St. Louis Eats and Drinks

Mojada: A Medea in Los Angeles

Is Mojada: A Medea in Los Angeles a dream or a nightmare? Luis Alvarez’ play, directed by Rebecca Martinez, uses Euripides’ classic Greek tragedy as a base for a story about life in Los Angeles barrio (and has been adapted to being localized in New York and Chicago productions). It seems to have some hints of magical realism about it, opening with a ritualistic sort of dance.

Reality, though, immediately follows as we meet Tita (Alma Martinez), who is, among other things, a housekeeper, curandera (a folk healer), functional “auntie” and – a rather shocking word in the contemporary time frame in which this is set – slave. Tita gives us backstory on the household of Jason (Peter Mendoza), Medea (Cheryl Umana) and their son Acan (Cole Sanchez). The family came from Michoacan, Mexico, and crossed illegally. They’re not doing badly – Jason has a job working on apartment buildings, and Medea, to whom Tita has caught cuanderia skills, is a gifted seamstress, although working for very little money out of their apartment.

Medea is a loving mother and partner, although her health seems a little iffy, and we come to realize she’s fragile. She doesn’t want to leave her home, even to go out with Jason and Acan, doesn’t have any friends. Jason, on the other hand, is downright exuberant over the opportunities he’s finding in their new neighborhood and is eager to assimilate, to the point of encouraging Acan to call him Dad and not Papi. The outside world, though, presents itself to Medea first in the form of Josefina (Guadalis Del Carmen), who Tita has met. “Josey”, as she’s been re-named by the hipsters who are gentrifying things, vends her baked goods from a cart but she regards them with a realistic eye; she’d really like to charge them more for her pan dulce than she charges her paisanos who are regular customers.

Jason gets a couple of promotions, and his boss asks him to bring Medea to dinner. That won’t work, but the boss comes to their home, and we realize that the boss is a woman, Armida (Maggie Bofill). Moreover, it turns out that Jason has told bosslady that he and Medea aren’t actually married. It was sort of optional where they were, and we get more details on the circumstances of their departure from Mexico. Amida is the opposite of Medea. She’s shiny, slinky and driven – you can’t be modest and make it in America, she tells Medea, who’s traditional in dress and attitude. Amida has obviously impressed Jason. She turns out to be the monkey wrench we’ve been expecting in the works and the nightmare part begins.

Umana, as Medea, evidences the struggle that her character has with life in this strange place. When she agreed to come to the United States, she was rather a different person, but events have wrung her out. Playing Jason, Mendoza obviously loves Medea but wants more from the new life than she does, and is willing to do quite a bit to achieve success in caring for his family, or so he thinks for a while. The physical relationship between the actors shows the affection and the hesitation of each. Cole Sanchez’s Acan is right on the mark, a warm charmer who’s more than just a body showing off his parents’ individual clothing preferences for him. But it’s Tita, Alma Martinez, that draws me with her strength and her warmth. It’s a fine performance, and her backstory, I daresay, could make for another play.

Mariana Sanchez’ set turns out to be part of the unsettling final minutes of the play, and Maria-Cristina Fuste’s lighting smooths things throughout the show. Carolyn Mazuca takes on the job of designing a seamstress’ clothes and showing both modern and lovely traditional frocks that fascinate. Original music and sound design by David R Molina carry us along.

Plays like this, that originate in very old, traditional stories – Euripides, you know, didn’t come up with these characters on his own; these are from the stories of the Greek gods – don’t really need to be measured against the originals. There surely are similarities here, but this story sets its own standards. My only serious complaint is that the ending, unless you do have some idea of the original story, comes with no foreboding at all, leaving some audience in shock. And there’s nothing wrong with that, even if it’s not the classical tradition.

 

 

Mojada: A Medea in Los Angeles

through February 2

The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis

130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves

repstl.org

 

Fully Committed

Have you noticed the sun’s setting around 4.30 these days? It’s getting colder. Everyone is getting ready for the holidays – or listening to other people complain about getting ready for the holidays. When is it going to snow, and have you forgotten that there seemed to be a hole in one of your boots?

Yes, it’s a discouraging time of year. Instead of thinking about misplaced gloves and hat hair, hie thyself to The New Jewish Theatre and into a seat for Fully Committed. In fact, you may want to buy a ticket online beforehand, because I suspect this lovely little folly will sell like hotcakes.

Fully Committed is a one-man, forty-person show about life at a hothothot New York restaurant. More specifically, it’s about a guy in the basement who answers the phone and takes, or doesn’t take, reservations. Most people never think about those folks until they want to go to the most happening place in town at the height of the dinner hour on Saturday night and find the restaurant is – wait for it – fully committed. (The chef-owner prefers that phrase to “booked up” or “an ice cube’s chance in helll”.)

It’s a wretched job, poorly paid, usually no fringe benefits, dealing with demanding customers and even more demanding bosses. Just the thing, then, for a struggling actor like Sam, juggling schedules with the other reservationist so he can do an audition at Lincoln Center, being nice to big shots, placating the irate, remembering what the current set of rules from the chef-owner is, wondering why the other reservationist hasn’t shown up...it’s just another day in the world of Zagat ratings and Bon Appetit photographers cooling their heels for several hours in the lounge.

Will Bonfiglio is Sam, and all the other characters in the show who phone in. Sam’s been at this a while, and he seems like he’s good at his job, good enough to go from pulling his hair out to being sweet and cheerful to the next caller, maybe Gwyneth Paltrow’s assistant calling with yet another adjustment to the dinner party she wants to have Saturday night, just the right table, the vegan tasting menu and she needs you do something about those lights, they’re sort of harsh.

Bonfiglio doesn’t break a sweat at the frequently breakneck pace of character switches, flying back and forth between voices and faces. He’s just plain terrific. And he’s terrifically funny.

Director Ellie Schwetye keeps things moving and a high clip, just what’s needed. David Blake’s set is almost perfect, the single problem being that it’s just too roomy. I’ve been in those basement rooms, and they’re crowded, cluttered and claustrophobic. Not Blake’s fault; he’s reduced the size of the stage considerably. But other than that, it feels so right, you expect the mop bucket to slosh when Sam picks it up.

A delightful 90 minutes or so of escape from the pressures of life.

 

The New Jewish Theatre

Marvin & Harlene Wool Studio Theatre

Arts & Education Building

Jewish Community Center

2 Millstone Campus Drive

website

A Life in the Theatre

Write what you know. Teachers have been saying that for...centuries? Decades, at least. It may be one reason there are lots of plays about plays, about actors, about authors. St. Louis Actors’ Studio brings us David Mamet’s A Life in the Theatre, about two actors, one considerably more experienced than the other.

William Roth and Ryan Lawson-Maeske are our actors, playing, respectively Robert, the older and John, the relative newcomer. Most of the action takes place in their dressing room, which feels very right, a little shabby and make-do, courtesy of Patrick Huber, who also did the lights. They don’t know each other very well, but there is not much feeling of wanting to move it into a friendship or at least a work variation thereof. It’s more feeling each other out, egos playing games, a fair amount of bravado from Robert along with intermittent spouting of cliches, and John not rocking the boat.

But especially for Mamet, whose work (Glengarry Glen Ross, Oleanna and more) we’ve seen a lot of, there’s not much there there. Roth and Lawson-Maeske do good work with their material, but there’s little to make us care one way or another about these people. We never really get to know them, although some of the fast-change sequences are interesting on their own. Even the music and sound design, from director John Contini doing extra duty, is very well chosen.

But in the end, it’s not enough to overcome the script. This is relatively early Mamet, but not up to what he has shown himself to be capable of.

 

A Life in the Theatre

through December 22

St. Louis Actors’ Studio

The Gaslight Theatre

360 N. Boyle

http://www.gaslighttheater.net/

 

Pride & Prejudice

It is a truth pretty much universally acknowledged that young ones have to be dragged to the classics. I am happy to report that The Rep’s holiday offering of Pride & Prejudice is worth the effort, both for those familiar with the work and those who give the title a blank stare.

Director Hana S. Sharif has gone for approachable rather than reverent and, like all great works (Shakespeare set in the Twenties, anyone?), P&P can take a fair amount of creative interpretation. Here, Sharif ups the tempo and goes for the fun, a nice contrast to the imaginative, seemingly very formal set from Scott Bradley. The projections of Alex Basco Koch during scene changes bring things right into the 21^st Century.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet (Michael James Reed and Michelle Hand) have four daughters and because of the terms of the will by which Mr. Bennet inherited their home, when he dies, the survivors will be evicted. (This is in early 19th-Century England, you understand.) The necessity of finding husbands, and perhaps more importantly, suitable husbands, for the young women is heavy upon Mrs. Bennet’s mind. Mr. Bennet is seemingly less driven, because he enjoys his girls so much.

Novels were longer in those days – attention spans were longer and there were fewer amusements in those days before electric power – so it’s unsurprising that the plot is a little complex by modern standards. Nevertheless, Christopher Baker’s adaptation of the classic Jane Austen novel does well by that. The main character is the second daughter, Elizabeth Bennet (Katie Kleiger), a rather spirited (by the very restrictive standards of the day) young woman who quickly takes a dislike to elder sister Jane (Rebecca Haden)’s new swain’s best friend, Mr. Darcy (Nick Rehberger). We, of course, can see the figurative stardust falling from the sky as they meet, but it’s in a delayed-release capsule. Younger sister Lydia (Sydney Leiser) is swept away by a military company that’s barracked nearby, and eventually with one of their number, a Mr. Wickham (Stephen Michael Spencer), who does a mysteriously fast exit when the aforementioned Mr. Darcy appears. There’s also the heir to the house, Mr. Colllins (Blake Segal), who comes wife-shopping as an act of charity so that he can get a wife and perhaps save one of the girls’ situations there. It would be an act of desperation on any of the girls’ parts; Collins, a Church of England priest, is the very picture of self-satisfaction, a social snob up-sucking to his richest parishioner, Lady Catherine de Bourgh (Lizan Mitchell).

