Full disclosure: The reviewer is a member of the Board of Directors of the Cloverdale Playhouse.
Frederick Knott's 1966 thriller Wait Until Dark -- best known for the film version starring Audrey Hepburn -- is a follow-up hit to his Dial M for Murder. . . and the genre is being given a tensely enjoyable showing at the Cloverdale Playhouse under the astute direction of Eleanor K. Davis.
Ms. Davis has gathered an ensemble of experienced actors (and a star-in-the-making in the person of young Miette Crim) who, with the collaborative support of the design team's detailed creation of period and character driven set-lights-sound-costumes, deliver a suspenseful evening in the theatre.
There are several twists and turns in the complicated plot revolving around young recently-blind Susy Hendrix [Rhonda Crim] in her attempts to both maneuver through her Greenwich Village basement apartment and thwart the designs of a trio of con-men/thugs who will stop at nothing to retrieve some heroin smuggled into the country inside a doll that Susy's husband Sam [Stephen Dubberly], unaware of its contents, had carried as a favor to a woman at the airport.
The trio, believing that the doll is in Susy's apartment, assume a number of disguises as they insinuate themselves into her life while Sam is kept away from home on a ruse invented by the sinister Harry Roat [Mark Hunter] and his accomplices pretending to be a policeman, Sgt. Carlino [Greg Babb] and a "friend" of Sam's named Mike Talman [Scott Page]. -- While Carlino assumes the role of a detective searching for the murderer of a woman in Susy's neighborhood (the same woman who gave Sam the doll), he is also obsessed with erasing any possible fingerprints. Talman meanwhile ingratiates himself with Susy and appears to be her protector. And Roat assumes two roles -- both father and son -- who claim to be related to the murdered woman, and who variously accuse Sam of having had an affair with her.
Susy's 10-year-old neighbor Gloria [Miette Crim] runs errands for her, often reluctantly, and she has a bit of a temperamental streak; but when Susy conscripts her to help in a serious "adventure" to catch the thugs, she relishes the opportunity and is essential for Susy's success. Well done.
There is a huge amount of exposition in the play that the ensemble make dramatically interesting as they invest thoroughly in their characters and with one another. -- The sinister plotting and the deviousness of the antagonists could in lesser hands be reduced to melodramatic grandstanding, but as Susy begins to put the pieces together and determines to outwit the thugs at their own game, their credibility is never in doubt.
Mr. Babb's "Carlino" is as gruff as they come in his role of detective: a familiar type that he makes his own with confidence and a touch of humor. -- Mr. Page is utterly convincing as "Mike Talman", the kindly friend; we have to be reminded now and then that he is a con-man. No wonder that Susy believes him without a shred of evidence: only his gently supportive manner. -- Mr. Hunter's depictions of "Roat, Senior" and "Roat, Junior" are masterful ruses; but beneath these roles is the ruthless fanatic seething underneath, whose smooth unblinking calm oozes with criminal intent.
Our sympathies lie with Susy from the outset. Her blindness, first seen as a disability that needs to be overcome with gentle prodding by Sam, later becomes her ace-in-the-hole as she turns the tables on the crooks. Ms. Crim takes us on her character's journey as we watch her stumble or grope her way around the apartment in domestic chores. As she discovers her independence through a heightened sense of hearing, she realizes what the con-men have been doing: Carlino wiping fingerprints, sending signals to each other outside the apartment by opening and closing window blinds, the sound of Roat's shoes and identical style of walking of Roat Senior & Junior.
Tension mounts in Ms. Davis's production as the inevitability of the doll's being found in the apartment makes for a life and death show-down, leading to a final scene played in the dark when Susy and Gloria extinguish all the lights while the bad guys descend on them. (Even for those who remember the impact of the film's final moments, audible gasps demonstrate that this scene retains its shock value.)
Wisely, Ms. Davis has kept the 1960s ambiance intact by respecting Knott's script. The coincidences inherent in the thriller genre, Susy's trusting nature, airport security, and such might make us today question the credibility of the script; but as Ms. Davis and her entire company on and off stage approach it with absolute confidence, audiences can't help but accept and get involved with them...and have a good time in the theatre.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Millbrook: "Bell, Book, and Candle"
The Millbrook Community Players, Inc. are currently showing John Van Druten's romantic comedy Bell, Book, and Candle (known to many from the 1958 film starring Kim Novak and James Stewart), and have invited comparisons to the film by borrowing parts of its sound score in their production.
