By Ed Malin

For fifteen years and counting, The Tank has been one of the most catholic of performance spaces. Just about any kind of live performance can be found there and, even better, receives their support.
I finally visited The Tank's new space on West 36th Street, which, luckily for the artists of the world, has two stages. Playing to a packed house in the middle of a three-day run was Molly Brenner—who performs much at UCB—with her boldly personal one-woman show Molly Brenner Isn't Coming.  The show is directed by Madalyn Baldanzi.
Molly is 28 years old. She informs us she has never had an orgasm, not even the accidental ones some women get from a horse or a bannister. She was worried she might have one before the show opened and wreck everything, but she is still qualified to tell this enlightening story.
Through a series of monologues as herself and some highly-recognizable other characters, she uses comedy to talk about her body and a condition that is often not discussed without shaming.

photo by Tucker Mitchell

In brief, the lights come up on Santa Claus, who chuckles “Ho ho ho! Merry Vaginismus!”
Vaginismus is a clinical-sounding name for a fear of penetration. Molly suggests she could make herself sound sexier by telling a lover “my problem is I've got tight vagina”
We meet Sex Barbie, the doll with the right genital organs, who, if she didn’t exist, children would find it necessary to invent her.
We hear the story of a young woman who goes to high school, hears what her fellow students are up to, and thinks that masturbation has just been invented. Later, with her gynecologist, she is prescribed various exercises to help her body relax from her condition.  These dilation exercises take approximately 20 minutes, which is exactly the length of an episode of the TV show “Portlandia”.   Still later in life, she calculates that if she were ever to have an orgasm, it would take as long as two episodes of “Portlandia”.
There is a lot of universal empathy in this play.  So many things in life could happen if we didn’t get distracted wondering if they were about to happen.  Thus is “meta” the enemy of pleasure.
And here's one that may make you realize how able-bodied you are: Molly reminds us that some women have never even seen parts of their anatomy, and so are just shocked that men like to expose their own body parts. Definitely something that would disappear if more thought were involved.

By Ed Malin

Project Y’S Women in Theater festival at IRT continues with Cindy, written by Amina Henry and directed by Michole Biancosino. This modern update of Cinderella has some surprise twists which I found very empowering for children and inspirational for me (a grown-up parent of a girl somewhere below princess age).
Cindy (Star Kirkland) is a thirteen year-old girl whose mother has died.  Fortunately, she gets good advice from her friend Rudy the rat (voice and puppetry by Zach Fifer). Her father, James (Joachim Boyle) tries to look out for her best interests, but he is not strong enough to resist his new wife, Cindy’s Stepmother (Rachel E. Evans), whose ego proceeds her. A very caring cow named Bell (voice and puppetry by Caleb Antony Green) lingers in the background, ruminating on Cindy’s future.

photo by ClintonBPhotography

Suddenly, the teenage Prince Rupert (Timiki Salinas) is ready to wed and throws a series of balls to find himself a marriageable girl who wants to be a princess.  The Stepmother’s daughters, Sarah (Veronica Cooper) and Suzy (Emily Ma) prepare to be sassy for the Prince, and make sure that Cindy will be helping them prepare for the ball rather than competing against them.  Much classical music related to Cinderella appears in this piece; Sarah and Suzy’s leitmotif is “Run the World (Girls)” by Beyoncé, sometimes thought of as a female power song.  Meanwhile, Cindy dreams of being a pilot, something she knows she would enjoy more than being a groupie to royalty.
Now, the magic begins.  Honest Rudy the rat, loathed by the Stepmother and others who prefer image to integrity, helps Cindy get to the ball.  So does Bell the cow, who has the spirit of Cindy’s late mother. They provide the glass slippers (or superfly hightops) and carriage (or shopping cart) that takes Cindy—or should I say incognito “Princess Ella”—into society and brings her home at midnight.   Prince Rupert is a tall, jewel and cape-wearing party professional.  His gold and sparkly shoes and ripped jeans mark him as cool, though Cindy is not impressed.  Dancers thrill to the sounds of bhangra and congas, while Prince Rupert finds Cindy so refreshing, he does a split.  Cindy, with a thirteen year-old’s strength of will, tells him she wants to fly, and barely gets home on time.  One glass slipper remains in the prince’s clutches.
When the prince comes to the Stepmother’s house, she happily trots out her daughters and does everything to deceive the prince into believing that they are Princess Ella.   Sarah and Suzy each have a toe chopped off, but they can’t satisfy Prince Rupert that they wore the slipper at the ball.  Finally, the prince finds out that “Ella” is Cindy.  Her friends and family all want the best for her.  But will she marry the prince or find a way to take flight on her own.
Playwright Amina Henry has written a play that appeals to young people but frees itself from the fairytale form.  Amid fanciful moments, we see a Stepmother who does terrible things to her own children and a stepchild who chooses her own destiny.  Director Michole Biancosino makes sure that the humans and animals onstage never have a dull moment. Annie Ulrich’s costumes are flashy, contemporary and exciting, and the animal puppets are haunting and beautiful to behold. Hallie Zieselman’s set includes lots of signs and clues about the play for young viewers to discover.  Sound designer Amit Prakash did a great job with fancy interlude music and exciting dance tracks for the ball. Christina Watanabe’s lighting shows us Cindy’s loneliness and difficulties as well as the love she receives from her friends and spirit animals.

By Ed Malin

At the Brick Theater, The Festival of Lies continues from June 5 through July 5.
I saw Sweet Little Lies, which, as its title implies, is a thought-provoking program of short plays by talented regular artists at the theater.
Up first is Ruth: An Apology, written and performed by Bob Laine, directed by Maryanne Olson.  This is a moving solo piece about a man’s relationship with his mother—who has some of the supportive characteristics of the Biblical Ruth—as well as a woman named Ruth whom he dates during high school.  The young man liked boys more than girls, which, over time, turned out to be not just a phase but his identity.  Ruth was a year older, and wanted to be with him, and took on his interests, but this wasn’t the recipe for a healthy relationship.  From “Bartholemew and the Oobleck” to Billy Joel to the Atari game Pitfall and things you can do with a joystick, Bob Laine takes you down memory lane.
The second piece is The Three by Erin Bregman, directed by Maryanne Olson, with music by John Glover.  Ariana (Silvia Dionicio) sits at the center of a triangle of clicking metronomes.  Three observers (Jessica Marza, Clara Francesca and Roger Nasser) echo and critique in unison every word Ariana says. As the sound builds to a fever pitch, Ariana yells that it doesn’t matter, to which the replies is yes it does. Eventually, the three other voices cut out and Ariana can collect herself. For me, this is a piece about the oppressive nature of time.
The third piece is I Do Not See You by Richard Lovejoy, directed by Paige Blansfield. The Target (Morgan Zipf-Meister) tells us about how, as she ages, she believes that people actively try not to see her, except when they are looking for someone to blame. Perhaps it is true that babies get the most attention and it’s all downhill from there. In any case, she claims that a museum guard damaged an artwork and blamed her, which is why she went and broke something else in the museum.  If you’re going to get blamed, you might as well have done something, her logic goes. The other characters (Linus Gelber, C.L. Weatherstone and Daryl Lathon) loudly assail her for other minor things, like accidental littering. Finally, she is framed and carried off and beaten by two of the others, while the third tries to get some attention for himself.  He is ignored, and has to face the beaten woman in the end. Wouldn’t it be better for people to treat each other as equals?
The fourth piece is I [heart] Facts, written and performed by Alexis Sottile. The host of our presentation works as a fact checker for various publications. This important job is revealed to be a funny mixture of invention and harassment. We wouldn’t want the things we read to be inaccurate, would we? A few years ago, monologist Mike Daisey garnered some attention for his show about oppressive conditions in Chinese factories; at the same time, there was controversy about how much of the story was interview-based and/or fact-checked. Alexis’s adventures give some hope in a world where elected officials stray from the facts.

