Love Therapy

In an age where every reality TV star thinks he or she is qualified to throw around Freudian terms, psychology and therapy hold a very mainstream place in our culture. Yet what has this inundation of pseudo-psychological information in our lives done to us? Have we lost track of what therapy is really meant to do? This is the central question in Wendy Beckett’s new play Love Therapy, currently playing at the DR2 Theatre near Union Square.

I was first introduced to Australian playwright Wendy Beckett through her play A Charity Case, and quickly realized that she has a lot of fresh ideas. Love Therapy displays a great deal of interesting characters and some nice scenes, though unfortunately the overall arc of the play is not fully satisfying.

Part of this has to do with problems that actually stem from Jo Winiarski’s set design. The stage is a substantial size, but the actors do not have dynamic spaces in which to work, and therefore their blocking often seems un-moored and distracting. This is coupled with the fact that because Jill Nagle’s lighting has taken on some of the work of creating discrete spaces, the actors often necessarily move into darkened spots because of the limited scope of the lights.

When they are lit, Patricia E. Doherty’s costume design has us wondering why a therapist would be wearing an outfit that looks a bit more risqué than one would expect. The shining example on the technical side of the show is Fight Director Brad Lemons, who does an excellent job with some very fantastic fight choreography.

Despite these design problems, the actors do a good job of holding our interest. The supporting actors give solid performances, especially David Bishins’s portrayal of Steven and Janet Zarish’s of Carol and Mary. Margot White plays marriage counselor Colleen Fitzgerald, who believes in a kind of radical love therapy in which genuine emotion takes the place of distant formality.

Unfortunately, though she exhibits the idealism of the character, White does not seem warm and genuine. She is engaging, but director Evan Bergman has not pushed her to exhibit the kind of strength this character needs to portray throughout her sessions. There are, however, a few shining moments for White where I did get a glimpse of how her character could have been with stronger direction.

Of course, the other stumbling block here is the uneven trajectory of the play itself. Beckett writes excellent and interesting individual scenes, but the overall effect is a bit too choppy. The ending was so abrupt that I did not actually believe the play had ended. Yet something about Beckett’s quirkiness kept me engaged and interested in these characters even when I was unsure where the story was going.

The play's questions are pertinent and complex: how can a therapist help if they are detached? Where is the line between emotional and physical intimacy? Has contemporary life inhibited our ability to connect with each other? The answers seem to hinge on Colleen Fitzgerald’s struggle between her powerful position and her weakened emotional state, yet Bergman has not created enough of a contrast between these two parts of the protagonist for this to be fully effective.

Love Therapy is an interesting but ultimately flawed attempt to look at the power dynamics that result in trying to work on romantic relationships like we would any other business transaction. With the help of a good dramaturg and a different design team, this piece could find some strong footing and be a solid piece of theatre. My hope is that it will do just that. 

I Want a Cool Fist Pump

For most people, the role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons does not summon images of people who commit armed robbery. Yet Lynn Rosen’s new play, Goldor $ Mythyka: A Hero is Born, is based on the case of Roger Dillon and Nicole Boyd, “a nice young couple enamored of fantasy role-playing games,” who an armored car of $7.4 million dollars. This is the second play to be produced by the New Georges special initiative known as The Germ Project, which basically asked writers to make plays of “scope and imagination.” G$M certainly qualifies, and the creative visual style of the play makes for an exciting audience experience of an odd story to be sure. Upon entering the New Ohio Theatre, the DJ -- who will be our dungeon master on this journey -- is already on stage spinning some tracks. Bobby Moreno’s DJ is not a bad concept, but it is unfortunate that this is the way that the piece begins, as it is the weakest aspect of the structure in a lot of ways. Director and co-developer Shana Gold seems unsure of what to do with this figure, a DJ/rapper who seems out of place in the world of the play.

Luckily, the other characters, including our “heroes,” Garrett Neergaard’s Bart/Goldor and Jenny Seastone Stern’s Holly/Mythyka, are particularly well cast and utilized. We watch as these two overlooked individuals come alive through the world of Dungeons & Dragons, and their mutual passion for the game becomes a passion for each other. This eventually culminates in their idea of robbing the money transport company for which they both work. The play also projects into the future to imagine what might become of this “Goth Bonnie and Clyde” and their son.

In the midst of this, our dungeon master DJ cuts, spins, and mixes the stories together with the media elements to create a story that not only resembles D&D, but also mimics the experience of being on the internet. I believe that Moreno’s DJ is supposed to invite us into the play, but his persona seemed forced in a way none of the other characters did.

The characters move with ease through the various locations created on Nick Francone’s minimalistic set, which brings to mind a basement, though it also transforms into homes, restaurants, and other places through various moving set pieces. Lenore Doxsee’s lighting design and Tristan Raines’s costume design also continue this aspect of less-is-more conceptualization, and though there are a lot of design elements in the show, they never seem overwhelming.

The show's multimedia structure is impressive; there is an interesting device of projection and live action that reminds me of having many windows open on a single screen at the same time. This engaged approach to the media, designed by Piama Habibullah and Jared Mezzochi, is closely linked to the sound design by Shane Rettig, both of which add to this idea of making the Internet experience a theatrical one. It is a very successful and interesting concept.

Of course, like any new piece, there are a few aspects of this piece that need a bit more attention. Melissa Riker’s choreography was interesting for actors like Stern who clearly have had movement training. Unfortunately, when dealing with actors who look like they can play D&D and who sit in front of their computers a lot, it is quite a challenge to find people who can move gracefully. This made the dance moments less successful than they could have been.

