St. Louis Eats and Drinks

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

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

The Coronation of Poppea

Is it really a love affair or a case of two power-mad people connecting? The Coronation of Poppea tells the story of the emperor Nero’s second wife, a sort of How To Succeed at Empressing Without Really Trying. We meet them onstage at Opera Theatre of St. Louis while Nerone, as he’s called in the opera, is still married to Octavia, although it’s going hot and heavy with Poppea, which is vividly shown. Bryan Miller in the Post-Dispatch explained that the show “was not for kiddies”; trust her on that, although there is no significant nudity. It’s hard to tell if Poppea is crazy for him or for the power that becoming empress would bring, but the reasons are hardly relevant.

More interesting is the behavior of Nerone to get what he wants. He cares nothing, he acknowledges, about the opinion of the people or of the senate. If he wants something, he will issue an edict to make it happen, consequences be damned. The philosopher Seneca, his counselor, (and, from historical background, his fixer) tells truth to power when he explains the possible consequences of ditching Octavia. Nerone sends one of his security guys to tell Seneca to kill himself. A charmer, that Nerone. There is – of course – a former lover of Poppea (who at this point, in real life, had already been married twice), Ottone, whom she’s spurned for Mr. Big. Octavia’s lady-in-waiting Drucilla, is crazy for Ottone, but he’s still pining for treacherous Poppea. This can only end disastrously, and the opera is sometimes described as one of the most bloodthirsty.

OTSL’s staging is certainly visually lovely, more handsome to the modern opera-goer, perhaps than the 1642 Monteverdi score. First of all, if you’re one of those people who never thought about lighting onstage, this show should bring you to your senses. It’s a remarkable example of what lighting does to a show. Hats off to Christopher Akerlind for his work there.

Hannah Clark’s aqua-blue tiled set with a ladder akin to a swimming pool’s, a barn door and what seems to be a large in-wall refrigerator give us metaphors. Clark also did the costumes, which put things into a more modern setting, although the women range from something Lady Bird Johnson might have worn to preside over a meeting of senate wives to a slinky black dress that brought to mind a sommelier in a high-end New York restaurant. Not incongruous, just interesting, you understand.

Brenton Ryan is a wonderfully controlled madman Nero. Poppea is played by Emily Fons, swooping and steaming and singing beautifully. Of the supporting cast, David Pittsinger’s Seneca (shown below) was perhaps my favorite, impressive in many ways.

The 8-person orchestra is onstage, quite fun, including some uncommon instruments like a lirone and two theorbos. Nicholas Kok conducts from one of the two harpsichords.

Stage direction is by Tim Albery, and a fine job that is, not just because there are more steps taken on a tabletop than surely ever before at OTSL. It’s a new way to add height to a staging, and it certainly works. He also manages to rein in the gory aspects to a fair degree without losing their impact.

Not your usual opera, despite its survival for centuries, but worthy for a number of reasons.

 

The Coronation of Poppea

through June 28

Opera Theatre of St. Louis

Loretto-Hilton Center

130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves

314-961-0644

opera-stl.org

Guys and Dolls

Let’s cut to the chase here.

Guys and Dolls, which has opened the Muny’s 101^st season, is nothing short of splendid. Yes, the new stage is marvelous, including the orchestra pit, which has elevators in it. (You’ll see.) But the show, a perennial for many reasons, in this version is a peak American musical theatre experience.

Based on the wonderful Damon Runyon short stories of New York City’s underworld in the Twenties and Thirties, and moved in time to the late Forties, and as good as the Frank Loesser score is, to me the greatest accomplishment are the words, both the lyrics to the song and the book, or script, itself. Runyon’s characters manage to combine slang and high-toned language in a delightful-despite-being-stylized fashion. Funny? You bet. I’d forgotten the line about a Scarsdale Galahad (Scarsdale, NY, is still the second-richest town on the East Coast), but will never lose “...a gent paying all kinds of rent for a flat that could flatten the Taj Mahal,” from the title song.

There’s gold in the material. What has the Muny done with it? Director Gordon Greenberg has brought a gifted cast to us, and choreography by Lorin Latarro and Patrick O’Neill mixes throwback Agnes deMille style with the snap of Bob Fosse to great effect. One seldom thinks of this as a dance show, but in Forest Park it is and it’s absolutely delicious.

Ben Davis is Sky Masterson (shown above with Brittany Bradford), the suave gambler who takes a bet on whether he can take “a mission doll” (doll being the generic word for female with these guys) to dinner. He’s warm and convincing in his belief that he can get her to dinner – and that he’s not the type to become a Scarsdale Galahad. Jordan Gelber plays Nathan Detroit, who runs the oldest established permanent floating crap game in New York, as Loesser described it. Gelber moves like James Corden, and has a face that occasionally brought to mind the late Karl Malden in a very good mood, making Detroit altogether irresistible despite his 14-year engagement to the star of a local nightclub.

The distaff side is equally well-represented onstage. Sarah Brown, the “mission doll”, comes to us courtesy of Brittany Bradford, a strong-willed and virtuous young woman who denies her tingles just as loooong as she possibly can. A wonderful voice, put to good use, and fine acting. St. Louisan Kendra Kassebaum (shown below with Jordan Gelber) creates Miss Adelaide, the long-suffering chantoosey with the ongoing engagement to good old reliable Nathan. She just tears it up, particularly with “Adelaide’s Lament”, and happily, the sound system is good enough that the lyrics came through loud and clear, occasioning loud and much-deserved laughter.

