Madison, Venezie Manuel, Carvas Pickens, Tamara PiLar, and J’Kobe Wallace.
My thanks to one and all at The Black Rep for a lovely evening of theatre.
https://hecmedia.org/posts/review-of-eubie-at-the-black-rep
With Vim And Vigor, The Black Rep Celebrates Eubie Blake In Stellar Musical Revue
By: Lynn Venhaus
May 15, 2023
Guaranteed to put a spring in your step and a song in your heart, “Eubie!” is a sparkling and joyous tribute to one of the groundbreaking talents of the 20th century. The Black Rep’s third time presenting a musical revue of American musician and composer Eubie Blake’s greatest hits is musical theater of the finest caliber. The convivial cast, high-spirited choreography, cheerful musical numbers, elegant costumes, and silky-smooth orchestra combine for an uplifting production.
The musical extolling the talents of James Hubert “Eubie” Blake over his long, lauded career, especially his achievements in the early 1900s that helped spark the fabled Harlem Renaissance in the ‘20s and ‘30s, was the of the toast of the 1978-1979 Broadway season, nominated for three Tony Awards, including Eubie’s score and Gregory Hines’ performance. Blake died in 1983 at 96 years old.
With his 1921 musical, “Shuffle Along,” he and lyricist Noble Sissle helped break down racial barriers because it was the first Broadway musical written, directed by and starring black Americans. It also helped shape American musical theater as we know it today. In 2006, his album “The Eighty-Six Years of Eubie Blake” from 1969 was included in the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry by the National Recording Preservation Board. They annually select music that is “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.”
This effervescent cast has individual standouts but really comes together as an ensemble to celebrate Eubie’s contributions in ragtime, jazz, and popular music. Director Ron Himes’s thorough knowledge of the piece and the song styles helps expertly extract the very best from the cast, which has five performers making their Black Rep debut (DeAnte Bryant, Serdalyer Darden, Carvas Pickens, Tamara PiLar, and J’Kobe Wallace). Himes deftly stages the group numbers – ‘Shuffle Along,” “I’m Just Simply Full of Jazz,” “High Steppin’ Days,” and “Roll Jordan” with polished and buoyant dance designed by master choreographers Heather Beal and Vivian Watt. Such verve!
Noteworthy in the Black Rep’s last musical, “Don’t Bother Me, I Can’t Cope” in 2019, the multi-faceted Robert Crenshaw stars and designed the tap choreography, He dances with such joy, that when he’s performing a solo number, it’s extraordinary, especially in “Low Down Blues” and “Hot Feet.”
In perhaps Blake’s most well-known song, “I’m Just Wild About Harry,” Crenshaw joined Evann De-Bose, Coda Boyce, Samantha Madison and PiLar for a rousing rendition. Crenshaw opened the show with Boyce and Venezia Manuel, performing the jolly “Charleston Rag” and “Good Night Angeline” in the prologue. Boyce, so good in “The African Company Presents Richard III” at the Black Rep last year, shows off her vocal chops in “Craving for That Kind of Love” and her playful moves in “Baltimore Buzz” with Manuel and lithe Bryant and Wallace.
The acrobatic moves of Bryant and Wallace are eye-popping and crowd-pleasing, and add pizzazz to the music numbers, Wallace is especially impressive in “Dixie Moon” and “Got to Get the Getting While the Gittin’s Good.” Newcomer Darden has a good time with “I’m a Great Big Baby” and other solos of note include PiLar in “Daddy,” and De-Bose in “Memories of You.” PiLar has a terrific duet with powerful-voiced Pickens in “My Handyman Isn’t Handy Anymore.”
They both have a good time with the cast in a fun, very theatrical number “If You Never Been Vamped by a Brownskin, You’ve Never Been Vamped At All,” where they take on roles of The Vamp, wife, husband, judge, bailiff and jury. Taijah Silas is part of the 11-person ensemble, and they all move with vigor and enthusiasm.
Phillip Hamer PhotoMusic Director Joe Dreyer, who also plays piano, is a virtuoso musician, and seamlessly leads a superb orchestra of Chris Tomlin on tuba, Bernard Long on drums, Anthony Wiggins on trumpet and Harvey Lockhart on saxophone. They are behind a scrim, but they breeze through the music catalogue with aplomb. The musicians are part of this dream team that delighted in delivering a beautiful lesson in music appreciation of an earlier era.
The sound design by Justin Schmitz is splendid, and so is the look of the production, with impressive lighting design by Jasmine Williams and scenic design by Tim Jones setting the atmosphere through the decades. Costume Designer Marc W. Vital II’s exceptional craftsmanship captured the period’s glamour perfectly.
It’s rare when you get to experience not only the cast having the best time on stage, but the audience thoroughly engaged and enchanted with the vitality of those involved. “Eubie!” closes the Black Rep’s 46th season on a high note.
https://poplifestl.com/tag/justin-schmitz/
The musical extolling the talents of James Hubert “Eubie” Blake over his long, lauded career, especially his achievements in the early 1900s that helped spark the fabled Harlem Renaissance in the ‘20s and ‘30s, was the of the toast of the 1978-1979 Broadway season, nominated for three Tony Awards, including Eubie’s score and Gregory Hines’ performance. Blake died in 1983 at 96 years old.
With his 1921 musical, “Shuffle Along,” he and lyricist Noble Sissle helped break down racial barriers because it was the first Broadway musical written, directed by and starring black Americans. It also helped shape American musical theater as we know it today. In 2006, his album “The Eighty-Six Years of Eubie Blake” from 1969 was included in the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry by the National Recording Preservation Board. They annually select music that is “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.”
This effervescent cast has individual standouts but really comes together as an ensemble to celebrate Eubie’s contributions in ragtime, jazz, and popular music. Director Ron Himes’s thorough knowledge of the piece and the song styles helps expertly extract the very best from the cast, which has five performers making their Black Rep debut (DeAnte Bryant, Serdalyer Darden, Carvas Pickens, Tamara PiLar, and J’Kobe Wallace). Himes deftly stages the group numbers – ‘Shuffle Along,” “I’m Just Simply Full of Jazz,” “High Steppin’ Days,” and “Roll Jordan” with polished and buoyant dance designed by master choreographers Heather Beal and Vivian Watt. Such verve!
Noteworthy in the Black Rep’s last musical, “Don’t Bother Me, I Can’t Cope” in 2019, the multi-faceted Robert Crenshaw stars and designed the tap choreography, He dances with such joy, that when he’s performing a solo number, it’s extraordinary, especially in “Low Down Blues” and “Hot Feet.”
In perhaps Blake’s most well-known song, “I’m Just Wild About Harry,” Crenshaw joined Evann De-Bose, Coda Boyce, Samantha Madison and PiLar for a rousing rendition. Crenshaw opened the show with Boyce and Venezia Manuel, performing the jolly “Charleston Rag” and “Good Night Angeline” in the prologue. Boyce, so good in “The African Company Presents Richard III” at the Black Rep last year, shows off her vocal chops in “Craving for That Kind of Love” and her playful moves in “Baltimore Buzz” with Manuel and lithe Bryant and Wallace.
The acrobatic moves of Bryant and Wallace are eye-popping and crowd-pleasing, and add pizzazz to the music numbers, Wallace is especially impressive in “Dixie Moon” and “Got to Get the Getting While the Gittin’s Good.” Newcomer Darden has a good time with “I’m a Great Big Baby” and other solos of note include PiLar in “Daddy,” and De-Bose in “Memories of You.” PiLar has a terrific duet with powerful-voiced Pickens in “My Handyman Isn’t Handy Anymore.”
They both have a good time with the cast in a fun, very theatrical number “If You Never Been Vamped by a Brownskin, You’ve Never Been Vamped At All,” where they take on roles of The Vamp, wife, husband, judge, bailiff and jury. Taijah Silas is part of the 11-person ensemble, and they all move with vigor and enthusiasm.
Phillip Hamer PhotoMusic Director Joe Dreyer, who also plays piano, is a virtuoso musician, and seamlessly leads a superb orchestra of Chris Tomlin on tuba, Bernard Long on drums, Anthony Wiggins on trumpet and Harvey Lockhart on saxophone. They are behind a scrim, but they breeze through the music catalogue with aplomb. The musicians are part of this dream team that delighted in delivering a beautiful lesson in music appreciation of an earlier era.
The sound design by Justin Schmitz is splendid, and so is the look of the production, with impressive lighting design by Jasmine Williams and scenic design by Tim Jones setting the atmosphere through the decades. Costume Designer Marc W. Vital II’s exceptional craftsmanship captured the period’s glamour perfectly.
It’s rare when you get to experience not only the cast having the best time on stage, but the audience thoroughly engaged and enchanted with the vitality of those involved. “Eubie!” closes the Black Rep’s 46th season on a high note.
https://poplifestl.com/tag/justin-schmitz/
Review: 'Jennifer Who Is Leaving' at
Round House is a Hilarious Treat
The Washington Post
By Celia Wren
April 18, 2023
The doughnuts are running low at the Dunkin’ in “Jennifer Who Is Leaving,” now making its world premiere at Round House Theatre. No matter: You’ll get a sugar high just from the acting talent in this hilarious and meaningful play written and directed by Morgan Gould.
Nancy Robinette, Kimberly Gilbert and Floyd King star in the dark comedy about overworked caregivers and unequal gender-role expectations. The three actors’ masterful comic timing sharpens the humor in the play, which is part of Round House’s National Capital New Play Festival. When the tale shifts into a more somber mode, the performers deepen the poignancy.
Helping out is Paige Hathaway’s terrific Dunkin’ set, which is so detailed you can even glimpse what look like labor law posters when the door to the employee area swings open. It’s at this Massachusetts spot that you can find Nan (Robinette), a night-shift employee who is a whirlwind of activity — mopping, cleaning the plate-glass door, making up takeaway cartons, preparing breakfast wraps and manhandling paper towels. (Sound designer Justin Schmitz’s in-store pop tunes, and the props coordinated by Andrea “Dre” Moore, add to the realism.)
When Nan slows down, it’s usually to take phone calls from her clueless husband, Chuck. In the calls — among the play’s funniest sequences — her voice ranges through degrees of long suffering, exasperation and flirtatiousness as she gives Chuck instructions on, for instance, where to look for his car keys, how to warm up a casserole, how to use plastic wrap, and how and when to give the dog a pill.
Nan finds a kindred soul in Jennifer (Gilbert), a bone-weary nurse’s aide who’s at the Dunkin’ waiting for a tow truck, in the company of her cantankerous elderly patient Joey (King). Like Nan, Jennifer has a burdensome husband, and a comparison of their spouses’ flaws sends the women into hysterical laughter — until it doesn’t. An adjacent fertile topic: the Sisyphean demands of housework.
For both Jennifer and Nan, economic insecurity exacerbates the problems of overwork and unequal domestic labor. Gould (Studio Theatre’s “I Wanna F---ing Tear You Apart”) clarifies this point with a more privileged character: the inconsiderate teenager Lili (Annie Fang, nicely sulky), who aims to attend Oberlin.
The play’s socioeconomic themes and apt — if not exactly subtle — perspective on women’s domestic burdens entwine with the often superb comedy. In his more uproarious moments as Joey, King makes hay with doughnut consumption: Joey doesn’t so much eat a doughnut as nibble and gum it, lick its glaze, scatter its crumbs and revolve it stickily as if hoping the taste will be better on the other side.
His snacking habits, needless to say, make a mess — which the women clean up.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/theater-dance/2023/04/18/jennifer-leaving-play-round-house/
Nancy Robinette, Kimberly Gilbert and Floyd King star in the dark comedy about overworked caregivers and unequal gender-role expectations. The three actors’ masterful comic timing sharpens the humor in the play, which is part of Round House’s National Capital New Play Festival. When the tale shifts into a more somber mode, the performers deepen the poignancy.
Helping out is Paige Hathaway’s terrific Dunkin’ set, which is so detailed you can even glimpse what look like labor law posters when the door to the employee area swings open. It’s at this Massachusetts spot that you can find Nan (Robinette), a night-shift employee who is a whirlwind of activity — mopping, cleaning the plate-glass door, making up takeaway cartons, preparing breakfast wraps and manhandling paper towels. (Sound designer Justin Schmitz’s in-store pop tunes, and the props coordinated by Andrea “Dre” Moore, add to the realism.)
When Nan slows down, it’s usually to take phone calls from her clueless husband, Chuck. In the calls — among the play’s funniest sequences — her voice ranges through degrees of long suffering, exasperation and flirtatiousness as she gives Chuck instructions on, for instance, where to look for his car keys, how to warm up a casserole, how to use plastic wrap, and how and when to give the dog a pill.
Nan finds a kindred soul in Jennifer (Gilbert), a bone-weary nurse’s aide who’s at the Dunkin’ waiting for a tow truck, in the company of her cantankerous elderly patient Joey (King). Like Nan, Jennifer has a burdensome husband, and a comparison of their spouses’ flaws sends the women into hysterical laughter — until it doesn’t. An adjacent fertile topic: the Sisyphean demands of housework.
For both Jennifer and Nan, economic insecurity exacerbates the problems of overwork and unequal domestic labor. Gould (Studio Theatre’s “I Wanna F---ing Tear You Apart”) clarifies this point with a more privileged character: the inconsiderate teenager Lili (Annie Fang, nicely sulky), who aims to attend Oberlin.
The play’s socioeconomic themes and apt — if not exactly subtle — perspective on women’s domestic burdens entwine with the often superb comedy. In his more uproarious moments as Joey, King makes hay with doughnut consumption: Joey doesn’t so much eat a doughnut as nibble and gum it, lick its glaze, scatter its crumbs and revolve it stickily as if hoping the taste will be better on the other side.
His snacking habits, needless to say, make a mess — which the women clean up.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/theater-dance/2023/04/18/jennifer-leaving-play-round-house/
Stepping Into The Spotlight
A Sound Creator
Campus Connection
UW-La Crosse - Rada Distinguished Alumni Award 2022
Justin Schmitz is a fast-rising star in theatrical hotbed of D.C.Editor’s note: This is the second of a series of five articles introducing recipients of the UWL Alumni Association’s Distinguished Alumni Awards.
He’s impressive with his creative, cutting-edge sound design for theater. In fact, he’s so creative that he’s even making waves with those who are deaf, allowing them to experience and enjoy audible theatrics in new, bold ways.
Justin Schmitz, who started his early theatrical profession fine-tuning sound on the stage of UW-La Crosse’s Toland Theatre, has taken his talents to Washington, D.C., the country’s second largest theater city.
David Kilpatrick, director of education programs and productions for D.C.’s John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, says Schmitz stands out for his distinction in sound design, as well as his fearless and collaborative exploration of how sound design affects audiences and storytelling. He says Schmitz’s bridge-building savviness is helping him shape what’s ahead for the creative theater field.
“He has emerged as a young leader on a national scale in theatrical sound design,” notes Kilpatrick. “He is one with the right mix of professionalism and intelligence to make a difference in shaping the field’s future.”
Schmitz is also known for his innovative and heartfelt work with the theater and dance program at Washington, D.C.’s Gallaudet University.
Ethan Sinnott, professor and director of the program, says Gallaudet is fortunate to have Schmitz, whom he calls a fast-rising star in the theatrical hotbed of D.C., be so supportive of its programming. He appreciates Schmitz’s keen interest in developing strategies to synthesize sound design for deaf theater. “As an artistic collaborator, Mr. Schmitz has always exhibited a sensitivity to the deaf-oriented nature of Gallaudet and its community in his pursuit of the seemingly paradoxical challenge of designing sound for deaf theatre,” explains Sinnott.
As a freelance sound designer and composer, Schmitz has earned numerous awards. He takes his craft to numerous theater projects in many states.
Rada Distinguished Alumni Award
Recognizes alumni who have graduated within the last 20 years, achieved professional distinction and taken part in humanitarian activities. Professor emeritus Ron Rada and his wife, Jane, created the award in 2002.
https://www.uwlax.edu/news/posts/a-sound-creator/?utm_source=Campus%20Connection%202022-05-02&utm_medium=Email&utm_campaign=Campus%20Connection&ConnectionDate=2022-05-02
He’s impressive with his creative, cutting-edge sound design for theater. In fact, he’s so creative that he’s even making waves with those who are deaf, allowing them to experience and enjoy audible theatrics in new, bold ways.
Justin Schmitz, who started his early theatrical profession fine-tuning sound on the stage of UW-La Crosse’s Toland Theatre, has taken his talents to Washington, D.C., the country’s second largest theater city.
David Kilpatrick, director of education programs and productions for D.C.’s John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, says Schmitz stands out for his distinction in sound design, as well as his fearless and collaborative exploration of how sound design affects audiences and storytelling. He says Schmitz’s bridge-building savviness is helping him shape what’s ahead for the creative theater field.
“He has emerged as a young leader on a national scale in theatrical sound design,” notes Kilpatrick. “He is one with the right mix of professionalism and intelligence to make a difference in shaping the field’s future.”
Schmitz is also known for his innovative and heartfelt work with the theater and dance program at Washington, D.C.’s Gallaudet University.
Ethan Sinnott, professor and director of the program, says Gallaudet is fortunate to have Schmitz, whom he calls a fast-rising star in the theatrical hotbed of D.C., be so supportive of its programming. He appreciates Schmitz’s keen interest in developing strategies to synthesize sound design for deaf theater. “As an artistic collaborator, Mr. Schmitz has always exhibited a sensitivity to the deaf-oriented nature of Gallaudet and its community in his pursuit of the seemingly paradoxical challenge of designing sound for deaf theatre,” explains Sinnott.
As a freelance sound designer and composer, Schmitz has earned numerous awards. He takes his craft to numerous theater projects in many states.
Rada Distinguished Alumni Award
Recognizes alumni who have graduated within the last 20 years, achieved professional distinction and taken part in humanitarian activities. Professor emeritus Ron Rada and his wife, Jane, created the award in 2002.
https://www.uwlax.edu/news/posts/a-sound-creator/?utm_source=Campus%20Connection%202022-05-02&utm_medium=Email&utm_campaign=Campus%20Connection&ConnectionDate=2022-05-02
Review: “Anything Goes” at City Springs Theatre
is a familiar yet fun voyage
artsatl.org
LUKE EVANS
SEPTEMBER 13, 2022
It’s lights up, tap shoes on and diaphragms set for belting at the Byers Theatre as City Springs Theatre Company takes audiences on a riotous trip across the Atlantic in Cole Porter’s classic Anything Goes (through September 25). The 1934 musical tells the story of a group of passengers on the S.S. American as they find themselves entangled in a web of romance, false identities and high-seas hijinks.
In the capable hands of director and choreographer Sara Edwards, this show hits nearly all the right notes. Taking inspiration from the acclaimed 2011 Broadway revival, Edwards crafts a production that is funny, engaging and sure to put a smile on audience faces. Her choreography is a major asset in helping the show take flight, injecting such numbers as “You’re the Top,” “Anything Goes,” “Blow, Gabriel, Blow” and “Buddy Beware” with such an undeniable verve and swagger that it will be difficult for viewers not to find themselves bouncing along in their seats.
Of course, pacing is key with a show like Anything Goes, and the top-notch cast keeps the wheels rolling with aplomb. Mamie Parris earns standing ovations as Reno Sweeney, commanding the stage from her first entrance and holding it tighter than Reno holds her martinis. Like other actresses who have taken on the role of Reno since Sutton Foster earned a Tony for her performance in 2011, Parris faces high expectations. Fortunately, while the spirit of Foster’s Reno is clearly with her, she imbues the character with enough of her own sultry vitality to avoid mimicking Foster’s performance or any other; her Reno is her own.
Parris receives worthy competition from Billy Harrigan Tighe, whose performance as Billy Crocker is one of the high points of the show. The character of Billy is arguably just as essential to the show as Reno, since it’s his star-crossed romance with debutante Hope Harcourt that drives much of the plot. Therefore, much of the audience’s emotional engagement is based on how swoonworthy Billy is, and Tighe is more than up to this challenge, perfectly capturing Billy’s roguish charm. Tighe also has a natural gift for movement, which adds to his charisma — even when he’s not dancing, he incorporates lithe athleticism into Billy’s blocking, making for a winning and magnetic performance.
The rest of the cast is mostly excellent as well. Jamie LaVerdiere is a sprightly delight as the wide-eyed Evelyn Oakleigh — though someone really needs to do something about the title of his big Act II number. Atlanta legend Terry Burrell steps into the role of Mrs. Evangeline Harcourt, and she is as excellent as expected in a role that fits her like a debutante glove. Meadow Nguy sings sweetly as Hope Harcourt; Meg Gillentine tears up the stage as Erma; Kyle Robert Carter is a hammy delight as Eli Whitney; and Googie Uterhardt’s rendition of Moonface Martin’s “Be Like the Bluebird” is deserving of the laughter he receives at the end of the song.
I have just two criticisms: A few of the snappier moments of dialogue get a bit muddled, preventing some of the jokes from landing as well as they could. And Kyle Robert Carter, who stepped into the role of Eli for the Sunday performance, delivers his lines in an over-the-top fashion that, while perhaps befitting the show’s tone, makes him occasionally difficult to understand.
In terms of design, costume coordinator Paula Peasley-Ninestein is the standout. From the eye-catching dresses that adorn Reno, Hope, Erma and the rest of the female ensemble to the outlandish disguises that Billy and Moonface use to make their way around the ship, one can only imagine how much fun the actors are having with their wardrobes. However, Peasley-Ninestein’s design peers are not far behind. Steve Mitchell’s set is both functional and visually appealing. Mike Wood’s lighting ranges from atmospheric to celebratory, and Justin Schmitz gives the vocals and orchestrations a full-bodied sound that adds to the immersion.
It could be argued there is little that is subversive or original about putting on a production of Anything Goes. Everyone has done it, and it often serves as a vanity project for community theaters looking to entice a larger audience. Certainly there is fun to be had with Golden Age musicals, but there comes a point where one longs for something a little more novel.
However, “subversive” and “original” are not the goals City Springs Theatre set out for themselves. In an article published by ArtsATL this past April, artistic director and Tony Award winning actor Shuler Hensley made clear where City Springs stands with its season-planning goals: “City Springs is not necessarily trying to reinvent the wheel in terms of doing new, inventive projects … It’s more about finding those standards we all know, making these productions seem like ones people will feel like they’re seeing for the first time.”
In the hands of less capable artists, this could sound like the self-indulgent tagline of an out-of-touch community theater. However, by honoring its aspiration to provide fresh and lively iterations of classics, City Springs Theatre manages to distinguish itself through the quality of its artistry. This production of Anything Goes is proof positive that the familiar need not be tired.
If you enjoy high-octane dance numbers, soaring romantic chemistry and innuendos galore, then I see no reason not to recommend Anything Goes at City Springs Theatre Company. They may not be reinventing the wheel, but if the wheel already works, then greasing it up until it feels shiny and new will keep the vehicle running smoothly.
https://www.artsatl.org/anything-goes-at-city-springs-theatre-is-a-familiar-yet-fun-voyage/
In the capable hands of director and choreographer Sara Edwards, this show hits nearly all the right notes. Taking inspiration from the acclaimed 2011 Broadway revival, Edwards crafts a production that is funny, engaging and sure to put a smile on audience faces. Her choreography is a major asset in helping the show take flight, injecting such numbers as “You’re the Top,” “Anything Goes,” “Blow, Gabriel, Blow” and “Buddy Beware” with such an undeniable verve and swagger that it will be difficult for viewers not to find themselves bouncing along in their seats.
Of course, pacing is key with a show like Anything Goes, and the top-notch cast keeps the wheels rolling with aplomb. Mamie Parris earns standing ovations as Reno Sweeney, commanding the stage from her first entrance and holding it tighter than Reno holds her martinis. Like other actresses who have taken on the role of Reno since Sutton Foster earned a Tony for her performance in 2011, Parris faces high expectations. Fortunately, while the spirit of Foster’s Reno is clearly with her, she imbues the character with enough of her own sultry vitality to avoid mimicking Foster’s performance or any other; her Reno is her own.
Parris receives worthy competition from Billy Harrigan Tighe, whose performance as Billy Crocker is one of the high points of the show. The character of Billy is arguably just as essential to the show as Reno, since it’s his star-crossed romance with debutante Hope Harcourt that drives much of the plot. Therefore, much of the audience’s emotional engagement is based on how swoonworthy Billy is, and Tighe is more than up to this challenge, perfectly capturing Billy’s roguish charm. Tighe also has a natural gift for movement, which adds to his charisma — even when he’s not dancing, he incorporates lithe athleticism into Billy’s blocking, making for a winning and magnetic performance.
The rest of the cast is mostly excellent as well. Jamie LaVerdiere is a sprightly delight as the wide-eyed Evelyn Oakleigh — though someone really needs to do something about the title of his big Act II number. Atlanta legend Terry Burrell steps into the role of Mrs. Evangeline Harcourt, and she is as excellent as expected in a role that fits her like a debutante glove. Meadow Nguy sings sweetly as Hope Harcourt; Meg Gillentine tears up the stage as Erma; Kyle Robert Carter is a hammy delight as Eli Whitney; and Googie Uterhardt’s rendition of Moonface Martin’s “Be Like the Bluebird” is deserving of the laughter he receives at the end of the song.
I have just two criticisms: A few of the snappier moments of dialogue get a bit muddled, preventing some of the jokes from landing as well as they could. And Kyle Robert Carter, who stepped into the role of Eli for the Sunday performance, delivers his lines in an over-the-top fashion that, while perhaps befitting the show’s tone, makes him occasionally difficult to understand.
In terms of design, costume coordinator Paula Peasley-Ninestein is the standout. From the eye-catching dresses that adorn Reno, Hope, Erma and the rest of the female ensemble to the outlandish disguises that Billy and Moonface use to make their way around the ship, one can only imagine how much fun the actors are having with their wardrobes. However, Peasley-Ninestein’s design peers are not far behind. Steve Mitchell’s set is both functional and visually appealing. Mike Wood’s lighting ranges from atmospheric to celebratory, and Justin Schmitz gives the vocals and orchestrations a full-bodied sound that adds to the immersion.
It could be argued there is little that is subversive or original about putting on a production of Anything Goes. Everyone has done it, and it often serves as a vanity project for community theaters looking to entice a larger audience. Certainly there is fun to be had with Golden Age musicals, but there comes a point where one longs for something a little more novel.
However, “subversive” and “original” are not the goals City Springs Theatre set out for themselves. In an article published by ArtsATL this past April, artistic director and Tony Award winning actor Shuler Hensley made clear where City Springs stands with its season-planning goals: “City Springs is not necessarily trying to reinvent the wheel in terms of doing new, inventive projects … It’s more about finding those standards we all know, making these productions seem like ones people will feel like they’re seeing for the first time.”
In the hands of less capable artists, this could sound like the self-indulgent tagline of an out-of-touch community theater. However, by honoring its aspiration to provide fresh and lively iterations of classics, City Springs Theatre manages to distinguish itself through the quality of its artistry. This production of Anything Goes is proof positive that the familiar need not be tired.
If you enjoy high-octane dance numbers, soaring romantic chemistry and innuendos galore, then I see no reason not to recommend Anything Goes at City Springs Theatre Company. They may not be reinventing the wheel, but if the wheel already works, then greasing it up until it feels shiny and new will keep the vehicle running smoothly.
https://www.artsatl.org/anything-goes-at-city-springs-theatre-is-a-familiar-yet-fun-voyage/
Review: City Springs ANYTHING GOES
is Musical Theater Perfection
Speakeysie
by Jody Tuso-Key
9/10/22
Theatre patrons were treated to the much-anticipated start of City Springs Theatre’s season with the opening night of ANYTHING GOES. This classic by Cole Porter is a high-energy romp on the seas complete with side-splitting one-liners, several subplots, and show-stopping musical numbers. In this humble reviewer’s opinion, this is the best show I’ve seen at City Springs. The company seems to outdo itself with each show, and this show was packed with talent, from the director and crew to the cast, almost everyone has Broadway credits on their resume.
Anything Goes is set on an ocean liner traveling from New York to London. The hero of the story, Billy Crocker (Billy Tighe), has his heart set on debutante Hope Harcourt (Meadow Nguy). He stows away on the ship Hope is embarking on with her fiance, Lord Evelyn Oakleigh (Jamie LaVerdiere). Billy attempts to win Hope’s heart with the help of nightclub singer turned evangelist Reno Sweeny (Mamie Parris) and “Public Enemy Number 13” Moonface Martin (Googie Uterhardt).
The show made its debut in 1934 in what is now known at the Neil Simon theater. It includes such well known songs as I Get a Kick out of You, You’re the Top, Friendship, It’s De-lovely, and of course, Anything Goes. ANYTHING GOES stands the test of time and is still a crowd favorite. Four versions of the script exist, and City Springs chose the 1987 revival, originally produced by Lincoln Center Theater.
Director/Choreographer Sara Edwards was a perfect choice, having just come fresh from THE MUSIC MAN on Broadway as assistant choreographer. Her choreo work is intricate and highly entertaining. The case tackled every complicated dance number with expert precision. Scenic designer Steven K Mitchell imagined a set that enables the audience to feel as if they are observers on the main deck of the ship, with the orchestra in nautical uniform, led by conductor and music director Miles Plant sitting atop the weather deck. The lighting design by Mike Wood and sound design by Justin Schmitz add the appropriate colors, textures, and emotions to each scene. Costume designer Martin Pakledinaz deserves a special BRAVO!! I loved every costume choice and the breathtaking fit and flow of each dress as well as the meticulously tailored suits, tuxedoes, and sailor costumes were evidently a product of hard work and attention to detail. The production crew painted a lovely canvas filled in by spectacular performances.
The performances were indeed spectacular. Leading Lady Mamie Parris brought all the energy needed for the role of Reno Sweeney with amazing vocals, acting, and dancing. Billy Tighe was the perfect choice for Billy Crocker and played the stockbroker turned ship stowaway, master of disguise, and pseudo-public enemy #1 with the comedic timing, smooth vocals, and seemingly effortless dancing that the role requires. Meadow Nguy as debutante Hope Harcourt showcased a beautiful soprano voice and equally beautiful dancing skills. Googie Uterherdt had the audience in stitches with his impeccable comedic timing as gangster Moonface Martin. It was good to see him on the Sandy Springs stage once again. Other notable performances include Jamie LaVerdiere as Lord Evelyn Oakleigh, Meg Gillentine as Emma, and Atlanta’s own favorites Kevin Harry as Elisha J Whitney and Terry Burrell as Mrs. Evangeline Harcourt. The ensemble was also impressive in every song and dance number.
ANYTHING GOES is musical theater perfection and is Speakeysie Highly Recommended.
https://speakeysie.com/2022/09/13/review-city-springs-anything-goes-is-musical-theater-perfection/
Anything Goes is set on an ocean liner traveling from New York to London. The hero of the story, Billy Crocker (Billy Tighe), has his heart set on debutante Hope Harcourt (Meadow Nguy). He stows away on the ship Hope is embarking on with her fiance, Lord Evelyn Oakleigh (Jamie LaVerdiere). Billy attempts to win Hope’s heart with the help of nightclub singer turned evangelist Reno Sweeny (Mamie Parris) and “Public Enemy Number 13” Moonface Martin (Googie Uterhardt).
The show made its debut in 1934 in what is now known at the Neil Simon theater. It includes such well known songs as I Get a Kick out of You, You’re the Top, Friendship, It’s De-lovely, and of course, Anything Goes. ANYTHING GOES stands the test of time and is still a crowd favorite. Four versions of the script exist, and City Springs chose the 1987 revival, originally produced by Lincoln Center Theater.
Director/Choreographer Sara Edwards was a perfect choice, having just come fresh from THE MUSIC MAN on Broadway as assistant choreographer. Her choreo work is intricate and highly entertaining. The case tackled every complicated dance number with expert precision. Scenic designer Steven K Mitchell imagined a set that enables the audience to feel as if they are observers on the main deck of the ship, with the orchestra in nautical uniform, led by conductor and music director Miles Plant sitting atop the weather deck. The lighting design by Mike Wood and sound design by Justin Schmitz add the appropriate colors, textures, and emotions to each scene. Costume designer Martin Pakledinaz deserves a special BRAVO!! I loved every costume choice and the breathtaking fit and flow of each dress as well as the meticulously tailored suits, tuxedoes, and sailor costumes were evidently a product of hard work and attention to detail. The production crew painted a lovely canvas filled in by spectacular performances.
The performances were indeed spectacular. Leading Lady Mamie Parris brought all the energy needed for the role of Reno Sweeney with amazing vocals, acting, and dancing. Billy Tighe was the perfect choice for Billy Crocker and played the stockbroker turned ship stowaway, master of disguise, and pseudo-public enemy #1 with the comedic timing, smooth vocals, and seemingly effortless dancing that the role requires. Meadow Nguy as debutante Hope Harcourt showcased a beautiful soprano voice and equally beautiful dancing skills. Googie Uterherdt had the audience in stitches with his impeccable comedic timing as gangster Moonface Martin. It was good to see him on the Sandy Springs stage once again. Other notable performances include Jamie LaVerdiere as Lord Evelyn Oakleigh, Meg Gillentine as Emma, and Atlanta’s own favorites Kevin Harry as Elisha J Whitney and Terry Burrell as Mrs. Evangeline Harcourt. The ensemble was also impressive in every song and dance number.
ANYTHING GOES is musical theater perfection and is Speakeysie Highly Recommended.
https://speakeysie.com/2022/09/13/review-city-springs-anything-goes-is-musical-theater-perfection/
NextStop’s free outdoor
‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’
delights and satisfies
By William Powell
Apr. 30, 2022
Playing out beneath the spring night stars, this show was magical. NextStop Theatre‘s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, directed by Christopher Michael Richardson, was a lightning-paced crowd-pleaser, full of laughs, merriment, and cheer. This particular NextStop production was the inaugural Theater in the Park presentation by Reston Community Center and Reston Town Center Association.
The play featured four couples, in various states of love and discord: Hermia and Lysander; Helena and Demetrius; Oberon and Titania; and the Duke of Athens and Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons.
As Theseus, Duke of Athens prepared to marry Hippolyta, an old man, Egeus, came to court and complained that his daughter Hermia had fallen in love with Lysander. The Duke then ordered Hermia to obey her father and marry another man, Demetrius, under penalty of death. Hermia and Lysander escaped to the country woods, with Helena, Hermia’s friend, and Demetrius in pursuit. As was his custom, Shakespeare added a few more mirrored, subplots — and mistaken identities — on top of all this.
Shakespeare reportedly based A Midsummer Night’s Dream on The Menaechmus Twins by the Roman playwright Plautus. It’s the story of two twin brothers, Menaechmus and Sosicles, who are separated at age seven and spend years before they are reunited. He also wrote the tragedy Romeo and Juliet about the same time as Dream. But because A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a comedy, the lovers fare better against the obstacles to their love. Unlike the doomed Romeo and Juliet, these characters, with a little help from magic, somehow make concord out of chaos.
There are many serious themes in this comedy: Fathers seeking control over daughters (Shakespeare had two daughters); men controlling women; city vs. country values, and same-sex friendships vs. heterosexual love. This show must have a good Bottom, Nick Bottom that is. Representing the so-called bottom of society, Bottom was an actor in a play-within-the-play, Pyramus and Thisbe, who figuratively and later literally (due to magic) became an ass. More shades of Romeo and Juliet here: Pyramus and Thisbe were two lovers from the city of Babylon who occupied connected houses.
Michael Burgos’s performance as Bottom was explosively good. This actor, also a prolific children’s play author, played the notes of the character to perfection. His physical comedy and comic timing electrified the crowd. Dr. Devin Nikki Thomas, a new adjunct professor at Bowie State University, was brash and authoritative in her regal roles of Theseus and Oberon. Director Richardson made an interesting choice to play up Shakespeare’s same-sex themes: He had the excellent and lovely Nicole Ruthmarie play Hippolyta and Titania, the latter being the fairy queen of fairy king Oberon, thus both regal couples were female/female. Stephen Kime brought verve to his dual roles of Demetrius and the commoner Starveling. Kellan Oelkers had convincing interactions with Dion Denisse Peñaflor, in her outstanding NextStop debut as Hermia. Oelkers also played the funniest wall (in the play-within-the-play) I’ve seen. Close to Burgos in sheer vigor and stage presence was Isabella Lash as Helena. Lash, in her NextStop debut, had many electric scenes with Kime and Oelkers. NextStop veteran Carolyn Kashner’s Puck was fun to watch. She even got to perform a rap song. Charli Simone’s Peter Quince, a hapless director-within-the-play, played her character neither too farcical nor too understated.
I was confused about the costume design scheme of the show. Many of the male characters were dressed as if at an affluent beach party — Hawaiian shirts and khakis for instance. But the fairies and regal characters were dressed in resplendent purple outfits, including Thomas’s arched-shoulder dress. Burgos got to wear a translucent, purple Donkey head. Costume Designer Alexa Duimstra did a great job there. Richardson made another interesting choice to have Oberon/Titania (Thomas/Ruthmarie) change costumes on stage into Theseus/Hippolyta.
The sound design included a lot of background and mood music to keep the energy flowing through the show. Justin Schmitz did the show a great service with that design.
Sarah Beth Hall’s scenic design consisted of a white tent and a concrete park structure dressed with green leaves that evoked a forest. Hall succeeded in dressing a park in the middle of a commercial zone.
This show will leave you with a sense of magic and wonder. Bottom’s titular dream was called so because it had no bottom. There is no bottom to the fun you’ll have at this show.
The play featured four couples, in various states of love and discord: Hermia and Lysander; Helena and Demetrius; Oberon and Titania; and the Duke of Athens and Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons.
As Theseus, Duke of Athens prepared to marry Hippolyta, an old man, Egeus, came to court and complained that his daughter Hermia had fallen in love with Lysander. The Duke then ordered Hermia to obey her father and marry another man, Demetrius, under penalty of death. Hermia and Lysander escaped to the country woods, with Helena, Hermia’s friend, and Demetrius in pursuit. As was his custom, Shakespeare added a few more mirrored, subplots — and mistaken identities — on top of all this.
Shakespeare reportedly based A Midsummer Night’s Dream on The Menaechmus Twins by the Roman playwright Plautus. It’s the story of two twin brothers, Menaechmus and Sosicles, who are separated at age seven and spend years before they are reunited. He also wrote the tragedy Romeo and Juliet about the same time as Dream. But because A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a comedy, the lovers fare better against the obstacles to their love. Unlike the doomed Romeo and Juliet, these characters, with a little help from magic, somehow make concord out of chaos.
There are many serious themes in this comedy: Fathers seeking control over daughters (Shakespeare had two daughters); men controlling women; city vs. country values, and same-sex friendships vs. heterosexual love. This show must have a good Bottom, Nick Bottom that is. Representing the so-called bottom of society, Bottom was an actor in a play-within-the-play, Pyramus and Thisbe, who figuratively and later literally (due to magic) became an ass. More shades of Romeo and Juliet here: Pyramus and Thisbe were two lovers from the city of Babylon who occupied connected houses.
Michael Burgos’s performance as Bottom was explosively good. This actor, also a prolific children’s play author, played the notes of the character to perfection. His physical comedy and comic timing electrified the crowd. Dr. Devin Nikki Thomas, a new adjunct professor at Bowie State University, was brash and authoritative in her regal roles of Theseus and Oberon. Director Richardson made an interesting choice to play up Shakespeare’s same-sex themes: He had the excellent and lovely Nicole Ruthmarie play Hippolyta and Titania, the latter being the fairy queen of fairy king Oberon, thus both regal couples were female/female. Stephen Kime brought verve to his dual roles of Demetrius and the commoner Starveling. Kellan Oelkers had convincing interactions with Dion Denisse Peñaflor, in her outstanding NextStop debut as Hermia. Oelkers also played the funniest wall (in the play-within-the-play) I’ve seen. Close to Burgos in sheer vigor and stage presence was Isabella Lash as Helena. Lash, in her NextStop debut, had many electric scenes with Kime and Oelkers. NextStop veteran Carolyn Kashner’s Puck was fun to watch. She even got to perform a rap song. Charli Simone’s Peter Quince, a hapless director-within-the-play, played her character neither too farcical nor too understated.
I was confused about the costume design scheme of the show. Many of the male characters were dressed as if at an affluent beach party — Hawaiian shirts and khakis for instance. But the fairies and regal characters were dressed in resplendent purple outfits, including Thomas’s arched-shoulder dress. Burgos got to wear a translucent, purple Donkey head. Costume Designer Alexa Duimstra did a great job there. Richardson made another interesting choice to have Oberon/Titania (Thomas/Ruthmarie) change costumes on stage into Theseus/Hippolyta.
The sound design included a lot of background and mood music to keep the energy flowing through the show. Justin Schmitz did the show a great service with that design.
Sarah Beth Hall’s scenic design consisted of a white tent and a concrete park structure dressed with green leaves that evoked a forest. Hall succeeded in dressing a park in the middle of a commercial zone.
This show will leave you with a sense of magic and wonder. Bottom’s titular dream was called so because it had no bottom. There is no bottom to the fun you’ll have at this show.
BWW Review: THUMBELINA at Imagination Stage
by Jane Horwitz
Feb. 19, 2020
We may live in a high-tech age, but little ones still love to draw and make stuff with paper, paste and crayons. And that low-tech delight is exactly what fuels Thumbelina at Imagination Stage, with its interweaving of hand and shadow puppets, paper cut-outs, hand-drawn animation and real actors.
Kids can see how it all gets done -- as if the wizard behind the curtain held an open house. They also get to see a very teeny-tiny person take charge of her life.
During a pretty fascinating, if longish, introductory stretch, cast members (and perhaps one or two crew?) sit at small tables on either side of the stage and start to tell the story with the help of a Narrator (Jonathan Atkinson). There, in full view of the audience, they operate paper puppets, or waft cut-outs of leaves or snow flakes in front of tiny video cameras on tripods. The cameras project all these bits and pieces onto screens at center stage. Chapter headings appear there, too.
It's an ingenious way to begin re-imagining Hans Christian Andersen's 1835 fairy tale. The whole stage, including those tables and tripods, is subtly bedecked in woodsy things -- vines, leaves, pale flowers, some of it in frames that recall old storybook illustrations. (The scenic design is by Nate Sinnott.) The Narrator even wears an amusing cutaway coat in a nod to Andersen's era. (The whimsical costumes are the work of Madison Booth.)
This mind behind this world premiere multi-media Thumbelina is Georgetown University Associate Professor of Theater and Performance, Natsu Onoda Power, who wrote, directed and illustrated the production. She has gifted DC area audiences for nearly a decade with eye-popping scenic designs, sometimes inspired by Japanese manga comics and anime (animation), as in Imagination Stage's terrific Anime Momotaro in 2013, or in Studio Theatre's Astro Boy and the God of Comics in 2012, which she both created and staged. More recently, Power won two Helen Hayes Awards for her 2018 adaptation and design of The Lathe of Heaven produced by Spooky Action Theater and Georgetown.
In Power's Thumbelina, the tiny title character (a sparkling Unissa Cruse) is still half the size of a human thumb, but she has a very big voice when she needs it and a mind of her own. As in Andersen's tale, she appears inside a flower -- a miracle child given by a woodland fairy to a childless old woman. But this Thumbelina grows up yearning to see the world and meet others like herself. She blows up at her kind adoptive mom in a rebellious outburst: "Everything you do is wrong and everything in this house is wrong...just too big!" The confrontation unfolds with Thumbelina's human-size mother projected hugely onto that large center screen, while Thumbelina is on the stage in front of it, looking tiny.
And just when you start to think the projections and puppetry coming from those side tables and cameras could begin to get old, the action bursts full-size onto the stage, though the puppetry and animation never go away.
Thumbelina runs off with the help of a swallow who flies her on his back. But she falls off and splashes into a pond, encountering a bespectacled toad as friendless as she. Thereafter she meets a buzzy bevy of maybugs, a generous field mouse and a self-important, rather nasty mole. Thumbelina's minuteness ensures that fate and nature will buffet her as in the old tale, towards her happy ending. But this time, with her giant voice and her confidence, the tiny girl takes a stronger hand in how it all unfolds. Oh, and the creatures in the old story who insist that Thumbelina must marry them make no such demands here.
Apart from Cruse in the title role, four actors (Atkinson, Melissa Carter, Ines Dominguez del Corral and Gary L. Perkins III) play all the other parts and do the puppetry and more. They seem to have a fine time making it all mesh. Even the sound design (by Justin Schmitz) has pizzazz. I could have sworn I heard a dash of bebop at one point.
Kids can see how it all gets done -- as if the wizard behind the curtain held an open house. They also get to see a very teeny-tiny person take charge of her life.
During a pretty fascinating, if longish, introductory stretch, cast members (and perhaps one or two crew?) sit at small tables on either side of the stage and start to tell the story with the help of a Narrator (Jonathan Atkinson). There, in full view of the audience, they operate paper puppets, or waft cut-outs of leaves or snow flakes in front of tiny video cameras on tripods. The cameras project all these bits and pieces onto screens at center stage. Chapter headings appear there, too.
It's an ingenious way to begin re-imagining Hans Christian Andersen's 1835 fairy tale. The whole stage, including those tables and tripods, is subtly bedecked in woodsy things -- vines, leaves, pale flowers, some of it in frames that recall old storybook illustrations. (The scenic design is by Nate Sinnott.) The Narrator even wears an amusing cutaway coat in a nod to Andersen's era. (The whimsical costumes are the work of Madison Booth.)
This mind behind this world premiere multi-media Thumbelina is Georgetown University Associate Professor of Theater and Performance, Natsu Onoda Power, who wrote, directed and illustrated the production. She has gifted DC area audiences for nearly a decade with eye-popping scenic designs, sometimes inspired by Japanese manga comics and anime (animation), as in Imagination Stage's terrific Anime Momotaro in 2013, or in Studio Theatre's Astro Boy and the God of Comics in 2012, which she both created and staged. More recently, Power won two Helen Hayes Awards for her 2018 adaptation and design of The Lathe of Heaven produced by Spooky Action Theater and Georgetown.
In Power's Thumbelina, the tiny title character (a sparkling Unissa Cruse) is still half the size of a human thumb, but she has a very big voice when she needs it and a mind of her own. As in Andersen's tale, she appears inside a flower -- a miracle child given by a woodland fairy to a childless old woman. But this Thumbelina grows up yearning to see the world and meet others like herself. She blows up at her kind adoptive mom in a rebellious outburst: "Everything you do is wrong and everything in this house is wrong...just too big!" The confrontation unfolds with Thumbelina's human-size mother projected hugely onto that large center screen, while Thumbelina is on the stage in front of it, looking tiny.
And just when you start to think the projections and puppetry coming from those side tables and cameras could begin to get old, the action bursts full-size onto the stage, though the puppetry and animation never go away.
Thumbelina runs off with the help of a swallow who flies her on his back. But she falls off and splashes into a pond, encountering a bespectacled toad as friendless as she. Thereafter she meets a buzzy bevy of maybugs, a generous field mouse and a self-important, rather nasty mole. Thumbelina's minuteness ensures that fate and nature will buffet her as in the old tale, towards her happy ending. But this time, with her giant voice and her confidence, the tiny girl takes a stronger hand in how it all unfolds. Oh, and the creatures in the old story who insist that Thumbelina must marry them make no such demands here.
Apart from Cruse in the title role, four actors (Atkinson, Melissa Carter, Ines Dominguez del Corral and Gary L. Perkins III) play all the other parts and do the puppetry and more. They seem to have a fine time making it all mesh. Even the sound design (by Justin Schmitz) has pizzazz. I could have sworn I heard a dash of bebop at one point.
Review: Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! (The Musical!).
Perfection and the scene stealers keep coming.
by Christopher Henley
November 26, 2019
If you think you hear the gloriously ingenious cackling of delighted children, it may be emanating from the Family Theater at The Kennedy Center. If it is mixed with some lower-pitched guffaws, those may be coming from the same place, emanating from the adults who have accompanied kids to the world premiere musical Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! (The Musical!) This is one of those productions whose every element feels absolutely perfect; and they all seem to fit together perfectly. That they do is a tribute to the show’s director, Jerry Whiddon (who for many years led Round House Theatre in neighboring Montgomery County, Maryland).
The piece that Whiddon and co are birthing and passing into the canon of work aimed at young audiences is based on the book of the same name by the wonderful (and wonderfully prolific) Mo Willems.
A number of his books are in high rotation when it’s time for me to read with my seven year-old twins. (Willems has now become the first Education Artist-in-Residence at Kennedy Center. Willems has adapted his book along with the mysteriously named Mr. Warburton. Adapting this for the stage, Messrs Willems and Warburton face the opposite problem to the one faced by those who bring works by, say, Dickens or Austin to the stage. A Willems book can be read in about ten minutes, so here they must expand the material, as opposed to streamlining it.