Co-directed by Ginger Collum and Susan Chain, the five actors and one cat tell the story of Gillian Holroyd [Karla McGhee], the leader of a coven of New York City witches, and her bewitching of her book publisher neighbor Shepherd Henderson [Roger Humber] -- partly because she is attracted to him, and partly to take revenge on a long ago college rival who she discovers happens to be engaged to Shep. Using her cat Pyewacket as a "familiar" with which to cast the spell, Shep instantly falls in love with Gillian; but she can't return his ardor in kind because tradition has it that witches can not fall in love.
Abetted by her wacky Aunt Queenie [Tracy Allgrove, reminiscent of Marion Lorne's Aunt Clara in television's Bewitched] and her immature prankster brother Nicky [Michael Hartman in his stage debut] who complicate matters while trying to help, the plot gets further tangled by the entrance of Sidney Redlitch [Charlie Mulcahy's over-the-top drunkard calls out for more variety] who is writing a book about New York's witches.
Shep doesn't believe in witches, but will consider Redlitch's manuscript; Gillian questions Redlitch's credibility, especially when he consults Madame de Passe who Gillian knows to be a second-rate practitioner; but Nicky offers to help Redlitch with his research.
No spoiler alerts here -- it is a romantic comedy, after all -- so the ending is fairly predictable; and Van Druten's 1950s landscape with its naive innocence comes across as a bit dated, no matter how charming. And there is such a lot of exposition in Van Druten's first act, that little else happens to entertain till Act Two.
Mr. Humber plays Shep's very compliant demeanor with ease, and Ms. McGhee occasionally demonstrates Gillian as a real force to contend with; but their sexual chemistry is all too tentative, and her transition from a sexy witch to an ordinary human being needs more distinction. We need to believe in the magic. -- Ms. Allgrove ranges from haughty New York matron to a peculiar bohemian; and Mr. Hartman's behavior is too much in check for one described as a merry prankster.
The production is pleasant enough, and a diverting entertainment for the end of Summer. With quicker pacing and focus on the larger than life characters Van Druten penned, this Bell, Book, and Candle could attain its magic.
Co-directed by Ginger Collum and Susan Chain, the five actors and one cat tell the story of Gillian Holroyd [Karla McGhee], the leader of a coven of New York City witches, and her bewitching of her book publisher neighbor Shepherd Henderson [Roger Humber] -- partly because she is attracted to him, and partly to take revenge on a long ago college rival who she discovers happens to be engaged to Shep. Using her cat Pyewacket as a "familiar" with which to cast the spell, Shep instantly falls in love with Gillian; but she can't return his ardor in kind because tradition has it that witches can not fall in love.
Abetted by her wacky Aunt Queenie [Tracy Allgrove, reminiscent of Marion Lorne's Aunt Clara in television's Bewitched] and her immature prankster brother Nicky [Michael Hartman in his stage debut] who complicate matters while trying to help, the plot gets further tangled by the entrance of Sidney Redlitch [Charlie Mulcahy's over-the-top drunkard calls out for more variety] who is writing a book about New York's witches.
Shep doesn't believe in witches, but will consider Redlitch's manuscript; Gillian questions Redlitch's credibility, especially when he consults Madame de Passe who Gillian knows to be a second-rate practitioner; but Nicky offers to help Redlitch with his research.
No spoiler alerts here -- it is a romantic comedy, after all -- so the ending is fairly predictable; and Van Druten's 1950s landscape with its naive innocence comes across as a bit dated, no matter how charming. And there is such a lot of exposition in Van Druten's first act, that little else happens to entertain till Act Two.
Mr. Humber plays Shep's very compliant demeanor with ease, and Ms. McGhee occasionally demonstrates Gillian as a real force to contend with; but their sexual chemistry is all too tentative, and her transition from a sexy witch to an ordinary human being needs more distinction. We need to believe in the magic. -- Ms. Allgrove ranges from haughty New York matron to a peculiar bohemian; and Mr. Hartman's behavior is too much in check for one described as a merry prankster.
The production is pleasant enough, and a diverting entertainment for the end of Summer. With quicker pacing and focus on the larger than life characters Van Druten penned, this Bell, Book, and Candle could attain its magic.