photo by The Brick

The fifth piece is Foxing by Greg Romero, directed by Maryanne Olson.
Beatrice  (Silvia Dionicio) is a bit of a personal trainer, complete with a whistle and furry animal ears.  Aaron (Linus Gelber) and Charlie (Bob Laine), two men not dressed for the gym, are put through a variety of aerobic exercises to dance music. Thus warmed up, they then sit and have a conversation, with the help of note cards which Beatrice hands out.  They apparently know each other, and raised a son who died.  It is so hard for them to talk to each other and find any kind of resolution that they try the exercise again until they can brave it all and go unscripted. Don’t knock drama therapy; it works!
The sixth piece is Level III by Erin Bregman, directed by Paige Blansfield
Anna (Morgan Zipf-Meister) and Lea (Anna Ty Bergman) are talking about their views of mirrors. Using stylized language, they explore some fears of the sun bouncing off a mirror and setting the house on fire. What is the difference between reflected and refracted? What do you call a lot of cracked pieces of glass? Versailles? Together, they are able to find their way to some very empowering resolutions.
The seventh piece is Hunkerpuss: The New Adventures, with words and sound by Chris Chappell, directed by Jesse Edward Rosbrow. Late at night, Polly (Rocio Mendez) is discovered watching those cartoons starring Hunkerpuss (Timothy McCown Reynolds), the cat who can never seem to stop chasing the lovely otter, Olivia Otterford (Clara Francesca). These cartoons combine several cute and awkward old cartoon characters such as Snagglepuss from Hanna-Barbera. Polly’s girlfriend Clare (Lex Friedman) joins her and offers a mixture of empathy for what is keeping Polly up and confusion about the appeal of an arguably sexist cartoon. As the two talk on the sofa, their roommate Brandon (V. Orion Delwaterman) appears from behind the sofa to offer his chock-full-of-semiotics perspective. On the other side of the stage, the adorable, lisping Hunkerpuss is seen reminiscing about the making of the classic cartoon. Eventually, not unlike some kids commercial, Hunkerpuss creates an energy portal to Polly, Clare and Brandon’s apartment. When the young fans (these appear to be the children of today, who are having this discussion 10 or 20 years from now) interrogate Hunkerpuss, he tells a fantastic story about his life as a cat, a very rich cat who could have invested in a progressive new Artificial Intelligence project but did not.  When Hunkerpuss died, he found himself alive again inside of the virtual world of the cartoon—which is controlled by the A.I.—continually forced to chase an otter. He moans that he doesn’t have a choice about such base desires. As technology permeates our world, are the animalistic traits of humanity refined away, or are they used against us?  It's a super-dramatic, finely-crafted and hilarious tale.
This show was delightful and ambitious.  Short plays, like cartoons (especially the one which mixes the two together) are magical sparkplugs which can launch a debate about human nature. Kudos to the versatile ensemble which brought to life so many interesting characters, and to the directors, some of whom worked on two or three plays of vastly different styles. Morgan Zipf-Meister’s lighting provides the intimacy that these works require.

By Ed Malin

Blessed Unrest is presenting the compelling new play This Is Modern Art written by Idris Goodwin and Kevin Covall, directed by Jessica Burr.  We experience a dramatization of a clandestine graffiti bombing of the Art Institute of Chicago which took place in 2010.  You will certainly gain new perspectives from the debate on what art is and who decides who gets to make art.  This piece was commissioned by Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theater (where it premiered in 2010) and was developed by New Voices/New Visions at The Kennedy Center in 2014.  The performance I saw was followed by a talkback with the show’s Scenic Artist, veteran graffiti writer KEO XMEN.
It is Chicago in the winter of 2010. Selena (Nancy McArthur) is a young woman who hangs out with a crew of graffiti writers. In her words, "I can't draw, but I DO have a car."  As will become clear, those who don't have their own space to create and exhibit art must work very carefully together.  Selena helps keep a lookout for the police and takes her friends to safety after they put up a "piece" (i.e. a planned work, or masterpiece) on someone else's wall. Their work is often noticed and removed within a few hours, but brings immediate joy (in contrast with decades-later art appreciation) to many dispossessed people (and consternation to wealthy property owners). The Look Over Here (LOH) crew is made up of J.C. (Andrew Gonzalez), who took his new name from sports and religious personalities and Mexican populist muralists he admires, Seven (Shakur Tolliver), who is inspired by Chinese numerology, and Dose (Landon G. Woodson) who thinks MC Escher is a rapper and who doesn't see himself doing safe projects like invitation walls. LOH do not use their government names or spend much time in the "respectable" art world (which is ingeniously represented from time to time by Ashley N. Hildreth and J. Stephen Brantley as a variety of art snobs, passersby and tweeters); mistreated by the law and with racially-biased arrest records, they could never lead the carefree life Selena does.

photo by Maria Baranova

Graffiti artists, prepared for any outdoors survival situation, prefer to work at night and in fog and snow conditions.  LOH's efforts have become more and more ambitious, like the "chi" energy that reminds you of Chicago. J.C. discovers that patrol cycles and a busted security camera could give LOH enough time to piece the wall of the modern wing of the Art Institute.  They will have 14 minutes. If you've seen Blessed Unrest's work, you might be prepared for wild and crazy transformations of ordinary scenic objects.  For this show, the set is dominated by dozens of plain-looking brown boxes. During the dramatic scene outside the Art Institute, J.C., Seven and Dose turn and rearrange all of the boxes to create a very colorful work of art. They all escape with Selena and settle down to dinner (one of the boxes is opened to produce a table cloth), where they learn from TV news that their masked activities were caught on security camera.   Since we still don’t know the identities of the graffiti artists, the play ensures that they separate and lie low for a while.  Selena is even pressured by her parents to talk to a lawyer and find a way to protect herself, lest she is sued for $1 million.  While these characters find new horizons to pursue, their success is bittersweet.  Art is still largely the domain of white, elitist institutions and graffiti is hurriedly removed at taxpayer expense.
This play is well-written and fast-paced.  The excellent ensemble under Jessica Burr’s direction examine many viewpoints about art and culture which often enough are not heard in the mainstream media.  Matt Opatrny’s scenery, Heydee Zelideth’s costumes and Miriam Nilofa Crowe’s lighting keep things very real, focusing less on the urban environment than on the crew’s ability to reshape their surroundings. Things came into sharper focus thanks to the talkback with KEO XMEN.  He began writing graffiti in Brooklyn, NY in 1979, and nowadays is in demand as artist and consultant for detailed 1970s and 80s period pieces such as “Vinyl”.   His stories of the 1970s show us a time when New York City was falling apart and, perhaps, spray paint was the only thing holding some subway cars together. Urban children whom the bankrupt city couldn’t afford to educate were drawing masterpieces by age 9-15.  Such artists, who could turn urban decay into pockets of beauty for their neighborhoods to enjoy, could, working together in crews, cross areas controlled by different gangs and achieve surprising things.  Gangs might be seen guarding a graffitied handball court.   The transformative power of this art made a big impression on me.  If KEO XMEN senses the authenticity of storytelling in This Is Modern Art, I’m sure that you will, too.

