Review: Lonely Love Notes

By Michael Block

Sometimes solo shows do something unique. The author writes a story that is not their life story. They craft a play inspired by vital themes but generate a new character to tell the tale. Such is the case in Adin Lenahan’s Pilgrim Notes. Playing an array of Louisiana-tongued personas, Pilgrim Notes is the intimate tale of a young man’s correspondence with a convicted serial killer and the bond the pair find.

photo by Liz Rogers

With specificity from start to finish, Pilgrim Notes, written and performed by Adin Lenahan, chronicles the personal story of a young gay man who’s life is shattered through the indirect murder of a former love at the hands of a cannibalistic serial killer. On a search for identity, Jasper Lange finds himself in communication with the infamous Brando Gierke. With personal relations and media views altering his perceptions, Jasper must decide whether this newfound connection is meaningful or just something he desperately desires to be real. When it comes to crafting an intriguing plot, Lenahan has done a wondrous job. He gives each important player a brief introduction that sticks with you until they’re worked in. The complexity of storytelling allowed the pieces to fit nicely into one another like a puzzle. Just when you asked yourself what something happened to do with the overall tale, Lenahan was there to answer it. That being said, the momentum is high to start and it's fantastic but once the story gets heated, something weakens, allowing the air out. It's almost as if stamina is a factor, both contextually and via performance. Lenahan and director Caroline Kittredge Faustine allow little time between character beats to inhale and take in the information. Once you got used to the pace, it was fine. But the fact that Lenahan could morph seamlessly from character to character defines the talent of Lenahan. He is the epitome of the character actor. No matter the age or gender, he found them. Due to the regionality of the story, Lenahan didn’t have a dialect crutch to help him deviate characters. And he didn’t need to because he knew how to find difference through diction and cadence. Adin Lenahan has an inane sense of character and fluidly shifts from person to person without hiccup.
Whether it was a choice or simply how the play unfolded, director Caroline Kittredge Faustine kept Lenahan close to the secretary desk in the corner. She didn’t have him travel much. It kept the piece moving but it meant an immense amount of unused dead space between Lenahan and the audience. It’s only a tiny woe from an overall solid production.
Pilgrim Notes is one of those rare solo plays that captures the audience’s emotions in a hypnotizing way. Planet Connections is likely not the last time you’ll see Adin Lenahan or Pilgrim Notes.

Review: An Hour Long Portrayal of Abuse

by Kaila M. Stokes

Infinitely Yours, written by Darci Faye, is an hour long thriller that will leave you on a cliff. Darci Faye takes the audience through the slippery slope of an abusive relationship and ultimately makes you feel like that it could happen to you. It did the Hunker Down Initiative (the benefiting organization) proud.  It opened people’s eyes to how easy it is to judge women in abusive relationships, but ultimately it can happen to anyone.
Infinitely Yours opens with all four characters on stage on stools set up for them. Each actor stays on stage the entire show whether they are in the scene or not, which I will get to. Emily, played by Deb Radloff, is getting a coffee in a Starbucks when she runs into an old friend from High School, Jason. Jason, played by Andrew Hutcheson, is super ecstatic to see her and Emily is hesitant immediately. She reluctantly agrees to sit with him and have coffee, he even persuades her to meet up for drinks later as well. There is an unsettling feeling for the audience, but we did not quit know why yet. After they meet for drinks, Emily is sloppy drunk and they hook up. In the next scene, Emily’s fiancé shows up. Derek, played by Kevin Kiler, is a well-kept man that is clearly looking to settle down with a nice woman that can hold a conversation. Emily and Derek go out to dinner and run into Jason and his wife! Tasha, played by Maria Tholl, is a timid shy woman that lacks any confidence to be pretty. Faced with this problem of Emily and Jason having hooked up, the uneasiness ensues into the next scene with Jason and his wife. Tasha is petrified of Jason and we soon find out why. Jason belittles her to the point of irreversible damage and physical attacks whenever he feels it is needed in order to discipline her. Without giving away the ending, it isn’t good and Emily fell right back into old habits.
All of the actors did a great job of working together and listening to one another. Each character was very different and had scenes written where their personalities could shine through. It wasn’t just about this abusive relationship; it was about how all of these characters connected to the abuse differently.  One major thing that needed to change was all of the actors being on the stage throughout the show. Some of the scenes were so intense you ended up watching the actors that weren’t in the scenes expressions! Another aspect of this was that some scenes required the action of getting a coffee or a beer and instead of going off stage to retrieve these props they were either on the floor or in bags that the actors had to open. It took away from the reality of the show. With that said, the space was very hindering itself. There is only a simple curtain propped up for a backstage; however, it would have kept the audience in the moment if the actors had used the backstage. Another directorial and writer choice was to have a very long make-out scene between Emily and Jason. It was extremely uncomfortable for the audience with the close proximity and how long it was! When they started to get intimate that would be another moment where a backstage could have been used to imply sex. The audience doesn’t need to see it. It actually dumbs down the content of the show when a scene is so “handsy”.

The lights were simple. Again the space seemed like it hindered the show, but it would have been great to have used the lighting to feel the intensity. When Jason got scary it was a good opportunity perhaps to narrow the wash of the lights or have more of a spot light on the actors to make it seem like there is nowhere for this poor girl to run. It would have helped the audience feel even deeper for the character. And then when Jason was out in public acting completely normal the lighting could act as an opposite to fit his bi-polar abusive personality. He pretends in the light and his true colors come out in the dark, like a monster, but he is just a guy that anyone from the audience could know.
The music transitions were used to change scenes, since again, all off the actors were on stage. The music seemed to match the tone, but scene changes with loud music take the audience out of the show. The lighting and a backstage would have fixed the transitions that made the audience look at their watch or other audience members while waiting.
Overall, Infinitely Yours, was a great drama that made the reality of abuse be known. It would do well at New York Theater Workshop or Playwrights Horizons. It was hindered by the space and budget. With more financial love and cohesive directing it is a great show that I recommended for a quick reminder of how lucky you are in your relationship. Maybe see it with a friend and not a partner. Hats off to the actors who stayed true to their characters and made it real.

Review: The Story of the Girl with a Font Name

By Michael Block

Everyone's life is a story. Even the storytellers have a life story. In Will Coleman's whimsical Helvetica, presented by Rising Sun Performance Company, the story of a girl with a font name comes to life in theatrical fashion.
Like a strange hybrid of Peter and the Starcatcher and Fun Home, Helvetica by Will Coleman, is the nonlinear life story of a girl with tales to tell. With three actresses taking on the titular role at various ages, Helvetica's childhood companion Myron the bear narrates, mostly, the moments that shaped her life. Did Helvetica have the most difficult life in comparison to others, absolutely not. So what makes Helvetica's life important? It's relatable. And only is interesting thanks to structure. With the nonlinear format, Coleman could easily go back and examine the scene order as a couple flips and swaps could heighten the action. Simply due to the fact that the three stories aren't parallel forces you to ask how, scene by scene, they inform one another. And currently it's not as strong as it could be. And for a play of fiction, Coleman and Helvetica have great potential. It’s just taking the puzzle apart and reconstructing it. The one glaring plot point that causes some confusion is the use of the lovable teddy Myron and how the play is told when he’s put in the attic. The conceit that Coleman sets forward is using Myron to help retell the tale of Helvetica through narration. It’s a great theatrical concept but if he’s gone, how does the story continue? While it could easily be remedied through staging, cleaning up the conceit will benefit the play in the long run.