I also had a few questions about the play in general. The most important is this: what are we supposed to think of our heroes? The play vacillates between casting them as glorious underdogs who get revenge and the frightening loners who spend too much time in a fantasy world and eventually snap. I think it’s great that the play doesn’t shirk this complicated balance, but if you’re looking for a play with easy answers, this isn’t it. I do think that this is a very creative piece and one worth watching, especially if you have any knowledge of D&D, LARP, or any other kind of role-playing game. As the Federal Agent says at one point in the show, “I want a cool fist pump,” and if that describes you, then this is one not to miss.

Photo: Garrett Neergaard Jenny Seastone Stern and Bobby Moreno Photo Credit: Jim-Baldassare

Dreams Plus Action

A unicorn made of glass catches the light. Laura is holding it, but this is not The Glass Menagerie . Gone are Laura’s limp, Tom’s struggle with his identity, and several of the other tragic details that color Tennessee Williams’ touching dream play. In its place is The Pretty Trap . The streamlined one-act, penned prior to its better known cousin, replaces the melancholy with the comedic. Cause Célèbre’s production does a nice job of bringing this piece to life. We quickly locate ourselves in the Wingfield’s household through Ray Klausen’s realistic set. Tennessee Williams spends a great deal of time intricately explaining the physical locations of his plays, and though I value the creativity of scenic designers, I am always happy to see that someone has taken the time to respect the playwright’s wishes. David Toser’s costume design and Bernie Dove’s lighting and sound are also well tuned to the realistic and naturalistic demands of the script. The design supports this world, and the characters seem to belong to a pre-war New Orleans.

However, there is one obvious choice that Director Antony Marsellis has made that gives me pause. Though Katharine Houghton has the charm and the vivacity to play Amanda, she is unfortunately a bit too advanced in age to be undertaking this part. Amanda is an aging southern belle, but in order for us to understand how overbearing Amanda is, we need to be bowled over by her energy. Though Houghton does a fine job, I wish I had been able to see her play this role ten or fifteen years ago.

Whereas The Glass Menagerie is Tom’s play, told from his memory, The Pretty Trap is certainly Amanda’s play. She is the ultimate manipulator, the “witch,” which is something that Houghton cannot quite pull off, as her presence is too gentle. This is more a fault of casting than of anything else, and her performance is still strong.

But it is the scene between The Gentleman Caller (Robert Eli) and Laura (Nisi Sturgis) that stands out in this production. As Sturgis overcomes her shy ways, drawn out of her shell by Eli’s friendly optimism, we watch as Laura has the first real emotionally intimate encounter of her life. But unlike the bittersweet conclusion that normally follows this scene, The Pretty Trap allows us to imagine a happier version of events.

Yet this aspect of The Pretty Trap is also, in my opinion, why the play has not had the lasting impact on audiences that The Glass Menagerie has. The happy version of events is nice to watch, but it does not have the emotional impact of the dramatic version. The arc of The Glass Menagerie tells the story of a family full of people who have convinced themselves that getting a suitor for Laura will solve all of their problems. By the time The Gentleman Caller comes, we are invested in this dream right along with the Wingfields. In The Pretty Trap we do not have time to get attached to Laura or Amanda, to know their hopes and dreams, to understand the stakes; not to mention the fact that Tom (Loren Dunn) is barely given a role in this family event.

We are happy at the end of this Williams play, something that cannot often be said. Perhaps this is because we like to see ending full of potentiality, or perhaps because we like to think of what it could have been like if things had been different from the Wingfield story in our heads. The play looks very much like dreams plus actions, just as The Gentleman Caller and then Amanda herself say. Whichever it is, this is a great chance to see a rarely seen Tennessee Williams work in a good production.

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere

As the Irish are known for the gift of gab, it should be no surprise that The Irish Repertory Theatre’s Tryst is full of smooth talking. As an audience member, I found myself so wooed by the characters’ words that I wondered how it would end right up until it in fact ended. Tryst deftly achieves something paradoxically difficult: a clear vision of mystery. Through excellent character work, direction, and design, this production is both beautiful and energized from start to finish. Though at The Irish Repertory Theatre, Tryst is actually the work of British playwright Karoline Leach. It might be set in London and Weston Super Mare, but the play has quite a lot of “Irishness” in it, if you will. I have long been interested in Irish theater, both as a result of my heritage and my theatrical training. So it is that I can tell you some of the characteristics that make Tryst fit in so well. The beautiful language of Irish playwrights is often expressed in monologue form, as is the case in Tryst . Adelaide Pinchin (Andrea Maulella) and George Love (Mark Shanahan) tell their individual stories directly to the audience when not engaged in dialogue. Also, the mixture of comic moments with dramatic content is something often noted in Irish theater. This is certainly present throughout Tryst in a delicate way. We laugh at the situations, but we never laugh at the characters.

Instead, we learn a great deal about the humanity of both Adelaide and George. The performances given by Andrea Maulella and Mark Shanahan are both quite powerful. Shanahan’s self-professed con-man is exceedingly charming, and a good actor himself. In spite of, or perhaps because of, his honesty about his profession, we feel sympathy for him as we watch him lie. As soon as he sees his mark, Maulella’s meek and self-conscious Adelaide, he transforms before our eyes into a distinguished gentleman, complete with an upper class accent.

Maulella is the perfect foil to Shanahan’s bravado, creating a off-centered version of the Laura and Gentleman Caller relationship from The Glass Menagerie . Adelaide is fragile, and George wants to build her up. Yet because the motivations are so different than in the wholesome Tennessee Williams relationship, the audience is relegated to a state of constant questioning of exactly how much each character really knows and cares about the other.