The supporting players are a significant part of this show, and we can start with Ken Page as Sarah’s grandfather, who runs the mission with her. He’s never sounded better. Nicely-Nicely Johnson, one of Detroit’s buddies who sings, “Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat” is Orville Mendoza. Nicely-Nicely was originated by the late Stubby Kaye, and this is a good point to say that despite the amazing number of well-known actors who’ve done this show, all these folks are not channeling anyone else’s performances. They own these roles, no easy task with such a heritage.

The new stage and video screens are used to great effect here, spangled with neon signs and logos from the period. (Bonus points to anyone else who remembers Tofenetti’s.) And do keep an occasional eye on the orchestra pit, from which rises occasionally a cast member or two.

A wondrous start to the new season.

 

Guys and Dolls

through June 16

The Muny

Forest Park

www.muny.org

The Boy From Oz

For years, Peter Allen was mainly known for being married to Liza Minnelli, back when she was mainly known for being Judy Garland’s daughter. The Boy from Oz tells the story of his life from well before the marriage until his death at age 48. Allen, of course, was a performer and songwriter from Australia. (As a friend of mine once had to point out, the title of the show does not refer to his former mother-in-law’s most famous film about the wizard.) He won an Oscar for the theme to the movie “Arthur”, and if that doesn’t ring a bell, try the line, “When you get caught between the moon and New York City.” Of course, there’s always “I Go to Rio.”

Is all this worth a jukebox musical? In this case, the story is more interesting than the average show of that genre. Currently on the boards at Stages, it stars David Elder as Peter, who was born Peter Woolnough in the outback of Australia. Opening night, the young Peter was Ben Iken, who alternates with Simon Desilets. Elder, like the rest of the cast, doesn’t seem to have much of an Australian accent, but he gives us an Allen as vigorous as the original, dancing and singing and having a swell time. His younger self, courtesy of Iken, is almost as zippy and clearly a charmer.

The distaff side is spread pretty equally among Mom, Judy Garland and Liza. Mom, Corrine Melancon, seems a cliche at first, but in the second act comes into her own with a couple of fine numbers to claim her place. Michelle Ragusa, a Stages newcomer, is Judy Garland, and, while not doing a true Garland impersonation, has the strong delivery and the gestures. She sells it all with plenty of elan. Liza comes to us via Caitlyn Caughell. She has some really funny lines, unexpected, like many of the zingers in the script, but she doesn’t seem to get much beyond the unsure-of-herself kid that we first meet.

The story line is fairly singular. After all, who wouldn’t want to know what Garland was like as a mother-in-law? But besides the two big numbers we mentioned, there’s not much material from the Allen oeuvre that’s particularly memorable. Appropriate, yes, but basically fluff. It’s a show that depends heavily on the performers. Fortunately, they deliver, frequently in spades.

Unlike many similar shows, it’s balanced between the two acts. Ragusa’s Garland shines in the first act. In the second act, Melancon playing Allen’s mother steps right up and claims her place. So don’t think it’s okay to leave at intermission. For another thing, the last number is totally Busby Berkley-worthy with Brad Musgrove’s band of elves putting out more spangles and feathers than Halloween in Las Vegas, and folks strutting down stairs courtesy of James Wolk’s scenic design. Director Michael Hamilton gets it all right; the weakish score isn’t his fault.

Allen addicts will love this fizzy summertime treat. And for the rest of us, it’s hard to resist “I Go To Rio” as a postmortem spectacle.

 

The Boy From Oz

through June 30

Stages St. Louis

Robert G. Reim Theatre

111 S. Geyer Rd., Kirkwood

314-821-2407

www.stagesstlouis.org

Rigoletto

Where would opera, indeed, all fiction, be without deceit, or, at the very least, misunderstanding? Rigoletto, the great Giuseppe Verdi opera, is based on deceit and love; Opera Theatre of St. Louis gives it a dark, dramatic treatment showcasing both those elements. Despite darkness, drama and deceit, it manages to be quite beautiful, no small trick.

Based on a Victor Hugo story, the opera was originally set in the court of the duke of Mantua. Director Bruno Ravello has moved it to mid-19th Century Paris. It opens with a scene that’s Toulouse-Lautrec out of Degas with some lighting by Rembrandt, all at a cabaret full of the upper crust and some of the demi-monde. The duke is deeply licentious, bedding as many women as he can; tonight he’s considering a young ballerina and enjoying the can-can dancers. Rigoletto, an entertainer at court, is there. He’s disfigured by a major birthmark on his face, but uses a ventriloquist’s dummy to make cutting remarks to one and all. An old nobleman comes into the festivities. The duke has seduced his daughter but his outrage is met with scorn from the duke and Rigoletto as well. The aged father pronounces a curse on them both.

In other news, the duke’s roving eye has also hit on a sweet young thing he’s seen at mass. He intends to identify and then move on her. He has no idea she’s Gilda, the daughter of the widowed Rigoletto, who’s very tight-lipped about his private life. In fact, courtiers who have seen them think she’s Rigoletto’s mistress. Gilda, very sheltered by her father, knows there’s a handsome young man eyeing her at church and tells her maid she’s in love with him. There’s a knock at the door – and there’s her young man. It is, of course, the duke, using what we might term a nom de sheets. Just a penniless student, he assures her! Loves her! Will never love anyone else! She’s swooning, but dad’s coming and he ducks out before he’s caught.