Helvetica has boundless opportunity. And that’s the beauty of it. Whether it was the lack of time or festival constraints, director Brock Harris Hill gave the audience a skeleton of Helvetica’s potential. The natural theatricality of the script allows for exciting staging and storytelling but Hill only gave a bit. But what was there had promise. It just needed to be a tightened and streamlined. With a giant cast of characters, Hill could have doubled up roles but with ten actors, he had the resources to utilize them to create the world, or at least move the world around sans run crew.
With the story focusing so heavily on Helvetica, no one else really got to showcase their stuff beyond being a supporting player in her story. The trio of women who played the various Helveticas created a decent vocabulary with one another that could easily have gone further. The strongest of the three was easily Julia Torres as Present Helvetica. She brought a bit of spunk and a lot of sass and yet remained grounded. Her storyline revolved primarily around the love and loveless relationship with Husband played by David Berman. Berman’s character ran the gamut of curveballs for Helvetica and yet he took it in stride. As the wise Myron, Sven Haabeth crafted a character that had charisma that made him the best friend forever. It worked well through narration but when he was thrust into scenes, Haabeth could have been bigger and brighter.
Helvetica is a case of the show with the potential for the next iteration. The pieces are present. Realizing them in an even more fantastical way will make Helvetica the special play it can be.

Review: Waiting for the Cable Guy

By Michael Block

We've all had to wait for something but in the age of digital technology, as long as you have a cellphone or wifi, life is easy. But what if that's what you're waiting for? Pure chaos! In Judith Leora's Gideon, Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot gets an update when roommates Aria and Zoe literally wait for the cable guy. And on their wait, they get a chance to look at the absurdity of life.
Gideon is an absurd comedy where reality gets drenched in the surreal as Aria and Zoe wait for the notorious Gideon the Cable Guy. After days of living in a black hole of technology, they are at the breaking point as their savior seems to be evading them. Along their wait, Aria and Zoe get visited by their whacky neighbors including airhead ditz Harriet and the rowdy Russian Ms. Banaszewski and her autistic step daughter Eden. Like Godot, the action of Gideon is wound up in the action of waiting. The text talks in circles, often repeating the monotony. But that's what happens when you run out of things to say. Gideon isn't necessarily groundbreaking but it does offer a cool commentary on our obsession with technology. With that being a prevalent there, finding a way to incorporate it into Aria and Zoe's story would have been a good opportunity. What happens instead is the plot gets too crazy and Gideon loses steam. When things go off the rails, Leora's credibility goes down the black hole.

photo by Bruce A. Kraemer

Director Joan Kane infuses some big sitcom style that allows the real life moments to hit home. But in the craziness of comedy, something doesn't sit so well. And that's the characterization of Eden. Whatever the reason, to the wrong person, Eden could be seen as borderline offensive. Reigning in the character was greatly desired. But aside from that, Kane's vision was spot on. And it all comes down to the design. The cardboard apartment was smartly designed and realized by G. Warren Stiles. It was simple yet evocative. The lights vocabulary was consistent. They were drab when it was just the duo but a burst of color was added when the neighbors popped in. The consistency of the device proved that there was a clear and concise vision from Joan Kane.
As an ensemble, Kane took their characters to the extreme. But when the humanity shined through, that's when Gideon resonated. The strongest at balancing absurdity with reality was Rachel Cora Wood as Zoe. Wood was funny yet was the voice of reason. Her timing was on point and had immense chemistry with whoever her scene partner was. When it came to the kooky, Connie Castanzo nailed it as tech and trend obsessed Harriet. Castanzo’s timing allowed her to earn every single laugh. It was one of those performances that you couldn’t imagine anyone else doing as well.
Gideon delivered on the promise of being fun and entertaining. Through the laughter was something profound. Gideon was the example of how to do Planet Connections Theatre Festivity right.

Review: To Drill or Not To Drill

By Michael Block

The land is something we have taken for granted. As new advances and discoveries are made, we have begun to take for granted the beauty of our world. Honoring the land in the age of money and oil is the very deep landscape of Nix. And if that was the heartbeat of the show, Katherine Brann Fredricks and Massimo Malavsi could have had something special. Instead, concepts and ideas get so out of control that Nix crumbles within.
Nix boasts that is adapted from Shakespeare's Hamlet, with quotes ranging from Henry Kissinger to Crazy Horse, and yet it's so extremely loosely inspired by Hamlet that you likely spent far too much time trying to find the parallels than paying attention to the actual material. If you are able to decipher a plot, you can find the story resembles something to this: Fermin is a money hungry tycoon eager to make a profit even if it means the death of a beloved tuned-in employee Rafael. His truck-driving sister in law Petra arrives just as the body is being discarded and her daughter Brisa hears words that will eventually prove his guilt. Meanwhile, the single Petra is convinced by her sister Jade to no longer mourn her deceased husband and party the night away with Rafael's brother Nestor. At the bar, Fermin spreads a lie of Petra's madness via alcohol. This sets off some tension between the sisters, especially when Petra is convinced Fermin is responsible for Rafael's death. Sound like Hamlet? It's a stretch. But spoiler alert, there is a big body count at the end. So where exactly does the title come from? Nix is Brisa's dog and recipient of most ridiculous plot device. Is Nix an essential character? Not at all. Why is he included? That's just one of the severe dramaturgical questions raised. Even looking at the structure, book writer Katherine Brann Fredricks could have benefitted from some assistance. The play begins with a scene with the song “On the Road” then a new scene and song called “Treasure Chest” then a reprise of “On the Road” followed by a reprise of “Treasure Chest”. It's dramatically weak. To remedy this, Brann Fredricks could have started the show with the inciting incident of Raphael's death, done “Treasure Chest”, introduced Petra with “On the Road” in full, and concluded with a reprise of “Treasure Chest” following the standoff. Whether it was a time constraint or lack of material, there was seldom character development and the music rarely furthered anything along. And nothing is more difficult to work with than poor prose. Brann Fredricks tried real hard to make the dialogue rhyme and it often hindered essential word choices.

With so many woes, there was something so surprisingly beautiful. And that was the voice of Darilyn Castillo. The purity and soul was a breath of fresh air. Her conviction was able to lift the material. As her daughter, Laurel Caruso played the sweetness. Her chemistry with Castillo was genuine.
Directing your own work can mean you lose the beauty of collaboration. And another eye and opinion. Katherine Brann Fredricks was so close to her material it felt as if she wasn't able to see the little things that bogged down the production. It's the little things. When you theatricalize a truck, it's important that even if it's not present it feels present. She had her actor's walk right through the imaginary truck at times. Even with the limitations, Brann Fredricks' staging was stuck. Again with the little things, when your characters explicitly state that they are drinking or if it plays an vital part of the story, bringing O'Doul’s on stage is inexcusable. Buy a six-pack of a name brand and fill it with water. When it came to choreography, Shelly Hutchinson gave a really nice moment to Castillo’s Petra and Jody Reynard’s Nestor in their dance duet.
By billing Nix an adaptation of Hamlet with other quotes thrown in is hindering the piece beyond imagine. Katherine Brann Fredricks should trust that the story she is trying to convey can live on its own. But right now Nix the dog needs to be nixed, as well as much of the material.