Here I must pause and give credit to director Joe Brancato. It is often hard to see a director’s hand in productions, because all of the positive credit usually is given to actors and designers. But if you look for it, you can see a good director’s subtle shaping of a production. That is the case here. Several times I was struck by the excellent dynamics of the staging. Granted, I was seated so that much of the action faced me. I do wonder how I would feel if I had been seated in the bank of seats to the side. But I cannot stress enough how impressed I am at the visual variety Brancato achieves through blocking only two actors. Also, Brancato is an expert at integrating his actors into the mise en scene, something that is a key to any truly great production.

All the complexities of plot and character are perfectly supplemented by the scenic elements, which fully participate in the juxtaposition of known and unknown elements. Michael Schweikardt’s set is a chameleon. It begins as a stylized series of panels, instantly transporting us to a cold London street. Later we are treated to a much more realistic set, again fully functioning and appropriate. This transformation also owes a great deal to Martin Vreeland’s lighting design, which first creeps through the fog and then brightly reveals what has been hidden. Alejo Vietti’s costume design and Johnna Doty’s sound design are the final key players in this greatly unified design team, and each individual artistic choice forms a coherent whole.

This can be said for every aspect of Tryst . It is rare that I see a production which is so well conceived and executed on all fronts. The play itself is well-written and brings a surprising new take to a type of story that has been told many times before. In short, The Irish Repertory Theatre’s production of Tryst is a fantastic piece of theater, not to be missed. And I’m not just putting you on.

Putting the Man in Manipulate

The beautiful but creepy opening tableau of Cherry Lane Theatre’s production of Manipulation sets the tone for this cerebral production. A woman is lying down. A slowly spreading spotlight on her face gradually reveals several marionettes invading her space. This artistic representation of the greater metaphors of the show is a perfect example of this production’s brave interpretation of Victoria E. Calderon’s American debut. If you are looking for a high-flying (or crashing) action epic, this is not your show. Calderon and Cherry Lane bring you an aesthetically pleasing production of a complex play, making it an exciting prospect for those of you who enjoy the rare delicacies of thought-provoking theater. Set in a place designated only as “Latin America,” Manipulation does an excellent job of literally setting the stage for a story specifically not set in the United States. I am far from an expert on the “Latin American” play, a term that is complicated by the lack of discrete boundaries for Latin America. Yet there are certain aesthetic sensibilities that stand out in all of the Latin American plays that I have read, and it is of vast importance that these themes are being exposed to US audiences in such a well organized production. The most notable of these themes is the palpable violence. Both physical and emotional violence are inflicted on characters in the show, while shadowy camouflaged figures are occasionally seen around the periphery of the action.

This leads me to the overall wonderful design of the show, which does a great deal to facilitate Director Will Pomerantz’s clear stage pictures. Bill Stabile’s towering wooden structure is comprised of sticks, making it seem both permanent and permeable. With the addition of Kirk Bookman’s delicate lighting design and Jeremy Lee’s operatic sound design, the scenic elements are able to play many roles. Sometimes they are as ambiguous as the plot itself.

I can’t pretend that this is an action packed show, so if you are looking for high flying stunts, you should go elsewhere. But if you are ready to be intellectually stimulated, then this is the show for you. Calderon’s protagonist Cristina, well played by Marina Squerciati, is constantly abused by the men around her. The misogynistic power order of this world is clearly established, yet things are not so simple. Despite Cristina’s complaining about her philandering, king-like husband Mauricio (Robert Bogue), Cristina herself has affairs and is free to take extravagant trips to Paris for two months. Nothing in Manipulation is how it seems at first. In the end we must ask ourselves who is being manipulated by whom. Is Cristina the victim?

These questions are posed more often than they are answered. Adding to the mystery are a series of choreographed moments throughout the show that hearken back to the puppets who opened the show. In the midst of realistic dialogue, the highly stylized moments lead us to question what we are seeing. At one time or another each and every actor channels the marionettes. At one point Mauricio is Cristina’s puppet-master, yet again we see that things are not that cut and dry. In a scene towards the end, all of the other people in Cristina’s life are puppets, and Cristina watches them. Is this meant to suggest that everyone else is a puppet, but Cristina is separate? In this instance, Cristina is the only one who can see that she is being manipulated. Or are we to infer that Cristina is actually controlling these people who she sees to have abused her? Characters are constantly telling Cristina that she is the only one who can save herself.

The uncertainty is not disconcerting. In fact, the twists and turns keep the audience engaged, as does some of the eloquent prose. The performance that I saw was peppered with murmurs of appreciation after particularly powerful lines. Every person who goes to the theater secretly hopes for a moment of illumination in the show, a line or a moment that reveals some fundamental truth articulated in a new way. This play delivers. Indeed, this play delivers overall. Combining a solid production with the kind of play too rarely offered to US audiences, Cherry Lane Theatre’s Manipulation is a great night at the theater.

The Rednecking of the Shrew

It’s just like Shakespeare wrote it...with the addition of beer, trucker hats, and country music. This is DMTheatrics’ American Shakespeare Factory and Horse Trade Theater Group’s version of The Taming of the Shrew , and tame it certainly isn’t. This production, currently playing at The Red Room, is actually quite brilliant in concept: a modernized Shrew with a redneck twist. The text sounds oddly perfect in a southern drawl, and with the exception of a few mis-directions, I think that the overall production is strong enough to attract those in search of a new take on an old classic. The entire theater-going experience of this Shrew is decidedly opposed to most people’s conception of Shakespeare. Forget the high brow, folks, this show is about hitting below the belt. I will avoid spoiling the surprise of entering the theater, but suffice it to say that the tone and place are already established by the time we come upon a character watching a Nascar race projected on a screen. The southern accents at first seemed odd, but I quickly realized that they suit the meter quite well. Southern accents are arguably the most musical of our country, and therefore they adeptly support the greater range inflection best suited for Shakespeare.