By Ed Malin

At the Brick, Theater Accident is presenting The Hollow, an evening of three short works written and directed by Matthew Freeman. Freeman and the versatile cast create captivating stories out of words, aiming to break through to places where only the imagination can go.  This is very much a coming together of skilled theater veterans, many of whom you may know from the New York Innovative Theatre Awards.
The first play is called In the great expanse of space there is nothing to see but More More More.  Seven women wearing white are seated onstage.  These actresses are: Susan Ferrara/Maggie Cino, Rohana Kenin, Dee Beasnael, Christy Escobar, Sarah K. Lippmann, Tammi Clayton and Stacey Weckstein. They talk in tantalizing phrases—sometimes completing each other’s syncopated sentences—about cancer. “The hollow, the hush” is repeated at times throughout, as are pairs of opposites, a story about keeping a urine sample in the refrigerator, and oblique references to body parts such as the “left fallopian testicle”.  The women talk about space flight and count extended lists of their blessings.   Watching this, I got a feeling of overwhelming hope.  Whether we are looking at a group of stars, or white blood cells, or even cancer cells, there is thorough exploration of all of the stages of grief and loss.  Things that real people try aggressively not to talk about all spill out here.  There is a feeling of disorientation which would accompany chemotherapy.  There is a call to abandon all hope, but instead, humor and optimism rise to the surface.  The evening is off to a fine start.

photo by Jody Christopherson

The second play is a hand emerges from the water.  David DelGrosso and Matthew Trumbull, both wearing snazzy blue suits, sit at separate tables not facing each other.  They both hold cell phones, and converse aloud together.  Something tragic has happened, something the title can only attempt to describe.  The two men talk about another person who used to connect them, yet words fail, as they have presumably failed this other person.  This play succeeds in showing how much more of life there is beyond the stories we tell.
The third play is The Language.  Moira Stone and Matthew Trumbull star in this piece, which was originally commissioned by NYU for “The Language of the Birds: Occult and Art”, a beautiful exhibition curated by Freeman’s wife, Pam Grossman, a scholar of magical practice and history.  Stone and Trumbull sit in elegant armchairs.  He is fully dressed.  She is barefoot.  Who are they?  Probably relatives, since they trade bits of a story about “your uncle’s attic”.  He holds a large, storybook-looking book.  The story is a feat of amazingness.  Moira Stone has found the motivation to go to the limits of language and beyond.  She talks about going into the uncle’s attic, and asks aloud what did I find there?  A whole lifetime of goals and exceeded expectations follow.  “The taller you get, the thinner you get.”  There are some people who are so connected, they can still understand supernatural things and can still communicate despite all the efforts of society to keep them apart; “…like the Tower of Babel missed a few.”  Indeed, she states “We were born knowing the language, but it was corrected like left-handedness and lisps.”  Yet, she has many adventures including a “library in Upstate New Mexico” and “the four winds of Hecate”.   It’s engrossing and off-kilter and delicious and builds to point where Stone freezes.  Trumbull solicitously takes her pulse, and helps make her comfortable.  In old stories, this is where someone might have had a “fit of apoplexy”.  Here, it may just be the end of the spiritual inspiration.   As I seem to keep saying about this evening, this was a wonderful thing to witness.
Theater Accident has again dared to do something awesome.  You will probably be awestruck after this show.  There is some sharp costuming courtesy of Melanie Hawks, intense music from Nat Hawks, and essential lighting of inner and outer space by Michael Gardner.  Otherwise, we are looking at the power of good writing and nimble acting by a knockout ensemble.

By Ed Malin

Amios, the dynamic young theater company in residence at the Kraine, has a regularly monthly program of new work called Shotz.  Their two shows on the first Monday of the month are usually packed with fun-loving audiences.   I saw and enjoyed the June offering: Musical Shotz: One Night Only. Each new short musical was written to take place in New York City between 12 am and 6 am on Sunday, May 6, 2018, must have someone taking a picture, and must feature the line “We only have tonight”.   The freshly-written pieces cover a lot of ground in under ten minutes.  They are presented on a fairly bare stage which is the ground for an eruption of theatrical excitement.  By the way, Amios stands for Art and Music In Our Souls.
The program started with Kiz is Dead (Long Live Kiz) written by Liz Thaler with music composed by Ben Quinn, directed by Mario Gonzales featuring Annie Harper Branson, Kelly Chick, Cassandra Paras and Kia Sayyadi.  Here we have the coming together of a legendary punk band, known as Kiz, which is hitting the road again after 15 years.  All of the members have the first name Kiz.  As the band is about to begin what might be their reunion tour, they grant a backstage interview to a roving Rolling Stone Reporter.   Each Kiz is trying to overcome their demons (some question if there will be more than one show on this tour; they haven’t bothered to rehearse).  Cathartically, they play that one new song that isn’t really ready (most bands have one): “All is Forgiven”.
The next piece is Sonder by W Tré Davis, composed and directed by Richard Aven, featuring Meghan Grover, Emily Kitchens and Erin Roché.  Three women who have shuffled off this mortal coil find themselves together, ready to sing about the joyous things in life.  Sonder is defined as "the profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passed in the street, has a life as complex as one's own, which they are constantly living despite one's personal lack of awareness of it." Jo never lived when she was alive, although her great love was mathematics.  Rachel died young, and hears that her “guardian angel” friends have raised her daughter, who is now a grandmother.  Flower was named by a hippy mom and was a fortune teller.  Everything you like so much is right there. A chilled bottle of chardonnay magically appears.  And then the phone rings and it’s for you.

photo by Kara Overlein

The first half concludes with The Room written by Lisa Kitchens, composed by Therese Anderberg and Emily Casey, directed by Lindsey Wormser, featuring Khalia Davis, Lauren Hart, Katie Rose Krueger and Richard Sears.   This is the last night a young man is spending in the apartment he called home for nine years.  Home is a place where on a bad day you can have a glass of wine, and on a good day you can have a glass of wine. The Room itself—including fragments of memories —is played by three women.   As the night progresses, the human protagonist is pulled into a passionate dance with his Room.  As they do, random and beautiful occurrences float to the surface and elicit bemused reactions.  When you’re by yourself, you feel free.  You also feel empowered by what you have done and sad to leave it behind.  This was the most boldly experimental piece of the evening, and it succeeded admirably.
After the intermission, things take a turn for the dramatic with Deli Guys 3: Bodega Nights, written, composed and directed by Richard Thieriot, featuring Zach Evenson and Ashley Grombol as a bodega owner and his outrageous cat.  Richard Thieriot and Natalie Hegg provide narration, in Spanish and English, respectively.
The cat is loud and proud, baring her belly and then scratching her keeper when he tries to rub it   This is a tortured love.  And, like many tragic situations, there is a humorous communication gap. (Never has “carajo de mierdo” sounded more bewildering than in a straight-faced translation.)  This is a great play to ponder whether humans are superior to animals.  Also, Thieriot’s guitar is great background music for a sparring match.
Next is the engrossing Hoops written by Justin Yorio, composed by David Paarlberg, directed by Erik Saxvik, featuring Caitlin Diana Doyle, Philip Estrera, Michael Propster and Sarah Alice Shull.  We find ourselves in the middle of the basketball game that never ends.  At the stroke of midnight, the two two-player teams are evenly matched, tied at way over a hundred points each.  These are teenaged boys and girls who love the game.  The young men are in a bromance which started with their mutual love of feminist theorist bell hooks and continued when they realized they were wearing the same basketball jersey.  The young women are sisters who will never surrender.  It’s true the theme of the evening requires them to sing “we only have tonight”, but will they remain friends and chill out and see each other at the Bar Mitzvah on Saturday?
The show ends with a new beginning.   Metropolitan, written by Thomas J. Picasso, composed by Mikey Rosenbaum, directed by Emily Brown, featuring Fulvio, Dillon Heape and Leigh Williams shows us New York through the wide eyes of a visitor.  The setting appears to be the Metropolitan Bar, a gay-friendly hangout in Williamsburg.  As the new day technically begins, a young photographer from Iowa is checking out the great possibilities of the big city and hoping his hookup will call him back.  At last call, he says what used to be obvious before the neighborhood gentrified: $8 is a lot to pay for a Narragansett.  While he waits, he is privy to what goes on after hours in the bar, namely an artist salon.  The man and woman who run the place want him to share his photographs, and, just because, to share his body.  They do only have tonight since he is flying home in the morning.  Could they be lovers?  Don’t you like bars where you can hear your date?
While I heard that Shotz is on hiatus for the rest of 2018, Amios continues to produce full-length plays, many of which originate in Shotz.  Check out their upcoming shows.  This is a dedicated, large network of talented artists who always deliver an amazing show, with or without a glitzy set.