Original music for the show has been composed by Nathan A. Roberts and Charles Coes, with choreography from Ron Todorowsky. The latter is certainly a take on the dance of the time, while the music is often more contemporary, a nice and unexpected update.

There’s excellent ensemble work from all, including some superb adlibbing from Michelle Hand as a sofa collapsed under her during opening night’s first act. Watching Kleiger and Rehberger’s verbal fencing is a pleasure, and if we are going for broader work than Austin’s always admirable sense of irony, we can revel in Segal’s Collins and his revered patroness, Lizan Mitchel.

A good time is had by all. Except, perhaps, by that sofa – which had recovered by the second act, quick work by the professionals backstage. A number of young, perhaps first-time, theater-goers in attendance seemed to have had a good time as well. May their number increase.

 

Pride & Prejudice

through December 29

The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis

130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves

repstl.org

Disenchanted!

How on earth can anyone expect me, of all people, to resist a show with a number called “All I Wanna Do Is Eat”? Stray Dog Theatre’s holiday offering, Disenchanted!, brings us plenty of familiar famous fantasy women. It’s totally off-kilter, to the point where more than one audience member found herself wondering what it would have been like if those fairy tales had been written by the Sisters Grimm.

And that’s the fun of it. It’s not just those bad Grimm boys that take a few whacks here, the Great Mouse of Anaheim gets a fair share of the annoyance, too. “These are not your grandmother’s princesses,” notes the program. Boy, are they right.

Snow White is Kelly Slawson, one of several actors making their Stray Dog debuts. Her background is opera, but it’s clear that she’s got the chops to handle musical comedy. Cinderella’s Sarah Gene Dowling, having a whale of a good time, and the third of the trio that are our primary guides to this zaniness is Sleeping Beauty, Dawn Schmidt. They introduce us to seven other characters we’ve heard of before, even if we don’t know their names, like The Princess Who Kissed the Frog (Selena Steed) and Princess Badroulbadour (Eleanor Humphrey), whose named got changed to Jasmine by the Great Mouse.

The smaller roles gave some fine moments, too. I would like to have heard more from Steed, for instance. Erika Cockerham’s Rapunzel was quite a piece of work, and Pocahontas, courtesy of Gitana Mims, a delight. The Little Mermaid, from Stephanie Merritt, seemed straight from Texas, a great twist – made me think of Molly Ivins, no small compliment.

Even the band, I finally realized, was entirely women. Good stuff and a tip of the black felt hat with ears to SDT and director Justin Been.

Maybe not quite the greatest script, but very funny, quite R-rated, a good contrast to the holly and eggnog-sweet traditional productions this time of year.

 

Disenchanted!

Through December 21

Stray Dog Theatre

2336 Tennessee Ave.

314-865-1995

straydogtheatre.org

Big News

Big news: The Rep is extending the run of "Feeding Beatrice an extra week! Tickets now available through Sunday, November 24 matinee. Tickets available at repstl.org or by calling the box office at 314-9680-5925.

The Women of Lockerbie

There is easy theatre – big happy musicals, carefully drawn comedies, those shows people hear about and decide to go see at some large, well-known place with numerous parking spaces.

And then there’s the other kind. The longer I go to theatre, the more I find myself looking forward to plays I haven’t ever seen. Those are nearly always in smaller venues. At least once a year, Google Maps gets me to a new, usually non-traditional place and group. More often than not, these are rewarding experiences.

Right now, for those who are ready for something new, there’s an absolutely must-see show. From SATE Ensemble Theatre at the end of their current “Season of Ritual”, we have The Women of Lockerbie. If the name sounds vaguely familiar, in 1988, a Pan Am flight traveling from London to New York was blown up in mid-air. All 259 on board died, and so did eleven people on the ground in Lockerbie, Scotland, where the remains of the plane fell to earth.

The play is, quite simply, the most accurate, complete picture of grief I’ve ever seen onstage. I know grief. Grief is a friend, and a colleague, of mine. I was an oncology nurse for many years. I’ve studied it, read about it, written papers on it. I still grieve for my beloved husband seven years later. By coincidence, that happens to be the amount of time between the crash and when this play takes place.

Terrible sadness, yes, of course. And yet, and yet...it’s beautiful. It’s emotionally moving, it’s exceptionally well-acted, and it makes an audience appreciate what they are seeing.

A New Jersey couple, Maddy Livingston (Margeau Baue Steinau) and her husband Bill (David Wassilak) have come to Lockerbie for an anniversary service, their first visit after the death of their son on the plann. Maddie roams the hills above the town, looking for something of her son, his spirit, his bones, because he must be there. Bill tells Olive Allison (Leslie Wobbe), a local woman, that his wife is still deep in her grief, crying near-constantly and inconsolable. He doesn’t know how to help her move on. She is, we can see, almost a wild animal.

Allison is accompanied by three women of the town (Sarajane Alverson, Kim Furlow and Jennifer Theby-Quinn) who add to our information. Director Pamela Reckamp talks about the Greek structure of the play and one certainly can acknowledge the three as, in effect, a Greek chorus. But I was reminded of the witches in Macbeth, talking among themselves to our benefit, not malevolent, but with a higher understanding of events than, say, the Livingstons. (It’s a little disconcerting, though, to hear the women singing music that rather sounds like Catholic mass in the very Presbyterian/Church of Scotland home country of John Knox.)

There’s a time crunch working here. George Jones, a State Department representative from the United States has come to oversee the destruction of the personal belongings of the victims. “They’re contaminated. They have jet fuel and blood and…other things on them. They have to be destroyed. That’s the law.” Jones (Michael Cassidy Flynn) is almost frantic, chasing around after the villagers as he hitches up his pants, trying to get them to give up their proposal to wash the items and return them to the victims’ families. Hattie (Teresa Doggett), a local the Americans have hired to clean the warehouse where all this is kept, has a gift for dumb-like-a-fox when dealing with Jones. She makes a fine addition to the Scottish-Greek chorus when push comes to shoving Jones.

Wassilak’s performance is stunning, and Steinau is right there with him. In addition, the seemingly quiet and controlled Wobbe turns in some fine work. Indeed, the whole ensemble is beautifully cast by director Pamela Reckamp, who gives us a fine evening of very serious theatre.

There is nothing wrong with crying. It’s a show that evokes tears, for the characters and for our own losses. Our Anglo Saxon reserve, whether genetic or learned, shouldn’t keep us from honest emotion, and goodness knows plenty of the audience had wet cheeks after the house lights came up. Catharsis is something those old Greek dramatists understood through and through. We probably need it more these days.

A remarkable, stunning show. Go.

 

The Women of Lockerbie

through November 23

SATE Ensemble Theatre

The Chapel

6238 Alexander Drive

slightlyoff.org

Feeding Beatrice

Our Halloween present from the Rep arrived a day late. Feeding Beatrice opened November 1 in the Studio Theatre, giving us a world premiere from Kirsten Greenidge, the playwright whose work Milk Like Sugar was done by the Black Rep earlier this year. It’s a self-described Gothic tale, although it’s surely the only one of that genre that opens with boffing in the bathtub.

June and Lurie Walker have just bought a large, elderly house ripe for rehab. It’s in a nice neighborhood in a good school district. They’ve had to work hard to accumulate the money for the house. June’s beyond eager to get the place shipshape because they want to make sure the neighbors understand they’re the right sort of people – and because there’s a social worker coming to assess them for adopting a child. Lurie is the financial realist and thinks that they don’t need, for instance, new towels for a bathroom that visitors aren’t apt to visit. The floor, however, in this self-same bathroom with the (aforementioned) large tub, which they’ve moved, does need some repair for broken tiles. Maybe his brother, who’s a plumber, can help with that when he comes to work on the tub’s pipes. But for now, what’s that they’re finding under the loose tiles?

The Walkers are black. She’s a bank manager, formerly a dance teacher, and he works at a television station, doing simultaneous closed caption writing. They’re determined to do better than their hard-working parents and are conscious that there aren’t very many African-Americans in the suburb to which they’ve moved. So when there’s a knock at the door and a young girl who says she’s a neighbor has come to visit, they’re happy to see her. That’s Beatrice, who’s a tad strange, immediately asking for some milk and then talking about watching American Bandstand and how she thinks Dick Clark is dreamy. Somehow, June becomes almost captivated by her. Lurie? A skeptic, a real skeptic. That’s just the beginning of what happens when a white teenager from the Sixties comes into a black household in the right now.

Director Daniel Bryant is making his debut at the Rep, and so is all his cast. Nathan James is Lurie-the-realist, strong and nearly unflappable, a fine performance. June is played by Lorene Chesley, and it’s a role that calls for more than it seems to early in the play; Chesley nails it perfectly. Allison Winn’s Beatrice is nails-on-a-blackboard creepy, just what the playwright must have dreamed of And Lurie’s brother Leroy is Ronald Emile, clearly a charmer.

The tech work here is terrific and plays a major part in the pleasures of the evening. Lawrence E. Moten III’s two level set, Jason Lynch’s lights and David Kelepha Samba’s sound all are remarkable and fit perfectly. Heather Beal’s choreography, from tango to tap, also is a necessity and it’s impossible not to enjoy it.

It’s a fascinating and culturally very relevant story, weakened only a little by a script that might use a little judicious tightening. But overall, great fun, some social nudging, perfect for the early dusk of November.

 

Feeding Beatrice

through November 17

Repertory Theatre St. Louis

Loretto-Hilton Center for the Performing Arts

130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves

repstl.org

The Who's Tommy

I’m not sure just how it was that I never saw The Who’s Tommy until Stray Dog Theatre’s current production. So I came in as a neophyte, especially since I really wasn’t a fan of The Who back in the day. The show is a fantasy that lends itself to lots of variations and interpretations.

In fact, the official versions of it have dissimilarities, from the original double album to the film. the movie and even the earliest productions of it as a live rock opera. So the flexibility is part of the tradition. This is Stray Dog’s second production of it; the earlier one in 2011 was steampunk Goth in style.