Review: Can't Stop, Won't Stop

By Michael Block

When you have a lot of thoughts, sometimes it's hard to process them all. Especially all at once. When emotions are thrown into the mix, you can imagine the turmoil that your brain experiences. And sometimes those thoughts lead to new and dangerous thoughts. Just ask the mind of Stephen Powell. In A Stopping Place, Powell goes on a psychological journey that leads him into crisis mode.
To put it bluntly, A Stopping Place is an existential stream of conscienceless about the loneliness of one man. Powell's text is tangential, jumping around quite like the inside of your brain. But not how Disney imagined in "Inside Out". With the chaotic style of storytelling, Powell's solo piece never quite finds its footing. It's nice to give the audience something to think about and piece together on their own but sometimes there can be too much ambiguity. A Stopping Place is an example of this. Powell loses steam due to complete ambiguity. With all that being said, A Stopping Place is a bit of an anomaly when it comes to classic solo show structure. And that's a bit exciting. Once Powell can reign it in, Powell and the magic he infuses can be even more pointed.
Putting yourself out there, alone onstage is a brace feat. Stephen Powell is a charismatic performer who can tell a story. He has a unique way with words. It's not emphatic yet there is emphasis. Powell has a sly cynicism in his demeanor in this piece. The only thing lacking was ambition.

With ambiguity, in order for A Stopping Place to succeed clarity was crucial. Clara Pagone's direction was not as clear as it could have been. Pagone had moments but there were some undefined beats. One of the biggest question marks was defining the start and end of the show. Seamless is one thing but when an audience is unsure of what to do, it causes a sense of discomfort. Had Pagone been a bit more deliberate, her vision may have come true. The other beat was cleaning up just how the world worked with the "walls" of the world. Powell was often thwarted by this barrier yet he was able to communicate to someone, whoever his audience was. It was interesting to define the playing space with the fabric to help break up the monotony of space.
A Stopping Place was a play about getting out, philosophically. But when the audience has a hard time getting in in the first place, getting out isn’t a possibility. Stephen Powell infuses magic into his play. Just a little more magically clarity and he’s on his way.

Review: The Golden Smile Made Me Smile!

By Kaila M. Stokes

The Golden Smile, written by Yaakov Bressler, is a witty dark comedic musical farce. Set in the 1950’s, The Golden Smile is absurdly vulgar and hilariously light all in one. Directed by Joey Stamp, this psychological musical had a lot of high points to be commended. From the start there is a lot going on. You are in a mental hospital with 7 people with varying degrees of disabilities and physical limitations. All of the characters have their own defined personality and pick on one another accordingly. It is clear to the audience from the start who are the alphas and who are the betas. The Golden Smile is about a group of mental patients being bogged down by their warden, played by JeVon Blackwell. In danger of his physical threats and of losing their most prized possession, their wreck room, the gang sets out on the daring task of creating a play. By the end, they all realize their true purpose.

Joey Stamp did a fabulous job in defining each character. It would have been easy to throw 7 actors on a stage with pretend disorders and not define them. It was clear that the character work was important to the writer and director. However; out of the 7 patients on stage, only 5 were really used to their fullest potential. The Critic 1 and Critic 2, played by Jody Hinkley and Yasmin Schancer, were underutilized and therefore seemed a bit unnecessary on stage. The other 5 actors were the ones creating the plot and driving it forward. If a character has no change from beginning to end and is not a driving force in the script, than there is not a real need for that character accept to pull focus.
The first song is sung by Loathing Actor, played by Robert DiDomenico. This was thrilling since at this point everyone was mostly unaware that the show had musical elements. DiDomenico did a fantastic job telling the audience why he was smarter, better and shouldn’t be in this mental hospital. The satire and irony is what set this show in a positive motion. The Director, played by Amanda Mason, was a force to be reckoned with as her character screamed her way to the top…literally. There was a lot of screaming from the start which made it hard for the cast to keep the momentum up. The energy started at a 10 from the beginning and ended at an 8. It would have been more fulfilling if Mason gradually took control and grew stronger physically and vocally throughout the show to gain power. Her journey was a bit one note because of the stagnant nature of her yelling constantly. The writer, played by Andy McCain, stole the show. McCain created a physicality that was unlike any other. He worked on a stuttering speech pattern that created empathy and awareness of his illness. His character also had the biggest journey and change from beginning to end. It was a joy to watch the writer’s transformation from being a cowardly stutterer in the corner to a well-articulated character in a play within a play. It was a commentary on the power of theater and how it can transform lives.
The Paradise Factory is a small bleacher seating style black box. The stage was utilized to its fullest potential. The space didn’t feel too big or too small, but just right for this insane comedic musical. The lights were designed to take the audience from sterility of the mental hospital to the physical threats coming their way to their own world when creating the play. And the lights did just that. It helped progress the story forward and aloud the audience to share in the characters emotions.
The Golden Smile definitely made me smile and was one of the better shows part of the Planet Connections Theatre Festival. The actors left their hearts and energy on that stage. It seemed like a project full of passion from every member involved. I recommend this light hearted yet serious commentary on society of a show to anyone looking for a good time.

Review: Another Love Triangle

By Michael Block 

Lust and love are age old ideas that seemingly get intertwined and often are a source of misguided tension and heartbreak. Such is the case in Alex Polanco's The Illusion of Love. When a cast of down and out characters hoping to change their paths gets caught up in love and lies, their futures are forever changed as truths are revealed.

photo by Alex Polanco

Playing the Paradise Factory as part of Planet Connections, The Illusion of Love is a cinematic style stage play that doesn't quite find its footing. Whether it was the overall pacing or the lack of intrigue in a non-innovative story, The Illusion of Love is a typical drama about the games we play to get what we want. Michael is a hopeless romantic who doesn’t know love’s boundaries. After only a few short months, he has proposed to his girlfriend Veronica. Only she’s involved in a blackmail lust-ship with Michael’s “friend” Richie. How Richie and Veronica are acquainted? The strip club. What happens when Michael inevitably learns the truth? Exactly what you expect. Polanco’s story has a diluted love triangle. It’s a story of lust, trust, and betrayal that tried a bit too hard to be profound. There was very little that wasn’t predictable and that does not bring intrigue. The way Polanco structured the script left a burning question of whose story The Illusion of Love was. As it stands now, Polanco tries to give Richie, Michael, and Veronica equal attention but they seem to lack a completely realized arc. Once Polanco discovers this, the focus can be pinpointed properly. The one fascinating addition to the production was in a world of realism were the bookends of the dumbshows. Aided by raucous musical accompaniment, the story of the moments weren’t as clear as they could have been. If they were eliminated, nothing would have been lost. But as it stands now, it takes away from the ending of the text.
As a whole, the performances were not as refined as they could have been. As Michael, Phillip Iweriebor had the essence of the goofy best friend as opposed to the strong lead. And he was completely lost next to the standout performance from Pablo B. Sandstrom. As Richie, Sandstrom had cinematic gruffness. It was subtle but effective. He managed to make even the biggest of clichés lines sound dangerously seductive. Playing the cog of betrayal, Paris Scott grew as the play proceeded. By the end, Scott found the strength and determination of Veronica. If only it came sooner.
With a multi-locational script, director Danielle C.N. Zappa was forced to bring variety into the staging. The tight space was certainly a source of woes but she did occasionally utilize the stairs that lead to the landing. When it came to visual appeal, Zappa knew what she was doing. Those chairs! The silver chairs were sleek and perfect for the world of the play. As far as getting the most out of characters, Zappa did not find as much success. Whether it was difficulty finding nuances of the text, Zappa couldn’t get her actors out of the one-dimensionality of the characters.
The Illusion of Love on paper is an intriguing exploration of story but it sadly was lacking in execution. There is work to be done but with some polishing, The Illusion of Love has potential.