AUM: "Paternity Leave"
Theatre AUM's season opened this week with Paternity Leave, an entertaining World Premier original devised work by AUM faculty member and director Neil David Seibel, his second such offering at AUM, the first being Daughters of Abraham two years ago.
Ever since Joan Littlewood's 1963 landmark Oh, What a Lovely War! initiated "devised" works in a modern format to satirize current socio-political issues, devising scripts and performances has been a part of many university theatre curricula, often utilizing improvizational techniques that range from the Italian Renaissance's commedia dell'arte to Viola Spolin's theatre games, and encouraging directors, actors, playwrights, dramaturgs and designers to emphasize collaboration in reaching a finished product, whether in classroom exercises or in fully mounted productions.
In Paternity Leave, Mr. Seibel has a talented ensemble of five actors: Mark Dasinger, Jr. plays Joe, Samantha Blakely plays Malin, and Amber Baldwin, Chris Howard, and Erica Johnson each plays a variety of roles in a clever story of gender reversal where an American man [Joe] -- who is married to a Swedish wife [Malin] -- becomes pregnant, with all the standard baggage of physical discomfort, unusual bodily functions, and mood swings that traditionally impact women.
The young couple have moved to Sweden; it is there that socialized medicine makes the cost of pregnancy and childbirth far more "affordable" [read: "virtually free"] than the current average American price-tag of somewhere between $6,000 and $10,000. However, the Swedish system is not without its encumbrances of bureaucratic minutiae that Joe and Malin must handle as best they can.
There are some serious matters here regarding health care in the United States, most of which are covered in dinner-time conversations comparing American and European systems, but these pass rather quickly, and there is little time for audiences to assimilate the impact of Obamacare and the passions it arouses.
Mr. Seibel's company have chosen instead to focus most of the production's 80 minutes on the comedic elements of Joe's predicament, with only subtle references to the seriousness of health care. His "Holy shit, I'm pregnant!" sums it up nicely, and we are treated to several telling elements of familiarity: morning sickness, a sweet moment when the baby first moves inside him, his water breaking signaled by the ensemble throwing water balloons.
While they manipulate designer Michael Krek's set pieces that transform locations easily, and handle some clever props [flying a kite and holding a cut-out airplane exterior], and sing and dance in what appear to have been improvised through the rehearsal process, the energetic and committed performances occasionally blur stage focus and vocal clarity.
The production has an intended improvizational feel that combines several theatrical styles: realism, surrealism, music-hall, et al. -- And the ensemble shift gears comfortably throughout. -- Mr. Seibel, dramaturg(e) Christy Hutcheson, and the actors have put so much on the plate that it is difficult at times to digest it all. Jared Peregoy's "text message" projections often contain important commentary and some international "in jokes" about football/soccer, and certainly target current trends in communication; but they pass very quickly and split audience focus from the stage action.
Paternity Leave marks another of Theatre AUM's projects that offer excellent educational theatre exposure to its students and audiences; "devised" theatre deserves a place in contemporary theatre programs, and this project helps cement AUM's commitment to cutting-edge best practices.
Ever since Joan Littlewood's 1963 landmark Oh, What a Lovely War! initiated "devised" works in a modern format to satirize current socio-political issues, devising scripts and performances has been a part of many university theatre curricula, often utilizing improvizational techniques that range from the Italian Renaissance's commedia dell'arte to Viola Spolin's theatre games, and encouraging directors, actors, playwrights, dramaturgs and designers to emphasize collaboration in reaching a finished product, whether in classroom exercises or in fully mounted productions.
In Paternity Leave, Mr. Seibel has a talented ensemble of five actors: Mark Dasinger, Jr. plays Joe, Samantha Blakely plays Malin, and Amber Baldwin, Chris Howard, and Erica Johnson each plays a variety of roles in a clever story of gender reversal where an American man [Joe] -- who is married to a Swedish wife [Malin] -- becomes pregnant, with all the standard baggage of physical discomfort, unusual bodily functions, and mood swings that traditionally impact women.
The young couple have moved to Sweden; it is there that socialized medicine makes the cost of pregnancy and childbirth far more "affordable" [read: "virtually free"] than the current average American price-tag of somewhere between $6,000 and $10,000. However, the Swedish system is not without its encumbrances of bureaucratic minutiae that Joe and Malin must handle as best they can.