There’s a great deal to be said for director Justin Been’s current version, starting with the scenic design of Josh Smith, modern and non-representative, all in white and tones of gray. All the better to show off Tyler Duenow’s lighting, which is quite remarkable, sometimes perfectly psychedelic and other times putting to great use color and smoke, and Been’s own projection design. Music director and keyboardist Jennifer Buchheit and the band are center stage, perfectly appropriate. I send a nod out to the appearance of a French horn in the mix. Its mellowness adds just the right touch to at least one number, and it turns out that in an earlier version, there’s actually a song about a character’s French horn.

It’s early in World War II in England. A young couple fall in love and marry. Captain Walker (Phil Leveling) goes off to war, leaving his bride (Kelly Howe, in her SDT debut) alone and pregnant. Before the child is born, she is told her husband is missing and presumed dead. After the war ends, she’s rebuilding her life with her son Tommy, and being wooed by another man. But her husband is alive and returns to their home to find her in the other man’s arms. A fight ensues in front of the little boy, escalates unexpectedly and the husband kills the boyfriend. “Don’t tell what happened,” they instruct the child, but the husband is arrested, tried and found not guilty. It’s around this time that they realize that the child – who presumably has been developing normally until then – seems to be blind, deaf and mute. They repeatedly have him assessed by various doctors, clinics and, um, alternative therapies, as we’d term them today.

Somewhere in the years of this, while in the care of his none-too-gentle cousin Kevin (Tristan Davis) and his pals at a youth club, Tommy ends up at a pinball machine. For those of us who have had “Pinball Wizard” as an ear worm ever since they started to read about the show – this is when It All Happens. It turns out he’s a whiz at pinball, indeed, a, uh, wizard. (Nobody seems to point out that this means he actually isn’t blind, apparently.) And this changes his life, he becomes a celebrity, a cult figure. At some point, his mother breaks a mirror at their home in her frustration over his still-automaton-like behavior and KA-POW!, he’s cured. This only increases his fame. He leaves home for an independent life. What he does with the fame, what he learns about himself and how he reconciles the two are the conclusion of the show.

Tommy is played by three actors as he ages. The adult Tommy, who also acts as a narrator is Kevin Corpuz, doing a bangup job. The pre-school Tommy is Alora Marguerite Walsby. Alora is, to be sure, adorable, but also manages to keep the expressionless, staring-straight-ahead-face so important to the role. Leo Taghert plays Tommy around age 10, and does a fine job, plus he sounds great. Howe and Leveling hold up their end of things well, and several of the supporting players, like Davis’ skeezy Kevin and Cory Frank as creepy Uncle Ernie stand out.

Most of the color in the show comes from the aforementioned lights and Eileen Engel’s costumes, so it’s no surprise that the pinball machine is mostly glass with a white frame and little fairy lights inside. But it’s difficult to recognize unless one is familiar with the story – or at least that song – and it’s often hidden in a huddle of actors. A few audience members I overheard were confused about the whole thing and couldn’t identify the machine onstage, regardless of how central to the story it is.

There’s no credit given for sound design; Jane Wilson is the audio engineer. One was not blasted out of one’s pew by the sound levels, which was very appreciated. But as the evening went on the chorus’ singing was rather blurred, which may have added to the pinball confusion; it makes the story’s details much harder to grasp. Other than that, the sound was far more than satisfactory.

A very different Tommy, certainly. If a very different sort of pinball machine than those some of us remember is the only thing to kvetch about, on the whole, it’s a very positive experience.

 

The Who’s Tommy

through October 26

Stray Dog Theatre

2336 Tennessee Ave.

314-865-1995

www.straydogtheatre.org

Brighton Beach Memoirs

Even the worst of people are not totally useless, as the wag said, they can always serve as a bad example. It’s true of families, as well, n.b., Neil Simon’s Brighton Beach Memoirs.

Simon’s quasi-autobiographical play is the story of the adolescent Eugene Jerome and his life in Brooklyn in the time just before America entered World War II. Simon has acknowledged that the play is far sunnier than his home life as a youth, but that he deliberately chose to build on what pleasant moments he recalled. That’s fortunate for us because the large household of the extended Jerome family gives us lots of story and plenty of laughs in its current production at the New Jewish Theatre.

The time frame is late in the Depression, and the stress of finances in the blue-collar Jeromes is a key theme in the story. Eugene, or “Euge”, as he’s often called (Jacob Flekier), is about to turn 15, in the throes of typical hormonal storm, and wants to be a New York Yankee or a writer. He’s our narrator through all this, breaking the fourth wall with ease. He shares a bedroom with his older brother Stanley (Spencer Kruse) because his mother’s widowed sister Blanche (Laurie McConnell) and her two daughters have had to move in with the family. Mom Kate (Jane Paradise) runs the house on a shrinking budget and dad Jack (Chuck Brinkley), a garment cutter who works a second job, are stretched thin, both financially and emotionally. The other members of this simmering pot of a household are Laurie (Lydia Mae Foss) and Nora (Summer Baer), Blanche’s daughters, who are, respectively, diagnosed with a heart condition and a fledgling dancer. Everybody has a problem.

Director Alan Knoll gives us a vigorously paced show, things calming down only occasionally as the Jerome house settles in for the night. Flekier’s a good, only slightly gawky adolescent, and the interplay between the brothers is first-rate. Paradise’s strong mother almost never reveals at how close she is to her real wit’s end. As the father, Brinkley is a tired rock of a guy. Widowed sister McConnell tries hard to be strong, but watch her closely to see how fragile she really is.

Pay attention, too, to how much set there is in this black box. Margery and Peter Spack have packed almost an entire house, including two bedrooms with two beds each, into it. It works very well, which means that Michael Sullivan’s lighting design has to be very complex; it’s carried off well.

This story, in other hands, could have been a serious drama. But not with Simon, and we can all relax and have a good time.

 

Brighton Beach Memoirs

through October 27

The New Jewish Theatre

Marvin & Harlene Wool Studio Theatre

Arts & Education Building

Jewish Community Center

2 Millstone Campus Drive

website

 

Equivocation

A fast tip of the cap to West End Players Guild’s Equivocation, which I was able to see only very close to the end of the run – at this writing, there’s one more show, the afternoon of October 6.

It’s a work of speculation, based on what might have happened had Robert Cecil (the second of that name who served the British throne, and progenitor of the prime minister also of the same name), chief minister to King James I, commissioned a play based on Guy Fawkes and the unsuccessful Gunpowder Plot from William “Shagspeare” of the Globe Theatre. It’s not a short play, running close to three hours. But it keeps the audience interested, complicated enough to hold attention and moving quickly enough that the time passes nicely.

Tom Kopp directed the Bill Cain play, and has pulled together a well-tuned group of players, with four of the six playing multiple characters. Shag, as the playwright we’re watching is known, is Roger Erb, easy and comfortable with the weight of such a role. I enjoyed Reginald Pierre as the more-or-less head of the Globe members and as the Jesuit provincial superior who may or may have not been in on the plot. Appearing as Robert Cecil and Nate, another member of the company was John Wolbers, doing fine work.

George Shea gives us a very useful set that comes in quite handy in the second act, and Susan Kopp’s sound design and original music were pleasing.

Hurry – Sunday, tomorrow, curtain is 2 p.m. I’m sorry I couldn’t get there sooner to urge more people to come.

 

Equivocation

through October 6

West End Players Guild

http://westendplayers.org/

Union Avenue Christian Church

(enter from Enright Avenue)

Cry-Baby

At a time when the world around us is, if not in flames, then beginning to emit worrisome odors and was that smoke?, there’s Cry-Baby. New Line Theatre has brought it back after they staged the very first regional production in 2012. It’s a John Waters work from his film of the same name, and if John Waters’ name doesn’t ring a bell, you may recall Hairspray? Yes, that sort of take on mid-century America. And, boy, is it fun.

It’s the eternal battle between the greasers and the squares, no matter the currently fashionable names of either group. Here, returning to Walters’ Baltimore roots, not that he ever seemed to completely leave them, the greasers are referred to as the Drapes. Originally a movie (check the cast list, if you didn’t see the movie), it was turned into a Broadway musical that was sadly short-lived, despite several Tony nominations.

Cry-Baby (the hyphen is silent) is the nickname for Wade Walker, an orphan who’s run from orphanages and foster care homes, but has discovered he likes to sing. He and some friends show up at an anti-polio picnic for their Salk vaccine shots and he meets Allison, also orphaned but being raised by a deeply Establishment grandmother. They’re just kids – he’s a dropout (and you saw that coming, didn’t you?) and she’s in the eleventh grade. This is set in the early Fifties, but even by those standards, they’re pretty young for Serious Romance. But adolescent hormones make romance Serious in any era, especially when Grandmother disapproves...although she occasionally and most uncharacteristically softens slightly.

This all sounds relatively wholesome except for the sideburns and leather jacket. But it’s John Waters, so be assured that it’s not. The songs range from the opening number “The Anti-Polio Picnic” to “Girl, Can I Kiss You with Tongue?”. (And this is before the #MeToo era, very responsible of him to ask.) Scott Miller and Mike Dowdy-Windsor’s direction gives quite a bit more than a generous amount of very wet osculation, making this pretty much a not-for-little kids show, no surprise at New Line.

Grace Langford absolutely tears it up as Allison. She sounds great and is generally one of those performers it’s hard to take your eyes off. Cry-Baby is Caleb Miofsky, making his debut in professional theatre. I’m impressed with how well a senior in high school sings the styles popular when I was in high school, back in – well, never mind, do the math yourself. He’s a perfect fit for the role and the physical relationship between him and the petite Langford reminds one of so many adolescent match-ups. They’re terrific together, and we will, with luck, see more of each of them. (Langford is already signed for two more New Line shows.)