Musical numbers help, and the score (music by Deborah Wicks La Puma) is a cut above the forgettable filler that you often encounter in stage adaptations of children’s lit. Two songs into the show, Felicia Curry (she plays the bus driver whose seat the titular pigeon aspires to fill) is stopping the show with her introductory turn. Throughout, Curry brings wit and panache to the proceedings; and choreographer Jessica Hartman sees to it that Curry (and all of the cast) move stylishly. (Curry, it should be noted, pulled a Cynthia Nixon this weekend: she was in this show by day while doing Agnes of God at Factory 449 by night. That song is soon followed by Christopher Michael Richardson (he’s the bird) employing the deepest end of his register wonderfully in what I took to be a cheeky pastiche of the kind of soulful ballad that recalls mega-musicals in the vein of Les Miz. Richardson also gives Pigeon a sweetness that is quite poignant.
Watching this cast is like watching a convocation of expert thieves; they each keep stealing the show from one another. Each cameo role is so sharp and clear and distinct that you could be forgiven for being surprised at curtain call that the cast numbers a mere six. (Jeannette Christensen, Costume Designer, executes some astonishing quick-changes.) Is the guy who plays the superhero movie-loving nerd, freaked at the prospect of being late to a screening, really the same guy who plays the transportation worker bringing on various signs? Yes, he is. (That’s Hasani Allen.) Evan Casey milks every nuance out of mere moments as a hot-dog vendor, and returns soon after to play the uptight dot.comer hoping to hop the bus.
Tracy Lynn Olivera has but one role to nail, which seems, on one level, a waste but, on another, a treat to have her superb gifts applied to a third bus passenger, called Little Old Lady. Olivera, Casey, and Allen, splendid throughout, shine in particular during the “Panic” number, when they realize that the stranded bus puts them all at risk of being late. (That “Panic” number is among the motifs that will connect to the post-puberty audience more than to the those who are blissfully less obsessed with timetables, punctuality, and the need to feel as if every second of life is being efficiently employed.) To return to the cast (last but not least!), Erika Rose is simply astounding as she animates the bus engine and then seems to age decades to become the mother of the bus driver. She also is the dog manipulator, one of several expressively-employed puppets. (Puppet Direction is credited to Scottie Rowell, Puppet Fabrication to Carole D’Agostino.) Those puppets also include, of course, the pigeon.
In fact, there are a couple of moments, such as the consumption of hot dogs, that are really quite magical. Where did that big prop disappear to? (Willow Watson is Properties Artisan.) Were those successive, clearly-delivered burps actor-generated, or part of a particularly impressive sound design (by Justin Schmitz)?
The handsome set by Dan Conway accommodates a bus; ladders for actors to climb, surprisingly; and Laugh-In style mini-doors that pop open. (My feeling that this was intentional homage paid to Laugh-In was validated when I heard the line, “You bet your sweet bippy.”) The overall design is so impressive that even the lighting design (by Sarah Tundermann) triggers a laugh.
Laugh-In isn’t the only pop-culture reference that parents and kids’ companions will enjoy. (Did I hear a reference — age-appropriate — to Midnight Cowboy?) And the reliability of public transportation isn’t the only adult-level insight you will hear delivered during this show. (I certainly did hear Oliveri’s pithy line about how quickly children grow up.) The Willems books (I, as a parent, can attest) are invaluable as tools to help young readers. The themes are, generally, gentle prods intended to socialize children toward empathy and self-realization. In this case, the theme encourages us to find, and then to do, our own thing. As literature, the book encourages reading. As theater, this show will now encourage a love of the lively arts, because I believe that kids who see it will want to see more live performance.
So, maybe a pigeon shouldn’t drive a bus, but Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! (The Musical!) is definitely worth catching.
The piece that Whiddon and co are birthing and passing into the canon of work aimed at young audiences is based on the book of the same name by the wonderful (and wonderfully prolific) Mo Willems.
A number of his books are in high rotation when it’s time for me to read with my seven year-old twins. (Willems has now become the first Education Artist-in-Residence at Kennedy Center. Willems has adapted his book along with the mysteriously named Mr. Warburton. Adapting this for the stage, Messrs Willems and Warburton face the opposite problem to the one faced by those who bring works by, say, Dickens or Austin to the stage. A Willems book can be read in about ten minutes, so here they must expand the material, as opposed to streamlining it.
Musical numbers help, and the score (music by Deborah Wicks La Puma) is a cut above the forgettable filler that you often encounter in stage adaptations of children’s lit. Two songs into the show, Felicia Curry (she plays the bus driver whose seat the titular pigeon aspires to fill) is stopping the show with her introductory turn. Throughout, Curry brings wit and panache to the proceedings; and choreographer Jessica Hartman sees to it that Curry (and all of the cast) move stylishly. (Curry, it should be noted, pulled a Cynthia Nixon this weekend: she was in this show by day while doing Agnes of God at Factory 449 by night. That song is soon followed by Christopher Michael Richardson (he’s the bird) employing the deepest end of his register wonderfully in what I took to be a cheeky pastiche of the kind of soulful ballad that recalls mega-musicals in the vein of Les Miz. Richardson also gives Pigeon a sweetness that is quite poignant.
Watching this cast is like watching a convocation of expert thieves; they each keep stealing the show from one another. Each cameo role is so sharp and clear and distinct that you could be forgiven for being surprised at curtain call that the cast numbers a mere six. (Jeannette Christensen, Costume Designer, executes some astonishing quick-changes.) Is the guy who plays the superhero movie-loving nerd, freaked at the prospect of being late to a screening, really the same guy who plays the transportation worker bringing on various signs? Yes, he is. (That’s Hasani Allen.) Evan Casey milks every nuance out of mere moments as a hot-dog vendor, and returns soon after to play the uptight dot.comer hoping to hop the bus.
Tracy Lynn Olivera has but one role to nail, which seems, on one level, a waste but, on another, a treat to have her superb gifts applied to a third bus passenger, called Little Old Lady. Olivera, Casey, and Allen, splendid throughout, shine in particular during the “Panic” number, when they realize that the stranded bus puts them all at risk of being late. (That “Panic” number is among the motifs that will connect to the post-puberty audience more than to the those who are blissfully less obsessed with timetables, punctuality, and the need to feel as if every second of life is being efficiently employed.) To return to the cast (last but not least!), Erika Rose is simply astounding as she animates the bus engine and then seems to age decades to become the mother of the bus driver. She also is the dog manipulator, one of several expressively-employed puppets. (Puppet Direction is credited to Scottie Rowell, Puppet Fabrication to Carole D’Agostino.) Those puppets also include, of course, the pigeon.
In fact, there are a couple of moments, such as the consumption of hot dogs, that are really quite magical. Where did that big prop disappear to? (Willow Watson is Properties Artisan.) Were those successive, clearly-delivered burps actor-generated, or part of a particularly impressive sound design (by Justin Schmitz)?
The handsome set by Dan Conway accommodates a bus; ladders for actors to climb, surprisingly; and Laugh-In style mini-doors that pop open. (My feeling that this was intentional homage paid to Laugh-In was validated when I heard the line, “You bet your sweet bippy.”) The overall design is so impressive that even the lighting design (by Sarah Tundermann) triggers a laugh.
Laugh-In isn’t the only pop-culture reference that parents and kids’ companions will enjoy. (Did I hear a reference — age-appropriate — to Midnight Cowboy?) And the reliability of public transportation isn’t the only adult-level insight you will hear delivered during this show. (I certainly did hear Oliveri’s pithy line about how quickly children grow up.) The Willems books (I, as a parent, can attest) are invaluable as tools to help young readers. The themes are, generally, gentle prods intended to socialize children toward empathy and self-realization. In this case, the theme encourages us to find, and then to do, our own thing. As literature, the book encourages reading. As theater, this show will now encourage a love of the lively arts, because I believe that kids who see it will want to see more live performance.
So, maybe a pigeon shouldn’t drive a bus, but Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! (The Musical!) is definitely worth catching.
Theatre Review: ‘A Comedy of Tenors’ at Olney Theatre Center
Posted By: Carolyn Kelemenon
April 16, 2019
Whoever said “Timing Is Everything” must appreciate Shakespeare and should value the skills of contemporary playwright Ken Ludwig whose “A Comedy of Tenors” opened without a hitch last Saturday evening at Olney Theatre Center. The mastery of seven actors maneuvering through swinging doors, in and out of hiding places, and on and off a balcony, was mind-boggling and fun to watch.
A trio of impetuous and unpredictable tenors (sometimes four, if you count the bellhop) plus three women (girlfriends, wives and lovers) and the anticipation of the “concert of the century,” produced by an anxious manager, brings about the chaos that soon unfolds. Add the discovery of hidden underwear, sexual encounters with the wrong partners, bursts of brilliant vocalizations, and lots of door slamming…well, you get the picture and a feel for this comedy. ...mind-boggling and fun to watch.
Olney director Jason King Jones has handled a cast equally skilled in silliness and Shakespeare (lots of references to the Bard’s plays) as a successor to Ludwig’s 1989 award-winning “Lend Me A Tenor.” This “Tenors” rendition reminds us to forget the current ills of our society – even for just two hours – and to laugh at the ongoing drama shaped by the operatic singers (including a Russian diva) and the hot-blooded Italian wife who starts this frenzy early in the first act.
Scenic designer Charlie Calvert created a backdrop that captures the feel of a 1930s luxury hotel suite in Paris. Think French salon with international artists, and the strains of an aria that surrounds us as the curtain opens. Moments later it’s panic time as operatic star Tito refuses to perform at the Three Tenors-like concert in a nearby soccer stadium with 100,000 patrons. And the plot thickens.
Broadway veteran John Tracey Egan makes his Olney Theatre Center debut as Tito, and what a performance he gives, first as the attention-grabbing star tenor a la Pavarotti, later as the endearing Betto, the hapless bellboy who adds his talent in the love making and the singing.
Alan Wade has a long history with Olney Theatre Center productions, going back to his 1968-69 appearance with National Players. His portrayal of the American impresario Saunders was clear and direct; he just wanted to put on the show. Vocal talent Matthew Schleigh plays Max, a “second banana” to Saunders and a warm and fuzzy friend/husband to the rest of the crew. Alan Naylor held my interest as Carlo, the rival tenor who bursts into song with vocal purity, thanks to sound designer Justin Schmitz. Seth Gilbert is noted for his costume designs, especially for Allyson Boate, as Mimi, who manages to perform acrobatic stunts in a long gown.
All three women look gorgeous in vintage attire with wigs by LaShawn Melton. Patricia Hurley as Racon, the Soviet sex kitten soprano, is draped in a gorgeous fur wrap for the finale. For the Maria character, Emily Townley, who reminds us of Penelope Cruz in one of her steamy film performances, removes her fashionable suit for a flimsy black negligee.
“Comedy of Tenors” marks the Olney return of talented behind-the-scenes artists Casey Kaleba as fight choreographer and Sonya Dowhaluk, light designer and Brianne Taylor, dialect coach, a tough job in this show with Shakespearean lines, Italian sweet talk and Cleveland jokes.
A trio of impetuous and unpredictable tenors (sometimes four, if you count the bellhop) plus three women (girlfriends, wives and lovers) and the anticipation of the “concert of the century,” produced by an anxious manager, brings about the chaos that soon unfolds. Add the discovery of hidden underwear, sexual encounters with the wrong partners, bursts of brilliant vocalizations, and lots of door slamming…well, you get the picture and a feel for this comedy. ...mind-boggling and fun to watch.
Olney director Jason King Jones has handled a cast equally skilled in silliness and Shakespeare (lots of references to the Bard’s plays) as a successor to Ludwig’s 1989 award-winning “Lend Me A Tenor.” This “Tenors” rendition reminds us to forget the current ills of our society – even for just two hours – and to laugh at the ongoing drama shaped by the operatic singers (including a Russian diva) and the hot-blooded Italian wife who starts this frenzy early in the first act.
Scenic designer Charlie Calvert created a backdrop that captures the feel of a 1930s luxury hotel suite in Paris. Think French salon with international artists, and the strains of an aria that surrounds us as the curtain opens. Moments later it’s panic time as operatic star Tito refuses to perform at the Three Tenors-like concert in a nearby soccer stadium with 100,000 patrons. And the plot thickens.
Broadway veteran John Tracey Egan makes his Olney Theatre Center debut as Tito, and what a performance he gives, first as the attention-grabbing star tenor a la Pavarotti, later as the endearing Betto, the hapless bellboy who adds his talent in the love making and the singing.
Alan Wade has a long history with Olney Theatre Center productions, going back to his 1968-69 appearance with National Players. His portrayal of the American impresario Saunders was clear and direct; he just wanted to put on the show. Vocal talent Matthew Schleigh plays Max, a “second banana” to Saunders and a warm and fuzzy friend/husband to the rest of the crew. Alan Naylor held my interest as Carlo, the rival tenor who bursts into song with vocal purity, thanks to sound designer Justin Schmitz. Seth Gilbert is noted for his costume designs, especially for Allyson Boate, as Mimi, who manages to perform acrobatic stunts in a long gown.
All three women look gorgeous in vintage attire with wigs by LaShawn Melton. Patricia Hurley as Racon, the Soviet sex kitten soprano, is draped in a gorgeous fur wrap for the finale. For the Maria character, Emily Townley, who reminds us of Penelope Cruz in one of her steamy film performances, removes her fashionable suit for a flimsy black negligee.
“Comedy of Tenors” marks the Olney return of talented behind-the-scenes artists Casey Kaleba as fight choreographer and Sonya Dowhaluk, light designer and Brianne Taylor, dialect coach, a tough job in this show with Shakespearean lines, Italian sweet talk and Cleveland jokes.
Review: ‘Little Shop of Horrors’
at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center
By: Cybele Pomeroy
October 7, 2018
It’s the heartwarming story of a hapless boy and his exotic plant. No, wait, it’s a cautionary sci-fi allegory about human desire. Correction: it’s a fun doo-wop musical packed with archetypical characters and catchy tunes. Or maybe it’s better described as a romantic musical comedy that skewers 1960s American values. You want a show that has everything? Stop beating around the bush and walk into the Little Shop Of Horrors at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center at the University of Maryland in College Park.
Little Shop of Horrors plays through October 12, 2018, at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center. The Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center houses multiple performance venues. Little Shopplays in the Kay Theatre, and the curvy raked seating with box seats and a mezzanine gives a cozy feel to a space that seats over 600. The smallish stage is used very imaginatively, with multiple levels, dual-duty set pieces, and fluid “locations.”
Director Ron Himes molds this now oft-produced community favorite into a lively romp celebrating fuzzy nostalgia in the manner of Grease, while highlighting the sci-fi elements, and with them, the underlying admonition central to the original Corman movie. His careful casting generates a watchable ensemble and memorable featured characters.
Music Director Deborah Jacobson does a wonderful job allowing vocals to build, rather than hitting us full force in the early numbers. The trio of “urchins” are prominently featured in this production, and are a joy to observe and hear. Taylor Stokes, Paige Weiss and Samara Brown as Chiffon, Crystal and Ronnette sing, sass, sashay and slither all over the stage, brilliantly performing their function as touchstone narrative-minders. Live musicians perform onstage, screened by a chain-link fence stuffed with trash. They are acknowledged but don’t take a bow; they deserve one.
Singing is uniformly high quality in ensemble numbers. “Skid Row” is everything an opening number ought to be, and the yardstick against which other opening numbers are measured. This cast and choreographer promise excellence in this number, and deliver in later ones. Smaller numbers shine or stumble, depending on the skill and surety of the vocalists. Erin Valade, in the role of Audrey, is a powerhouse singer and offers a hilarious rendition of “Somewhere That’s Green.” Playing antagonist Orin Scrivello, Gabrys Wronka is very convincing and we loathe him as we are meant to do, despite his stirring rendition of “Dentist.” As Seymour Krelborn, Andrew Saundry is endearing and earnest, and with backup support by the vocal trio, performs a rousing duet of “Suddenly Seymour” beside Valade’s Audrey.
A school of UMD’s size has many stage production toys to play with, and a better-than-shoestring budget. Naturally, production values overall are strong. Scenic Designer Grace Limbach Guarniere’s set is eye-catching and full of details, detritus, and neon. It makes good use of the space and has a definite flow, accommodating the movement of rolling set pieces. Sound quality is excellent; actors’ mics all deliver clear audio, ensuring maximum comprehension of Ashburn’s snicker-worthy lyrics. Peter Leibold VI’s flashy lighting design is clever and compensates for the inspecificities of setting imposed by the stage’s size and the show’s necessary mechanics. The very special effects required in Little Shop are done as one would hope of Jim Henson’s alma mater.
Little Shop of Horrors plays through October 12, 2018, at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center. Photo by Stephanie S. Cordle/University of Maryland.If you’re a fan of the 1986 film version of Little Shop, be advised that there are some components of the musical which are different. You’ll enjoy several musical numbers that were left out, and a more sci-fi focus than the movie’s altered ending permits.
Little Shop of Horrors plays through October 12, 2018, at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center. The Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center houses multiple performance venues. Little Shopplays in the Kay Theatre, and the curvy raked seating with box seats and a mezzanine gives a cozy feel to a space that seats over 600. The smallish stage is used very imaginatively, with multiple levels, dual-duty set pieces, and fluid “locations.”
Director Ron Himes molds this now oft-produced community favorite into a lively romp celebrating fuzzy nostalgia in the manner of Grease, while highlighting the sci-fi elements, and with them, the underlying admonition central to the original Corman movie. His careful casting generates a watchable ensemble and memorable featured characters.
Music Director Deborah Jacobson does a wonderful job allowing vocals to build, rather than hitting us full force in the early numbers. The trio of “urchins” are prominently featured in this production, and are a joy to observe and hear. Taylor Stokes, Paige Weiss and Samara Brown as Chiffon, Crystal and Ronnette sing, sass, sashay and slither all over the stage, brilliantly performing their function as touchstone narrative-minders. Live musicians perform onstage, screened by a chain-link fence stuffed with trash. They are acknowledged but don’t take a bow; they deserve one.
Singing is uniformly high quality in ensemble numbers. “Skid Row” is everything an opening number ought to be, and the yardstick against which other opening numbers are measured. This cast and choreographer promise excellence in this number, and deliver in later ones. Smaller numbers shine or stumble, depending on the skill and surety of the vocalists. Erin Valade, in the role of Audrey, is a powerhouse singer and offers a hilarious rendition of “Somewhere That’s Green.” Playing antagonist Orin Scrivello, Gabrys Wronka is very convincing and we loathe him as we are meant to do, despite his stirring rendition of “Dentist.” As Seymour Krelborn, Andrew Saundry is endearing and earnest, and with backup support by the vocal trio, performs a rousing duet of “Suddenly Seymour” beside Valade’s Audrey.
A school of UMD’s size has many stage production toys to play with, and a better-than-shoestring budget. Naturally, production values overall are strong. Scenic Designer Grace Limbach Guarniere’s set is eye-catching and full of details, detritus, and neon. It makes good use of the space and has a definite flow, accommodating the movement of rolling set pieces. Sound quality is excellent; actors’ mics all deliver clear audio, ensuring maximum comprehension of Ashburn’s snicker-worthy lyrics. Peter Leibold VI’s flashy lighting design is clever and compensates for the inspecificities of setting imposed by the stage’s size and the show’s necessary mechanics. The very special effects required in Little Shop are done as one would hope of Jim Henson’s alma mater.
Little Shop of Horrors plays through October 12, 2018, at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center. Photo by Stephanie S. Cordle/University of Maryland.If you’re a fan of the 1986 film version of Little Shop, be advised that there are some components of the musical which are different. You’ll enjoy several musical numbers that were left out, and a more sci-fi focus than the movie’s altered ending permits.
In The Moment: Interview with Sound Designer Justin Schmitz
David Siegel
March 1, 2018
All too often the work of a theater sound designer can go unnoticed. In fact, not long ago the Tony Awards decided not to even provide an award category for sound design (now reinstated). Thankfully, the DC area’s Helen Hayes Awards did not follow the Tonys’ dismissive attitude toward theater sound design. But, what is it that a theater sound designer does? How does sound add impact or nuance to a production? As DC area sound designer Justin Schmitz said in a recent interview, “the sound designer provides aural themes and musical nuance to characters and actions in a production.” He added that a sound designer adds “feelings” with sound, music selections, and for Schmitz, even music he composes. Sound becomes “an additional storyteller.”
If you are not familiar with Justin Schmitz, he is a multi-Helen Hayes nominee for Sound Design. He has worked with theaters across the region. Some of Schmitz’s recent work includes Familiar at Woolly Mammoth, The Skin of Our Teeth and The Wild Party (nominated for a 2018 Helen Hayes Award) at Constellation Theatre. Add to those, The Last Night of Ballyhoo at Theater J, along with Me…Jane: The Dreams & Adventures of Young Jane Goodall with the Kennedy Center’s Theatre for Young Audiences. He worked on Forum Theatre’s I Call My Brothers (nominated for a 2017 Helen Hayes Award) and The Gospel at Colonus at WSC Avant Bard. His upcoming sound design work includes Raisin in the Sun at Gallaudet University, and TRAYF at Theater J. Schmitz’s earlier sound design training included undergraduate work at the University of Wisconsin – La Crosse, the University of North Carolina School for the Arts and a Kenan Fellowship with The Kennedy Center. So, now let’s get to the interview with Justin Schmitz.
David Siegel: What does a theatrical sound designer do?
Justin Schmitz: This really depends on the show; is it a musical or a play. I read the script twice. First to just enjoy the reading, to learn everything I can. I want to know what the playwright and the play or the musical are intending? What are the needs and opportunities for design in the text? After that, I speak with a director to understand her/his vision of the production. From there I take my approach into what I think the sound design and/or composition of the show should be and we discuss it. Simultaneously for either a musical or play, I go into venues and measure the space to find distances and angles to hang loudspeakers that the venue might own, or determine if we need to rent more materials. After that, I draft out the layout of the space or collaborate with the scenic designer and technical director to secure venue drawings that I can use to determine where to put or hide materials onstage.
Then I begin to craft the audio components of the show. This gets split between two very different routes. If the production is a play, I go through the script, again looking for obvious cues, ones that the playwright calls for and asks specifically to be in the play. I also go through again looking for options that the playwright may not have considered, or for external design opportunities within the play. If needed, I can assign themes and musical nuances to characters or actions that are thematic throughout the production.
If the show is a musical, I gather my sound team to assign tasks to begin our work. As the designer, it’s my job to make sure that we incorporate instrument microphones, performer microphones, processing of audio, and mixing all into one smooth experience during tech rehearsals. We as a team figure out what microphones to use on instruments, which actors may need to double up on microphones or do microphone swaps backstage during the show, or even how to fix a problem during a live performance. I have to be really aware of the dynamics between my team and everyone else involved in the production. This includes when the production has extremely technical sounds needs throughout the performance.
If we’ve done our job well, an audience should only ever know that it felt wonderful and right.
I am often asked by audience members how they should listen to and assess a sound design. What would you say to them?
.I think audiences need to listen with the intention of understanding; not reacting. Let a production fully immerse you. Take note of what you are sensing, whether that is sound, projections, costumes, lighting, scenery, acting, sequential execution through stage managing, just be aware of how it all blends together. If the sound design ultimately helps you to enjoy the performance or makes you lean into the story just a little bit further than you were expecting, then that’s a good sound design. If you’re hearing nothing but feedback and are continually confused throughout the production, that can either be a direct choice of the designer or the product of a bad design. Sound design is creative art. Everything is extremely subjective and is a psychological journey. More than anything, it should allow you to slip into a whole new world and help you forget that the outside world you came from exists, if even for an hour or two. It should support the action onstage and enhance your experience from start to finish.
You are working with the Gallaudet University Theater Department. [Gallaudet University teaches students who are deaf or hard of hearing.] Please tell us about your collaboration with Gallaudet.
My job with Gallaudet is as a sound designer for productions, just like I do with other design teams and universities here in DC. I am very fortunate to collaborate with the incredible artists and students on two shows a season. When I did my first production (just over a year ago) it was Bunnicula, a Theatre for Young Audiences musical about a vampire bunny who drained the juice out of vegetables at night while the family was asleep. I was really nervous because I didn’t know exactly how my role as a sound designer for Gallaudet would pan out in a way that made sense to Deaf audiences. Ethan Sinnott, Gallaudet’s program chair, very clearly helped me to understand that my job was to do what I do for every show outside of the university; to make art. Eventually, what I needed was a conversation about the audiences that attend Gallaudet shows. What good is a sound design if folks cannot feel the components of my work at play?
I sat together with the lighting designer and stage manager and asked for feedback on my work – what could they feel? What was making sense in terms of storytelling, and what was confusing? How did my design element help them to understand the story, and most importantly, how did it aid the story’s telling? As tech went on we figured out quickly that some parts of a script are truly written for a hearing audience, so we made changes that worked more specifically for a Deaf audience. One example was a neighbor who consistently was playing his violin and being a disruption to the family onstage. The frequencies of a violin’s resonance are typically difficult for most Deaf/Hard of Hearing folks to fully feel the vibrations because the sound wave is so narrow and small. With the playwright’s permission, we elected to have the neighbor take out the trash frequently. This was achieved by dropping stage weights into an old coal cart that was placed on the ground of the theatre. The vibrations of the stage weight hitting the floor of the cart would transfer throughout the space and be felt with our feet and in our bodies – thus the feeling of the neighbor consistently being a disruption to the action of the play sonically. Additionally, during the tech process I ended up boosting the bass frequencies in the music that we were given. This helped everyone to feel the tempo and rhythm of the music as well.
Overall, designing sound for a predominantly Deaf/Hard of Hearing audience had me think outside the box; to be creative with the experience my design will provide to the audience. What feelings and symbolic aural choices am I making that can translate well to that specific audience? Often we consider that people know instinctually what music and sound is, but this isn’t always the case. I think one of the moments that will forever stand out to me is being asked to explain music to my collaborators and what the music felt like.
I was very fortunate. I teamed up with the lighting designer and we displayed images and set colors to specific music. For slow and sad songs, we used a picture of a river that wasn’t flowing quickly and the leaves had all fallen down, while we made the lighting look blue and darker in the room. For fast-paced and energetic songs, we used pictures of spring and baby animals playing, while we chose red and orange lights to represent that. We created almost a new language together in understanding how music and sound can affect mood and experiences in productions.
This was also a great opportunity for me to re-invest in what it is that sound ultimately tries to do in storytelling. I’ve taken the lessons I learn with my colleagues at Gallaudet and apply them in my regular designs outside of campus. Here in DC specifically I will always request a subwoofer speaker (low-frequency bass) and when I have larger cues that feel more emphatic I will really drive those sounds more heavily. I also use that more with music in pre-show, intermission, and post-show so that a Deaf/Hard of Hearing audience member can know and feel the music happening when it might not be specifically mentioned through interpreters or captioning services.
If you are not familiar with Justin Schmitz, he is a multi-Helen Hayes nominee for Sound Design. He has worked with theaters across the region. Some of Schmitz’s recent work includes Familiar at Woolly Mammoth, The Skin of Our Teeth and The Wild Party (nominated for a 2018 Helen Hayes Award) at Constellation Theatre. Add to those, The Last Night of Ballyhoo at Theater J, along with Me…Jane: The Dreams & Adventures of Young Jane Goodall with the Kennedy Center’s Theatre for Young Audiences. He worked on Forum Theatre’s I Call My Brothers (nominated for a 2017 Helen Hayes Award) and The Gospel at Colonus at WSC Avant Bard. His upcoming sound design work includes Raisin in the Sun at Gallaudet University, and TRAYF at Theater J. Schmitz’s earlier sound design training included undergraduate work at the University of Wisconsin – La Crosse, the University of North Carolina School for the Arts and a Kenan Fellowship with The Kennedy Center. So, now let’s get to the interview with Justin Schmitz.
David Siegel: What does a theatrical sound designer do?
Justin Schmitz: This really depends on the show; is it a musical or a play. I read the script twice. First to just enjoy the reading, to learn everything I can. I want to know what the playwright and the play or the musical are intending? What are the needs and opportunities for design in the text? After that, I speak with a director to understand her/his vision of the production. From there I take my approach into what I think the sound design and/or composition of the show should be and we discuss it. Simultaneously for either a musical or play, I go into venues and measure the space to find distances and angles to hang loudspeakers that the venue might own, or determine if we need to rent more materials. After that, I draft out the layout of the space or collaborate with the scenic designer and technical director to secure venue drawings that I can use to determine where to put or hide materials onstage.
Then I begin to craft the audio components of the show. This gets split between two very different routes. If the production is a play, I go through the script, again looking for obvious cues, ones that the playwright calls for and asks specifically to be in the play. I also go through again looking for options that the playwright may not have considered, or for external design opportunities within the play. If needed, I can assign themes and musical nuances to characters or actions that are thematic throughout the production.
If the show is a musical, I gather my sound team to assign tasks to begin our work. As the designer, it’s my job to make sure that we incorporate instrument microphones, performer microphones, processing of audio, and mixing all into one smooth experience during tech rehearsals. We as a team figure out what microphones to use on instruments, which actors may need to double up on microphones or do microphone swaps backstage during the show, or even how to fix a problem during a live performance. I have to be really aware of the dynamics between my team and everyone else involved in the production. This includes when the production has extremely technical sounds needs throughout the performance.
If we’ve done our job well, an audience should only ever know that it felt wonderful and right.
I am often asked by audience members how they should listen to and assess a sound design. What would you say to them?
.I think audiences need to listen with the intention of understanding; not reacting. Let a production fully immerse you. Take note of what you are sensing, whether that is sound, projections, costumes, lighting, scenery, acting, sequential execution through stage managing, just be aware of how it all blends together. If the sound design ultimately helps you to enjoy the performance or makes you lean into the story just a little bit further than you were expecting, then that’s a good sound design. If you’re hearing nothing but feedback and are continually confused throughout the production, that can either be a direct choice of the designer or the product of a bad design. Sound design is creative art. Everything is extremely subjective and is a psychological journey. More than anything, it should allow you to slip into a whole new world and help you forget that the outside world you came from exists, if even for an hour or two. It should support the action onstage and enhance your experience from start to finish.
You are working with the Gallaudet University Theater Department. [Gallaudet University teaches students who are deaf or hard of hearing.] Please tell us about your collaboration with Gallaudet.
My job with Gallaudet is as a sound designer for productions, just like I do with other design teams and universities here in DC. I am very fortunate to collaborate with the incredible artists and students on two shows a season. When I did my first production (just over a year ago) it was Bunnicula, a Theatre for Young Audiences musical about a vampire bunny who drained the juice out of vegetables at night while the family was asleep. I was really nervous because I didn’t know exactly how my role as a sound designer for Gallaudet would pan out in a way that made sense to Deaf audiences. Ethan Sinnott, Gallaudet’s program chair, very clearly helped me to understand that my job was to do what I do for every show outside of the university; to make art. Eventually, what I needed was a conversation about the audiences that attend Gallaudet shows. What good is a sound design if folks cannot feel the components of my work at play?
I sat together with the lighting designer and stage manager and asked for feedback on my work – what could they feel? What was making sense in terms of storytelling, and what was confusing? How did my design element help them to understand the story, and most importantly, how did it aid the story’s telling? As tech went on we figured out quickly that some parts of a script are truly written for a hearing audience, so we made changes that worked more specifically for a Deaf audience. One example was a neighbor who consistently was playing his violin and being a disruption to the family onstage. The frequencies of a violin’s resonance are typically difficult for most Deaf/Hard of Hearing folks to fully feel the vibrations because the sound wave is so narrow and small. With the playwright’s permission, we elected to have the neighbor take out the trash frequently. This was achieved by dropping stage weights into an old coal cart that was placed on the ground of the theatre. The vibrations of the stage weight hitting the floor of the cart would transfer throughout the space and be felt with our feet and in our bodies – thus the feeling of the neighbor consistently being a disruption to the action of the play sonically. Additionally, during the tech process I ended up boosting the bass frequencies in the music that we were given. This helped everyone to feel the tempo and rhythm of the music as well.
Overall, designing sound for a predominantly Deaf/Hard of Hearing audience had me think outside the box; to be creative with the experience my design will provide to the audience. What feelings and symbolic aural choices am I making that can translate well to that specific audience? Often we consider that people know instinctually what music and sound is, but this isn’t always the case. I think one of the moments that will forever stand out to me is being asked to explain music to my collaborators and what the music felt like.
I was very fortunate. I teamed up with the lighting designer and we displayed images and set colors to specific music. For slow and sad songs, we used a picture of a river that wasn’t flowing quickly and the leaves had all fallen down, while we made the lighting look blue and darker in the room. For fast-paced and energetic songs, we used pictures of spring and baby animals playing, while we chose red and orange lights to represent that. We created almost a new language together in understanding how music and sound can affect mood and experiences in productions.
This was also a great opportunity for me to re-invest in what it is that sound ultimately tries to do in storytelling. I’ve taken the lessons I learn with my colleagues at Gallaudet and apply them in my regular designs outside of campus. Here in DC specifically I will always request a subwoofer speaker (low-frequency bass) and when I have larger cues that feel more emphatic I will really drive those sounds more heavily. I also use that more with music in pre-show, intermission, and post-show so that a Deaf/Hard of Hearing audience member can know and feel the music happening when it might not be specifically mentioned through interpreters or captioning services.
Review: ‘Trayf’ a World Premiere at Theatre J
By: Ian Thal
June 6, 2018
New York, 1991: Zalmy (Tyler Herman) and Shmuly (Josh Adams) are two young men, best friends since childhood, excited to get behind the wheel of their newly acquired RV. What makes them different from most American nineteen-year-olds with a new set of wheels is that they are Lubavitchers, Chabadniks. Their vehicle is a “Mitzvah Tank” and on the side is a sign with a portrait of their spiritual leader, the Alter Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-1994), and the message, “Increase in Goodness and Kindness to Bring Moshiach Now!”
The duo, like any friends of that age, banter about the things that are important to them, anxieties about how they are of that age when matchmakers come around arranging possible marriages, and what their missions in life might be. And of course, they argue about music. They get into an argument over whether it is kosher to make a mixtape of one’s favorite songs (Zalmy’s position) or as Shmuly insists, one should listen to albums all the way through, much as an observant Jew reads the Torah over the course of a year, each line part of a larger revelatory structure (of course they only listen to religious music in the Mitzvah Tank.) Zalmy is excited to speak about how, on a recent trip, he spotted Elton John at a hotel – Shmuly not only doesn’t know who that is, but say he closes his ears to secular music because when one listens to any music, “the soul of the author enters the room.” To him, such music is as trayf to listen to as pork is to eat.
Once they select a neighborhood the pair stand outside the tank, and attempt to engage any likely-looking passersby with the question, “are you Jewish?” But no one will stop to talk to them about the importance of keeping kosher. Zalmy asks his friend if he would rather give a pamphlet to a blind person or Shabbat candles to a woman without hands. It may sound like the cruel grotesque humor of nineteen-year-olds, but it becomes a discourse on Talmudic ethics – and one sees that these friends love how the other thinks. Things proceed in an absurdist manner until something finally happens. A Johnathan (Drew Kopas) a music producer clad in cherry red Doc Marten boots and a New Order t-shirt, and a denim jacket, approaches and asks them, “are you Jewish?”
Jonathan, though raised Catholic, has just discovered that his recently deceased father had hidden the fact that he was a child refugee from the Holocaust. Now he desperately wants to connect with the Jewish roots he never knew he had. The Chabadniks find themselves in a debate of law versus mysticism. For Shmuly, Jonathan is a goy, because he doesn’t have a Jewish mother, but Zalmy suggests that Jonathan might have a Jewish soul if there is the slightest chance it is true, it is a mitzvah to help Jonathan on his hastily decided upon spiritual journey. Chabad (an acronym for the Hebrew words for wisdom, understanding, and knowledge) is a sect of Chasidic Judaism founded in 1775. They became known as Lubavitchers after 1821 when the leadership moved to the Polish-Lithuanian town of Lubowicze. The movement relocated to the United States during the Holocaust where it became centered on the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. Its current visibility in the Jewish world is due to Rabbi Schneerson’s exhortation to his followers to engage in outreach to non-observant Jews world-wide – not necessarily to make them into Chabadniks – but sometimes in smaller ways, as Zalmy and Shmuly do, handing out candles or inviting Jews inside the tank for the wrapping of tefillin (a ritual that has declined in practice outside the Orthodox world) – with the thought that each act, no matter how small, will bring the world closer to the awaited messianic age
The years of research Playwright Lindsay Joelle put into this show have allowed her to render the Lubavitcher world in anthropological detail that ensures the characters feel real. One sees how the community offers a sense of connectedness, and higher purpose, as well as a system of thinking through every possible ethical and emotional dilemma. The attraction it has for someone like Jonathan who is experiencing several degrees of estrangement is palpable. But Joelle also shows Zalmy’s curiousity about what exists beyond his community. He wonders if he can have a foot both in Crown Heights and the secular world of pop culture (including Fiddler on the Roof), as well as how Jonathan’s girlfriend Leah (Madeline Joey Rose), a no longer observant Jew, can be righteously angered as her long-time boyfriend is changing before her eyes. Most importantly, there is a richness in Joelle’s language that gets to the heart of what matters most to every one of her characters.
But Joelle’s words need to inhabit actors. Adams and Herman, as the Chasidim on a mission, invest their characters with youthful excitement and idealism as well as the deep friendship they can have even when they find themselves on opposite sides of an essential argument not just because they have reached different conclusions, but because they realize they have different questions. Kopas traces a fascinating arc as a soul adrift on a sea of questions who then believes he is on course to receive all the answers. Rose, who enters late in the play, has the gravitas to give this comedy some real edge – giving her character a combination of incisive intelligence and real-world experience that challenges the learned zeal of the youthful tzadikim (“righteous ones”).
Scenic Designer Paige Hathaway captures the grimy exuberance of New York circa 1991. Dingy brick walls are tagged with scrawling graffiti and emblazoned with posters for such fashion brands as Nike and DKNY, both local and touring bands like The Clash, A Tribe Called Quest,Tom Tom Club, Social Distortion, Levi and the Rockats, and street artist Shepard Fairey’s “OBEY” stickers with their stylized representations of wrestler André the Giant.
Sound Designer Justin Schmitz has created a mixtape complete with the high pitched whir of the fast forward, splicing the alternate pop-culture universe of Chasidic song with such iconic tracks from Nirvana, A Tribe Called Quest, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and others who will likely evoke nostalgia amongst the Gen-Xers in the audience.
Director Derek Goldman skillfully brings these sonic, visual, and dramatic elements together. This is no small feat, and not every play, even a deserving play like Trayf, especially on its world premiere, receives such treatment.
The duo, like any friends of that age, banter about the things that are important to them, anxieties about how they are of that age when matchmakers come around arranging possible marriages, and what their missions in life might be. And of course, they argue about music. They get into an argument over whether it is kosher to make a mixtape of one’s favorite songs (Zalmy’s position) or as Shmuly insists, one should listen to albums all the way through, much as an observant Jew reads the Torah over the course of a year, each line part of a larger revelatory structure (of course they only listen to religious music in the Mitzvah Tank.) Zalmy is excited to speak about how, on a recent trip, he spotted Elton John at a hotel – Shmuly not only doesn’t know who that is, but say he closes his ears to secular music because when one listens to any music, “the soul of the author enters the room.” To him, such music is as trayf to listen to as pork is to eat.
Once they select a neighborhood the pair stand outside the tank, and attempt to engage any likely-looking passersby with the question, “are you Jewish?” But no one will stop to talk to them about the importance of keeping kosher. Zalmy asks his friend if he would rather give a pamphlet to a blind person or Shabbat candles to a woman without hands. It may sound like the cruel grotesque humor of nineteen-year-olds, but it becomes a discourse on Talmudic ethics – and one sees that these friends love how the other thinks. Things proceed in an absurdist manner until something finally happens. A Johnathan (Drew Kopas) a music producer clad in cherry red Doc Marten boots and a New Order t-shirt, and a denim jacket, approaches and asks them, “are you Jewish?”
Jonathan, though raised Catholic, has just discovered that his recently deceased father had hidden the fact that he was a child refugee from the Holocaust. Now he desperately wants to connect with the Jewish roots he never knew he had. The Chabadniks find themselves in a debate of law versus mysticism. For Shmuly, Jonathan is a goy, because he doesn’t have a Jewish mother, but Zalmy suggests that Jonathan might have a Jewish soul if there is the slightest chance it is true, it is a mitzvah to help Jonathan on his hastily decided upon spiritual journey. Chabad (an acronym for the Hebrew words for wisdom, understanding, and knowledge) is a sect of Chasidic Judaism founded in 1775. They became known as Lubavitchers after 1821 when the leadership moved to the Polish-Lithuanian town of Lubowicze. The movement relocated to the United States during the Holocaust where it became centered on the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. Its current visibility in the Jewish world is due to Rabbi Schneerson’s exhortation to his followers to engage in outreach to non-observant Jews world-wide – not necessarily to make them into Chabadniks – but sometimes in smaller ways, as Zalmy and Shmuly do, handing out candles or inviting Jews inside the tank for the wrapping of tefillin (a ritual that has declined in practice outside the Orthodox world) – with the thought that each act, no matter how small, will bring the world closer to the awaited messianic age
The years of research Playwright Lindsay Joelle put into this show have allowed her to render the Lubavitcher world in anthropological detail that ensures the characters feel real. One sees how the community offers a sense of connectedness, and higher purpose, as well as a system of thinking through every possible ethical and emotional dilemma. The attraction it has for someone like Jonathan who is experiencing several degrees of estrangement is palpable. But Joelle also shows Zalmy’s curiousity about what exists beyond his community. He wonders if he can have a foot both in Crown Heights and the secular world of pop culture (including Fiddler on the Roof), as well as how Jonathan’s girlfriend Leah (Madeline Joey Rose), a no longer observant Jew, can be righteously angered as her long-time boyfriend is changing before her eyes. Most importantly, there is a richness in Joelle’s language that gets to the heart of what matters most to every one of her characters.
But Joelle’s words need to inhabit actors. Adams and Herman, as the Chasidim on a mission, invest their characters with youthful excitement and idealism as well as the deep friendship they can have even when they find themselves on opposite sides of an essential argument not just because they have reached different conclusions, but because they realize they have different questions. Kopas traces a fascinating arc as a soul adrift on a sea of questions who then believes he is on course to receive all the answers. Rose, who enters late in the play, has the gravitas to give this comedy some real edge – giving her character a combination of incisive intelligence and real-world experience that challenges the learned zeal of the youthful tzadikim (“righteous ones”).
Scenic Designer Paige Hathaway captures the grimy exuberance of New York circa 1991. Dingy brick walls are tagged with scrawling graffiti and emblazoned with posters for such fashion brands as Nike and DKNY, both local and touring bands like The Clash, A Tribe Called Quest,Tom Tom Club, Social Distortion, Levi and the Rockats, and street artist Shepard Fairey’s “OBEY” stickers with their stylized representations of wrestler André the Giant.
Sound Designer Justin Schmitz has created a mixtape complete with the high pitched whir of the fast forward, splicing the alternate pop-culture universe of Chasidic song with such iconic tracks from Nirvana, A Tribe Called Quest, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and others who will likely evoke nostalgia amongst the Gen-Xers in the audience.
Director Derek Goldman skillfully brings these sonic, visual, and dramatic elements together. This is no small feat, and not every play, even a deserving play like Trayf, especially on its world premiere, receives such treatment.
Review: ‘Familiar’ at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company
By: John Stoltenberg
February 10, 2018
When the 2018 Women’s Voices Theater Festival comes to a close and the hits to emerge from it are tallied, Danai Gurira’s comedy Familiar will surely be on the shortlist.
Gurira’s play Eclipsed--a brutal story about a Liberian rebel war lord’s sex slaves and a female Liberian freedom fighter’s attempt to rescue them—had a hugely successful run on Broadway, where it has to have been the most politically gripping play about African women ever seen on the Great White Way. With Familiar, Gurira continues her focus on women of African ancestry, but this time the politically gripping story she tells is tucked inside—wait for it—a gut-bustingly funny comedy set in a suburb of Minneapolis.
The storytelling starts with Set Designer Paige Hathaway’s eye-filling two-level interior of a middle-upper-class home, tastefully decorated in white and beige. It’s like a whitewashed canvas awaiting bold strokes of color (which the play more than delivers). The home belongs to a sixty-something married couple—he’s a lawyer, she’s a biochemist—who are emigres from Zimbabwe, but there is not a hint of Africa in the decor. There are however icicles hanging from the exposed roof and frost on the windowpanes, as it’s subzero Minnesota winter. The look is coolly assimilationist, Architectural Digest style. Oh, but there’s a carved antique Christian cross on the wall. And Donald, the husband (a stalwart Kim Sullivan), attempts to hang a map of Zimbabwe, but his wife, Marvelous (a marvelously authoritative Inga Ballard), wants it taken down. The conflict that’s to heat up between Western values and African traditions has only just begun—and already laughter is rolling sitcom style.
Donald and Marvelous’s younger daughter, Nyasha (a delightfully droll Shannon Dorsey), has flown in from New York, where she’s been trying to make it as a singer-songwriter and feng shui consultant. To try to better understand her Zimbabwean roots, she recently visited Zim, as she calls it; but having been raised by parents who completely Americanized her, she did not know the language and could not connect. The occasion is the wedding of Donald and Marvelous’s older daughter, a successful lawyer named Tendi (a strikingly nuanced Sharina Martin) to Chris (a charmingly earnest Drew Kopas), who co-founded a nonprofit that does human-rights work in Africa. They met cute in a charismatic Christian congregation. As it happens, Chris is Caucasian (“a white boy from Minnetonka”), and the play mines their cross-cultural contrast for much enjoyable humor. Interestingly, the values and culture clash that really erupts in the play is not so much about the wedding couple as it is about bitter differences and animosities among Marvelous and her two sisters.
The younger sister, Margaret (an amiable Twinkie Burke), has a Ph.D. with no career to show for it and likes to drink. Marvelous has welcomed her for the wedding. But Marvelous is outraged when her older sister, Anne (a force-of-nature Cheryl Lynn Bruce), arrives from Zimbabwe to officiate at a traditional roora--the so-called bride-price ceremony—which Tendi and Chris have opted for out of respect for Tendi’s forebears. Marvelous is adamantly opposed and sparks fly.
Gurira uses that disagreement over roora to precipitate some very funny scenes and some very sobering ones, and both sorts cut to the quick of her theme. Not a punchline or sight gag is untethered to her purpose. For instance, in roora the groom must have a go-between to negotiate with the bride’s family how much he owes them. For this task Chris taps his younger brother Brad (the agreeably goofy Andy Truschinski). There ensues a hilarious scene in which both white guys are on their knees awkwardly clapping and dropping offerings of cash at Anne’s bidding into a wooden bowl. The turnabout subtext of the ritual is priceless. There is also a scene between Brad and Nyasha that closes Act I that is so howlingly funny it turned intermission on opening night into a buzzy party.
Among the play’s more serious moments are some trenchant and timely speeches about the price paid by immigrants who forsake their cultural identity for the sake of success and assimilation. For instance:
ANNE: YOU PEOPLE WANT TO SIT IN THIS COUNTRY AND ACT LIKE ZIMBABWE NO LONGER EXISTS? IT EXISTS!! AND IT IS WHERE YOU ARE FROM! YOU PEOPLE HAVEN’T BEEN BACK ONCE! AS THOUGH THERE IS SOME OTHER LAND WHERE YOU WERE BIRTHED AND SUCKLED! YOU WANT TO KEEP THESE WHITES HAPPY, FOR WHAT? THEY ARE GOING TO TAKE OUR DAUGHTER TO BE IN THEIR FAMILY! SHE IS GOING TO LOSE HER NAME, SHE IS GOING TO START HAVING … CHILDREN THAT WILL TALK LIKE HER, (IMITATING AN AMERICAN ACCENT) ‘MAWM, I WANT TO GO TO THE MAWWL MAWM! I WANT PIZZA!’ … THEY WILL BE ASKED WHERE THEY ARE FROM AND THEY WILL SAY, MINESOOOTA, AND THAT WILL BE IT!
The most pivotal character in the play turns out to be one who never appears; we only hear of her. She is deceased. Her name is Florie. She was a fourth sister (Auntie Florie to Nyasha and Tendi), a Zimbabwean liberation fighter, “very involved in the armed forces that were fighting the colonial regime.” Says Auntie Anne: “She was a revolutionary really. Very, very brave.” Figuratively Florie is also a sister to the liberation fighter in Eclipsed.
Costume Designer Karen Perry supplies bold dashes of bright colors for the three sisters and Tendi. Lighting Designer Colin K. Bills and Sound Designer Justin Schmitz subtly create a realistic ambiance. And the work of Director Adam Immerwahr is exceptionally impressive. Not a breath is out of place, not a beat does not take us into the heart of this phenomenal play.
It is Gurira’s great gift to be able to regale us with torrents of humor in easily recognizable family squabbles—set in the snow-white American Midwest of all places—and at the same time anchor her play firmly in the political reality of her characters’ ancestral home. Near the end, she then tops it off with a big family-secret reveal. On the face of it, that heart-stopping surprise might seem to border on melodrama. But actually, brilliantly, it brings home and personalizes an ongoing identity and liberation struggle that for each of her characters is precisely her point.