The courtiers decide to kidnap Rigoletto’s “mistress” as a gift to the duke, and cart her off to his bedroom. [We have no idea of what she initially thinks when her “impoverished student” turns out to be a duke who has his wicked way with her.]

And this is just the first act.

Roland Wood, as Rigoletto, is splendid, both in his acting and his singing, a gorgeous voice showing his pride in his daughter and his terrible pain. The duke, Joshua Wheeler, is a charmer, great on the surface, but showing little if any conscience about what he does, even when we’re thinking maybe he really does love Gilda. His is the signature aria, la donna e mobile, and it sounds quite delicious if one overlooks the boldly superficial outlook it delineates. Gilda is So Young Park, an amazing voice, although physically rather stiff in her early scenes.

The curse-invoking father sung by Nicholas Newton, is deeply enraged, memorable in both sound and presence. A hired assassin comes to us via Christian Zaremba, slithery and threatening, and his sister, with whom he lures victims, is Lindsay Ammann. She’s quite a character, with a thrilling voice.

That wondrous light I spoke of, a golden glow, reappears several more times, and is the work of lighting designer Christopher Akerlind. Tom Watson created the wigs and makeup, particularly key in this birthmark-centric version, and the carefully-done costumes come from Mark Bouman. Roberto Kalb is conducting the orchestra for this beautiful, and of course very dramatic score – hey, it’s Verdi.

An exciting opening evening, even if it hadn’t been enhanced by thunder and rain outside while a thunderstorm is threatening onstage.

 

Rigoletto

through June 30

Opera Theatre of St. Louis

Loretto-Hilton Center

130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves

314-961-0644

opera-stl.org

Love's Labors Lost

People who are serious about the language generally love Shakespeare. That said, “serious” is a word that probably should not be applied to Love’s Labors Lost, a comedy he wrote around the time he was tossing off Romeo and Juliet.

It’s full of word jokes, although I admit lots of them are not easy to grasp given the references of the late 1500’s versus those of today. The cast working in Forest Park at this year’s Shakespeare Festival St. Louis makes it easy to laugh, though, even at ones that make one think, Wait – whaat? Yet the giggling continues to burst forth.

The very young King of Navarre (Sky Smith) wants to have three of his pals sign an oath calling for three years of study, fasting – and no women. Of course he’ll sign it, too. And he means it. The guys agree, although Biron (Bradley James Tejeda) is the most hesitant, seeming to understand more than the others how difficult this will be at their age. Egad, sure enough, the princess of France (Kea Trevett) appears with three lovely ladies-in-waiting and a majordomo, all to bargain with Navarre over a debt he owes her ailing father. Need I go further?

Well, actually, yes. Ne’er ran smooth and all that, so on top of all this we throw in Count Armado (Phillip Hernandez) a visiting noble from Spain who has the hots for a country maid named Jaquenetta, also the objet de passion of a peasant named Costard (Patrick Blindauer, who has a marvelous voice). The ladies-in-waiting and the king’s pals all know or have heard about each other, including Biron’s meeting Roseline (Laura Sohn), the feistiest of the young women, at a dance previously. Sparks were struck.

It’s always nice to get some idea of the story line in Shakespeare and opera if you’re not familiar with a show, and here's this year's Post-Dispatch story on it, by Calvin Wilson and Judy Newmark . That will help clarify even more.

Director Tom Ridgely, the Festival’s executive producer, has greenlighted a style that’s all in, and so it should be. Armado, the Spaniard, is reminiscent of Don Quixote but minus the shaving basin. Plenty of leering and physical comedy, especially from the men, with some characters mixed in specifically for comic relief, the way Armado is.

Tejada’s Biron is, in some ways, a stronger character than Smith’s king, who’s nicely restrained in his majesty. Biron is freed from having to play it cool when his hormones jump into gear. It’s the same with Trevett’s princess and Sohn’s Roseline, the former taking the lead but deliberately allowing her attendant leeway to use her special talents to confound the menfolk. Sohn grabs that with gusto.

Two of the comedic characters also call for some recognition. Katy Keating is Nathaniel, a priest, and Carine Montbertrand a mortarboard-wearing tutor and scholar. Montbertrand seemed to be channeling Fran Lebowitz, not that there’s anything wrong with that, goodness knows. The two provide some of the most understandable and funniest moments in the show. Special credit to Toodle Bug, playing the role of Goat, who is said to be “the only goat in D Bar S farm history to perform in a role other than dairy-related.” A tip of the leash to Molly Meyer who, as Jaquenetta, does a graceful job handling Toodle Bug and her other responsibilities as well.

The play is set outside Navarre’s castle, so the stone walls and garden benches and a nice iron gate set designer Jason Simms give us fit right into Forest Park. Melissa Trn gives us chronologically varied costumes, many reminiscent of the 1904 World’s Fair era and some harking back to conquistadores and others of Shakespeare’s periods. Interestingly, this isn’t at all jarring, merely piling on the fun. John Wylie did the lights and Rusty Wandall the sound. Matt Pace and Brien Seyle are the composers of the score and do much of the delightful and often slyly charming onstage music, too.

If this spring’s precipitation gives you pause, please know that there’s a weather hotline for the show. 314-531-9800, extension 7, is updated hourly beginning at 7 p.m. And you can even reserve a blanket and a spot for it now.

A romp in the park, indeed.