There are some serious matters here regarding health care in the United States, most of which are covered in dinner-time conversations comparing American and European systems, but these pass rather quickly, and there is little time for audiences to assimilate the impact of Obamacare and the passions it arouses.
Mr. Seibel's company have chosen instead to focus most of the production's 80 minutes on the comedic elements of Joe's predicament, with only subtle references to the seriousness of health care. His "Holy shit, I'm pregnant!" sums it up nicely, and we are treated to several telling elements of familiarity: morning sickness, a sweet moment when the baby first moves inside him, his water breaking signaled by the ensemble throwing water balloons.
While they manipulate designer Michael Krek's set pieces that transform locations easily, and handle some clever props [flying a kite and holding a cut-out airplane exterior], and sing and dance in what appear to have been improvised through the rehearsal process, the energetic and committed performances occasionally blur stage focus and vocal clarity.
The production has an intended improvizational feel that combines several theatrical styles: realism, surrealism, music-hall, et al. -- And the ensemble shift gears comfortably throughout. -- Mr. Seibel, dramaturg(e) Christy Hutcheson, and the actors have put so much on the plate that it is difficult at times to digest it all. Jared Peregoy's "text message" projections often contain important commentary and some international "in jokes" about football/soccer, and certainly target current trends in communication; but they pass very quickly and split audience focus from the stage action.
Paternity Leave marks another of Theatre AUM's projects that offer excellent educational theatre exposure to its students and audiences; "devised" theatre deserves a place in contemporary theatre programs, and this project helps cement AUM's commitment to cutting-edge best practices.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
WOBT: "Collected Stories"
In one of its strongest offerings in recent memory, the Way Off Broadway Theatre in Prattville is showing Donald Margulies' 1996 Pulitzer nominated two-character play, Collected Stories, directed with confidence by Amanda E. Haldy.
Tracing a six-year relationship between an established writer/professor Ruth [Teri Sweeney] and her young graduate student protege Lisa [Curtia Torbert], Ms. Haldy signals a familiar theme in such relationships by using an on-stage visual projection that quotes Oscar Wilde, in part "Every disciple takes away something from his master"; and it is that "takes away" that reverberates in multiple meanings -- (a) to learn by example, (b) to imitate, (c) to steal -- as we witness their ambitions, conflicts and rivalries as the young woman's confidence grows under her mentor's guidance.
What begins as a tutorial in which Ruth offers sound advice to fledgling writer Lisa's over-eager hero-worship -- "Listen...don't take notes", "Ask the right questions", "Nothing (in writing) is arbitrary", "Art is an exaggeration of the truth", "Don't be autobiographical--we all rummage from others" -- becomes a gradual mutual admiration and trust with each woman confiding in the other to unforseen and disastrous effect. -- At one point, Ruth tells Lisa of her relationship with Beat-generation writer Delmore Schwartz -- her "shining moment" that she has never written about because "some things you don't touch". -- When Lisa's first novel conscripts Ruth's story as a first-person fictional narrative, Ruth feels betrayed while Lisa believes it to be a tribute to her mentor.
Many of us can relate to such a relationship; we've had mentors whom we admire and who tell us the truth for good or ill; and we want to please them while never quite escaping their unintentionally intimidating presences. -- Here, the veteran Ms. Sweeney's thoroughly convincing behavior, her off-handed remarks, her generosity in sharing the stage with Ms. Torbert, her exquisite delivery of dialogue with such natural comfort one would hardly believe she was acting, and the journey she takes in coming to grips with growing older and an unspecified illness, make for one of the most truthful and subtle characterizations seen recently in the River Region.
Ms. Torbert -- an Alabama State University student -- holds the stage with Ms. Sweeney. Though her opening gambits as an over-the-top admirer seem more like a young teenager than a graduate student, they serve as a fine contrast to her development into a more mature woman and a better writer than she was at the beginning. Her transformation in the two hours playing time is so striking that she seems hardly to be the same person, as she has adjusted her voice and posture to accommodate the six year time span of the action.
And together, they produce a convincingly complex relationship that has audiences enthralled.
There are a few things to quibble about in this production: Steven Jay Navarre's excellently rendered set could better reflect the bohemian aspect of Greenwich Village by narrowing the broad expanse of stage and adding more clutter to Ruth's apartment; "projections" that signal each scene contain a lot of unnecessary small print content that is generally covered in the dialogue; scene changes could be more efficient; there are a number of indulgent moments that garner laughs without furthering either plot or character. But none of these detract from its overall strength.