Look for Woolly Mammoth’s production of Danai Gurira’s Familiar at the top of a lot of must-see lists this season. It is, quite simply, a comedic masterpiece.
Gurira’s play Eclipsed--a brutal story about a Liberian rebel war lord’s sex slaves and a female Liberian freedom fighter’s attempt to rescue them—had a hugely successful run on Broadway, where it has to have been the most politically gripping play about African women ever seen on the Great White Way. With Familiar, Gurira continues her focus on women of African ancestry, but this time the politically gripping story she tells is tucked inside—wait for it—a gut-bustingly funny comedy set in a suburb of Minneapolis.
The storytelling starts with Set Designer Paige Hathaway’s eye-filling two-level interior of a middle-upper-class home, tastefully decorated in white and beige. It’s like a whitewashed canvas awaiting bold strokes of color (which the play more than delivers). The home belongs to a sixty-something married couple—he’s a lawyer, she’s a biochemist—who are emigres from Zimbabwe, but there is not a hint of Africa in the decor. There are however icicles hanging from the exposed roof and frost on the windowpanes, as it’s subzero Minnesota winter. The look is coolly assimilationist, Architectural Digest style. Oh, but there’s a carved antique Christian cross on the wall. And Donald, the husband (a stalwart Kim Sullivan), attempts to hang a map of Zimbabwe, but his wife, Marvelous (a marvelously authoritative Inga Ballard), wants it taken down. The conflict that’s to heat up between Western values and African traditions has only just begun—and already laughter is rolling sitcom style.
Donald and Marvelous’s younger daughter, Nyasha (a delightfully droll Shannon Dorsey), has flown in from New York, where she’s been trying to make it as a singer-songwriter and feng shui consultant. To try to better understand her Zimbabwean roots, she recently visited Zim, as she calls it; but having been raised by parents who completely Americanized her, she did not know the language and could not connect. The occasion is the wedding of Donald and Marvelous’s older daughter, a successful lawyer named Tendi (a strikingly nuanced Sharina Martin) to Chris (a charmingly earnest Drew Kopas), who co-founded a nonprofit that does human-rights work in Africa. They met cute in a charismatic Christian congregation. As it happens, Chris is Caucasian (“a white boy from Minnetonka”), and the play mines their cross-cultural contrast for much enjoyable humor. Interestingly, the values and culture clash that really erupts in the play is not so much about the wedding couple as it is about bitter differences and animosities among Marvelous and her two sisters.
The younger sister, Margaret (an amiable Twinkie Burke), has a Ph.D. with no career to show for it and likes to drink. Marvelous has welcomed her for the wedding. But Marvelous is outraged when her older sister, Anne (a force-of-nature Cheryl Lynn Bruce), arrives from Zimbabwe to officiate at a traditional roora--the so-called bride-price ceremony—which Tendi and Chris have opted for out of respect for Tendi’s forebears. Marvelous is adamantly opposed and sparks fly.
Gurira uses that disagreement over roora to precipitate some very funny scenes and some very sobering ones, and both sorts cut to the quick of her theme. Not a punchline or sight gag is untethered to her purpose. For instance, in roora the groom must have a go-between to negotiate with the bride’s family how much he owes them. For this task Chris taps his younger brother Brad (the agreeably goofy Andy Truschinski). There ensues a hilarious scene in which both white guys are on their knees awkwardly clapping and dropping offerings of cash at Anne’s bidding into a wooden bowl. The turnabout subtext of the ritual is priceless. There is also a scene between Brad and Nyasha that closes Act I that is so howlingly funny it turned intermission on opening night into a buzzy party.
Among the play’s more serious moments are some trenchant and timely speeches about the price paid by immigrants who forsake their cultural identity for the sake of success and assimilation. For instance:
ANNE: YOU PEOPLE WANT TO SIT IN THIS COUNTRY AND ACT LIKE ZIMBABWE NO LONGER EXISTS? IT EXISTS!! AND IT IS WHERE YOU ARE FROM! YOU PEOPLE HAVEN’T BEEN BACK ONCE! AS THOUGH THERE IS SOME OTHER LAND WHERE YOU WERE BIRTHED AND SUCKLED! YOU WANT TO KEEP THESE WHITES HAPPY, FOR WHAT? THEY ARE GOING TO TAKE OUR DAUGHTER TO BE IN THEIR FAMILY! SHE IS GOING TO LOSE HER NAME, SHE IS GOING TO START HAVING … CHILDREN THAT WILL TALK LIKE HER, (IMITATING AN AMERICAN ACCENT) ‘MAWM, I WANT TO GO TO THE MAWWL MAWM! I WANT PIZZA!’ … THEY WILL BE ASKED WHERE THEY ARE FROM AND THEY WILL SAY, MINESOOOTA, AND THAT WILL BE IT!
The most pivotal character in the play turns out to be one who never appears; we only hear of her. She is deceased. Her name is Florie. She was a fourth sister (Auntie Florie to Nyasha and Tendi), a Zimbabwean liberation fighter, “very involved in the armed forces that were fighting the colonial regime.” Says Auntie Anne: “She was a revolutionary really. Very, very brave.” Figuratively Florie is also a sister to the liberation fighter in Eclipsed.
Costume Designer Karen Perry supplies bold dashes of bright colors for the three sisters and Tendi. Lighting Designer Colin K. Bills and Sound Designer Justin Schmitz subtly create a realistic ambiance. And the work of Director Adam Immerwahr is exceptionally impressive. Not a breath is out of place, not a beat does not take us into the heart of this phenomenal play.
It is Gurira’s great gift to be able to regale us with torrents of humor in easily recognizable family squabbles—set in the snow-white American Midwest of all places—and at the same time anchor her play firmly in the political reality of her characters’ ancestral home. Near the end, she then tops it off with a big family-secret reveal. On the face of it, that heart-stopping surprise might seem to border on melodrama. But actually, brilliantly, it brings home and personalizes an ongoing identity and liberation struggle that for each of her characters is precisely her point.
Look for Woolly Mammoth’s production of Danai Gurira’s Familiar at the top of a lot of must-see lists this season. It is, quite simply, a comedic masterpiece.
BWW Review: Southern Charm Radiates from Theater J's THE LAST NIGHT OF BALLYHOO
by Benjamin Tomchik
Dec. 7, 2017
If there is one constant in the works of Alfred Uhry it is that of a social conscience. This was, after all, the playwright who brought us the poignant Pulitzer Prize winning play Driving Miss Daisy and the heartbreaking musical Parade. Which is why it is surprising that his play, The Last Night of Ballyhoo, was lacking that moral clarity and conscience.Despite the eternal themes of identity and religious tolerance, combined with its vivid characters and sharp barbs, the examination of religious prejudice too often becomes a secondary concern in the play. The result is that Theater J's production, led by Susan Rome and Shayna Blass, while near perfect, still cannot overcome the fact that The Last Night of Ballyhoo has the impact of Hallmark movie - gentle, warm, but ultimately forgettable.
The problem lies in the play's construction. More specifically, that the focus often seems misplaced. And while the family dynamic is fun to watch, the play has deeper themes. We can't help but wish Uhry would explore them. When we first meet the Freitag family, Lala, the aforementioned Blass, is bubbling with excitement. Gone with the Wind is having its world premiere in Atlanta and Lala wants to go star-gaze at all the celebrities attending. Her mother Boo, played by the commanding and steely Rome, would rather she focus less on the movie premiere and more on getting a date to the upcoming Ballyhoo, an all-Jewish dance. However, Lala wants nothing to do with Ballyhoo until her Uncle Adolph, the loving and paternal Sasha Olinick, brings his new assistant Joe to a family dinner. Suddenly Lala is interested in Ballyhoo, and going with Joe, played with boyish good looks and charm by Zack Powell. Joe is not interested in Ballyhoo that is until he meets Lala's cousin Sunny, the bookish and smart Madeline Rose Burrows. The conflict in The Last Night of Ballyhoo lies in both in the Freitag family's association with Judaism and the location of the Ballyhoo. Even though the family is Jewish, they have a Christmas tree radiating with colored lights and gifts, wish their neighbors and friends a 'merry Christmas', and often remind us that they are one of two Jewish families who live on an upper-class street. As for the Ballyhoo, it is being held at a club whose membership is restricted to Jews of German descent. Jews from Eastern Europe, Russia or elsewhere are prohibited from becoming members.
And while the setup is utterly intriguing, too much of the play focuses on the Ballyhoo itself. Will Lala get a date, what will she wear, and is Joe going to ask Sunny to be his date? It is not till the final quarter of the play where the issue of religious identity and tolerance is raised, courtesy of Joe's passion and pride in his Eastern European heritage. By that point the conflict is quickly wrapped-up, so much so that it is debatable whether the final scene is real or a dream sequence. That's not to say that the play is not enjoyable, quite the opposite. There are many laughs to be had, the cast is stellar and the production top-notch. Blass, who despite being New York-based, is becoming a fixture in the DC theater scene and for good reason. Her Lala gives both Vivien Leigh and Carol Burnett's Scarlett O'Hara a run for their money in terms of drama and laughs. She's aided by Amber Paige McGinnis' direction which celebrates the play's humor. When we see Lala's Ballyhoo dress, tactfully designed for comedic effect by Kelsey Hunt, McGinnis acutely knows how to prevent the scene and the gag inherit in Lala's costume from carrying on too long.
A steely and determined Rome is sharp as Boo. Both the desperation of Lala's situation and drive in fixing her daughter's flaws make her someone not to be reckoned with. Then again though, the play is not a question of whether Lala goes to Ballyhoo. But rather what happens when beliefs become so ingrained that we fail to notice them. There's a moment when Aunt Reba, played with absent-minded charm by Julie-Ann Elliott, makes a remark about the 'other Jews' and not only is this never challenged, it is barely acknowledged. Uhry was commissioned by the Olympics' Art Festival to write The Last Night of Ballyhoo in celebration of the 1996 Summer Games in Atlanta. He choose to set the play during the last major event to take place in the city, the 1939 world premiere of Gone with the Wind. And the movie, in many ways, is almost like a silent character.
Now if you have never seen Gone with the Wind, do not worry because movie posters and pictures from the premiere fill Daniel Conway's stylish upper-middle class set. Justin Schmitz's sound design utilizes Max Steiner's score from the Civil War epic between scenes, returning us to the grandeur of the antebellum south. The score is also utilized in a tongue-and-cheek manner as a humorous accompaniment to Lala's many dramatic moments.
There's a lot to like with The Last Night of Ballyhoo. However, while Uhry may have strived to have the play make a statement, we are instead left with a feel-good play that says little. From the cast to the creative design aspects, Theater J's production is as good as it gets. We just wish Uhry's play was the same way.
The problem lies in the play's construction. More specifically, that the focus often seems misplaced. And while the family dynamic is fun to watch, the play has deeper themes. We can't help but wish Uhry would explore them. When we first meet the Freitag family, Lala, the aforementioned Blass, is bubbling with excitement. Gone with the Wind is having its world premiere in Atlanta and Lala wants to go star-gaze at all the celebrities attending. Her mother Boo, played by the commanding and steely Rome, would rather she focus less on the movie premiere and more on getting a date to the upcoming Ballyhoo, an all-Jewish dance. However, Lala wants nothing to do with Ballyhoo until her Uncle Adolph, the loving and paternal Sasha Olinick, brings his new assistant Joe to a family dinner. Suddenly Lala is interested in Ballyhoo, and going with Joe, played with boyish good looks and charm by Zack Powell. Joe is not interested in Ballyhoo that is until he meets Lala's cousin Sunny, the bookish and smart Madeline Rose Burrows. The conflict in The Last Night of Ballyhoo lies in both in the Freitag family's association with Judaism and the location of the Ballyhoo. Even though the family is Jewish, they have a Christmas tree radiating with colored lights and gifts, wish their neighbors and friends a 'merry Christmas', and often remind us that they are one of two Jewish families who live on an upper-class street. As for the Ballyhoo, it is being held at a club whose membership is restricted to Jews of German descent. Jews from Eastern Europe, Russia or elsewhere are prohibited from becoming members.
And while the setup is utterly intriguing, too much of the play focuses on the Ballyhoo itself. Will Lala get a date, what will she wear, and is Joe going to ask Sunny to be his date? It is not till the final quarter of the play where the issue of religious identity and tolerance is raised, courtesy of Joe's passion and pride in his Eastern European heritage. By that point the conflict is quickly wrapped-up, so much so that it is debatable whether the final scene is real or a dream sequence. That's not to say that the play is not enjoyable, quite the opposite. There are many laughs to be had, the cast is stellar and the production top-notch. Blass, who despite being New York-based, is becoming a fixture in the DC theater scene and for good reason. Her Lala gives both Vivien Leigh and Carol Burnett's Scarlett O'Hara a run for their money in terms of drama and laughs. She's aided by Amber Paige McGinnis' direction which celebrates the play's humor. When we see Lala's Ballyhoo dress, tactfully designed for comedic effect by Kelsey Hunt, McGinnis acutely knows how to prevent the scene and the gag inherit in Lala's costume from carrying on too long.
A steely and determined Rome is sharp as Boo. Both the desperation of Lala's situation and drive in fixing her daughter's flaws make her someone not to be reckoned with. Then again though, the play is not a question of whether Lala goes to Ballyhoo. But rather what happens when beliefs become so ingrained that we fail to notice them. There's a moment when Aunt Reba, played with absent-minded charm by Julie-Ann Elliott, makes a remark about the 'other Jews' and not only is this never challenged, it is barely acknowledged. Uhry was commissioned by the Olympics' Art Festival to write The Last Night of Ballyhoo in celebration of the 1996 Summer Games in Atlanta. He choose to set the play during the last major event to take place in the city, the 1939 world premiere of Gone with the Wind. And the movie, in many ways, is almost like a silent character.
Now if you have never seen Gone with the Wind, do not worry because movie posters and pictures from the premiere fill Daniel Conway's stylish upper-middle class set. Justin Schmitz's sound design utilizes Max Steiner's score from the Civil War epic between scenes, returning us to the grandeur of the antebellum south. The score is also utilized in a tongue-and-cheek manner as a humorous accompaniment to Lala's many dramatic moments.
There's a lot to like with The Last Night of Ballyhoo. However, while Uhry may have strived to have the play make a statement, we are instead left with a feel-good play that says little. From the cast to the creative design aspects, Theater J's production is as good as it gets. We just wish Uhry's play was the same way.
Review: ‘The Last Night of Ballyhoo’ at Theater J
By: David Siegel
December 5, 2017
Tinsel and garlands are festooned about a beautiful 10 foot tall Christmas tree. Easy to be captivated with such an exquisite Christmas touch. But, wait, the tree is standing tall on the Edlavitch DCJCC Theater J stage. A double take is in order. No, the DCJCC has not been taken over by a developer with new plans for the venerable DC Jewish Community Center. Phew. The tree is a key design element for Theater J’s self-described “Chanukah Cheer” with The Last Night of Ballyhoo. The tree is one of the many classy, refined designs (Daniel Conway is scenic designer, Colin K. Bills is lighting designer, Timothy J. Jones is props designer) for Theater J’s The Last Night of Ballyhoo deftly directed by local talent Amber McGinnis.
If you are not familiar with Ballyhoo, it is Alfred Uhry’s look back into Southern Jewish nostalgia based upon his own life’s experiences. The Last Night of Ballyhoo was the winner of the 1997 Tony Award for Best Play (in one of the weaker years for new plays on Broadway). So, what has Alfred Uhury given theater goers? It is the December 1939. The Freitag’s and Levy’s are at home getting their upper-class digs ready for Christmas. Well, up to a point; a star on the top of the Christmas tree is a bit too “goyish.” The Atlanta movie premiere of the soon-to-be mega hit Gone With the Wind has also brought hoopla.
And then there is a perennial local Southern custom: the Ballyhoo. It is an extravagant, invitation-only, country club event so certain assimilated eligible Jewish young men and women can appear, at their parents’ request, in hopes of finding a good match to marry.
Ballyhoo is set, as well, only a few months after Hitler’s army invaded Poland. But as a number of Ballyhoo characters suggest, Hitler and Europe are so far away to be of critical concern. Theater J’s production could have easily been a creaky ride back into yesteryear, to be enjoyed by a select audience. Thankfully, with McGinnis’ “don’t look back” directing talents, the acting chops and charms of her admirable cast, and the gorgeous production design, there is plenty to admire at this Ballyhoo. McGinnis is no mere traffic cop giving blocking cues to a veteran cast. Rather, she guides a terrific balance between banter and sharp pokes; between humorous one-liners and meaty inter-family squabbles centered on Jewish self-loathing; between meticulously timed on-stage freezes and drop-dead slow burns. She has a clear sense of all-important character development in a play in which nuance is the right call. Let me add that the mood setting musical transitions during scene changes are gems with Justin Schmitz’s sound design.
The scrumptious Ballyhood cast includes a bevy of abundant talent.
Shayna Blass is Lala Levy, a 20-something daughter with big dreams, now living at home after dropping out of college. Blass gives her Lala a nervous quality; an awkward, high-maintenance demeanor. As the play progresses Blass evolves Lala into someone the audience can sympathize with, even having several delicious moments that I will not ruin for you even with a spoiler-alert. Just be alert for stairs and one special gown. (Thank you costume designer Kelsey Hunt for the rapture you gave me when that gown came into view).
Lala is up against her sharp tongued, bitterly disappointed widowed mother Boo Levy. Boo is of little help, let alone sympathy, for her Lala. Played to a sharp point by Susan Rome, Boo is full of snappy one liners that could melt permafrost. When she delivers several nasty pejoratives for Jews, the DCJCC audiences shuddered into silence before letting out a breath.
Opposite of the Lala and Boo characters are the widowed Reba Freitag and her daughter Sunny Freitag. Reba, who is Boo’s sister-in-law, is played with appeal by Julie-Ann Elliott. She softly presents a dizzy wit. Madeline Rose Burrows portrays daughter Sunny, a brainy, assured, independent college student. As Sunny, Burrows throws off one comic line about self-loathing that brought the House down into knowing laughter about itself.
Sasha Olinick is a pleasure to watch as Adolph Freitag, a bachelor and owner of the business that provides the financial resources for the family’s upper-class existence. An avid newspaper reader, Hitler is not far away to him. He also brings home a young man who sets some hearts a flutter and annoys others. The new young man is Joe Farkas, a Northerner from New York City. As portrayed by Zack Powell, Joe is brash and confident, at least by Atlanta Jewish standard. He is a young man in a hurry to succeed. He does not fear or hide his Jewish roots and traditions. He is aware and fears what Hitler will do for he has relatives still in Europe. And, there is Josh Adams as Peachy Weil a young man with an over-powering comic smart-aleck attitude on the look-out for a wife.
The Last Night of Ballyhoo will especially enthrall those for whom what is depicted on stage has a strong affinity in their own personal lives. It is has a final curtain that can be expected to bring knowing misty eyes to many. For others, Theater J’s production of The Last Night at Ballyhoo is winning and worthy with a director and cast more than up to the challenge and toll that time has taken on the Uhry script.
If you are not familiar with Ballyhoo, it is Alfred Uhry’s look back into Southern Jewish nostalgia based upon his own life’s experiences. The Last Night of Ballyhoo was the winner of the 1997 Tony Award for Best Play (in one of the weaker years for new plays on Broadway). So, what has Alfred Uhury given theater goers? It is the December 1939. The Freitag’s and Levy’s are at home getting their upper-class digs ready for Christmas. Well, up to a point; a star on the top of the Christmas tree is a bit too “goyish.” The Atlanta movie premiere of the soon-to-be mega hit Gone With the Wind has also brought hoopla.
And then there is a perennial local Southern custom: the Ballyhoo. It is an extravagant, invitation-only, country club event so certain assimilated eligible Jewish young men and women can appear, at their parents’ request, in hopes of finding a good match to marry.
Ballyhoo is set, as well, only a few months after Hitler’s army invaded Poland. But as a number of Ballyhoo characters suggest, Hitler and Europe are so far away to be of critical concern. Theater J’s production could have easily been a creaky ride back into yesteryear, to be enjoyed by a select audience. Thankfully, with McGinnis’ “don’t look back” directing talents, the acting chops and charms of her admirable cast, and the gorgeous production design, there is plenty to admire at this Ballyhoo. McGinnis is no mere traffic cop giving blocking cues to a veteran cast. Rather, she guides a terrific balance between banter and sharp pokes; between humorous one-liners and meaty inter-family squabbles centered on Jewish self-loathing; between meticulously timed on-stage freezes and drop-dead slow burns. She has a clear sense of all-important character development in a play in which nuance is the right call. Let me add that the mood setting musical transitions during scene changes are gems with Justin Schmitz’s sound design.
The scrumptious Ballyhood cast includes a bevy of abundant talent.
Shayna Blass is Lala Levy, a 20-something daughter with big dreams, now living at home after dropping out of college. Blass gives her Lala a nervous quality; an awkward, high-maintenance demeanor. As the play progresses Blass evolves Lala into someone the audience can sympathize with, even having several delicious moments that I will not ruin for you even with a spoiler-alert. Just be alert for stairs and one special gown. (Thank you costume designer Kelsey Hunt for the rapture you gave me when that gown came into view).
Lala is up against her sharp tongued, bitterly disappointed widowed mother Boo Levy. Boo is of little help, let alone sympathy, for her Lala. Played to a sharp point by Susan Rome, Boo is full of snappy one liners that could melt permafrost. When she delivers several nasty pejoratives for Jews, the DCJCC audiences shuddered into silence before letting out a breath.
Opposite of the Lala and Boo characters are the widowed Reba Freitag and her daughter Sunny Freitag. Reba, who is Boo’s sister-in-law, is played with appeal by Julie-Ann Elliott. She softly presents a dizzy wit. Madeline Rose Burrows portrays daughter Sunny, a brainy, assured, independent college student. As Sunny, Burrows throws off one comic line about self-loathing that brought the House down into knowing laughter about itself.
Sasha Olinick is a pleasure to watch as Adolph Freitag, a bachelor and owner of the business that provides the financial resources for the family’s upper-class existence. An avid newspaper reader, Hitler is not far away to him. He also brings home a young man who sets some hearts a flutter and annoys others. The new young man is Joe Farkas, a Northerner from New York City. As portrayed by Zack Powell, Joe is brash and confident, at least by Atlanta Jewish standard. He is a young man in a hurry to succeed. He does not fear or hide his Jewish roots and traditions. He is aware and fears what Hitler will do for he has relatives still in Europe. And, there is Josh Adams as Peachy Weil a young man with an over-powering comic smart-aleck attitude on the look-out for a wife.
The Last Night of Ballyhoo will especially enthrall those for whom what is depicted on stage has a strong affinity in their own personal lives. It is has a final curtain that can be expected to bring knowing misty eyes to many. For others, Theater J’s production of The Last Night at Ballyhoo is winning and worthy with a director and cast more than up to the challenge and toll that time has taken on the Uhry script.
BWW Review: ROBIN HOOD at Imagination Stage
by Elliot Lanes
Apr. 23, 2018
The tale of Robin Hood has provided source material for several famous screen adaptations over the years, including the classic Hollywood film with Errol Flynn and the Disney animated feature that portrayed all the characters as animals. With the exception of Young Robin Hood at Round House Theatre a few years back, there really hasn't been a good stage treatment for the guy who steals from the rich to give to the poor...until now.
Imagination Stage's current production of Robin Hood features everything that a good Theatre for Young Audiences (TYA) production should have - a superb cast and design team, great direction from the company's Founding Artistic Director Janet Stanford, and sword play. What more do you need?
Greg Banks' thoroughly engaging adaptation begins with bucket drummer Bob (Jon Jon Johnson) providing us with a little pre-show serenade. Then we meet several homeless types out for a buck - one guy asks you to sign his jacket and then charges you a dollar. These ragtag types transition to playing characters in the story as we go to Sherwood Forest to join Robin Hood (Christopher Dinolfo) and his band of merry men to fight off the Sheriff of Nottingham (Michael Glenn).
As we progress through the story, we learn how Robin and Maid Marian (Alina Collins Maldonado) met and how the very vein and egotistical Prince John (Mick DePinto) plot to capture Robin. As you might guess, this does not go very well for the bad guys. There's also an opportunity to learn how several of the merry men came to be. This includes Much (also played by Maldonado) whose father was killed by the sheriff, and of course, Little John (Jason B. McIntosh). Without giving too much more of the plot away, I'll say that by the end, it's a sure bet that the audience will be cheering.
Performance wise, this cast is as strong as any I've seen in a TYA show for some time. An agile Christopher Dinolfo carries the show the beginning to end as our hero Robin Hood. He has to climb and leap all over James Fouchard's set so agility is a must. You can help but root from him all the way through the play. Alina Collins Maldonado showcases her distinct and strong stage presence once again as Maid Marian and Much. I've seen her in four shows in the last year and a half and her performances always wow me. This one is no exception.
Nick DePinto (who also serves as musical director) wonderful, slimy performance as Prince John. The egotistical and vein take on this character is perfect and his musicianship is an added bonus. Jason B. McIntosh is endearing and Will Scarlett, another member of Robin Hood's tribe. He is imposing when needed, especially when protecting his boss. Jon Jon Johnson is a multi-talented performer and musician. In this case, he plays Hood's tribesman Friar Tuck, but also plays violin and (as mentioned earlier) bucket drums. Last. but certainly not least, is Michael Glenn. He gives a mammoth Shakespearean-like take of the Sheriff of Nottingham. Even though you want to see Glenn's character get his, you can't help but marvel at Glenn's performance. It's that strong.
Production elements match the performances.
James Fouchard's intricate set includes a full-size tree for Dinolfo to make his first entrance as Robin, and a high platform that acts a tower dungeon. Kendra Rai has solved the problem of distinguishing one character from another when a single actor plays multiple roles without gobs and gobs of costume changes. Under dressing always works in the theater, and here it is used to full advantage. Be sure to look out for Dinolfo's transformation at the final archery match. Zachery Gilbert's lighting creates a moody Sherwood Forest.
Sound Designer Justin Schmitz adds the final touches with an atmospheric soundscape that enhances rather than intrudes. That is always the sign of a good designer.
Kelly and Mollye Maxner's fight and movement choreography are an added bonus. I've seen some productions of Robin Hood where there are no fights at all. Director Janet Stanford's staging is sharp, well-paced, and does exactly what it should do. It tells the story straight forward without any added "improvements," which doesn't always happen in a TYA setting. Brava Ms. Stanford.
Robin Hood at Imagination Stage has it all. All hail!!!!
Imagination Stage's current production of Robin Hood features everything that a good Theatre for Young Audiences (TYA) production should have - a superb cast and design team, great direction from the company's Founding Artistic Director Janet Stanford, and sword play. What more do you need?
Greg Banks' thoroughly engaging adaptation begins with bucket drummer Bob (Jon Jon Johnson) providing us with a little pre-show serenade. Then we meet several homeless types out for a buck - one guy asks you to sign his jacket and then charges you a dollar. These ragtag types transition to playing characters in the story as we go to Sherwood Forest to join Robin Hood (Christopher Dinolfo) and his band of merry men to fight off the Sheriff of Nottingham (Michael Glenn).
As we progress through the story, we learn how Robin and Maid Marian (Alina Collins Maldonado) met and how the very vein and egotistical Prince John (Mick DePinto) plot to capture Robin. As you might guess, this does not go very well for the bad guys. There's also an opportunity to learn how several of the merry men came to be. This includes Much (also played by Maldonado) whose father was killed by the sheriff, and of course, Little John (Jason B. McIntosh). Without giving too much more of the plot away, I'll say that by the end, it's a sure bet that the audience will be cheering.
Performance wise, this cast is as strong as any I've seen in a TYA show for some time. An agile Christopher Dinolfo carries the show the beginning to end as our hero Robin Hood. He has to climb and leap all over James Fouchard's set so agility is a must. You can help but root from him all the way through the play. Alina Collins Maldonado showcases her distinct and strong stage presence once again as Maid Marian and Much. I've seen her in four shows in the last year and a half and her performances always wow me. This one is no exception.
Nick DePinto (who also serves as musical director) wonderful, slimy performance as Prince John. The egotistical and vein take on this character is perfect and his musicianship is an added bonus. Jason B. McIntosh is endearing and Will Scarlett, another member of Robin Hood's tribe. He is imposing when needed, especially when protecting his boss. Jon Jon Johnson is a multi-talented performer and musician. In this case, he plays Hood's tribesman Friar Tuck, but also plays violin and (as mentioned earlier) bucket drums. Last. but certainly not least, is Michael Glenn. He gives a mammoth Shakespearean-like take of the Sheriff of Nottingham. Even though you want to see Glenn's character get his, you can't help but marvel at Glenn's performance. It's that strong.
Production elements match the performances.
James Fouchard's intricate set includes a full-size tree for Dinolfo to make his first entrance as Robin, and a high platform that acts a tower dungeon. Kendra Rai has solved the problem of distinguishing one character from another when a single actor plays multiple roles without gobs and gobs of costume changes. Under dressing always works in the theater, and here it is used to full advantage. Be sure to look out for Dinolfo's transformation at the final archery match. Zachery Gilbert's lighting creates a moody Sherwood Forest.
Sound Designer Justin Schmitz adds the final touches with an atmospheric soundscape that enhances rather than intrudes. That is always the sign of a good designer.
Kelly and Mollye Maxner's fight and movement choreography are an added bonus. I've seen some productions of Robin Hood where there are no fights at all. Director Janet Stanford's staging is sharp, well-paced, and does exactly what it should do. It tells the story straight forward without any added "improvements," which doesn't always happen in a TYA setting. Brava Ms. Stanford.
Robin Hood at Imagination Stage has it all. All hail!!!!
BWW Review: ME…JANE THE DREAMS AND ADVENTURES OF YOUNG JANE GOODALL
at Kennedy Center
by Elliot Lanes
Nov. 21, 2017
What happens when the crème de la crème of the DC theater community come together to create a brand-new theater for young audiences musical at the Kennedy Center? The answer is theatrical magic, that's what. Director Aaron Posner has assembled a powerhouse ensemble of performers and designers to bring Me...Jane The Dreams and Adventures of Young Jane Goodall to life and boy did they ever. Picture a production that features performers such as Erin Weaver, Tracy Lynn Olivera, and Sam Ludwig, and a design team that includes set designer Paige Hathaway and sound designer Justin Schmitz. ...all in one place. Sometimes the theater gods smile upon all of us.
Based on the Patrick McDonnell's book, Me ...Jane The Dreams and Adventures of Young Jane Goodall follows the story of Young Jane (Erin Weaver) who has a big dream and constantly is telling her mom (Tracy Lynn Olivera) about it. Her dream is to go to Africa and work with animals in their own habitat. Jane has a particular love for chimpanzees as evidenced by the stuffed one named Jubilee that she takes everywhere. Seeing as Jane lives on a farm, her mother suggests that if she wants to follow her dream, she should start exploring how animals behave right here at home. Thus begins a wonderful musical journey.
First stop is the hen house for a lively production number called "Be a Chicken," which features Sam Ludwig, Awa Sal Secka, and Eymard Cabling doing some delightful choreography by Christopher d'Amboise. Next up is a group of squirrels preparing for their "Spring Feast." These squirrels have really good appetites as the feast not only includes the usual nuts and berries, but a pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. Last, but not certainly not least, is a situation with Jane's dog Rusty (played by Cabling) and a manipulative professor named Scroop (played by Ludwig). While Scroop is book smart and possesses many advanced degrees, he only knows what he reads in those books and observes in a lab. He tries to convince Jane that Rusty is "Just a Dog" without any feelings. This presents a dilemma for Jane. Does she trust her instincts that Rusty is just like a person with feelings or believe the professor's theory? You'll have to see the show to find out.
L-R Tracy Lynn Olivera and Erin Weaver in Me...Jane The Dreams and Adventures of Young Jane Goodall. Photo by Teresa Wood.Director Aaron Posner co- adapted McDonnell's book with him along with composer/lyricist Andy Mitton. True to form, Posner does a yeoman's job of moving the material from page to stage. From beginning to end the material is fully engaging and keeps both kids and adults interested in what happens next.
Andy Mitton's score features several big numbers, including the very catchy production number "Animals, Animals, Animals." It's one of those songs that will have you leaving the theater singing it. That's a rarity these days. Other musical standouts include "Trust Your Instincts" and "What are You Going to do Today?" If anything in the score needs to be improved it would probably be the actual musical track that the singers perform to - the basic rhythm section sound actually does the strong score a bit of an injustice by not allowing it to be realized to its full potential. The score was co-arranged by Mitton and musical director dynamo William Yanesh. And speaking of sound, Justin Schmitz's environmental soundtrack once again proves why he is one of the fastest growing designer names in the DC area. You know a good designer when his work enhances rather than intrudes upon the action. Paige Hathaway's top drawer set design features places for the company to climb around as the animals and a tree house-like structure for Jane to be alone with Jubilee and read. Andrew Cissna's terrific lighting breaks the fourth wall of the Family Theater and turns the auditorium into Jane's jungle. Helen Q. Huang's imaginative costumes range from squirrel head pieces to all black for the naysayers - Jane's neighbors. Olivia Sebesky's projections don't overpower, but rather enhance Hathaway's scenic elements. With projection taking the place of real scenery more and more in theater, it's great to see a balance between the two.
The company of Me...Jane The Dreams and Adventures of Young Jane Goodall. Photo by Teresa Wood.I also don't think you'll find a better group of performers for this material.
As Young Jane, Erin Weaver again proves why she is one of DC's brightest stars. She fully embodies her character with all of her inquisitiveness and a true love for all animals. In other words, she captures a young Jane Goddall perfectly. Tracy Lynn Olivera, as Mom and a rather hungry squirrel, never ceases to amaze. Her always powerful voice and strong acting is something many of us treasure every time she steps on a stage. This show is no exception. Sam Ludwig shows great versatility in his many roles as does Awa Sal Secka. Together as the Crouch's, two naysayers who scoff at Jane's optimistic outlook for her future, the pair delivers the certain upper crust snark that you just hate.
Eymard Cabling as Rusty just makes you say "AWW, that's adorable."
Me...Jane The Dreams and Adventures of Young Jane Goodall is a fantastic non-holiday, holiday attraction. If you want big musical numbers, you've got those. You want fine acting and production values, you've got those. You want something with some substance, it's got that. You want to see director Aaron Posner keep up his winning track record of never putting on a bad show, well then get yourself and your whole family to the Kennedy Center before this show swings away.
Based on the Patrick McDonnell's book, Me ...Jane The Dreams and Adventures of Young Jane Goodall follows the story of Young Jane (Erin Weaver) who has a big dream and constantly is telling her mom (Tracy Lynn Olivera) about it. Her dream is to go to Africa and work with animals in their own habitat. Jane has a particular love for chimpanzees as evidenced by the stuffed one named Jubilee that she takes everywhere. Seeing as Jane lives on a farm, her mother suggests that if she wants to follow her dream, she should start exploring how animals behave right here at home. Thus begins a wonderful musical journey.
First stop is the hen house for a lively production number called "Be a Chicken," which features Sam Ludwig, Awa Sal Secka, and Eymard Cabling doing some delightful choreography by Christopher d'Amboise. Next up is a group of squirrels preparing for their "Spring Feast." These squirrels have really good appetites as the feast not only includes the usual nuts and berries, but a pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. Last, but not certainly not least, is a situation with Jane's dog Rusty (played by Cabling) and a manipulative professor named Scroop (played by Ludwig). While Scroop is book smart and possesses many advanced degrees, he only knows what he reads in those books and observes in a lab. He tries to convince Jane that Rusty is "Just a Dog" without any feelings. This presents a dilemma for Jane. Does she trust her instincts that Rusty is just like a person with feelings or believe the professor's theory? You'll have to see the show to find out.
L-R Tracy Lynn Olivera and Erin Weaver in Me...Jane The Dreams and Adventures of Young Jane Goodall. Photo by Teresa Wood.Director Aaron Posner co- adapted McDonnell's book with him along with composer/lyricist Andy Mitton. True to form, Posner does a yeoman's job of moving the material from page to stage. From beginning to end the material is fully engaging and keeps both kids and adults interested in what happens next.
Andy Mitton's score features several big numbers, including the very catchy production number "Animals, Animals, Animals." It's one of those songs that will have you leaving the theater singing it. That's a rarity these days. Other musical standouts include "Trust Your Instincts" and "What are You Going to do Today?" If anything in the score needs to be improved it would probably be the actual musical track that the singers perform to - the basic rhythm section sound actually does the strong score a bit of an injustice by not allowing it to be realized to its full potential. The score was co-arranged by Mitton and musical director dynamo William Yanesh. And speaking of sound, Justin Schmitz's environmental soundtrack once again proves why he is one of the fastest growing designer names in the DC area. You know a good designer when his work enhances rather than intrudes upon the action. Paige Hathaway's top drawer set design features places for the company to climb around as the animals and a tree house-like structure for Jane to be alone with Jubilee and read. Andrew Cissna's terrific lighting breaks the fourth wall of the Family Theater and turns the auditorium into Jane's jungle. Helen Q. Huang's imaginative costumes range from squirrel head pieces to all black for the naysayers - Jane's neighbors. Olivia Sebesky's projections don't overpower, but rather enhance Hathaway's scenic elements. With projection taking the place of real scenery more and more in theater, it's great to see a balance between the two.
The company of Me...Jane The Dreams and Adventures of Young Jane Goodall. Photo by Teresa Wood.I also don't think you'll find a better group of performers for this material.
As Young Jane, Erin Weaver again proves why she is one of DC's brightest stars. She fully embodies her character with all of her inquisitiveness and a true love for all animals. In other words, she captures a young Jane Goddall perfectly. Tracy Lynn Olivera, as Mom and a rather hungry squirrel, never ceases to amaze. Her always powerful voice and strong acting is something many of us treasure every time she steps on a stage. This show is no exception. Sam Ludwig shows great versatility in his many roles as does Awa Sal Secka. Together as the Crouch's, two naysayers who scoff at Jane's optimistic outlook for her future, the pair delivers the certain upper crust snark that you just hate.
Eymard Cabling as Rusty just makes you say "AWW, that's adorable."
Me...Jane The Dreams and Adventures of Young Jane Goodall is a fantastic non-holiday, holiday attraction. If you want big musical numbers, you've got those. You want fine acting and production values, you've got those. You want something with some substance, it's got that. You want to see director Aaron Posner keep up his winning track record of never putting on a bad show, well then get yourself and your whole family to the Kennedy Center before this show swings away.
Me … Jane: The Dreams & Adventures of Young Jane Goodall (review)
by Christopher Henley
November 22, 2017
One of the most poignant moments I’ve recently seen at the theatre occurs (no spoiler alert needed!) at the end of Me…Jane: The Dreams & Adventures of Young Jane Goodall, which opened this past weekend at Kennedy Center’s Theater for Young Audiences. A sequence of photographs of Jane Goodall, whose youth is the subject of the piece, appears projected on a screen behind the stage, and is capped by a short videotaped greeting from the great woman herself. It’s a wonderfully graceful way of underlining the fact, for the children in the audience as well as the adults, that the coming of age we have been witnessing for the previous hour is a true story; or, as my son Aksel would put it, “it’s for real life.”
And it’s an emotionally potent moment, not only because of the fun we feel in recognizing the realness of the character and the story we’ve just been experiencing; but also because of the stagecraft involved. We’ve been watching people on-stage in front of us tell the story of a figure who is larger than life; and then, suddenly, there she is — literally larger than life. And she speaks to us at first not in English, but in (presumably) Ape, giving the introduction an exoticness that is somehow lovely while at the same time giving us goosebumps. And it mattered to me that I was taking my kids not just to an afternoon of theatre, but also to a lesson, albeit a very entertaining one, about a person — and a part of the world — that I’m eager for them to learn about. In this city that has a lot of wonderful options for young audiences (and I’ve seen some dynamite stuff already this season), Me…Jane offers something unique among the available choices. It’s easy to become a bit frustrated by the plethora of royalty that inhabit kid lit, on both page and stage. Much of it is terrific, but it makes me crazy when, so often, you hear things like, “For every young girl with a dream, there’s a Disney Princess to show her it’s possible.”
Erin Weaver, Eymard Cabling, Sam Ludwig, and Awa Sal Secka in Me … Jane at The Kennedy Center (Photo courtesy of The Kennedy CenterHow refreshing to encounter a play for kids in which self-actualization and empowerment aren’t dependent on being born with a title. I have to confess that I haven’t thought about Jane Goodall in decades, although that photo montage brought memories of 60s spreads in copies of National Geographic flooding back. And, as the parent of five year-old twins, I know how important it is for kids to know about (and to school each other about the various facts concerning) animals. Kids love animals; and Me…Jane is as satisfying for them as a trip to the zoo. The Kennedy Center’s Theater for Young Audiences show is based on a book of the same name by Patrick McDonnell, who collaborated on its adaptation with Aaron Posner, who also directs, and Andy Mitton, who also wrote the songs. We meet Jane and her encouraging Mother and observe how the natural world and its inhabitants grow, for Jane, from interest to obsession. We see her engage (somewhat fancifully) with the critters a young girl in mid-century Britain might encounter.
A neighbor couple is on hand to discourage and disdain the interests she pursues. One gives her an academic tome on the subject, which she dutifully reads. As the young Jane resists the expert’s judgements because they do not conform to her own experience with her beloved dog Rusty, the play moves to its climax: she learns to trust in her own experience over conventional wisdom, and a primatologist is born.
The company of Me … Jane at The Kennedy Center (Photo: Teresa Wood)An exceptional team has been convened to present this world premiere commission for Kennedy Center. The direction, design, and performances are superb.
It’s the rare DC theatre-goer who has not admired the work of Director/Adapter Posner. I never saw his Stupid Fucking Bird (from The Seagull), but saw and very much admired Life Sucks (from Uncle Vanya), which I thought was striking in the way in which it channeled the essence of Chekhov’s original while at the same time that it also created a new, distinctly contemporary play. Posner is responsible not only for the effectiveness of that gorgeously powerful end moment, but also for how smoothly the talents that he has assembled here blend. I loved the way he subtly associates the audience with Jane throughout the piece: the nay-sayers point at us; house lights tweak up as the lyric “just like you” recurs. Choreographer Christopher D’Amboise’s work is delightfully inventive. Presumably, in addition to the dance work during the songs, he also worked with Posner on the animal characterizations, as actors channel squirrels, giraffes, penguins, chickens, etc. I guess a children’s show that runs an hour can’t be said to have an “eleven o’clock number,” but the dance sequence during the show’s climactic song is truly fabulous.
Scenic Designer Paige Hathaway and Projection Designer Olivia Sebesky cleverly animate Jane’s notebooks — it’s as if she is drawing directly on the back wall.
Music Director William Yanesh, obviously working with impressive vocal talent, has made sure everyone sounds terrific. The hard-working cast is smooth as silk as they keep up a hectic pace of singing and dancing while frequently changing character and clothes; they even add percussion during one nifty sequence.
Helen Q. Huang designed the costumes, which deftly mix period looks with neutral colors for the actors-as-animals. Justin Schmitz’ sound-scape almost subliminally plants in our heads the allure of the jungle for Jane. The accent work is impeccable. I was particularly impressed when Jane’s Mother said “drawing”; she dropped in an “r” where only the Brits would pronounce it, so that the word became “draw-ring.” Particular kudos for that bit of accent accuracy!
Erin Weaver as young Jane is just outstanding. It’s always a treat, going to stuff aimed at the young, when an adult playing a child captures the essence of youth without pushing the performance into caricature. Oh, and, by the way, she also serves the production as its Dramaturg.
Tracy Lynn Olivera, fresh off the genius reviews she received in Signature Theatre’s A Little Night Music, is Jane’s Mother, but also has a delightful turn as a taciturn chipmunk. Sam Ludwig has that Astaire quality of making strenuous dancing look effortless, and he also has a really fun turn as a plummy-voiced academic.
Awa Sal Secka’s number as a nervous chicken is a show highlight. Eymard Cabling rounds out the cast as Jane’s dog and he’s a big part of the effectiveness of the climactic sequence.
I wasn’t thrilled, I must admit, by Mitton’s score, which sounds, on first hearing, like much other post-Sondheim theatre music. Of course, sometimes, upon repeated hearing, what at first sounds generic can engage you; and, on the way out, I heard a three year-old singing one of the early numbers, so I guess the score meets the Jerry Herman “humability” standard.
That singing toddler wasn’t the only happy kid coming out of the Kennedy Center Family Theater. And many of them were accompanied by equally happy adults.
And it’s an emotionally potent moment, not only because of the fun we feel in recognizing the realness of the character and the story we’ve just been experiencing; but also because of the stagecraft involved. We’ve been watching people on-stage in front of us tell the story of a figure who is larger than life; and then, suddenly, there she is — literally larger than life. And she speaks to us at first not in English, but in (presumably) Ape, giving the introduction an exoticness that is somehow lovely while at the same time giving us goosebumps. And it mattered to me that I was taking my kids not just to an afternoon of theatre, but also to a lesson, albeit a very entertaining one, about a person — and a part of the world — that I’m eager for them to learn about. In this city that has a lot of wonderful options for young audiences (and I’ve seen some dynamite stuff already this season), Me…Jane offers something unique among the available choices. It’s easy to become a bit frustrated by the plethora of royalty that inhabit kid lit, on both page and stage. Much of it is terrific, but it makes me crazy when, so often, you hear things like, “For every young girl with a dream, there’s a Disney Princess to show her it’s possible.”
Erin Weaver, Eymard Cabling, Sam Ludwig, and Awa Sal Secka in Me … Jane at The Kennedy Center (Photo courtesy of The Kennedy CenterHow refreshing to encounter a play for kids in which self-actualization and empowerment aren’t dependent on being born with a title. I have to confess that I haven’t thought about Jane Goodall in decades, although that photo montage brought memories of 60s spreads in copies of National Geographic flooding back. And, as the parent of five year-old twins, I know how important it is for kids to know about (and to school each other about the various facts concerning) animals. Kids love animals; and Me…Jane is as satisfying for them as a trip to the zoo. The Kennedy Center’s Theater for Young Audiences show is based on a book of the same name by Patrick McDonnell, who collaborated on its adaptation with Aaron Posner, who also directs, and Andy Mitton, who also wrote the songs. We meet Jane and her encouraging Mother and observe how the natural world and its inhabitants grow, for Jane, from interest to obsession. We see her engage (somewhat fancifully) with the critters a young girl in mid-century Britain might encounter.
A neighbor couple is on hand to discourage and disdain the interests she pursues. One gives her an academic tome on the subject, which she dutifully reads. As the young Jane resists the expert’s judgements because they do not conform to her own experience with her beloved dog Rusty, the play moves to its climax: she learns to trust in her own experience over conventional wisdom, and a primatologist is born.
The company of Me … Jane at The Kennedy Center (Photo: Teresa Wood)An exceptional team has been convened to present this world premiere commission for Kennedy Center. The direction, design, and performances are superb.
It’s the rare DC theatre-goer who has not admired the work of Director/Adapter Posner. I never saw his Stupid Fucking Bird (from The Seagull), but saw and very much admired Life Sucks (from Uncle Vanya), which I thought was striking in the way in which it channeled the essence of Chekhov’s original while at the same time that it also created a new, distinctly contemporary play. Posner is responsible not only for the effectiveness of that gorgeously powerful end moment, but also for how smoothly the talents that he has assembled here blend. I loved the way he subtly associates the audience with Jane throughout the piece: the nay-sayers point at us; house lights tweak up as the lyric “just like you” recurs. Choreographer Christopher D’Amboise’s work is delightfully inventive. Presumably, in addition to the dance work during the songs, he also worked with Posner on the animal characterizations, as actors channel squirrels, giraffes, penguins, chickens, etc. I guess a children’s show that runs an hour can’t be said to have an “eleven o’clock number,” but the dance sequence during the show’s climactic song is truly fabulous.
Scenic Designer Paige Hathaway and Projection Designer Olivia Sebesky cleverly animate Jane’s notebooks — it’s as if she is drawing directly on the back wall.
Music Director William Yanesh, obviously working with impressive vocal talent, has made sure everyone sounds terrific. The hard-working cast is smooth as silk as they keep up a hectic pace of singing and dancing while frequently changing character and clothes; they even add percussion during one nifty sequence.
Helen Q. Huang designed the costumes, which deftly mix period looks with neutral colors for the actors-as-animals. Justin Schmitz’ sound-scape almost subliminally plants in our heads the allure of the jungle for Jane. The accent work is impeccable. I was particularly impressed when Jane’s Mother said “drawing”; she dropped in an “r” where only the Brits would pronounce it, so that the word became “draw-ring.” Particular kudos for that bit of accent accuracy!
Erin Weaver as young Jane is just outstanding. It’s always a treat, going to stuff aimed at the young, when an adult playing a child captures the essence of youth without pushing the performance into caricature. Oh, and, by the way, she also serves the production as its Dramaturg.
Tracy Lynn Olivera, fresh off the genius reviews she received in Signature Theatre’s A Little Night Music, is Jane’s Mother, but also has a delightful turn as a taciturn chipmunk. Sam Ludwig has that Astaire quality of making strenuous dancing look effortless, and he also has a really fun turn as a plummy-voiced academic.