Review: The Never Ending Story

By Michael Block

War. What is it good for? Edwin Starr says absolutely nothing. While that may be an exaggeration, there may be a purpose but will there ever be everlasting peace? In Anthony P. Pennino's riveting Drones, Homer's The Iliad gets an update where the war of the play has never ended and continues on and on.
As part of the 2016 Planet Connections Festivity, Drones is a timeless tale that looks at the hardships of war though the lens of the Odysseus and our ever-advancing technology. Written by Penino, the characters are lifted to a new Greece where technological advances in battle have altered how combat is fought. When Od and his men reach a desolate village of Troy, the last remaining civilian causes chaos amongst the ranks. What Penino incorporates into his piece is varying references and ideas of the litany of the wars of the world to discuss the continuity and strife of a never changing philosophy. And it's a well-devised discussion. What was a bit amiss in this production was clarity. Where exactly in time and space are we? Were they foxholes or graves or just actually chairs? It's likely that was the point. But the more questions to ponder, the less the strong moments get appreciated. And there were certainly a number of strong moments. Though there were many false endings that could have easily been satisfying, the one Penino chose may not be the strongest. Ambiguity could have been the right option but nevertheless, highlighting the fear and struggle of loneliness of Odysseus in the final beat was striking.

photo by Travis Chantar

A small playing space to represent the vastness was tough but the six-piece ensemble made the best of the situation. The best of the lot were the Bash Brother duo of Francesco Andolfi and William Hochman as Jax and TC respectively. Andofli and Hochman seemed to ease into the parts with the strongest and most deliberate characterization. They each brought a separate gruff intensity that balanced them as a pair. It's a shame their time was cut so short. When it came to naivety, Jamison Monella as Pat played into the skepticism without dishonoring his position. Monella was a strong mouthpiece for the audience. As Od, Barry Lee Sheppard explored a monotonous dominance in hopes of supremacy. It showed Od's lack of humanity as he is bogged down by the hardships of the situation. With the brazen personalities of Jax and TC, watching Sheppard’s Od try to control them was fascinating. Word are really all you need for control.
Penino sat in the director’s seat in addition to writing. With so many people and objects in such a small playing space, Penino gave himself a challenge but was able to conquer it when he needed to. He used the strength of the natural angle for the majority of his staging, placing the five chairs in a dynamic position. While Penino was able to give a skeleton through staging, the possibility of what he could have done had the playing space been doubled in size is boundless. The little side conversations just didn’t have the impact they could have. Penino was at his best through theatricality, aided greatly by the lighting from Jason Fok. Those little bursts of color broke the flatness of the dry dessert sky.
If you have an opinion on war, and it’s likely you do, Drones is a play for you. Do you need to know the action of the inspired source material? Not necessarily but you’ll have a little more appreciation for what Anthony P. Penino has done.

Review: The Tramp Speaks

By Michael Block

Charlie Chaplin is a staple of the lexicon of Hollywood. Possibly the most well known and influential icons of the silent movie era, Charlie Chaplin was a complex persona. In Don Nigro's mesmerizing The Chaplin Plays, not only does Charlie speak but Nigro asks life's toughest questions to ponder.
In hopes of not spoiling the excitement of The Chaplin Plays, Don Nigro's piece is billed as a double feature. The first half of the evening is Charlie alone on stage joking his way through his life and career, calling attention to the little things we may not have known. By the second piece, Charlie is joined on stage by Anastasia. Is she a psychologist or is she actually the Siberian Monkey Goddess? The second half of the play is a crisis of identity as the person we've grown to know may not actually be who he says he is. Talking in the riddles of life, The Chaplin Plays forces the audience into their own perception of self-reflection. The Chaplin Plays is not what it seems on the surface and that keeps the excitement brewing. Though the second part went on a bit too long through repetition, what Nigro does bring to the stage encapsulates the enjoyment and potential of simplistic theater. And that's also thanks to the sublime direction of Lori Kee. Kee took the necessary steps to honor the person while making The Chaplin Plays stand on its own. The big twist doesn't feel forced and Kee and her players earn every beat.

photo by Al Foote III

If The Chaplin Plays will be remembered for anything it's an impeccable performance. Hips out, back arched, feet spread, shoes on the wrong feet. Ivette Dumeng did her homework to create a seamless characterization of Charlie Chaplin. Opposite Dumeng was Tatyana Kot as the precocious Anastasia. Kot’s performance was rooted into the psychological mind games. In a sense it was a bit uncertain, but the uncertainty is what made Dumeng's Charlie unravel.
The barebones style of the performance allowed the individual beats to shine. With the theatrical nature of Kee's text, lighting designer Gilbert Lucky Pearto played with color and it was just right. It allowed for variety in the best of ways. It permitted for Kee's theatrically in staging have its own personality. With just a little projection, the video by Peter Mychalcewycz of Dumeng doing Chaplin was a loving touch that paid homage to the era. Combined with the intricacies of Andy Evan Cohen’s thorough sound design. Cohen pulled the exact sounds from cinematic to the thematic.
The Chaplin Plays is one of those theatrical events that will leave you beyond satisfied. This was a team effort but Dumeng deserves a little bit of extra love. It’s a performance that’s bound to be discussed.

Review: Smashterlife

By Michael Block

Picture it. Imagine a future where Ivy Lynn and Karen Cartwright are older and reunited in schlocky “community” theater. They are still continuing on with sleazy director Derek Wills. When one of them, whoever Tom Levitt wrote the play for dies due to accidental overdose, they get to watch the aftermath with the help of a ghostly friend. If you didn't get it, those were all references to the doomed cult television series "Smash". And if you replace the names, that was essentially the plot of Wendy Mae Shelton's A Light in the Dark playing the Planet Connections Festival.

photo by Sebastian Montoyo

If it sounds derivative, it is. Call it "Smash" meets "It's a Wonderful Life" or "Death Becomes Her" meets Noises Off. Any way you cut it, A Light in the Dark is derivative. But that doesn't mean it's not enjoyable. The play by Shelton takes big stereotypes that were slightly grounded in reality and thrusts them into a world that's familiar to us theater folk. A Light in the Dark doesn't necessarily offer any new ideas but opens our eyes to the idea of reflection through regret. Shelton's dialogue is snappy and when a joke lands, it lands. The cliches though? Not as much. With the play within the play format, Shelton offers a super heightened story to introduce the world but any more of that play would have been unbearable. And perhaps that's where the giant laugh comes after the big reveal. We get a nice bookend with the play within the play that wraps up the story nicely. Shelton could have benefitted from a more accessible ending as the moral was hidden a little too deep.
The core characters of A Light in the Dark went to the extremes. Either big characterizations, ridiculous antics, or farfetched situations. Comedy was key. In the central role of Maggie, Jill Bianchini found her inner diva and allowed it to explode on stage. She did a fine job clocking in the rules of the world alongside the audience. When it came to sleazy, Joshua Mark Sienkiewicz nailed it. As Tony, Sienkiewicz was an indisputable bad guy. Does this person really exist in the business? Hopefully not to this extreme but nevertheless, Sienkiewicz followed the text. Taking on the not so innocent ingénue, Amber Crawford was in a different play stylistically. She played the reserved extreme. Playing the device of spiritual porter Buzzy Buckley, Al Foote III was all-knowing but easily could have had more fun. The content was there.
There's only so much you can predict when it comes to the uncertainty of festivals but a bad seat can seriously alter the perception of a show. Site lines were not in director Lori Kee's favor. Trying to add variance to her staging, it's likely any action placed on the extremes you missed. But when it came to sticking with a plan, Kee did so. She infused big comedy to Shelton's play to give it a bit more life. By avoiding the melodrama, Kee’s company entertained.
There was something old fashioned about A Light in the Dark. And maybe it's due to playing into common plot devices. A Light in the Dark will entertain you, and sometimes that's all theater needs to do.