By Ed Malin

Flux Theatre Ensemble is presenting The Sea Concerto, a new play written by August Schulenberg and directed by Heather Cohn and Kelly O’Donnell.  This award-winning ensemble has brought together many of its co-founders and creative partners for what promises to be another noteworthy reshaping of reality onstage.  Is the sea a concerto?  Listen, if Paul Verlaine’s “Claire de Lune” begets Debussy’s sweet piano suite, then you should get yourself to the ART/NY Theatres and see this one.  This show contains jazz and other flights of improvisation, which the ensemble has developed into a solidly impressive offering.
 You could say this is a memory play.  The beautiful, earnest Lynnie (Morgan McGuire) is now a post-college writer thinking back on her childhood beach summers with her family.  She watches, wide-eyed, as the events of her 8 year-old self unfold onstage.  We are somewhere in gorgeous New England, at a beach house where two sisters and their husband and their aging patriarch mix family business with pleasure.  Lynnie’s father is Eric (Corey Allen), a jazz trumpeter, who is married to Penny (Emily Hartford), a forward-thinking woman who is writing a book about voodoo rituals.  Penny’s loyal sister, Janet (Alisha Spielmann), is married to Jimbo (Greg Bodine), who is ready to make a fortune in real estate development.  Jimbo has been pressuring Eric to take a more important job with the firm, which would mean less music but more security for his family.  The company run by Penny and Janet’s father, Chappy (John Lenartz), who got this name from his fun-loving Charlie Chaplin impersonations, will someday go to either Jimbo or Eric.  The family appears to be loving but, under these circumstances, starts to tear itself apart through ruthless competition.
 We see all sorts of flashbacks, surrounded by the first shellfish of the season (can’t you taste them?) and the sounds of the sea (indeed, by the rest of the ensemble washing up and down in their chairs).  Through Kia Rogers’s lighting, it really feels like we’re watching the sun blaze and set over the shore.  Speaking of, Jimbo announces himself by looking at the sun and musing what it would be like to f@&# a sunset.  Jimbo, with sweater tied about his waist in high-80s fashion, perfectly acts the part of the douchebag investor.  We see him explain that regulations are for poor people, as he sinks the family in ill-advised loan fraud with Eric’s forged signatures on hundreds of documents.  Eric, already split from his true, musical self, finds it hard to stay in this toxic environment.  Young Lynnie can sense his unhappiness, though it is mixed with amazing adventures such as Chappy telling his war stories and giving the family “flying lessons” from the comfort of their beach chairs.

photo by Isaiah Tanenbaum

Eric wants to take his wife and child away from this incriminating situation, but Penny wants to stay and care for Chappy, who is now in a wheelchair.  (For Penny, perhaps read Penelope, the mythological character who stands by her husband even when the sea keeps them apart.)  You should go see this show and watch Lynnie process what happens/happened to her family.  You may want to try drama therapy to sort out your own family.  As the cast become surgeons trying to cut away their past, you may need a tissue.
This is a play that is conscious of its artifice.  At one point, Lynnie is so overcome by her memories that she calls an intermission.  On Will Lowry’s lovely beach house set, some characters are perched on top of the world while others play in the sand below and spiral down into the depths of misery and uncertainty, nearly drowning in the process. Megan “Deets” Culley’s sound design has raging jazz trumpet solos rip through some of the scenes.  Eric, often the silent and contemplative type, finally tells Jimbo an anecdote about a trumpeter who used to exit a riff and blow air, just like Jimbo is blowing bullshit.  Bad businessmen pull the good air out a room like a sponge, but a good player makes music flow like water.  The poetry of this show helps it take on the ethical grey areas, the questions facing a multi-racial family and their daughter who grows up to hear she “doesn’t belong anywhere”.  Johanna Pan costumes the ensemble to represent the best parts that you would see in a nostalgic flashback. Directors Heather Cohn and Kelly O’Donnell give us the family scenes that children aren’t supposed to see, such as that terrible fight between the sisters and the revolt of the weasley son-in-law against the old man.

By Ed Malin

Spicy Witch Productions (Rebecca Weiss, Artistic Director), a feminist theater company, is presenting a new translation of a classic play (Life Is But A Dream by Pedro Calderón de la Barca, translated by Shawn Morgenlander) and a new play on similar themes (Merrily Merrily by Iris Dauterman)
I had the pleasure of seeing Life Is But A Dream, the 17th Century Spanish play joyously brought to life by director Anaïs Koivisto. How to make this play "feminist"?  For starters, there is already a young woman disguised as a man. This production changes a King into a Queen and casts a non-binary actor as the charming jester, makes the tale of violent jockeying for power even funnier, and vive la difference.  Rosaura (Isabelle Russo) is headed towards a castle in Poland, stoked to right an unspecified wrong, when she meets the whimsical Clarion (Dani Martineck). Together they stumble upon a castle in the depths of whose dungeon wails the enchained Sigmund (Stephen Zuccaro). Why is he there, the newcomers ask. Because I was born, says he. That's actually close to the truth, as Queen Clorilene (Dominique Jeanmarie) recounts: Sigmund is heir to the throne of Poland but a prophecy predicts he will be a royal pain in the ass, should be ever be crowned. Yet, after seeing the squabble between Estella (Katie Rose Krueger) and Astolfo (Patrick Chang), next-in-line noble cousins who consider getting married so they can reign together, the Queen decides it's worth taking Sigmund out of the bullpen. If he is a shoddy monarch, they will give him the royal flush, put him back in the basement, and tell him he imagined it all. Thus is the title elucidated. Except, from a sight of Rosaura's rapier, Sigmund's jailer Clotaldo (Nick Bombicino) deduces Rosaura's secret identity and the part he will play in her future.
The plot doesn't really need to be complicated, and, like a Spicy Witch getting hold of a Calderón, it comes off quite enchanting.  Like Sigmund himself, it quickly becomes a no-brainer that the vicious young man must needs be incarcerated. Within a minute of his elevation, he throws a servant out the window (distant shrieks and thuds relay this to the audience).  Yet, going back to no-brainers, the Slavic peasants decide (years before Dostoyevsky) that their idiot should be in charge. The Queen takes arms against a sea of peasants and by opposing them nearly ends herself. And yet, through some mysterious revelations, the parties come to an accord and happiness and a new Golden Age (Spain was in need of one at that point) are proclaimed. The only character to die is handsome jester Clarion, perhaps as a quick note of thanks to Shakespeare.
Spicy Witch took the ultimate play about free will and made it fresh and delightful.  Shawn Morgenlander's translation is edgy, full of life, in iambic pentameter and full color.  On Caitlyn Barrett's colorful set wherein Spain imagined the luxuries of medieval Poland, in the round, the action proceeds at a brisk clip for 90 minutes.  Under Anaïs Koivisto's direction, the stakes are always high and human nature is put under the microscope.  Swashbuckling Isabelle Russo as Rosauro and Dani Martineck as sarcastic Clarion make an adrenaline-fueled team.  Stephen Zuccaro makes the imprisoned Sigmund's rages quite believable and sympathetic.  Veronique Jeanmarie gives Queen Clorilene the effortlessly haughty royal unconcern which Calderón seems to have opposed.  Patrick Chang's scheming Astolfo and Katie Rose Krueger's poetic Estella are adept at finding opportunity in a world of shifting allegiances. Nick Bombicino plays Clotaldo as a man of honor who won't stop until he has made amends for his past.   Noelle Quanci's costumes are radiant and also easy to fight and run in. Yi-Chung Chen's lighting design helps with the central themes about dreams.  Scene changes are marked by the orbit of a mini earth around a glowing sun. Hats and diadems off to Cristina Ramos for her energized fight choreography.