Awa Sal Secka’s number as a nervous chicken is a show highlight. Eymard Cabling rounds out the cast as Jane’s dog and he’s a big part of the effectiveness of the climactic sequence.
I wasn’t thrilled, I must admit, by Mitton’s score, which sounds, on first hearing, like much other post-Sondheim theatre music. Of course, sometimes, upon repeated hearing, what at first sounds generic can engage you; and, on the way out, I heard a three year-old singing one of the early numbers, so I guess the score meets the Jerry Herman “humability” standard.
That singing toddler wasn’t the only happy kid coming out of the Kennedy Center Family Theater. And many of them were accompanied by equally happy adults.
BWW Review: Skillful and Fun THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH at Constellation Theatre Company
by Pamela Roberts
Jan. 16, 2018
THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH at Constellation Theatre is a thought-provoking, skillfully-rendered reminder that chaos and uncertainty are not unique to our time - or to any single time. In the sure directorial hands of Mary Hall Surface, Thornton Wilder's masterpiece is a wild time-traveling, allegorical tragicomedy, without the Pepperidge Farm and Hallmark overtones we've now come to associate with the OUR TOWN playwright.
In THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH we meet the lovely, determined Antrobus family - husband George, wife Maggie, children Henry and Gladys, and family maid Sabina. They're just an everyday family from suburban Excelsior, New Jersey. Mike and Carol Brady, Rob and Laura Petrie, we're familiar with this family - except in this meditation on human nature we begin to clue into a few quirks as we notice the pet woolly mammoth and dinosaur frolicking with scarfs as the Ice Age advances.
Winner of the 1943 Pulitzer Prize for Best Drama, THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH was written just after the conclusion of the Great Depression, as the US was fighting a war on two fronts. Far ahead of its time, the work breaks away from established theatrical conventions and mixes farce, burlesque, satire, and absurdism. "Don't forget that a few years ago we came through the depression by the skin of our teeth!" says Sabina. "One more tight squeeze like that and where will we be?" In the 75 years since Wilder penned his work, we've been faced with a few more tight squeezes echoed here from Katrina to "shithole countries" - and like the play's Ice Age and floods, we fear it or deny it, endure it, and hang on for more. Surface presents a stylized world where the action is larger than life. In her sure hands we seamlessly accept the absurdities of dad coming home from a hard day of wheel-inventing; a seaside convention of bathing beauties, pushchairs, and all creatures two-by-two; and book-filled bunker where beef cubes are not-so-legal tender. Surface is a great match with Constellation's commitment to telling epic stories in an intimate space. She and her cast are adept at toying with the grand scale and the meta-moments of speaking directly with the audience. The audience is part of the work from the very beginning as they across the set to claim their seats.
However, the pacing of Wilder's third act is longer and more dense than modern audiences are now accustomed. Wilder and Surface expertly set up passages of Aristotle, the Bible, Plato, and Spinoza, yet when the moments come those key and eternal ideas are muddy. The ensemble must take its time with these hefty passages - the crux of the work - painting better verbal pictures. To its credit, the company has been integrating recent casting changes and featured an understudy on opening night - this was the only portion where it was evident a bit more time and cohesion would be helpful. Tonya Beckman as Sabina is the glue that holds THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH together. Strong and charismatic, Beckman is ably in tune with the shifts from the heightened drama of the stage and the gritty human moments that break the fourth wall. We smile, sigh, and nod with her as the world cycles on. "We have to go on for ages and ages yet," says Sabina. "You go home. The end of this play isn't written yet."
Helen Hayes Award-winner Lolita Marie (Mrs. Antrobus) is equally solid as the matriarch dedicated the preservation of her family. Sublimating her own interests and aspirations, Mrs. Antrobus focuses all her attention on her perfect children and the higher trajectory she wants for them. Keeping the home fires burning is a literal and critical necessity. Mr. Antrobus (Steven Carpenter) is busy advancing the world - creating the wheel, the alphabet and multiplication tables. He's a leader and a doer. Yet although he's been solidly married for 5,000 years, it is easy to be tempted when Sabina says, "...most people have no insides at all. Now that you're President you'll see that. There's a kind of secret society at the top of the world - like you and me - that knows this. The world was made for us." Carpenter mixes solidity and sureness with a light touch - such as when he admonishes the dinosaur to get off his treasured suburban lawn.
The Antrobus' two children, Henry (Dallas Tolentino) and Gladys (Malinda Kathleen Reese) are the focus of their parents' hopes and disappointment. Even with a name-change from Cain to Henry, we find that no one can put aside the death of favored son Abel at the hand of his brother. Gladys strives for placid perfection. Tolentino reveals a heart-breaking lost boy, controlled by anger and jealousy. Reese evolves into a person who must assume the responsibilities of the next generation. Ensemble member Lilian Oben has great strength and verve in her second act depiction of the fortune teller. She shows wonderful humor and depth; her pacing and energy is sure, making her scenes fun and memorable.
THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH has juicy cameos for its talented ensemble: Colin Connor (Frederick/Fred Bailey), Natalie Cutcher (Ivy), Christopher Gillespie (Mr. Tremayne), Ben Lauer (Dolly/Broadcast Official), Mary Miller-Booker (Broadcast Official/Hester), Gerrad Alex Taylor (Telegraph Delivery/Interviewer); at the reviewed performance, understudy Billie Krishawn appeared in place of Jenna Berk as the Stage Manager. The ensemble successfully balances making each role unique while blending as a cohesive whole.
Scenic and Lighting Designer A.J. Guban should earn a Helen Hayes Award solely for the changeover between the second and third acts. The smooth and intricate evolution from Atlantic City boardwalks to war-pocked Frank Lloyd Wright was its own 90-second display of wonder, surprise, and intricate choreography. Guban has created a Wright-inspired middle-American home. Wright's "Usonian" aspirational style for the everyday people, which features natural materials like stone, wood, brick, and art glass, has wonderful resonance with Wilder's script. Plus, it's absolutely beautiful to behold.
Guban works here in the round rather than Source's proscenium set-up used recently in his sets for AVENUE Q or JOURNEY TO THE WEST. It's a successful choice, inviting the audience in and allowing great use of a fireplace, dock, and underground bunker. Kudos to the actors who use a ladder to access some entrances. Guban's lighting successfully conveys the advancing cataclysmic changes that ice, flood, or war create. These design elements work successfully in tandem is Justin Schmitz's sound design. From Depression-era big band and booming radio voices to the whoosh and thrum of war, Schmitz gives us a sense of the time, place, and stakes. Props designed by Jimmy Stubbs work well in this stylized world.
Matthew Aldwin McGee has had some great opportunities to create or manipulate a wide range of the puppets seen of late on DC stages - from Constellation's AVENUE Q to Imagination Stage's BFG. As Puppet Designer of THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH, McGee's puppets add great whimsey and humor. The first act's dinosaur and woolly mammoth are memorable highlights. Casey Kaleba choreographed the fights in this highly physical production. Frank Labovitz's costumes are great Mid-century fun - aprons, wing-tips, bathing costumes, yellow slickers worthy of the Gordon's fisherman, and scandalous stockings. There are plenty of Nordic hygge layers T. Ward off the Ice Age chill.
THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH is a rich and provocative allegory of the endless shortcomings of human nature. The Antrobus family steadily attempts to push forward, only to continue to be tripped up by ego, anger, jealously, temptation. Luckily, we humans are spared by love, empathy, curiosity, community. As Sabina cautions, "my advice to you is not to inquire into why or whither, but to enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plate" - relish THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH while it's dished up at Constellation Theatre Company.
In THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH we meet the lovely, determined Antrobus family - husband George, wife Maggie, children Henry and Gladys, and family maid Sabina. They're just an everyday family from suburban Excelsior, New Jersey. Mike and Carol Brady, Rob and Laura Petrie, we're familiar with this family - except in this meditation on human nature we begin to clue into a few quirks as we notice the pet woolly mammoth and dinosaur frolicking with scarfs as the Ice Age advances.
Winner of the 1943 Pulitzer Prize for Best Drama, THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH was written just after the conclusion of the Great Depression, as the US was fighting a war on two fronts. Far ahead of its time, the work breaks away from established theatrical conventions and mixes farce, burlesque, satire, and absurdism. "Don't forget that a few years ago we came through the depression by the skin of our teeth!" says Sabina. "One more tight squeeze like that and where will we be?" In the 75 years since Wilder penned his work, we've been faced with a few more tight squeezes echoed here from Katrina to "shithole countries" - and like the play's Ice Age and floods, we fear it or deny it, endure it, and hang on for more. Surface presents a stylized world where the action is larger than life. In her sure hands we seamlessly accept the absurdities of dad coming home from a hard day of wheel-inventing; a seaside convention of bathing beauties, pushchairs, and all creatures two-by-two; and book-filled bunker where beef cubes are not-so-legal tender. Surface is a great match with Constellation's commitment to telling epic stories in an intimate space. She and her cast are adept at toying with the grand scale and the meta-moments of speaking directly with the audience. The audience is part of the work from the very beginning as they across the set to claim their seats.
However, the pacing of Wilder's third act is longer and more dense than modern audiences are now accustomed. Wilder and Surface expertly set up passages of Aristotle, the Bible, Plato, and Spinoza, yet when the moments come those key and eternal ideas are muddy. The ensemble must take its time with these hefty passages - the crux of the work - painting better verbal pictures. To its credit, the company has been integrating recent casting changes and featured an understudy on opening night - this was the only portion where it was evident a bit more time and cohesion would be helpful. Tonya Beckman as Sabina is the glue that holds THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH together. Strong and charismatic, Beckman is ably in tune with the shifts from the heightened drama of the stage and the gritty human moments that break the fourth wall. We smile, sigh, and nod with her as the world cycles on. "We have to go on for ages and ages yet," says Sabina. "You go home. The end of this play isn't written yet."
Helen Hayes Award-winner Lolita Marie (Mrs. Antrobus) is equally solid as the matriarch dedicated the preservation of her family. Sublimating her own interests and aspirations, Mrs. Antrobus focuses all her attention on her perfect children and the higher trajectory she wants for them. Keeping the home fires burning is a literal and critical necessity. Mr. Antrobus (Steven Carpenter) is busy advancing the world - creating the wheel, the alphabet and multiplication tables. He's a leader and a doer. Yet although he's been solidly married for 5,000 years, it is easy to be tempted when Sabina says, "...most people have no insides at all. Now that you're President you'll see that. There's a kind of secret society at the top of the world - like you and me - that knows this. The world was made for us." Carpenter mixes solidity and sureness with a light touch - such as when he admonishes the dinosaur to get off his treasured suburban lawn.
The Antrobus' two children, Henry (Dallas Tolentino) and Gladys (Malinda Kathleen Reese) are the focus of their parents' hopes and disappointment. Even with a name-change from Cain to Henry, we find that no one can put aside the death of favored son Abel at the hand of his brother. Gladys strives for placid perfection. Tolentino reveals a heart-breaking lost boy, controlled by anger and jealousy. Reese evolves into a person who must assume the responsibilities of the next generation. Ensemble member Lilian Oben has great strength and verve in her second act depiction of the fortune teller. She shows wonderful humor and depth; her pacing and energy is sure, making her scenes fun and memorable.
THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH has juicy cameos for its talented ensemble: Colin Connor (Frederick/Fred Bailey), Natalie Cutcher (Ivy), Christopher Gillespie (Mr. Tremayne), Ben Lauer (Dolly/Broadcast Official), Mary Miller-Booker (Broadcast Official/Hester), Gerrad Alex Taylor (Telegraph Delivery/Interviewer); at the reviewed performance, understudy Billie Krishawn appeared in place of Jenna Berk as the Stage Manager. The ensemble successfully balances making each role unique while blending as a cohesive whole.
Scenic and Lighting Designer A.J. Guban should earn a Helen Hayes Award solely for the changeover between the second and third acts. The smooth and intricate evolution from Atlantic City boardwalks to war-pocked Frank Lloyd Wright was its own 90-second display of wonder, surprise, and intricate choreography. Guban has created a Wright-inspired middle-American home. Wright's "Usonian" aspirational style for the everyday people, which features natural materials like stone, wood, brick, and art glass, has wonderful resonance with Wilder's script. Plus, it's absolutely beautiful to behold.
Guban works here in the round rather than Source's proscenium set-up used recently in his sets for AVENUE Q or JOURNEY TO THE WEST. It's a successful choice, inviting the audience in and allowing great use of a fireplace, dock, and underground bunker. Kudos to the actors who use a ladder to access some entrances. Guban's lighting successfully conveys the advancing cataclysmic changes that ice, flood, or war create. These design elements work successfully in tandem is Justin Schmitz's sound design. From Depression-era big band and booming radio voices to the whoosh and thrum of war, Schmitz gives us a sense of the time, place, and stakes. Props designed by Jimmy Stubbs work well in this stylized world.
Matthew Aldwin McGee has had some great opportunities to create or manipulate a wide range of the puppets seen of late on DC stages - from Constellation's AVENUE Q to Imagination Stage's BFG. As Puppet Designer of THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH, McGee's puppets add great whimsey and humor. The first act's dinosaur and woolly mammoth are memorable highlights. Casey Kaleba choreographed the fights in this highly physical production. Frank Labovitz's costumes are great Mid-century fun - aprons, wing-tips, bathing costumes, yellow slickers worthy of the Gordon's fisherman, and scandalous stockings. There are plenty of Nordic hygge layers T. Ward off the Ice Age chill.
THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH is a rich and provocative allegory of the endless shortcomings of human nature. The Antrobus family steadily attempts to push forward, only to continue to be tripped up by ego, anger, jealously, temptation. Luckily, we humans are spared by love, empathy, curiosity, community. As Sabina cautions, "my advice to you is not to inquire into why or whither, but to enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plate" - relish THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH while it's dished up at Constellation Theatre Company.
Review: ‘The Skin of Our Teeth’ at Constellation Theatre Company
By John Stoltenberg
January 15, 2018
Thornton Wilder’s allegorical paean to humanity’s survival “by the skin of our teeth” has itself become a marvel of endurance. First staged in 1942, when times were decidedly dire, the determinedly optimistic The Skin of Our Teeth was a Pulitzer Prize-winning hit on Broadway and has been steadily produced ever since. It’s a wackadoodle play, a kitchen sink of metatheatrical tricks. The actors break character and stop then restart the play, the chronology spans eons in three acts, comic bits accumulate with non-sequiturial chutzpah. Truth to tell, Wilder’s dramaturgical unorthodoxy has been matched if not surpassed by many of the very experimental playwrights he inspired. Yet this unclassifiable comedy-drama sticks around, an artifact from the past and a perennial audience pleaser—because crazily enough it’s got something to say that still needs hearing. Wilder believed the play “mostly comes alive under times of crisis.” And indeed, given the cynical mess in our government and the creeping cynicism that has ensued, the fresh and feisty version of The Skin of Our Teeth that comes alive in Constellation Theatre Company’s production proves Wilder’s point perfectly.
The basic plot is by any measure screwy. A certain George and Maggie Antrobus (Steven Carpenter and Lolita Marie)—stand-ins for the human race—have been married for 5,000 years. They live simultaneously in 1942 Excelsior, New Jersey, and in time immemorial. Which means that a radio broadcaster can announce news of the day even as George invents the wheel and a pet dino and woolly mammoth wander in. Mr. and Mrs. Antrobus have two upstart teenagers—a daughter, Gladys (Malinda Kathleen Reese), and a son, Henry (Dallas Tolentino)—and an outspoken maid, Sabina (Tonya Beckman). A gritty if offbeat family, the Antrobuses survive before our eyes the Ice Age (in Act One), a global flood (in Act Two), and a devastating war (in Act Three). The upbeat ending celebrates humanity’s resilience and ability to make new beginnings.
The fun is in the fast-paced farcical crises that beset this tenacious family, and Director Mary Hall Surface keeps up a winning momentum. Some of Wilder’s laugh lines land more mildly today than they surely did in 1942, yet a few are surprisingly contemporary zingers. And overall there’s an energetic pleasantness and cheerful inventiveness to the performances that well sustains the show’s two and a half hours.
In particular, Lolita Marie plays Mrs. Antrobus with a persuasive gravitas that consistently grounds the play, and Tonya Beckman brings to Sabina a sassy sashay that brightens each scene she’s in. Also noteworthy in the big cast are Gerrad Alex Taylor (Telegraph Boy/Interviewer/Ensemble), Collin Connor (Frederick/Fred Bailey/Ensemble), Ben Lauer (Dolly/Broadcast Official/Ensemble), Billie Krishawn (Stage Manager/Ensemble), Lilian Oben (Fortune Teller/Ensemble), Mary Miller-Booker (Broadcast Official/Hester/Ensemble), Christopher Gillespie (Mr. Tremayne/Ensemble), and Natalie Cutcher (Ivy/Ensemble).
The set by Scenic Designer A.J. Guban (who also did the lighting) is particularly clever. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright—with geometric earth tones on the floor, stacked-flagstone walls, mission furnishings—it winks at the fact that several of the great architect’s most famous houses have not withstood time well. Costume Designer Frank Labovitz walks a fine funny line between couture and cartoon, especially in the colorful second-act scene on the Atlantic City Boardwalk (where we meet a flamboyant Fortune Teller who knows both future and past). Sound Designer Justin Schmitz besides providing some delightful 1940s music tracks also makes scenes of nearby disaster a chest-pounding experience. And Puppet Designer Matthew Aldwin McGee’s antediluvian critters are cute as buttons.
The Skin of Our Teeth is a perfect pick-me-up for imperfect times. The play has been around and will likely be around longer, since its significance shelf life syncs with that of the human race. But hats off to Constellation Theatre Company for reminding us that despite current crises, we all have an important part to play in continuing what has to “go on and on for ages yet.”
The basic plot is by any measure screwy. A certain George and Maggie Antrobus (Steven Carpenter and Lolita Marie)—stand-ins for the human race—have been married for 5,000 years. They live simultaneously in 1942 Excelsior, New Jersey, and in time immemorial. Which means that a radio broadcaster can announce news of the day even as George invents the wheel and a pet dino and woolly mammoth wander in. Mr. and Mrs. Antrobus have two upstart teenagers—a daughter, Gladys (Malinda Kathleen Reese), and a son, Henry (Dallas Tolentino)—and an outspoken maid, Sabina (Tonya Beckman). A gritty if offbeat family, the Antrobuses survive before our eyes the Ice Age (in Act One), a global flood (in Act Two), and a devastating war (in Act Three). The upbeat ending celebrates humanity’s resilience and ability to make new beginnings.
The fun is in the fast-paced farcical crises that beset this tenacious family, and Director Mary Hall Surface keeps up a winning momentum. Some of Wilder’s laugh lines land more mildly today than they surely did in 1942, yet a few are surprisingly contemporary zingers. And overall there’s an energetic pleasantness and cheerful inventiveness to the performances that well sustains the show’s two and a half hours.
In particular, Lolita Marie plays Mrs. Antrobus with a persuasive gravitas that consistently grounds the play, and Tonya Beckman brings to Sabina a sassy sashay that brightens each scene she’s in. Also noteworthy in the big cast are Gerrad Alex Taylor (Telegraph Boy/Interviewer/Ensemble), Collin Connor (Frederick/Fred Bailey/Ensemble), Ben Lauer (Dolly/Broadcast Official/Ensemble), Billie Krishawn (Stage Manager/Ensemble), Lilian Oben (Fortune Teller/Ensemble), Mary Miller-Booker (Broadcast Official/Hester/Ensemble), Christopher Gillespie (Mr. Tremayne/Ensemble), and Natalie Cutcher (Ivy/Ensemble).
The set by Scenic Designer A.J. Guban (who also did the lighting) is particularly clever. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright—with geometric earth tones on the floor, stacked-flagstone walls, mission furnishings—it winks at the fact that several of the great architect’s most famous houses have not withstood time well. Costume Designer Frank Labovitz walks a fine funny line between couture and cartoon, especially in the colorful second-act scene on the Atlantic City Boardwalk (where we meet a flamboyant Fortune Teller who knows both future and past). Sound Designer Justin Schmitz besides providing some delightful 1940s music tracks also makes scenes of nearby disaster a chest-pounding experience. And Puppet Designer Matthew Aldwin McGee’s antediluvian critters are cute as buttons.
The Skin of Our Teeth is a perfect pick-me-up for imperfect times. The play has been around and will likely be around longer, since its significance shelf life syncs with that of the human race. But hats off to Constellation Theatre Company for reminding us that despite current crises, we all have an important part to play in continuing what has to “go on and on for ages yet.”
Caryl Churchill’s Top Girls at Keegan Theatre (review)
By Brett Steven Abelman
Nov 10, 2017
A look back at the past that contains a look back at the distant past, Top Girls comes across as almost more of a recently-written period play than the 1982 piece that it is. That is a credit to playwright Caryl Churchill’s balanced eye, which captures the tone of the era in which she wrote it without succumbing to its excesses. It also speaks to the deliberate intelligence that illuminates the production under director Amber Paige McGinnis – every element, whether from the 1980s or the 1200s, says something about where women find themselves today.
We might ask, as the main question out of many raised by the play, how much has changed and how much of the change is good. In the play’s opening dinner party, we’re invited to compare the new promotion of 80’s British corporate headhunter Marlene (Karina Hilleard) to the lives and careers of her guests – five historical and mythical personages. All of them – hell-pillaging legend Dull Gret (Caroline Dubberly), concubine-turned-monk Lady Nijo (Alexandra Maria Palting), world-tromping Isabella Bird (Susan Marie Rhea), obedient Chaucerian wife Patient Griselda (Amanda Forstrom), and gender-disguised Pope Joan (Jessica Lefkow) – made sacrifices. All of their sacrifices make different sorts of sense within the context of their historical eras, and each questions the worth of each other’s sacrifices. Notably, all of their sacrifices have something to do with their children or lack of children.
This includes Marlene whom, we learn, has a particular relationship with her sister’s child, Angie (Dubberly). Angie, age sixteen, still sucks her thumb and plays with younger children and utterly worships the independent Marlene. In Dubberly’s portrayal, she is simultaneously fierce and desperate. Marlene’s sister Joyce (Rhea), by contrast, is resigned and harsh. Marlene tells off the whining wife of the man who was passed over for Marlene’s promotion; when Joyce’s husband runs off to America, Joyce seemingly accepts it.
Contradictions build up like mirror reflections within mirrors. Marlene’s coworkers (Palting and Forstrom) pass quick – and often hilarious – judgment on the women they are tasked with finding jobs for in their employment agency Top Girls. We are inclined to side with the job-seeker, and then with the recruiter, and then back and then forth. When Marlene visits Angie and Joyce in the working-class English countryside, we see Marlene’s side of the argument on running off from her unkind parents, and Joyce’s side on standing by them; Marlene’s side on Angie’s future prospects, and Joyce’s; Marlene’s side on Thatcher and conservatism, and Joyce’s. Never does one side seem without a price, never does one character take a position out of character for her, and never do any of the actors comment on their character’s stance.
It’s much funnier, sadder, and provocative, seeing people who are fully themselves hitting their heads and hearts against each other, than it would be if Churchill or McGinnis insisted on a definitive message. As soon as you might decide that the story wants you to think that a woman like Marlene, adopting the power-suit attitude of an 80s businessman, is an unfortunate thing, a new resonance strikes, and you have to wonder whether our modern lean-in trope is a step forward, or backward, or simply sideways.
Every production element follows this commitment to bold individuality, from the metropolitan cubism of Matthew J. Keenan’s fascinating set to the emotion-punching lighting of Laura Eckelman. Costume designer Alison Samantha Johnson and hair/makeup designer Craig Miller deserve maximal praise for the instantly memorable colors and shapes the characters wear, perhaps best exemplified in the transformation Forstrom undergoes between her fairy-tale Patient Griselda and her confrontationally colorful 80s businesswoman. Each character is as ethically defined by their appearance choices as by their words.
Top Girls is not an easy play to stage, between the overlapping conversations, sudden shifts into new characters with every new scene, and wildly contrasting opinions on such matters as the proper way for a medieval woman to surrender her infant. McGinnis and her unflagging ensemble make cracking open the Pandora’s Box of Churchill’s masterwork look easy.
We might ask, as the main question out of many raised by the play, how much has changed and how much of the change is good. In the play’s opening dinner party, we’re invited to compare the new promotion of 80’s British corporate headhunter Marlene (Karina Hilleard) to the lives and careers of her guests – five historical and mythical personages. All of them – hell-pillaging legend Dull Gret (Caroline Dubberly), concubine-turned-monk Lady Nijo (Alexandra Maria Palting), world-tromping Isabella Bird (Susan Marie Rhea), obedient Chaucerian wife Patient Griselda (Amanda Forstrom), and gender-disguised Pope Joan (Jessica Lefkow) – made sacrifices. All of their sacrifices make different sorts of sense within the context of their historical eras, and each questions the worth of each other’s sacrifices. Notably, all of their sacrifices have something to do with their children or lack of children.
This includes Marlene whom, we learn, has a particular relationship with her sister’s child, Angie (Dubberly). Angie, age sixteen, still sucks her thumb and plays with younger children and utterly worships the independent Marlene. In Dubberly’s portrayal, she is simultaneously fierce and desperate. Marlene’s sister Joyce (Rhea), by contrast, is resigned and harsh. Marlene tells off the whining wife of the man who was passed over for Marlene’s promotion; when Joyce’s husband runs off to America, Joyce seemingly accepts it.
Contradictions build up like mirror reflections within mirrors. Marlene’s coworkers (Palting and Forstrom) pass quick – and often hilarious – judgment on the women they are tasked with finding jobs for in their employment agency Top Girls. We are inclined to side with the job-seeker, and then with the recruiter, and then back and then forth. When Marlene visits Angie and Joyce in the working-class English countryside, we see Marlene’s side of the argument on running off from her unkind parents, and Joyce’s side on standing by them; Marlene’s side on Angie’s future prospects, and Joyce’s; Marlene’s side on Thatcher and conservatism, and Joyce’s. Never does one side seem without a price, never does one character take a position out of character for her, and never do any of the actors comment on their character’s stance.
It’s much funnier, sadder, and provocative, seeing people who are fully themselves hitting their heads and hearts against each other, than it would be if Churchill or McGinnis insisted on a definitive message. As soon as you might decide that the story wants you to think that a woman like Marlene, adopting the power-suit attitude of an 80s businessman, is an unfortunate thing, a new resonance strikes, and you have to wonder whether our modern lean-in trope is a step forward, or backward, or simply sideways.
Every production element follows this commitment to bold individuality, from the metropolitan cubism of Matthew J. Keenan’s fascinating set to the emotion-punching lighting of Laura Eckelman. Costume designer Alison Samantha Johnson and hair/makeup designer Craig Miller deserve maximal praise for the instantly memorable colors and shapes the characters wear, perhaps best exemplified in the transformation Forstrom undergoes between her fairy-tale Patient Griselda and her confrontationally colorful 80s businesswoman. Each character is as ethically defined by their appearance choices as by their words.
Top Girls is not an easy play to stage, between the overlapping conversations, sudden shifts into new characters with every new scene, and wildly contrasting opinions on such matters as the proper way for a medieval woman to surrender her infant. McGinnis and her unflagging ensemble make cracking open the Pandora’s Box of Churchill’s masterwork look easy.
Review: ‘Broken Glass’ at Theater J
by David Siegel
June 21, 2017
Shards of unseen, but sharply-felt shattered glass, both of a collapsing marriage and the infamous Kristallnacht(Night of Crystal), are fused together in Arthur Miller’s Broken Glass, now playing at Theater J. It is a satisfying evening with an unyielding, rarely-revived drama because of a fine compelling cast under the strong clear direction of Aaron Posner. The evening will be especially appealing for those interested in a rarely-revived Miller drama that wrestles with dreams for a more enlightened world. It was written well after his masterpieces of theater made him a cultural touchstone, late in his illustrious career. It was first performed in 1994 and was last seen in the DC area about two decades ago.
Broken Glass is set in 1938. Newspaper articles with photos of the aftermath of Kristallnacht have hit New York City. Seeing images of old Jewish men cleaning a Berlin sidewalk with toothbrushes hits Sylvia Gellburg, a married Jewish woman living in Brooklyn, especially hard. Lise Bruneau movingly portrays Sylvia – a woman who exists in a nightmare of a crumbling, dead marriage – with such authority that I easily felt her pain and loneliness as authentic. Her later moments of action and courage in the production appear as realistic.
Marriage and life have taken a toll on Sylvia. But she is by no means blameless, as she has humiliated her husband early in their marriage. Sylvia suffers from a baffling medical condition: she is unable to walk or feel below her waist. Is it some kind of hysteria as she becomes more and more obsessed with what is happening to Jews in Germany? Is there a connection between the two events, thousands of miles apart? Is Sylvia’s physical condition a mental health reaction to her unhappy, stressful marriage?
Her husband, Philip, is a tense, tightly-wound, self-loathing Jewish man. Paul Morella portrays the stressed, anxious man ready to explode at the slightest provocation. He is like a lithium battery about to violently burn, harming himself and others.
Broken Glass takes us on a journey like a medical detective procedural to find answers to what really caused Sylvia’s debilitating condition. Sylvia’s symptoms are discussed, analyzed, and diagnoses suggested. In parallel, conditions of German Jews under the rising Nazi power are also discussed and analyzed; Sylvia is like a Greek Chorus of one, sending out warnings that no one wants to hear.
Those who Miller enlists on the journey for answers includes a “hero” – a family doctor who seems a wonder of decency with an interesting ritual habit of riding a horse down Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn to make it through his day. Oh, and he is also a bit of a womanizer. Played by Gregory Linington, the doctor is a man with a quick smile and somewhat open mind, but plenty of flaws.
The doctor’s insightful, cleared-eye wife is played by Kimberly Gilbert who, in a dandy performance, provides not only a distinct “objective” perspective to the proceedings, but adds amusing comic relief, as well. Also notable are Stephen Patrick Martin, playing Philip’s boss – a banker who has suffered a loss of his own, and Michele Osherow, who portray Sylvia’s solid, decent-to-the-core sister, who serves as a lovely, unclouded voice for a family’s usually-unspoken, deep history and dynamics.
Paul Morella and Lise Bruneau in Arthur Miller’s Broken Glass at Theater J. Photo by Teresa Wood.
Broken Glass does feel soft at times as Miller’s script is just so damn direct. But, then as the production nears its final scenes, it picks up energy, power and plenty of flawless, layered work from the principals. The production becomes a maelstrom about facing the worst life can bring upon people. The final fade is not easy to bear witness.
Andrew Cohen’s Broken Glass set is a minimalist one – chairs and tables that serve their purpose. Moving projections are made into over a dozen frames at the rear of the set, showing world events in the late 1930’s. The projections were developed by Mark Costello from rarely-available images from stories in American newspapers. These were made available through a unique collaboration with the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.
Tyler Gunther’s costume design was a wealth of period specific clothes. Lighting design by Harold F. Burgess II and Justin Schmitz’s sound design added textures to what could have easily been a visually static production. And applause are due for the scene changes in Broken Glass. They were more than mere brown-outs. Instead, there were projections of cellist Udi Bar-David while his recorded, mournful music connected the scenes.
Miller has his doctor say what he wants the audience to truly hear. Whether it resonates in these current days of identity politics and world tumult is anyone’s guess. “I have all kinds coming into my office, and there’s not one of them who one way or another is not persecuted. Yes. Everybody’s persecuted… sometimes I wonder, maybe that’s what holds this country together! And what’s really amazing is that you can’t find anybody who’s persecuting anyone else.”
Broken Glass is set in 1938. Newspaper articles with photos of the aftermath of Kristallnacht have hit New York City. Seeing images of old Jewish men cleaning a Berlin sidewalk with toothbrushes hits Sylvia Gellburg, a married Jewish woman living in Brooklyn, especially hard. Lise Bruneau movingly portrays Sylvia – a woman who exists in a nightmare of a crumbling, dead marriage – with such authority that I easily felt her pain and loneliness as authentic. Her later moments of action and courage in the production appear as realistic.
Marriage and life have taken a toll on Sylvia. But she is by no means blameless, as she has humiliated her husband early in their marriage. Sylvia suffers from a baffling medical condition: she is unable to walk or feel below her waist. Is it some kind of hysteria as she becomes more and more obsessed with what is happening to Jews in Germany? Is there a connection between the two events, thousands of miles apart? Is Sylvia’s physical condition a mental health reaction to her unhappy, stressful marriage?
Her husband, Philip, is a tense, tightly-wound, self-loathing Jewish man. Paul Morella portrays the stressed, anxious man ready to explode at the slightest provocation. He is like a lithium battery about to violently burn, harming himself and others.
Broken Glass takes us on a journey like a medical detective procedural to find answers to what really caused Sylvia’s debilitating condition. Sylvia’s symptoms are discussed, analyzed, and diagnoses suggested. In parallel, conditions of German Jews under the rising Nazi power are also discussed and analyzed; Sylvia is like a Greek Chorus of one, sending out warnings that no one wants to hear.
Those who Miller enlists on the journey for answers includes a “hero” – a family doctor who seems a wonder of decency with an interesting ritual habit of riding a horse down Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn to make it through his day. Oh, and he is also a bit of a womanizer. Played by Gregory Linington, the doctor is a man with a quick smile and somewhat open mind, but plenty of flaws.
The doctor’s insightful, cleared-eye wife is played by Kimberly Gilbert who, in a dandy performance, provides not only a distinct “objective” perspective to the proceedings, but adds amusing comic relief, as well. Also notable are Stephen Patrick Martin, playing Philip’s boss – a banker who has suffered a loss of his own, and Michele Osherow, who portray Sylvia’s solid, decent-to-the-core sister, who serves as a lovely, unclouded voice for a family’s usually-unspoken, deep history and dynamics.
Paul Morella and Lise Bruneau in Arthur Miller’s Broken Glass at Theater J. Photo by Teresa Wood.
Broken Glass does feel soft at times as Miller’s script is just so damn direct. But, then as the production nears its final scenes, it picks up energy, power and plenty of flawless, layered work from the principals. The production becomes a maelstrom about facing the worst life can bring upon people. The final fade is not easy to bear witness.
Andrew Cohen’s Broken Glass set is a minimalist one – chairs and tables that serve their purpose. Moving projections are made into over a dozen frames at the rear of the set, showing world events in the late 1930’s. The projections were developed by Mark Costello from rarely-available images from stories in American newspapers. These were made available through a unique collaboration with the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.
Tyler Gunther’s costume design was a wealth of period specific clothes. Lighting design by Harold F. Burgess II and Justin Schmitz’s sound design added textures to what could have easily been a visually static production. And applause are due for the scene changes in Broken Glass. They were more than mere brown-outs. Instead, there were projections of cellist Udi Bar-David while his recorded, mournful music connected the scenes.
Miller has his doctor say what he wants the audience to truly hear. Whether it resonates in these current days of identity politics and world tumult is anyone’s guess. “I have all kinds coming into my office, and there’s not one of them who one way or another is not persecuted. Yes. Everybody’s persecuted… sometimes I wonder, maybe that’s what holds this country together! And what’s really amazing is that you can’t find anybody who’s persecuting anyone else.”
Review: ‘King Lear’ at Avant Bard
by David Siegel
May 30, 2017
Avant Bard’s King Lear is a bracing, piercing production of a family and realm in heightening disarray. The galvanizing production plumbs the depths of an unnamed country in which loyalty reigns, deceit lurks, chaos ensues, and pain drives its sharp lance into hearts and minds. The time could be just before now, or maybe what could be just a few moments into the future.
This Lear has a life force that enraptured me. It was built from the start with Director Tom Prewitt’s sure-handed, distinctively eclectic outlook.
Let’s start with the refreshing, integrated casting of newcomers to the Shakespeare canon and a non-traditional, re-gendering of several characters that added to this King Lear’s allure. Then combine with the authoritative work of Avant Bard company members, and the commanding presence of Rick Foucheux as Lear, himself. Then, further enhance the production with a fired-up design team who enveloped my senses with storms, flash-bang sounds, and lighting effects, along with some well-placed chimes at midnight and noon too.
Such a straightforward plot is King Lear. Shakespeare has audiences witness the decline into dementia (or perhaps a late onset of PTSD for a warrior King) of an aging Monarch. He has divided his Kingdom. He has given parts as a bequest to two of his three daughters after testing each with a simple question: How much does each love him?
Smooth-talking flattery spews easily from the lips of two daughters, both older and married, Goneril and Regan. The youngest daughter, Cordelia, single and still living at home, speaks more plainly if not honestly, which angers Lear to his very core. He quickly disowns Cordelia and banishes her.
Chaos ensues within both the broken family and kingdom. The married daughters show their true natures, betraying their father with the assistance of an in-it-to-win-it malcontent named Edmund. The ever more unhinged Lear wanders his kingdom (“Who is it that can tell me who I am?”) howling at the moon with a small entourage of loyal followers. These include a long-time confidant named Gloucester (re-gendered to a female character from the original male in Shakespeare), a steadfast Fool (“Many a true word hath been spoken in jest”), and resourceful protectors such as Kent attempting rescues until the play’s chilling denouement with the unexpected valiant swordplay of Edgar (played by a female actor as a male).
But those are mere plot points and some dialogue.
What makes this King Lear so majestic an evening are finely calibrated, galvanizing performances starting with Rick Foucheux as Lear. Foucheux is commanding as a man, father, and King. He is lucid but quick-tempered to a fault. (Is this a sign of late onset PTSD from a King in too many battles?) When first we encounter him he seems a King and man to enjoy company with. But his temper is fearful. His need to be loved without quenching. As madness shows itself more and more, Foucheux babbles as if on the brink of a final break with reality. He throws himself about the stage; crawling and shouting, whimpering and shaking as he tries mightily to keep his wits. Foucheux is simply larger than life, and he fills the tight surroundings of Gunston’s Theatre II with a sheer bravura performance—a tour de force. Foucheux made me feel his Lear as I have rarely grasped before. Cam Magee, in the role of Gloucester was a very affecting presence. She and her character add great depth to the relationship with Lear. Magee was impressive and expressive throughout as she withstood trials and tribulations testing her loyalties. Let me add that in one scene toward the end of Act II, when she withstands a special torture, I saw many an audience member turn away from the intensity of the stage horror. With Gloucester a female, there were also unexpected tenderness and wisdom. As Edgar, Sara Barker was a penetrating and absorbing presence in a challenging role of a protector of Lear who has to withstand his old tests of mettle. Charlene V. Smith’s Regan is made of steel with a ‘don’t fuck with me’ bearing. Goneril, as played by Alyssa Sanders, has a verbally vicious, stinging manner toward all that come into her presence. Kathryn Zoerb’s Cordelia is no pushover as a young woman who speaks truth to power with a spine and a sword when it is necessary.
Christopher Henley’s unmuted, faithful persona as The Fool; Vince Eisenson’s appealing, steadfast, Kent; Dylan Morrison Myers’ wickedly vile Edmund; and, as husbands to Regan and Goneril, Frank Britton’s unsettling Cornwall and Christian R. Gibbs’ Albany, add to the deep pleasure of the production.
The technical team of Scenic Designer Jonathan Dahm Robertson, Lighting Designer John D. Alexander, and Sound Designer Justin Schmitz establish a striking, forceful atmosphere for the production; a ragged, seen-better-days geodesic dome in some back-channel, godforsaken place where storms rage, thunder bellows, and eerie foreboding chimes strike. The costume design by Elizabeth S. Ennis is a beauty.
There is nothing commonplace about Avant Bard’s King Lear. It is ambitious and illuminating. This production made my heart ache as the production unfolded. It is memorable for many reasons starting with Rick Foucheux’s mind-boggling performance as a man named Lear, on the verge of and then succumbing to a breakdown. Avant Bard’s King Lear is also a deep dive into the wreckage of a family and country undone by false loyalty, and fake genuflection and arrogance.
This Lear has a life force that enraptured me. It was built from the start with Director Tom Prewitt’s sure-handed, distinctively eclectic outlook.
Let’s start with the refreshing, integrated casting of newcomers to the Shakespeare canon and a non-traditional, re-gendering of several characters that added to this King Lear’s allure. Then combine with the authoritative work of Avant Bard company members, and the commanding presence of Rick Foucheux as Lear, himself. Then, further enhance the production with a fired-up design team who enveloped my senses with storms, flash-bang sounds, and lighting effects, along with some well-placed chimes at midnight and noon too.
Such a straightforward plot is King Lear. Shakespeare has audiences witness the decline into dementia (or perhaps a late onset of PTSD for a warrior King) of an aging Monarch. He has divided his Kingdom. He has given parts as a bequest to two of his three daughters after testing each with a simple question: How much does each love him?
Smooth-talking flattery spews easily from the lips of two daughters, both older and married, Goneril and Regan. The youngest daughter, Cordelia, single and still living at home, speaks more plainly if not honestly, which angers Lear to his very core. He quickly disowns Cordelia and banishes her.
Chaos ensues within both the broken family and kingdom. The married daughters show their true natures, betraying their father with the assistance of an in-it-to-win-it malcontent named Edmund. The ever more unhinged Lear wanders his kingdom (“Who is it that can tell me who I am?”) howling at the moon with a small entourage of loyal followers. These include a long-time confidant named Gloucester (re-gendered to a female character from the original male in Shakespeare), a steadfast Fool (“Many a true word hath been spoken in jest”), and resourceful protectors such as Kent attempting rescues until the play’s chilling denouement with the unexpected valiant swordplay of Edgar (played by a female actor as a male).
But those are mere plot points and some dialogue.
What makes this King Lear so majestic an evening are finely calibrated, galvanizing performances starting with Rick Foucheux as Lear. Foucheux is commanding as a man, father, and King. He is lucid but quick-tempered to a fault. (Is this a sign of late onset PTSD from a King in too many battles?) When first we encounter him he seems a King and man to enjoy company with. But his temper is fearful. His need to be loved without quenching. As madness shows itself more and more, Foucheux babbles as if on the brink of a final break with reality. He throws himself about the stage; crawling and shouting, whimpering and shaking as he tries mightily to keep his wits. Foucheux is simply larger than life, and he fills the tight surroundings of Gunston’s Theatre II with a sheer bravura performance—a tour de force. Foucheux made me feel his Lear as I have rarely grasped before. Cam Magee, in the role of Gloucester was a very affecting presence. She and her character add great depth to the relationship with Lear. Magee was impressive and expressive throughout as she withstood trials and tribulations testing her loyalties. Let me add that in one scene toward the end of Act II, when she withstands a special torture, I saw many an audience member turn away from the intensity of the stage horror. With Gloucester a female, there were also unexpected tenderness and wisdom. As Edgar, Sara Barker was a penetrating and absorbing presence in a challenging role of a protector of Lear who has to withstand his old tests of mettle. Charlene V. Smith’s Regan is made of steel with a ‘don’t fuck with me’ bearing. Goneril, as played by Alyssa Sanders, has a verbally vicious, stinging manner toward all that come into her presence. Kathryn Zoerb’s Cordelia is no pushover as a young woman who speaks truth to power with a spine and a sword when it is necessary.
Christopher Henley’s unmuted, faithful persona as The Fool; Vince Eisenson’s appealing, steadfast, Kent; Dylan Morrison Myers’ wickedly vile Edmund; and, as husbands to Regan and Goneril, Frank Britton’s unsettling Cornwall and Christian R. Gibbs’ Albany, add to the deep pleasure of the production.
The technical team of Scenic Designer Jonathan Dahm Robertson, Lighting Designer John D. Alexander, and Sound Designer Justin Schmitz establish a striking, forceful atmosphere for the production; a ragged, seen-better-days geodesic dome in some back-channel, godforsaken place where storms rage, thunder bellows, and eerie foreboding chimes strike. The costume design by Elizabeth S. Ennis is a beauty.
There is nothing commonplace about Avant Bard’s King Lear. It is ambitious and illuminating. This production made my heart ache as the production unfolded. It is memorable for many reasons starting with Rick Foucheux’s mind-boggling performance as a man named Lear, on the verge of and then succumbing to a breakdown. Avant Bard’s King Lear is also a deep dive into the wreckage of a family and country undone by false loyalty, and fake genuflection and arrogance.
Dangereuse: ‘King Lear’ at WSC Avant Bard
by Sophia Howes
June 1, 2017
King Lear has sometimes been called the Everest of classical acting. Every great Shakespearean actor must sooner or later face the physically and emotionally exhausting task of playing the part. Some simply give up. Albert Finney, when asked, is reported to have said; “Oh God, eight shows a week doing Lear – no, no, no.” Derek Jacobi, whose Lear was widely praised, called it the “Lear hoop” which one must jump through. The role of Lear is notoriously hard on actors. Jonathan Pryce put his back out carrying Cordelia. Edward Petherbridge had a stroke after two days of rehearsals. One famous Lear, Donald Wolfit, is said to have given the following advice on the role: “Get a light Cordelia and keep an eye on the Fool.”
Shakespeare scholar Jonathan Bate believes that for a successful Lear you need a minimal set, closeness to the audience, and a Lear who is the right age. In an article in The Telegraph, he continues: “The key to a great production is the ability to hold together the huge and the tiny, the universal and the local, the epic and the intimate. Shakespeare’s language makes just this demand, as it moves at speed from vast philosophical questions (“Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts?”) to the language of small and ordinary things — garden waterpots, gilded flies and toasted cheese… It’s sometimes said that the problem with the part of Lear is that “by the time you are old enough to play it, you are too old to play it.”
Avant Bard’s production of King Lear meets all these preconditions. The set is minimal, and the staging is in the round; a wonderfully intimate venue. Even better, Foucheux is not only the perfect age (60s) but perfect for the part. His Lear is a triumph. One of the glories of the performance is his voice. Voice, voice, voice. What Lear can succeed without it? Foucheux has an instinctive command of voice, from the loudest scream to the softest whisper. His physicality is equally masterful. He inhabits his body like a lion at bay, and rages at the gods like a wounded beast. One of the most memorable scenes is Lear, standing on the central platform, shouting imprecations at the sky, while the storm’s wrath swirls around him.
His relationship with Gloucester (Cam Magee) is a high point of the production. The play is well known for its double plot; Lear rejects Cordelia, the one daughter who truly loves him, in favor of the duplicitous Goneril and Regan. Gloucester believes the lies of her ice-cold illegitimate son, Edmund, and casts off Edgar, the good son who struggles and survives. The harrowing aspects of the drama are intensified by having Gloucester played as a woman. Magee’s magnificent performance enlarges the possibilities of the character and her story. The look she exchanges with Lear in the beginning is deeply knowing. They seem to share a mature love. Magee’s connection to sons Edgar and Edmund introduces the subject of maternal love and suffering. Instead of a play focusing solely on the ultimate father figure, we see the actions of the mother as a key element of the plot. This is a marvelous innovation and a heartening turn of events for those of us who love Shakespeare and lament the paucity of women’s parts.
Magee’s early lines as Gloucester, in the hands of a male actor, would come across as somewhat coarse boasting.
“[T]hough this knave came something saucily into the
world before he was sent for, yet was his mother
fair; there was good sport at his making, and the
whoreson must be acknowledged.”
--King Lear, Act I, Scene 1.
In Magee’s hands, Gloucester is a player, a confident, powerful woman who acknowledges her son’s illegitimacy as blandly as she would his rejection by the college of his choice.
Lear begins as an arrogant despot. His lack of self-knowledge makes him easy prey for the manipulations of Goneril (Alyssa Sanders) and Regan (Charlene V. Smith). Sanders plays Goneril, the dominant sister, as a mix of aggression and underlying sensuality. As Regan, Charlene V. Smith has a magnetic presence and an innate ferocity. The two sisters’ deceitfulness seems inborn, but there is no doubt that greed and intense jealousy of Cordelia (Kathryn Zoerb) play a role in their machinations.
Lear’s overwhelming need for Cordelia’s love seems to provoke her refusal to flatter him. Foucheux and Zoerb establish a strong bond which causes excruciating pain when it is broken. They seem alike, as well—resolute and stubborn. Their reconciliation mirrors their emotional growth. Lear, who has lost everything, has gained his humanity. Cordelia has rediscovered her love for her father, and her ability to comfort him.
Christopher Henley’s Fool is full of sound, fury, and impudent wisdom. Henley creates a complex Fool who is not afraid to challenge his master. “Dost thou call me fool, boy?” Lear asks. “All thy other titles thou hast given away,” the Fool replies. “That thou wast born with.” Dylan Morrison Myers’ Edmund is constantly on the move, plotting, romancing Goneril and Regan, achieving his objectives with ruthless efficiency. The character, akin to Iago, is intellectually driven and completely devoid of empathy. Myers is extremely effective in the role.
Edgar (Sara Barker), on the run from his brother’s baseless accusations, becomes “Poor Tom,” a shambling, demon-ridden fugitive. Barker is exceptional in both roles, as the honest Edgar, who believes his malevolent brother without question, and as the haunted Tom, a terrible denial of identity which almost costs him his life. The casting of a female as Edgar emphasizes the modern notion of gender as a performance.