Spotlight On...Stephen Powell

Name: Stephen Powell

Why theater?: Theater came to me later than usual. I don't mean experiencing theater (that came early when my New Yorker aunt took me and my sisters to Broadway shows), but participating in it (when I took the leap to audition for a community theater play). That first role ignited a passion that felt important and rewarding. I've been pursuing it ever since.

Tell us about A Stopping Place: This is a piece about how our individual struggles are both the glue and the repelling force in our relationships with each other. The bridge and the wall. It tells the universal story of a person who seeks reconciliation with the past in order to face the future, and the labyrinthine path to find resolution.

What inspired you to create A Stopping Place?: The spark of A Stopping Place ignited from the nature of what an actor faces when alone on stage but surrounded by people. There is an intrinsic element of 'space', both between actor and audience and between character and object. That concept began to tell its own story about connection: the inability to reach the audience physically but to appeal to them through performance; the paradox that being alone on stage infuses inanimate objects with character of their own; the sense that the performer feeds off the performance of the audience. I find these qualities analogous to the contours of all our relationships to each other as individuals. How we act toward others is not too far away from standing on a stage and reaching out into the darkness by any means possible. I became excited by the universality this form of the "one-man" show offers, and what else the aspects of the 'theatrical' tell us about the stakes of human connection.

What kind of theater speaks to you? What or who inspires you as an artist?: I say this constantly when talking about A Stopping Place: I love ambitious theater. Ambitious in form, in theme, in scope, in vision. Watching a show that makes you gasp, or cheer, or go pale is a clarion call to any actor to go back to your rehearsal space and build to those same moments.

If you could work with anyone you’ve yet to work with, who would it be?: I'm reluctant to say, because it may just come true and then where would I be?

What show have you recommended to your friends?: The Great God Pan, by Amy Herzog. It played a couple of years ago at Playwrights Horizons and left me breathless. I walked out of theater resolved to seek in every future performance the nuance and depth that those six actors showcased on that stage.

Who would play you in a movie about yourself and what would it be called?: When someone finds my life worth dramatizing, I'll have to ask them!

If you could go back in time and see any play or musical you missed, what would it be?: I will always regret missing the musical Passing Strange when I visited he city in 2008. That show was a gem that, when I saw the Spike Lee film, did for me what the best kind if theater does: it gave me a new and startling understanding of the world and myself.

What’s your biggest guilty pleasure?: Really?? Let's say... drinking coffee after sundown.

If you weren’t working in theater, you would be _____?: In an office, wondering what it would be like to be in a play.

What’s up next?: Aside from a workshop with the 600 Highwaymen (the experimental theater duo) there will be an announcement soon about the next step for A Stopping Place. Stay tuned!

Review: Hoping for the Eleventh Second

By Michael Block

Parked behind a table, sitting anxiously in a chair, Padraic Lillis talks about suicide. He says the things we may not have the courage to say out loud. Through his own experience, Hope You Get to Eleven or What are we going to do about Sally? is a monologue about finding the light through the darkness.

photo by Kevin Cristaldi

Presented by The Farm Theater at the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity, Hope You Get to Eleven is an emotionally driven solo piece that discusses things that can be hard to admit. Inspired by his own story, Lillis is not seeking sympathy but rather offer awareness. Lillis smartly doesn't tip toe around the subject. He brings dry humor to balance the gravitas. And there is a hell of a lot of gravitas in this play. The play came to form after his experience directing A Christmas Carol at a college where a girl from the play committed suicide. With the aftermath and his own pains finding unity, Hope You Get to Eleven began. The unique thing about Lillis’ piece is there is no moral to this story. And it’s unfair to try to offer when. Lillis tries to bring awareness to the thought of if you know you’re hurting, ask for help. He drops in the occasional fact and numbers about suicide that hammers in the idea of how dodgy the thought can be. He reminds us that someone else in the room has likely had these thoughts. Or may be having them, word for word, as he says them. And it's true. Believe me, it’s true. With the safe space of a theater, Lillis bravely shares how he found himself having suicidal thoughts despite the positives in his life. A loving relationship. A flourishing career. Opportunities to do what he loves. But when you can’t see the progress, the negative thoughts outweigh the positives. The one statistic that weighs heavy on the production is the one that inspired the title. And it’s something I wish was introduced sooner into the monologue.
From a production point of view, Lillis plays it safe in his script. Rather than reaching for analogies and metaphors, he lays it out there in a colloquial manner. He and director Scott Illingworth approach the text in a way that it seems he is talking to you. Illingworth places the table and chair on a diagonal in order to reach the two seating sections equally. It was a very strong and powerful position for Lillis to be in. For the most part, lighting designer Joe Cabrera left the lights consistent. A nice glow on Lillis. But when he goes into his bit about the bath and going under, Cabrera adds a hint of theatricality. The subtle shift was evocative and taut.
Lillis drops a quote the seemed to resonate the most with me. “Loneliness is exhausting.” Lillis’ story could be your story. It could be my story. The important thing about Hope You Get to Eleven is knowing you’re not alone. There is someone out there with open arms ready to give you a hug. You just have to find them.

Review: Dangerous Games

By Michael Block

They say it's always good leaving your audience wanting more. Erik Champney did that. The three plays could easily be snippets of longer pieces but Blankets and Bedtime: 3 Restless Plays is an evening of danger through the lens of sex and lust.
As part of 2016 Planet Connections, Blankets and Bedtime united three dark one acts by Champney that analyze diverse human relationships with the commonality of sex. Beginning the evening is Champney's strongest of the trio, Sparkler. Set in 1964 San Fernando Valley, Sparkler watches the calculated romance of actor Clayton, his fake wife Carol, and his gay lover Max. A story of pointed manipulation with a backdrop of fame and stardom, Sparkler explores the "in the closet" culture of Hollywood's Golden Age and the back door dealing that comes with it. The trio of characters are individually ambitious, striving for glory, destroying lives in the process. Where love starts and ends is the heart of this story. When it comes to effective casting, Sparkler is triumphant. It's as if the cast was pulled straight from the period. As golden boy Clayton Boyd, Chad Ryan is the epitome of All-American. Clay uses his charm and attractiveness to win and it seems second nature for Ryan. Even when he is opposed by Ellie Gossage's affirmative Carol, Clay knows he'll get his way. Max Meyers was wonderful as Clay's boy toy Jack. Like Ryan, Meyers brought a charm but unlike Clay, Jack's aura was genuine. As the former Mouseketeer, Meyers ensured that Jack was in it for the love and not the glory. You know if Champney gave us another act, things would not end well for Jack.
In the second offering, Champney writes a heartbreaking tale with tinges of surrealism. The Screens brings the meeting of Allen and Damien in a psychiatric hospital visiting room. The poetic text follows the story of two seemingly strangers who discuss the circumstances that bring them together in this room and the reality of the surroundings. What was most fascinating about this piece was while there were two people present, this story was all about Allen. Dylan Goodwin sublimely balanced circumstance with reality. There were moments when Goodwin made you think that perhaps Allen wasn’t crazy.