Serious choreography from Michelle Sauer and fine music direction from Nicolas Valdez and Marc Vincent. Colene and Evan Fornachon did the costumes which are not strict period reproductions, but close enough. But please remember that ladies’ slips, whether petticoats or the full net skirts known as “cancans” were not supposed to show. A female stranger might well sidle up to a woman or girl and whisper or hiss, “Your slip’s showing!” and pass on by, secure in the sisterhood and knowing the other female was yanking firmly at her outer garment.

A delightful piece of work, escapism in a very fine form.

 

Cry-Baby

through October 19

New Line Theatre

Marcelle Theater

3310 Samuel Shepard Drive

newlinetheatre.com

The Agitators

The Agitators, currently on the boards from Upstream Theatre, was almost surely named to stir interest and opinion and possibly even prejudice from its potential audiences. It’s a story about the relationship between Frederick Douglass and Susan B. Anthony. Frederick Douglass (?1818-1895), to refresh the memory of anyone who might be unaware after a recent kerfuffle over his timeline, was an escaped slave, almost completely self-educated. He became an outstanding orator and author, and one of the primary voices of the abolitionist movement. Susan B. Anthony (1820-1906) was an ardent abolitionist and a founding mother of women’s suffrage. She met Douglass when he and his family were guests at the her parents’ home just outside Rochester, New York. Her family was Quaker, although their affiliation with various branches and names changed back and forth over the years; she mostly identified herself as a Quaker, a group known for its social awareness.

Both were strong and vocal advocates for the abolition of slavery and Douglass was clear on his insistence on equality for, not just slaves but women as well as men and other then-less-common minority groups. Anthony was becoming increasingly involved in the movement to recognize women as individuals and not just as extensions of their husbands or fathers, and soon was speaking in public about it, often to the displeasure of many members of the public. She was also a vociferous abolitionist and felt the two liberation movements, as they would have been termed a hundred or so years later, were inseparable. She and Douglass became friends. The dialogue in the play is surely not word for word, although much of it is taken from the copious amount of writing and public speaking that was recorded contemporaneously. Nevertheless, this reflection of a deep and frequently pleasurable intellectual relationship is a fine thing to hear and see.

This is some magnificent acting. J. Samuel Davis is at his best in this role which runs from righteousness to tears. If he sounds declamatory much of the time, it was the orating style of the period, and works perfectly well here. Erin Kelley’s strong Anthony is not quite a steamroller, using her brain and her words to marshal her arguments rather than vitriol, and is all the more effective for it. The great argument between them was over the Fifteenth Amendment, giving former slaves the right to vote - at least male slaves. It did not give the right to vote to any women, no matter their color. Douglass was of the opinion that some progress was better than none, a surprising thing from the man who said, “Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground.” He believed that it was necessary to agitate in order to stir the establishment. Anthony was livid that he did not stand up for gender equality – and yet she would not dissociate herself from a suffrage meeting in Atlanta that disinvited women of color and would not allow him to speak at the meeting.

All this talks about the compromise necessary in political accomplishment, and how painful that is. (Thanks, we’ve noticed that in recent years.) The arguments, yea, battles between them are reminiscent of what we still go through. And it’s heartening to realize that progress has been made, slow as it is.

Playwright Mat Smart’s script was probably bound to occasionally sound preachy, given the subject and sources. But it’s also inspiring to be reminded of what the country has gone through and what it’s all about. We have music composed for the show and played by Syrhea Conaway, and it adds considerably to the feeling, as does Patrick Huber’s fascinating, flexible, almost chameleon-like set. Director Lisa Tejero’s done a fine job on this one, a play worth seeing – and thinking about.

 

The Agitators

through October 13

Upstream Theatre

Kranzberg Arts Center

501 N. Grand

314-669-6382

upstreamtheater.org

Whammy!

Young Liars has done it again. Literally. They’ve resurrected their 2010 production of their own work Whammy!, subtitled The Seven Secrets to a Sane Self. If you’re not familiar with Young Liars’ work, it’s performance art, so don’t expect, for instance, a plot line or standard song-and-dance.

Whammy! is, theoretically, based on self-help books, but I think that’s a stretch. It feels to me like a not-completely-metaphorical description of what it’s like when the brain isn’t working correctly. That is to say, when thinking is scrambled or emotions inappropriate for reasons other than (as far as we know right now, except there’s that lithium thing, and so on) physical ones. I deliberately do not use the words “mental illness” – there’s too much baggage with that phrase.

Five of the six (credited) actors seem to be in a therapy group. There’s relatively little dialogue in the show, but quite a lot of choreography and careful blocking. That gives the actors a chance to stretch their physical acting skills, which they do with considerable elan. And despite the seemingly serious “topic” – if it’s not a stretch to call it that, even with quotation marks – it’s impossible for the audience not to start giggling almost immediately.

The key to enjoying this sort of performance is to go in with an open mind and leave the search for meaning and metaphors behind. It should come as no surprise to anyone of a certain age that performance art arose in the mid-60’s to early ‘70’s. Its free-form, almost what-the-hell approach was so characteristic of the edge of Western culture at the time, which is to say, it came out of the Free People, or as they came to be known, hippies. That didn’t used to be a pejorative word. Just sit back and let it flow.

This is probably, on average, the youngest theatre audience in town that isn’t at a high school or college. That’s an exciting, encouraging thing. And Whammy is definitely worth exploring.

But hurry. It closes next weekend (but is working Monday night). No intermission, about 90 minutes.

 

Whammy!

Through October 5, 2019

Young Liars Theatre

Centene Center

3547 Olive

website

Fifty Words

Adam opens a bottle of sparkling wine to mark a night for him and his wife Jan without their 8-year-old son, who’s doing his first sleepover. Jan dutifully takes a tiny, tiny sip and within a few minutes asks for some white wine. A behavioral cue, indeed. Can This Marriage Be Saved, as the old column in Ladies Home Journal was titled? It’s Fifty Minutes, the new show at St. Louis Actors” Studio.

Adam’s an architect, a partner in a firm he founded, and travels a lot. She’s a former dancer who’s trying to create a viable online business, and acknowledges that she’s a perfectionist. He was raised by Oregon hippies, she came out of the country club set in St. Augustine, FL. They live in a Brooklyn brownstone and the kiddo goes to an expensive private school. But it can’t be a perfect life, right, because...because, well, it’s a play.

He’s interested in a romantic evening. Even early on, there’s no missing the fact that she’s uninterested in romance and in him. She’s focused on her laptop work and occasionally reminding of how inadequate a parent she thinks he is. Nevertheless, his interest is not just physical, we learn, but emotional.

Playwright Michael Weller gives us two people who are, at the very least, hard to like. Jan, from the opening moments – viz, the wine episode above – is downright unpleasant. One tries to find in her a good person who’s merely caught up in the stresses of contemporary life, but there’s little evidence of that. Adam isn’t a schlub, but as the play progresses, we see little reason why he stays in the marriage beyond the child. They’re not people in whom an audience becomes emotionally invested.

That said, Julie Layton does a bang-up job as Jan, the Ice Queen trying to melt a little at the occasional moments she deems appropriate while acknowledging at other times how nasty and driven she is. Isaiah Di Lorenzo is Adam, and he conveys the character’s work to calm his wife and make her happy fairly well. Physically, though, he’s stiff – although one never knows if this is a directoral decision by SLAS associate artistic director John Pierson, to indicate how prepared Adam is for the near-inevitable rejection from the constantly angry Jan.

Lights come from Steve Miller and give us the progression through the long night in which the play is set. Andrea Robb’s costumes work well for the income level of these folks. But Adam talks about how Jan is known for her good taste, there are references to how she’s re-done the house, and Jan acknowledges that, yes, people do always say she has exquisite taste. The set really doesn’t reflect that at all.

Pierson keeps them moving well, and the actors give it a fine try. It’s the script that leaves us wanting.

Ninety minutes, no intermission.

 

Fifty Words

through October 6

St. Louis Actors’ Studio

Gaslight Theater

360 N. Boyle

314-458-2978

stlas.org

Angels in America, Part Two: Perestroika

The story woven in Angels in America finishes in Part Two: Perestroika. Part Two is definitely far more understandable if you’ve seen Part One. You can read about it here.

Pryor Walter is still ill, but, as Monty Python sang, not dead yet – I suspect that sort of humor might appeal to Pryor – and so is Roy Cohn. (Cohn, by the way, seems to have not one but two documentaries about him opening soon.) Pryor continues to have visits from the angel, something he’s rather come to accept. Joe and Hannah Pitt have separated and Joe runs into Louis, Pryor’s former lover, in a glade in Central Park. Mother Pitt is volunteering at the Mormon Visitor Center in Times Square, and if the play weren’t already about three hours long, one might wish for a scene displaying her response to that neighborhood. Meredith Baxter’s a whiz with Mother Pitt’s curt lines, throwing them out as sharply as if she were flapping a sheet before hanging it on a clothesline. (The miking of her when she’s wearing a beard, this time as Aleksii Antedilluvianovich Prelapsarianov, the world’s oldest living Bolshevik, is unfortunately still a problem, though.)

Now, too, we wander the foggy world between reality and delusions. Hannah is off to Antarctica where she chews down a tree. Belize, the nurse, loyal and tough and sympathetic, talks about why America isn’t as free as it claims to be. Ethel Rosenberg (whose execution as a Russian spy was a questionable event in which Cohn played a major part) visits Cohn repeatedly as he is dying and says kadish for him after he dies. Joe strips off his very Mormon temple garment as an offering to Louis. It’s all capped off with Pryor wrestling with the angel – yes, literally – as Mother Pitt watches.

The second part is as mesmerizing as the first. It’s not easy theatre, but it’s superb theatre. In a venue like this, to be able to see the actors work from a relatively short distance is an added bonus. If you saw it at the Fox years ago, this is an entirely different experience, and worth the effort if you’re serious about art.