Frank Britton’s Cornwall, resplendent in a red jacket, is as mercurial and bellicose as it is possible to be. With the more morally aware but ineffective Albany (Christian R. Gibbs), he plans and schemes to find his way through the morass of the disintegrating kingdom. Britton, a formidable presence, has a physicality that works beautifully for the part. Gibbs’ understated sincerity is well-suited to his role as one of the few sympathetic characters.
Because Gloucester is played by a woman, Kent’s role as Lear’s male friend and defender becomes even more crucial. Vince Eisenson is by turns fiercely indignant, philosophical, and always provocative. Louis E. Davis finds some unusual shadings in the role of Oswald, and as Burgundy, he rejects the penniless Cordelia with brisk practicality.
The Ensemble: Tiffany Byrd (Doctor/Knight/Attendant/Messenger) and Greg Watkins (First Servant/Knight/Attendant/Messenger) perform a dizzying variety of roles with enormous commitment.
The creative team, Director Tom Prewitt, Scenic Designer Jonathan Dahm Robertson, Lighting Designer John D. Alexander, and Sound Designer and Composer Justin Schmitz have worked wonders in this small space. There is lightning which seems to break over the audience, evocative music at just the right time, and a set which suggests the environment without being distracting. The costume design by Elizabeth Ennis is eclectic. Goneril and Regan, fittingly in red and black, make a lovely pair of harpies. Cordelia is in white, another traditional choice. The men’s costumes have a largely military aspect. Fight Choreographer Casey Kaleba builds in combat which is enlivening and believable.
This King Lear has the core of elemental truth which is so hard to describe and so difficult to attain. The great lines come at us in a new way, as part of a brutal world which is paradoxically filled with kindness and acts of love. It is the perfect antidote to 24-7 media, which seems to turn everything into a tweet or a car commercial. The pain here is close to the surface, and real.
Director Tom Prewitt and his cast have crafted a Lear who would be at home in today’s headlines. Covfefe.
Shakespeare scholar Jonathan Bate believes that for a successful Lear you need a minimal set, closeness to the audience, and a Lear who is the right age. In an article in The Telegraph, he continues: “The key to a great production is the ability to hold together the huge and the tiny, the universal and the local, the epic and the intimate. Shakespeare’s language makes just this demand, as it moves at speed from vast philosophical questions (“Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts?”) to the language of small and ordinary things — garden waterpots, gilded flies and toasted cheese… It’s sometimes said that the problem with the part of Lear is that “by the time you are old enough to play it, you are too old to play it.”
Avant Bard’s production of King Lear meets all these preconditions. The set is minimal, and the staging is in the round; a wonderfully intimate venue. Even better, Foucheux is not only the perfect age (60s) but perfect for the part. His Lear is a triumph. One of the glories of the performance is his voice. Voice, voice, voice. What Lear can succeed without it? Foucheux has an instinctive command of voice, from the loudest scream to the softest whisper. His physicality is equally masterful. He inhabits his body like a lion at bay, and rages at the gods like a wounded beast. One of the most memorable scenes is Lear, standing on the central platform, shouting imprecations at the sky, while the storm’s wrath swirls around him.
His relationship with Gloucester (Cam Magee) is a high point of the production. The play is well known for its double plot; Lear rejects Cordelia, the one daughter who truly loves him, in favor of the duplicitous Goneril and Regan. Gloucester believes the lies of her ice-cold illegitimate son, Edmund, and casts off Edgar, the good son who struggles and survives. The harrowing aspects of the drama are intensified by having Gloucester played as a woman. Magee’s magnificent performance enlarges the possibilities of the character and her story. The look she exchanges with Lear in the beginning is deeply knowing. They seem to share a mature love. Magee’s connection to sons Edgar and Edmund introduces the subject of maternal love and suffering. Instead of a play focusing solely on the ultimate father figure, we see the actions of the mother as a key element of the plot. This is a marvelous innovation and a heartening turn of events for those of us who love Shakespeare and lament the paucity of women’s parts.
Magee’s early lines as Gloucester, in the hands of a male actor, would come across as somewhat coarse boasting.
“[T]hough this knave came something saucily into the
world before he was sent for, yet was his mother
fair; there was good sport at his making, and the
whoreson must be acknowledged.”
--King Lear, Act I, Scene 1.
In Magee’s hands, Gloucester is a player, a confident, powerful woman who acknowledges her son’s illegitimacy as blandly as she would his rejection by the college of his choice.
Lear begins as an arrogant despot. His lack of self-knowledge makes him easy prey for the manipulations of Goneril (Alyssa Sanders) and Regan (Charlene V. Smith). Sanders plays Goneril, the dominant sister, as a mix of aggression and underlying sensuality. As Regan, Charlene V. Smith has a magnetic presence and an innate ferocity. The two sisters’ deceitfulness seems inborn, but there is no doubt that greed and intense jealousy of Cordelia (Kathryn Zoerb) play a role in their machinations.
Lear’s overwhelming need for Cordelia’s love seems to provoke her refusal to flatter him. Foucheux and Zoerb establish a strong bond which causes excruciating pain when it is broken. They seem alike, as well—resolute and stubborn. Their reconciliation mirrors their emotional growth. Lear, who has lost everything, has gained his humanity. Cordelia has rediscovered her love for her father, and her ability to comfort him.
Christopher Henley’s Fool is full of sound, fury, and impudent wisdom. Henley creates a complex Fool who is not afraid to challenge his master. “Dost thou call me fool, boy?” Lear asks. “All thy other titles thou hast given away,” the Fool replies. “That thou wast born with.” Dylan Morrison Myers’ Edmund is constantly on the move, plotting, romancing Goneril and Regan, achieving his objectives with ruthless efficiency. The character, akin to Iago, is intellectually driven and completely devoid of empathy. Myers is extremely effective in the role.
Edgar (Sara Barker), on the run from his brother’s baseless accusations, becomes “Poor Tom,” a shambling, demon-ridden fugitive. Barker is exceptional in both roles, as the honest Edgar, who believes his malevolent brother without question, and as the haunted Tom, a terrible denial of identity which almost costs him his life. The casting of a female as Edgar emphasizes the modern notion of gender as a performance.
Frank Britton’s Cornwall, resplendent in a red jacket, is as mercurial and bellicose as it is possible to be. With the more morally aware but ineffective Albany (Christian R. Gibbs), he plans and schemes to find his way through the morass of the disintegrating kingdom. Britton, a formidable presence, has a physicality that works beautifully for the part. Gibbs’ understated sincerity is well-suited to his role as one of the few sympathetic characters.
Because Gloucester is played by a woman, Kent’s role as Lear’s male friend and defender becomes even more crucial. Vince Eisenson is by turns fiercely indignant, philosophical, and always provocative. Louis E. Davis finds some unusual shadings in the role of Oswald, and as Burgundy, he rejects the penniless Cordelia with brisk practicality.
The Ensemble: Tiffany Byrd (Doctor/Knight/Attendant/Messenger) and Greg Watkins (First Servant/Knight/Attendant/Messenger) perform a dizzying variety of roles with enormous commitment.
The creative team, Director Tom Prewitt, Scenic Designer Jonathan Dahm Robertson, Lighting Designer John D. Alexander, and Sound Designer and Composer Justin Schmitz have worked wonders in this small space. There is lightning which seems to break over the audience, evocative music at just the right time, and a set which suggests the environment without being distracting. The costume design by Elizabeth Ennis is eclectic. Goneril and Regan, fittingly in red and black, make a lovely pair of harpies. Cordelia is in white, another traditional choice. The men’s costumes have a largely military aspect. Fight Choreographer Casey Kaleba builds in combat which is enlivening and believable.
This King Lear has the core of elemental truth which is so hard to describe and so difficult to attain. The great lines come at us in a new way, as part of a brutal world which is paradoxically filled with kindness and acts of love. It is the perfect antidote to 24-7 media, which seems to turn everything into a tweet or a car commercial. The pain here is close to the surface, and real.
Director Tom Prewitt and his cast have crafted a Lear who would be at home in today’s headlines. Covfefe.
Avant Bard’s King Lear is revelatory, thanks to
Rick Foucheux and director Tom Prewitt
by Tim Treanor
May 30, 2017
Is it possible to learn something new from a 400-year-old play? Yes, if the play is rich in insight and wisdom; if the production is attentive to detail and willing to take risks; and if there is a commitment to excellence by the company. WSC Avant Bard’s King Lear succeeds on all three counts, and so may be the best theater in Washington right now.
We think of Lear as the monarch who botched his succession plan, but he is more than that. Lear is the widower who has finally moved in with his daughter’s family and learned that bedtime is 10 PM and that he is no longer allowed to smoke cigars. Lear is the bank president who, upon his retirement, finds that his successor will invest in credit default swaps. Lear is the mother who, upon becoming a grandmother, is told that her child-rearing practices were all wrong. Lear is the country doctor who, having sold her practice to a health care corporation, discovers that her old patients are getting pain medication instead of lifestyle counseling.
Lear is, in short, all of us, holding on to our present tenses for dear life, against the tide of history and our inevitable decay. Lear, like all of us, finds who he is in what he does. For you, it might be analyzing legislation, or dramaturgy; for Lear, it is being King of England. Lear decides to surrender the cares of office (as most of us do, sooner or later); the challenge, for him and for us, is to do so without surrendering himself. King Lear is about his failure to do so — he loses kingdom, self, and everything dear to him.
In WSC Avant Bard’s intimate production, Lear is as much a story of a father as it is a story of a King. We see it immediately, in Jonathan Dahm Robertson’s unsettling set: uneven strips hang from above; in the background are panels of what appears to be a geodesic dome shattered by bazookas. We are unmoored in time, in the Kingdom of rags. Lear (Rick Foucheux, capping off his superb career with this highly satisfying performance) strides into Court, surrounded by minions. “Gloucester,” he barks out. (In an inspired touch, director Tom Prewitt has turned Gloucester female, played by the excellent Cam Magee. This will open up very provocative options later.) “Attend the Lords of France and Burgundy.” This is not a persuasive leader; this is dad, directing dinner arrangements.
We all know what happens next, but we don’t know why. Lear is prepared to step off the throne, and give his kingdom up to his three daughters in equal shares, under certain preconditions: a hundred knights remain in his retinue, and he is (and they are) to have free access to his daughter’s homes, and also the “sway, revenue, execution of the rest”. He then requires his daughters to profess their love to him in the most grandiose manner possible. Goneril (Alyssa Sanders) and Regan (Charlene V. Smith), oozing insincerity, offer their fealty in terms usually reserved to catechists addressing their deity. Cordelia, his favorite, (Kathryn Zoerb) offers none — “I love your majesty according to my bond”. Lear responds by disinheriting Cordelia and dividing his Kingdom between his more fulsome daughters, and when his loyal lieutenant, Kent (a fabulous Vince Eisenson), attempts to intervene, Lear banishes Kent.
Is Lear a suppurating narcissist, who makes his decisions from a soft cradle of lies? Perhaps, though it is unlikely that so ill-equipped a leader would have been so successful a King. The anxious, tumbling way Foucheux approaches his speeches here suggests another explanation: that Lear knew the peril he would be in once he gave up his throne, and needed his heirs to, in this public place, swear a fealty so far-reaching that they could not deny it later without fear of fomenting rebellion.
Of course, it doesn’t work. Goneril and Regan immediately scheme to rein in their impulsive father, and if Lear doesn’t realize that he has condemned himself by surrendering power, he has his Fool (Christopher Henley, as good as I’ve seen him) to tell him. (When Lear asks, “Dost thou call me fool, boy?” the Fool answers “All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast born with.”)
So established, King Lear almost writes itself. Lear, divested of his Kingdom in favor of his children, gradually is divested of his selfhood. Goneril and Regan are both self-obsessed sociopaths who believe that their own rise to power is overdue, but their complaints against Lear are not without justice. The old King’s raucous retinue has caused much disruption in the Kingdom Goneril and her husband Albany (Christian R. Gibbs) rule, and when he decides to make a premature visit to the Kingdom Regan shares with her husband, the ruthlessly aggressive Cornwall (Frank Britton), they are unprepared for the demands of Lear and his large staff. This is not simply the story of the good King betrayed by his treacherous children; this is the story of the surrender of power to the next generation, whether in family, business, or state.
There is a subplot, involving Gloucester. She has two sons: Edmund (Dylan Morrison Myers), who was born out of wedlock, and Edgar (Sara Barker). Edmund is as ruthlessly ambitious as anyone in this play, and twice as clever; he implicates Edgar in a plot to overthrow their mother and, with his half-brother out of the way, proceeds to overthrow their mother. That done, he sets his designs on England itself, romancing Goneril and Regan alternately as he contemplates their murder, and that of their husbands.
WSC Avant Bard’s production is full of illuminating touches which makes this play both easier to understand and more important. Lear’s descent into madness seems to be a quick one, but is easier to understand if you assume, as Foucheux told me in this interview, that “he was always destined to be King…And he really considered himself a divine King.” When Lear rages, observe the number of times he glances upward. He is furious at Goneril and Regan, to be sure, but his most personal anger is directed at God. I’m Your boy, he seems to be saying. Why are You doing this to me?
The second enduring mystery to the play is the fate of the Fool. We last see him helping a stuporous Lear escape, on Gloucester’s urgent advice, to Dover; he never appears again. But in his final utterance, while under Albany’s custodial control, Lear says “my poor fool is hanged”. How does he know? What does he see? Foucheux talked about that, too. “There is that moment with [Lear] and Gloucester…he’s babbling, and there seems to be non sequiturs everywhere…Interestingly, last night…we talked about the Fool’s influence on Lear and how some of these non sequiturs and some of these things that might appear to be babbling from the King are in fact echoes of things that the Fool has said…Who is this character, the fool? Is he already a voice in Lear’s head? And nothing more?”
Henley is certainly more than a voice in Lear’s head: he is a vivid, mocking presence who torments Lear and pricks away at everyone else. But could such a creature actually exist? Dressed in clownish pinks, mincing and howling, the Fool says things to Lear far more cutting and insulting than any of the things Cordelia or Kent said that got them banished. Aside from that, the Fool radiates fear; in tense situations, he crouches down, covering his head with his hands, and when he hurls his cutting jibes, he ducks, much as a soldier throwing a hand grenade from a foxhole might. Is it possible that the only person who would be allowed to say such things to Lear is…Lear? And is it possible that this effeminate, fearful, needy Fool is the person who the hypermasculine Lear wishes he could be, at least once in a while? And when his poor fool is hanged, does Lear recognize that his own time has run out?
Finally, Prewitt’s decision to turn Gloucester’s gender enriches the play in a way that would have been impossible in Shakespeare’s time. Gloucester occupies a position somewhere between ally and subordinate; the obedience is loyal rather than servile. At the end of the play, each having been undone by untrustworthy progeny, they reach for each other free from the bonds of status and protocol. In this production, they hold each other and kiss unrestrainedly. What’s love got to do with it? Everything. Making Gloucester female accomplishes much more than that, though. With Magee as Gloucester, we get a different model of loyalty than we get from most male Gloucesters, freer of ego and without any sense of rivalry. Since our culture (like almost all) reveres the mother-child bond above all else, Edmund’s betrayal seems even more horrifying than it otherwise would. And when Cornwall exacts his terrible punishment on her (I won’t tell you what it is) the shock is so profound it is almost as though we were all profanely insulted.
By setting the play in anytime, Prewitt universalizes the story (Elizabeth Ennis’ beautiful costumes, many of which could be described as “military chic”, provide material assistance) and enables some terrific performances. Foucheux makes no effort to turn Lear into a sympathetic character, but we sympathize with him anyway because his dilemma is our own. His carefully nuanced performance opens the play up to us. Magee gives us a pitch-perfect version of a powerful woman dealing with an even more powerful contemporary; I could look at her performance and imagine Valerie Jarrett in the Obama Administration, or Condoleezza Rice in the administration of the second Bush.
Edmund is one of the best roles in all of Shakespeare and Myers gets all of it, ranting and snarling one moment and as soothing as Sominex(tm) the next. Like Richard III, he vents to the audience, but unlike Richard, Edmund is animated by the sheer joy of doing ill. Myers is absolutely credible at this; Myers’ Edmund is the character most likely to stick a shiv between your ribs. I’ve already mentioned Eisenson, who was a late addition to the cast. Kent is really the only heroic character in the play, and Eisenson helps us to understand why. He is a brave man, who tells truth to power without making too much of himself. The laconic drawl he adopts makes us see a man at ease in his surroundings; even when Cornwall puts him in stocks he accepts the humiliation with equanimity. (Amusingly, when he mockingly pretends to flatter Cornwall, he assumes a Scottish burr. That would have gone over well in 1605, when the play was first performed and England was ruled by the Scot James I.)
To appreciate how good a job Henley has done with the Fool, go back and read the play after you’ve seen it. You’ll see how hard the Fool’s line reads are; Shakespeare appeared to reserve the most archaic language for the Fool’s speeches. Yet I have never heard the Fool’s lines get more laughs than they did in WSC’s production. Henley delivers the lines with such precision, and such keen timing, that you would have to be, well, a fool not to laugh.
WSC Avant Bard operates on a small budget, but you could not tell it from the technical work, and in particular the lighting (John D. Alexander) and sound (Justin Schmitz) designs. When it was time for war, they gave us hell from the clash of armies at Thermopylae to the sound of mortar fire in Iraq. When it was time for a thunderstorm, they were so realistic that I checked at intermission to make sure that my car was not underwater.
It is always a melancholy moment when a great actor takes his leave from the stage, and as much as I enjoyed this show I know I will miss watching Rich Foucheux practice his art. There is some satisfaction, however, in seeing him finish by taking this iconic role, and imbuing it with the passion, gravitas, dignity and insight which has been his stock in trade for nearly forty years.
We think of Lear as the monarch who botched his succession plan, but he is more than that. Lear is the widower who has finally moved in with his daughter’s family and learned that bedtime is 10 PM and that he is no longer allowed to smoke cigars. Lear is the bank president who, upon his retirement, finds that his successor will invest in credit default swaps. Lear is the mother who, upon becoming a grandmother, is told that her child-rearing practices were all wrong. Lear is the country doctor who, having sold her practice to a health care corporation, discovers that her old patients are getting pain medication instead of lifestyle counseling.
Lear is, in short, all of us, holding on to our present tenses for dear life, against the tide of history and our inevitable decay. Lear, like all of us, finds who he is in what he does. For you, it might be analyzing legislation, or dramaturgy; for Lear, it is being King of England. Lear decides to surrender the cares of office (as most of us do, sooner or later); the challenge, for him and for us, is to do so without surrendering himself. King Lear is about his failure to do so — he loses kingdom, self, and everything dear to him.
In WSC Avant Bard’s intimate production, Lear is as much a story of a father as it is a story of a King. We see it immediately, in Jonathan Dahm Robertson’s unsettling set: uneven strips hang from above; in the background are panels of what appears to be a geodesic dome shattered by bazookas. We are unmoored in time, in the Kingdom of rags. Lear (Rick Foucheux, capping off his superb career with this highly satisfying performance) strides into Court, surrounded by minions. “Gloucester,” he barks out. (In an inspired touch, director Tom Prewitt has turned Gloucester female, played by the excellent Cam Magee. This will open up very provocative options later.) “Attend the Lords of France and Burgundy.” This is not a persuasive leader; this is dad, directing dinner arrangements.
We all know what happens next, but we don’t know why. Lear is prepared to step off the throne, and give his kingdom up to his three daughters in equal shares, under certain preconditions: a hundred knights remain in his retinue, and he is (and they are) to have free access to his daughter’s homes, and also the “sway, revenue, execution of the rest”. He then requires his daughters to profess their love to him in the most grandiose manner possible. Goneril (Alyssa Sanders) and Regan (Charlene V. Smith), oozing insincerity, offer their fealty in terms usually reserved to catechists addressing their deity. Cordelia, his favorite, (Kathryn Zoerb) offers none — “I love your majesty according to my bond”. Lear responds by disinheriting Cordelia and dividing his Kingdom between his more fulsome daughters, and when his loyal lieutenant, Kent (a fabulous Vince Eisenson), attempts to intervene, Lear banishes Kent.
Is Lear a suppurating narcissist, who makes his decisions from a soft cradle of lies? Perhaps, though it is unlikely that so ill-equipped a leader would have been so successful a King. The anxious, tumbling way Foucheux approaches his speeches here suggests another explanation: that Lear knew the peril he would be in once he gave up his throne, and needed his heirs to, in this public place, swear a fealty so far-reaching that they could not deny it later without fear of fomenting rebellion.
Of course, it doesn’t work. Goneril and Regan immediately scheme to rein in their impulsive father, and if Lear doesn’t realize that he has condemned himself by surrendering power, he has his Fool (Christopher Henley, as good as I’ve seen him) to tell him. (When Lear asks, “Dost thou call me fool, boy?” the Fool answers “All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast born with.”)
So established, King Lear almost writes itself. Lear, divested of his Kingdom in favor of his children, gradually is divested of his selfhood. Goneril and Regan are both self-obsessed sociopaths who believe that their own rise to power is overdue, but their complaints against Lear are not without justice. The old King’s raucous retinue has caused much disruption in the Kingdom Goneril and her husband Albany (Christian R. Gibbs) rule, and when he decides to make a premature visit to the Kingdom Regan shares with her husband, the ruthlessly aggressive Cornwall (Frank Britton), they are unprepared for the demands of Lear and his large staff. This is not simply the story of the good King betrayed by his treacherous children; this is the story of the surrender of power to the next generation, whether in family, business, or state.
There is a subplot, involving Gloucester. She has two sons: Edmund (Dylan Morrison Myers), who was born out of wedlock, and Edgar (Sara Barker). Edmund is as ruthlessly ambitious as anyone in this play, and twice as clever; he implicates Edgar in a plot to overthrow their mother and, with his half-brother out of the way, proceeds to overthrow their mother. That done, he sets his designs on England itself, romancing Goneril and Regan alternately as he contemplates their murder, and that of their husbands.
WSC Avant Bard’s production is full of illuminating touches which makes this play both easier to understand and more important. Lear’s descent into madness seems to be a quick one, but is easier to understand if you assume, as Foucheux told me in this interview, that “he was always destined to be King…And he really considered himself a divine King.” When Lear rages, observe the number of times he glances upward. He is furious at Goneril and Regan, to be sure, but his most personal anger is directed at God. I’m Your boy, he seems to be saying. Why are You doing this to me?
The second enduring mystery to the play is the fate of the Fool. We last see him helping a stuporous Lear escape, on Gloucester’s urgent advice, to Dover; he never appears again. But in his final utterance, while under Albany’s custodial control, Lear says “my poor fool is hanged”. How does he know? What does he see? Foucheux talked about that, too. “There is that moment with [Lear] and Gloucester…he’s babbling, and there seems to be non sequiturs everywhere…Interestingly, last night…we talked about the Fool’s influence on Lear and how some of these non sequiturs and some of these things that might appear to be babbling from the King are in fact echoes of things that the Fool has said…Who is this character, the fool? Is he already a voice in Lear’s head? And nothing more?”
Henley is certainly more than a voice in Lear’s head: he is a vivid, mocking presence who torments Lear and pricks away at everyone else. But could such a creature actually exist? Dressed in clownish pinks, mincing and howling, the Fool says things to Lear far more cutting and insulting than any of the things Cordelia or Kent said that got them banished. Aside from that, the Fool radiates fear; in tense situations, he crouches down, covering his head with his hands, and when he hurls his cutting jibes, he ducks, much as a soldier throwing a hand grenade from a foxhole might. Is it possible that the only person who would be allowed to say such things to Lear is…Lear? And is it possible that this effeminate, fearful, needy Fool is the person who the hypermasculine Lear wishes he could be, at least once in a while? And when his poor fool is hanged, does Lear recognize that his own time has run out?
Finally, Prewitt’s decision to turn Gloucester’s gender enriches the play in a way that would have been impossible in Shakespeare’s time. Gloucester occupies a position somewhere between ally and subordinate; the obedience is loyal rather than servile. At the end of the play, each having been undone by untrustworthy progeny, they reach for each other free from the bonds of status and protocol. In this production, they hold each other and kiss unrestrainedly. What’s love got to do with it? Everything. Making Gloucester female accomplishes much more than that, though. With Magee as Gloucester, we get a different model of loyalty than we get from most male Gloucesters, freer of ego and without any sense of rivalry. Since our culture (like almost all) reveres the mother-child bond above all else, Edmund’s betrayal seems even more horrifying than it otherwise would. And when Cornwall exacts his terrible punishment on her (I won’t tell you what it is) the shock is so profound it is almost as though we were all profanely insulted.
By setting the play in anytime, Prewitt universalizes the story (Elizabeth Ennis’ beautiful costumes, many of which could be described as “military chic”, provide material assistance) and enables some terrific performances. Foucheux makes no effort to turn Lear into a sympathetic character, but we sympathize with him anyway because his dilemma is our own. His carefully nuanced performance opens the play up to us. Magee gives us a pitch-perfect version of a powerful woman dealing with an even more powerful contemporary; I could look at her performance and imagine Valerie Jarrett in the Obama Administration, or Condoleezza Rice in the administration of the second Bush.
Edmund is one of the best roles in all of Shakespeare and Myers gets all of it, ranting and snarling one moment and as soothing as Sominex(tm) the next. Like Richard III, he vents to the audience, but unlike Richard, Edmund is animated by the sheer joy of doing ill. Myers is absolutely credible at this; Myers’ Edmund is the character most likely to stick a shiv between your ribs. I’ve already mentioned Eisenson, who was a late addition to the cast. Kent is really the only heroic character in the play, and Eisenson helps us to understand why. He is a brave man, who tells truth to power without making too much of himself. The laconic drawl he adopts makes us see a man at ease in his surroundings; even when Cornwall puts him in stocks he accepts the humiliation with equanimity. (Amusingly, when he mockingly pretends to flatter Cornwall, he assumes a Scottish burr. That would have gone over well in 1605, when the play was first performed and England was ruled by the Scot James I.)
To appreciate how good a job Henley has done with the Fool, go back and read the play after you’ve seen it. You’ll see how hard the Fool’s line reads are; Shakespeare appeared to reserve the most archaic language for the Fool’s speeches. Yet I have never heard the Fool’s lines get more laughs than they did in WSC’s production. Henley delivers the lines with such precision, and such keen timing, that you would have to be, well, a fool not to laugh.
WSC Avant Bard operates on a small budget, but you could not tell it from the technical work, and in particular the lighting (John D. Alexander) and sound (Justin Schmitz) designs. When it was time for war, they gave us hell from the clash of armies at Thermopylae to the sound of mortar fire in Iraq. When it was time for a thunderstorm, they were so realistic that I checked at intermission to make sure that my car was not underwater.
It is always a melancholy moment when a great actor takes his leave from the stage, and as much as I enjoyed this show I know I will miss watching Rich Foucheux practice his art. There is some satisfaction, however, in seeing him finish by taking this iconic role, and imbuing it with the passion, gravitas, dignity and insight which has been his stock in trade for nearly forty years.
You won’t soon forget ‘Forgotten Kingdoms’
By Celia Wren
May 3, 2017
A small boy sits alone at the edge of a wooden jetty, dropping marbles into the sea. He is counting the splashing sounds the marbles make as they plummet into the waves. We can count them, too: The collision between toy and water makes a crisp, satisfying noise amid the broader susurration of the ocean.
Arriving in the first minute or two of “Forgotten Kingdoms,” this sequence exemplifies the vividness of this distinctive play by Randy Baker, receiving its world premiere from Rorschach Theatre. A tale of a troubled American missionary family and their circle of acquaintances on an isolated Indonesian island, “Forgotten Kingdoms” touches on such themes as culture clash, the legacy of colonialism and competition among religions, but it is far from an issue play. Bold, often poignant and sometimes too leisurely, the work extends an appealingly personal and idiosyncratic vision, rich in telling detail. The title may reference forgetting, but the play often seems as clear and specific as a total-recall memory.
Director Cara Gabriel capitalizes on that specificity in her production, which unfurls on, and around, an evocation of a wooden house built on stilts over the sea. (Debra Kim Sivigny designed the splendid set, as well as the costumes.) This is the home of David Holiday (Sun King Davis), who has moved to Indonesia with wife, Rebecca (Natalie Cutcher), and son Jimmy (Jeremy Gee) in hopes of spreading their Christian faith. His church has attracted congregants, but Rebecca is unhappy and Jimmy is unwell. When the Holidays receive a visit from Yusuf bin Ibrihim (Rizal Iwan), a quiet Muslim whom David has targeted for conversion, the conversation touches on such matters as the characters’ past missteps, Indonesian myth, the nature of truth and the story of Job. Along the way, the household’s uneasy peace veers into crisis.
All of the performers are quite watchable. In the biggest roles, Davis suggests cagey affability, while Iwan — a Jakarta-based Indonesian actor — convincingly exudes a reserved wariness. Also notable is Vishwas (he goes by one name), who is dynamic and engaging in the small role of a police officer. Design elements also are significant players: Sound designer Justin Schmitz contributes the invaluable ocean-wave noises that underscore the scenes. And lighting designer Tyler Dubuc artfully makes late-afternoon daylight fade into dusk and night, until you can see indoor lights gleaming between the boards of the house.
“Forgotten Kingdoms” is a long-aborning project for Baker, who is Rorschach’s co-artistic director: He grew up an American in Asia, hearing stories about his grandparents’ experiences as missionaries in Indonesia. The “Forgotten Kingdoms” script was developed in Indonesia and Malaysia, as well as in the United States. Over the course of its creation, the play acquired an enigmatic ending that some audience members may find frustrating. Others may find that the open-endedness reflects how different cultures, and different people, can gravitate to drastically differing perspectives.
Arriving in the first minute or two of “Forgotten Kingdoms,” this sequence exemplifies the vividness of this distinctive play by Randy Baker, receiving its world premiere from Rorschach Theatre. A tale of a troubled American missionary family and their circle of acquaintances on an isolated Indonesian island, “Forgotten Kingdoms” touches on such themes as culture clash, the legacy of colonialism and competition among religions, but it is far from an issue play. Bold, often poignant and sometimes too leisurely, the work extends an appealingly personal and idiosyncratic vision, rich in telling detail. The title may reference forgetting, but the play often seems as clear and specific as a total-recall memory.
Director Cara Gabriel capitalizes on that specificity in her production, which unfurls on, and around, an evocation of a wooden house built on stilts over the sea. (Debra Kim Sivigny designed the splendid set, as well as the costumes.) This is the home of David Holiday (Sun King Davis), who has moved to Indonesia with wife, Rebecca (Natalie Cutcher), and son Jimmy (Jeremy Gee) in hopes of spreading their Christian faith. His church has attracted congregants, but Rebecca is unhappy and Jimmy is unwell. When the Holidays receive a visit from Yusuf bin Ibrihim (Rizal Iwan), a quiet Muslim whom David has targeted for conversion, the conversation touches on such matters as the characters’ past missteps, Indonesian myth, the nature of truth and the story of Job. Along the way, the household’s uneasy peace veers into crisis.
All of the performers are quite watchable. In the biggest roles, Davis suggests cagey affability, while Iwan — a Jakarta-based Indonesian actor — convincingly exudes a reserved wariness. Also notable is Vishwas (he goes by one name), who is dynamic and engaging in the small role of a police officer. Design elements also are significant players: Sound designer Justin Schmitz contributes the invaluable ocean-wave noises that underscore the scenes. And lighting designer Tyler Dubuc artfully makes late-afternoon daylight fade into dusk and night, until you can see indoor lights gleaming between the boards of the house.
“Forgotten Kingdoms” is a long-aborning project for Baker, who is Rorschach’s co-artistic director: He grew up an American in Asia, hearing stories about his grandparents’ experiences as missionaries in Indonesia. The “Forgotten Kingdoms” script was developed in Indonesia and Malaysia, as well as in the United States. Over the course of its creation, the play acquired an enigmatic ending that some audience members may find frustrating. Others may find that the open-endedness reflects how different cultures, and different people, can gravitate to drastically differing perspectives.
Forgotten Kingdoms: Missionaries and Mysticism in Indonesia, at Rorschach (review)
by John Bavoso
May 2, 2017
“Sometimes, a greater truth is revealed when the facts are fuzzy,” says Rebecca Holiday (Natalie Cutcher) in the second act of Rorschach Theatre’s production of Randy Baker’s new play, Forgotten Kingdoms. It’s a line that not only resonates in our post-truth, “fake news” world, but perfectly encapsulates the story being told on stage.
Forgotten Kingdoms takes place on a small island in Indonesia, outside the home-on-a-pier on which Americans David Holiday and his wife Rebecca are making their lives as missionaries along with young son Jimmy. Their hanging-by-a-thread home life is thrown further into chaos by the arrival of Yusuf, the son of a well-respected local leader who has recently joined David’s flock. This production is a world premiere of Baker’s script, which was developed in Malaysia, Indonesia, and here in DC. The story is deeply personal for Baker, who was inspired to write it by his childhood growing up in Asia and the stories his grandfather, a Pentecostal missionary, would tell—and embellish. Though the events that unfold take place in 1983, the themes being addressed on stage—faith, truth, cultural exchange, forgiveness, the omnipresence of the past—are just as relevant in 2017.
As we enter this world, Yusuf’s father, who’s on death’s door, has been sent to talk to David, but he doesn’t understand why. Jimmy, he learns, has been suffering from seizures, speaking in riddles, and generally behaving oddly. His behavior has only gotten stranger since the night Jimmy joined his father as he healed a local girl through the power of his Christian faith, or so the story goes. Yusuf and David wind up engaging in a dance between Jesus and Allah, and the audience is let in on the fact that David hasn’t always been such a true believer and Rebecca may be less than thrilled with their family’s current living situation. Little do any of them know that events will soon change all their lives forever.
Baker’s script raises some thorny questions without offering any easy answers. Forgiveness is a major theme, and beyond the surface platitudes about God’s forgiveness come more nuanced quandaries about whether we ever can or should truly forgive ourselves for our past mistakes. And speaking of the past, the idea that the past is never really left behind and is, in fact, always present in the present. The characters grapple with this—for David and Rebecca, it’s their family’s past, while for Yusuf, who sees David’s presence on their island as yet another instance of his countrymen and women leaving their values and beliefs behind, it’s a matter of culture and history.
Major kudos must be given to the show’s designers; if there’s one thing that Rorschach does consistently well, it’s creating a world. Debra Kim Sivigny’s set design convincingly transforms the Atlas Performing Arts Center’s Sprenger Theater into a house on stilts, allowing for engrossing moments of theatricality—as the hanging gossamer fabrics sway in the air-conditioning, it’s easy to believe that they’re being moved by a tropical breeze instead. Justin Schmitz’s sound design expertly evokes the ocean, without ever overwhelming. The real star, however, is Tyler Dubuc’s subtle lighting design, which precisely evokes the transition to nightfall without ever calling too much attention to itself—except in the moments when it does, to dazzling effect.
Director Cara Gabriel does an excellent job of making the most of the limited space on the pier as the actors move ever-closer to the edge, both physically and emotionally.
Baker’s script offers plenty of bon mots (such as when David, with all the sincerity in the world, tells Yusuf “I’m not here to judge the past; I’m here to save the future”) that have the audience laughing, sighing, and even snapping along. Unfortunately, the exposition-saturated second act fails to deliver on the momentum and build-up of the first act, which ends with an exciting and intriguing bit of action. I found myself wondering whether the play may well have been stronger had it simply ended at intermission.
Forgotten Kingdoms is an ambitious and thought-provoking bit of world-building that is sure to spark a bevy of conversations among those lucky enough to see it. Mysticism mixed with the mundanity of everyday life reveals the ambiguity and potential for both misunderstanding and forgiveness that comes when different cultures with tightly-held beliefs butt up against one another.
Forgotten Kingdoms takes place on a small island in Indonesia, outside the home-on-a-pier on which Americans David Holiday and his wife Rebecca are making their lives as missionaries along with young son Jimmy. Their hanging-by-a-thread home life is thrown further into chaos by the arrival of Yusuf, the son of a well-respected local leader who has recently joined David’s flock. This production is a world premiere of Baker’s script, which was developed in Malaysia, Indonesia, and here in DC. The story is deeply personal for Baker, who was inspired to write it by his childhood growing up in Asia and the stories his grandfather, a Pentecostal missionary, would tell—and embellish. Though the events that unfold take place in 1983, the themes being addressed on stage—faith, truth, cultural exchange, forgiveness, the omnipresence of the past—are just as relevant in 2017.
As we enter this world, Yusuf’s father, who’s on death’s door, has been sent to talk to David, but he doesn’t understand why. Jimmy, he learns, has been suffering from seizures, speaking in riddles, and generally behaving oddly. His behavior has only gotten stranger since the night Jimmy joined his father as he healed a local girl through the power of his Christian faith, or so the story goes. Yusuf and David wind up engaging in a dance between Jesus and Allah, and the audience is let in on the fact that David hasn’t always been such a true believer and Rebecca may be less than thrilled with their family’s current living situation. Little do any of them know that events will soon change all their lives forever.
Baker’s script raises some thorny questions without offering any easy answers. Forgiveness is a major theme, and beyond the surface platitudes about God’s forgiveness come more nuanced quandaries about whether we ever can or should truly forgive ourselves for our past mistakes. And speaking of the past, the idea that the past is never really left behind and is, in fact, always present in the present. The characters grapple with this—for David and Rebecca, it’s their family’s past, while for Yusuf, who sees David’s presence on their island as yet another instance of his countrymen and women leaving their values and beliefs behind, it’s a matter of culture and history.
Major kudos must be given to the show’s designers; if there’s one thing that Rorschach does consistently well, it’s creating a world. Debra Kim Sivigny’s set design convincingly transforms the Atlas Performing Arts Center’s Sprenger Theater into a house on stilts, allowing for engrossing moments of theatricality—as the hanging gossamer fabrics sway in the air-conditioning, it’s easy to believe that they’re being moved by a tropical breeze instead. Justin Schmitz’s sound design expertly evokes the ocean, without ever overwhelming. The real star, however, is Tyler Dubuc’s subtle lighting design, which precisely evokes the transition to nightfall without ever calling too much attention to itself—except in the moments when it does, to dazzling effect.
Director Cara Gabriel does an excellent job of making the most of the limited space on the pier as the actors move ever-closer to the edge, both physically and emotionally.
Baker’s script offers plenty of bon mots (such as when David, with all the sincerity in the world, tells Yusuf “I’m not here to judge the past; I’m here to save the future”) that have the audience laughing, sighing, and even snapping along. Unfortunately, the exposition-saturated second act fails to deliver on the momentum and build-up of the first act, which ends with an exciting and intriguing bit of action. I found myself wondering whether the play may well have been stronger had it simply ended at intermission.
Forgotten Kingdoms is an ambitious and thought-provoking bit of world-building that is sure to spark a bevy of conversations among those lucky enough to see it. Mysticism mixed with the mundanity of everyday life reveals the ambiguity and potential for both misunderstanding and forgiveness that comes when different cultures with tightly-held beliefs butt up against one another.
BWW Review: RORSCHACH THEATRE World Premiere, FORGOTTEN KINGDOMS
by Roger Catlin
May. 2, 2017
Randy Baker drew from his own upbringing in Asia to craft his play "Forgotten Kingdoms," getting a world premiere at Rorschach Theatre, where he is co-artistic director. Growing up as son of teachers and the grandson of a Pentacostal missionary, Baker sensed the underlying ideological friction between the incoming Christians and the Muslims of the island where they settled.
After a long road of development that began as his graduate school thesis in 2012, "Forgotten Kingdoms" was workshopped in Houston, New York and in D.C., including a staged reading at the Kennedy Center as part of the Page to Stage Festival. It got further development in the places that inspired him - Malaysia and Indonesia, including a public reading in Jakarta. Over time, it's become this tense family drama with an embedded mystery that becomes a metaphor for the promise and uses of religion. In addition to the fertile debate on the nature of faith (and the sheer presumptuousness of missionaries) there are several dramatic hooks on which to grasp. And Baker's own experience adds the kind of precise detail that makes the story, as fantastic as it becomes, rooted in truth.
A major benefit of the Jakarta readings came not only in seeing how it played to that culture, but in snagging one of its actors, Rizal Iwan, to return to make the trip to D.C. to play the role of Yusuf, the son of a local leader who is trying to come to terms with the missionary family. (He's here with help from the Indonesian embassy). The family itself is having its own problems that unravel as the play goes on. The first to be recognized is the son (Jeremy Gee), who seems to be on his own wavelength as he spends time on the home on stilts surrounded by water. The locals think he's haunted. Whether he is on the autistic spectrum or simply given to daily escapes from home because of a skittish mother is not clear. The mother, well played by Natalie Cutcher, has her own reasons for her spotty maternal style, and carries a burden of guilt because of it. The father (Sun King Davis) has a gregariousness that identifies him as a good candidate to become an evangelical pastor, but also an underlying fear of the fragility of his family based on his own less than pious past in Yakima, Wash.
Director Cara Gabriel keeps a nice balance between the immediacy of the domestic turmoil and the theological discussions on religion and cultural coercion. Deb Sevigny's considerable set - comprised of the porch of the house on stilts surrounded by water and a long jetty to get there - looks good and plays well, emphasizing the Western family's distance from the community it inhabits and attempts to influence. The water underneath is indicated by cloth roiling and enhanced by Justin Schmitz' sound, picking up the splashes of things that drop into the water, big and small. And the sounds of the ocean ebbs and flows, disappearing at times altogether in the way that one blocks the sound of the ocean out some times. Tyler Dubuc's light design is so subtle you can barely tell the sun going down and blackness engulfing the set as night falls.
All the workshopping on the play has made it a solid work indeed, and what they learn from this production will likely make it even better, as it seems just a step or two from a great American play. Which is exciting to see on H Street.
After a long road of development that began as his graduate school thesis in 2012, "Forgotten Kingdoms" was workshopped in Houston, New York and in D.C., including a staged reading at the Kennedy Center as part of the Page to Stage Festival. It got further development in the places that inspired him - Malaysia and Indonesia, including a public reading in Jakarta. Over time, it's become this tense family drama with an embedded mystery that becomes a metaphor for the promise and uses of religion. In addition to the fertile debate on the nature of faith (and the sheer presumptuousness of missionaries) there are several dramatic hooks on which to grasp. And Baker's own experience adds the kind of precise detail that makes the story, as fantastic as it becomes, rooted in truth.
A major benefit of the Jakarta readings came not only in seeing how it played to that culture, but in snagging one of its actors, Rizal Iwan, to return to make the trip to D.C. to play the role of Yusuf, the son of a local leader who is trying to come to terms with the missionary family. (He's here with help from the Indonesian embassy). The family itself is having its own problems that unravel as the play goes on. The first to be recognized is the son (Jeremy Gee), who seems to be on his own wavelength as he spends time on the home on stilts surrounded by water. The locals think he's haunted. Whether he is on the autistic spectrum or simply given to daily escapes from home because of a skittish mother is not clear. The mother, well played by Natalie Cutcher, has her own reasons for her spotty maternal style, and carries a burden of guilt because of it. The father (Sun King Davis) has a gregariousness that identifies him as a good candidate to become an evangelical pastor, but also an underlying fear of the fragility of his family based on his own less than pious past in Yakima, Wash.
Director Cara Gabriel keeps a nice balance between the immediacy of the domestic turmoil and the theological discussions on religion and cultural coercion. Deb Sevigny's considerable set - comprised of the porch of the house on stilts surrounded by water and a long jetty to get there - looks good and plays well, emphasizing the Western family's distance from the community it inhabits and attempts to influence. The water underneath is indicated by cloth roiling and enhanced by Justin Schmitz' sound, picking up the splashes of things that drop into the water, big and small. And the sounds of the ocean ebbs and flows, disappearing at times altogether in the way that one blocks the sound of the ocean out some times. Tyler Dubuc's light design is so subtle you can barely tell the sun going down and blackness engulfing the set as night falls.
All the workshopping on the play has made it a solid work indeed, and what they learn from this production will likely make it even better, as it seems just a step or two from a great American play. Which is exciting to see on H Street.
Review: ‘Forgotten Kingdoms’ at Rorschach Theatre
by John Stoltenberg
April 30, 2017
There are mysteries of belief and faith beneath this fascinating parable of a play, roiling like the seawater that churns below the wooden house where its action takes place. This house is built on stilts on the coast of a small island in Indonesia. The sounds of water lapping and surf breaking and the liquid reflections of light upon its moving surface never cease. Part cross-cultural collision, part family melodrama, part theological thriller, part audacious myth-making, Rorschach Theatre’s Forgotten Kingdoms contains such rich content it’s like riding a rip tide.
Playwright Randy Baker grew up in Singapore, grandson of a missionary, and he has set this play at the home of an American missionary based loosely on his grandfather and the stories Baker remembers he told. But beyond that biographical mooring and Baker’s lived familiarity with the locale, Forgotten Kingdoms is an act of fictive imagination that immerses its audience’s attention like a Williams or O’Neill.
David Holiday is the missionary, played by Sun King Davis with pitch-perfect preacher’s zeal, demons within to boot. His wife, Rebecca Holiday, has dutifully followed him to this remote outpost with not nearly his enthusiasm. They met in a bar in Yakima, Washington, when he was a lush and a lothario. She, already a Christian, was working there as a bartender and determined to save him. She succeeded, he turned into an impassioned man of the cloth, and now she’s stir-crazy-stuck in this house on stilts, a stay-at-home mom for their troubled and troublesome son, Jimmy, whom she calls, not inaccurately, “weird.” Susceptible to seizures, he sometimes wanders off alone without warning. (He is played with eerie authenticity by Jeremy Gee; we can believe he may be haunted, as locals say). Natalie Cutcher captures Rebecca’s conflicted affection for her husband and frustrating concern for Jimmy along with her ongoing anger and bitterness. As Rebecca puts it one point, “Hell is getting what you want.”
Hinted at there are the makings of the hellish domestic confrontation that blows up in Act Two like an electrical storm, in a scene played with gale force by Davis and Cutcher. Their dispute—about, among other things, who saved whom—delivers a jolt to the play that raises all the wattage thereafter.
Act One is more measured and methodical as Baker sets forth the engrossing cross-cultural conflicts and theological arguments that underlie the action. Playing antagonist to David’s Christian triumphalism is a local named Yusuf bin Ibrihim, who is Muslim and whose wife and father attend David’s Sunday services. From Yusuf we learn of the island’s culture, the kingdom that was displaced and suppressed by colonialist kingdoms from one country after another.
We also learn David has healing powers. Or maybe doesn’t. Depends who is telling the story. And who is changing it. This is among the conundrums of faith and belief that wash ashore in Forgotten Kingdoms like messages in bottles. Yusuf’s father is dying—an offstage death that will come to be resonant with religious symbolism. And Yusuf has a strangely simpatico connection with Jimmy, who at the end figures into the religious symbolism in a breathtakingly mythic way. In the performance of Indonesian actor Rizal Iwan, Yusef is given a very moving, very soulful presence that grounds the play’s provocative spirituality.
Just before intermission there’s a shocker, the gasp-out-loud kind. This precipitates the arrival in Act Two of a fifth character, a member of David’s congregation named Officer Togar, on official investigative business, played solidly by Vishwas.
Director Cara Gabriel conducts the panoramic scope of this play with orchestral dimension. The set by Debra Kim Sivigny, who also did costumes, is alone worth the trip to H Street to see this show. (The aroma of fresh-sawed lumber lingers in the air, testament to the hand-wrought stagecraft on display.) Lighting Designer Tyler Dubuc makes this ever-flowing world beside the sea seem real. And sound Designer Justin Schmitz, whose eloquent water effects underscore all, composes an opener for each act with the sort of stirring music that typically begins big movies.
I cannot say for certain what Forgotten Kingdoms is “about.” But I sensed at every turn there is an ocean of meaning within it—like an ebb and flow of stories and emotions that touch on faith and belief yet never explain it, never contain it. And just how deep is that ocean can be known only by diving in.
Playwright Randy Baker grew up in Singapore, grandson of a missionary, and he has set this play at the home of an American missionary based loosely on his grandfather and the stories Baker remembers he told. But beyond that biographical mooring and Baker’s lived familiarity with the locale, Forgotten Kingdoms is an act of fictive imagination that immerses its audience’s attention like a Williams or O’Neill.
David Holiday is the missionary, played by Sun King Davis with pitch-perfect preacher’s zeal, demons within to boot. His wife, Rebecca Holiday, has dutifully followed him to this remote outpost with not nearly his enthusiasm. They met in a bar in Yakima, Washington, when he was a lush and a lothario. She, already a Christian, was working there as a bartender and determined to save him. She succeeded, he turned into an impassioned man of the cloth, and now she’s stir-crazy-stuck in this house on stilts, a stay-at-home mom for their troubled and troublesome son, Jimmy, whom she calls, not inaccurately, “weird.” Susceptible to seizures, he sometimes wanders off alone without warning. (He is played with eerie authenticity by Jeremy Gee; we can believe he may be haunted, as locals say). Natalie Cutcher captures Rebecca’s conflicted affection for her husband and frustrating concern for Jimmy along with her ongoing anger and bitterness. As Rebecca puts it one point, “Hell is getting what you want.”