The actors make good sense of the words, and their actions provide a gentle guide through the story. Occasionally I could not make sense of the words when the musical underscoring, sometimes country, sometimes vintage love themes, was too loud. Indeed, sometimes I found the actors themselves were too loud, flattening out the vocal inflection and muddling together, but this did not happen too often.

The acting is generally strong. Brianna Tyson’s Katharina is wonderfully dynamic as she nails the biting comebacks Shakespeare grants the character while balancing the character’s gentler moments. Likewise, Swiderski’s Petruchio is devilishly charismatic while also dumbly brilliant. Another standout is Kymberly Tuttle’s Tranio, whose comic timing is as wonderful as the gigantic overcoat she uses to disguise herself to Baptista. There is also something very lovable about Joshua Schwartz’s Hortensio, one of the suitors seeking the love of Bianca, also well played by Lindsey Carter.

The only acting I took issue with is that of Edgar Eguia, whose characters seem to be out of place. He is playing for laughs, which he was surely directed to do, but it just doesn’t jibe with the rest of the production. I was taken out of the action as he hammed it up, and I long to see him embrace the almost self-conscious ease of his peers. He is best when matched up with Tuttle when her Tranio attempts to communicate with his Mr. Pedant.

Now would probably be a good time for me to acknowledge that I was curious to see how the final scene would be handled. The speech in which Katharina says “I am ashamed that women are so simple” is one that has plagued feminist scholars for years. Is Shakespeare sexist? Is Katharina tamed? Or is it all an inside joke between Katharina and Petruchio? I’ve seen it played both ways with great success.

This production is particularly good at emphasizing Katharina’s spunk, and her verbal jousting matches with Petruchio are sharp and witty. Yet this final scene is played devoid of irony, and with a sincerity that led me to believe that Katharina had indeed been tamed. In scenes before this it is obvious that she has been wooed, but to go from such fire to such complacency surprised me because I did not see an arc. When we realize that Katharina loves Petruchio, we are also meant to enjoy the power they both have. To play this scene in all honesty does not make sense in this context, for Katharina is not her husband’s servant. She has just redirected her fiery spirit to be more amenable to his comfort, as this production shows. This is the only scene that seems like a misstep.

The design concept of this production is very interesting. If you are going to see this show, be prepared to sit on low bleachers! Again, without ruining the surprise, the audience does not begin on these bleachers, but then moves into the space. Frank Cwiklik, director and designer, has utilized The Red Room theater space to create a versatile set. The most impressive thing about the staging is the ways in which the production chooses to move in and out of the proscenium. The length of the stage allows the actors to be upstage and become perfectly enclosed in a picture-frame proscenium, while being downstage breaks this construct, moving the action into a less constricted space much closer to the audience. This movement brilliantly mirrors greater aspects of the show itself, which breaks out of Shakespeare’s words through repetition and minor additions while then returning from whence it came. This continual referencing of the framing devices, both literal and physical, lends the show its postmodern flair.

After seeing tonight’s production, I’m left slightly curious about the unevenness between the first and second acts. The first act is high energy and never lags, while the second act seems longer and more drawn out. I have a feeling that this energy might have been particular to the performance I attended, and I reference it here to say that I believe that an act two like their act one would be quite a sight to see. So put down your chicken wings (they might give you some at the show) if you want to see a theater group taking risks and doing truly interesting work, and head on over to The Taming of the Shrew .

The Anne Diaries

What would you do if Anne Hathaway stepped out of your TV and began to talk to you? This is the innovative premise of Shawn C. Harris’s creative play Tulpa, or Anne & Me now playing at the Robert Moss Theater. The production has a lot to say with its conversations on the difficult topic of race, but dramaturgically the pacing undercuts the power of the dialogue and plot. It has a lot of potential, but the piece still comes across as a workshop production. Tulpa, or Anne & Me is part of the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity, which consists of 35 productions that are categorized as both philanthropic and green. In this spirit, the space contains only a futon, some drawing materials, and the colorful outline of a TV set. We are introduced to [NAME], in this case “Star” as the character is played by Star Kirkland. She is the author of a comic called “Afrodyke,” and when Anne, played by Rachel Lambert, steps out of the TV seconds later, we discover that Anne is a fan.

We are then privy to a series of scenes in which Star and Anne attempt to connect on an interpersonal level while they are continually blocked by their views on race. These scenes are interspersed with those of Star and the two Guardian Angels of Blackness, played wonderfully by Mia Y. Anderson and Ayo Cummings. These two women work to explore Star’s own relationship with her Blackness, as opposed to the scenes with Anne, which also look at Blackness in relation to Whiteness. Throughout these scenes no tidy answer is implied or given, we are simply lead through a journey that makes us question the assumptions held by ourselves and others. This is Tulpa, or Anne & Me ’s greatest strength, as one of the purposes of theater is to challenge our views and expand our minds.

Where the production falters is in the pacing and timing. Part of this is actually due to the structure of the story, in which each scene contains its own climax while the story itself does not have a consistent arc. Director Sara Lyons does an excellent job of giving some of the scenes, especially those between Star and Anne, “realistic” pacing. The actors speak with the stops, starts, and pauses of normal conversation. It is rather startling to see this done on stage, and at first I thought that the actors were having trouble with their lines. When I realized it was a choice, I worried how that damaged the power of the play as a medium. When something is on stage, it is automatically not “realistic,” so instead it is up to the director to find the best pacing and tone for the piece to convey its message. In this case, her choices leave the piece feeling very long, even though it does not even run to its advertised 90 minute mark.

