Faulkner: "Les Miserables"

At roughly 2.5 hours, the relentless pace of the Faulkner University Dinner Theatre's production of Les Miserables, the international record-breaking musical, only rarely slows down. -- Spurred, no doubt, by the play's success since its original 1984 opening in London, and the recent blockbuster film, Faulkner's co-directors Angela Dickson and Jason Clark South are filling the house in the four week run of this most ambitious undertaking: non-stop action for some 31 actors, a demanding orchestral and vocal musical score, numerous large scene changes, and hardly a break from heightened emotions.

It is fair to say that while Faulkner's theatre is no match for the huge scale of a major Broadway house or a big-screen film, there are moments here that capture its power with the Chorus in full voice in the signature "Peoples' Song" and "One Day More", as they fill Matt Dickson's simple evocative set with strong harmonies and emotional power.

Victor Hugo's novel on which the musical is based covers the vast sweep of the French Revolution and its clarion call for "Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite" that can still be felt today in clear social and economic distinctions between the haves and have-nots; but the Revolution recedes somewhat when it concentrates on the personal stories of the people of little consequence.

The plot revolves around Jean Valjean [Brandtley McDonald] in his attempt to change his life after being released from a 19-year prison sentence for a petty crime, and given a second chance by a benevolent Bishop [Patrick Hale]. Pursued by Inspector Javert [Matt Dickson] for breaking his parole, Valjean (under an assumed name) helps a destitute woman Fantine [Jesse Alston] and rescues her daughter Cosette from the con-artist innkeepers Thenardier [Chris Kelly] and Mme. Thenardier [Mara Woddail]. Ten years later when Cosette grows up [Brittney Johnston], she falls in love with Marius [Blake Williams], one of the revolutionaries under the leadership of the charismatic Enjolras [David Rowland].

Valjean's moral dilemma is often tested: "Who am I?" is a refrain frequently heard as he questions whether to save others or himself, keeping secrets or telling the truth, duty to the Revolution or to his promise to Fantine. And he has an impact on other characters, especially Javert, who face similar, if opposite conditions.

There is a paucity of spoken dialogue in Les Miz; more operatic in structure, the bulk of plot action, character development, and social commentary are carried in music and song lyrics.

Quality singing has become a hallmark of Faulkner's productions, and so it is here in most of the featured roles as well as the aforementioned Chorus. -- Musical Director Marilyn Swears and Conductor of the fine nine-member pit orchestra Andrew Cook support the actors without overwhelming them, though only the principal actors are "miked", rendering a lot of the lyrics assigned to supporting roles (lines which contain essential plot details) completely inaudible.

As the inkeepers, Mr.Kelly and Ms. Woddail invest in the disarming comic properties of "Master of the House", making their more greedy elements in Act II more pronounced.

Eponine [Alicia Ruth Jackson], caught between devotion to the Revolution and love for Marius, delivers an exquisite "On My Own", but is otherwise given little emphasis in this production through unfortunate staging and vocal amplification in the second act.

While the romantic chemistry between Cosette and Marius is lessened by Mr. Williams's rigid postures, Ms. Johnston makes the most of her lyrical soprano voice and her absolute emotional commitment to Marius as well as to her protector, Valjean. Long overdue a role of this stature, Ms. Johnston brings you to tears and admiration.

Ms. Alston as Fantine can break hearts with "I Dreamed a Dream", so much that when Fantine dies midway through Act I, her presence is felt long after.

Young Matthew Klinger plays Gavroche, the urchin who proclaims with conviction "I run this town" with impressive maturity.

Mr. Rowland brings to the stage the full-package that sets a high bar in playing Enjolras. He commands every scene he is in without stealing focus, urging the revolutionaries with a passionate swagger that charismatically engages the audience with the on-stage action. Every inch the leader physically and vocally, Mr. Rowland's credibility is never in doubt and is one of the most solid portrayals on Faulkner's stage.

Mr. Dickson's Javert is a powerful antgagonist whose obsession in tracking down Valjean is his sole raison d'etre.  Mr. Dickson's threatening demeanor becomes gradually more introspective as Javert wrestles with Valjean's compassion towards him, finally reducing him to self-doubt and a feeling of worthlessness. -- It is in their scenes together that we feel most strongly the inmpact of the Revolution on individual lives, as both men contend with doubts that take them in opposite directions -- suicide and salvation.

Valjean is Hugo's hero, and the protagonist whose journey is central to everything else as he influences all the other characters. Mr. McDonald takes on the task of carrying the show on his capable shoulders. He has a powerful voice that almost overwhelms in the opening of Act I, that one wonders if he has anything in reserve for later on; but he does, and in the quieter moments ("Valjean's Prayer", for example) exhibits vocal control and emotional credibility. -- This role is a test in a way, and demonstrates that Mr. McDonald is on his way to becoming as fine an actor as he is a singer.