 

Angels in America, Part Two: Perestroika

through October 6

The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis

130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves

repstl.org

A Model for Matisse

In a small town in the hills above the Mediterranean in 1943, the artist Henri Matisse moved to the villa La Reve. Reve translates as “dream”, and it was his way of moving further away from the difficulties of war. He had refused to leave France when war broke out – his son was an art dealer in New York City – but had been living in Nice until this move. The south of France was mostly under the collaborationist Vichy government, but Nice was so close to the Italian boarder, 20 miles or so, that the residents felt, quite correctly, that the Italians would come in to “maintain order”. Late in 1942, they did, and soon thereafter Matisse moved to the villa in the small perched village of Vence.

Matisse’s health was not good. He had had surgery for what we are told was abdominal cancer in 1941, when he was 71. And so begins the story of A Model for Matisse, from The Midnight Company. He hired a young woman as a night nurse, Monique Bourgeois. When he was younger, Matisse was something of a ladies’ man, although nothing on the order of his friend and rival Pablo Picasso. But it appears that age or health or perhaps his conscience, had quenched that thirst. He and Monique developed a friendship. As he recovered, he asked her to model for him, and she did for a while, then went on with her life.

A few years later, she developed tuberculosis. Sent to recover at a Dominican convent in Vence, she discovered her former employer living across the road and they resumed the friendship. But after a while, to the immense dismay of Matisse, she decided to become a nun. Fate, showing an uncommon bit of humor, brought her back to the convent a few years later, after she’d taken vows.

Soeur (Sister) Jacques-Marie, as Monique now was, mentioned in conversation with Matisse that the convent’s chapel was actually a leaky garage. And so a great project was born. He and a monk interested in architecture and recovering at the convent designed a chapel. Matisse set to work creating its appearance both interior and exterior. The result is his masterwork.

There was much furor, both within the convent and in the greater world about the chapel. Matisse, said the mother superior, was not sufficiently moral to create a chapel. The French media implied that the relationship between the two was a romantic one, or had been at some point in the past. But the chapel was built, is still there, and is, I promise you, utterly glorious to visit, a bijou of a place.

This is, we are told, a world premiere of the play, taken from the documentary film of the same name written and directed by Barbara F. Freed. Freed and Joe Hanrahan collaborated on the play’s script. Hanrahan is at his best playing Matisse, sometimes bristly and sometimes with a twinkle in his eye, completely submersing himself in the character. Rachel Hanks is Monique/Soeur Jacques-Marie, innocent in the way that is immersed in the time period and the very religious. It’s clearly a directorial choice from Ellie Schwetye to keep her so controlled most of the time, even relating her clashes with the mother superior with calm, although her re-telling of the interview with the reporter from Paris-Match is quite, quite amusing.

Particular applause to Michael B. Perkins’ video design, which is so important here to show us some of why this is such a beautiful place. Liz Henning created the costume design, particularly relevant in a play about art.

Fascinating and at times breathtaking. And if it’s a consideration, no intermission.

 

A Model for Matisse

through September 21

The Midnight Company

.ZACK Theatre

3224 Locust

metrotix.com

Man of la Mancha

It’s a sign of the times that one of the biggest laughs on opening night of Stages St. LOuis’ Man of la Mancha was the line, “Facts are the enemy of truth”.

The show, a mainstay since its arrival on Broadway, takes a lot of work to seem fresh after appearing so often in both professional and amateur versions. Stages, thanks to the direction of Michael Hamilton, manages that with a great deal of energy.

The story, a play-within-a-play, throws author Miguel de Cervantes into a prison as the Spanish Inquisition is in progress. Most of the other folks populating his new digs are in for more traditional crimes. they’re none too happy that this guy with his polite manners and highflown language has arrived complete with a trunk and a manservant. And in one of mankind’s oldest traditions, he begins to tell them a story – in this case, act out a play – to appease and distract them.

We all know it will be the story of Don Quixote, and before our eyes Cervantes transform himself into the befuddled Quijano, who believes he’s Don Quixote. The ideals of a knightly life, honor, truth, selflessness, motivate him. They’re a source of wonder and a cause for scorn from the denizens of the dungeon as well as the patrons of the inn where most of the subsequent action takes place.

This isn’t a lighthearted comedy, certainly. There’s a rape scene, here fully clothed, but nonetheless very disquieting. And we are, after all, dealing with the horrors of the Inquisition. Nevertheless, there’s a charm about all this, primarily in how the characters are portrayed. Broad comedy is more than appropriate – Sancho Panza is historically a fellow who gets lots of laughs, for instance.

It’s a strong cast. James Patterson moves from the spry Cervantes to the aging Quixote with ease. Amanda Robles absolutely owns Aldonza, the tough tavern wench whom Quixote begs to be his lady. The funny, faithful Panza is courtesy of Patrick John Moran.

Plenty of credit to go around beyond the large cast, many of whom will be familiar to Stages regulars once they peer beyond the headgear of the period. Those costumes range from rags to the robes of the Inquisition are from Brad Musgrove. He gets extra points for the horses, by the way. James Wolkgives us a great set, too, something that could have come out of Hogwarts.

The message of the show is that idealism is a constant struggle. (That explains the laughs at that line.) Man of la Mancha is a good way to encourage your idealism.

 

Man of la Mancha

through October 6

Stages St. Louis

Robert G. Reim Theatre

111 S. Geyer Rd., Kirkwood

314-821-2407

www.stagesstlouis.org

Don't Bother Me, I Can't Cope

Don’t Bother Me, I Can’t Cope opened in 1971, and in some ways is a near-perfect reminder of what life was like. Now The Black Rep has given us a chance to look at the revue again and admire what it does.

Yes, the giddy clothes, the heightened political awareness, the rapidly evolving music scene, all made it an exciting time. It’s all reflected in the vivid work conceived by Vinnette Caroll with music and lyrics by Micki Grant talking about issues both contemporary and timeless. Like all revues, there’s technically not a story line, it’s about the songs and the performers and the messages they carry.

That gives a lot of opportunity for showcasing some first-rate talent, both familiar faces and newcomers. We can start with Antonio Douthit-Boyd’s first appearance with the Black Rep. He’s a dancer – boy, is he a dancer. (In his day job, he’s co-artistic director of dance at COCA.) Absolutely stunning work, especially in his solos. We salute the return to the stage of Drummond Crenshaw, a long-time Black Rep stalwart, who’s always fun to watch, whether hoofing, singing or acting. Not related to him but another new face is Robert Crenshaw, a fine dancer himself. Rounding off the men in the cast are Herman Louis Gordon, Jr., and Keith Tyrone, both very satisfying in their work, especially vocally.

Denise Thimes returns to the Black Rep, to the delight of all. The principal dancer, not that there’s such a title here, for the women is Alison Brandon-Watson, lithe and polished. Tyler White (who’s been with the Black Rep since, what? Middle school?) continues her professional growth, to our benefit. The group also gains from the performances of Sieglinda Fox, Amber Rose and Camille Sharp.

One notable thing about this cast is the diversity of age. It adds to the universality of the experience, that music belongs to all of us, not just the young and lithe. And the feel of the show is nothing short of exuberant, with a certain degree of sensuality thrown in – indeed, at times, one can almost smell the hormones.

Plenty of credit due in other areas, as well. That choreography is from Douthit-Boyd’s husband Kirven. Charles Creath, as usual, is the musical director and leads the other three musicians rocking through the score. Lights are from Joe Clapper and the scenic design is by the Spacks, Margery and Peter. The spirited costumes are from Andre Harrington, and the sound courtesy of Justin Schmitz.

Ron Himes is the director and ringmaster of this fun circus, a light-hearted evening that will make you realize it’s been a long time since anyone commanded you, “Gimme some skin!”

 

Dont’ Bother Me, I Can’t Cope

through September 22

The Black Rep

Edison Theatre, Washington University

theblackrep.org

Angels in America, Part One: The Millennium Approaches

Angels in America came to Broadway in 1993. This year, Hana Sharif, the new artistic director of the Rep, has chosen it to introduce herself to St. Louis. Tony Kushner’s Tony Award- and Pulitzer Prize-winning play is one with with a strong emotional weight to it over the years. But how has it aged? Is its picture of life in the mid-Eighties during the deepest days of the AIDS crisis relevant to us today?

In a word, yes. But it’s not just the pictures of that life that resonate. The messages are timeless and universal. I admit I wasn’t sure when I walked into Millennium Approaches, the first of Angels’ two parts. I took care of one of the very early patients, before the syndrome had even been firmly identified, and I clearly remember standing at Seventh Avenue and Christopher Street in Greenwich Village the winter of ‘86, watching men go by, haggard, pale and weak, the layers on layers of winter wear rattling on their emaciated bodies. But the play is so strongly written that the throwback elements don’t feel dated. More importantly, this is a story that’s almost Shakespearean in its style and universality of themes. Multiple story lines, ghosts, metaphors...and if not quite the glorious language (and who knows how that will look a century hence), then in the midst of the drama and tragedy, a lot of very funny lines.

It’s a stunning production. The audiovisuals, Tim Mackabee’s scenic design, Xavier Pierce’s lighting design, Broken Chord’s music and sound design, Alex Basco Koch’s projection design, are beautifully harmonized to produce real audience immersion in this very solid work. Many thanks to director Tony Speciale for pulling all this together.

The story involves two couples, one gay men, the other a young Mormon couple who’ve moved to New York, the husband taking a job for Roy Cohn’s law office. Now, more than ever, we are interested in Roy Cohn, the man Donald Trump took as one of his role models, at least until it was revealed that he AIDS, whereupon Trump distanced himself. The question of the young Mormon attorney, who’s wrestling with his own questions of morality, being taken on (and in) by Cohn, is one of the focal points. (Cohn, by the way, is the subject of a documentary that’s just being released, reminding us about just how outrageously bad he was. Joseph McCarthy, any one?)