By Ed Malin

Retro Productions has commissioned a new play about the 1980s from playwright Gina Femia. We Are A Masterpiece, directed by DeLisa M. White, indeed follows Retro's mission of bringing us back in time to retell neglected stories, in this case the effect on a small Midwestern city of the very start of the AIDS epidemic.
Joan (Heather Cunningham) is a nurse in Kalamazoo, Michigan, place of contrasts. While the city is culturally significant as home to a college and Bell's Brewery and many contemporary artists, the artists we meet, who are gay, have been disowned by their families. Traditional beliefs abound, and are taught to the young by Father Jerome (Matthew Trumbull), who happens to be Joan's older brother.  Joan lives with her teenage daughter Annie (Pilar Gonzalez); it took Joan some time to stop listening to those who wanted her to stay with her abusive ex-husband.  Joan and her nurse friend Shelly (Sarah Thigpen) have seen it all, until growing number of young gay men, such as Greg (Sam Heldt) get sick with pneumonia and other autoimmune issues. Greg's health rapidly deteriorates, and his partner John (Ben Schnickel) gets to know Joan in the hospital.  One night, Joan takes the unorthodox step of burying her deceased dog in her yard, when Annie confronts her about her compassionate attitude towards the gay men in her care. Many people, including other nurses like Shelly, are afraid that the new illness (soon to be named AIDS) is airborne and contagious. Joan, who has put her life back on track without help from "normal", "good" people, knows that there is no scientific evidence for discriminating against those suffer from AIDS.  Soon enough, Joan is seen burying the cremated remains of AIDS victims in her backyard.

photo by Ric Sechrest

The question of how to live an ethical life dovetails with the question of what makes good art. When the gentle hospital janitor, Tom, asks why some paintings are in museums, local art collector Ryan (Chad Anthony Miller) can only answer that there are no rules. John, who feared he got AIDS from his partner, is soon hospitalized. Joan invites John to come live with her. Joan's radical human kindness has townsfolk shunning her, but also attracts the good-hearted Tom.  Though sick, John tells Joan of his dream of going to New York to be an artist.  The play joyfully alludes to a quote from the Biblical Epistle to the Ephesians: "We are God 's Masterpiece", and perhaps asks us in the audience in 2018 if we have yet learned to treat each other with compassion.
Those who remember the 1980s in general and the preventable spread of AIDS in particular may be worried about those who don't.   Thank goodness for this play.  All aspects of this play will induce a sense of wonder.  Vivienne Galloway's costumes range from down-to-earth nurses to one rainbow priest priest; Galloway also did the makeup for the lesions that cover the many AIDS patients.  This brings me to DeLisa M. White's direction as another great force for revealing our common humanity.  I will never forget a scene in which John stops painting on a canvas to paint around the lesions on Greg's arm, and Greg takes up another brush and paints John's arm.   Rebecca Cunningham's very open sets include the art galleries we cannot see and the spaces where so many loved ones are buried.  All is subtly illuminated by the soft white and red tones of Asa Lipton's lighting.  There is great power in Heather Cunningham as Joan's rejection of the rules that never worked for her, just as there is great warmth in Ric Sechrest's Tom bringing a dying man a self-help book.  If some of these characters are inspired by real people, let's think of individuals we may have known who died of AIDS.  Who could have been saved if the government had treated the infected as people?  When will the cure for AIDS be available?  (See @rftca for some inspiring updates on this.)  In a world where ignorant politicians encourage hate groups, Gina Femia's writing gives us a great opportunity to see the world in a more cooperative light.  You might say that this is a universal story which all kinds of audiences could apply to a variety of situations.

By Ed Malin

Barbara Kahn's new historical play Verzet Amsterdam is running through April 22nd at Theater for the New City.  Roberto Gonzales Jr. and Barbara Kahn direct this exciting tale of ordinary people acting heroically. The title means "Resistance Amsterdam" and refers to a discreet group of anti-Fascists, some part-Jewish, some homosexual, some Communist, who did their best to help others and delay Nazi oppression circa 1943. Getting to see this show on Holocaust Remembrance Day only made it more poignant.
We are watching Frieda Belinfante (Steph Van Vlack),  a renowned cellist and proud lesbian,  forge identity cards.  She does this as much as she can, day and night, to give a chance to escape to Jews and other victims of the invading German racists and their Dutch police collaborators.  (The Belinfante family were of Jewish extraction; they extracted themselves from Portugal at the height of the Catholic oppression of the Jews and came to tolerant, Protestant Amsterdam.)   Following a secret knock, Frieda opens the door for her friend, artist and author Willi Arondeus (Robert Gonzales, Jr.) and for their associates, museum curator Willem Sandberg (Jared Johnston), composer Jan van Gilse (Steve Barkman) and Afro-Dutch Communist organizer Anton de Kom (Carl Ellis Grant).  The brave resistance fighters are afraid of betrayal and reluctant to let new people into their circle, so tonight will test their resolve.  Not only is sculptor Gerrit van der Veen (Christopher Lowe) invited to the meeting, but Frieda finds herself forging papers for a young, beautiful Jewess named Lina (Anya Krawcheck) who remembers being enchanted by Frieda's concerts.  Music written by Jan van Gilse features in the show.