photo by Bryan Cash

When crafting the evening, it was evident about halfway into Saitama that it may have been best to swap The Screen and Saitama in the running order simply due to the fact of the gravitas of Saitama. Nevertheless, Saitama is a dark drama about a comfort station in 1941 Shanghai. Once it's revealed just exactly what this place is, the stakes imminently rise. For those unaware of what a comfort station is it is virtually a brothel. Saitama watches Hideki as he engages in a dangerous game with two comfort women, the veteran Daiyu and the young novice Nuying. When things take a turn for the violent, fear fills the air. It takes tough skin to watch this and not feel an ounce of discomfort. It’s a mesmerizing story that seldom gets a place on the stage. For that, Champney succeeds. But as a whole, something didn’t quite sit right in comparison to the other two pieces.
Uniting these plays in an evening of restlessness is no easy feat. Director Janet Bentley used her resources well. Bentley incorporated effective staging utilizing the natural diagonal that site lines force. The tight stage didn’t allow much for variance, yet Bentley made it possible. She even took the time to capture the pulse of each story and curate them in a manner both individually and as a unit. Blankets and Bedtime didn’t need to be too intricate when it came to lights but lighting designer Gilbert “Lucky” Pearto played with color to add a burst of excitement. The other addition to the production was the intricate video design by Andy Evan Cohen. Simply due to festival constraints, the small projection didn’t have the effect that it could have on a grander scale.
Blankets and Bedtime is not for the weak of heart. Erik Champney, Janet Bentley, and Co have crafted an evening of intrigue that is bound to get you to ponder as you rest your head to sleep.

Review: A Futuristic Nightmare

Clarity. It's imperative. If an idea makes sense to the author, translating that idea to their audience is the goal. When the plot is too dense and the language and lingo do not resonate, a show can implode faster than a star. Such is the case in Cygnus ISA Summer Con5t3ll4tion. The story must have made complete sense to playwright Steven Mark Tenney but it did not translate on stage. Instead, a presentation of confusion was offered.
Cygnus began as a piece of "Sci-fi noir" as Teich Lumen, a renegade of sorts, was introduced as the mouthpiece of the story and our eyes into the world. Regardless of terminology, the conviction was present and we were blasted off into this futuristic story of candles and telepathy and music box (sets) and Iceland. The correlation of all these things was clear to the characters but without a glossary or understanding of the world Cygnus created, what we were left with was an abundance of overlapping stories and rules of a world that could not be comprehended on first pass. The sci-fi noir element was genius. It was captivating and clever but when new narratives were introduced, new styles appeared. The lack of cohesion was disappointing. Through the noir device, Tenney offered elements of camp. The character of Silvie Moon and related plotline allowed the camp aura. But for the campiness to come through, the entirety of the company needed to sell it. This was far from the truth. Director Susan Tenney, who shared duties with her brother, seemed unsure of what direction to travel. And how to let us know exactly where in space and time we were. To give Tenney credit, he established rules and very rarely strayed from them, something some sci-fi writers tend not to do. With the plot going on so many tangents, the script exceeds a healthy sans intermission theatrical run time. Finding ways to chop parts down could be greatly beneficial as there are some momentum killing spots that run on and on.
Cygnus was stylistically inconsistent from content to acting. And having an erratic ensemble is detrimental. There were some wonderful performers in the bunch though. As slightly bad boy Teich Luman, Andrew Bryce brought a Chris Pratt charm to the stage. His character choices were clear and concise, managing the noir monologues and dialogue with ease. Utility man Jake Ottosen was tremendous in his various parts and characterization. He knew the material and seemed the grasp the genre the best. It may be why he was on stage the longest as an assortment of characters. In this futuristic world, physicality played a key role for certain players. Rob Brinkman did an absolutely tremendous job in his static body movement. If you didn’t know any better, you would have believed he wasn’t human. Francesca Craft was equally strong in her physicality and vocal abilities as the Poetic Stewardess but lost her strength in her other roles. Like many others, Ivette Dumeng was a utility player. Dumeng found ways to discover intricacies in her multi-role track. From slightly nerdy to robotic, Dumeng sold it.
Director Susan Tenney’s mission was to bring Cygnus to life in a cohesive and coherent manner. With material that struggled, Tenney had to rely to the visual appeal. By far the strongest aspect of this piece were the costumes. They were out of this world. Designer Janet Mervin did a sublime job mixing modern style with futuristic elements. The color pallet was consistent and her pieces worked for the actor. The use of textures and details were something extraordinary. You may take for granted the impact of texture but the way some of the material glistened and reflected under Joe Novak’s lights were stunning, evoking the feel of this piece. To create the multi-location though rarely specified set, plastic cubes were utilized. Visually, they were beneficial to Novak’s lighting looks, adding color when necessary. But the one aspect of the stage that harmed the show severely was the projection “screen”. The “screen” projected a loop of words, images, and themes that correlated to the show. It was dreadfully placed far downstage right, viewed cleanly by half the audience. It cut off a third of Tenney’s stage and caused issues when actors would walk in the line of projection, casting a sloppy shadow. The intent was to understand the piece. But it drew focus from the acting as you wanted to not only see what was on screen but if it had anything to do with what was playing on stage in that moment. Sadly, it didn’t. The loop would have been very beneficial during pre-show. The soundtrack by Topu Iyo and Mike Thies seemed intended for the noir style. At first it worked. Until it repeated and did not alter the mood of the scene as noir underscoring should. It was arbitrary rather than purposeful. Additionally, it would cut out at times which draws instant attention to the ear.
Theatrical science fiction fantasy is hard. There's a reason why it's beloved on film when you have the magic of the movies. It's clear Cygnus is a project of passion. It's filled with creativity. It's meant for a certain audience. With some refining and trimming, the target demographic will eat it up. But this is not a piece for the general public. At least not right now.