All the actors play multiple roles, but here in Millennium, the focus is on Barrrett Foa’s Prior Walter and his partner, Louis Ironson, Ben Cherry, and the married couple, Harper Pitt, played by Valeri Mudek and Joseph, her husband, the work of Jayson Speters, plus Peter Frechette’s Roy Cohn. They’re all excellent in different ways. Foa/Walter’s strong reaction to his diagnosis and the equally moving pain of Cherry’s Ironson, are compelling. The transplanted Utahns, Mudek and Speters, wrestling with their personal demons are perhaps less dramatic but slowly, increasingly, wrenching as things go on. Frechette, as Cohen, radiates malevolence, sometimes slyly, other times in full-volume rage.

We will see more of the others in Part Two, Perestroika, particularly Meredith Baxter’s mother to Joseph Pitt. Here in Part One, of particular note is David Ryan Smith, playing Belize, the nurse. He’s often played as something of a flouncing flibbertigibbet. Here, he’s still a drag queen, but a large, strong character, and the change benefits the show.

And a tip of the hat (or, more accurately if somewhat dated, of the cap) to whomever made the seemingly minor decision to have the bed rails raised on the hospital bed of the unconscious Prior. A small detail often overlooked, not only a necessary clinical action but it, advertently or not, gives another visual metaphor.

Family questions. Ethics. Loyalty. Strength. Universal themes. It’s a stunning production and the sort of show that people will end up saying, “I wish I could have seen that.” It will live a long time in the memories of the audience.

Part Two, Perestroika opens this coming Friday, September 13. There’s a discount for buying tickets to both at one time, if that’s of significance.

 

Angels in America, Part One: Millennium Approaches

through October 6

The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis

130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves

repstl.org

Shakespeare in Love

It’s all hands on deck for Insight Theatre Company’s production of Shakespeare in Love. The cast of 24 includes many faces familiar to regular theater-goers; I suspect this may have something to do with the actors’ eagerness to try their hand at the adaptation of the 1998 award-winning film of the same name. Their efforts have paid off very well indeed.

The story plays (sorry – inadvertent pun) off the relationship between Shakespeare and Christopher “Kit” Marlowe, his contemporary and fellow writer. There are, of course, arguments about whether Marlowe actually wrote some of the plays attributed to Shakespeare, but the collegial relationship here is an interesting one. Aaron Dodd gives a very fine performance as Shakespeare and Spencer Sickmann charms as Marlowe.

The film’s screenplay was written by Tom Stoppard and Marc Norman, pretty impressive lineage; this is an adaptation of it by Lee Hall. The story line isn’t as complex as the movie, but that’s fine; it allows for a little goofing around and some swordplay, for instance.

In Shakespeare’s time, theatre was disreputable (as were many now-honorable things – like nursing) and women were not, by law, allowed onstage. Indeed, theaters themselves were held to be somewhat off-color, and while women did attend, many upper-crust ladies wore masks, say some sources, to disguise their being at such a democratic entertainment. So when a well-born young lady, Viola de Lesseps, finds she loves the words and work of young Shakespeare and wants to be a player on the stage, she has to don men’s clothing and audition as “Thomas Kent”. Gwendolyn Wotawa brings plenty of passion to her Viola.

It’s never not fun to watch Whit Reichert and Joneal Joplin, above, play off each other – one prime example of the above-mentioned goofing around was Whit working with his hat, including a split second of his doing Gabby Hayes .It was fun watching Carl Overly, Jr., roaring as Sir Robert de Lesseps and Shane Signorino’s preening Ned Alleyn, a leading actor of the day. And we’ve got the bonus of live music from seven musicians, several of which also appear in roles in the show.

Suki Peters directed Shakespeare in Love, pulling it all together with elan and with interesting details. Elizabethan costumes are always fun to look at, and these from Julian King live up to potential; doubtless wardrobe mistress Emma Hersom had her hands full. Chuck Winning did the set, with much moving-about, probably, one suspects, the sort of thing Elizabethan players had to do as well. The sound at Grandel is always tricky, here the work of sound designer Robin Weatherall and engineer James Blanton were better than what is often found in the venue. In addition, a tip from a long-time theater professional was to sit close to the stage. The ticketing here is general admission and it’s easy to do, happily, giving fine results for both visual and auditory details.

It’s a pleasure. Goeth thou.

 

Shakespeare in Love

through September 15

Insight Theatre Company

https://insighttheatrecompany.com/

Grandel Theater

3610 Grandel Square

Antigone: Requiem per Patriarchus

Do you know what a gnu looks like? It’s one of several animals described as “looking like it was made by a committee”.

SATE/ERA’s Antigone: Requiem per Patriarchus escapes that problem, despite being a production of the classic that’s gone through several layers of the creation process. It began as a playwriting project at the Women’s Eastern Reception, Diagnostic and Correctional Center in Vandalia, MO, under the auspies of Lucy Cashion and Rachel Tibbetts working for PPA, Prison Performing Arts. Those results were then taken to a St. Louis University Theatre creative team, where Cashion is an assistant professor, and more work was done. The play was staged there, and then taken back to WERDCC to be performed at that facility by the SLU group. A few months later the Vandalia Women’s Theatre did its own production. And now, more than a year after that, we have the results of that script re-structured by the SATE and ERA groups, including the original script, plus adaptations of the original text by, among others, Bertold Brecht and Anne Carson and for a soupcon of irony, poetry by Dorothy Parker and some transcripted dialogue from the Brett Cavanaugh hearing. It does not resemble a gnu.

Yes, it is something of a mish-mosh. But it works. It’s not a tidy, traditional show – there’s some choreography, a little music, some stand-up comedy and a fair amount of what would be over-the-top acting were it not for the fact that this is a classic Greek tragedy, and if that’s not dramatic, then what on earth would be? Yes, indeed, it works.

It’s an all-female cast, with, as far as I could figure out, all of them playing Antigone at one point or another. The play opens casually, with the cast chatting with audience members. We find they’re inmates discussing how prison is like Hades. From there, things really take off. The pace is often rapid, but at other times, there’s literally (deliberate) slow motion. The ensemble is Taleesha Caturah, Laura Hulsey, Miranda Jagels-Felix, Natasha Toro, Ellie Schwetye and Victoria Thomas. A particular tip of the hat to Schwetye, who has perfected the elbow-angled attitude-filled holding of a cigarette, something she’s used to great effect in other work as well. Marcy Wiegert is our drummer, providing emphasis and background music.

Cashion, who directed the play, did the very impressive scenic design and Erik Kuhn’s lights add to the atmo. Liz Henning did the costumes. But there’s one unfortunate thing about the show. It’s at The Chapel, which just swallows sound. Cashion did the sound design herself, but I’m not sure this is a solvable problem. I’ve sat pretty much everywhere in the room – this is, so to speak, a black box theatre, so stages and seating vary show to show – and dialogue inevitably gets lost. It’s a shame, because there’s some pretty funny stuff in the middle of the terrible tragedy of the story. One side of the audience would be laughing and the other sides might not be. When we can get this worked out, it’ll be great; it’s a beautiful space so fitting for many shows. But Cashion overall has done a masterful job with this on many levels.

It’s not your grandfather’s Antigone, but he would probably still enjoy this, too.

 

Antigone: Requiem per Patriarchus

through August 31

SATE/ERA

The Chapel

6238 Alexander Dr, off Skinker

brownpapertickets.com

Guys and Dolls

If ever there were an example of how a show, particularly a musical, is a jigsaw puzzle, it’s Stray Dog Theatre’s Guys and Dolls. The delicious score by Frank Loesser is a perfect example of American musical comedy, and Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows’ book, inspired by Damon Runyon, is full of funny. It’s great material. So that part of the puzzle – the frame, as it were – is put together firmly.

And the other pieces? Let’s look. First of all, Kevin O’Brien’s Nathan Detroit glistens, not just from the sweat he mops up when his beloved Adelaide, Sara Rae Womack, begins a serious push to end their 14-year engagement with a wedding, for heavens sake. O’Brien is a delight as as Nathan, a character that was meant to be overplayed. O’Brien does so with absolute joy. Womack’s Miss Adelaide is a fine match for Our Man Nathan, she emphasizes the necessary self-restraint when it’s time, leaps into Nathan’s arms with glee and delivers Adelaide’s nasal pitch with aplomb.

The other romantic couple in the show don’t fare as well. Jayde Mitchell is Sky Masterson. His voice is close to perfect for the score, and “My Time of Day” soars. But there’s a palpable lack of warmth in his portrayal of the character from start to finish, both physically and in his speaking voice. Our Sarah Brown, the mission doll, as the gamblers style her, is Angela Bubash. Her Sarah is closer to tough than innocent, one assumes a deliberate choice by director Gary Bell, but it’s striking to hear that in her voice when she sings, “I’ll Know”, for instance. There’s a marked lack of chemistry between these two oddly-matched characters.

As Nicely-Nicely Johnson, Mike Wells, shines. Starting out with the wonderful “Fugue for Tinhorns”, he, along with Cory Frank’s Benny Southstreet and Bryce Miller as Rusty Charlie, pretty much own it. Wells and Frank then proceed to knock it out of the park with a song-and-dance take on the title song.

Big Jule, Zachary Stefaniak, gave a straight-faced delivery of lines that worked very well, although it’s hard to imagine Big Jule following the mission’s honcho, General Cartwright around like a large Great Dane. The Hot Box Girls carry their share of the load well, looking like they were chosen from an early Busby Berkeley musical. The overall ensemble sound, however, when singing together was sometimes plagued with at least one person off-key.

Sound balance was a problem early on, the music from the large but unseen orchestra overwhelming the well-worth-enjoying lyrics, but that, and microphones that blurred the lines, cleared up fairly well in the second act opening night. Josh Smith’s set worked without needing a great deal of adjustment in the course of the show, and Lauren Smith’s costumes were period-appropriate. And isn’t it amazing how many of those awful ties from the post-war years have survived? Tyler Duenow’s lighting was, excuse the phrase, spot on.

Always a fun show, and parts of this version are absolutely delightful. There are just some pieces that don’t fit. It’s your call.