 

Love’s Labours Lost

through June 23

Shakespeare Festival St. Louis

Shakespeare Glen

Forest Park

www.sfstl.com

Charlie Johnson Reads All of Proust

Charlie Johnson is a retired insurance guy who lives in a small town in Indiana. He is not, to be sure, the former Big Red quarterback who completed his master’s and PhD degrees in chemical engineering at Washington University while playing here. (His photo playing in the incredibly muddy game in 1964 with the Giants hangs in my living room. That’s another story.)

No, this Charlie is just an ordinary guy and perhaps the last person you’d expect to be knocking off all seven volumes of In Search of Lost Time. You may remember it better as Remembrance of Things Past. When we meet him in The Midnight Company’s Charlie Johnson Reads All of Proust, he’s living a life of bi-weekly card games, driving the church’s bus, not that he’s not one himself, and going to Snappy Seniors meetings.

It’s easy to get lulled into thinking that this is just another cornball-meets-culture story. But it’s not. The exposition is very well-paced, although there’s a bit of a giveaway when he lapses into some lovely descriptive language about tomatoes. Charlie’s stories range from childhood to the present, Hanrahan’s low-key approach a perfect form for the character.

It helps to have read Proust – or just read about Proust – to get more out of the humor, perhaps. But it’s certainly not necessary. Charlie explains...well, not all of Proust, but enough to let everyone enjoy the evening and connect the massive work to his life, and, in various ways, to ours, as well.

Sarah Lynne Holt directs the show. Chuck Winning gives us a living room with lots of pictures that aren’t accidentally chosen, and worth a post-show look. Tony Anselmo did the lights, which accentuate some of the remembrance.

The play is by Amy Crider. This may be only its second appearance in the country, but it’s a warm, interesting 70 minutes or so, and one hopes it can continue to be performed. It's a delight. 

 

Charlie Johnson Reads All of Proust

through June 15

The Midnight Company

Kranzberg Black Box

501 N. Grand

Metrotix

The Marriage of Figaro

The Marriage of Figaro certainly is one of the classic operas, among the most frequently performed in America and world-wide. That said, if you’re a novice to this form of entertainment, this production of it from Opera Theatre of St. Louis could well be an entry-level drug.

Consider it, if you will, a sort of Downton Abbey in a condensed form. The action, four acts, one intermission, three hours, takes place over a single day and has the sort of complicated story that was common in those pre-cinema days. (People expected to get their money’s worth in terms of tales told. And they had longer attention spans.) Figaro is the manservant of Count Almaviva and wants to marry Susanna, the Countess’ maid. But the count – who, I assure you, is no Robert, Earl of Grantham – has other ideas. His roving eye has hit upon Susanna and thinks it’s time to reinstate droit du seigneur, that custom wherein the lord of the manor has the right to bed any maiden in his fiefdom before her husband does. In addition, we have young Cherubino, an adolescent in full hormonal storm, although that has nothing to do with it being a trouser role, which means it’s sung by a female. Cherubino is wild for a young woman named Barbarina, but he’s also gaga over his godmother, the beautiful countess, whom he worships from considerably more afar. The count has figured this out and does not believe what’s sauce for the goose, etc. In addition, there’s a slick music teacher, a physician-lawyer with ulterior motives, and an older woman who really thinks she should be marrying Figaro instead of Susanna.

If all this seems a little much to follow, remember OTSL sings and has supertitles in English. You should also read the story in the program if you can. (Of course you got there early. Maybe a picnic, maybe to stroll the garden, maybe to people watch.)

The music is a delight. Aubrey Allicock as Figaro is a clean-cut swain, smart if slightly naive and sounds great. Susanna, brought to us by Monica Dewey, has lots of work to do – it’s a heavy-duty role with lots of singing – but she carries it off with elan. As the countess Rosina, Susannah Biller is stunning in style and song. One thinks this Rosina could have done better than the count, here played by Theo Hoffman with suitable jealousy and conniving. Cherubino, Samantha Gossard, is zestfully played, a lovely voice and lots of spirit.

The feast continues with the visual. The set uses bits of the hedonistic Fragonard’s paintings enlarged to dream-size as well as turning into intriguing interiors, all this from set designer Paul Steinberg. More deliciousness arrives in the form of costume Designer Constance Hoffman’s work, including the countess’ wonderfully oversized floral prints, especially a negligee. Tom Watson’s wigs and makeup fit right in with the era, especially the men’s towering bicornuate perukes.

And afterwards, please remember the tent up the hill is for anyone, not just cast and the people who give large (or even smaller) donations. Wander up, humming, have a glass or an ice cream and smile about it all.

Remember when you thought opera meant stuffy?

 

The Marriage of Figaro

through June 29

Opera Theatre of St. Louis

Loretto-Hilton Center

130 Edgar Rd., Webster Groves

314-961-0644

opera-stl.org

I Now Pronounce

He’s just sort of stunned. She’s a bridezilla. Expect very little optimism from a comedy about a wedding. Then you’ll be all set for I Now Pronounce, the comedy now at the New Jewish Theatre. Ed Coffield, NJT’s artistic director and a guy with an active sense of humor of his own, has directed this Tasha Gordon-Solomon play that starts out with a coughing codger of a rabbi and goes on from there.

It’s not funny to deal with people who know weddings are not as important as the marriages they begin, people who don’t bicker and demand and freak out. Fortunately, none of those folks are onstage here. Instead we have the aforementioned groom (Graham Emmons) whose groomsmen (Ryan Lawson-Maeske and Will Bonfiglio) are offering to help him escape instead of going back into the reception. The bride (Jessica Kadish) is locked in the restroom crying and shrieking because the rabbi has ruined her wedding by dying mid-ceremony. Her bridesmaids (Frankie Ferrari and Delaney Piggins) aren’t having much luck cajoling her out, although Piggins’ character is somewhat distracted by the cute EMT she’s given her phone number to as he carted the rabbi off.