Tracing a six-year relationship between an established writer/professor Ruth [Teri Sweeney] and her young graduate student protege Lisa [Curtia Torbert], Ms. Haldy signals a familiar theme in such relationships by using an on-stage visual projection that quotes Oscar Wilde, in part "Every disciple takes away something from his master"; and it is that "takes away" that reverberates in multiple meanings -- (a) to learn by example, (b) to imitate, (c) to steal -- as we witness their ambitions, conflicts and rivalries as the young woman's confidence grows under her mentor's guidance.
What begins as a tutorial in which Ruth offers sound advice to fledgling writer Lisa's over-eager hero-worship -- "Listen...don't take notes", "Ask the right questions", "Nothing (in writing) is arbitrary", "Art is an exaggeration of the truth", "Don't be autobiographical--we all rummage from others" -- becomes a gradual mutual admiration and trust with each woman confiding in the other to unforseen and disastrous effect. -- At one point, Ruth tells Lisa of her relationship with Beat-generation writer Delmore Schwartz -- her "shining moment" that she has never written about because "some things you don't touch". -- When Lisa's first novel conscripts Ruth's story as a first-person fictional narrative, Ruth feels betrayed while Lisa believes it to be a tribute to her mentor.
Many of us can relate to such a relationship; we've had mentors whom we admire and who tell us the truth for good or ill; and we want to please them while never quite escaping their unintentionally intimidating presences. -- Here, the veteran Ms. Sweeney's thoroughly convincing behavior, her off-handed remarks, her generosity in sharing the stage with Ms. Torbert, her exquisite delivery of dialogue with such natural comfort one would hardly believe she was acting, and the journey she takes in coming to grips with growing older and an unspecified illness, make for one of the most truthful and subtle characterizations seen recently in the River Region.
Ms. Torbert -- an Alabama State University student -- holds the stage with Ms. Sweeney. Though her opening gambits as an over-the-top admirer seem more like a young teenager than a graduate student, they serve as a fine contrast to her development into a more mature woman and a better writer than she was at the beginning. Her transformation in the two hours playing time is so striking that she seems hardly to be the same person, as she has adjusted her voice and posture to accommodate the six year time span of the action.
And together, they produce a convincingly complex relationship that has audiences enthralled.
There are a few things to quibble about in this production: Steven Jay Navarre's excellently rendered set could better reflect the bohemian aspect of Greenwich Village by narrowing the broad expanse of stage and adding more clutter to Ruth's apartment; "projections" that signal each scene contain a lot of unnecessary small print content that is generally covered in the dialogue; scene changes could be more efficient; there are a number of indulgent moments that garner laughs without furthering either plot or character. But none of these detract from its overall strength.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Faulkner: "The Baker's Wife"
The Baker's Wife has an admirable pedigree in its book by Joseph Stein and music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz, and has had a cult following for decades without ever having a Broadway run; and now director Jason Clark South is bringing it to Montgomery audiences at the Faulkner Dinner Theatre, with admirable musical direction by Marilyn Swears and the assorted talents of his cast of Faulkner students and alumni along with members of the local community.
Based on Jean Giono's 1932 novella Jean le Bleu and a 1938 film by Marcel Pagnol titled La Femme du Boulanger, this 2-hour and 40-minute production of The Baker's Wife recounts the tale of an older man and his young wife as he takes up the position of baker in a small town that has been without fresh bread since the departure of its former baker. -- Their December/May marriage will predictably be threatened, first by the townspeople's believing the baker's wife to be his daughter, and then by the persistence of a younger man for her affection.
Several sub-plots involve pairs of locals whose petty arguments disrupt the harmony of the town and afford the authors numerous occasions for social criticism on marriage and adultery, morality and expedience, religion and science. The frankness of the script in these matters is handled tentatively in this production, resulting in sanitizing the darker elements and making the story and its characters more innocent than the text indicates.
The story rambles a lot in analyzing themes of recrimination and forgiveness, and takes far too long to establish every relationship, making it hard to sustain interest; however, what holds it together is Schwartz's haunting musical score -- an array of solos, duets, quartets, and choruses -- and lyrics that both further the plot and provide emotional contexts for the characters.