photo by Joe Bly

Since early 1942, the Dutch police have been helping to enforce the second-class status of Jews.  Jews must wear a yellow star, may not take public transportation, cannot drive cars, can only shop at certain hours, must obey a curfew, etc.  Willi Arondeus, a defiant homosexual, is seen seducing a police officer (Paolo Solis) and, while they consume a choice bottle of wine that once belonged to a Jew, Willi discovers that the police will soon crack down on refugees with forged identity cards.  Amsterdam created a population registry just a few years before the Nazi invasion, and a thorough search of this registry will soon reveal who is living with fake papers.
The ring of resistance fighters each have their own reasons for risking their lives.  Anton de Kom, whose family is from the then-Dutch colony of Suriname, has lived through racial discrimination.  Lina stayed in Amsterdam to care for her sick grandmother, who has unfortunately passed away.  Lina wants to rejoin her family in London, but she is also romantically drawn to Frieda.  Frieda initially dismisses Lina's advances as compensating for the loneliness and horrors of war.  Lina answers with some of the most beautiful moments in the play. Is it worth living in hiding when there is a chance of helping others?  Those of the group who are able set out to bomb the Amsterdam registry.  This true story terrifying comes to life onstage.  Who among the main characters will survive?  Who will tell their stories?
If you've seen Barbara Kahn's work, you most certainly have learned something about the past and had fun doing so.  Gonzales and Kahn take a lot of risks with their direction, and the result is an engrossing show. The cast of Verzet Amsterdam features several "repeat offenders" who are very skilled at asking the important questions.  Right now, would you blow up a building to help innocent people from being deported?  It's startling that our country has to reckon with public displays of fascism, so I take inspiration from these characters.  The University of Suriname has been renamed in honor of Anton de Kom; Carl Ellis Grant gives an earnest performance that may show you why Communists took great risks to fight back. Robert Gonzales, Jr. is flamboyantly unforgettable as Willi Arondeus, and though I hadn't heard of him I am thrilled to hear he told his captors "Let it be known that homosexuals are not cowards." Steph Van Vlack is a tough, vivacious Frieda.  When her resolve is pushed to the limit, it is joyous to see her dance to the popular 1932 song "Bei Mir Bistu Shein" with the lovely Anya Krawcheck as Lina. The more that Willi and Frieda assert their LGBT identities, the freer they feel.  They even laughingly tell each other "oh what a splendid couple we would have made, I weren't a homosexual and you weren't a lesbian." I'm sure anyone can take a few pointers from these people who lived their best lives under such adversity.  Marc Marcante's set is big enough to allow for multiple locations; all show us the privations of war and the great joys of working together.  The lighting, also designed by Marc Marcante, often made me feel like I was in hiding, facing overwhelming odds.  Everett Clark's costumes help emphasize the dignity of these characters; there are a lot of nice bowties.  Joy Linscheid's sound design definitely enhances the play.  Like the Gestapo, I was not prepared to hear that explosion.

By Ed Malin

OurBar is a monthly scripted comedy series which has been performing at bars in Manhattan since 2009.  I went to the April edition at Failte Irish Whiskey Bar, along with dozens of devotees. The theme was "Bare".  It was a constant stream of funny, interrelated scenes which touch on many unique current events, such as March Madness and Philadelphia Eagles super-fans.  Now, imagine you are holding a drink and follow me.
In Grizzly Snooze by Josh Black, Mia (Maria Maloney) thinks she has finally found a stable boyfriend in Dylan (Brian Henderson). Why does Dylan prefer hibernation naps to regular sleep? Why does he eat blueberries? Is true love enough for Mia to adjust to living with a bear?
In Tough Tattoo by Bimini Lee Wright, Alex (Chris Behan) and Tony (Brendan Butz) push the limits of the fierce animal tattoo. Unicorns and butterflies have their followers, but the cute mongoose can defeat the venomous cobra.
In Firewall of Love by Louis Gaudio, Fitzy (Lindsey Ashlen) and Gertrude (Alicia Dawn Bullen) are talking about how to retain a connection with an ex-boyfriend. One way is to keep logging in with his Netflix password, watching the same shows after he does, until he discovers the violation and changes his password.
The centerpiece of this show is March Hookup Madness by Joe Jung, Andrew McCleod, Karen Bray and Lauren Roth-Shaw. In four such sketches peppered throughout the performance, sportscasters give us some insight into this joyful part of human mating season. Is Eagles fandom attractive anywhere outside Philly? Is there any worse insult than being told your genitals are as deflated as one of Tom Brady's footballs?  Sad but true: a dad-friendly bar (full of people showing each other pictures of their young children) can be alienating. How can you talk to a man-hating man? In a world of crazy sloshed people, can you blame a cute bartender for waiting for her semi-mythical Tinder swipe, "Ethan", to show up?

photo by Lloyd Mulvey

Purell Doesn't Work by Lauren Schaeffer gives Nate (Benjamin Bunce) the chance to really listen to his girlfriend Meg's (Bimini Lee Wright) fears, hopes and dreams. She spends a lot of her time cleaning her hands, taking off her clothes, putting her purse in the fridge, insisting that we don't know there aren't bedbugs everywhere… Is there a way to love an O.C.D. person?  This sketch at least shows there is a method to the madness.
All Your Friends Are Terrible People by Peter Turo is a delightful intervention that could save friendships. April (Justine Salata) and Katie (Lauren Schaefer) meet on a regular basis to insult each other and express thoughts not always welcome in the workplace. For example: no one cares who cute to think your kids are, no one likes your PowerPoint presentations. Jen the Bartender (Jennifer Logue) rates the session as a success.
Amid the emotionally-vulnerable comedy is a nice piece of drama: Flashback by Adam Carpenter. Pete (Paulie Myers) expects his friend Demos (Mark Koenig) to be nervous on this night of a blind date. Even more oddly, Demos asks what year it is and is surprised that he has hair. Demos claims to have traveled back in time ten years. His date tonight, Kellyn (Justine Salata) is someone he loved enough to marry and was worth the concomitant hassles of moving to Westchester County and having a adorable son, Micah, now age 5.  Did Demos just die in a train accident somewhere near fatal Westchester? Are his tales from the future going to drive away his mate? Aren't the things we've done worth doing again?
And now for something completely egalitarian. Balls In Your Court by David Lanson allows John (Louis Gaudio), Gustave (Brendan Butz) and Sigmund (Casey Blake) to publicly discuss the many tactics for scratching itchy pubes. There is in fact a society for this, which has designated hundreds of official moves such as "the rake" and "the Louisiana filibuster". Deana (KL Thomas) overhears the men and reminds them that women have always known the ways to relieve their pubic itches. She cites "pancakes not waffles" among the obvious realignment solutions.  The rest of the bar chimes in. I guess man is smart but woman's smarter.
Chris-Crossed by Matt Haws lets a group of macho men explore a topic which women discuss 24/7, namely who is the cutest movie Chris? There is a lot of support for Chris Hemsworth (he who is Thor), some nerd love for Chris Evans (he who is synonymous with Captain America), some fanatical insistence that Chris Pine (latter day Captain Kirk) is the Chris, and some write-in votes for rapper Ludacris and others. We hear from Jack (Chris Behan), Bobby (Adam Carpenter), Scott (Matt Haws), Hank (David Lanson), Karl (Paulie Myers), Paula (Lindsey Ashlen) and Sally (KL Thomas).
OurBar is really funny.  OurBar shows no signs of slowing down. I came to the second show of the evening, which was quite well attended. I'm sure the audience's energy helped the ensemble, who had already performed these timely scenes a little while before. It is a time when some people don't have time to laugh at life, but the work of this committed group may be true best medicine.