 

Guys and Dolls

through August 21

Stray Dog Theatre

2336 Tennessee Ave.

314-865-1995

www.straydogtheatre.org

Matilda

This may have been the best Muny season in the 25 years I’ve been going regularly. Admittedly, I missed Cinderella and Footloose this year, but overall it’s been a delight, starting with a bang with Guys and Dolls and wrapping up their 101^st season with Matilda, a remarkable evening’s experience.

It beggars journalistic tradition, perhaps, to begin a review to talk about the chorus of a show. But the Muny Kids and Muny Teens who make up the Youth Ensemble were an utter delight in Matilda. The show isn’t one of those syrupy cliches – indeed, it’s altogether fitting and proper to use the word acerbic to describe much of it.

Adapted from the work of Roald Dahl – whose own work was much massaged by his editors to ease his views on, among many other things, females – Matilda is the story about a smart little girl born into a family not unlike the Dursleys of Harry Potter fame. And like Harry, Matilda has a story which takes place in the United Kingdom and involves school.

Mattea Conforti is the poised and self-confident Matilda, a fine portrayal of a strong very young woman. Her father (Josh Grisetti), who sells used cars, and her mother (Ann Harada), who enters dance contests and has no idea she was pregnant with Matilda (her second child) are horrified by Matilda’s (self-taught) reading skills and intellectual curiosity. Her father, who invariably addresses her as “Boy”, has spoken with the headmistress at the school where she’s to begin, warning about his offspring’s unpleasant habit of reading. One can guess the school isn’t prepared for a 5-year-old who’s read Dickens and Austen. The ghastly headmistress, Miss Trunchbull (Beth Malone), shown below, is quite the administrator. She’s offset by the sweet Miss Honey (Laura Michelle Kelly), Matilda’s teacher, who is blown away by her pupil’s ability.

But here I am writing in metaphoric pencil about something that’s done in oils with the vigor and imagination of a Van Gogh. The exaggeration, the jokes, the perpetual struggle of kids against grownups who aren’t what they seem to other grownups. (Who among us as a child was able to stand up to a teacher who falsely accused us of something?) It’s bigger and wilder than life.

And as to actual color – the school set is darkish, but the total usage of the brilliant Mary Engelbreit style in costumes and sets fits right into this world. It’s the perfect spot for her work, which left its early constant sweetness to become an esample of intelligence and social conscience. And humor. Don’t forget the humor, like the babies in the nursery where Matilda is born.

The chorus is amazing, a carefully choreographed (by Beth Crandall) immense mob, illustrating the fantasies the show offers. The size of the Muny stage and the number and talents of the young ones is a combination that could probably only be done here. Revel in it.

The phrase in the program is “inspired by the world of Mary Engelbreit”, but credit also goes to Paige Hathaway’s scenic design, Leon Dobkowski’s costumes, Nathan W. Scheuer’s video designs and the wig designs – wait. Let’s talk about the wigs. Mrs. Wormwood’s was clearly inspired by one of the later kings of France. You can’t miss it. It’s from Kelley Jordan. They’ve all done exactly the right things.

John Tartaglia, who’s acted at the Muny before (his great Hysterium in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum won the St. Louis Theatre Circle award that year) and is known as a puppeteer working in Avenue Q, is making his Muny debut directing here. Let’s keep him.

Not your usual Muny show, perhaps, and certainly not your usual Muny “kid show”. But an absolute joy.

 

Matilda

through August 11

The Muny

Forest Park

www.muny.org

Assisted Living: The Musical

Assisted Living: The Musical, now at the Playhouse At Westport Plaza, is more fun than you might expect. Yes, some of the jokes are tasteless, a few of those qualifying as what I (retired RN) call “nurse humor”. Many more are downright bawdy, but somehow it’s no chore to go with the flow that Rick Compton and Betsy Bennett, authors and performers of the show, create.

It’s about Pelican Roost, a “full-service retirement home” that seems to be in Florida and the eighteen residents they portray. One of the great advantages the show has is maturity – the authors are not kids poking fun at their elders but full-grown adults, even by the criteria of the mythical Pelican Roost. Another is that it acknowledges that sex doesn’t stop at a given age. In any given St. Louis audience, the odds seem good that someone will be bothered by that. Nevertheless, the opening-night crowd, packed with people who would be eligible to move into the Roost, didn’t seem to have any trouble at all with jokes about Cialis, Viagra and related activities. In fact, a medley about Viagra toward the end of the show was an utter delight.

So don’t expect subtlety, with songs like “A Ton-and-a-Half of Cadillac Steel” and “Vernon’s Burnin’ Passion”. Just be prepared to occasionally hear someone singing harmony despite there being only one person onstage, a little disconcerting at first. At the keyboard is Jeremy Franklin Goodman who does a fine job. And a minor note, so to speak, pre-show music is just what the Pelican Roost-ers would choose, early Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, that sort of thing.

If Compton and Bennett aren’t having a great time, they’re surely fine actors. This is a romp from start to finish. It may even take the edge off the fear of growing old.

 

Assisted Living: The Musical

through August 11

The Playhouse at Westport

Westport Plaza

Tickets

Paint Your Wagon

Forget Lee Marvin. And forget Clint Eastwood – in fact, please forget Clint Eastwood. Paint Your Wagon, currently at the Muny, is nowhere near what the 1969 movie version forced upon us. It’s far more dazzling and sounds far more professional.

The show began as a 1951 Lerner and Loewe Broadway musical, before they had done Brigadoon and My Fair Lady. It was, it appears from looking in the rear view mirror, pretty radical for its time, with polyamory a part of the plot. It had a lovely score, the sort of music that was covered by other artists and made Top 40 lists. “They Call the Wind Maria”, for instance, was a big hit for crooner Vaughan Monroe, and appeared on the Kingston Trio’s first album.

But the original script was, in the words of Mike Isaacson, Muny artistic director and executive producer, “an amiable mess”. So around five years ago, The Frederick Loewe Foundation and playwright Jon Marans decided it was time for a rewrite of the book. Some familiar character names are there, and it’s still the Gold Rush in California, but mostly it’s a whole new world with a great (g)old score.

People are heading west to the gold fields, a motley variety, both from various parts of the United States yet to be rent asunder by the Civil War and across various oceans, and of various ethnicities. St. Louis was a major starting point – you can learn more at the Missouri Historical Society, including what they took along to eat – so it figures in the opening scene, as we learn the back stories on several of the characters. (There’s another, silent, tribute to our town in the first scene of Act II.) One of the strong points of the script is that it’s not just a boy, a girl, a song, a tiff, another song, and a happy ending. Slave and owner/brother, widower, a couple of European emigres, and more bring their lives to us. It’s primarily the story of men, logical given the time and reason for their going to California, but it doesn’t absolutely reek of testosterone. Women are fulcrums of many of the stories, even though they’re outnumbered in speaking lines and time onstage.

Matt Bogart plays Ben Rumson, the aforementioned widower around whom the story increasingly revolves. His chemistry with Mamie Parris, who’s married to another man, is palpable, even as he mourns his late wife.

Another good pairing, albeit not a romance is Allan K. Washington as Wesley, the slave, and Rodney Hicks playing H. Ford, a free black man.

Bogart, as Ben, has three of the big songs, the aforementioned “They Call The Wind Maria”, as well as “Wand’rin Star” and “I Still See Elisa”. It’s a perfect role for his big, agile voice. The fourth well-known song, “I Talk To The Trees”, belongs to Maya Keleher as Ben’s daughter and Omar Lopez-Cepero, his business partner, as part of their seemingly star-crossed romance.

Jon Marans, who gave us Old Wicked Songs, is credited with the new book, and he’s generally done a good job with it – while some outcomes seem foreshadowed, there’s still a tension. Josh Rhodes not only directed this production, he did the choreography, which certainly shows some homage to Agnes de Mille’s work on the original show. Michael Schweikardt’s scenic design worked well, especially when it, presumably by accident, blended in with the fading sun in the west. Costumes? At first one is thinking, “Oh, another dusty-colored group.” but Amy Clark’s work erupts in Technicolor when the dancing girls arrive, so brilliant one almost expects a black light scene.

There’s no question that the polyamory has been removed but there’s a great deal of modernity added in this take on the story. Politically correct? Yes, just like equality is.

Fabulous, occasionally flashy and extremely satisfying work from all concerned at the Muny.

 

Paint Your Wagon

through August 2

The Muny

Forest Park

www.muny.org

 

1776

Before there was Hamilton, there was 1776. Who’d have thought a musical about how the Declaration of Independence might work?

That was Sherman Edwards, who worked his way through NYU as a jazz pianist. There were a few years of teaching high school history while he pulled together his career as a backup musician and composer, at which he was moderately successful. If you’re of a certain age, you will remember Johnny Mathis singing “Wonderful, Wonderful” - that was Edwards’ work. He’d wanted to do the show but hadn’t gotten far with it; it was the Sixties, and people were thinking about other things. Finally, playwright Peter Stone re-thought his initial refusal of Edwards’ suggestion. The two went to work and it opened in 1969. It turned out to be just the thing for a time of political turmoil.

So here we are today at the Muny, opening 1776 on the night of the second half of the first Democratic presidential debate. Could we all please just look at what these guys in Philadelphia – white and male and financially comfortable as they were – were going through?

Our leading man, leading the way as well as the cast, is John Adams (Robert Petkoff). Adams believes that the Continental Congress has dithered too long, and they need to take a stand. He’s made his feelings eminently clear – Adams is nothing if not a high verbal – and the opening number is “Sit Down, John,” with his peers instructing him to cool it. That’s not easy for him to do under any circumstances, and the show makes good use of the well-documented fact that it was very hot in Philadelphia, like St. Louis a city of brick buildings, as they worked things out. (And then you think about the clothing – shirts, vests, jackets, breeches coming only to the knee but stockings commencing immediately therebelow. Hot or what?)