Review: There's No Place Like Home

Thornton Wilder once wrote a play called Our Town about the fictional American town of Grover’s Corner, New Hampshire and the inhabitants of this small town. Broken down into three acts, Our Town, led by a narrator called the Stage Manager, follows the lives of the Webbs and the Gibbs over a period of years. This play is an American classic. The slice of life look at Everytown, USA has a special place in our hearts. In Kaela Mei-Shing Garvin’s Corners Grove, Garvin transports the Webbs and Gibbs and friends to a fictional Bay Area town to peek into the struggles of home and the loss of Whitney Houston.
In Corners Grove, Garvin pays homage to Wilder while simultaneously throwing away the heart and beauty of the classic. Written in three long acts, a narrator takes the audience on a journey through the recent past where townies struggle to grow up, get out, and find happiness. The Webbs and Gibbs are still neighbors but their identities are new. George Gibb is the friend-zoned pal of Emily Webb. Emily’s brother Wally is closeted and rearing to escape. Rebecca Gibb is the town slut and faghag of Wally. The core four have an abundance of classmates and pals including cousin Julia, her best friend lesbian Melissa, her ex and Stanford genius Stacy, and town bad boys Howie and Joe. With so many characters on hand, Garvin tries to give them each their moment to shine and intertwine, but there’s only so much you can jam pack in an endless two-hour intermissionless play. With the appeal and intrigue of Our Town, Garvin explores the accessible theme of home and what it means to our generation. Though the sentiment is there, the clarity is not. Blending parody with heart blurred the intentions of the piece, losing the credibility of the source material. Regardless of style, Garvin ran into problems structurally and with character arcs. The majority of the characters had stand out moments but none were fully fleshed out. Elements and traits were touched upon but were pushed to the backburner to make way for the next round of characters. Corner’s Grove felt closer to highlights of a first season of a television series than a fully realized piece of theater. It appeared as if the core four were to be the most fleshed out but that was soon abandoned.
The one character though that did have the most dynamic journey and fullest story was Wally. This was proven in the strong performance by Adin Lenahan. Lenahan was sassy and fun to start but when he had his Prior Walter moment in Act III, that’s when he broke out, offering an emotive performance. While she was primarily subjected to the background until the third act, Stephanie Malove was delightful as Julia. Malove has a strong onstage presence and a charming disposition. The highlight scene of the play was the proposal between Julia and Par Juneja’s Luke. Malove and Juneja provided rapid-fire dialogue that culminated in a beautifully tender moment. Equally sequestered to the minor role was the majorly capable Kelly Colburn as Melissa. Colburn was able to find dimensionality in Melissa, bringing subtle nuances to the role. Max Carpenter as Joe broed out wonderfully and Gabriel Carli-Jones find hope as Manny when they were on stage, making the audience to beg for more to their stories. Beyond that, there were many disconnected performances. There was such hope in Brittany K. Allen’s Emily but was sadly held back by Michael Greehan’s George. Greehan seemed to be living in his own play, lacking chemistry with Allen. Scribe Kaela Mei-Shing Garvin as the poorly titled Stage Bitch looked lost, fumbling over her own words. Garvin looked frazzled and unsure as the narrator, though she was captivating in her moments of stillness watching the action she created.
To bring Corner’s Grove to life, director Gemma Kaneko took the stripped down approach, a staple to Our Town. Using this device was fine but the scenic elements were a complete travesty and sadly altered the experience. The set by Carolyn Emery seemed more like a pull from the Paradise Factory storage room rather than a cohesive design. Emery and Kaneko used stacks of audience chairs, two ratty folding tables, and two ladders to tell the story. While the concept was keen, it seemed as if the company forgot to bring their scenic elements to work. In the tight space, Kaneko brought little variety to her staging. Additionally, Kaneko had her company mime props until some props randomly appeared. The inconsistency drew focus from the moment, trying to discover why some props were more important than others. The lighting design by Caroline Faustine was modest, bringing some wonderful color to some of the monologue moments.
Kaela Mei-Shing Garvin and dramaturg A.P. Andrews should continue to bring their strengths together to shrink the show and discover the direction Corner’s Grove ultimately wants to go in. The piece has the power to hit home but as it stands now, there’s a lot of fluff that diminishes the quality. With inspiration stemming from a beloved play, there’s a lot going for Garvin and her work.

Review: The Power of Provocative Theater

Hot button topics tend to make sensational talking points for theater. Chokehold by Anthony P. Pennino unabashedly goes right into the American race relations and police brutality for a sixty-minute high-octane drama that keeps you interrogative.
Chokehold is a provocative topical piece about racial injustice and the reactionary frame of mind. A group of radicals eager to make a statement “arrest” a young white man in hopes of setting off a firestorm of change in America. Reacting in part of the police brutality and rash of racial injustice continuing to plague the country, these five young activists plan on flipping the roles by filming two African-American “cops” kill a white man. What occurs is a journey of self-reflection and morality as the five and their subject discover just how these situations have altered their minds. Pennino’s script is unafraid of causing a reaction and getting the audience to emote. Pennino right out of the gate drops names and preaches to the audience. But it’s through his subtleties that Chokehold truly lands. Textually, when the five begin to interrogate timid Devon, their dialogue falls into the trap of regurgitated Facebook posts. But when things become personal and the stories and stances are character-driven, that’s when Pennino finds incredible beauty. The characters had depth and stories that were genuine and honest. Pennino allows right and wrong to play out in a fantastically dramatic fashion. The characters believe their actions, killing an innocent person, is justified and you sit in your seat thinking that the situation sounds eerily familiar. This isn’t an arrest. It’s kidnapping. And that’s when Pennino brings you the striking "Isis community college" line, things become authentic. Pennino knows what he’s doing crafting a play that allows you to think. He knows when to introduce humor and allow the audience to lightly laugh. He knows what evokes a certain reaction. But if there is a way to tone down the preachiness in exchange for story, Chokehold will be infinitely stronger.

photo courtesy of Alberto Bonilla

The material is heavy. It’s personal to some. And the ensemble did an astounding job bringing truth to the stage. As the “victim” Devon, Barry Sheppard gave an intricately multi-layered performance. While it may have been easy to go big, Sheppard played it cool. Sheppard brought fear and terror while still maintaining composure. It was raw, gaining incredible sympathy. Sheppard left it all on the stage, which was truly remarkable. As the masterminds behind the operation, Peter Collier and Kara Young as Carter and Dominique were explosive. An unlikely duo to be in control, Collier and Young took command. They were a dynamo. Mle Chester as Tika and Narada Campbell as Andre provided the most emotionally driven performances. Helped by their characters’ backstory, the breakdowns the two captured were stunning. As Jason, Neil Tyrone Pritchard was more than just the menacing force, finding heart within.
The key to success was a strong vision by director Alberto Bonilla. As a production, Chokehold was handsdown a winner. For a festival play, Bonilla and co did everything perfectly. The house went out and a flashlight turned on. And another. And another. And then a camera light. And that was it. Bonilla told the story simply, evoking a strong sense of terror. As if the stakes could have been any higher. Bonilla used the space to his advantage, finding the right moments of movement and stillness. He allowed the beats to be hit and hit hard. There was a great sense of trust between Bonilla and his company as each individual was on the same page.
Winning an audience from start to finish is not always an easy task. I don’t know the last time I sat in a theater and thought solely about the experience. The audience was silent in all the right ways. Chokehold on the surface is a play about race. But it's also a play about reacting in anger. And the final moment proves how anger hurts. Chokehold is destined for a life beyond Planet Connections. It’s a must see.

Review: The Mean Streets of Brooklyn

Returning home doesn't always result in the cheery homecoming you dream of. The return may not be by choice but necessity. In Tim Errickson's The Firebird, Danny returns to the mean streets of Brooklyn after escaping and bettering his life in hopes of saving the lives of those he once loved.
The Firebird is a homecoming story of dramatic proportions. Playing like a Scorsese drama, The Firebird follows Danny as he returns to Brooklyn after his second mother Irene suspects some shady business from her son and husband. What’s uncovered are secrets that could break apart a family as Ricky tries to be the hero in a world he can’t save. Errickson’s piece is a gritty family drama that tackles familiar themes. Errickson does a phenomenal job structuring his play. The order of flashbacks informs the action. The way he layers clues and subtle jabs at the future are smart. Though the play suffers from some repetition that easily be eliminated, the drama plays well. As far as the plot is concerned, the characters have strong objectives. The only character that comes off as selfish and ill intended is, shockingly, mamma Irene. Irene calls upon Danny to help get Ricky out of the gutter and save the family. But when the plot takes a turn for the worst, Irene instantly blames Danny, who’s been gone for years, for the demise of her child. Though he respects and cares about her regardless, you wish he would retort with a “it all comes from parenting, Irene!” Sometimes starting toward the end and jumping back in time allows intrigue and great anticipation. The play begins with a sound prologue. It seems ambiguous to the audience but it's a clue to what is to come. We learn that at some point there is a fight that causes the first scene. Had this sound cue not played, the mystery of Errickson's script would have been heightened greatly. This cue set the tone of the play and it may have hurt it more than helped.