By Ed Malin

Phoebe Legere, powerhouse musical theater performer, is back with a charming new show called Speed Queen. Lissa Moira directs and lights this energetic, boogie-woogie piano and accordion-filled true story about the dapper, butch, 20th Century boat racing woman professionally known as Joe Carstairs.
During World War I, the sixteen year-old Marion Barbara Carstairs (she dislikes this name) is an ambulance driver. She develops a taste for going fast, prefers to be called Joe, and after the war heads to "Gay Paree". There, he meets and falls in love with Dolly Wilde, niece of legendary author Oscar Wilde, who was jailed for homosexual behavior.  Dolly's gender expression tends the other way from Oscar's; she is very assertive and masculine.  Next, Joe heads to London, a place where, seeing as many young men were recently killed in battle, young women are cross-dressing in dinner jackets and going to cocktail parties.  Natalie Barney hosts a salon, in which she sings the " Hymn to Aphrodite" by Sappho. Aphrodite is the Greek goddess of love.  The poet Sappho is known for running a school for women on the island of Lesbos; more on that later. Radclyffe Hall, lesbian literary icon, is another of Joe's lovers. Legere portrays most of these characters, who surely deserve a greater mention in history. First, Joe runs an upscale chauffeur business in which he only employs female drivers.   Joe receives a Steiff doll named Lord Tod Wadley from his wildly partying girlfriend, Ruth Baldwin. Tod Wadley will remain with Joe for life. He gets a privileged perch inside the piano during the show. Joe also meets and dates the outlandish actress Tallulah Bankhead, who is as out lesbian as one could be in the 1920s. Tallulah, putting her foot on the piano keys, provides us with a "footnote": " Imitation is the sincerest form of flatterty that medicrity can pay to greatness." This quote comes from Oscar Wilde, and is used apropos of the women's fashion trends Tallulah has started. Tallulah explains much better (and hates on Bette Davis) as she sings us "Bitch Stole My Look".  In the world of entertainment, we now have "imitainment".
Joe, however, creates his own style.  Joe is the child of wealthy people who struggled with addiction (song: "Mummy Was a Junkie").  Upon his mother's death in 1925, now able to afford whatever he wants, Joe is a prominent speedboat racer.  The captain's hat and jacket Joe has been wearing and which endear him to so many ladies look amazing when he gets into his boat.  Onstage, a gorgeous wooden speedboat called the Estelle (boat design by Lytza Colon) is suspended from ropes (rigging by Janet Clancy) and triumphantly driven to victory.  Oddly enough, the sexist male judges rob Joe of victory (throwing the name " Betty" around as an added insult).  Joe is moved to buy an island in the Bahamas called Whale Cay and turn it into a lesbian paradise.  As German film actress Marlene Dietrich's yacht approaches, Joe sings "Welcome To Lesbian Island".  They enjoy life and reminisce about gay times in Weimar Germany, Greta Garbo and other lovers of women, but, in 1932, the world is becoming less tolerant.  Dietrich's sentiment, " you need to know when the party's over and get the @#%& out" are sadly echoed when Ruth Baldwin dies of an overdose in London in 1937.
Joe continues to enjoy his private, shotgun-controlled island. In a beautiful, cosmic finale, Death (David "Zen" Mansley) invites Joe and Lord Tod Warley into the Estelle to float once more around the audience.
When Phoebe Legere is dancing (choreography by Shawn Rawls) or otherwise not at the piano, additional music is played from the Speed Queen Band: Phoebe Legere on piano,  Sean Harkness on guitar, Rob Mitzner on drums, Skip Ward on bass. All of the songs are rousing.  I sat in the front row and could really feel Phoebe Legere's energy throughout.  She is a consummate preformer  whose work you simply  must experience. Hats off to Lissa Moira as well for bringing out so many unique, unapologetic female voices. Between them, they have done a lot of work which examines the nature of stardom.  Surprisingly, this is their first collaboration.  I will definitely be interested in seeing any future collaborations.

By Ed Malin

On my block, in Brooklyn, there is a car with the bumper sticker "Gun Control Means Hitting Your Target". The vehicle has Florida plates.  With school shootings and other massacres so often in the news, I have wondered what kind of person would persist in such bumper sticker philosophy, and what I would say to them if we ever met.
Shooter is a play by Sam Graber, directed by Katrin Hilbe.  This non-linear production has been developed by the WorkShop Theater. Its current home at Theater Lab is a stage (designed by Sarah Edkins) decked out in extreme whiteness, with some surfaces covered in silver. Timely as the topic of gun violence may be, I was looking forward to seeing a play which might take on the sometimes complex motivations of a shooter as well as the devastating impact on the community.  It's not an easy play to write. "Shooter" features a disgruntled, white, male, American-born gunman (so we are not bogged down in any other ethnic stereotypes).  Otherwise, I got a little overwhelmed by the details of the story as it was presented near the beginning of the run.  The play is replete with very bright lighting effects (designed by Cheyenne Sykes) and sinister sound effects (designed by Andy Evan Cohen), which are part of an artistic vision that is apparently trying to show us all the pervasive threats in our world.  We may be looking inside Jim's head (he's the one they, and he himself, call "Shooter"), as given to us in a ricochet-type chronology. Here's what I was able to piece together:
As the play opens, a shooting range instructor named Troy (Michael Gnat) tells us a little bit of what we are about to witness.  Troy has a serious moustache and through his quite wonderful performance seems to represent the antiquated nature of certain beliefs about guns. Then, we find out that Jim (Ean Sheehy) is in police custody, that there has been a school shooting, and that his old friend and lawyer, Ben-David (David Perez-Ribada) has rushed in to help.  Jim's other old friend, Alan (CK Allen) also appears on the scene.  In the rush of dialogue, including admonitions to Jim (don't talk to anyone) and to Alan (I told you not to come), plus interludes with seemingly contradictory calls to 9-1-1 and a chorus of offstage actors vocalizing gunshot sounds, it's easy to miss one or two fleeting references to someone named Gavin.  We do meet Gavin (Nicholas-Tyler Corbin), unexpectedly, at the 2/3 point in the play, or just before the act break that would have greatly helped this production, had it been included.  Who is the dark, laconic, teenaged Gavin? The namesake of the play! But let's try to fill in what the production leads us to believe it is about it until we meet its crucial character.

photo by Carol Rosegg

No one likes Jim, including Jim himself. While the friends of his youth have landed respectable careers and have moved to the ostentatious side of the lake, Jim has suffered the indignity of having his wife and daughter walk out on him. Whatever Jim did for work, he isn't doing it anymore.  At some point, Jim shows up at a fancy party for his ex-wife, to which he was not invited, and is ejected after his former buddies remove the gun Jim brought along. Another time, when Jim in contemporary survival camouflage (costumes designed by Cathy Small) accosts Ben-David in a parking lot, he justifiably receives this diss: "I'm telling everybody from here on out, all my colleagues, the entire legal system: THIS GUY NEVER GETS HELP."  CK Allen and David Perez-Ribada as Jim's upwardly-mobile friends deliver very believable performances which help move the play along. Jim may not have a logical reason for shooting lessons, but he does tell it to us in great detail.  Jim knows what it used to mean, in his father's day, to be a man.  Jim wants to be a man, though as we see him in action with Troy, Jim is a terrible shooter. It looks like another sad, ill-advised tale of an ineffectual white dude. And then along came Gavin.
The handful of scenes with Gavin change everything. Suddenly, and going against everything else we have seen in the play, we are asked to believe that Jim is a hero.  Jim, and other licensed gun holders like him, could they be what's preventing bad shooters from making things even worse? I hope this play gives you the chance to examine this issue in greater detail.
Jim's heroic nature (and longing for traditional manhood in general) certainly surprised me. Any time Jim began a monologue, it struck me as rather inarticulate.  One time, he is explaining to Gavin how a modern man needs to be EXTRA-LARGE.  The only thing more awkward than this statement was Gavin's response, apropos of nothing, that he was planning to shoot up a school. Are we to take Jim's insecure musings as the inspiration for Gavin's bloodlust?  Does Jim rescue the school children (including his own daughter) from Gavin's misguided interpretation of Jim's interpretation of his father's manliness? On the other hand, who else in the fictional world of this play is going to help? You can't outrun a bullet, of course, unless you believe the entertainment industry.  Troy teaches marksmanship, and otherwise keeps his distance from consequences. Nice, he muses, is a city in France.  He even seems (wisely or otherwise) to fear that if he knows about any planned shooting, he would be tangentially responsible. Isn't he, though? Why would the world need more pistol-packing vigilantes as opposed to fewer shooting ranges? In this play, a successful urologist who doubts himself tells us that men confess their insecurities to him on the examining table. While the set does sport some fine mirrors, we could all go home and look in our own. That ought to be a good place to start.