There is a lot of bombast in Les Miserables -- military and patriotic grandstanding, for example, combined with melodramatic romanticism; and while many of the crowd scenes involving French citizens and prostitutes are self-consciously staged with only modest commitment to creating stories of believable characters, the overall impact is achieved. Les Miz aficionados ought to be pleased by the musical presentations, and everyone will feel the impact of the Faulkner production's efforts.

Wetumpka Depot: "Blithe Spirit"

With Noel Coward's Blithe Spirit to end their 33rd Season, the Wetumpka Depot Players have mounted their second-in-a-row "improbable farce in three acts" (Michael Frayn's Noises Off was a hit this Summer), much to the delight of local audiences who might need a bit of levity to counterbalance the government shutdown, much as British theatre-goers needed relief in 1941 at the brink of World War II.

With his career in full swing between the Wars (he penned some 140 plays, hundreds of songs, films, and numerous cabaret acts over several decades), Coward often directed and starred in his glittering comedies of manners, many of which have a decidedly dark side underneath the urbane wit and sharp-edged dialogue that were his trademarks.

At the Depot, a few technical glitches and tentative dialogue sometimes slowed down the rapid pace demanded by farce, but with their first weekend under their belts, Director William Harper's multi-talented seven-character ensemble should be settling in to what promises to be a full-out laugh riot.

Charles Condomine [Lee Bridges] and his second wife Ruth [Cheryl Kiser] are hosting a dinner party whose guest of honor is Madame Arcati [Fiona Macleod], a bungling eccentric bohemian mystic who has been asked to conduct a seance for them, not aware that the Condomines and their guests, Dr. and Mrs. Bradman [Michael Dilaura and Sherida Black] are thorough skeptics, and that Charles has invited her merely to learn "a few tricks of the trade" for a book he is writing about the occult. They have all agreed to pretend to be interested believers so as not to upset Madame Arcati.

Before their guests arrive, the Condomines do their best to instruct their new maid Edith [Meghan Ducote] on the polite ways to serve, and their conversation over several martinis turns to Charles's first wife Elvira -- a beautiful young free-spirited woman (and the polar opposite of Ruth) -- who died seven years ago, but who is often on both their minds.

So, it should come as no surprise when Madame Arcati unexpectedly conjures the spirit of Elvira [Leanna Wallace] who only Charles can see or hear, and whose presence creates some of the most outlandishly comical misunderstandings. -- And a major problem: whether or not (and then how) to get rid of Elvira who shows no signs of leaving. -- The scenes with Charles and his two wives are skillfully managed, with Elvira outwitting Ruth and Ruth bewildered by Charles's apparent acceptance of Elvira's ghost into their lives. The women heap verbal abuse on one another, and Charles contributes his own barbs. It seems that neither marriage is complete bliss.

Mr. Harper has some fine veteran actors at his disposal, and some relative newcomers as well. Mr. Dilaura makes a solid acting debut as Dr. Bradman; as he is paired with Ms. Black's flighty Mrs. Bradman, they make a good pair of foils for the more sophisticated Condomines. -- Ms. Ducote's overly eager to please Edith, scurries about and makes more messes than are obvious from the start. Her part in  resolving the play's conflict is cleverly done.

Ms. Wallace makes a return to the Depot after "a 10 year hiatus", appearing here in the ghostly mode of a silver dress and wearing a "reverb" lavaliere microphone to make her voice seem other-worldly. And, for a long-departed wanderer, Elvira has some very worldly desires as she tries to win Charles back by devious means that backfire. (You'll have to see the play to understand.)

Mr. Bridges and Ms. Kiser thoroughly assume their roles; they appear so comfortable with one another, that we believe instantly that they are a married couple; and their completely natural speaking and movement complete the picture.

But it is Ms. Macleod's portrayal of Madame Arcati that is both Coward's focus and the production's most hilarious characterization. -- As she leaps about in preparation of going into a trance for the seance, or intensely intuits that "someone else is psychic in this house", or girlishly celebrates her "success" in conjuring Elvira (the seance scenes are outrageously funny), or refuses to be downhearted when numerous attempts to remove ghosts from the house are unsuccessful, Ms. Macleod uses her long experience in the theatre to communicate with a sly wink or a pause or a giggle or a posture what lesser actors only wish they could do.

The finely detailed set and period appropriate costumes and music complete the picture as we are transported back to the 1940s in the Depot's joyful production of Blithe Spirit.

Cloverdale Playhouse: "Wait Until Dark"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.