In between the breathy sighs and frequent pauses, I still believe that Tulpa, or Anne & Me has a certain something. My hope is that the artists can learn from these comments and the experience of this production, and that the piece is looked at dramaturgically before its next run. In the meantime, if you are really interested in issues of race then you should go see this show. At least then you’ll know what to say to Anne Hathaway if she ever climbs slowly out of your TV set.

Neither Saints Nor Winners

The brightly colored wall of the Ideal Glass Gallery, covered in artfully arranged graffiti and clothing, announces that you have reached the home of Saint Hollywood . Unfortunately for them, this eye-catching artwork is the most dynamic part of this deeply flawed show. The strong visual representations on the walls outside and inside the theater are beautiful, but this creative cacophony does not translate to the plot or characters that comprise the piece. To say that Saint Hollywood lacks a plot is both true and misleading. Plot is not necessary for my enjoyment of a show, as sometimes concepts are so powerful that they can form a coherent piece of theater. There is a story in this play, as we follow Willard Morgan on a journey through a cast of characters that populate Hollywood. Rather the problem is that the plot does not support the character. In other words, there is no unifying frame for the piece. We watch Morgan’s failing comedy routines, but we do not have any introduction to him that tells us how we are supposed to feel about this failure.

This problem continues as Morgan takes on the various other characters whose surreal pictures adorn the sides of the theater. Besides the fact that several of these characters seem to be little more than ethnic and gender stereotypes, there is an uneven balance between their stories and Morgan’s. After seeing the video footage that ends the show, I believe that this structure was meant to simulate Morgan’s experience of meeting these individuals. Yet this effect is lost in a one man show, where we never see Morgan seeing these people. They appear, but their function is unclear. And the undercurrents of rascism and misogyny possibly read into a white man playing some of these characters are not considered. The characters are not treated with kindness by their actor, and therefore it is difficult to understand how we are supposed to feel towards them.

Perhaps this is the danger in creating a musical around the idea of a comedian who can’t tell a joke. And a modern musical it is, complete with a live DJ on stage. Unfortunately, just as the video design by Alex Koch and Lucie Jeesun Lee is beautiful but unable to save the show, the DJ’s cutting is a great concept left hanging by unmemorable songs. It's too bad, as the two female cast members, Shannon Antalan and Zoe Rosario, have good voices. These two women are used mostly as decoration, and I am once again puzzled as to their function in the show as a whole.

The trope of great concepts poorly realized seems to be the trademark of Saint Hollywood . At the end of the show, Morgan says that he spends most of his life between the set-up and the punchline. This gap is exactly what is wrong with the show. It needs to decide what it wants to be. I don’t even know how to make suggestions for improvement, because in many ways the whole conceit of the piece is just that, conceited. There is no way to connect with this protagonist, and I’m not sure why we’re watching a show about him. I hope that this is something that Saint Hollywood figures out so that they can improve. In the meantime, look at the beautiful artwork, but then keep on walking.

Tell Me More

Sometimes you really can tell. And I will tell you that T. Schreiber’s production of George Bernard Shaw’s You Never Can Tell is an utterly charming night at the theater. This well-done production does an excellent job of exploring the depths of Shaw’s words, making a somewhat dated play energized and relevant. From the minute the four servants of the play make the curtain speech in the intimate theater, You Never Can Tell endears itself to the audience. Here I must praise Robert Verlaque’s directing for his attention to detail. The simple act of having actors make the cell-phone and safety announcements is a formality that he uses instead to begin to establish character. The four servants are dispersed through the production in a way that proves once again that good characterization means that no part is small.

Of course, once the play has begun, we are introduced to our charismatic protagonist, the dentist Valentine (Lowell Byers). He is pulling out the tooth of an excitable lady named Dolly (Noelle P. Wilson), who is shortly joined by her brother Phil (Seth James). After discovering that the two siblings have no idea who their father is, the set-up for a series of coincidences and many instances of what the program refers to as the “Shavian paradox” (a way of saying the right thing at the wrong time).

The banter is witty and the comedy is drawing room, but it is the actors’ charisma and timing that keeps one engaged. Wilson’s bubbly energy and full commitment are perfectly balanced with James’s ability to switch between co-conspirator and more-mature brother. Their excellent comic timing immediately ingratiates them with the audience, and their duo becomes a solid anchor for the performance. It is by their interactions with these two that we learn what we do about all of the other characters, all of which are well-played in their own right. We see Gloria (Jessica Osborne) in all of her beauty and patience, Walter (Peter Judd) in his extreme affability, and Mrs. Clandon (Lucy Avery Brooke) in her motherly authority.

In the midst of all of the confusion of finding their father, there exists another matter of the heart. The love story between Valentine and Gloria is both humorous and touching. Byers and Osborne have good chemistry, and it is easy to root for them. There is a small matter of a vocal tick, as Osborne is often not “on her voice.” In other words, she does not fully support her words, causing the actress to have an affected manner of speaking that sounds constantly on the brink of tears. This is an understandable character choice, but I think it would be far more successful to be used at certain times, rather than as an overall treatment. But this is not to say that Osborne’s acting does not make up for this weakness, which it does. In a good love story, you should always want the characters to be together, which is precisely what happens here as a direct result of both of these actors.

The actors also have the benefit of a surprisingly versatile set. I say surprisingly because when I first looked at it I had no idea that it was movable. Although it is clear that they are working within budgetary constraints, Chris Minard’s design gives a good enough illusion of wealth. The scene changes sometimes take a bit of time, but it is the actors who do them, and they are therefore pleasant to watch. Andy Cohen’s sound design and Eric Cope’s lighting also help convince us that we are at a seaside resort.

