Things come in cycles sometimes, don’t they? I’ve found myself in the midst of one that involves people from the past coming together again and resolving, at least, halfway, their questions. It’s been all around me. First-person stories in the New York Times, tales from people I know, episodes in literature, even in my personal life – and now at St. Louis Actors’ Studio, Annapurna.
Written by Sharr White, Annapurna is about two people well into middle age who were once married to each other. There is no “meet cute” about it. Emma shows up, extremely unannounced, at the – well, to call it a mobile home would be to give the trailer a dignity it may never have possessed – where Ulysses now lives. It does have a marvelous view. He’s in Colorado’s intermountain territory, the magnificence of the Rockies just outside his hamlet.
There’s been no contact between them for the two decades since Emma left in the middle of the night, taking their 5-year-old son with her. He doesn’t remember why she left. But there are other things he doesn’t remember, too. He drank, a lot. And when he quit drinking, he took up smoking, which explains why he has an oxygen concentrator backpack on.
Why is she there? How many secrets are they keeping? The carefully drawn dialogue between the two is nothing short of exquisite. Forty minutes in, I found myself thinking, “This is just a beautiful little play.” And it is. Even when the tempo changes and the audience may sense what’s coming, it’s magnetic.
Laurie McConnell is Emma, trying hard to be civil. She’s more successful at that than she is in understanding exactly why she’s come to see Ulysses. Mainly, at first, it seems to be to find out if he really doesn’t remember what happened the night she left. But there’s other, hidden things, that drive her from where she has been to right here right now. It’s a lot of condensed emotion, sometimes creeping quietly into McConnell’s face and her body language until even she erupts.
Ulysses, former college professor, published writer, and recently discharged hospital patient, is John Pierson. Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (said the retired nurse) is hard to carry off onstage, but he does a pretty good job of it, and he hits it out of the park on the rest of Ulysses. Of course, considering his vocation, he’s glib, which means he has the advantage of many of the funniest lines, but well beyond that, this is a fine, fine performance.
Annamaria Pileggi orchestrated these two professionals wonderfully resulting in a surprisingly delicate creation, which showcases them and the script’s slowly growing cobweb. Patrick Huber is responsible for the dilapidated set, and Steven J. Miller the light design.
A remarkable ninety minutes or so of theatre. Very worthwhile.
Annapurna
through March 1, 2020
St. Louis Actors’ Studio
Gaslight Theater
360 N. Boyle
314-458-2978
Nelson T. Eusebio III’s production of The Mystery of Irma Vep – A Penny Dreadful at the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis gives us a comedy so broad the Veiled Prophet could steer his entire float, queens and all, through it. Irma, the brainchild of the late Charles Ludlam, was never meant to be subtle, of course. Ludlam one of the early creators of what came to be known as theater of the ridiculous, certainly never was himself.
It’s a mish-mosh of camp, Gothic horror, multliple references both broad and subtle to various works of literature, cross-dressing jokes and stereotypes. That’s a lot to put into one show. The script sags under the weight of it all. Particularly in the first act, holes appear.
Valiant efforts from Esteban Andres Cruz and Tommy Everett Russell, the two actors who portray eight characters, and who give it their all. Scenery-chewing is a given, with this script, so you can’t fault them for doing so at appropriate times. There’s tremendous energy from each of them as they roar through their various roles. They also carried off with great elan a glitch in the set on opening night.
The other star in a show like this has to be the costume designer, here Sara Ryung Clement. She shines, especially for Lady Enid, giving wonderfully tawdry work that clearly rips off and zips (or Velcros) on in the flash of a hat. One costume in particular for Russell, with its pointy cups, seemed to be direct from Frederick’s of Cairo.
The set from Michael Locher, equally flamboyant, looks good to most of the audience. But about a quarter of play-goers are unable to see the portrait of the late Lady Irma, and another quarter unable to see into a sarcophagus. Both items are sources of jokes and activity, and it’s our loss.
The script is one of those that created isolated laughter in various parts of the audience, a sure sign of obscure jokes. That’s no sin, but Not Getting It makes audiences restless. Plenty of physical comedy, some of it bawdy, partly helps to remedy that. There’s an unverifiable statement dancing around the internet that this was the most-performed play in the United States in 1991, but one is surprised, given the weakness of the script.
Rowdy. Energetic. Illogical, of course. But if you want to remember what voguing looked like, this is probably your only chance this year.
The Mystery of Irma Vep – A Penny Dreadful
through March 8
Mainstage
The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis
130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves
If there’s anyone around who doubts the level of our local talent, here’s – another – fine example. Debbie Lennon gives us a one-woman show, Songs for Nobodies, and pretty much knocks it out of the park.