Things get rough at several points, include the bride lighting into the groom with razor-sharp words that make audience members gasp (and one mutter, “Get out now, pal”). A speech by Bonfiglio is so deeply cynical as well as nasty that it, too, sears us. Ferrari seems to be the always-a-bridesmaid-and-never-a-bride character (once upon a time, kids, that was a phrase used in advertising) and Lawson-Maeske is separated from his wife. Temporarily. He thinks. Or not.

The script is not just bouncing from laugh to laugh. There’s some serious struggles going on here, and we’re seeing fine work from these folks. However, let me cite the immortal W.C. Fields, who warned other performers never to work with animals or children. We have three young women here, the flower girls. Lydia Mae Foss, Abby Goldstein and Millie Eidelman, and they are splendid. They skitter through scene after scene worrying about ghosts as well as grownups, nailing lines, dancing with the rest of the cast, and generally being irresistible. They don’t steal the show, but it’s good they’re mostly onstage when everyone else is not. Particular kudos to Coffield for managing this group so well. Eidelman in particular does her shrieking in fine style.

David Blale was the scenic designer, Tony Anselmo designed the lights, and Amanda Werre the sound, all of which are well-coordinated.

Despite the flower girls, the language onstage means this is more of a production for adults, so be forewarned. And the program is wrong; this is a 100-minute no-intermission production.

 

I Now Pronounce

through June 2

The New Jewish Theatre

Marvin & Harlene Wool Studio Theatre

Arts & Education Building

Jewish Community Center

2 Millstone Campus Drive

Website

Nina Simone: Four Women

Once again because of a show in town, it seems like a good time to recount some too-recent history. On September 15, 1963, in the midst of the civil rights movement, which was particularly active in Birmingham, AL, a bomb went off at the 16^th Street Baptist Church. It was during Sunday school hours. Four little girls, ranging in age from 11 to 14, were killed. The church, badly damaged, had been very involved in the movement and was the starting point for many of its marches.

Nina Simone, a popular singer and pianist, became deeply involved in the movement. Nina Simone: Four Women puts her in Birmingham in the immediate aftermath of the bombing as she’s writing a song about the struggles. She’s in the ruins of the church composing. One at a time, three other women come in.

Leah Stuart is Nina Simone, strong and angry and not disposed to put up with interference. Sarah, whose name we don’t learn until late in the show, is a maid. Denice Thimes moves like a woman of some age, maybe a little arthritis in the knees and hips, guarding her dignity and puzzled about Simone’s whole slowly revealed story. Alex Jay is Sephronia, a teacher, who fairly quickly recognizes the woman trying to compose, and wants her out marching as well as writing songs about it. Then Sweet Thing – and that probably isn’t her real name, either, but we’ll never know – sweeps in, all cleavage and a pair of turquoise blue spike heels. Played by Camile Sharp, she’s not much interested in the movement, just having a white-hot talk with Sephronia and laying verbal waste to the others who protest her overall attitude.

Through all this, there’s talk about the movement, the violence, Dr. King and the four young lives that have been lost. “They say,” signs Sarah, “you can hear them crying sometimes.” As to violence, well, there was a reason the city was called “Bombingham” for a while.

Director Ron Himes pulls great performances from all the cast. Charles Creath, the musical director, who’s on the piano Simone is using as a desk, is a guy one could listen to all night under most any circumstances. Much of the music is what Simone co-write. Scenic design from Tim Jones is deeply evocative.

One wishes the script were a little better. The aura of magical realism works well, but there’s so much exposition, one wonders if it were intended at one point for young audiences, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Still, we’ve got some fine work here from the whole cast and crew. And there is the deeply still-relevant line from the script:

We all have a lot to learn.

 

Nina Simone: Four Women

through June 2

The Black Rep

Edison Theatre

Washington University in St. Louis

www.theblackrep.org

 

Come from Away

It’s coming on to eighteen years since the awful events of 9/11. There’s a whole generation now that doesn’t remember the actual day or has only a cursory knowledge of what happened. There was so much going on and so much not going on that it’s easy to overlook one of the largest of the small good stories that came out of the horror.

Flights coming into the US from foreign destinations were diverted and American airspace was shut down. Canada took all the flights coming in from Europe if they were past the point of no return, i.e, didn’t have enough fuel to return to the continent. The little town of Gander, whose airport had been, among other things, a serious departure point for aircraft during WW II, and who was closest to northern Europe, received 38 planes. The people of Gander, population of around 10,000, fed and housed 6,700 passengers and crew from all over the world until they were able to resume their journeys on September 14.

Come from Away is the story of that experience. There aren’t any words to describe it that haven’t been used and seemingly overused. It is, indeed, a picture of the milk of human kindness writ large, of how on short notice a small town on an island pulled together a humanitarian mission and carry it off with warmth and grace. Book, music and lyrics are by Irene Sankoff and David Hein.

I went into this with a certain degree of skepticism, expecting saccharine sweetness and rainbows. Nope. Cast your cynicism aside and be swept away by a story of ordinary people rising to a challenge – on both sides of this story. It opens on the ordinary Tuesday morning everyone talks about with the mayor of Gander meeting his pals and other constituents in the Tim Horton’s in town. The school bus drivers are on strike, and negotiations aren’t going well. And then the policeman rushes in and says, “Turn on the television.”