Hinted at there are the makings of the hellish domestic confrontation that blows up in Act Two like an electrical storm, in a scene played with gale force by Davis and Cutcher. Their dispute—about, among other things, who saved whom—delivers a jolt to the play that raises all the wattage thereafter.
Act One is more measured and methodical as Baker sets forth the engrossing cross-cultural conflicts and theological arguments that underlie the action. Playing antagonist to David’s Christian triumphalism is a local named Yusuf bin Ibrihim, who is Muslim and whose wife and father attend David’s Sunday services. From Yusuf we learn of the island’s culture, the kingdom that was displaced and suppressed by colonialist kingdoms from one country after another.
We also learn David has healing powers. Or maybe doesn’t. Depends who is telling the story. And who is changing it. This is among the conundrums of faith and belief that wash ashore in Forgotten Kingdoms like messages in bottles. Yusuf’s father is dying—an offstage death that will come to be resonant with religious symbolism. And Yusuf has a strangely simpatico connection with Jimmy, who at the end figures into the religious symbolism in a breathtakingly mythic way. In the performance of Indonesian actor Rizal Iwan, Yusef is given a very moving, very soulful presence that grounds the play’s provocative spirituality.
Just before intermission there’s a shocker, the gasp-out-loud kind. This precipitates the arrival in Act Two of a fifth character, a member of David’s congregation named Officer Togar, on official investigative business, played solidly by Vishwas.
Director Cara Gabriel conducts the panoramic scope of this play with orchestral dimension. The set by Debra Kim Sivigny, who also did costumes, is alone worth the trip to H Street to see this show. (The aroma of fresh-sawed lumber lingers in the air, testament to the hand-wrought stagecraft on display.) Lighting Designer Tyler Dubuc makes this ever-flowing world beside the sea seem real. And sound Designer Justin Schmitz, whose eloquent water effects underscore all, composes an opener for each act with the sort of stirring music that typically begins big movies.
I cannot say for certain what Forgotten Kingdoms is “about.” But I sensed at every turn there is an ocean of meaning within it—like an ebb and flow of stories and emotions that touch on faith and belief yet never explain it, never contain it. And just how deep is that ocean can be known only by diving in.
Take Ten: Justin Schmitz
BY MICHAEL KYRIOGLOU
APRIL 19, 2017
A sound designer with proven “moxie,” JUSTIN SCHMITZ brings his aural magic to the world premiere of Randy Baker’s Forgotten Kingdoms at Rorschach Theatrethrough May 21. Check out this week’s Take Ten to share his longing for a Ziegfeld Follies past, a Ryan Reynolds future, and a perpetual journey Into the Woods.
1) What was the first show you ever saw, and what impact did it have?
The first show I ever saw that I can remember was The Nutcracker. I distinctly remember the Mother Gertrude moment in Act 2 where 45 people came pouring out from under her dress, and at 5 years of age, that was magic like I had never scene. From then I knew I wanted to create magic that everyone could love as much as I did.
2) What was your first involvement in a theatrical production?
First theatrical experience was in high school during a Madrigal dinner feaste. I had sung a soprano opera aria during a concert 3 months before hand and was asked to join the cast of a show because of the moxie of the song. I ended up playing a king in the production.
3) What’s your favorite play or musical, and why do you like it so much?
The running joke is that almost every musical is my favorite musical, but at the end of the day, the musical I always turn to is Into The Woods. Sondheim’s brilliance shines through in asking adults to think about the dreams we had as children, what happened to us when we got those dreams? What has become of the person we were before we got what we wanted?
4) What’s the worst day job you ever took?
Ooof! That’s tough. I’d have to say dish-washing for a local tavern back in WI was the worst, it was fun working with my godmother, but I distinctly remember my back aching for days afterword. Perhaps that’s why I always seek dishwashers in apartment searches.
5) What is your most embarrassing moment in the theatre?
My most embarrassing moment would have to be firing a full sequence of cues that I had created, sculpted, and rehearsed for days and days, at completely the wrong time. It completely ruined the moment and I felt just shocked that I had mis-fired a cue.
6) What are you enjoying most about working on Forgotten Kingdoms at Rorschach Theatre?
The collaboration! Everyone at Rorschach is so collaborative, we’ve had amazing conversations about this piece that Randy has created, and have come together to really create amazing art.
7) Other than your significant other, who’s your dream date (living or dead) and why?
Ryan Reynolds still makes me swoon. He’s got that charm and smile that makes you melt into a thousand pieces, not to mention his great ability to be a wonderful father to his child, and let’s not forget those washboard abs!
8) What is your dream role/job?
My dream role/job is teaching at a university. I’ve always been a teacher at heart, and I cannot wait to one day join the ranks of professors everywhere impacting lives and bringing new people into the magical realm of sound design.
9) If you could travel back in time, what famous production or performance would you choose to see?
I would absolutely love to see a Ziegfeld show in its glory days. I think being able to see that former glory of theatre performance would be a treat to see when the world wasn’t as connected as it is today, and the music of a full orchestra reigned supreme.
10) What advice would you give to an 8-year-old smitten by theatre / for a graduating MFA student?
To an 8-year old: explore every opportunity you can while you grow up, never lose the magic. To an MFA graduating individual- remember the magic, remember why you chose the field; harness that feeling and use it to propel you distances unimagined. Try everything, attempt the impossible, and go with your soul.
JUSTIN SCHMITZ is a sound designer and theatre artist based in Washington DC. He has designed sound for: The Kennedy Center, The Kennedy Center’s Theatre For Young Audiences, Signature Theatre, Round House, Theater J, Olney Theatre Center, Studio Theatre, Imagination Stage, Shakespeare Theatre Company, Forum, Rorschach, WSC Avant Bard, Dixon Place, Chautauqua Theatre Company, Triad Stage, Catholic University, Gallaudet University, The University of Maryland, among others. He is a 2017 Helen Hayes Award nominee for his work on I Call My Brothers (Forum Theatre) and received fellowships from The Kennedy Center’s Kenan Institute, KCACTF to attend The Orchard Project, and Chautauqua Theatre Company. He has performed with Carol Burnett in her one-woman show Carol Burnett, Laughter and Reflection and in June, will be singing at Carnegie Hall in the Octavo Series. Justin has started a theatre company with local artists, Do Good Theatre, with a desire to use art to inspire social change. He holds a Masters of Fine Arts from The University of North Carolina School of the Arts in Sound Design for Theatre, and a Bachelor of Arts from The University of Wisconsin – La Crosse in Theatrical Design, Technology, and Stage Management Visit www.justinschmitztheatre.com or www.dogoodtheatre.com.
1) What was the first show you ever saw, and what impact did it have?
The first show I ever saw that I can remember was The Nutcracker. I distinctly remember the Mother Gertrude moment in Act 2 where 45 people came pouring out from under her dress, and at 5 years of age, that was magic like I had never scene. From then I knew I wanted to create magic that everyone could love as much as I did.
2) What was your first involvement in a theatrical production?
First theatrical experience was in high school during a Madrigal dinner feaste. I had sung a soprano opera aria during a concert 3 months before hand and was asked to join the cast of a show because of the moxie of the song. I ended up playing a king in the production.
3) What’s your favorite play or musical, and why do you like it so much?
The running joke is that almost every musical is my favorite musical, but at the end of the day, the musical I always turn to is Into The Woods. Sondheim’s brilliance shines through in asking adults to think about the dreams we had as children, what happened to us when we got those dreams? What has become of the person we were before we got what we wanted?
4) What’s the worst day job you ever took?
Ooof! That’s tough. I’d have to say dish-washing for a local tavern back in WI was the worst, it was fun working with my godmother, but I distinctly remember my back aching for days afterword. Perhaps that’s why I always seek dishwashers in apartment searches.
5) What is your most embarrassing moment in the theatre?
My most embarrassing moment would have to be firing a full sequence of cues that I had created, sculpted, and rehearsed for days and days, at completely the wrong time. It completely ruined the moment and I felt just shocked that I had mis-fired a cue.
6) What are you enjoying most about working on Forgotten Kingdoms at Rorschach Theatre?
The collaboration! Everyone at Rorschach is so collaborative, we’ve had amazing conversations about this piece that Randy has created, and have come together to really create amazing art.
7) Other than your significant other, who’s your dream date (living or dead) and why?
Ryan Reynolds still makes me swoon. He’s got that charm and smile that makes you melt into a thousand pieces, not to mention his great ability to be a wonderful father to his child, and let’s not forget those washboard abs!
8) What is your dream role/job?
My dream role/job is teaching at a university. I’ve always been a teacher at heart, and I cannot wait to one day join the ranks of professors everywhere impacting lives and bringing new people into the magical realm of sound design.
9) If you could travel back in time, what famous production or performance would you choose to see?
I would absolutely love to see a Ziegfeld show in its glory days. I think being able to see that former glory of theatre performance would be a treat to see when the world wasn’t as connected as it is today, and the music of a full orchestra reigned supreme.
10) What advice would you give to an 8-year-old smitten by theatre / for a graduating MFA student?
To an 8-year old: explore every opportunity you can while you grow up, never lose the magic. To an MFA graduating individual- remember the magic, remember why you chose the field; harness that feeling and use it to propel you distances unimagined. Try everything, attempt the impossible, and go with your soul.
JUSTIN SCHMITZ is a sound designer and theatre artist based in Washington DC. He has designed sound for: The Kennedy Center, The Kennedy Center’s Theatre For Young Audiences, Signature Theatre, Round House, Theater J, Olney Theatre Center, Studio Theatre, Imagination Stage, Shakespeare Theatre Company, Forum, Rorschach, WSC Avant Bard, Dixon Place, Chautauqua Theatre Company, Triad Stage, Catholic University, Gallaudet University, The University of Maryland, among others. He is a 2017 Helen Hayes Award nominee for his work on I Call My Brothers (Forum Theatre) and received fellowships from The Kennedy Center’s Kenan Institute, KCACTF to attend The Orchard Project, and Chautauqua Theatre Company. He has performed with Carol Burnett in her one-woman show Carol Burnett, Laughter and Reflection and in June, will be singing at Carnegie Hall in the Octavo Series. Justin has started a theatre company with local artists, Do Good Theatre, with a desire to use art to inspire social change. He holds a Masters of Fine Arts from The University of North Carolina School of the Arts in Sound Design for Theatre, and a Bachelor of Arts from The University of Wisconsin – La Crosse in Theatrical Design, Technology, and Stage Management Visit www.justinschmitztheatre.com or www.dogoodtheatre.com.
Review: ‘The Gospel at Colonus’ at Avant Bard
by Julia Hurley
March 1, 2017
In 1983, experimental theatre director Lee Breuer wrote and directed a musical that became a worldwide sensation. Blending Black church gospel music and Motown with a story of Greek tragedy, Breuer’s words and Bob Telson’s score created an entirely unique adaptation of Sophocles’ play Oedipus at Colonus. No one had imagined such a fusion of cultures thousands of years apart could work, and yet Colonus manages to pull these elements into a parable about the times we live in. Now, Jennifer L. Nelson’s production at Avant Bard breathes new life into this timeless tale.
The musical follows the same plot as Sophocles’ of old, with one twist: the entire story is told through the lens of a Black church service, with a deep-voiced preacher regaling the choir and congregation with stories from “The Book of Oedipus.” The Preacher Oedipus, narrating most of the non-musical portions of the show, shares the Oedipus character with his blind Singing Oedipus counterpart. These roles are played alternately with great warmth, earth-shaking wrath and deep sadness by DeMone (Singer Oedipus) and William T. Newman Jr. (Preacher Oedipus), the latter of whom also serves as chief judge on Arlington Circuit Court.
Set after the events of Oedipus Rex, this show tells the story of Oedipus’ later life, having blinded and exiled himself in retaliation for his tragic sins. Guided by his daughter Antigone (Tiffany Byrd), he comes upon the city of Colonus, where a prophecy foretold that he should be laid to rest. He is immediately reunited with his other daughter, Ismene (Ashley D. Buster). The citizens of Colonus initially reject him—in “Stop; Do Not Go On,” they are represented by the chorus (Branden Mack, Rafealito Ross) and Balladeer (Chauncey Matthews) surrounding and hounding him in an effort to keep their city free from the stain of his sin. Their leader Theseus (A.J. Calbert) is swayed by Oedipus’ requests for grace (“A Voice Foretold,”), and allows them to stay. The sinner-turned-refugee is welcomed with opened arms, and all seems well until Oedipus’ brother-in-law Creon (e’Marcus Harper-Short), and later his son Polyneices (Greg Watkins), appear, desiring to use him for their own ends. The Women’s Ecumenical Choir provides additional vocals and audible reactions to the stories being told, aiding the idea of a church service.
Jennifer L. Nelson’s production favors intimate spirituality over the “megachurch” setting of previous interpretations. Set Designer Tim Jones places the show on top of a hill, with the piano and drums (played by Harper-Short and Abdou “CleanHandz” Muhammad, respectively) sitting at the top, directly next to the preacher’s pulpit. Leafy canopy hangs from above. Combined with Lighting Designer John D. Alexander and Sound Designer Justin Schmitz’s lifelike outdoor atmosphere that culminates in a thunderstorm at one point in the play, the production evokes the idea of a spirituality connected with nature and alludes to the Greek tradition of producing theater out in the open. The audience becomes a part of the action as actors walk through aisles and directly address people; they aren’t so much onlookers as part of the congregation, wrapped around the stage and moved to participate and respond in the tradition of black churches. Costume Designer Danielle Preston dresses all the actors in their Sunday best, with Greek-inspired flowing dresses for the women and suits and ties for the men, all in rich, royal colors and with a bit of an African touch to pattern and design.
Lee Breuer’s The Gospel at Colonus is a celebration of intense emotion. The story is one of human failing, but also of redemption and the potential for kindness, and it is told in great part through music: mournful, dark, joyful, celebratory, and always flowing from the powerful energy of the performers. Oedipus’ story becomes not so much a tragedy as a celebration of love, especially when it comes to giving refuge to outcasts—a message that still resonates today, perhaps even more than the playwright originally intended.
The musical follows the same plot as Sophocles’ of old, with one twist: the entire story is told through the lens of a Black church service, with a deep-voiced preacher regaling the choir and congregation with stories from “The Book of Oedipus.” The Preacher Oedipus, narrating most of the non-musical portions of the show, shares the Oedipus character with his blind Singing Oedipus counterpart. These roles are played alternately with great warmth, earth-shaking wrath and deep sadness by DeMone (Singer Oedipus) and William T. Newman Jr. (Preacher Oedipus), the latter of whom also serves as chief judge on Arlington Circuit Court.
Set after the events of Oedipus Rex, this show tells the story of Oedipus’ later life, having blinded and exiled himself in retaliation for his tragic sins. Guided by his daughter Antigone (Tiffany Byrd), he comes upon the city of Colonus, where a prophecy foretold that he should be laid to rest. He is immediately reunited with his other daughter, Ismene (Ashley D. Buster). The citizens of Colonus initially reject him—in “Stop; Do Not Go On,” they are represented by the chorus (Branden Mack, Rafealito Ross) and Balladeer (Chauncey Matthews) surrounding and hounding him in an effort to keep their city free from the stain of his sin. Their leader Theseus (A.J. Calbert) is swayed by Oedipus’ requests for grace (“A Voice Foretold,”), and allows them to stay. The sinner-turned-refugee is welcomed with opened arms, and all seems well until Oedipus’ brother-in-law Creon (e’Marcus Harper-Short), and later his son Polyneices (Greg Watkins), appear, desiring to use him for their own ends. The Women’s Ecumenical Choir provides additional vocals and audible reactions to the stories being told, aiding the idea of a church service.
Jennifer L. Nelson’s production favors intimate spirituality over the “megachurch” setting of previous interpretations. Set Designer Tim Jones places the show on top of a hill, with the piano and drums (played by Harper-Short and Abdou “CleanHandz” Muhammad, respectively) sitting at the top, directly next to the preacher’s pulpit. Leafy canopy hangs from above. Combined with Lighting Designer John D. Alexander and Sound Designer Justin Schmitz’s lifelike outdoor atmosphere that culminates in a thunderstorm at one point in the play, the production evokes the idea of a spirituality connected with nature and alludes to the Greek tradition of producing theater out in the open. The audience becomes a part of the action as actors walk through aisles and directly address people; they aren’t so much onlookers as part of the congregation, wrapped around the stage and moved to participate and respond in the tradition of black churches. Costume Designer Danielle Preston dresses all the actors in their Sunday best, with Greek-inspired flowing dresses for the women and suits and ties for the men, all in rich, royal colors and with a bit of an African touch to pattern and design.
Lee Breuer’s The Gospel at Colonus is a celebration of intense emotion. The story is one of human failing, but also of redemption and the potential for kindness, and it is told in great part through music: mournful, dark, joyful, celebratory, and always flowing from the powerful energy of the performers. Oedipus’ story becomes not so much a tragedy as a celebration of love, especially when it comes to giving refuge to outcasts—a message that still resonates today, perhaps even more than the playwright originally intended.
Sing out, Oedipus! ‘Gospel at Colonus’ looks its Sunday best
By: Nelson Pressley
March 1, 2017
It’s not just that rich voices lift heavenward in WSC Avant Bard’s fine new staging of “The Gospel at Colonus.” It’s the elegance, the ceremony — the lofty mix of Greek drama, with all its grim fate, and the redemption of choral music meant to jolt you joyously out of your seat.
Jennifer L. Nelson’s lively, pocket-size production is smartly tailored for the small Theater II in the Gunston Arts Center in Arlington. The audience is only a couple of rows deep, arranged in a semicircle around a stage that looks like an ancient outcropping of rock. Propelled by musical director/keyboardist e’Marcus Harper-Short and percussionist Abdou “CleanHandz” Muhammad, the singers perform mostly without microphones. The soulful, thoughtful performances fill the room beautifully.
“The Gospel at Colonus” was a 1980s phenomenon engineered by Mabou Mines ringleader Lee Breuer, who brought his prestige hit from New York to Arena Stage in 1984 with a cast (hold your breath) of 57 that included Morgan Freeman. “Rarely has the stage appeared so full,” a Post critic wrote at the time. Nelson’s production is big for its stage, too: The cast of 10 is augmented by seven singers of minister Becky Mays Jenkins’s Women’s Ecumenical Choir. The grace of the show, though, is that it never feels swollen or pushy. It’s as dignified as church, even when it raises the roof.
Oedipus is already blind and staggering toward death in Sophocles’ later play “Oedipus at Colonus,” and the musical adaptation divides the tragic character in half. The balanced mirror images are William T. Newman Jr. as Preacher Oedipus and DeMone as Singer Oedipus, each performing with philosophical gravity. Newman brings a deep, reflective sense and rumbling tones to his role as the preacher, while DeMone’s singing draws notes of pain and hope in long, soft phrases and impassioned outbursts.
Nelson’s show looks as good as it sounds. Danielle Preston’s costumes are snappy suits for the men accented with African-themed sashes or hats, while the women get bright, timeless-looking gowns that nod toward ancient Greece. Sandra Holloway’s dances glide nicely across the small stage — no clutter — and John D. Alexander’s lights leave a lot of the room black, creating an illusion of an eternal sacred space
It’s not a highly plotted show, though a bit of drama is created when Creon (Harper-Short, stepping out from behind his onstage keyboard) tries to lure Oedipus away from Colonus and when Polyneices (Greg Watkins) arrives to the song “Evil” with the collar popped on his suit jacket. The cast is impressively even: A.J. Calbert is a gracious Theseus, Chauncey Matthews is a silky voiced balladeer, Tiffany Byrd and Ashley Buster are pitiable as Oedipus’s daughters-sisters, and Branden Mack and Rafealito Ross add choral strength. All around, the voices are sturdy and the demeanor is devout.
You can feel the gospel cadence in the titles of Bob Telson’s songs: “Stop: Do Not Go On!,” “Come Back Home,” “Now Let the Weeping Cease.” DeMone and the chorus make thrilling drama of “Lift Me Up (Like a Dove),” which has a dusky, rousing hook, and the finish doesn’t stoop to manipulating a standing ovation. It genuinely makes you want to rise and clap along.
Jennifer L. Nelson’s lively, pocket-size production is smartly tailored for the small Theater II in the Gunston Arts Center in Arlington. The audience is only a couple of rows deep, arranged in a semicircle around a stage that looks like an ancient outcropping of rock. Propelled by musical director/keyboardist e’Marcus Harper-Short and percussionist Abdou “CleanHandz” Muhammad, the singers perform mostly without microphones. The soulful, thoughtful performances fill the room beautifully.
“The Gospel at Colonus” was a 1980s phenomenon engineered by Mabou Mines ringleader Lee Breuer, who brought his prestige hit from New York to Arena Stage in 1984 with a cast (hold your breath) of 57 that included Morgan Freeman. “Rarely has the stage appeared so full,” a Post critic wrote at the time. Nelson’s production is big for its stage, too: The cast of 10 is augmented by seven singers of minister Becky Mays Jenkins’s Women’s Ecumenical Choir. The grace of the show, though, is that it never feels swollen or pushy. It’s as dignified as church, even when it raises the roof.
Oedipus is already blind and staggering toward death in Sophocles’ later play “Oedipus at Colonus,” and the musical adaptation divides the tragic character in half. The balanced mirror images are William T. Newman Jr. as Preacher Oedipus and DeMone as Singer Oedipus, each performing with philosophical gravity. Newman brings a deep, reflective sense and rumbling tones to his role as the preacher, while DeMone’s singing draws notes of pain and hope in long, soft phrases and impassioned outbursts.
Nelson’s show looks as good as it sounds. Danielle Preston’s costumes are snappy suits for the men accented with African-themed sashes or hats, while the women get bright, timeless-looking gowns that nod toward ancient Greece. Sandra Holloway’s dances glide nicely across the small stage — no clutter — and John D. Alexander’s lights leave a lot of the room black, creating an illusion of an eternal sacred space
It’s not a highly plotted show, though a bit of drama is created when Creon (Harper-Short, stepping out from behind his onstage keyboard) tries to lure Oedipus away from Colonus and when Polyneices (Greg Watkins) arrives to the song “Evil” with the collar popped on his suit jacket. The cast is impressively even: A.J. Calbert is a gracious Theseus, Chauncey Matthews is a silky voiced balladeer, Tiffany Byrd and Ashley Buster are pitiable as Oedipus’s daughters-sisters, and Branden Mack and Rafealito Ross add choral strength. All around, the voices are sturdy and the demeanor is devout.
You can feel the gospel cadence in the titles of Bob Telson’s songs: “Stop: Do Not Go On!,” “Come Back Home,” “Now Let the Weeping Cease.” DeMone and the chorus make thrilling drama of “Lift Me Up (Like a Dove),” which has a dusky, rousing hook, and the finish doesn’t stoop to manipulating a standing ovation. It genuinely makes you want to rise and clap along.
BWW Review: I WANNA FUCKING TEAR YOU APART at Studio Theatre
by Jenny Minich
Feb. 7, 2017
ln the world premiere of I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart, playwright and director Morgan Gould explores a friendship between two people who aren't "normal."
Fat girl Sam and gay guy Leo live together in platonic, co-dependent bliss. They have their routines, TV shows, and Chinese orders. "Team FatGay" against the world! But life is never that simple and Sam and Leo are still growing up. Their reality becomes strained the day Leo brings his "work wife" Chloe home to meet his "home wife." O'Donoghue moves about the stage like a nervous cat, sliding up and down the furniture, crossing and uncrossing her skinny legs. Almost combatant in her unsolicited praise for Leo and Sam, Chloe rubs Sam in all the wrong places, a fact that mystifies Chloe who proclaims that people like her! At one point, Chloe even feels that it's necessary to insist that Sam isn't fat, a sore point for Sam and for Gould who makes her feelings plain: "I'm fat. That's who I am."
The physical comedy is abundant and the high point of the performance. I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart begins and ends with some kind of dance. As a pre-amble to the performance proper, Leo and Sam perform a choreographed dance to the show's namesake "Tear You Apart" by She Wants Revenge. Halfway through the play, they reunite to perform a solid routine to Lady Gag's "Bad Romance." A bit on the nose, perhaps, but in these moments, Spiezio and Heleringer truly connect.
Spiezio and Heleringer settle into their characters after an awkward first scene. Gould's approximation of happy banter is strained. Her characters and her actors are at their authentic best when they yell and cry at each other, when they literally fucking tear each other apart. Heleringer's dynamism is a welcome contract to Spiezio's weary cynicism and dogged isolationism.
Set Designer Luciana Stecconi's set is a rather cutesy apartment, the heart of which is the couch from which Leo and Sam watch their beloved Grey's Anatomy. A great deal of attention went into the myriad of weird little touches, like fairy lights or a decapitated doll's head or a ball of caution tape, that make a set feel like a home.
The design team of Studio X collaborated to transform Studio Theatre's Stage 4 into something akin to a gay-man's wedding (which it is). A purple shimmer curtain disguises Leo and Sam's apartment and contributes to the party atmosphere. Sound DesignerJustin Schmitz incorporates "I Put A Spell On You" from Hocus Pocus and the theme song to Downton Abbey to hint at upcoming drama. Schmitz's soundtrack is an amalgam of nostalgia and party tracks perfectly suited to the ups and downs of I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart. Lighting Designer Andrew R. Cissna plays a series of projections that help to narrate the play and set a funky mood. Ivania Stack designed the costumes, a series of layered utilitarian basics which mark the passage of time.
I bet that Gould had a lot of fun writing and directing I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart. Her script is utterly relatable and highly adaptable, yet hardly predictable. And in this age of the 24-hour media frenzy, her references are remain fresh and relevant. All this boils down to a theater experience that is fun, if not exactly groundbreaking.
Fat girl Sam and gay guy Leo live together in platonic, co-dependent bliss. They have their routines, TV shows, and Chinese orders. "Team FatGay" against the world! But life is never that simple and Sam and Leo are still growing up. Their reality becomes strained the day Leo brings his "work wife" Chloe home to meet his "home wife." O'Donoghue moves about the stage like a nervous cat, sliding up and down the furniture, crossing and uncrossing her skinny legs. Almost combatant in her unsolicited praise for Leo and Sam, Chloe rubs Sam in all the wrong places, a fact that mystifies Chloe who proclaims that people like her! At one point, Chloe even feels that it's necessary to insist that Sam isn't fat, a sore point for Sam and for Gould who makes her feelings plain: "I'm fat. That's who I am."
The physical comedy is abundant and the high point of the performance. I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart begins and ends with some kind of dance. As a pre-amble to the performance proper, Leo and Sam perform a choreographed dance to the show's namesake "Tear You Apart" by She Wants Revenge. Halfway through the play, they reunite to perform a solid routine to Lady Gag's "Bad Romance." A bit on the nose, perhaps, but in these moments, Spiezio and Heleringer truly connect.
Spiezio and Heleringer settle into their characters after an awkward first scene. Gould's approximation of happy banter is strained. Her characters and her actors are at their authentic best when they yell and cry at each other, when they literally fucking tear each other apart. Heleringer's dynamism is a welcome contract to Spiezio's weary cynicism and dogged isolationism.
Set Designer Luciana Stecconi's set is a rather cutesy apartment, the heart of which is the couch from which Leo and Sam watch their beloved Grey's Anatomy. A great deal of attention went into the myriad of weird little touches, like fairy lights or a decapitated doll's head or a ball of caution tape, that make a set feel like a home.
The design team of Studio X collaborated to transform Studio Theatre's Stage 4 into something akin to a gay-man's wedding (which it is). A purple shimmer curtain disguises Leo and Sam's apartment and contributes to the party atmosphere. Sound DesignerJustin Schmitz incorporates "I Put A Spell On You" from Hocus Pocus and the theme song to Downton Abbey to hint at upcoming drama. Schmitz's soundtrack is an amalgam of nostalgia and party tracks perfectly suited to the ups and downs of I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart. Lighting Designer Andrew R. Cissna plays a series of projections that help to narrate the play and set a funky mood. Ivania Stack designed the costumes, a series of layered utilitarian basics which mark the passage of time.
I bet that Gould had a lot of fun writing and directing I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart. Her script is utterly relatable and highly adaptable, yet hardly predictable. And in this age of the 24-hour media frenzy, her references are remain fresh and relevant. All this boils down to a theater experience that is fun, if not exactly groundbreaking.
Review: ‘I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart’ at The Studio Theatre
by Jane Franklin
February 6, 2017
They are longtime friends who share an apartment, a hearty back-and-forth, and a splendid repartee of tease, criticism, support and jealousy, and multiple emotions that swirl as individuals marginalized, different, and not-accepted. Written and directed by Morgan Gould, I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart confronts issues of acceptance, character, relationship, and place. The story is realized by long time collaborators and actors Anna O’Donoghue (Chloe) and Tommy Heleringer (Leo) who are joined by Nicole Spiezio (Sam).
Sam is the roommate of Leo. Together they bond on identity outside-the-line; she is the fat girl that nobody wants to get to know; he, the excited gay guy. They comment on the latest trends of popular culture, squeezing the remote or each other, sharing a take-out meal of Chinese, solving world problems and getting crazy. They talk over the television in cluttered conversation as random as the items on the kitchen counter. This “TV watching phone checking pair” each have a good start on an adult life and a literary career, along with a frequently opening and closing refrigerator, Doritos to put out the heat, and a relationship with history.
At the start of the evening, you catch a glimpse out on the town, the well-appareled friends exhibiting stylish overdrive dressed to the nines or tens. Later, credit captions swirl overhead, or signal the progression of time as months pass and changes evolve. Leo introduces his friend from work, Chloe, and she sparks new complexities. Played with brash innocence by Anna O’Donoghue, Chloe is a girl who can’t sit still. Is Chloe smarter than she acts, kinder than she seems or just as she appears, pretty and slim, and one of those people easy to like?
The costumes by Designer Ivania Stack add structure to each scene, and make visual the changing season or the daily tasks of work or play. Scenes can be brief or evolve quickly sometimes trailing off in mid-sentence, or with a closing door. Leo wakes Sam up late at night with music way too loud. Possibly a cause for a huge argument, here it evolves into a fierce dance of lip-synching and sofa leaping with sound moves, pleasurable and comedic, performed with abandon.
Set Designer Luciana Stecconi begins with a curtain of purple tinsel, which pulls away to a realistic city-scape apartment well-appointed with a narrow sofa and a kitchen sink with running water. The set is filled with tiny details that amuse when the eye floats away from the dialogue. The moments left in black out are given a breath by Sound Designer Justin Schmitz, at one point adding music from Downton Abbey to heighten the drama of the preceding interchange. The creative team achieves in solidifying, a professional and polished staging.
Things never stay the same. As I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart reminds, the passage of time may not heal, but the widening circle of friendship can let others in and honesty to survive. Morgan Gould has written a play that captures central and poignant moments of experience.
Sam is the roommate of Leo. Together they bond on identity outside-the-line; she is the fat girl that nobody wants to get to know; he, the excited gay guy. They comment on the latest trends of popular culture, squeezing the remote or each other, sharing a take-out meal of Chinese, solving world problems and getting crazy. They talk over the television in cluttered conversation as random as the items on the kitchen counter. This “TV watching phone checking pair” each have a good start on an adult life and a literary career, along with a frequently opening and closing refrigerator, Doritos to put out the heat, and a relationship with history.
At the start of the evening, you catch a glimpse out on the town, the well-appareled friends exhibiting stylish overdrive dressed to the nines or tens. Later, credit captions swirl overhead, or signal the progression of time as months pass and changes evolve. Leo introduces his friend from work, Chloe, and she sparks new complexities. Played with brash innocence by Anna O’Donoghue, Chloe is a girl who can’t sit still. Is Chloe smarter than she acts, kinder than she seems or just as she appears, pretty and slim, and one of those people easy to like?
The costumes by Designer Ivania Stack add structure to each scene, and make visual the changing season or the daily tasks of work or play. Scenes can be brief or evolve quickly sometimes trailing off in mid-sentence, or with a closing door. Leo wakes Sam up late at night with music way too loud. Possibly a cause for a huge argument, here it evolves into a fierce dance of lip-synching and sofa leaping with sound moves, pleasurable and comedic, performed with abandon.
Set Designer Luciana Stecconi begins with a curtain of purple tinsel, which pulls away to a realistic city-scape apartment well-appointed with a narrow sofa and a kitchen sink with running water. The set is filled with tiny details that amuse when the eye floats away from the dialogue. The moments left in black out are given a breath by Sound Designer Justin Schmitz, at one point adding music from Downton Abbey to heighten the drama of the preceding interchange. The creative team achieves in solidifying, a professional and polished staging.
Things never stay the same. As I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart reminds, the passage of time may not heal, but the widening circle of friendship can let others in and honesty to survive. Morgan Gould has written a play that captures central and poignant moments of experience.
Studio Theatre’s New Comedy, I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart (review)
by Kelly McCorkendale
February 7, 2017
Like a fantasy disco, I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart opens all glitz and glamour. Yet, it isn’t as frivolous as it would want you to believe watching Sam (Nicole Spiezio) and Leo (Tommy Heleringer) strut the stage in outrageous gold and black attire fit for a burlesque-like-ball. Day-to-day life for Team Fat-Gay, as they like to call themselves, which includes loving diet coke, Top Chef, Lady Gaga, and each other, is really rather blah.Roommates Sam and Leo have known each other for 10+ years (since college) and finish each other’s sentences. They have a million inside jokes. And once choreographed “Bad Romance” (and the dance is actually quite good). Like a lot of best friends, they bring out joy in one another. And are a pure joy to watch, especially as they have a faux-orgasm over Loehmann’s latest or engage in a water fight.
Yet, something is amiss. Sam cleans Leo’s room, loans him money, creates a writing schedule to hold him accountable to his craft. Leo wants to be an individual, and an adult, something unlikely when Sam doesn’t allow him to test his own agency and responsibility. Sam isn’t particularly controlling, just afraid of who she is without the person she deems her better half. Afraid to the point that she treats him with kid gloves instead of honesty.
Enter Chloe (Anna O’Donaghue). Perky. Bohemian. Always bubbly (and a bit obnoxious). She is Leo’s “work wife” at his lame day job and the anti-Sam, who dresses mostly in black and wears sarcastic judgment like a Purple Heart. Chloe is thin and sweet and even funny, though Sam brushes her off with some serious side-eye.
That is, until Chloe becomes a real threat to Sam’s friendship with Leo. “You confuse disinterest for dislike,” Sam says in response to Chloe asking why she hates her.
Stylistically, Wanna is done like a movie, complete with opening credits and a curtain-call worthy of film. Some scenes are so short, they are the theatrical equivalent of a Polaroid or a music video montage depicting beautiful, brief moments between friends. It also has a killer soundtrack, one that’s all about pop culture. Madonna’s “Vogue,” The Cranberries’ “Linger,” and the themes from Sex and the City, Downton Abbey, Friends, and Golden Girls all drive not only those quick scenes (and quick scene changes), but also the whole pace of the show, which covers about 5 years from start to finish.
But what really drives it is the witty, funny dialogue delivered with ninja precision by its three actors, especially Spiezio and Heleringer who, as Sam and Leo, are like a classic comedy duo mixing it up at a college keger. And, when they drop their funny, the weight of the relationship and its flaws are splayed out perfectly.
Watching Sam handle the revelation that Leo is moving in with Chloe is like watching a car crash because of driver overcorrection, which seems about right for someone like Sam, who has carried the feeling of rejection—for being fat and, therefore, unwanted—for so long that she imposes her own self-hate onto others. Especially anyone not a “freak,” like petit, cheery, sweet Chloe, who is really just a person like all people trying to make the most of what she’s got. Except, Sam doesn’t realize she has so much more than just Leo, her clutch. Her friend in a freak-dom that doesn’t really exist, if it ever did.
Perhaps what is so good about this wonderful, laugh-out-loud, funny show is that it captures that one friendship/relationship everyone has had. That one that seems almost too good to be true. The one that defines you, just when you need defining, and helps guide you out of awkwardness. The one that, if you aren’t careful, will swallow you whole if you don’t let it go at the right time. And, it does it without being overly sentimental, or cheesy. It aims for a bittersweet spot and sticks the landing, thanks to a great script and direction—both done by Morgan Gould—and superb acting.
I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart is a comic jewel masking the bruised heart we all carry.
Yet, something is amiss. Sam cleans Leo’s room, loans him money, creates a writing schedule to hold him accountable to his craft. Leo wants to be an individual, and an adult, something unlikely when Sam doesn’t allow him to test his own agency and responsibility. Sam isn’t particularly controlling, just afraid of who she is without the person she deems her better half. Afraid to the point that she treats him with kid gloves instead of honesty.
Enter Chloe (Anna O’Donaghue). Perky. Bohemian. Always bubbly (and a bit obnoxious). She is Leo’s “work wife” at his lame day job and the anti-Sam, who dresses mostly in black and wears sarcastic judgment like a Purple Heart. Chloe is thin and sweet and even funny, though Sam brushes her off with some serious side-eye.
That is, until Chloe becomes a real threat to Sam’s friendship with Leo. “You confuse disinterest for dislike,” Sam says in response to Chloe asking why she hates her.
Stylistically, Wanna is done like a movie, complete with opening credits and a curtain-call worthy of film. Some scenes are so short, they are the theatrical equivalent of a Polaroid or a music video montage depicting beautiful, brief moments between friends. It also has a killer soundtrack, one that’s all about pop culture. Madonna’s “Vogue,” The Cranberries’ “Linger,” and the themes from Sex and the City, Downton Abbey, Friends, and Golden Girls all drive not only those quick scenes (and quick scene changes), but also the whole pace of the show, which covers about 5 years from start to finish.
But what really drives it is the witty, funny dialogue delivered with ninja precision by its three actors, especially Spiezio and Heleringer who, as Sam and Leo, are like a classic comedy duo mixing it up at a college keger. And, when they drop their funny, the weight of the relationship and its flaws are splayed out perfectly.
Watching Sam handle the revelation that Leo is moving in with Chloe is like watching a car crash because of driver overcorrection, which seems about right for someone like Sam, who has carried the feeling of rejection—for being fat and, therefore, unwanted—for so long that she imposes her own self-hate onto others. Especially anyone not a “freak,” like petit, cheery, sweet Chloe, who is really just a person like all people trying to make the most of what she’s got. Except, Sam doesn’t realize she has so much more than just Leo, her clutch. Her friend in a freak-dom that doesn’t really exist, if it ever did.
Perhaps what is so good about this wonderful, laugh-out-loud, funny show is that it captures that one friendship/relationship everyone has had. That one that seems almost too good to be true. The one that defines you, just when you need defining, and helps guide you out of awkwardness. The one that, if you aren’t careful, will swallow you whole if you don’t let it go at the right time. And, it does it without being overly sentimental, or cheesy. It aims for a bittersweet spot and sticks the landing, thanks to a great script and direction—both done by Morgan Gould—and superb acting.
I Wanna Fucking Tear You Apart is a comic jewel masking the bruised heart we all carry.
Review: 'The How and the Why' at Theater J
by Ravelle Brickman
February 21, 2017
The How and the Why – Sarah Treem’s celebrated play about science, feminism and generational rivalry – has just made its long-awaited DC debut at Theater J.
The two-handed play is billed as a “fitting follow-up” to Theater J’s recent production of Copenhagen, in which two real-life male scientists – Niels Bohr and Werner Heisenberg – conduct an imaginary debate about the morality of turning atomic fission into a bomb. In The How and the Why, we have two female scientists. On top, and lording it over her domain, is the powerful Zelda Kahn, played by Valerie Leonard, whose theory of evolutionary biology has become establishment doctrine.
On the bottom, and beseeching some kind of favor, is the upstart Rachel Hardman. Played by Katie deBuys with alternating waves of bravado and fear, she is a graduate student whose new theory – developed with her boyfriend – threatens to overthrow existing ideas. While the characters are fictional, the science is real. In fact, the new theory, which sounds naïve, is actually based on the work of a real scientist, Margie Profet, who in 1993 shocked the world with an idea that studies have since confirmed. The play begins when the two women meet in the professor’s office just a few days before a major international conference. Rachel wants to speak at the conference. Zelda at first refuses, then, improbably, offers the opportunity, provided that Rachel will deliver the talk alone. They argue, conducting a verbal duel that covers everything from the morality of ambition to the underpinnings of sexism. They also debate the importance of love and marriage versus career. There are also some not-so-subtle hints of an earlier relationship. Is this a May-December love affair gone sour? A bond between mentor and acolyte, broken by an overly competitive student? A generational divide that has somehow turned personal?? In fact, it’s none of the above.
Since the playwright is Sarah Treem—the highly-acclaimed TV writer whose hit shows include House of Cards, In Treatment and The Affair—the jousting is glib, full of laugh-aloud jokes.
These two ladies are very smart. And they are smartly directed by Shirley Serotsky, an award-winning pillar of the DC theatre community who understands how to work in depth.
In fact, Adam Immerwahr, Theater J’s new Artistic Director, chose the play, in part, because it was a perfect fit for Shirley. “Her interest in feminism and focus on illuminating subtext make her ideal for this play,” he says, adding that it was also a perfect fit for his first year at Theater J. Immerwahr, who came across the play when he was Associate Artistic Director at the McCarter Theatre in Princeton, NJ—where it had its world premiere in 2011—says he was captivated by it at the time, and knew that he wanted to produce it again. This production owes much of its strength to its two actors. Although the character of Zelda is more fully developed—she is, seemingly, the stronger of the two, and her part is meatier—the character of Rachel allows for a broader range.
Paige Hathaway’s set is ingenious. The backdrop – covered with photographs of the professor’s subjects and snatches of pre-feminist poetry – is juxtaposed against a façade of 19th century brick buildings, each with its own mullioned windows. A movable interior wall creates the illusion, on one side, of a cozy Harvard office, complete with window seat and books. Turned around, the other side becomes a student bar where the only food is stale popcorn. In addition to the popcorn – which triggers laughter even before the first taste – Kevin Laughon’s props include a bottle of lukewarm champagne served in a coffee mug and a water glass.
Danielle Preston’s costumes and accessories—especially the handbags that both tote around, provide instant clues to the women’s roles. The dominant and self-assured Zelda is clearly the Alpha Female, dressed impeccably in a designer jacket and loose but graceful trousers. Rachel, on the other hand, is the cocky post-grad outfitted in tights and layered top.
The contrasting worlds of professorial eminence and student decadence are clearly delineated by the lighting, designed by Martha Mountain, and sound, by Justin Schmitz.
That play, too, depicts a “how and a why,” though the question there is whether science and spirituality can coexist. Both plays deal with serious topics, and both are cleverly written, though contrived. Both deal with events that strain credibility. If The How and the Why occasionally feels like soap opera, at least it is soap opera laced with Pinteresque dialogue. Or it’s a Neil Simon comedy with zingers intact, but a big question mark behind the scenery.
The two-handed play is billed as a “fitting follow-up” to Theater J’s recent production of Copenhagen, in which two real-life male scientists – Niels Bohr and Werner Heisenberg – conduct an imaginary debate about the morality of turning atomic fission into a bomb. In The How and the Why, we have two female scientists. On top, and lording it over her domain, is the powerful Zelda Kahn, played by Valerie Leonard, whose theory of evolutionary biology has become establishment doctrine.
On the bottom, and beseeching some kind of favor, is the upstart Rachel Hardman. Played by Katie deBuys with alternating waves of bravado and fear, she is a graduate student whose new theory – developed with her boyfriend – threatens to overthrow existing ideas. While the characters are fictional, the science is real. In fact, the new theory, which sounds naïve, is actually based on the work of a real scientist, Margie Profet, who in 1993 shocked the world with an idea that studies have since confirmed. The play begins when the two women meet in the professor’s office just a few days before a major international conference. Rachel wants to speak at the conference. Zelda at first refuses, then, improbably, offers the opportunity, provided that Rachel will deliver the talk alone. They argue, conducting a verbal duel that covers everything from the morality of ambition to the underpinnings of sexism. They also debate the importance of love and marriage versus career. There are also some not-so-subtle hints of an earlier relationship. Is this a May-December love affair gone sour? A bond between mentor and acolyte, broken by an overly competitive student? A generational divide that has somehow turned personal?? In fact, it’s none of the above.
Since the playwright is Sarah Treem—the highly-acclaimed TV writer whose hit shows include House of Cards, In Treatment and The Affair—the jousting is glib, full of laugh-aloud jokes.
These two ladies are very smart. And they are smartly directed by Shirley Serotsky, an award-winning pillar of the DC theatre community who understands how to work in depth.
In fact, Adam Immerwahr, Theater J’s new Artistic Director, chose the play, in part, because it was a perfect fit for Shirley. “Her interest in feminism and focus on illuminating subtext make her ideal for this play,” he says, adding that it was also a perfect fit for his first year at Theater J. Immerwahr, who came across the play when he was Associate Artistic Director at the McCarter Theatre in Princeton, NJ—where it had its world premiere in 2011—says he was captivated by it at the time, and knew that he wanted to produce it again. This production owes much of its strength to its two actors. Although the character of Zelda is more fully developed—she is, seemingly, the stronger of the two, and her part is meatier—the character of Rachel allows for a broader range.
Paige Hathaway’s set is ingenious. The backdrop – covered with photographs of the professor’s subjects and snatches of pre-feminist poetry – is juxtaposed against a façade of 19th century brick buildings, each with its own mullioned windows. A movable interior wall creates the illusion, on one side, of a cozy Harvard office, complete with window seat and books. Turned around, the other side becomes a student bar where the only food is stale popcorn. In addition to the popcorn – which triggers laughter even before the first taste – Kevin Laughon’s props include a bottle of lukewarm champagne served in a coffee mug and a water glass.
Danielle Preston’s costumes and accessories—especially the handbags that both tote around, provide instant clues to the women’s roles. The dominant and self-assured Zelda is clearly the Alpha Female, dressed impeccably in a designer jacket and loose but graceful trousers. Rachel, on the other hand, is the cocky post-grad outfitted in tights and layered top.
The contrasting worlds of professorial eminence and student decadence are clearly delineated by the lighting, designed by Martha Mountain, and sound, by Justin Schmitz.
That play, too, depicts a “how and a why,” though the question there is whether science and spirituality can coexist. Both plays deal with serious topics, and both are cleverly written, though contrived. Both deal with events that strain credibility. If The How and the Why occasionally feels like soap opera, at least it is soap opera laced with Pinteresque dialogue. Or it’s a Neil Simon comedy with zingers intact, but a big question mark behind the scenery.
UNCSA students, faculty and alumni helped create children’s
storybook fantasy land on White House lawn
November 2016
This year, Halloween provided more than an opportunity to dress up for students at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts. It also provided a once-in-a-lifetime educational opportunity and experience.
UNCSA’s School of Design and Production (D&P) returned to the White House last month to help create a themed Halloween experience hosted by President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama. The annual party for children of military-affiliated families was held Halloween afternoon on the South Lawn of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. in Washington, D.C.
Fourteen students, a handful of faculty members, and about a half-dozen alumni volunteered to travel to Washington on Friday, Oct. 28, to help set up the event, which consisted of 13 vignettes created around the theme of children’s storybooks, with decorations, life-sized puppets, trampoline and aerial performers, and other entertainment. At the center of the path, the South Portico of the White House – where the President and First Lady greeted their guests and passed out treats – was decorated in an Alice in Wonderland theme. This year’s party was a return engagement for D&P, who helped stage the party last year with lighting and projection. “Our volunteer contribution was much greater this year,” said Dean Michael J. Kelley. “We developed the narrative concept from top to bottom, and we transformed the South Lawn of the White House into a literary fantasy land using scenery and props, lighting, costumes, wigs and makeup, and sound tracks. Just about all the disciplines taught in the School of Design and Production were involved.”
Kelley said the experience was great training for the students. “More and more, our graduates are finding meaningful and well-paid employment in themed entertainment venues and special events,” he said. “That’s why I say we are more than a theatre training school. We are preparing students for a wide variety of careers in the arts and entertainment industry.”
Kelley himself parlayed his D&P education into a fulfilling career in themed entertainment. A 1987 graduate in Scenic Design, he worked for 11 years with Walt Disney Imagineering -- the planning, creative development, research and creative design entity of the Walt Disney Company and its affiliates. His experience includes stage productions, film, and television. He is a two-time Emmy Award winner, earning one as an assistant art director for HBO’s “Deadwood” and another as a set decorator for Children’s Television Network’s “Sesame Street.”
“My education at the School of the Arts provided me with more than technical and design skills,” he said. “I developed a strong work ethic and learned how to work collaboratively to solve problems. The White House has provided that kind of learning experience for our students.”
Kim Ross, a 2011 graduate of D&P’s Stage Properties program, was project manager for UNCSA’s part of the White House Halloween. She said the school had artistic contribution on almost every production element.