photo courtesy of David Anthony

Leading The Firebird ensemble is Gabriel Wright as Danny. Though his delivery was occasionally forced, Wright brought great determination and soul to the role. Wright’s Danny genuinely cared about the people he was there to save, regardless of how they now felt about him. Michael Romeo Ruocco and Andrea Cordaro as Ricky and Marci get lost in characterization. They're portrayal of the Brooklyn Italians appear better suited in a sitcom world than a deep drama. They are over-the-top and lack believability. Sadly, this hurt the dramatic depth Ricky required.
Director Brian Gillespie did a wonderful job at keeping the stakes high and the action moving. Gillespie ensured that the beats were hit and the necessary plot points were highlighted. The set by Jak Prince remained on stage throughout. It allowed the many scene changes to be quick. While Prince, who also served as lighting designer, couldn’t isolate the areas of the stage, some of the actors leaned on, physically and metaphorically, items that did not live in the specific scene. With a nonlinear structure, storytelling is key. Finding ways to aid in the time jumps are crucial. Costume wise, Oona Tibbetts did nothing. No adding or subtracting items. Had some sort of costume exploration been done, it would have been beneficial to the production. The final flashback that concluded the show featured Danny in a shirt and tie. As this is not a memory play, this costume in that moment did not work. Sound designer Ian Wehrle incorporated an interesting array of hip hop music for the scene shifts. His standout moment was the climatic sound cue that appeared multiple times. The essence and drama of the clip was lost as it sounded like a built cue rather than a moment in time.
The Firebird is an interesting piece of drama. Errickson’s script keeps the audience on the edge of their seats and may long to be preserved in film form. Though there are elements that could use some reworking, The Firebird is in a good place.

Review: The Rules of a First Date

Ah the first date. The night when two love-hungry people meet and begin what they hope will be the first chapter of their lives together. But that can all be derailed at the end of the evening due to one piece of paper. Scholars have been debating for centuries over the proper protocol when dealing with the check. Yes, that's right. The make or break of a date. In Paul Weissman's romcom Dutch, a young pair have a great first date until they split the bill and it all goes downhill from there.
Marianne and John are on the quintessential first date. They share stories, laugh at jokes, smile, and gaze into each other’s eyes. The gateway toward the future. And then the waiter brings the check over. John hesitates. Marianne waits. And finally asks if he wants to go dutch. John agrees and that’s the beginning of the end. Dutch is a romantic comedy about love and dating in the modern age. Weissman’s play is a cute romantic comedy for the stage that recycles stereotypes of the typical Hollywood romcom. Not that that’s a bad thing. The plot is simple. Dutch follows the pair through a journey of dates, a flurry of bad advice from the best friends, and demise and pining of a lost love. While there may not be anything new to gain from Dutch, Weissman and company certainly bring the entertainment. Weissman’s dialogue is quick and witty, bringing some wonderful one-liners to the stage. His characters fall into the regular romcom categories but they seem to still have their own identity. John is the geeky romantic lead. Marianne is the typical overthinker. And Claire and Ben are the quirky and slacker best friends, respectively. For a play about relationships, Weissman does a fine job at crafting solid relationships between the four. The best bud pairings are rich and relevant. They have their own language that allows for the quick dialogue to come naturally.

photo courtesy of Fred Backus

The quartet of Dutch did a superb job bringing life to their characters. As John, Michael Jayson was a terrific romantic lead. Jayson’s essence on stage was reminiscent of Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He was darling, suave, and simply irresistible. Jayson was smooth with his comedic timing, especially with Joseph Esbenshade’s Ben. Esbenshade played up the loveable goofball with the sentimental side. Thankfully Esbenshade avoided the gross out humor that tends to follow this sort of character. As Marianne’s confidant Claire, Morgan Zipf-Meister offered a dry sense of humor and ridiculously on-point comedic delivery. Zipf-Meister was wonderfully quirky, making the role her own. Of all of Weissman’s characters, the only one to fall into the terrible stereotype trap was Marianne who sadly ended up being the least likeable of the bunch. Lindsey Carter had some sweet moments early on, but as the character began to whine, Carter was forced to follow.
Director Fred Backus did a nice job keeping the story real yet fun. Backus kept things simply moving by mostly avoiding scene changes, slamming right into the next scene. Though there were only four, it would have been cleaner to have the actors do any shifts that were necessary. With a small space to contain three large scenic pieces and up to four actors, Backus did all he could to ensure sight-lines were as clean as possible, though the box formation did repeat itself often.
Dutch is a witty and fun little comedy that the romantic inside is sure to relate to. Sometimes theater doesn’t need to be ground-breaking to be entertaining. Weissman and co set out to make the audience laugh. And they did just that.

Review: A Misguided Musical Satire

Big corporations are a joke to many. They might mean well but their inner workings and people who run them are destined to be lampooned. Written by Katherine Brann Fredricks and Paul Edward Nelson, Black Hold Wedding is a zany musical comedy about the sinister head honcho of an oil company and the resilient brainiac destined to bring him down.
With shades of Urinetown, Black Hole Wedding is a weaker attempt at satirizing corporate America. With a score reminiscent of standard Broadway pop, Black Hole Wedding evokes a colorful vibe. The music has its catchy moments but gets completely bogged down by the libretto. It's evident that the story makes sense to writer-director Fredericks but she was unable to offer the complete saga without backtracking. Many integral plot points are skipped over at the start, causing severe problems along the way. With great potential in concept, Black Hole Wedding is in desperate need of a new directorial eye and an incredible dramaturg. And possibly a title change. It's not until nearly two-thirds of the way into the musical that any mention of a wedding is introduced. With the exception of the well-rounded Raymond, the remainder of the characters have potential for depth-filled arcs but fall victim to plot. Many crucial check points are rushed or bypassed, especially in Dean. Fredricks gives Dean a sick obsession with golf and rarely strays from the corny analogies. The rivalry between Dean and Raymond is not as strong as it needs to be because their interactions are minimal. If Dean was truly a tyrant with successful scare tactics, face to face threats bring higher stakes than passing off the work to his cronies. Like many other musical comedies, a love story was introduced. It was obvious it would occur but again, its introduction was rushed and unnatural. With so many unclear points within the plot, it’s hard to find what really works.

photo courtesy of Hunter Canning

To bring the piece to life, Fredricks brought a talented cast together to tackle the weak material. With the character so strong already, Aaron Riesebeck was a standout. Riesebeck brought a fun nerdy quality to Raymond that exposed Riesbeck’s ability to the leading man. As a Mr. Dean, Ravi Roth did what he could with the material offering a powerhouse vocal to the stage. Hadley Cronk as company masseur Summer was sweet and endearing. Ashanti J’Aria and David Marmanillo as company cronies Calista and Eugene had the most difficult characters to tackle, stuck in the rut of one-dimensional moments.
With Katherine Brann Fredricks wearing the directorial hat as well, the production wasn’t quite up to the standard it needed to be. There were many moments of confusion that interrupted to flow of the show. With the makeshift as makeshift can be set by Shana McKey Burns, Fredricks ability for smooth transitions was hopeless. That being said, had the set continued with the black and white comic book style of Raymond’ apartment, it’s possible that things could have felt cohesive. The costumes by Anna-Alisa Belous seemed to have been sponsored by Aeropostale with every Dean crony sporting a color polo from the teen-loving shop. With the hopes of a flashy musical, Black Hole Wedding featured many moments of choreography. The stage at the Paradise Factory was small to begin with, feeling stuffed when the entire ensemble was on stage. But the choreography offered was more awkward than comical. The moment that the Macarena was brought onto the stage, all credibility was lost.
Black Hole Wedding is rich in potential but needs a strong vision for a future. But thankfully with a strong and willing cast, the potential can be seen.