The show’s premise is that five great women singers are shown via their encounters with ordinary women. The show was written by Joanna Murray-Smith. It’s a good look at the human side of idols, and a real workout for Lennon who plays all ten characters in settings that go all the way from Kansas City to a yacht on the Mediterranean.
Beatrice Ethel Appleton opens the show. She’s the powder room attendant at the Plaza Athenee Hotel in New York when Judy Garland arrives with her hem slightly ripped. And so we’re off, meeting along the way, an usher, a librarian, a cub reporter and a nanny, all in individual vignettes Those women lead us into Patsy Cline, Edith Piaf, Billie Holiday and Maria Callas. (It may affect the way you view photos of Aristotle Onassis for the foreseeable future, by the way.)
Lennon is remarkable, switching characters and accents. And she sounds fabulous. Nicholas Valdez, on piano, is the music director, with, on the night I was there, Blake Mickens on bass and Keith Bowman on percussion. They surely add to the fun. Dunsi Dai’s scenery, including some wonderful black and white photographs, set the mood well, as does Tony Anselmo’s lighting.
Dazzling work from Lennon, and lots of bang for the audience’s buck in this 90-minute, no-intermission little jewel from Max & Louie Productions that’s in the black box at the Kranzberg Arts Center.
Songs for Nobodies
through February 2
Max & Louie Productions
Kranzberg Arts Center
North Grand & Olive
In a world that’s grown increasingly uptight, there’s little that’s as edgy-funny as universal offensiveness. That’s what the Rep Studio’s version of Larissa FastHorse’s The Thanksgiving Play brings us. Amelia Acosta Powell, the Rep’s associate artistic director directs this story of How Not To Do It.
FastHorse, who is from the Sicangu Lakota Nation of Native Americans, loves Thanksgiving. But, she says, she’s really tired of how history is so often wrong, being written by the winners, and how strongly people cling to the errors despite information to the contrary. Her attempt to set things straight on the subject of Thanksgiving, rather than a this-is-what-really-happened line, is a comedy to remind us to think more about the real story of Thanksgiving, and, by inference, a lot of other things.
Thanksgiving plays were, and probably still are, a staple of childhood education in many places. Of necessity with kids, it’s boiled down to what (we think are) basic elements. The Thanksgiving Play sets us up with a high school drama teacher, Logan (Shayna Blass) trying to create a modern and more accurate version with her sort-of-significant-other Jaxton (Adam Flores), and a history teacher named Caden (Jonathan Spivey). Because she’s gotten a grant to help fund this, she’s also hired Alicia, a Native American actress to come in from Los Angeles (Ani Djirdjirian) and work with them so they can create a politically correct play.
Logan’s extreeeeeemly concerned about correct portrayals, hurt feelings, a higher level of consciousness – and keeping the school board happy. Being high-strung to begin with, this is all very stressful. Jaxton, who explains he’s a professional actor because he works at the local farmers market performing on the subject of recycling, is all in on this and the improv-style brainstorming Logan insists on. Caden, the history teacher and unpublished playwright, comes in with a written script that begins 4,000 years ago.
And then there’s Alicia. So Hollywood, so lovely, so un-woke – and so not Native American.
The fast-moving satire is punctuated by entre-acte bits depicting possible children’s plays about Thanksgiving and quotes from real teachers’ lesson plans and Pinterest boards. Reality, as usual, can be as funny as anything authors can create.
It’s a wonderful acting ensemble. As the sincere-but-fragile drama teacher, it seems Blass’ head may blow apart at times. Flores’ wide-eyed Jaxton follows his own logic down rabbit holes that dead end. Jonathan Spivey is less driven by correctness but more by his love of history and his perpetually thwarted efforts to see his own work performed – his thrill at hearing actors use his lines is touching.
Ani Djirdjirian, though, almost steals the show as the not-Native American whose looks let her audition for many so-called ethnic parts. (Logan hired her from her photograph.) The annoyance at this discovery lets us gradually discover Alicia isn’t quite as Betty Boop-y as she seems. When challenged on inauthentic casting, she says, having worked at a Disney park, “After all, Lumiere isn’t really a candlestick!” Alicia is just as over the top as Logan; Djirdjirian is utterly irresistible with the eye-rolls, the flouncing and the much-vaunted hair flip.
For those who disdain political correctness, there’s obvious delight here. But for those who understand it, we quickly see just how goofy extremes are. And that’s the point. In addition, we’d point out that theater is often at its funniest when it looks at itself. There’s considerable poking of fun there as well – where else do you hear a joke about dramaturgs?
Great fun, considerable laughter, and ninety minutes with no intermission.
The Thanksgiving Play
through February 9
Studio Theatre
The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis
130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves
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
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
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/
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 21st 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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