Since earning her degree, Ross has worked as a freelance prop fabricator on Broadway shows including Something Rotten and Big Fish. As a freelance scenic artist with TAIT Towers, she contributed to Cirque du Soleil’s “Toruk: The First Flight,” rock and roll productions like the Rolling Stones ’14 on Fire’ tour, and theatrical entertainment pieces such as Frozen at Disneyland’s California Adventures. She was introduced to event production by a fellow alumna, and has developed a portfolio that includes media conglomerate Viacom and fashion icons Marc Jacobs, Coach, and Givenchy.
Ross said the logistics of planning and designing in Winston-Salem and then transporting the elements to Washington was an incredible educational opportunity for the students. “Working off-site has its own issues. You can’t just run back to the shop if you forget something,” Ross said. “Working an event is very different from working in a theatre, where you have a confined and determined space."
“The impact from this experience is immeasurable, and all of our lives have been changed because of it. It was an absolute honor and privilege to have worked on this with students, faculty, and my fellow alumni,” she said.
In addition to the South Portico vignette, other stations along the path included Mother Goose with Baa Baa Black Sheep, Little Miss Muffet, Old King Cole and live music by Fiddlers Three, a folk string trio; Hans Christian Andersen with Frost Giant puppets, Snow Queen and Snow Princess characters, King Neptune levitation and a family of soap bubble performers; Peter Pan, with Peter, Wendy, Pirates, Lost Boys, Hook and Tinkerbell characters performing on a trampoline; Toby Tyler with tightwire and other circus performers, an aerial carousel and music by the Marine Band Brass Ensemble; and the Wizard of Oz with Glinda encased in a bubble and kettle corn as treats. The opportunity to work with the Hans Christian Andersen vignette gave UNCSA student volunteers hands-on training and experience with large puppets. “This is another skill they can take with them into their professional careers,” Kelley said.
Design and Production faculty members who volunteered for the project include: Howard Jones, director of Scenic Art and the Scene PaintingProgram, who designed the scenic elements; Norman Coates, director of the Lighting Program, who designed special lighting for the portico vignette; Jason Romney of the Sound Design Department, who developed the vignettes' sound tracks; Jamie Call Blankinship, director of the Stage Management Program, who worked on UNCSA scheduling and logistics for the event; and Associate Dean Bland Wade and Kris Julio of the Stage Properties Department, who were part of the creative team.
In addition to Ross, several other alumni helped create elements for the event. They include: B.F.A. scene painting alumna Jessica Holcombe; and M.F.A. graduates in sound Patrick Calhoun, Jon Fredette, Justin Schmitz and Jason Waggoner.
UNCSA’s School of Design and Production (D&P) returned to the White House last month to help create a themed Halloween experience hosted by President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama. The annual party for children of military-affiliated families was held Halloween afternoon on the South Lawn of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. in Washington, D.C.
Fourteen students, a handful of faculty members, and about a half-dozen alumni volunteered to travel to Washington on Friday, Oct. 28, to help set up the event, which consisted of 13 vignettes created around the theme of children’s storybooks, with decorations, life-sized puppets, trampoline and aerial performers, and other entertainment. At the center of the path, the South Portico of the White House – where the President and First Lady greeted their guests and passed out treats – was decorated in an Alice in Wonderland theme. This year’s party was a return engagement for D&P, who helped stage the party last year with lighting and projection. “Our volunteer contribution was much greater this year,” said Dean Michael J. Kelley. “We developed the narrative concept from top to bottom, and we transformed the South Lawn of the White House into a literary fantasy land using scenery and props, lighting, costumes, wigs and makeup, and sound tracks. Just about all the disciplines taught in the School of Design and Production were involved.”
Kelley said the experience was great training for the students. “More and more, our graduates are finding meaningful and well-paid employment in themed entertainment venues and special events,” he said. “That’s why I say we are more than a theatre training school. We are preparing students for a wide variety of careers in the arts and entertainment industry.”
Kelley himself parlayed his D&P education into a fulfilling career in themed entertainment. A 1987 graduate in Scenic Design, he worked for 11 years with Walt Disney Imagineering -- the planning, creative development, research and creative design entity of the Walt Disney Company and its affiliates. His experience includes stage productions, film, and television. He is a two-time Emmy Award winner, earning one as an assistant art director for HBO’s “Deadwood” and another as a set decorator for Children’s Television Network’s “Sesame Street.”
“My education at the School of the Arts provided me with more than technical and design skills,” he said. “I developed a strong work ethic and learned how to work collaboratively to solve problems. The White House has provided that kind of learning experience for our students.”
Kim Ross, a 2011 graduate of D&P’s Stage Properties program, was project manager for UNCSA’s part of the White House Halloween. She said the school had artistic contribution on almost every production element.
Since earning her degree, Ross has worked as a freelance prop fabricator on Broadway shows including Something Rotten and Big Fish. As a freelance scenic artist with TAIT Towers, she contributed to Cirque du Soleil’s “Toruk: The First Flight,” rock and roll productions like the Rolling Stones ’14 on Fire’ tour, and theatrical entertainment pieces such as Frozen at Disneyland’s California Adventures. She was introduced to event production by a fellow alumna, and has developed a portfolio that includes media conglomerate Viacom and fashion icons Marc Jacobs, Coach, and Givenchy.
Ross said the logistics of planning and designing in Winston-Salem and then transporting the elements to Washington was an incredible educational opportunity for the students. “Working off-site has its own issues. You can’t just run back to the shop if you forget something,” Ross said. “Working an event is very different from working in a theatre, where you have a confined and determined space."
“The impact from this experience is immeasurable, and all of our lives have been changed because of it. It was an absolute honor and privilege to have worked on this with students, faculty, and my fellow alumni,” she said.
In addition to the South Portico vignette, other stations along the path included Mother Goose with Baa Baa Black Sheep, Little Miss Muffet, Old King Cole and live music by Fiddlers Three, a folk string trio; Hans Christian Andersen with Frost Giant puppets, Snow Queen and Snow Princess characters, King Neptune levitation and a family of soap bubble performers; Peter Pan, with Peter, Wendy, Pirates, Lost Boys, Hook and Tinkerbell characters performing on a trampoline; Toby Tyler with tightwire and other circus performers, an aerial carousel and music by the Marine Band Brass Ensemble; and the Wizard of Oz with Glinda encased in a bubble and kettle corn as treats. The opportunity to work with the Hans Christian Andersen vignette gave UNCSA student volunteers hands-on training and experience with large puppets. “This is another skill they can take with them into their professional careers,” Kelley said.
Design and Production faculty members who volunteered for the project include: Howard Jones, director of Scenic Art and the Scene PaintingProgram, who designed the scenic elements; Norman Coates, director of the Lighting Program, who designed special lighting for the portico vignette; Jason Romney of the Sound Design Department, who developed the vignettes' sound tracks; Jamie Call Blankinship, director of the Stage Management Program, who worked on UNCSA scheduling and logistics for the event; and Associate Dean Bland Wade and Kris Julio of the Stage Properties Department, who were part of the creative team.
In addition to Ross, several other alumni helped create elements for the event. They include: B.F.A. scene painting alumna Jessica Holcombe; and M.F.A. graduates in sound Patrick Calhoun, Jon Fredette, Justin Schmitz and Jason Waggoner.
Review: ‘Bloody Poetry’ at The Catholic University of America
by John Stoltenberg
October 17, 2016
Bloody Poetry kicked off the school’s 2016-2017 season, which aims, an online note says, to “examine what dreams and nightmares motivate people to seek a better future.” The 1984 play by Howard Brenton is about English lit notables Percy Bysshe Shelly and Lord George Gordon Byron and their circle of mistresses, hangers-on, and wives.
Though hoity-toity literary in its language, Bloody Poetry depicts its protagonists’ loves and lusts with the lurid candor of the National Enquirer and Real World. If you were looking for a play to catch the attention of an academic crowd who wouldn’t be caught dead in a dead poets society, Bloody Poetry would be a relatable pick. Given all the play’s historically accurate sexual goings-on, the Romantic Age might well be called the Randy Age. The text is also very frank about the era’s rampant STDs, so there’s a subtle safer sex message as well.
The school’s resources were well deployed. Costume Designer Julie Cray-Leong provided beautifully lacy gowns for the ladies and handsome vests and great coats for the gents. Scenic Designer Jonathan Dahm Robertson’s evocative painted backdrop could seem both land and sea. Lighting Designer Dr. Tom Donahue’s plot worked well (though a quite a few cues seemed too abrupt). Director Gregg Henry created some powerful stage pictures and tell-tale tableau and made wonderful use of the wide wine-red curtain, which at one point was hoist by Bysshe like a sail and at another became the water in which his abandoned wife Harriet Westbrook drowned herself. And Sound Designer Justin Schmitz offered a simply stunning soundscape—one of the finest I can recall hearing in live theater. It ranged from lovely interludes of classical music to a undertones of undulating sea and seemed the compelling emotional underscore of the entire production.
Six student actors played the history-based roles: Dylan Fleming (a horndog Lord Byron), Desiree Chappelle (Claire Clairemont, Byron’s bodacious mistress), Danielle Scott (a timid Mary Shelly, who will become the second Mrs. Bysshe—and during the play gets her idea to write Frankenstein), Noah Beye (a leading-man-looks Bysshe and Byron’s peer in philandery), Morgan Wilder (Bysshe’s betrayed first wife Harriet Westbrook, whose suicidal monolog starts Act Two), and Kevin S. Boudreau (a prudish Dr. William Polidori, who entertains the audience with regular reports on all the scandals like a priggy TMZ).
The challenge of Brenton’s script for actors is that because it is so literary, so high-flown poetic (really, it invites later reading it’s so lush), it presents a temptation to declaim and proclaim at the expense of finding and feeling the characters’ inner emotional lives. And the cast, while uniformly appealing and earnest, rarely avoided that textual trap. To paraphase Robert Browning (and perhaps discern CUA’s intent in selecting this challenging play), student actors’ reach should exceed their grasp. Because that’s how they’ll get better.
Though hoity-toity literary in its language, Bloody Poetry depicts its protagonists’ loves and lusts with the lurid candor of the National Enquirer and Real World. If you were looking for a play to catch the attention of an academic crowd who wouldn’t be caught dead in a dead poets society, Bloody Poetry would be a relatable pick. Given all the play’s historically accurate sexual goings-on, the Romantic Age might well be called the Randy Age. The text is also very frank about the era’s rampant STDs, so there’s a subtle safer sex message as well.
The school’s resources were well deployed. Costume Designer Julie Cray-Leong provided beautifully lacy gowns for the ladies and handsome vests and great coats for the gents. Scenic Designer Jonathan Dahm Robertson’s evocative painted backdrop could seem both land and sea. Lighting Designer Dr. Tom Donahue’s plot worked well (though a quite a few cues seemed too abrupt). Director Gregg Henry created some powerful stage pictures and tell-tale tableau and made wonderful use of the wide wine-red curtain, which at one point was hoist by Bysshe like a sail and at another became the water in which his abandoned wife Harriet Westbrook drowned herself. And Sound Designer Justin Schmitz offered a simply stunning soundscape—one of the finest I can recall hearing in live theater. It ranged from lovely interludes of classical music to a undertones of undulating sea and seemed the compelling emotional underscore of the entire production.
Six student actors played the history-based roles: Dylan Fleming (a horndog Lord Byron), Desiree Chappelle (Claire Clairemont, Byron’s bodacious mistress), Danielle Scott (a timid Mary Shelly, who will become the second Mrs. Bysshe—and during the play gets her idea to write Frankenstein), Noah Beye (a leading-man-looks Bysshe and Byron’s peer in philandery), Morgan Wilder (Bysshe’s betrayed first wife Harriet Westbrook, whose suicidal monolog starts Act Two), and Kevin S. Boudreau (a prudish Dr. William Polidori, who entertains the audience with regular reports on all the scandals like a priggy TMZ).
The challenge of Brenton’s script for actors is that because it is so literary, so high-flown poetic (really, it invites later reading it’s so lush), it presents a temptation to declaim and proclaim at the expense of finding and feeling the characters’ inner emotional lives. And the cast, while uniformly appealing and earnest, rarely avoided that textual trap. To paraphase Robert Browning (and perhaps discern CUA’s intent in selecting this challenging play), student actors’ reach should exceed their grasp. Because that’s how they’ll get better.
DC Metro Theater Arts: Review: 'The Call' at University of Maryland's School of Theatre, Dance, and Performance Studies at The Clarice.
by Ramona Harper
10-2-16
Annie and Peter, a white married couple, haven’t been able to conceive a child of their own so they decide to adopt a child from Africa. Rebecca and Drea, a newly married African American lesbian couple are Annie and Peter’s close but “only black friends” who enlighten the couple with straight talk about the challenges of being white parents to a black child.
Tanya Barfield’s The Call, performed by the University of Maryland’s School of Theatre, Dance, and Performance Studies, and directed by Eleanor Holdridge, is a contemporary conversation about some of the most taboo but right-on-time topics in American society today. Race and cultural stereotypes, international adoption and cross-cultural parenting, The Call confronts some of our deepest and sometimes darkest attitudes about family and friendship as it courageously shines a bright spotlight on the universal need for love.
The beautifully appointed, urban chic living room of Annie and Peter is the West Elm, high-end setting for a series of heated after-dinner talks as Rebecca and Drea force Annie and Peter to consider some of the potential problems of parenting a child from Africa. In sometimes wickedly funny banter, the couples deal with everything from how Annie is going to deal with black hair to giving the child a culturally correct name. That doesn’t mean Annie’s waspy Anglo choice, “Emma Elizabeth” either, if it’s a girl; and Annie confidently retorts that there are YouTube videos to help her deal with the black hair problem.
The Call digs into psychic motivations, subliminal reservations, and the aspirational limitations that complicate the desire to make a difference by helping those less fortunate. It reveals attitudes of blind sighted cultural superiority but the story line ultimately sees the light through the power of an old African folk tale. Jamaal Amir McCray gives a dramatically spirited portrayal as Alemu, Annie and Peter’s new African next door neighbor, who delivers that wisdom straight from The Motherland. Alemu becomes a central character when Annie gets “the call” from the adoption agency and she decides not to accept a child who is much older than the infant they had hoped for. Jacqui Joke Hammond, vocal coach, might need to work with Jamaal a bit more, however, on his African accent that was totally charming but sounded more Eastern European than Sub Saharan.
The vulnerability that comes with the possibility of not being accepted as birthmother; the lack of courage to pursue the primal desire to parent; and the disappointments and mixed emotions that come with friendship are universal themes that create palpable dramatic conflict. However, the playwright doesn’t completely resolve them. The play feels brief to adequately develop the heavy themes in The Call and it seemed as if more time was needed to explore them. But perhaps this is the hidden strength of The Call – it’s not over when it’s over. It leaves you with unanswered questions that you still need to mull over, encouraging lingering conversations well after one leaves the theater.
The actors in this ensemble work very well together and give first-rate performances delivering Tanya Barfield’s contemporary dialogue with balanced energy and exceptionally fine acting.
Rachel Grandizio played Annie with likable neurotic anxiety and Theo Couloumbis as Peter is a natural actor who sensitively approached an intense climax scene with Annie without taking himself too seriously. Summer Brown as Rebecca gave a standout performance as Annie’s best friend and she strengthened the bonds of friendship between all of the characters.
Sound Designer Justin Schmitz piped wonderful strains of modern African music in the background as Dylan Uremovich’s dimmed lights shifted scenes with well-placed brownouts. Set Designer Tyler Herald’s visually appealing moving sets helped to create a fashionably contemporary mood. The set was outstanding and equaled anything I have seen in professional venues.
The Call is an excellent production that delivers an important message worth hearing: the courage to love has no cultural bounds.
Tanya Barfield’s The Call, performed by the University of Maryland’s School of Theatre, Dance, and Performance Studies, and directed by Eleanor Holdridge, is a contemporary conversation about some of the most taboo but right-on-time topics in American society today. Race and cultural stereotypes, international adoption and cross-cultural parenting, The Call confronts some of our deepest and sometimes darkest attitudes about family and friendship as it courageously shines a bright spotlight on the universal need for love.
The beautifully appointed, urban chic living room of Annie and Peter is the West Elm, high-end setting for a series of heated after-dinner talks as Rebecca and Drea force Annie and Peter to consider some of the potential problems of parenting a child from Africa. In sometimes wickedly funny banter, the couples deal with everything from how Annie is going to deal with black hair to giving the child a culturally correct name. That doesn’t mean Annie’s waspy Anglo choice, “Emma Elizabeth” either, if it’s a girl; and Annie confidently retorts that there are YouTube videos to help her deal with the black hair problem.
The Call digs into psychic motivations, subliminal reservations, and the aspirational limitations that complicate the desire to make a difference by helping those less fortunate. It reveals attitudes of blind sighted cultural superiority but the story line ultimately sees the light through the power of an old African folk tale. Jamaal Amir McCray gives a dramatically spirited portrayal as Alemu, Annie and Peter’s new African next door neighbor, who delivers that wisdom straight from The Motherland. Alemu becomes a central character when Annie gets “the call” from the adoption agency and she decides not to accept a child who is much older than the infant they had hoped for. Jacqui Joke Hammond, vocal coach, might need to work with Jamaal a bit more, however, on his African accent that was totally charming but sounded more Eastern European than Sub Saharan.
The vulnerability that comes with the possibility of not being accepted as birthmother; the lack of courage to pursue the primal desire to parent; and the disappointments and mixed emotions that come with friendship are universal themes that create palpable dramatic conflict. However, the playwright doesn’t completely resolve them. The play feels brief to adequately develop the heavy themes in The Call and it seemed as if more time was needed to explore them. But perhaps this is the hidden strength of The Call – it’s not over when it’s over. It leaves you with unanswered questions that you still need to mull over, encouraging lingering conversations well after one leaves the theater.
The actors in this ensemble work very well together and give first-rate performances delivering Tanya Barfield’s contemporary dialogue with balanced energy and exceptionally fine acting.
Rachel Grandizio played Annie with likable neurotic anxiety and Theo Couloumbis as Peter is a natural actor who sensitively approached an intense climax scene with Annie without taking himself too seriously. Summer Brown as Rebecca gave a standout performance as Annie’s best friend and she strengthened the bonds of friendship between all of the characters.
Sound Designer Justin Schmitz piped wonderful strains of modern African music in the background as Dylan Uremovich’s dimmed lights shifted scenes with well-placed brownouts. Set Designer Tyler Herald’s visually appealing moving sets helped to create a fashionably contemporary mood. The set was outstanding and equaled anything I have seen in professional venues.
The Call is an excellent production that delivers an important message worth hearing: the courage to love has no cultural bounds.
The Washington Post: Feeling guilty when the bomb goes off in ‘I Call My Brothers’
By: Nelson Pressley
Sept 12th, 2016
In its subconscious wisdom, Washington theater has kicked forth at least two 9/11 shows so far this month: the feel-good musical “Come From Away” at Ford’s Theatre and now the harrowing drama “I Call My Brothers” at Forum Theatre. In Forum’s grim, intense staging at Silver Spring’s Black Box Theatre, that city is supposedly Washington, and scheduling the show’s official opening Sunday only intensified the connection. Already staged in Europe and Manhattan, the play is written with enough ambiguity to apply to any number of settings during the past 15 years.
The script is almost too ambiguous for its own good, though. Khemiri structures the drama as a series of phone conversations between a man named Amor and his friends and relatives, and the context is the urgency of the bombing. Details are vague, and sentences frequently trail off before subjects can be locked down. The idea is to ratchet up suspense but also to leave copious room for doubt and questioning. Exactly what is going on?
Amor turns out to be rather unreliable, as we see in a scene involving a girlfriend he may have stalked and in an encounter with a hardware salesman he awkwardly tries to bond with as “one of us.” Characters frequently say the equivalent of “It didn’t happen that way” before the record gets revised. The play can be low-key, conversational, even funny as Amor jokes around with a pal. But mostly the story is told with a heavy case of the jitters. To a degree, that suits Khemiri’s aim of exploring Amor’s shattered sense of self as a Muslim in a Western city during a moment of terrorist violence — a first-rate subject for a play. Yet Amor and his plight stay at arm’s length in this highly styled production that amps anxiety to maximum levels.
Director Michael Dove leaves the stage bare and black, piercing the darkness with harsh white light that often comes from the sides or from vertical fluorescent tubes around the stage. The show has the look and feel of an emergency, with explosions sometimes booming through the sound system and with dim black-and-white video portraits of the four actors appearing on large screens as the audience gathers. A lot of the dialogue is spoken into microphones. It’s a profoundly mechanized performance.
The script is almost too ambiguous for its own good, though. Khemiri structures the drama as a series of phone conversations between a man named Amor and his friends and relatives, and the context is the urgency of the bombing. Details are vague, and sentences frequently trail off before subjects can be locked down. The idea is to ratchet up suspense but also to leave copious room for doubt and questioning. Exactly what is going on?
Amor turns out to be rather unreliable, as we see in a scene involving a girlfriend he may have stalked and in an encounter with a hardware salesman he awkwardly tries to bond with as “one of us.” Characters frequently say the equivalent of “It didn’t happen that way” before the record gets revised. The play can be low-key, conversational, even funny as Amor jokes around with a pal. But mostly the story is told with a heavy case of the jitters. To a degree, that suits Khemiri’s aim of exploring Amor’s shattered sense of self as a Muslim in a Western city during a moment of terrorist violence — a first-rate subject for a play. Yet Amor and his plight stay at arm’s length in this highly styled production that amps anxiety to maximum levels.
Director Michael Dove leaves the stage bare and black, piercing the darkness with harsh white light that often comes from the sides or from vertical fluorescent tubes around the stage. The show has the look and feel of an emergency, with explosions sometimes booming through the sound system and with dim black-and-white video portraits of the four actors appearing on large screens as the audience gathers. A lot of the dialogue is spoken into microphones. It’s a profoundly mechanized performance.
BWW Review: Artistry and Acting are Reasons Enough to See I CALL MY BROTHERS at Forum Theatre
by Jennifer Perry
Sep. 13, 2016
I can nearly always count on the small, but mighty Forum Theatre to conjure up selections each season that are a little out-of-the-box, and present them with an abundance of creativity. Season 13 is no exception, and it starts off with the area premiere of Jonas Hassen Khemiri's I CALL MY BROTHERS (translated from Swedish by Rachel Willson-Broyles). In the intimate Silver Spring Black Box Theatre, Director Michael Dove and his strong cast of four deal well with the challenges and potential inherent in Khemiri's script, and give the audience a relevant night of theatre that ends - appropriately - with more questions than answers.
Based on an article written in response to the bombing in Stockholm in 2010, the play explores the plight of a Middle Eastern man named Amor (Ahmad Kamal) following a car bombing in his unnamed city. The question is not so much whathappened, but rather how Amor internalizes the event as a man who others might regard as suspicious by virtue of his race and religion. As Amor comes to terms with the event and goes about his daily life, he is filled with fear although he tries to blend in the best he can. As he goes on with life, he converses with others in his past and present via telephone. The telephone conversations he has are a blend of fantasy with reality, but give us some insight as to who Amor is, and the types of experiences he has had in his life. The ways that Amor and his friends/relatives remember these conversations is quite often different. There are no facts. Every piece of information, or response to an action, is filtered through an individualized processor.
While Khemiri explores macro issues of race, and especially the role it plays in the human/social response to terrorism in a unique way (i.e. focusing on one individual) a strong and surprisingly comedic start is followed by a messy and repetitive middle, and then a strong ending. With some tightening of the conversations Amor has, it's possible I would have left with less of a feeling of being hit over the head with an array of existing - and at times simplistic - ideas about human behavior, albeit in an artistic way. If Khemiri would have trusted all of his material more, I may have felt differently.
Still, Dove and his cast do everything they can to bring out the best in Khemiri's script. Mr. Kamal, in particular, does an incredible job at displaying Amor's unease in the aftermath of unspeakable tragedy. If it had not been made known that he only stepped into the role recently (replacing Maboud Ebrahimzadeh who was cast in a touring production of DISGRACED), I would probably have never known. Script issues aside, Kamal made me care about Amor's plight. Saleh Karaman, Nora Achrati, and Sarah Corey also contribute greatly to the production's success thanks to their versatility, and willingness to embody any given character that comes into contact with Amor - whether in real life or in his mind - within a second or two. The ensemble acting in this production is simply stellar, and is reason enough to go see the show.
Speaking of stellar, so too are the artistic elements which enhance the urgency and grimness of Khemiri's play. Whether it is Max Doolittle's harsh, fluorescent lighting or Justin Schmitz's loud and intense sound design, we are immediately transported into the unsettled chaos that is Amor's mind. A decision to have the actors use corded mics to execute telephone conversations also has artistic merit given the ideas on human behavior and interaction that Khemiri presents for our consideration. Even as the muddled middle unfolded, I remained interested in what Khemiri had to say thanks to the acting and the design.
Based on an article written in response to the bombing in Stockholm in 2010, the play explores the plight of a Middle Eastern man named Amor (Ahmad Kamal) following a car bombing in his unnamed city. The question is not so much whathappened, but rather how Amor internalizes the event as a man who others might regard as suspicious by virtue of his race and religion. As Amor comes to terms with the event and goes about his daily life, he is filled with fear although he tries to blend in the best he can. As he goes on with life, he converses with others in his past and present via telephone. The telephone conversations he has are a blend of fantasy with reality, but give us some insight as to who Amor is, and the types of experiences he has had in his life. The ways that Amor and his friends/relatives remember these conversations is quite often different. There are no facts. Every piece of information, or response to an action, is filtered through an individualized processor.
While Khemiri explores macro issues of race, and especially the role it plays in the human/social response to terrorism in a unique way (i.e. focusing on one individual) a strong and surprisingly comedic start is followed by a messy and repetitive middle, and then a strong ending. With some tightening of the conversations Amor has, it's possible I would have left with less of a feeling of being hit over the head with an array of existing - and at times simplistic - ideas about human behavior, albeit in an artistic way. If Khemiri would have trusted all of his material more, I may have felt differently.
Still, Dove and his cast do everything they can to bring out the best in Khemiri's script. Mr. Kamal, in particular, does an incredible job at displaying Amor's unease in the aftermath of unspeakable tragedy. If it had not been made known that he only stepped into the role recently (replacing Maboud Ebrahimzadeh who was cast in a touring production of DISGRACED), I would probably have never known. Script issues aside, Kamal made me care about Amor's plight. Saleh Karaman, Nora Achrati, and Sarah Corey also contribute greatly to the production's success thanks to their versatility, and willingness to embody any given character that comes into contact with Amor - whether in real life or in his mind - within a second or two. The ensemble acting in this production is simply stellar, and is reason enough to go see the show.
Speaking of stellar, so too are the artistic elements which enhance the urgency and grimness of Khemiri's play. Whether it is Max Doolittle's harsh, fluorescent lighting or Justin Schmitz's loud and intense sound design, we are immediately transported into the unsettled chaos that is Amor's mind. A decision to have the actors use corded mics to execute telephone conversations also has artistic merit given the ideas on human behavior and interaction that Khemiri presents for our consideration. Even as the muddled middle unfolded, I remained interested in what Khemiri had to say thanks to the acting and the design.
Theatre Bloom: Review: I Call My Brothers at Forum Theatre
By: Amanda N. Gunther
Sept 13, 2016
When the wind howls do you answer it by building a shelter or by building a kite? Forum Theatre answers by not only building a kite but flying it through an emotionally turbulent storm with their 13th season opener, with the DC-area debut of I Call My Brothers, ... this gripping and visceral tale explores the narrative experience of Amor, an average individual in an average American city, doing his best to blend in, be invisible, and not raise suspicion simply by existing. Strikingly suited for the current political climate, this 90-minute high-octane emotional surge sizzles with hot-button topics like racial stereotyping and profiling and destabilizes the audiences’ preconceived notion of what exactly it is they are seeing and hearing.
Jarring and startling are the words that best describe the combined approach of Lighting Designer Max Doolittle and Sound Designer Justin Schmitz when it comes to the beat structure of Khemiri’s play. Visually disarming and aurally alarming, Doolittle and Schmitz work together to paint the audience with a sense of discomfort, a sense of disquiet. This primes theatergoers for the highly exposed nature of the story that’s about to unfold: a car has exploded; the city is crippled with fear. In addition to these unsettling moments of audio-visual sensationalism, Doolittle is responsible for the cleverly crafted spotlight circles that focuses the performers into tight moments of isolation. The illuminating elements of the show become a masterful character of sorts, filling in the gaps in the skeletal framework of Director Michael Dove’s minimalist set design. Projections Designer Hannah Marsh infuses an imitation of live-feed grayscale imagery, which features all four performers, as if they are the eyes forever watching. This replicates the symbolic paranoia that Amor feels throughout the performance and is a strong visual image to pair with the concept. As mentioned, Schmitz assists both Doolittle and Marsh with their craft by spinning a unique sound plot, articulated to enhance certain moments of emotional overflow with exacting care.
Playwright Jonas Hassen Khemiri has penned a profound piece of theatre, almost poetic in its descriptive nature with vivid language that ensnares the attention early on. In the hands of leading player Ahmad Kamal, who takes on the main role of Amor, this intentionally deliberate phrasing and use of descriptive imagery exposes emotional depth in the text as well as paints a disturbing experience for all to see. Continually blindsiding the audience with the upheaval of circumstances, every time the play gets its footing or the audience gets a clear notion of what exactly they’re witnessing. Is this a story about a terrorist? Is this a story about a terrorizing experience? Is this a story about injustice and racial profiling? Is this a story about struggle? Or perhaps it is all of the above? Khemiri loads a theatrical powder keg with his script; Michael Dove and the four-person cast ignite it into a theatrical explosion of unapologetic cathartic experiences and narratives that seize the audience and throw them headlong into a chasm of chaos.
A true bang, I Call My Brothers will spark conversation beyond the shadow of a doubt, making it the perfect way to start Forum Theatre’s 13th season.
Jarring and startling are the words that best describe the combined approach of Lighting Designer Max Doolittle and Sound Designer Justin Schmitz when it comes to the beat structure of Khemiri’s play. Visually disarming and aurally alarming, Doolittle and Schmitz work together to paint the audience with a sense of discomfort, a sense of disquiet. This primes theatergoers for the highly exposed nature of the story that’s about to unfold: a car has exploded; the city is crippled with fear. In addition to these unsettling moments of audio-visual sensationalism, Doolittle is responsible for the cleverly crafted spotlight circles that focuses the performers into tight moments of isolation. The illuminating elements of the show become a masterful character of sorts, filling in the gaps in the skeletal framework of Director Michael Dove’s minimalist set design. Projections Designer Hannah Marsh infuses an imitation of live-feed grayscale imagery, which features all four performers, as if they are the eyes forever watching. This replicates the symbolic paranoia that Amor feels throughout the performance and is a strong visual image to pair with the concept. As mentioned, Schmitz assists both Doolittle and Marsh with their craft by spinning a unique sound plot, articulated to enhance certain moments of emotional overflow with exacting care.
Playwright Jonas Hassen Khemiri has penned a profound piece of theatre, almost poetic in its descriptive nature with vivid language that ensnares the attention early on. In the hands of leading player Ahmad Kamal, who takes on the main role of Amor, this intentionally deliberate phrasing and use of descriptive imagery exposes emotional depth in the text as well as paints a disturbing experience for all to see. Continually blindsiding the audience with the upheaval of circumstances, every time the play gets its footing or the audience gets a clear notion of what exactly they’re witnessing. Is this a story about a terrorist? Is this a story about a terrorizing experience? Is this a story about injustice and racial profiling? Is this a story about struggle? Or perhaps it is all of the above? Khemiri loads a theatrical powder keg with his script; Michael Dove and the four-person cast ignite it into a theatrical explosion of unapologetic cathartic experiences and narratives that seize the audience and throw them headlong into a chasm of chaos.
A true bang, I Call My Brothers will spark conversation beyond the shadow of a doubt, making it the perfect way to start Forum Theatre’s 13th season.
DC Metro Theater Arts: Review: 'I Call My Brothers' at Forum Theatre
By: John Stoltenberg
Sept 13, 2016
Forum Theatre has a knack for picking trenchant works of theater that buzz with relevance to hot-button topics. Its current offering is a perfect case in point. Given this nation’s rising tide of Islamophobia in the turbulent wake of 9/11, Forum Theatre’s bold season opener, I Call My Brothers, could not be more timely or more urgent to be reckoned with.
The script is both expressionist fable and memory play. It takes us into the life and psyche of an Arab man named Amor in the aftermath of a suicide car bombing. Amor had nothing to do with the crime; he’s completely innocent. A lone radical did it, someone who wore a keffiyeh. Yet because Amor fits the terrorist’s ethnic profile, he is instantly under citywide suspicion and at constant risk of racist reprisal. At one point Amor’s friends spell out for him the desolating implications. The goal is to blend in. The goal is to become invisible. Leave your keffiyeh at home. Do not carry a suspicious bag…. Smile at everyone and everything… Apologize for existing… You are not safe anywhere…. Don’t attract anyone’s attention…
Time in the play is fractured. Scenes jump-cut. A structured tension in the text keeps every moment on edge. In contrast to the crisis that has defined Amor’s world since the explosion that rocked it, we get glimpses in fragments of Amor’s everyday relational life: scenes with his best friend, his brothers, his cousin, the woman he’s enamored of who doesn’t love him back. But the relationship that haunts him is the relationship between himself and the bomber. In one of the most profound and troubling moments of a play that is full of them, he says: “I’m not sure how much of it is in my head, you know?”
Khemiri’s text as originally translated by Rachel Willson-Broyles has been seamlessly Americanized by Forum such that the play seems to echo the emotions of countless people of color who live similarly in fear here. And the spectacular Forum production directed by Artistic Director Michael Dove leaves no nerve unfrayed. Lighting Designer Max Doolittle, Sound Designer Justin Schmitz, and Projections Designer Hannah Marsh in particular have devised cunning and stunning effects.
Audiences may differ in their experience of the plethora of special effects in the show—sudden shifts to amplification, line-by-line light cues, shocking flashes and crashes. Combined with the relative emotional remoteness in the portrayal of the central character, this could have an alienating effect (and not in a good Brechtian way).
And really, this is a play that wants no distance between us. This is a play whose emotional truths we need to feel even though they be not our own. Forum Theatre is to be commended for bringing I Call My Brothers to the Silver Spring Black Box and for demonstrating once again the indispensable power of theater to connect us internationally and close to home.
The script is both expressionist fable and memory play. It takes us into the life and psyche of an Arab man named Amor in the aftermath of a suicide car bombing. Amor had nothing to do with the crime; he’s completely innocent. A lone radical did it, someone who wore a keffiyeh. Yet because Amor fits the terrorist’s ethnic profile, he is instantly under citywide suspicion and at constant risk of racist reprisal. At one point Amor’s friends spell out for him the desolating implications. The goal is to blend in. The goal is to become invisible. Leave your keffiyeh at home. Do not carry a suspicious bag…. Smile at everyone and everything… Apologize for existing… You are not safe anywhere…. Don’t attract anyone’s attention…
Time in the play is fractured. Scenes jump-cut. A structured tension in the text keeps every moment on edge. In contrast to the crisis that has defined Amor’s world since the explosion that rocked it, we get glimpses in fragments of Amor’s everyday relational life: scenes with his best friend, his brothers, his cousin, the woman he’s enamored of who doesn’t love him back. But the relationship that haunts him is the relationship between himself and the bomber. In one of the most profound and troubling moments of a play that is full of them, he says: “I’m not sure how much of it is in my head, you know?”
Khemiri’s text as originally translated by Rachel Willson-Broyles has been seamlessly Americanized by Forum such that the play seems to echo the emotions of countless people of color who live similarly in fear here. And the spectacular Forum production directed by Artistic Director Michael Dove leaves no nerve unfrayed. Lighting Designer Max Doolittle, Sound Designer Justin Schmitz, and Projections Designer Hannah Marsh in particular have devised cunning and stunning effects.
Audiences may differ in their experience of the plethora of special effects in the show—sudden shifts to amplification, line-by-line light cues, shocking flashes and crashes. Combined with the relative emotional remoteness in the portrayal of the central character, this could have an alienating effect (and not in a good Brechtian way).
And really, this is a play that wants no distance between us. This is a play whose emotional truths we need to feel even though they be not our own. Forum Theatre is to be commended for bringing I Call My Brothers to the Silver Spring Black Box and for demonstrating once again the indispensable power of theater to connect us internationally and close to home.
DCTheatrescene.com: I Call My Brothers at Forum Theatre (review)
By: Amy Couchoud
Sept 19, 2016
Washington, DC, 2:16 AM, a car bomb goes off in a supposed terrorist attack. The suspect is a Middle Eastern-looking man with a beard. Amor is a Washingtonian of Middle Eastern descent with a beard and a large backpack who just needs to run a few errands the day after the bombing. In the middle of a town encouraged to say something if you see something, how can Amor go about his normal life without raising suspicion? Intense and visceral, I Call My Brothers is a portrait of the lasting psychological effects of being subjected to and internalizing racism.
Written by Jonas Hassen Khemiri in response to a terrorist attack in his native Stockholm, I Call My Brothers is an immersive look into the internal workings and emotional state of man who is an outsider in his own hometown. Amor is a stand-up guy. A sensitive and insightful science-lover who was bullied as a kid. He’s the guy everyone in his family goes to when they need help. But as we follow Amor over the 24 hours after the bombing, through direct address monologues and phone calls with his best friend, cousin, and others, we learn that Amor may not be exactly as he seems. There’s some anger hiding underneath the surface of his outwardly sweet and accommodating personality. He’s kind of a loner. His relationship with his good friend Valeria may have crossed the line from unrequited love to stalking. He carries a knife. Does Amor have a dark side? Or is he a man whose motivations are misinterpreted when viewed through the lens of his ethnicity?
Kamal’s affecting central performance is supported by an expert and engaging cast playing multiple characters, all giving standout performances. Staging and design choices that are simple, stark and suspenseful transport the audience inside the tumultuous state of Amor’s mind and emphasize the idea that he is under suspicion. Bright white circles of light, as if from interrogation room lamps, cross the stage in regular intervals, interrupted by jarring, blinding bright flashes like flashlights or flashbulbs and an ominous booming sound. The spare set is decorated with black and white video projections that look like surveillance video. Actors speak into microphones to denote when characters are speaking on the phone, amplifying Amor’s feelings of isolation.
The skill of the cast and artistic team bring a confidence and precision to a script that has the same jumbled timeline and abrupt changes in direction of a mind in the midst of intense anxiety and emotion. This is not a plot-based play, and those who prefer events that move forward with clarity may find I Call My Brothers frustrating. But it is thought-provoking and asks important questions without giving easy answers. By taking a visceral and emotional approach to a timely topic, I Call My Brothers makes an impression that will stay with you for days.
Written by Jonas Hassen Khemiri in response to a terrorist attack in his native Stockholm, I Call My Brothers is an immersive look into the internal workings and emotional state of man who is an outsider in his own hometown. Amor is a stand-up guy. A sensitive and insightful science-lover who was bullied as a kid. He’s the guy everyone in his family goes to when they need help. But as we follow Amor over the 24 hours after the bombing, through direct address monologues and phone calls with his best friend, cousin, and others, we learn that Amor may not be exactly as he seems. There’s some anger hiding underneath the surface of his outwardly sweet and accommodating personality. He’s kind of a loner. His relationship with his good friend Valeria may have crossed the line from unrequited love to stalking. He carries a knife. Does Amor have a dark side? Or is he a man whose motivations are misinterpreted when viewed through the lens of his ethnicity?
Kamal’s affecting central performance is supported by an expert and engaging cast playing multiple characters, all giving standout performances. Staging and design choices that are simple, stark and suspenseful transport the audience inside the tumultuous state of Amor’s mind and emphasize the idea that he is under suspicion. Bright white circles of light, as if from interrogation room lamps, cross the stage in regular intervals, interrupted by jarring, blinding bright flashes like flashlights or flashbulbs and an ominous booming sound. The spare set is decorated with black and white video projections that look like surveillance video. Actors speak into microphones to denote when characters are speaking on the phone, amplifying Amor’s feelings of isolation.
The skill of the cast and artistic team bring a confidence and precision to a script that has the same jumbled timeline and abrupt changes in direction of a mind in the midst of intense anxiety and emotion. This is not a plot-based play, and those who prefer events that move forward with clarity may find I Call My Brothers frustrating. But it is thought-provoking and asks important questions without giving easy answers. By taking a visceral and emotional approach to a timely topic, I Call My Brothers makes an impression that will stay with you for days.
BWW Review: Forum Theatre's Chilling THE PILLOWMAN
By: Benjamin Tomchik
March 15th, 2016
When was the last time you had a truly suspenseful evening at the theatre? Not suspenseful in a "whodunit" sort of way. Suspenseful in that the play kept you guessing and you never knew what would come next. This is exactly what you experience in Forum Theatre's chilling production of Martin McDonagh's The Pillowman. Let's be clear, this play is not for everyone. Those who know McDonagh know that his work usually features dark humor, dreary situations and characters with a penchant for excessive foul language and violence. The Pillowman is no exception. However, while in some of his plays, specifically the brilliant Lieutenant of Inishmore, all those attributes are used to convey a message, with The Pillowman what we're left with is a murky resolution.
That's not to take away from Forum's production which is exceptionally well-acted by a stellar cast and features a chilling production design. . The Pillowman's plot revolves around a writer named Katurian (Maboud Ebrahimzadeh) living in a totalitarian state who finds himself in jail. Unaware of why he's being detained, Detectives Tupolski (Jim Jorgensen) and Ariel (Bradley Foster Smith) reveal that several children have recently been murdered in a fashion similar to characters in his stories.
McDonagh is not bashful in hiding the disturbing nature of Katurian's stories or the gruesome deaths of the children. It's just that these details become so explicit, so heavy, that they tend to puncture the play's humor. What we're left to ponder is why we're watching this dismal situation. What keeps us intrigued are some solid performances led by Ebrahimzadeh, who anchors the production. He gives a wonderfully nuanced performance as Katurian, effortlessly channeling the character's various layers. There's the passionate storyteller, devoted brother and street-smart prisoner all of which we see in his relationships with each of the other characters. The strongest connection is between Katurian and his developmentally disabled brother Michal (James Konicek). The brotherly bond is expertly developed with skill by Konicek. His Michal is equal parts charming, naïve, cunning and unhinged, yet we can't help but feel for his character.
Much of dark comedy we come to expect from McDonagh is dispatched to Tupolski and Ariel, perfected by Jorgensen and Smith. Each cop has his idiosyncrasies, which Smith in particular, uses to great effect. He's able to channel Ariel's life goals and repressed rage to give a performance that is satirically funny. Fans of Joseph Heller's Catch-22, will find traces of that humor in The Pillowman. Jorgenson's Tupolski is the real wild card with a performance that is wickedly deranged. Equally, if not more, twisted then Ariel, Jorgenson always leaves us guessing about his character's next move. It's that suspense which, despite the play's flaws, keeps us hooked.
The situation is made all the more intense by a terrifically eerie production design. Forum's black box theatre has been turned into one giant detention room courtesy of Set Designer Paige Hathaway. In the center of the room is a small cell that allows the audience to feel as if they're apart of Ariel and Tupolski's inquisition. The cold, drab cinderblock cell walls conjure up Soviet style construction and Jason Arnold's masterful lighting design and Justin Schmitz thrilling sound design enhance the feel of living under a dictatorship. Schmitz has anthems from former Soviet bloc countries greet patrons as they enter. It's a nice, cheeky touch. Once the play begins, he creates a haunting, foreboding feeling that places the audience inside the jail. Arnold's best work though is when Katurian's stories are projected inside his cell. The lighting design quickly turns a childlike dream sequence into a nightmare by having the puppet's shadows grow increasingly menacing. Director Yury Urnov's approach has the cast utilize the whole theatre giving the production a fluidity that mostly succeeds ... Aside from this one moment, The Pillowman is an innovative production in its use of space, lighting and sound design.
A major pet peeve in any performance, be it play, musical, opera etc., is predictability. There's no use telling the story if the audience can see the conflict and resolution one act or one hour before it actually happens. With The Pillowman, there's none of that. Forum's chilling production will certainly keep you in suspense.
That's not to take away from Forum's production which is exceptionally well-acted by a stellar cast and features a chilling production design. . The Pillowman's plot revolves around a writer named Katurian (Maboud Ebrahimzadeh) living in a totalitarian state who finds himself in jail. Unaware of why he's being detained, Detectives Tupolski (Jim Jorgensen) and Ariel (Bradley Foster Smith) reveal that several children have recently been murdered in a fashion similar to characters in his stories.
McDonagh is not bashful in hiding the disturbing nature of Katurian's stories or the gruesome deaths of the children. It's just that these details become so explicit, so heavy, that they tend to puncture the play's humor. What we're left to ponder is why we're watching this dismal situation. What keeps us intrigued are some solid performances led by Ebrahimzadeh, who anchors the production. He gives a wonderfully nuanced performance as Katurian, effortlessly channeling the character's various layers. There's the passionate storyteller, devoted brother and street-smart prisoner all of which we see in his relationships with each of the other characters. The strongest connection is between Katurian and his developmentally disabled brother Michal (James Konicek). The brotherly bond is expertly developed with skill by Konicek. His Michal is equal parts charming, naïve, cunning and unhinged, yet we can't help but feel for his character.
Much of dark comedy we come to expect from McDonagh is dispatched to Tupolski and Ariel, perfected by Jorgensen and Smith. Each cop has his idiosyncrasies, which Smith in particular, uses to great effect. He's able to channel Ariel's life goals and repressed rage to give a performance that is satirically funny. Fans of Joseph Heller's Catch-22, will find traces of that humor in The Pillowman. Jorgenson's Tupolski is the real wild card with a performance that is wickedly deranged. Equally, if not more, twisted then Ariel, Jorgenson always leaves us guessing about his character's next move. It's that suspense which, despite the play's flaws, keeps us hooked.
The situation is made all the more intense by a terrifically eerie production design. Forum's black box theatre has been turned into one giant detention room courtesy of Set Designer Paige Hathaway. In the center of the room is a small cell that allows the audience to feel as if they're apart of Ariel and Tupolski's inquisition. The cold, drab cinderblock cell walls conjure up Soviet style construction and Jason Arnold's masterful lighting design and Justin Schmitz thrilling sound design enhance the feel of living under a dictatorship. Schmitz has anthems from former Soviet bloc countries greet patrons as they enter. It's a nice, cheeky touch. Once the play begins, he creates a haunting, foreboding feeling that places the audience inside the jail. Arnold's best work though is when Katurian's stories are projected inside his cell. The lighting design quickly turns a childlike dream sequence into a nightmare by having the puppet's shadows grow increasingly menacing. Director Yury Urnov's approach has the cast utilize the whole theatre giving the production a fluidity that mostly succeeds ... Aside from this one moment, The Pillowman is an innovative production in its use of space, lighting and sound design.
A major pet peeve in any performance, be it play, musical, opera etc., is predictability. There's no use telling the story if the audience can see the conflict and resolution one act or one hour before it actually happens. With The Pillowman, there's none of that. Forum's chilling production will certainly keep you in suspense.
Review: The Pillowman at Forum Theatre
By Amanda N. Gunther
March 15th, 2016
We are not animals. We are watching. But what if we are animals and are not to be trusted? Forum Theatre brings to the stage in a fully immersive and unapologetically evocative experience Martin McDonagh’s The Pillowman. Directed by Yury Urnov, this deceptively dark drama and majestically macabre tale unfolds in a surreal reality that is simultaneously in the audience’s periphery and just outside of their vision. Remarkably experiential, as the audience is quite literally the on-looking totalitarian dictatorship masses, this striking production will keep you unnaturally enthralled straight through to the show’s shocking and deeply harrowing conclusion.
The Pillowman at Forum Theatre show’s aesthetic is an enticing factor on its own, doubly so when the show becomes immersive to the point of drawing the audience into its reality from the lobby exposure onward. Fabricating a fully submerged reality where the play’s existence melts fluidly into the perceptive actuality of the audience, Set Designer Paige Hathaway, working inside the visionary parameters of Director Yury Urnov, exposes the audience to the live interrogation of writer Katurian K. Katurian by placing theatergoers directly in the midst of the events as they unfold. With a dynamically displaced three-quarters thrusted stage setup, Hathaway frames the audience so that they are the on-looking investigators. Lighting Designer Jason Arnold turns this notion on its head, juxtaposing this reality with that of a visual scoping technique wherein the audience starts the production off seeing only through the eyes of the accused, remaining in darkness so long as he is blindfolded.
Arnold’s work speaks for itself in both its dramatic effect and pure wondrous display. The luminescence and shadow play featured in ebbing waves throughout the performance creates palpable shifts in moods, whether they are to darkly alight a story as it unfurls, highlight an ugly truth as it unwinds, or blindside the innocence of a situation as it is unmasked. There is spectacle and wonder, yet earnestly achieved, in Arnold’s design work, and this furthers the immersive experience as the audience’s eyes are invited into the demented dance of shadows, silhouettes, and other unsavory sensations through the lens of his work.