The production is strongest in its principal roles of Amiable Castagnet [Chris Kelly], his wife Genevieve [Mara Woddail], and her young lover Dominique [Brandtley McDonald]; all are fine singers whose vocal range and clarity serve them well.
Mr. Kelly and Ms. Woddail establish the fragility of their relationship with his eagerness to please her and her unwillingness to hurt his feelings. Mr. Kelly's persistent optimism, and his "denial" that his wife has cheated on him, lives up to his name -- "amiable" [though both in the program and in the on-stage pronunciation becomes "Aimable", a more than unfortunate oversight; there are numerous mispronunciations throughout that a dialect coach could rectify].
Their Act I duets, "Merci Madame" and "Gifts of Love" are heartbreaking in counterpoint to Mr. McDonald's powerfully committed declaration of love for her in "Proud Lady". Impressive all.
Ms. Woddail's delivery of "Meadowlark", a climactic plot moment in which she weighs her options of staying with her husband or running off with the younger man, is a high point in the drama as well as in the performance. When she determines to run away, Amiable and the town almost collapse.
The fickle townspeople, more concerned with their bread supply than with the well-being of their new neighbors, provide occasional tidbits of humor, and their choral numbers fill the room vividly.
Amiable meanwhile seems resigned to his fate in "If I Have to Live Alone", a simply delivered, dispassionate declaration that now his life is meaningless. Well done, Mr. Kelly.
There is a bittersweet reconciliation at the end, and almost all the townspeople settle their differences.
The Faulkner stage holds another set with large moveable pieces that are manipulated smoothly during the scene changes so the action runs without interruption or dead-time. Congratulations.
Based on Jean Giono's 1932 novella Jean le Bleu and a 1938 film by Marcel Pagnol titled La Femme du Boulanger, this 2-hour and 40-minute production of The Baker's Wife recounts the tale of an older man and his young wife as he takes up the position of baker in a small town that has been without fresh bread since the departure of its former baker. -- Their December/May marriage will predictably be threatened, first by the townspeople's believing the baker's wife to be his daughter, and then by the persistence of a younger man for her affection.
Several sub-plots involve pairs of locals whose petty arguments disrupt the harmony of the town and afford the authors numerous occasions for social criticism on marriage and adultery, morality and expedience, religion and science. The frankness of the script in these matters is handled tentatively in this production, resulting in sanitizing the darker elements and making the story and its characters more innocent than the text indicates.
The story rambles a lot in analyzing themes of recrimination and forgiveness, and takes far too long to establish every relationship, making it hard to sustain interest; however, what holds it together is Schwartz's haunting musical score -- an array of solos, duets, quartets, and choruses -- and lyrics that both further the plot and provide emotional contexts for the characters.
The production is strongest in its principal roles of Amiable Castagnet [Chris Kelly], his wife Genevieve [Mara Woddail], and her young lover Dominique [Brandtley McDonald]; all are fine singers whose vocal range and clarity serve them well.
Mr. Kelly and Ms. Woddail establish the fragility of their relationship with his eagerness to please her and her unwillingness to hurt his feelings. Mr. Kelly's persistent optimism, and his "denial" that his wife has cheated on him, lives up to his name -- "amiable" [though both in the program and in the on-stage pronunciation becomes "Aimable", a more than unfortunate oversight; there are numerous mispronunciations throughout that a dialect coach could rectify].
Their Act I duets, "Merci Madame" and "Gifts of Love" are heartbreaking in counterpoint to Mr. McDonald's powerfully committed declaration of love for her in "Proud Lady". Impressive all.
Ms. Woddail's delivery of "Meadowlark", a climactic plot moment in which she weighs her options of staying with her husband or running off with the younger man, is a high point in the drama as well as in the performance. When she determines to run away, Amiable and the town almost collapse.
The fickle townspeople, more concerned with their bread supply than with the well-being of their new neighbors, provide occasional tidbits of humor, and their choral numbers fill the room vividly.
Amiable meanwhile seems resigned to his fate in "If I Have to Live Alone", a simply delivered, dispassionate declaration that now his life is meaningless. Well done, Mr. Kelly.
There is a bittersweet reconciliation at the end, and almost all the townspeople settle their differences.