George Washington, often heard from but never seen here, was commanding the ragtag Continental Army, created after the battles of Lexington and Cord the previous spring. It wasn’t going well. Dispirited communications arrive frequently, increasing the sense of urgency for some delegates and fear in others. This pulling off from the mother country was by no means a commonly accepted idea in the group. One argument was that it was impossible to pull off, no one had done it before, and it was disrespectful. Another, perhaps more visceral, and one that runs through the discussion is financial. For some of the delegates it was all about the money. It would imperil their usually considerable personal net worth. One might say it was all about the Benjamins if it were not for the fact that Benjamin Franklin (Adam Heller) himself was a delegate and ally of John Adams in the move to independence. Focusing on money rather than the big picture, too, sounds rather familiar.

The two other Pennsylvania delegates are among the reluctant, as are the New Yorkers and the Southerners. It’s the New Englanders that are all in – they’ve got British troops tromping through their village greens. But that quiet fellow stage left who spends much of his time reading turns out to be Thomas Jefferson (Keith Hines), as eloquent as we’d expect, but wanting to go home to his farm and his wife (Ali Ewoldt). John Adams’ dialogue with his wife Abigail (Jenny Powers), outlines much of Adams’ thinking, although she’s 300 miles away. (The letters have, thankfully, been preserved.)

The show is close to historically accurate, and that means there’s a lot of necessary exposition. Never mind that; the score is an absolute pleasure, especially the loving duets between the Adamses. It’s worth nothing that this is the only Broadway show in which the musicians’ contract allow them to leave the pit during the show, because at one point in the first act there’s about half an hour between songs.

Rob Ruggiero directed, helping show us how human these men, and women, were, letting the humor as well as the tempers show through. Luke Cantarella’s lovely version of the Assembly Room in Independence Hall pleases the eye. Despite the whole world knowing how it all turned out, the play manages to keep us engaged, even a little tense.

An emotional, satisfying, stirring evening. The bravery of the men who pledged “our Lives, our Fortunes and our Sacred Honor” not knowing how it was going to turn out still carries an emotional impact.

 

1776

through July 3

The Muny

Forest Park

www.muny.org

Indecent

Indecent is a beautiful, heavy-going drama. Paula Vogel’s play, she of How I Learned to Drive and The Baltimore Waltz, among other works, tackles censorship, homophobia and antisemitism in an utterly seductive manner. It’s themes are serious-to-downright-grim, but it’s mesmerizing. The Max and Louie production of it at the Grandel gives it all they’ve got and does it proud.

It’s based on real events in the life of Sholem Asch, a Polish writer. His 1906 play The God of Vengeance was performed with considerable success all over Europe, and then came to the United States. And therein lies the rub. The play was about a Jewish man who ran a brothel and whose daughter became involved in an affair with one of his prostitutes. In his anger, he throws the Torah to the ground. Not only sexual scandal, but blasphemy as well – but the play continued to be performed even during World War I. From the inception, though, the play included an onstage kiss between the two women. In 1922, an English translation was created and it opened at the Provincetown Playhouse and subsequently in Yiddish, the play’s original language, at what we’d now call off-Broadway. In early 1923, it moved to a Broadway house, in English, with a story line somewhat altered. Within a few weeks the entire cast and the New York producer were all arrested for obscenity. They were convicted, although that was overturned on appeal, and the play’s lifespan did not end.

Indecent is about both Sholem Asch and the play, using a cast of seven, plus three on-stage musicians. Lemml, the stage manager, is a warm and utterly charming TJ Lancaster. He leads us through much of the action. The rest of the actors are multiple characters – here I’m identifying them mostly by their primary role. Paul Cereghino plays Avram for much of the play, a man who believes in beauty and art and a realistic portrayal of Jews in theater. The aging Asch is John Flak, but most of his time is spent playing the actor who’s the father running the brothel, and he’s particularly notable as that, throwing down the Torah to illustrate his anger. His daughter, Zoe Farmingdale, and Katie Karel as the girl downstairs, are wonderfully tender in their roles. Judi Mann is the mother, almost tearing her hair out at the scandal of it all, and Tim Schall is notable in several roles, including the Broadway producer.

Joanne Gordon directs this tightly-paced show with all its emotions. Besides the impact of the words and the sound of the band with its klezmer music, there’s also an immense visual contribution. Dunsi Dai’s set and Patrick Huber’s complicated lighting are as much a part of things as the words and music. It’s a surprisingly gorgeous setup, even with the quiet clothing of the eras, courtesy of Teresa Doggett. (Although there is that one costume for John Flack….)

Not easy. Really worthwhile.

 

Indecent

through June 30

Grandel Theatre

3610 Grandel Square

https://maxandlouie.com/

Kinky Boots

It's definitely a sign of how this town has changed when a big crowd at the Muny is roaring at the jokes in Kinky Boots. The folks who would have been horrified at La Cage aux Folles when it played at the Muny in 1986 certainly were nowhere to be found at this musical comedy, which began as a British film based on a true story, about drag queens and the factories who shoe them. 

Of course it's funny – the words come from the delightfully wicked Harvey Fierstein, who never misses a chance to take a sharp stick to the eye of masculine stereotypes, one of his pet targets. The music is from singer-songwriter Cyndi Lauper, her only Broadway show to date, which won her a Tony for best original score. (She's the only woman to win the award solo.)

The shoe factory that Charles Price's family has run for four generations is in financial peril. Well-made but otherwise unremarkable footwear for men isn't making anything but returns to the stock room, and Charles, who seems only vaguely aware of that, is determined to get out of the Midlands of England and live in London with his fiancee. Just after they arrive, Charlie's dad dies and he's forced to come home and face the returns and the payroll. 

One night he comes across a couple of yobs attacking a rather tall woman. He steps in to protect her and ends up getting knocked cold. When he comes to, he's in the dressing room of a nightclub; he's protected the honor of the headliner, it turns out. And she is a he. Lola is, she explains firmly to Charlie, a drag queen, not a transvestite. As she takes off her high-heeled boots, Charlie remarks that they're cheap. No, says Lola, they're expensive, they're just cheaply made. And eventually, Charlie, thanks to Lauren, one of his employees, finally realizes that this might be a niche market that will enable the factory to remain open. If they can just get some made in time for the Milan fashion week, which is coming up very soon..…

Some reflection on father-son relationships, more on gender roles, and a lot on downright stereotyping, but it all works well together. Graham Scott Fleming gives us a stold-but-not-stolid Charlie, becoming increasingly frantic as the stressors magnify. Lola’s song “The Sex Is in the Heel” takes the joint apart in J. Harrison Ghee ’s rendition; he’s great all around, including containing himself when Charlie erupts in judgmental ire. And our own Taylor Louderman returns from her current Broadway gig in Mean Girls, taking a week off to come back to the stage where it all began, as she plays Lauren, the worker who acknowledges she’s pretty gaga over her boss.

DB Barnes is credited with “re-creating” the direction of the show after the original from Jerry Mitchell on Broadway. Mitchell also did the original choreography, where is here re-created by Rusty Mowery. Not surprisingly, Kinky Boots is heavy on the dancing, given the nightclub references, including Lola’s backup team, the Angels and it’s right on target, making fine use of Lauper’s fun score. But what about the costumes? I hear you saying. Are they fabulous? They certainly are in the house that Lola is in; the folks in the factory are equally appropriate if considerably less revealing and more demure in color, all courtesy of Gregg Barnes.

What a romp this is! Guaranteed to loosen inhibitions!

 

Kinky Boots

through June 25

The Muny

Forest Park

www.muny.org

Fire Shut Up in My Bones

One the (many) things Opera Theatre of St. Louis is doing right is bringing in new work. This year’s showpiece is the second one commissioned from Terence Blanchard after his success with Champion. That premiered here in 2013 and has gone on to acclaim elsewhere. Fire Shut Up in My Bones is based on the memoir by Charles M. Blow, NewYork Times op-ed columnist and former graphics director and art director there. Blanchard asked the multi-talented Kasi Lemmons, perhaps best known for her films, with whom he’s collaborated before, to do the libretto.

The result is a stunning story, and music that lures the listener in. Like good jazz, it’s a patchwork quilt, a combination of ideas carefully put together to create a harmonious whole that hasn’t been done exactly this way before. Experiencing new things must surely be good for the brain, giving it exercise and making new neural pathways; here’s a chance to engage the eye, the ear and the soul simultaneously.

Charles Blow’s story of his childhood and entrance into the adult world is sometimes lovely and sometimes dreadful. His sexual abuse at the hands of a cousin and the consequences thereof are at the heart of the story. The youngest of five boys, he has a strong mother determined to take care of them despite a carousing husband, a menial job, and an extended family that seems, with the exception of the despicable cousin Chester, supportive. Charles is sung by Davone Tines, who sounds marvelous. His younger self, known as Char’es Baby, is Jeremy Denis. Not only does he play an important part in the show and carry it off with charm, he has a delightful voice and holds his own with the older members of the cast.

It’s a show with strong women’s roles, and Karen Slack, as Billie, Charles’ mother, gives us a beautifully drawn, very human wife and mother whose hands are full with her rat of a husband and five little boys. Her voice is warm and full and extremely satisfying. The wondrous Julia Bullock returns to St. Louis to sing Destiny/Loneliness and Greta, enchanting and almost frightening at the same time in her roles.

One cannot use an adjective like “tasteful” to describe the actions that are the focus here, but it’s staged in a way that is mesmerizing but not graphic at all. Stage director James Robinson has things tightly in hand at all times, using Allen Moyer’s often dreamlike set perfectly.

The jazz-style combo in the pit is just right. It includes the celebrated St. Louis pianist Peter Martin, just to put on a final fillip.

It’s a remarkable piece of work. Charles’ mother’s advice to her son – in many things, not just this – is “You’ve got to leave it in the road. Let it go, move on.” Not everyone is able to do that. But Charles Blow has been able to and it’s our good fortune that his strength has helped give us this work.

 

Fire Shut Up in My Bones

through June 29

Opera Theatre of St. Louis

Loretto-Hilton Center

130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves

314-961-0644

opera-stl.org