Lucy Avery Brooke’s bio ends with the line, “She is grateful to all for reminding her that good theater is an actor’s best home.” Good theater is an audience member’s and a critic’s best home as well. Shows like You Never Can Tell make me happy. I enjoy seeing talented theater artists producing good work, and leaving with an audience who is smiling and laughing. You never can tell what you’re going to see when you walk into a theater, but you should walk into the Gloria Maddox Theatre and see You Never Can Tell .

Lean Green Satire Machine

If you have no anxiety whatsoever about the future, then go see Future Anxiety . If you worry about the future of humans and this planet already, this play is still for you. The Flea Theater’s new sharp satire features a talented cast, a dynamic set, and plenty of jokes that will make you want to laugh and recycle, simultaneously. From Patrick Metzger’s well placed animalistic noises to Kyle Chepulis’s stream-lined, multi-level set, Future Anxiety immediately sets up an environment. It is the future, and it is not quite what we expected. We are never told the exact year, but we explore this new era through a variety of interconnected storylines. The large cast is excellently directed by Jim Simpson. It is the ensemble’s character development, choreographed movement, and sense of timing that keeps the play moving. Each and every one of the twenty-three person ensemble is like a gear on a fine watch: each individual part is strong, and when you put them together you get a solid piece of work. The actors of The Bats, the resident acting company at The Flea, have an obvious comfort with each other, adding to the coherence of the world on stage.

As I said, there are no weak actors, but I particularly enjoyed Sonia’s (Katherine Folk-Sullivan) storyline. In a place where we often laugh at the absurdity of things, Sonia keeps us grounded in the reality of the human condition, without killing the joke. This delicate balance is well executed by Folk-Sullivan, and I especially enjoyed the easy friendship between Sonia and Mae (Maren Langdon). These scenes bridged the gap between the two major ways of coping with the new world, and I appreciated both actresses for their honesty and connection. The other storylines each have their own memorable characters and moments, which you will just have to see to discover for yourself.

Laurel Haines’s script can seem didactic at times, but weaker moments in the script are enlivened by the actors’ dynamic use of the stage and their bodies. In a script that is so over the top, the movement is clean and streamlined, without being overly stylized. I never felt that actors were moving unnecessarily, or that the overall visual balance of the actors’ placement on the set was off. This embodied energy is especially useful to less developed characters, like Vince (Alex Herrald). Vince is an obviously ruthless business executive, who we first meet as he climbs around the various platforms and wires. We learn he is descending from a tree, which we believe immediately. This decently funny moment of the script is brought to another level through the clever use of space and physical acting. Such moments occur throughout the production.

This unity of visual aesthetics extends beyond the stage at The Flea. The theater has gone green in more than just their theatrical season. They now feature online programs, biodegradable cups for drinks, and recycling options. This commitment is another example of their attention to detail on a grand scale. As the two actors giving the curtain speech explained this paperless process, I thought again of how fitting it is to introduce the new system in this way. The cohesiveness of each element of this production was striking.

Future Anxiety is a decent play, but The Flea’s production goes above and beyond its script. This production manages to create a funny, aesthetically engaging play, which also has an important message. Jim Simpson’s precise direction, The Bats’ solid acting, and the wonderful design make Future Anxiety a great night at the theater. So see it soon, because you never know what the future holds.

A Labyrinth of One's Own

Make no mistake, Epona’s Labyrinth is ruled by neither Pan nor David Bowie. It is instead presided over by a group of physically agile actors, innovative set and costume designs, and well-integrated technology. The plot is complex, but the overall aesthetic qualities of the play are what drive the production forward. I do not pretend to understand every nuance of the narrative, but I do know that this did not (and indeed does not) bother me. The unity of the production as a whole is beautiful to behold, and I greatly appreciate the attention to detail obvious in each moment of the action. HERE’s wonderful space is well utilized by The South Wing and Nibroll art collective, as technology and highly trained actors transform it into a variety of different environments. The basic plot is that Husband (Andrew Shulman) goes to the hospital to search for his wife after she is suddenly taken away in a green ambulance. He immediately begins to have strange experiences, and he is soon deeply imbedded in the strange hospital’s inner workings, which follow the pattern of many a classic myth. The various locations are all established by means of the actors’ bodies and the ingeniously versatile set pieces conceived by designer Shige Moriya. Mitsushi Yanaihara’s surreal costume designs add to the mystery, and the combination of the technical elements achieves an excellent balance with the acting.

As someone who has had a good deal of Suzuki actor training, and who has recently become familiar with Butoh, it is obvious to me that these actors, and Director Kameron Steele, are very familiar with both Suzuki and Butoh. This is evident in the actors’ physical control of their bodies, as well as in the character of the movement itself. Suzuki technique teaches you a great deal about the connection between breathing and motion by teaching you to move from your core. This training, also evident in Butoh, allows actors to achieve fluid motion at a slow pace, and also to execute quick, strong, extreme motions accurately and safely, which is obvious in this production. The set changes often show this slow, controlled movement, while the first scene in the hospital is a perfect example of the crisp, energetic, and highly choreographed chaos possible with physically trained actors.

Mikuni Yanaihara’s choreography is an excellent tool throughout the production, though I must say that the large group scenes are superior to the one-on-one fight moments. Girl (Ximena Garnica), Teen (Kate Villanova), and Head Nurse (Sophia Remolde) are the standout performers in terms of this movement, though Epona (Gillian Chadsey) has a stage presence full of power and authority, even though her choreography is not as involved. All the while Shulman alternates between providing a bodily contrast with the stylization around him, and joining in on it. This precise direction is mirrored in the ways in which props and set changes are handled: a plate slides in under a lifted screen, Garnica is carried in hanging gracefully from a set piece, and each set piece moves easily in the capable hands of the actors.