The Faulkner stage holds another set with large moveable pieces that are manipulated smoothly during the scene changes so the action runs without interruption or dead-time. Congratulations.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Red Door: "See Rock City"
On a compact unit set depicting the front porch of a rural 1940s Kentucky house complete with a period appropriate green-painted glider and metal chairs, director Tom Salter's sensitive production of See Rock City takes the stage at the Red Door Theatre in Union Springs.
With an ensemble of four experienced actors at his disposal, Mr. Salter takes an unremarkable script and imbues it with a sense of urgency that connects the time in American history that changed the country critically with today.
It is 1944 at the start of the play, and Raleigh [Joseph Crawford] and May [Eve Harmon] return from their honeymoon in Rock City, TN to live with May's parents while she takes up a job as principal at a local school. Raleigh suffers from epilepsy (though one would never suspect it) and can therefore neither serve in the army during World War II -- a constant source of friction with the local townspeople and with his mother Mrs. Brummett [Beth Egan] who sees him as a slacker and denies there is anything otherwise wrong with him -- nor can he hold a traditional job while writing stories that bring in some money on their occasional publication. May's mother Mrs. Gill [Kim Graham] offers gentle encouragement and homespun wisdom, serving as a kind of mediator when the couple's concerns with jobs, money, the war, and starting a family threaten to split them apart, especially when in Act II, May loses her position so returning war heroes can have jobs.
The story comes with several predictable outcomes, but the acting company does credit to its occasional sentimentalized aspects and rises above the one-note characterizations by breathing substantial credibility to the text, leaving audiences accepting of the relationships and understanding the difficulties confronting them: the unfairness of a society that does not see women as equals, people in various stages of denial, the devastating effects of war on the home front, the fear of personal and professional rejection, traditional roles of men and women in conflict with the realities of life. -- And through it all, the script affords the acting company many opportunities to face these obstacles with humor and acceptance.
Despite some lengthy scene changes and an unwaveringly steady pace (especially in a number of prolonged scenes that cry out for editing), See Rock City's actors touch our hearts with their honest depictions, and make us realize that the simple things that mold us -- home, family, love -- are the universals that give value to our lives.
With an ensemble of four experienced actors at his disposal, Mr. Salter takes an unremarkable script and imbues it with a sense of urgency that connects the time in American history that changed the country critically with today.
It is 1944 at the start of the play, and Raleigh [Joseph Crawford] and May [Eve Harmon] return from their honeymoon in Rock City, TN to live with May's parents while she takes up a job as principal at a local school. Raleigh suffers from epilepsy (though one would never suspect it) and can therefore neither serve in the army during World War II -- a constant source of friction with the local townspeople and with his mother Mrs. Brummett [Beth Egan] who sees him as a slacker and denies there is anything otherwise wrong with him -- nor can he hold a traditional job while writing stories that bring in some money on their occasional publication. May's mother Mrs. Gill [Kim Graham] offers gentle encouragement and homespun wisdom, serving as a kind of mediator when the couple's concerns with jobs, money, the war, and starting a family threaten to split them apart, especially when in Act II, May loses her position so returning war heroes can have jobs.
The story comes with several predictable outcomes, but the acting company does credit to its occasional sentimentalized aspects and rises above the one-note characterizations by breathing substantial credibility to the text, leaving audiences accepting of the relationships and understanding the difficulties confronting them: the unfairness of a society that does not see women as equals, people in various stages of denial, the devastating effects of war on the home front, the fear of personal and professional rejection, traditional roles of men and women in conflict with the realities of life. -- And through it all, the script affords the acting company many opportunities to face these obstacles with humor and acceptance.
Despite some lengthy scene changes and an unwaveringly steady pace (especially in a number of prolonged scenes that cry out for editing), See Rock City's actors touch our hearts with their honest depictions, and make us realize that the simple things that mold us -- home, family, love -- are the universals that give value to our lives.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
ASU at The Cloverdale Playhouse: "The Brothers Size"
Since its 2007 debut in New York at the Public Theatre, Tarell Alvin McCraney's The Brothers Size has gone on to acclaim on both sides of the Atlantic. The still in his 30s playwright's award winning drama was given a resounding Alabama premier recently at The Cloverdale Playhouse.
Under Alabama State University Theatre instructor Anthony Stockard's capable direction, featuring a tight ensemble of ASU alumni, the production took otherwise commonplace themes of the search for manhood, and the meanings of brotherhood, freedom, and friendship to new heights.