When will these passengers be told what’s happened? How long before they’re allowed off the plane? Immigration control still has to be observed. Hand baggage only, a good reminder not to put essentials like medication in checked luggage. Are there animals on the plane? How many public places can be used as shelters? How can guests be transported to shelters? How many telephones can we provide for them? There’s a particularly delightful brief number when the toilets at an elementary school/shelter need to be cleaned and a group of men, allegedly cardiologists, in lab coats and gloves present themselves when no one else volunteers.

A cast of 12 handles passengers, crew and townspeople, and somehow manage to keep almost everything clearly defined, although they’re not so much defined by name as by roles, the mayor, the captain, the oil company employee and so on. The music, some of which is clearly Celtic in style, very characteristic of Newfoundland – who knew? - is often charming with Irish flutes, a harmonium, and a bouzouki (not so Celtic there...), among other things. The musical staging from Kelly Devine, including choreography with chairs on the stage’s turntable, works very well. Beowulf Boritt’s set is one of those less-minimal-than-it-seems things that’s quite beautiful, and the lights from Howell Binkley add to the aura. Sound design in the Fox is always a balancing act, and in the opening number it was hard to hear the lyrics because of a thudding bass. Things improved some after that.

It’s not a perfect show. About 100 minutes without intermission compresses things, and leaves characters sometimes shortchanged and sometimes somewhat stereotyped. Some of the score is deeply unremarkable and little of it will survive independently.

But it’s a great story, carefully told and well put together by director Christopher Ashley.

 

Come from Away

through May 26

Fox Theatre

527 N. Grand

www.fabulousfox.com

Dear Mr. Williams

For those who are suckers for storytelling, let me warn them that Dear Mr. Williams ran only over the weekend just past. The Tennessee Williams Festival St. Louis brought in Bryan Batt, who created the piece and performs it, for three shows. Batt, of course, is an actor who has had a SAG Award for “Mad Men” and several encounters with the Drama Desk Awards.

The show is a cabaret act without music, and that’s no insult. Batt weaves his personal story with quotes from Williams, the way a singer might tell stories and then fall into some fine Gershwin song. Batt’s a native New Orleanean, a real yat, from the sort of family has for generations participated in Mardi Gras balls and cotillions. He was, he says, always a kid interested in beautiful things, thanks to his mother. He discovered theater and Tennessee Williams in high school, and found that Williams loved New Orleans. And then, slowly, he recognized what he was seeing in Williams was what he was seeing in himself.

Batt’s a fine storyteller, giving us tales of the New Orleans we know and the New Orleans we may not know, family stories and insider glimpses of his world growing up. The Williams quotes fit in smoothly, wise and deep. We even end up with stories about Helen Hayes.

If the show’s come and gone, why am I talking about it now? Because this is the sort of thing the festival does well, finding these smaller, offbeat things that are related, the sort of events that are worth taking a chance on. Dear Mr. Williams certainly was.

 

Dear Mr. Williams

Tennessee Williams Festival St. Louis

twstl.org/

A Lovely Sunday in Creve Coeur

It’s not often that one thinks of Tennessee Williams as having a light hand at drawing the human condition. But it surely shows in A Lovely Sunday for Creve Coeur.

It’s a Sunday morning in June, the sun is up, a pigeon coos outside the window of a small apartment in St. Louis. Dorothea (Maggie Wininger) is a single woman, a teacher at nearby Blewett School, which was, at the time of the play, a high school on Enright Avenue, just off Union. She shares the apartment with Bodey (Kelley Weber), an older woman who works at International Shoe. Dorothea’s waiting for a phone call from the man she’s dating, who’s her principal at the school. Bodey’s frying chicken. She’s putting together an outing to Creve Coeur Park, then the terminus of a trolley that ran down Delmar, through Overland and out to Creve Coeur Lake. She still hopes that Dorothea and her portly brother will hit it off, an idea Dorothea has repeatedly nixed in favor of the principal, who’s so fancy he drives a REO Flying Cloud.

The two women are very different. Dorothea, who’s moved from Memphis, is very conscious of her appearance and is very focused on having a husband and family. Bodey is a bustling hausfraulein who knows she’ll probably never marry but focuses on the pleasures of right now – and of getting her brother settled, despite his cigars and rumpled appearance. Two guests arrive. One is another tenant, Miss Gluck (Ellie Schwetye), for her daily coffee and consolation over the recent death of her mother. The other is the icily magnificent Helena (Julie Layton), an art history teacher at Blewett, who’s very mysterious about the reasons for her unexpected call.

Kari Ely directed this surprising piece of fun with its rapid-fire dialogue, some of which is exceedingly amusing. It takes place in Ali Strelchun’s wonderful set, all light and color. Watching the actors come up the center aisle upstairs at the Grandel, where it’s staged, is a nice preview of what’s to come, Weber’s Bodey a masterpiece of bustling, for instance.

Some discussion of Dorothea in recent years has the character a faded Southern belle, in the style of some other Williams women, but Wininger looks and acts younger. Maybe we don’t regard a teacher in perhaps her mid to late 20’s as aging, but things have changed since the mid-Thirties when the play is set. Wininger is more dazzled and determined than desperate, which works very well. Weber’s Bodey has a warm, kind heart that tries to protect her roommate and settle her into the sort of domesticity that she always wanted for herself. Only a remarkable performance by Julie Layton can hold up to the magnificence of her hat, the product of Garth Dunbar, the costume designer. And Ellie Schwetye is a sobbing black stork, only occasionally breaking into heavily accented English.