Adding to the aesthetical amazement is the work of Sound Designer Justin Schmitz. Creating an aural symphony that is both distressingly beautiful and frighteningly unsettling, Schmitz fits the emotional turmoil of the show succinctly into the burbling soundscape, whether it’s the haunting music that floats along beneath the stories that are told, or the background effects featured during the initial interrogation encounter, driving home an ominous sense of foreboding around each and every sinister twist of the plot.
Completing the audience-steeped aesthetic is the work of Costume Designer Robert Croghan and Properties Designer Patti Kalil. While the outfits and props of the show are not directly integrated into the audience’s experience the way the set and other production design elements are (The Commandant’s militaristic costume excluded from such exclusions), they are more than worthy of praise if for nothing but the curious shock value that they add to the performance, particularly the hand-scrawled story of “The Tale of the Town on the River” and the unnerving faceless puppet children.
There are too many moments of perfection captured under glass like a radiant living specimen to mention in Director Yury Urnov’s work. Between the immersive hybrid of interactive theatre where the audience is not only watching but living the play and the overall stellar approach to the pacing— the first act is nearly two hours in length but feels like a mere blink in the time-space continuum— it can be said that this production is both astonishing and phenomenal. Urnov’s approach to the more brutal topics and overarching themes contained within the work are poignantly topical, particularly the direct exposure to police corruption and brutality. Augmented by the exacting work of Fight Choreographer Casey Kaleba, moments where these situations come to a head bring the audience to the edge of their seats, riveted to the action as it is pounded out onto the stage.
Ariel (Bradley Foster Smith) and Tupolski (Jim Jorgensen) not only represent but fully embody the notion of “bad cop/good cop” respectively. Smith’s portrayal of the high-strung and spastically combative type-A personality officer is an exaggerated caricature of the worst perception of overly corrupt people in positions in powerful authority. Jorgensen delivers a much subtler, milder, and calmer approach to his detective, though is not without his breaking points and progressive build-ups as the story unravels. The haughty disregard of actual justice that underscores both Jorgensen and Smith’s performances is jarring but not unsurprising; their dynamic deliveries of human beings who have become corrupted by the very profession that is meant to prevent such corruption is powerful, poignant, and pungent, packing punches to the gut with heavy weight behind them.
The stories belong to Katurian (Maboud Ebrahimzadeh) but the story itself is half his and half his brother’s tale. Michal (James Konicek) is as much the protagonist in The Pillowman as Katurian, if not more so at times, and the way the story— both in and of itself and the telling thereof— wends between the two brothers is fascinating. Ebrahimzadeh delivers his character with a striking level of vulnerability and earnestness. There is no subversion or provocation in his portrayal, only honest emotions, most of which translate plainly across his vividly expressed face. When Ebrahimzadeh delves into ‘storytelling mode’ either directly to the audience, like in cases of “The Writer and The Writer’s Brother” or in “The Little Jesus”, he becomes a vessel of words that transports the tale to our ears and our ears to the tale. When engaging in stories that he tells directly to Michal, such as “The Pillowman” and “The Little Green Pig”, Ebrahimzadeh takes on a much more animated tone, knowing that his tales are meant to reach the inner childlike mentality of his brother.
Konicek, as the damaged brother, toes a fine line in portraying this character as such. With a present mindfulness of childlike naiveté, Konicek delivers the epitome of balance to Michal in keeping him simple but not stupid, convivial without falling into the archetype of the mentally-challenged adult. The compassion with which he imbues certain aspects of the character’s affectation— like nervous responses or irritated flare-ups— are manifested in a mostly physical fashion and these rings true to the way in which McDonagh has penned Michal. Konicek’s energy seems indefatigable, and he is perpetually in motion, even when at rest or cowering into a stillness, cajoled there by his brother. The fraternal relationship that is portrayed between Konicek and Ebrahimzadeh is one tested with deeper bonds than blood and held fast by a readily identifiable notion of love and protection.
The story is harrowing. The story is beautiful. The story is striking and evocative, and filled with moments that shock, that strike the emotional core of humanity, that arouse our darkly amused demons which we wish to ignore. A story not to be missed, Forum Theatre’s The Pillowman is a gripping production that will leave you speechless by story’s end.
The Pillowman at Forum Theatre show’s aesthetic is an enticing factor on its own, doubly so when the show becomes immersive to the point of drawing the audience into its reality from the lobby exposure onward. Fabricating a fully submerged reality where the play’s existence melts fluidly into the perceptive actuality of the audience, Set Designer Paige Hathaway, working inside the visionary parameters of Director Yury Urnov, exposes the audience to the live interrogation of writer Katurian K. Katurian by placing theatergoers directly in the midst of the events as they unfold. With a dynamically displaced three-quarters thrusted stage setup, Hathaway frames the audience so that they are the on-looking investigators. Lighting Designer Jason Arnold turns this notion on its head, juxtaposing this reality with that of a visual scoping technique wherein the audience starts the production off seeing only through the eyes of the accused, remaining in darkness so long as he is blindfolded.
Arnold’s work speaks for itself in both its dramatic effect and pure wondrous display. The luminescence and shadow play featured in ebbing waves throughout the performance creates palpable shifts in moods, whether they are to darkly alight a story as it unfurls, highlight an ugly truth as it unwinds, or blindside the innocence of a situation as it is unmasked. There is spectacle and wonder, yet earnestly achieved, in Arnold’s design work, and this furthers the immersive experience as the audience’s eyes are invited into the demented dance of shadows, silhouettes, and other unsavory sensations through the lens of his work.
Adding to the aesthetical amazement is the work of Sound Designer Justin Schmitz. Creating an aural symphony that is both distressingly beautiful and frighteningly unsettling, Schmitz fits the emotional turmoil of the show succinctly into the burbling soundscape, whether it’s the haunting music that floats along beneath the stories that are told, or the background effects featured during the initial interrogation encounter, driving home an ominous sense of foreboding around each and every sinister twist of the plot.
Completing the audience-steeped aesthetic is the work of Costume Designer Robert Croghan and Properties Designer Patti Kalil. While the outfits and props of the show are not directly integrated into the audience’s experience the way the set and other production design elements are (The Commandant’s militaristic costume excluded from such exclusions), they are more than worthy of praise if for nothing but the curious shock value that they add to the performance, particularly the hand-scrawled story of “The Tale of the Town on the River” and the unnerving faceless puppet children.
There are too many moments of perfection captured under glass like a radiant living specimen to mention in Director Yury Urnov’s work. Between the immersive hybrid of interactive theatre where the audience is not only watching but living the play and the overall stellar approach to the pacing— the first act is nearly two hours in length but feels like a mere blink in the time-space continuum— it can be said that this production is both astonishing and phenomenal. Urnov’s approach to the more brutal topics and overarching themes contained within the work are poignantly topical, particularly the direct exposure to police corruption and brutality. Augmented by the exacting work of Fight Choreographer Casey Kaleba, moments where these situations come to a head bring the audience to the edge of their seats, riveted to the action as it is pounded out onto the stage.
Ariel (Bradley Foster Smith) and Tupolski (Jim Jorgensen) not only represent but fully embody the notion of “bad cop/good cop” respectively. Smith’s portrayal of the high-strung and spastically combative type-A personality officer is an exaggerated caricature of the worst perception of overly corrupt people in positions in powerful authority. Jorgensen delivers a much subtler, milder, and calmer approach to his detective, though is not without his breaking points and progressive build-ups as the story unravels. The haughty disregard of actual justice that underscores both Jorgensen and Smith’s performances is jarring but not unsurprising; their dynamic deliveries of human beings who have become corrupted by the very profession that is meant to prevent such corruption is powerful, poignant, and pungent, packing punches to the gut with heavy weight behind them.
The stories belong to Katurian (Maboud Ebrahimzadeh) but the story itself is half his and half his brother’s tale. Michal (James Konicek) is as much the protagonist in The Pillowman as Katurian, if not more so at times, and the way the story— both in and of itself and the telling thereof— wends between the two brothers is fascinating. Ebrahimzadeh delivers his character with a striking level of vulnerability and earnestness. There is no subversion or provocation in his portrayal, only honest emotions, most of which translate plainly across his vividly expressed face. When Ebrahimzadeh delves into ‘storytelling mode’ either directly to the audience, like in cases of “The Writer and The Writer’s Brother” or in “The Little Jesus”, he becomes a vessel of words that transports the tale to our ears and our ears to the tale. When engaging in stories that he tells directly to Michal, such as “The Pillowman” and “The Little Green Pig”, Ebrahimzadeh takes on a much more animated tone, knowing that his tales are meant to reach the inner childlike mentality of his brother.
Konicek, as the damaged brother, toes a fine line in portraying this character as such. With a present mindfulness of childlike naiveté, Konicek delivers the epitome of balance to Michal in keeping him simple but not stupid, convivial without falling into the archetype of the mentally-challenged adult. The compassion with which he imbues certain aspects of the character’s affectation— like nervous responses or irritated flare-ups— are manifested in a mostly physical fashion and these rings true to the way in which McDonagh has penned Michal. Konicek’s energy seems indefatigable, and he is perpetually in motion, even when at rest or cowering into a stillness, cajoled there by his brother. The fraternal relationship that is portrayed between Konicek and Ebrahimzadeh is one tested with deeper bonds than blood and held fast by a readily identifiable notion of love and protection.
The story is harrowing. The story is beautiful. The story is striking and evocative, and filled with moments that shock, that strike the emotional core of humanity, that arouse our darkly amused demons which we wish to ignore. A story not to be missed, Forum Theatre’s The Pillowman is a gripping production that will leave you speechless by story’s end.
Review: 'The Pillowan' at Forum Theatre
by Michael Poandl
March 14th, 2016
Urnov’s production is so successful because he completely nails the unholy McDonagh trifecta of violence/laughter/social commentary. The Pillowman careens back and forth between shocking tragedy and an almost giddy physical comedy. It swoops in and out of violence so black it makes it difficult to laugh… until something so funny happens that you can’t help it. This is the endless motion that makes The Pillowman so compelling – and certifies this production as indispensable viewing for fans of contemporary drama.
Of course, it isn’t solely to Urnov’s credit that Forum’s The Pillowman is so successful. It can also be chalked up to an incredible cast. Forum alumnus Maboud Ebrahimzadeh stars as Katurian K. Katurian (“my parents were funny people,” he deadpans in the first scene), Katurian’s gruesome short stories are being acted out in the real world, possibly by his mentally-challenged brother, Michal (James Konicek). This leads to some Stasi style interrogation by Detectives Ariel (Bradley Foster Smith) and Tupolski (Jim Jorgensen). The former, played by Smith, is a tough-talking cop with a fondness for electrodes. Smith’s Detective Ariel is wiry and neurotic, glowering through 1970s style aviator eyeglasses and inhaling his nicotine vaporizer (because it’s 2016, folks). By contrast, Jorgensen is a calmer, almost languid Tupolski, whose voice may even drift into lilting territory. But make no mistake: Tupolski is every bit as ruthless as his partner, and Jorgenson is nothing short of captivating as he reveals glimpses of the true sadist lurking underneath his polished exterior.
.
Now, the first thing you will notice when your Forum Pillowman experience begins is the faux-propaganda posters that line the lobby of the Silver Spring Black Box. Then, you may see a striking woman in full Gestapo dominatrix drag (Emma Lou Hébert, who plays her multiple roles with ease and vitality) stridently giving instructions to anyone who’s around. Sealing the Orwellian deal, when you walk into the space itself, you will see that each row of the sprawling three-quarters house is separated by long, thin conference tables. Reminiscent of a government hearing or a Victorian medical theater, the seating confers a sense that us the audience are complicit in the state-sanctioned abuse we are about to witness.
In the center of the space is a giant cube where Katurian begins the play, bound and blindfolded, at your standard metal interrogation table. But the interesting thing is that the space, while marked with intimidating metal bars, is completely empty; there is no barrier. This strange, evocative and completely non-naturalistic setup (which is courtesy, by the way, of Scenic Designer Paige Hathaway) creates a sense that the whole thing is a circus, a kangaroo court meant more as entertainment for the masses than as a legitimate investigative proceeding. At various points throughout the show, the actors even break the fourth wall, transforming the audience into silent co-conspirators. Hathaway should also be commended for the stunningly macabre mural that appears at one point in the show. The piece is a powerful work of visual art in and of itself that transforms the atmosphere of the show during a critical moment.
The stage picture is completed with a complex and dramatic lighting design by Jason Arnold and a strong costume design by Robert Croghan. The sound design, by Justin Schmitz, is an impressively active part of the show that adds sonic texture to an already imposing space.
Buried underneath all the bloody puzzle pieces that make up this play are surprising nuggets of hope: random kindnesses and the like. McDonagh never lets things get too affectionate – this is a play that gets very dark, after all. But it is a reminder that we don’t have to settle for either comedy or tragedy, social commentary or slapstick farce. We can have our cake and eat it too. And in Forum’s production, this bloody treat has never tasted better.
Of course, it isn’t solely to Urnov’s credit that Forum’s The Pillowman is so successful. It can also be chalked up to an incredible cast. Forum alumnus Maboud Ebrahimzadeh stars as Katurian K. Katurian (“my parents were funny people,” he deadpans in the first scene), Katurian’s gruesome short stories are being acted out in the real world, possibly by his mentally-challenged brother, Michal (James Konicek). This leads to some Stasi style interrogation by Detectives Ariel (Bradley Foster Smith) and Tupolski (Jim Jorgensen). The former, played by Smith, is a tough-talking cop with a fondness for electrodes. Smith’s Detective Ariel is wiry and neurotic, glowering through 1970s style aviator eyeglasses and inhaling his nicotine vaporizer (because it’s 2016, folks). By contrast, Jorgensen is a calmer, almost languid Tupolski, whose voice may even drift into lilting territory. But make no mistake: Tupolski is every bit as ruthless as his partner, and Jorgenson is nothing short of captivating as he reveals glimpses of the true sadist lurking underneath his polished exterior.
.
Now, the first thing you will notice when your Forum Pillowman experience begins is the faux-propaganda posters that line the lobby of the Silver Spring Black Box. Then, you may see a striking woman in full Gestapo dominatrix drag (Emma Lou Hébert, who plays her multiple roles with ease and vitality) stridently giving instructions to anyone who’s around. Sealing the Orwellian deal, when you walk into the space itself, you will see that each row of the sprawling three-quarters house is separated by long, thin conference tables. Reminiscent of a government hearing or a Victorian medical theater, the seating confers a sense that us the audience are complicit in the state-sanctioned abuse we are about to witness.
In the center of the space is a giant cube where Katurian begins the play, bound and blindfolded, at your standard metal interrogation table. But the interesting thing is that the space, while marked with intimidating metal bars, is completely empty; there is no barrier. This strange, evocative and completely non-naturalistic setup (which is courtesy, by the way, of Scenic Designer Paige Hathaway) creates a sense that the whole thing is a circus, a kangaroo court meant more as entertainment for the masses than as a legitimate investigative proceeding. At various points throughout the show, the actors even break the fourth wall, transforming the audience into silent co-conspirators. Hathaway should also be commended for the stunningly macabre mural that appears at one point in the show. The piece is a powerful work of visual art in and of itself that transforms the atmosphere of the show during a critical moment.
The stage picture is completed with a complex and dramatic lighting design by Jason Arnold and a strong costume design by Robert Croghan. The sound design, by Justin Schmitz, is an impressively active part of the show that adds sonic texture to an already imposing space.
Buried underneath all the bloody puzzle pieces that make up this play are surprising nuggets of hope: random kindnesses and the like. McDonagh never lets things get too affectionate – this is a play that gets very dark, after all. But it is a reminder that we don’t have to settle for either comedy or tragedy, social commentary or slapstick farce. We can have our cake and eat it too. And in Forum’s production, this bloody treat has never tasted better.
Theatre Review: ‘Georgie’ at Signature Theatre
Posted By: Chris Williams
January 15, 2016
In Georgie: My Adventures with George Rose, Ed Dixon brings to life his relationship with friend and mentor Tony-award winning character actor George Rose. In so doing he also offers a kind of double biography of life in the theatre: Rose’s and his own. While Rose’s illustrious career is well documented, there remains even today, 18 years later, uncertainty and mystery surrounding his violent death in 1988. Dixon does not shy away from the realities of life or death in his own script for Georgie.
Georgie is part biography, part memoir, part eulogy, and part confession. It is, however, every part Theatre; Theatre about Theatre, as it happens. When discussing Rose’s pivotal role in the very first production of “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” we even move into the recursive realm of Theatre about Theatre about Theatre. In capturing the life of someone like Rose with a tendency to “break through the fourth wall,” these layers of meaning are a deeply pleasing texture.
Last night’s performance was briefly interrupted by a power-out. The lights returned just as the young Dixon arrived at the eccentric Rose’s 1970s Greenwich apartment which, incidentally, he shared with two mountain lions. There was a lovely touch of fortuitous theatre magic about the moment, and Dixon handled this unavoidable collapse of his own fourth wall with a grace and good humour of which Rose would have approved.
Eric Schaeffer’s set design captures both the theatre and its metaphorical collapse. We are, perhaps, backstage in an abandoned theatre which has, literally, been torn from the, proverbial, pages of history. The fly system’s ropes, frayed at the edges, are torn diagonally along a line meeting a semi-destroyed proscenium. There is a careful attention to detail and meaning here, just as in the script, which lifts the piece above amusing anecdote, though there are certainly plenty of amusing anecdotes, too.
Dixon’s performance is superb, and, together with Schaeffer, who also directed the piece, they admirably handle a word-heavy 90 minutes of theatre, with few moments of repose. At the very opening, Chris Lee’s lights animate the set elegantly, though some of the repeated sharp cues delineating change of time or location became distracting and seemed unnecessarily didactic. A recording of an orchestra “tuning up” at the start of the piece is a smart and amusing theatrical touch from Justin Schmitz’s sound design.
In the script to Georgie, we return to events and phrases, each time seeing them in a new light or understanding them in a new way. Dixon brings us back to the life of George Rose, to his own life, and their relationship, for the same reason. His first impression of Rose was of a “very ordinary looking middle-aged man.” The subsequent story teaches us to be wary of first impressions, and to perhaps pay more attention to the “startling glint” in someone’s “eyes” rather than their bad choice of shoes. Georgie might not completely clarify the mystery of George Rose’s untimely demise, but it is an important, personal and affecting contribution to considering all the ambiguities of his life. There is no doubt that Dixon was gifted a story to tell in his relationship with Rose, and in its telling, Georgie demonstrates how worthy he is of this gift.
Georgie is part biography, part memoir, part eulogy, and part confession. It is, however, every part Theatre; Theatre about Theatre, as it happens. When discussing Rose’s pivotal role in the very first production of “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” we even move into the recursive realm of Theatre about Theatre about Theatre. In capturing the life of someone like Rose with a tendency to “break through the fourth wall,” these layers of meaning are a deeply pleasing texture.
Last night’s performance was briefly interrupted by a power-out. The lights returned just as the young Dixon arrived at the eccentric Rose’s 1970s Greenwich apartment which, incidentally, he shared with two mountain lions. There was a lovely touch of fortuitous theatre magic about the moment, and Dixon handled this unavoidable collapse of his own fourth wall with a grace and good humour of which Rose would have approved.
Eric Schaeffer’s set design captures both the theatre and its metaphorical collapse. We are, perhaps, backstage in an abandoned theatre which has, literally, been torn from the, proverbial, pages of history. The fly system’s ropes, frayed at the edges, are torn diagonally along a line meeting a semi-destroyed proscenium. There is a careful attention to detail and meaning here, just as in the script, which lifts the piece above amusing anecdote, though there are certainly plenty of amusing anecdotes, too.
Dixon’s performance is superb, and, together with Schaeffer, who also directed the piece, they admirably handle a word-heavy 90 minutes of theatre, with few moments of repose. At the very opening, Chris Lee’s lights animate the set elegantly, though some of the repeated sharp cues delineating change of time or location became distracting and seemed unnecessarily didactic. A recording of an orchestra “tuning up” at the start of the piece is a smart and amusing theatrical touch from Justin Schmitz’s sound design.
In the script to Georgie, we return to events and phrases, each time seeing them in a new light or understanding them in a new way. Dixon brings us back to the life of George Rose, to his own life, and their relationship, for the same reason. His first impression of Rose was of a “very ordinary looking middle-aged man.” The subsequent story teaches us to be wary of first impressions, and to perhaps pay more attention to the “startling glint” in someone’s “eyes” rather than their bad choice of shoes. Georgie might not completely clarify the mystery of George Rose’s untimely demise, but it is an important, personal and affecting contribution to considering all the ambiguities of his life. There is no doubt that Dixon was gifted a story to tell in his relationship with Rose, and in its telling, Georgie demonstrates how worthy he is of this gift.
"Stars of David: Story to Song" at Theater J
Written by: John Stoltenberg
December 23, 2015
Stars of David: Story to Song--a rapturously beautiful concert musical now in a limited engagement at Theater J—is a unique blend of thrilling singing and insightful biography. Illuminating incidents from the lives of actual people—all boldface names and Jewish by birth—have been crystalized and lyricized into 14 songs sung simply and shimmeringly by a cast of four accompanied solely by a grand piano. Last night the show turned the Aaron & Cecile Goldman Theater into one of DC’s premiere concert halls. Stars of David: Story to Song is adapted from a book of the same name, a compilation of probing personal interviews conducted by journalist Abigail Pogrebin with an eclectic list of notables. Those whose lives are touched on in song in the show include many who are linked to the performing arts—Mike Nichols, Andy Cohen, Tony Kushner, Gwyneth Paltrow, Aaron Sorkin, Leonard Nimoy, Fran Drescher, Michael Feinstein, Norman Lear—and some public figures who are not—Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Gloria Steinem, Kenneth Cole, Edgar Bronfman Sr.
Theater J Associate Artistic Director Shirley Serotsky directs an ensemble of singer-actors who are so good they kept stealing and nearly stopping the show: Joshua Dick, Emily Levey, Sherri L. Edelen, and Aaron Serotsky (Shirley’s twin brother). The virtuoso pianist was Jacob Kidder; the gifted music director, George Fulginit-Shakar. And a shoutout to Sound Designer Justin Schmitz for the ace mic’ing and mixing.
Though on paper Stars of David sounds as if it could be a grab bag of tunes by dissimilar songwriters with disparate styles who just happen to have been given the same assignment, in performance the show plays completely of a piece—and more movingly than I could have imagined. “Concert musical” does not convey the show’s reach and resonance, because what connects each song sung and story told is not these notables’ fame but their very personal and private reflection on what it means to be a Jew in America. It is a question the show poses like a many-faceted crystal, glinting in all directions depending on the light. It is a question the show poses like a stone, as impenetrable as it is enduring.
The timing of Theater J’s programming of this show could not be more apt. While mainstream culture is awash in a secularized sectarian celebration that prompts no particular critical self-examination about what it means to be Christian in America, Stars of David shines a bright light on the meaning of Jewish identity that to this particular non-Jew felt awesomely universal. True, Stars of David is descriptively a concert musical. But it is far more than meets the ear. It is meaning that meets the heart.
Theater J Associate Artistic Director Shirley Serotsky directs an ensemble of singer-actors who are so good they kept stealing and nearly stopping the show: Joshua Dick, Emily Levey, Sherri L. Edelen, and Aaron Serotsky (Shirley’s twin brother). The virtuoso pianist was Jacob Kidder; the gifted music director, George Fulginit-Shakar. And a shoutout to Sound Designer Justin Schmitz for the ace mic’ing and mixing.
Though on paper Stars of David sounds as if it could be a grab bag of tunes by dissimilar songwriters with disparate styles who just happen to have been given the same assignment, in performance the show plays completely of a piece—and more movingly than I could have imagined. “Concert musical” does not convey the show’s reach and resonance, because what connects each song sung and story told is not these notables’ fame but their very personal and private reflection on what it means to be a Jew in America. It is a question the show poses like a many-faceted crystal, glinting in all directions depending on the light. It is a question the show poses like a stone, as impenetrable as it is enduring.
The timing of Theater J’s programming of this show could not be more apt. While mainstream culture is awash in a secularized sectarian celebration that prompts no particular critical self-examination about what it means to be Christian in America, Stars of David shines a bright light on the meaning of Jewish identity that to this particular non-Jew felt awesomely universal. True, Stars of David is descriptively a concert musical. But it is far more than meets the ear. It is meaning that meets the heart.
Women's Voices Theater Festival: 'Darius & Twig' at the Kennedy Center
By: Robert Michael Oliver
Oct 31, 2015
Darius & Twig, tackles issues confronted by inner city kids throughout the country. And it does so with a mixture of hope and hard truth that is as delicate as it is engaging. You and your teenager might not leave the theatre ready to soar like Darius’s imaginary peregrine falcon “Fury”, but you’ll definitely feel the wind lift underneath your wings.
Set in New York’s Harlem, Darius & Twig is based on a novel by award-winning author Walter Dean Myers; it has been adopted for the stage by Caleen Sinnette Jennings.
Its two young African American men grow up on Harlem’s violence-torn streets, but they could be growing up on any urban street in the country. Terrorized by thugs and taunted by guns, Darius and Twig have their heads filled with dreams and no amount of bad circumstances will beat them down. Twig’s heart pumps with desire: a desire to run faster than any other high schooler in the state. On the other hand, his friend Darius prefers pen to feet; in fact, when challenged to run a mile he collapses three quarters through in cries of “Uncle!” Yet, Darius’s desire to publish his story drives him again and again back to the keyboard to write and re-write. With distressed family support networks, Darius and Twig depend on each other to survive Harlem’s dangerous streets and their own internal despair.
Director Eleanor Holdridge handles the fast-paced script with excellent timing and visual diversity, moving characters in and off the stage without pause. The production team is lead by set designer Andrew Cohen whose visually dazzling set invokes a paradoxical array of oppressiveness and hope, from its somewhat crowded floor space to its wide open urban sky in the background. A big basketball backboard, pole, and hoop turns out to be more iconic than practical, however, as neither teen cares much for hoops. Lit by Johnathan Alexander and costumed by Danielle Preston, the production’s scenography adds visual depth to the play’s text.
Nick Hernandez and Justin Schmitz add musical direction and sound design to the production’s entertaining results.
Darius & Twig suffers from some of that ironic credulity. What would the youth of Harlem think of Darius and Twig’s struggle and their world? That, we may never find out.
Set in New York’s Harlem, Darius & Twig is based on a novel by award-winning author Walter Dean Myers; it has been adopted for the stage by Caleen Sinnette Jennings.
Its two young African American men grow up on Harlem’s violence-torn streets, but they could be growing up on any urban street in the country. Terrorized by thugs and taunted by guns, Darius and Twig have their heads filled with dreams and no amount of bad circumstances will beat them down. Twig’s heart pumps with desire: a desire to run faster than any other high schooler in the state. On the other hand, his friend Darius prefers pen to feet; in fact, when challenged to run a mile he collapses three quarters through in cries of “Uncle!” Yet, Darius’s desire to publish his story drives him again and again back to the keyboard to write and re-write. With distressed family support networks, Darius and Twig depend on each other to survive Harlem’s dangerous streets and their own internal despair.
Director Eleanor Holdridge handles the fast-paced script with excellent timing and visual diversity, moving characters in and off the stage without pause. The production team is lead by set designer Andrew Cohen whose visually dazzling set invokes a paradoxical array of oppressiveness and hope, from its somewhat crowded floor space to its wide open urban sky in the background. A big basketball backboard, pole, and hoop turns out to be more iconic than practical, however, as neither teen cares much for hoops. Lit by Johnathan Alexander and costumed by Danielle Preston, the production’s scenography adds visual depth to the play’s text.
Nick Hernandez and Justin Schmitz add musical direction and sound design to the production’s entertaining results.
Darius & Twig suffers from some of that ironic credulity. What would the youth of Harlem think of Darius and Twig’s struggle and their world? That, we may never find out.
It's Alive! CTC Stages "Frankenstein" as One-Night-Only Radio Play
By Josh Austin
Part of the thrill of reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is envisioning that night when the monster is created, the eccentric doctor shouting, the electrical wires surging through the lifeless creature and then, finally, the slight stirring of a hand as the being wakes up.
In addition to relying on voice and sound, Hartmann is employing the use of Foley art (designed by CTC sound design fellow Justin Schmitz) throughout the production — including creaking doors, footsteps, electrical storms and even a body being torn apart.
Taking a note from Orson Welles’ “War of the Worlds” and his other Mercury Theatre radio plays, Hartmann has a flare for the artistic dark side. Using parts of the current Clybourne Park set, Hartmann plans to make sure that Bratton is readied for its late-night horror event. More than that, the show will be recorded live — including the reactions from the audience (Welles’ style) — and will be re-aired on the Jamestown, N.Y., station WRFA-LP (107.9 FM) and put online after the production.
“There is something, I don’t know why, that is so interesting to watch people tell a story this way,” said Andrew Borba, the CTC associate director who is playing the roles of Alphonse Frankenstein and the old man. “It’s almost pulling back the veil to watch us create an entire world when we’re just standing there.”
Hartmann made sure, however, to keep a lot of Shelley’s gothic, romantic imagery — making certain edits to make the language more audibly friendly and action-oriented — yet just as eerie.
“I want to capture that feeling of the thriller and late-night mystery,” Hartmann said. “I love putting audiences on the edge of their seat in that way. When humans are frightened, our senses are heightened. I like the idea, particularly with this radio play, that when we get the audience on the edge of their seats, they’ll be a bit more attuned to all of their senses.”
In addition to relying on voice and sound, Hartmann is employing the use of Foley art (designed by CTC sound design fellow Justin Schmitz) throughout the production — including creaking doors, footsteps, electrical storms and even a body being torn apart.
Taking a note from Orson Welles’ “War of the Worlds” and his other Mercury Theatre radio plays, Hartmann has a flare for the artistic dark side. Using parts of the current Clybourne Park set, Hartmann plans to make sure that Bratton is readied for its late-night horror event. More than that, the show will be recorded live — including the reactions from the audience (Welles’ style) — and will be re-aired on the Jamestown, N.Y., station WRFA-LP (107.9 FM) and put online after the production.
“There is something, I don’t know why, that is so interesting to watch people tell a story this way,” said Andrew Borba, the CTC associate director who is playing the roles of Alphonse Frankenstein and the old man. “It’s almost pulling back the veil to watch us create an entire world when we’re just standing there.”
Hartmann made sure, however, to keep a lot of Shelley’s gothic, romantic imagery — making certain edits to make the language more audibly friendly and action-oriented — yet just as eerie.
“I want to capture that feeling of the thriller and late-night mystery,” Hartmann said. “I love putting audiences on the edge of their seat in that way. When humans are frightened, our senses are heightened. I like the idea, particularly with this radio play, that when we get the audience on the edge of their seats, they’ll be a bit more attuned to all of their senses.”
"Dark Radio" Revitalizes Foley Art on CTC Stage
By Josh Austin
Various props such as a straw hat, an old pair of eye glasses and hinges act as sound effects for the play Dark Radio in the Bratton Theater.
Justin Schmitz knows peeling off the skin of an orange sounds eerily like tearing away human flesh. Though that may seem gross, it’s just part of the job for a sound designer. Schmitz, the sound design fellow at the Chautauqua Theater Company, has the creative task of using live Foley art in CTC’s New Play Workshop piece, Dark Radio, which has a workshop performance at 4 p.m. today at Bratton Theater. And though an orange simulating harsh torture isn’t part of this play, Schmitz has some other interesting tricks up his sleeve.
Foley art is the use of live props or machines to create everyday sounds, generally enhanced by microphones; a Foley artist is the person who creates the sounds. The art got its start in 1927 at Universal Studios, where artist Jack Donovan Foley was working at the time. While on the sound team for the silent film “Show Boat,” Foley found that sound effects and other ambient noises had to be added to the movie after it was shot.
“[Foley art] is a lot of just finding objects in the prop show and going, ‘What does this do?’ ” Schmitz said. “Then it’s figuring out, ‘What does this do if I add a microphone?’ It’s a matter of being able to be very creative with materials around you and making it sound as if it were real life.”
The art form, still heavily employed in motion pictures, television programs and video games, also became a staple of old-time radio shows. In the 1930s, when radio truly exploded into mainstream American culture, the radio waves were cluttered with sci-fi, mysteries, Western and romance programs, each with their own sound effects. The effects aimed to instill images of the show in the listener’s mind, like a creaky door in a mystery program.
Orson Welles’ War of the Worlds, an iconic radio drama and a big influence of Colin McKenna’s Dark Radio, provides a nostalgic look back at how Foley helped create rather intense drama. The show was aired the night before Halloween in 1939 and caused such a panic that people believed the world was actually coming to an end.
Taking a note from Welles, McKenna’s dark play mixes a hostile sci-fi with a gritty horror genre. His piece echoes old-time radio shows, with the actors portraying the on-air characters while also creating real-life sounds.
“I think this show is going to scare people,” said Jacob Dresch, a conservatory actor who plays 12-year-old Tex in the show. “I feel like Foley is just another extension of that classic radio-centric archetype of War of the Worlds. It’s the perfect extension of what the play’s all about. If you know those old radio shows, this will reverberate in a very interesting way to that vocabulary.”
For Schmitz, Foley art is also about learning the tricks of the trade — like the gruesome orange ruse. The designer taught himself about Foley and about which objects can make which noise; he’s come up with a table of useful noisemakers to aid the show.
“It makes it immediate, visceral,” Dresch said. “You can hear it; it’s in the air waves. … It really is something physical happening.”
To create the sound of a whip crack for horses, Schmitz devised a slapstick, or, simply, two pieces of wood slapping together. To make the sounds of horses traversing across gravel, the designer uses coconut shells. He also needed to create the sound of wind. Instead of having an actor use his or her breath, Schmitz came across a piece of tubing to achieve that noise.
“The Foley will help to establish a style to the piece and overall experience that the audience is meant to be having,” said Arielle Goldman, a conservatory actor who is playing Paige in the show. “But, they’re not just watching something in a proscenium theater — it’s all around you. It also just feeds your imagination, which always needs feeding.”
Goldman, Dresch and Schmitz all said that Foley art is making a comeback in professional theater; new playwrights are using the artistic form to add an additional layer to their shows. Schmitz said that adding the vintage element to a new play really forces the cast and crew to take ownership of achieving the artistic intention of the show, all the while having fun figuring out how to do so.
“It’s allowing your inner child and the world of discovery to be completely open 24/7,” Schmitz said.
Justin Schmitz knows peeling off the skin of an orange sounds eerily like tearing away human flesh. Though that may seem gross, it’s just part of the job for a sound designer. Schmitz, the sound design fellow at the Chautauqua Theater Company, has the creative task of using live Foley art in CTC’s New Play Workshop piece, Dark Radio, which has a workshop performance at 4 p.m. today at Bratton Theater. And though an orange simulating harsh torture isn’t part of this play, Schmitz has some other interesting tricks up his sleeve.
Foley art is the use of live props or machines to create everyday sounds, generally enhanced by microphones; a Foley artist is the person who creates the sounds. The art got its start in 1927 at Universal Studios, where artist Jack Donovan Foley was working at the time. While on the sound team for the silent film “Show Boat,” Foley found that sound effects and other ambient noises had to be added to the movie after it was shot.
“[Foley art] is a lot of just finding objects in the prop show and going, ‘What does this do?’ ” Schmitz said. “Then it’s figuring out, ‘What does this do if I add a microphone?’ It’s a matter of being able to be very creative with materials around you and making it sound as if it were real life.”
The art form, still heavily employed in motion pictures, television programs and video games, also became a staple of old-time radio shows. In the 1930s, when radio truly exploded into mainstream American culture, the radio waves were cluttered with sci-fi, mysteries, Western and romance programs, each with their own sound effects. The effects aimed to instill images of the show in the listener’s mind, like a creaky door in a mystery program.
Orson Welles’ War of the Worlds, an iconic radio drama and a big influence of Colin McKenna’s Dark Radio, provides a nostalgic look back at how Foley helped create rather intense drama. The show was aired the night before Halloween in 1939 and caused such a panic that people believed the world was actually coming to an end.
Taking a note from Welles, McKenna’s dark play mixes a hostile sci-fi with a gritty horror genre. His piece echoes old-time radio shows, with the actors portraying the on-air characters while also creating real-life sounds.
“I think this show is going to scare people,” said Jacob Dresch, a conservatory actor who plays 12-year-old Tex in the show. “I feel like Foley is just another extension of that classic radio-centric archetype of War of the Worlds. It’s the perfect extension of what the play’s all about. If you know those old radio shows, this will reverberate in a very interesting way to that vocabulary.”
For Schmitz, Foley art is also about learning the tricks of the trade — like the gruesome orange ruse. The designer taught himself about Foley and about which objects can make which noise; he’s come up with a table of useful noisemakers to aid the show.
“It makes it immediate, visceral,” Dresch said. “You can hear it; it’s in the air waves. … It really is something physical happening.”
To create the sound of a whip crack for horses, Schmitz devised a slapstick, or, simply, two pieces of wood slapping together. To make the sounds of horses traversing across gravel, the designer uses coconut shells. He also needed to create the sound of wind. Instead of having an actor use his or her breath, Schmitz came across a piece of tubing to achieve that noise.
“The Foley will help to establish a style to the piece and overall experience that the audience is meant to be having,” said Arielle Goldman, a conservatory actor who is playing Paige in the show. “But, they’re not just watching something in a proscenium theater — it’s all around you. It also just feeds your imagination, which always needs feeding.”
Goldman, Dresch and Schmitz all said that Foley art is making a comeback in professional theater; new playwrights are using the artistic form to add an additional layer to their shows. Schmitz said that adding the vintage element to a new play really forces the cast and crew to take ownership of achieving the artistic intention of the show, all the while having fun figuring out how to do so.
“It’s allowing your inner child and the world of discovery to be completely open 24/7,” Schmitz said.
UW-L Senior Has an Ear for Sound Design
By: Terry Rindfleisch
You don't see the work of Justin Schmitz on a theater stage. You hear it. Schmitz, a 22-year-old UW-L senior from Sparta who has designed sound for many shows, is considered one of the top student sound designers in the United States. His latest work is on display in the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse production of "Dracula," which runs through Sunday. He was one of eight national finalists in the sound design contest in the Kennedy Center/ American College Theatre Festival in Washington, D.C. And last month Schmitz had a chance to work with Broadway sound designers at the festival. "It was one of the greatest learning experiences," he said.
Schmitz was judged for his work in UW-L's 2010 production of "Eurydice." He also composed music for the show. While Schmitz did not win the sound design competition, he was offered a fellowship with the Orchard Project in Hunter, N.Y., which performs workshops on new shows getting ready for staging. When he graduates May 14, Schmitz plans to pursue a career in sound design and teach it some day.
"Justin has really grown as a sound designer, and he has learned when to use sound and when not use sound," said Ron Stoffregen, technical director and sound designer for UW-L theater. "He's not afraid to try new things and not afraid to dream big - and he has the tenacity to go after it," he said.
"Dracula" is his biggest challenge, with 700 sound cues and coordinating bat and howling wolf sounds with music, fog and magic tricks, Schmitz said. "It has to be a larger-than-life sound in ‘Dracula,'" he said. "There's ton of effects, and we want it as spooky, haunting and frightening as possible."
Schmitz, a 2006 Sparta High School graduate, said he spends 300 to 400 hours per show on sound design, but "Dracula" required more than 1,000 hours. "Sound design is a creative aspect of theater the audience doesn't think about unless it's bad," Schmitz said. "It should not detract but only enhance the story. "It allows me to ‘perform' on stage because the sound is connected with the action on stage," he said.
Schmitz also has directed three UW-L student productions and acted in four including "Hair" and "Cabaret."
But his heart - and ears - are in sound design. "When you read a script, you have to be able to hear it," he said. "I love the storytelling aspect of sound design."
Schmitz was judged for his work in UW-L's 2010 production of "Eurydice." He also composed music for the show. While Schmitz did not win the sound design competition, he was offered a fellowship with the Orchard Project in Hunter, N.Y., which performs workshops on new shows getting ready for staging. When he graduates May 14, Schmitz plans to pursue a career in sound design and teach it some day.
"Justin has really grown as a sound designer, and he has learned when to use sound and when not use sound," said Ron Stoffregen, technical director and sound designer for UW-L theater. "He's not afraid to try new things and not afraid to dream big - and he has the tenacity to go after it," he said.
"Dracula" is his biggest challenge, with 700 sound cues and coordinating bat and howling wolf sounds with music, fog and magic tricks, Schmitz said. "It has to be a larger-than-life sound in ‘Dracula,'" he said. "There's ton of effects, and we want it as spooky, haunting and frightening as possible."
Schmitz, a 2006 Sparta High School graduate, said he spends 300 to 400 hours per show on sound design, but "Dracula" required more than 1,000 hours. "Sound design is a creative aspect of theater the audience doesn't think about unless it's bad," Schmitz said. "It should not detract but only enhance the story. "It allows me to ‘perform' on stage because the sound is connected with the action on stage," he said.
Schmitz also has directed three UW-L student productions and acted in four including "Hair" and "Cabaret."
But his heart - and ears - are in sound design. "When you read a script, you have to be able to hear it," he said. "I love the storytelling aspect of sound design."
UW-L Theatre Sound Design Student Wins Spot at National Competition
UW-L Campus Spotlight 2011
UW-L theatre sound design student wins spot at national competition Jan. 11, 2011Justin Schmitz, a senior majoring in theatre, has advanced to the national finals of the Kennedy Center/American College Theatre Festival (KC/ACTF) in Washington, D.C. Schmitz’s sound design for the department’s 2010 production of “Eurydice,” by Sarah Ruhl, was selected from 22 sound designs from Region III to be advanced to the national competition.
Schmitz will travel to Washington, D.C., in April to compete at the national level.
The department was well represented at the regional festival, held Jan. 5-9 in Lansing, Mich. The October 2010 production of “The Last Days of Judas Iscariot” was one of eight productions chosen to perform from more than 50 college entries in the four-state region.
“Our students are so dedicated and talented,” said UW-L’s Associate Professor of Theatre Mary Leonard. “They always rise to the occasion.”
UW-L students achieved individual success as well. Lindsay Van Norman, a senior majoring in theatre, advanced to the second round in the Irene Ryan Acting competition. Erica Perrin, stage manager for “The Last Days of Judas Iscariot,” advanced to the final round in the stage management division. Claire Ganshert, Tim McCarren and Amy Nelson received a certificate of merit for ensemble acting for their roles in “Eurydice.”
Faculty members receiving certificates of merit include Joe Anderson for costume design for “The Last Days of Judas Iscariot” and Gary Walth, music director for “Into the Woods.”
“We’re incredibly proud of our students and were thrilled to represent UW-La Crosse at this prestigious competition,” said Anderson, chair of the Theatre Arts Department. “The production was very well received and gained the attention of everyone there. Our reputation in the region was raised exponentially. We greatly appreciate the support from the community, the College of Liberal Studies, and the university, all of which helped us to achieve this success.”
Schmitz will travel to Washington, D.C., in April to compete at the national level.
The department was well represented at the regional festival, held Jan. 5-9 in Lansing, Mich. The October 2010 production of “The Last Days of Judas Iscariot” was one of eight productions chosen to perform from more than 50 college entries in the four-state region.
“Our students are so dedicated and talented,” said UW-L’s Associate Professor of Theatre Mary Leonard. “They always rise to the occasion.”
UW-L students achieved individual success as well. Lindsay Van Norman, a senior majoring in theatre, advanced to the second round in the Irene Ryan Acting competition. Erica Perrin, stage manager for “The Last Days of Judas Iscariot,” advanced to the final round in the stage management division. Claire Ganshert, Tim McCarren and Amy Nelson received a certificate of merit for ensemble acting for their roles in “Eurydice.”
Faculty members receiving certificates of merit include Joe Anderson for costume design for “The Last Days of Judas Iscariot” and Gary Walth, music director for “Into the Woods.”
“We’re incredibly proud of our students and were thrilled to represent UW-La Crosse at this prestigious competition,” said Anderson, chair of the Theatre Arts Department. “The production was very well received and gained the attention of everyone there. Our reputation in the region was raised exponentially. We greatly appreciate the support from the community, the College of Liberal Studies, and the university, all of which helped us to achieve this success.”
Feel Like Krapp? Find Meaning in This Man's Misery
By Terry Rindfleisch
Every year on his birthday, Krapp sits at his desk, with cardboard boxes of reel-to-reel tapes behind him, and records himself talking about his life and experiences from the previous year. On his 69th birthday, he listens to the recording he made as a 39-year-old and then records his impressions as a 69-year-old. He hears how different his thoughts and life are now that he’s an old man.
That’s the setting for Samuel Beckett’s play “Krapp’s Last Tape,” which will be staged by University of Wisconsin-La Crosse students Friday and Saturday in the Frederick Theatre in Morris Hall.
“Krapp’s Last Tape” is a one-act, one-man play about a man trying to find the meaning of life, said Justin Schmitz, a junior from Sparta, who is directing the play. Dylan Zalewski, a senior and veteran UW-L actor who plays Krapp, said he found the script compelling after reading it for a class. “I find it interesting that he records himself and gets mad at himself when he listens to the recording as he rewinds the tape of his life,” Zalewski said.
Schmitz said the small, intimate setting of the Frederick Theatre is perfect for the play because “you feel part of the room.”
At age 69, Krapp is basically a pessimist and a brooding old man, Zalewski said. Krapp calls the world “muckball,” he said. “He fights with himself, and he’s in denial and regretful,” Zalewski said. “He has a dark, grim view of the world but, like us, he must accept the absurdities of life, or let it get the best of him and die miserable.” One of the many conflicts and themes is that Krapp focused more on business than his personal life when he was young, he said. The rhythmical script is difficult and challenging, Schmitz said. And as a director, the play allows Schmitz to delve deeply into a character.
Beckett wrote specific instructions in the script that must be followed, such as the exact moment of a sigh, Zalewski said. “I’ve never done this style of theater before,” Zalewski said, adding that he saw Beckett’s “Endgame,” staged by the Milwaukee Repertory Theatre earlier this year. Beckett also wrote “Waiting for Godot.”
“Krapp’s Last Tape” is a play of reflection and the power of solitude, too, Zalewski said. “In one sense, this play can be frustrating, but you can feel what Krapp is feeling although you may not agree with him. You may question your own life,” he said. The play ventures into the world of absurdism to discover the “intricate nuances and meanings of life,” Schmitz said. “It’s a very thoughtful play, and it will challenge your thoughts,” he said.
About Zalewski and Schmitz
Dylan Zalewski has appeared in many UW-L plays, including “The Diary of Anne Frank,” “Inspecting Carol,” “Arabian Nights” and “A Christmas Carol.” Justin Schmitz directed “Will You Join Me for Dinner?” last year at UW-L and has designed sound for several shows. He will be the sound designer for “A Midsummer’s Night Dream” in December.
That’s the setting for Samuel Beckett’s play “Krapp’s Last Tape,” which will be staged by University of Wisconsin-La Crosse students Friday and Saturday in the Frederick Theatre in Morris Hall.
“Krapp’s Last Tape” is a one-act, one-man play about a man trying to find the meaning of life, said Justin Schmitz, a junior from Sparta, who is directing the play. Dylan Zalewski, a senior and veteran UW-L actor who plays Krapp, said he found the script compelling after reading it for a class. “I find it interesting that he records himself and gets mad at himself when he listens to the recording as he rewinds the tape of his life,” Zalewski said.
Schmitz said the small, intimate setting of the Frederick Theatre is perfect for the play because “you feel part of the room.”
At age 69, Krapp is basically a pessimist and a brooding old man, Zalewski said. Krapp calls the world “muckball,” he said. “He fights with himself, and he’s in denial and regretful,” Zalewski said. “He has a dark, grim view of the world but, like us, he must accept the absurdities of life, or let it get the best of him and die miserable.” One of the many conflicts and themes is that Krapp focused more on business than his personal life when he was young, he said. The rhythmical script is difficult and challenging, Schmitz said. And as a director, the play allows Schmitz to delve deeply into a character.
Beckett wrote specific instructions in the script that must be followed, such as the exact moment of a sigh, Zalewski said. “I’ve never done this style of theater before,” Zalewski said, adding that he saw Beckett’s “Endgame,” staged by the Milwaukee Repertory Theatre earlier this year. Beckett also wrote “Waiting for Godot.”
“Krapp’s Last Tape” is a play of reflection and the power of solitude, too, Zalewski said. “In one sense, this play can be frustrating, but you can feel what Krapp is feeling although you may not agree with him. You may question your own life,” he said. The play ventures into the world of absurdism to discover the “intricate nuances and meanings of life,” Schmitz said. “It’s a very thoughtful play, and it will challenge your thoughts,” he said.
About Zalewski and Schmitz
Dylan Zalewski has appeared in many UW-L plays, including “The Diary of Anne Frank,” “Inspecting Carol,” “Arabian Nights” and “A Christmas Carol.” Justin Schmitz directed “Will You Join Me for Dinner?” last year at UW-L and has designed sound for several shows. He will be the sound designer for “A Midsummer’s Night Dream” in December.