As McCraney's script connects the Yoruba culture to modern day America, Mr. Stockard emphasizes it by introducing the play with a stunning dance choreographed by Desmond Holland and authentically costumed by ASU faculty member Ramona Ward, with James Tredway's striking lighting effects. In it, three Yoruba gods -- Ogun [the strong], Ochussi [the wanderer], and Elgeba [the trickster], guided by Egungun [an ancestral shaman] -- establish their interdependence, and are then transformed into the characters of the play who not only share their names, but take on their characteristics.
And we are in an auto repair shop in Louisiana run by Ogun Size [Sayyed Shabazz] as his younger brother Ochussi [Cameron Marcuse] arrives on his release from jail looking to reconnect with the world and experience the freedom he longs for without taking on much in the way of responsibility. Matters are tense from the start, with each brother tip-toeing his way in establishing an adult relationship, with long-term mistrust and animosity just under the surface.
They are joined by Elegba [Aeriel Ventrano], a former inmate with Ochussi; they have a prison-bound kinship that borders on brotherhood, but Elegba's behavior tests all their relationships, and the Yoruba culture that frames the play is ever present.
Freedom for Elegba is symbolized by a car that both Elegba and Ogun are party to providing, and his dreams of driving everywhere to experience all that life has in store, brings about some gritty performances by this ensemble. Family issues, sibling rivalries, honesty, world-weariness, brushes with the law, desire for women, drugs, and music all play their parts in a riveting production that has audiences shifting allegiances throughout. When tough choices must be made for each one's survival, we somehow approve of them, no matter how difficult.
Mr. Stockard keeps the action flowing smoothly throughout the play's many scene changes, all done flawlessly with shifts of furniture, [though the action and themes might have been more effective without an intermission] and affords each of his actors some humanizing moments of sometimes coarse humor that mix well with the ritualistic elements of high seriousness as the brothers come to grips with things that matter most: their own brotherly bond and the realization for both that manhood requires compassion and understanding.
Actors Marcuse, Shabazz, and Ventrano compliment one another so well that the ordinary characters they represent become formidable individuals.
Under Alabama State University Theatre instructor Anthony Stockard's capable direction, featuring a tight ensemble of ASU alumni, the production took otherwise commonplace themes of the search for manhood, and the meanings of brotherhood, freedom, and friendship to new heights.
As McCraney's script connects the Yoruba culture to modern day America, Mr. Stockard emphasizes it by introducing the play with a stunning dance choreographed by Desmond Holland and authentically costumed by ASU faculty member Ramona Ward, with James Tredway's striking lighting effects. In it, three Yoruba gods -- Ogun [the strong], Ochussi [the wanderer], and Elgeba [the trickster], guided by Egungun [an ancestral shaman] -- establish their interdependence, and are then transformed into the characters of the play who not only share their names, but take on their characteristics.
And we are in an auto repair shop in Louisiana run by Ogun Size [Sayyed Shabazz] as his younger brother Ochussi [Cameron Marcuse] arrives on his release from jail looking to reconnect with the world and experience the freedom he longs for without taking on much in the way of responsibility. Matters are tense from the start, with each brother tip-toeing his way in establishing an adult relationship, with long-term mistrust and animosity just under the surface.
They are joined by Elegba [Aeriel Ventrano], a former inmate with Ochussi; they have a prison-bound kinship that borders on brotherhood, but Elegba's behavior tests all their relationships, and the Yoruba culture that frames the play is ever present.
Freedom for Elegba is symbolized by a car that both Elegba and Ogun are party to providing, and his dreams of driving everywhere to experience all that life has in store, brings about some gritty performances by this ensemble. Family issues, sibling rivalries, honesty, world-weariness, brushes with the law, desire for women, drugs, and music all play their parts in a riveting production that has audiences shifting allegiances throughout. When tough choices must be made for each one's survival, we somehow approve of them, no matter how difficult.
Mr. Stockard keeps the action flowing smoothly throughout the play's many scene changes, all done flawlessly with shifts of furniture, [though the action and themes might have been more effective without an intermission] and affords each of his actors some humanizing moments of sometimes coarse humor that mix well with the ritualistic elements of high seriousness as the brothers come to grips with things that matter most: their own brotherly bond and the realization for both that manhood requires compassion and understanding.
Actors Marcuse, Shabazz, and Ventrano compliment one another so well that the ordinary characters they represent become formidable individuals.
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