Not among the greatest of Williams’ works, certainly, but how fun to see him at play!

 

A Lovely Sunday for Creve Coeur

through May 19

Tennessee Williams Festival St. Louis

Grandel Theatre

https://www.twstl.org/

Death Tax

You know those people who announce they didn’t like a play or a movie because,\ the uniforms of the soldiers didn’t have the right patches for whatever unit and time frame was involved? Or the style of fork in a banquet scene hadn’t come into use for another 70 years? Seems unfair to trash all that artistic effort just because a costuming error noticeable to perhaps 1% of the audience or the wrong forks because a small theater company needed to use what they had. But there are folks for whom that detail can ruin an evening.

Having worked as an RN for umpty-ump years, I have my list of Things, too. Every medical series on television except MASH I left quickly or never started. So plays about that sort of thing I admit to casting a particularly careful eye on. The good ones, though, work well despite some problems with details, and that’s how it is with Death Tax. It’s from the pen of Lucas Hnath, who wrote, among other plays, A Doll’s House, Part 2, which the Rep did in 2018, and the current Broadway offering Hilary and Clinton. This is a guy who knows his way around a keyboard.

It’s a nursing home where Maxine (Kim Furlow) is a long-time patient and Tina (Jeanitta Perkins) is her nurse. Maxine is old and cranky and has some unnamed serious illness. “I know I’m going to die,” she announces. It’s not so much the dying that she’s concerned about, it’s her estate. Estate taxes will go up after the first of the current year, she explains to Nurse Tina, and she wants to stay alive until after the taxes go up, so her daughter (Kristen Strom) won’t get nearly as much as she would if Maxine died before New Year’s Day. (Dysfunctional R Us.) Maxine thinks the nurse is being paid by the daughter to knock her off before then. Maxine offers a solution to the problem, and Tina agrees.

Todd (Reginald Pierre) is perhaps a nursing supervisor, certainly Tina’s superior. He calls her into his office because he’s been given sort-of proof of Tina’s unethical behavior with Maxine. But he’s been dating Tina and is clearly quite smitten with her; alas, his affection is not returned in equal portion.

Somewhere in here it begins to dawn on us that this is moving away from reality. There are various signs, but the biggest one is why doesn’t Maxine just call her lawyer and change her will to benefit some charity? There’s more sticky stuff beyond nurses accepting bribes, interoffice (internursing station?) romance between unequals, and paying off physicians. But it hangs on the edge of reality so well that it all works.

Furlow does crotchety wonderfully, bringing us up to the edge of wanting to smack her but not quiiiiiite there. Perkins’ Tina is a nicely slow reveal until hormones raise their eager head; she’s great to watch and then does a second turn as a social worker in the last part of the show. Pierre’s meltdown is wondrous to watch, and he, too, has a second part as Maxine’s grandson. When we finally get to meet the daughter, whose story is, not surprisingly, rather different than Maxine’s version in this game of Who Do You Trust, Strom gives a shakily on-target rendition, which furthers our questions.

The unusual set from Jamie Perkins works extremely well, with lights from Michael Sullivan and sound by Zoe Sullivan. Bess Moynihan pulled it all together in fine fashion and it’s a remarkably interesting evening.

That said, here comes the nurse’s rant. And it’s aimed at every group that’s used a hospital bed in a set, so Mustard Seed folks, all you did was remind me.

Theatrical convention – and that includes television and all the soap operas in particular – seems to dictate that hospital beds never have the siderails up. That’s wrong. For all but the most physically able patients, at least one would be up, at least. They give patients something to hold onto and help themselves turn in the relatively-narrow beds and their mattresses which range from hard and slippery to deep and squooshy. And the sicker the patient is, the more apt the rails are to be up.

Thank you, end of rant!

 

Death Tax

through May 19

Mustard Seed Theatre

6800 Wydown Blvd, Clayton (enter off Big Bend)

314-719-8060

www.mustardseedtheatre.com

The Night of the Iguana

The Night of the Iguana kicks off this year’s Tennessee Williams Festival St. Louis, and it’s a hot time in the old town. Taken from a short story which evolved into the play and then a film, it’s one of the classic Williams pieces, full of steam and drama.

A seedy hotel in the rain forests of Mexico, a point between feverish daze and reality carefully created by Dunsi Da, is the setting. It’s owned and run by Maxine Faulk, a bawdy, strong-willed woman whose older husband has recently died. She’s employed a couple of young men who have worked as cliff divers at other hotels, barking orders and utilizing them in other ways, not all of which are seen onstage. Climbing up the steep hill to the hotel is a returning guest, the Reverend Mr. Lawrence Shannon, who’s unexpectedly brought a busload of Baptist ladies who comprise a group tour he’s leading.

Shannon has more than a busload of problems. He’s a binge alcoholic and has a taste for very young women. The group is unhappy with pretty much everything he’s done on the tour, from food to no sightseeing. The crowning touch is his overappreciation of a 16-year-old on the tour.

Maxine doesn’t want the Baptist ladies, who are still in the bus, and the ladies don’t want to stay there, but Shannon is in the middle of what could charitably be called an(other) existential crisis, dodging both the group leader and the little sweetie who still has the hots for him. To add fuel, Maxine certainly would like for Shannon to stay. Then two more unexpected guests arrive, a middle-aged woman and her very elderly grandfather, both itinerant artists.