Another major strength of this production is the integration of technology. The projections, videos, and sounds are characters in the play. From symbolic graphics that seem to subliminally highlight the themes of the scene, to video replays of what we have just seen, the audiovisual elements insert themselves into the scenes in a surprisingly natural way. By “natural” I mean to say that there is no question that these elements belong here, in this world. This also allows the actors to interact with these technical aspects. There is one scene in particular where Villanova’s Teen interacts with the entire stage as she plays a “video game” in which she attacks a certain symbol with a broom.

Now I should also mention that there is a certain amount of adult content in this show, so it is not for children. But if you and your adult friends would like to go see something very creative, aesthetically exciting, and artistically solid, then go ahead and enter the labyrinth. Just remember (as Epona reminds us): from the middle of the labyrinth, every path looks like the exit to freedom.

Shaping Up

Watching Neil LaBute’s The Shape of Things is an interesting experience if you are currently in a graduate program for the arts. I chose to see this play because it is one that I have seen several times in production, and each time I feel differently about the play as a whole. As MFA art student Evelyn manipulates the seemingly innocent Adam, the audience member is left to wonder about the relationship between art and emotional investment. Sometimes I feel like LaBute has no respect for any of the characters in his plays, especially the women (I am not the first person to think this). Other times I feel like he is just testing us, trying to find the limit of human compassion. In Jump for Joy Productions’ debut show, it is obvious that things are shaping up. Though there are some technical issues with the production, the actors gain momentum as the play progresses, ending up with a decent production. Workshop Theater Company’s Jewel Box Theater is decorated with a simple poster of a painting. We are in a museum. This simplicity of design is perfectly suited to the intimate space, and director Renee Rodriguez allows her actors to use the space well, at first. Unfortunately, as the production continues, the set changes and costume changes become too involved for the tiny space, overwhelming it with half-light or blackout periods that are too long. One lone stagehand moves everything, occasionally assisted by an actor. I much prefer the moments where the poster, held to the wall by a single tack, is changed. New picture, new space - it is that simple. The disconnect between the expensive costumes (I saw the J. Crew label on Adam’s jacket) and the understaffed, clunky set changes strikes me as the major weakness in this production.

Yet, at its heart, The Shape of Things is about the people. I have to say that the acting improved considerably throughout the show. I appreciated Adam (Michael Wetherbee) for his awkwardness, and I think he did a nice job transforming throughout the piece. Evelyn (Samantha Payne Garland) handled the final moments of the play better than the actresses in other productions I’ve seen, though I still have not seen anyone play this character believably. Garland still seems to lack the purely cold affect that lurks in the lines. Likewise, Jenny (Mallory Campbell) is initially played as a pure stereotype of a neurotic, pearl-wearing college student.

I agree that the somewhat two dimensional natures of these characters are partially due to LaBute’s lines, but there are ways of overcoming that. This is proven first by the portrayal of Phillip (Nathan Atkinson). Atkinson’s charm is perfect for Phillip, the college student who wears his sunglasses on his head, even at night. Phillip is a stereotype, to be sure, but Atkinson is able to convince us that it is easy to both love and hate Phillip simultaneously. Atkinson and Wetherbee have a wonderful dynamic in Scene 7, where they do homework on the campus lawn. The energy, listening, and interactions in this scene make it the most engaging moment in the production.

Though I think that the men have more consistently strong performances, this is not to say that the women are left in the dust. Campbell’s Jenny has a very strong moment during a speech she gives in Scene 8. Her honest attempt to communicate with Evelyn is emotionally charged without being over the top. In fact, this is a general theme in the production: each emotional outburst seems motivated and has a natural arc. Characters take the time to get angry and cool down, creating a textured unity in the piece as a whole.

I am still unsure as to whether or not I “like” The Shape of Things , and I feel that it is only fair to warn potential viewers about the dark depths of human nature that it explores. I can say that I appreciate a production that considers both sides of this complicated puzzle of emotionality. If the cast starts every performance with the energy they had at the end of the performance tonight, things will keep shaping up for them.

Waist Not, Want Not

I have gone to school around the corner from the former Triangle Shirtwaist Factory for almost a year now, completely unaware of its proximity. After seeing Birds on Fire I walked over from Theater for the New City to what is now the Brown Science building on New York University’s campus, observing it with new eyes. Almost 100 years ago, on March 25, 1911 to be exact, a terrible fire claimed the lives of 146 people. The locked doors, lack of fire escapes, and crowded conditions ended up being the rallying cries for labor reform, causing the fire to be regarded as both a terrible tragedy and an important turning point in New York.

All of this history provides the haunted backdrop for writer and director Barbara Kahn’s Birds on Fire , which creatively imagines the lost stories of four unidentified victims of the fire. The idea is incredibly innovative, and despite some flaws in the structure, the actors’ performances and Allison Tartalia’s songs convincingly draw you into this historical fiction.

I walked into the space with several very clear images of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, having seen a great many pictures of the tragedy in school. In terms of period, Alice J. Garland’s costumes are just the right balance of individuality and historical style. Each character is dressed uniquely, yet there is a high degree of unity when they all appear together.

Mark Marcante’s set is also well suited to the play’s various locations, yet its spatial versatility is not utilized to its fullest potential. The most aesthetically beautiful tableaus are the well choreographed factory scenes, which Robert Gonzalez, Jr. successfully conceived with nothing but six chairs and the precise movements of the actors. Too often the set is cluttered by poorly rendered props, which scenes like this prove are completely unnecessary.