It’s a show packed with great work. James Andrew Butz, (the actor formerly known as Jim Butz) gives Shannon desperation and wildness, falling into self-contemplation and then completely losing it, a tooth-rattling performance. The crowning touch is his mastery of the mid-stage hammock, hammocks being nice to look at but the very devil to manage gracefully. Maxine, the hotel owner, comes to us via Lavonne Byers in a performance that could have been played far more widely. But that would have given us a caricature of character. Instead we see a long look or a raised eyebrow instead of a more salacious move. It makes the audience look more closely.

New to St. Louis is Nisi Sturgis as Hannah, the sketch artist-granddaughter. The family is from Nantucket, and Hannah is a self-contained New Englander. Nevertheless she eyes Shannon with restrained curiosity and kindness, enough that Maxine senses a challenge to her play for him. Sturgis’ Hannah is half-ethereal, reality-based but still, somehow, almost floating. Hannah’s grandfather is played by Harry Weber, perhaps better known to St. Louis as a sculptor.( Ironically, the bust of Tennessee Williams at Euclid and McPherson is Weber’s work. He’s swell as the aged grandfather, a poet trying to create his swan song.)

Williams’ plays, like Woody Allen’s movies, always have a character that is at least partly identifiably Williams. Here it’s Shannon, but in another sense, it’s part of Hannah, as well, a different side of Williams, the calm and almost loving talking to the nearly-out-of-control.

Tim Ocel directed, clearly using a clear vision of what this ought to be, and he’s delivered in spades. Jon Ontiveros’ lighting is a key, and so is Ellie Schwetye’s sound. It’s been a while since the play was done in St. Louis, and it’s something theatre-goers ought to flock to.

 

The Night of the Iguana

through May 19

Tennessee Williams Festival St. Louis

Grandel Theatre

https://www.twstl.org/

 

Salt, Root, and Roe

Growing old is not for sissies: That saying and its variants have been around for several generations, so long there’s no good attribution for it. Like many such lines, it’s remained evergreen because it’s pretty much true. And if anyone forgets, there’s Salt, Root, and Roe to remind them.

Upstream Theater brings us the American premiere of this play by Tim Price. It’s a co-production with Stages Repertory Theatre Houston. We’re offered a family living in Pembrokeshire, on the west coast of Wales, as the eldest generation is aging. “Aging in place” is the current description; certainly there are enough home-care options in the British health care system that it’s easier almost anywhere in that country than it is in the U.S. without paying for it oneself.

Twin sisters Iola (Donna Weinsting) and Anest (Sally Edmundson) live together as Iola is slipping into dementia. It’s not just “good days” and “bad days”, just as it happens in real life. Things can shift very quickly. They’re as close as one expects twins to be. Indeed, in the opening scene, they are frolicking in a puddle of green light both holding a rope, and the image of twins in utero with a shared umbilical cord is inescapable. But in their home, Anest’s daughter Menna (Amy Loui) has discovered neither sister is there. She apparently has just arrived, her visit caused by a letter from Iola that has frightened her. She has no idea where they are and is near-hysterical, despite the efforts of the constable Gareth (Eric Dean White), who she’s known for years, to calm her.

It looks as though they’re moving – there are boxes everywhere, and we discover that much of the furniture has been taken away. There’s a vague mention of a facility of some sort, since Iola has refused to allow any of the carers from “the Council”, i.e., people who come in to assist with housekeeping and personal hygiene under the National Health scheme, to visit. Menna wants to return to this place where she grew up and take care of them, and is adamant that they do something rather than doddle along as they have been, especially when she discovers that recently Iola hit Anest with a fireplace poker. That, of course, is a pretty reasonable response to what she’s finding at her mother’s home. Nevertheless, make no mistake: Menna is not in such great shape herself. She’s angry, impulsive, and compulsive, wearing latex gloves, scrubbing floors, and slowly revealing the bones of her marriage.

It turns out that Iola, in her lucid moments, has decided she’s had enough of this and wants to end it all. That’s what was in the letter. Anest understands. Menna doesn’t.

The picture of life with dementia is graphically accurate, and Weinstock is excellent, slipping in and out of rationality. It’s a demanding role and she nails it. As the supportive sister, Edmundson leans more toward Iola than to her daughter Menna, probably not surprising since she’s now Iona’s caregiver, not Menna’s. It’s a performance of restrained emotion except when the sisters are interacting. The sisters often seem to lapse into speaking Welsh, although it’s easy to think perhaps it’s one of the twin languages one hears about. The foreign tongue doesn’t seem to impair our understanding, although for a while, the audience surely wonders.

The Houston side of the production shows itself admirably. The show’s director is Kenn McLaughlin, the artistic director for the Houston group. Sally Edmundson, the actress playing Anest works out of Houston. The impressive sound, including some interesting original music, is from Anthony Barilla, based in Houston. Lighting, too, is from Texas, courtesy of Steve Carmichael, whose work is important to the story. And the set is courtesy of Michael Heil, giving us land and sea in the space of the Kranzberg’s black box. McLaughlin has sewn it all together nicely.

The show runs about 100 minutes without intermission. One wishes more might have been made of the mother-daughter relationship, but all in all it works well and gives a fine showcase for some outstanding talent.

 

Salt, Root, and Roe

through May 12

Upstream Theater

Kranzberg Arts Center

501 N. Grand

314-669-6382

website