My general critique of the production is its tendency to send itself in several directions simultaneously, when its greatest strengths are in the moments of extreme focus. We are initially introduced to the Guide, who alternates between showing us the story of the four future fire victims and a heavily stylized (and rather propagandistic) account of the oversights that led to the fire itself. The characters of the Factory Owner, Superintendent of Buildings, Architect, and Alderman are all played by large puppets, which provides a stark contrast to the easily relatable factory workers. I understand this choice, yet I was alienated by the didactic tone of these segments.

This one-sided commentary and lack of character development unfortunately describes Robert Gonzalex, Jr.’s Guide as well. Throughout the play he cannot quite master the ease of storytelling so vital to a character created as an audience go-between. The Guide seems extraneous and clichéd in comparison to the other (human) characters populating the play.

The characters of Nell, Maddie, Rose, and Renzo are far more compelling in their human complexity. We are interested in their relationships, their lives, and their potential futures. The history of Triangle Shirtwaist Factory is still being taught, and if one had not learned about it, there are numerous ways to access its historical information. What excited me about the concept of this play was not its educational value, but rather the creative possibilities of rewriting four lives lost to history. I want to hear more about recent immigrants Renzo (Tommy Kearney), and Rose (Amanda Yachechak), whose emotional monologues about their pasts contain a great deal of historical information mingled with human interest.

Kearney and Yachechak have beautiful singing voices, great chemistry, and much emotional honesty. The strength of these performances meets its match in Birds on Fire ’s other couple: Nell (Anna Podolak) and Maddie (Gusta Johnson). Their natural chemistry, and the solid scene work behind and around it, nicely encapsulates the nuanced relationship of a couple who has been together for a number of years.

Throughout the play, the human connections prove to be the most striking, like the smiles exchanged between a factory seamstress (Sarah Shankman) and a presser (Brian F. Waite), who are unaware of their imminent fate. They remind us of the missed opportunities, the potential happiness, and the unpredictability of life. It is these moments that make the strongest political case against those who were responsible for the fire.

Birds on Fire ends up being heavy handed in certain moments, but the finesse of the romantic plots is enough to make this show worth seeing. Like Romeo and Juliet, the star-crossed lovers can never be together. But we can take solace in the knowledge that these four unknown victims have been reincarnated and given a chance to experience some love and happiness on the stage of Theater for the New City.

The Dark Side of the Luna

Us vs. Them begins with a scene featuring a Big Gulp and a bi-lingual argument set against a backdrop of piped in Christmas music. This sets the tone for Dark Luna’s inaugural production, which is equal parts dark comedy and family drama. Though the concept of family dysfunction revolving around forced holiday togetherness is not completely original, it is the earnest acting of the eight member cast, and the cohesive design concept, that keeps Us vs. Them from seeming cliché. Written by Wesley Broulik, who also plays Howard, Us vs. Them has an engaging plot with well rendered characters and just the right amount of mystery. Yet, the play still manages to showcase the actors over the writing. In a series of scenes we are introduced to sisters Nicole (Siouxsie Suarez) and Katy (Maria Itzel Siegrist), firefighter Kris (Christopher Halladay) and his daughter Dannie (Dannie Flanagan), and Nicole’s girlfriend “T” (Michelle Steaton), T’s father Eddie (Eric Michael Gillet), T’s sister Barbara (Brooke Page) and Barbara’s husband Howard (Welsey Broulik). The links between these individuals and their stories are often re-contextualized as the play moves along.

I was continually drawn in by the relationships among the characters rather than the words themselves, which is clearly something that director (and actor) Michelle Seaton has fostered. Each actor not only connects and listens to his or her scene partners, but also maintains the same level of engagement in the creative scene changes. As the lights go down on the minimalist set, actors moving their props and set pieces stay in character, noticing and reacting to each other and the changes being made to the space.

Ed Hill's set is decidedly simple and effective, consisting of a couch, a chair, and several cardboard boxes, while the walls are covered with a web of string, adorned with photographs of the various characters. Since the set itself creates an aesthetic of connectivity, these transitions serve to increase the audience’s sense of company and collectivity. In other words, when set against a stage decorated with a literal web, the in-character scene changes reaffirm the Us vs. Them mentality that exists in theater. Even in between scenes, the actors are onstage and in the web, while we are outside of it.

The moments in which actors are really looking and listening to each other are thrilling to watch. They happen here, though they rarely happen in monologues. The language seems to force the actors to push a little too hard, partially because of the amount of anger demanded in their monologues. Characters anger quickly and stay angry for large parts of scenes, causing the individual speeches to lack the dramatic arcs better rendered in the dialogue. For example, Nicole (Sioxsie Suarez) is less believable in her rant to her lover “T” (Michelle Seaton) about T’s drinking than she is seconds later in an impassioned dialogue about the nature of their relationship. Despite the occasional “thigh slap” or “sighing out” (two common acting tics) that accompanied some of these monologues, each and every cast member was able to engage me at certain moments. A standout scene occurs later in the play between Barbara (Brooke Page) and Dannie (Dannie Flanagan), who both give beautifully nuanced and genuine performances.

In a play about the various forms of love and family, Dark Luna ends up showing us the importance of these themes both within the play and in the environment of a theater company. Both require hard work, love, and support. Though this play might not be profound in its written words, the production as a whole has a lot to offer. Us vs. Them is a journey to the dark side of the moon, with Dark Luna’s passionate actors and artistic/production team as guides, which is worth the sometimes bumpy ride.