By Ed Malin

The East Village Playhouse, the new home of The City Kids Foundation, is an intimate space where you can catch the amazing one-man show A Brooklyn Boy.  Moises Roberto Belizario, former Artistic Director of City Kids, directs Steven Prescod in a story which includes dozens of voices and much vibrant dancing.   Book, Music and Lyrics are by Belisario and Prescod, with inspiration drawn from Prescod's childhood in Brooklyn.
The show includes vocal recordings by Alyson Brown, Clinton "Isaiah" Graves III, Ben Joseph, and Cenophia Mitchell, and additional music by Anjelica Dorman, Terrance James, Ernest Lewis, and Ben Vernon.
At a political rally, Steven asks why people are sitting down instead of protesting in the streets.  To answer this question, we go back in time to Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn in 1990.  A memorable party is happening, and Kathy, the fifteen year-old host, is romanced by the smooth-talking Jamaican, GT (the man with the gold chain).  We see Steven, as both Cathy and GT, dance with himself.  These characters are his parents, and Steven is born soon after.  His father promises he will get ten jobs and stand by his mother (who wonders if he can get one job).  It looks like a beautiful life has begun, but, as Steven tells the story, his father had a temper and soon was incarcerated.  Steven meets his father years later, on a visit to jail, after growing up with his wonderful mother and vivacious Caribbean relatives.
Hip-hop storytelling brings Steven's childhood to life.  For his fifth birthday, Steven gets a party at Chuck E. Cheese's.  However, the big rat is scary, just like the ones on the street.  For his sixth birthday, he gets a bike, which is a great joy to ride with training wheels.  His mother takes the training wheels off, and although Steven isn't ready, he takes a risk in order to learn.  This touching scene is backed by the song "Mama Don't Let Me Go".
As Steven grows older, he can bike around with new friends, some of whom are getting into trouble.  Steven doesn't want to "jux" unsuspecting people on the street, but if he doesn't, he fears the neighborhood will think he's a punk.  The story goes back and forth between some dangerous incidents (a gang fight in a bodega, his friend Kwame getting shot and ending up in a coma) and Steven's court date.  He is given a choice between 5 years probation and 7 years upstate.  The catch is, he has to explain to his mother, in court, what he did.  We see more reasons why Steven is thankful to be alive.  As he grows older, he sees grown men fighting his young friends, and a drunk white guy who menaces him (an opportunity to think about Jim Crow). Ultimately, his friends are happy to see him interning with an arts workshop (City Kids), which they refer to as that "Sammy Davis Jr. program"  No one should have to live in a world where cops expect to be thanked for not shooting you.  As the performance ends, Steven tells how he anonymously turned in to the police a gun which his friend left with him. Guided by religious role models (accompanied by the song "Receive My Praise"), Steven seeks to take himself out of the cycle of violence.
The energy in The East Village Playhouse is powerful indeed.  I didn't mind the tight seating arrangements, not when amazing dancing was happening right in front of my eyes.  Moises Roberto Belizario told the audience the story of this piece.  Not only did the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge enjoy an excerpt they saw a few years ago, the show has grown and will tour to Los Angeles and beyond.  In accordance with the mission of City Kids, I will post that young people are encouraged to see this show.  I have a few young New Yorkers I am telling about this fine production.
Steven Prescod's ability to sing, dance and play upwards of 30 roles for an hour is a joy to behold.

By Ed Malin

Time Stands Still, the 2009 play by Pulitzer Prize winner Donald Margulies, is being given a thoughtful revival by Ego Actus and Lung Tree Productions at Theater for the New City. Joan Kane directs this story of a photographer and a journalist, a couple who find their thrills in keeping the greater public aware of the plight of people living in war zones in the Middle East and Africa.  In a year where "The Last Men of Aleppo"-a documentary about brave Syrian volunteers who rescue their compatriots from bombed buildings-was nominated for an Academy Award, this touching play is still relevant and raises all sorts of questions about people's abilities to connect.  In any case, whether or not you work in a high-risk area, you may leave the theater asking yourself "is love war?" 10% of ticket sales will be donated to Physicians for Human Rights.
As our story opens on a spacious New York apartment, James (Timothy Weinert) is helping the injured Sarah (Maggie Alexander) up a flight of stairs and safely back into their home.  We see a sweeping view of the Williamsburg Bridge; our story takes place in the formerly outré waterfront area of Brooklyn.  James and Sarah, however, seem to spend most of their time on assignment overseas. After college, James walked away from a stable future and went to Somalia as a reporter.  He met Sarah in East Jerusalem and the pair have since had many adventures together.   In between scenes, photos of Syria by Simon S. Safieh are projected on the walls. Right now, Sarah still has bruises on her face (makeup excellently applied by and a knee brace and crutches to remind her of her last near-death experience in Mosul. Many of these details about Sarah and James are only disclosed as part of conversations with their publisher friend Richard (Malcolm Stephenson) and his new "mid-life crisis" girlfriend Mandy (Connie Castanzo), who visit the couple to welcome them back and help publish their findings.
You might expect Sarah to have a short fuse, and that side surely comes out when she speaks with Mandy, who has not seen much of the world and seems sincerely in love with Richard after four months together. Richard, who once dated intelligent women his own age (even Sarah dated him 20 years ago, as we later discover) admits to a great sense of relief at his current, simpler love. With his last ex, everything had to be discussed; choosing a place for dinner "was like arbitration." We might be asking ourselves if shallow love can be true love.  But then we hear of Sarah's translator ("fixer") during her assignment in Iraq. This man, Tariq, was gentle, barely spoke English according to James (Sarah says he taught himself English by reading Hemingway over and over again) and yet inspired trust and more.
While James writes a subtle book on the meaning of horror films (observe the Red Scare themes in the 1950s "Invasion of the Body Snatchers"), Sarah drifts away from the relationship. They have dated for eight years but never married. Mandy, who is having Richard's baby, inspired James to propose to Sarah.  James didn't have any rights regarding Sarah's hospital care, and is ready for matrimony and fatherhood. Sadly, the publishing world is not ready for the couple's work.  James feels that he risks his life to show the peaceful public what is really going on.  Mandy counters that we should all try to see the joy in life, otherwise what's the point?
There are many ways to have a relationship.  Sarah has always been an adrenaline-fueled adventure seeker.  Why should James, a vital, muscular young guy, suddenly want to settle down and lose all the freedom he has always had?  How did James figure out that Sarah and Tariq (who was blown up by a roadside bomb) were more than friends?  We are referred to the classic film "Days of Wine and Roses", a story about two amorous alcoholics and what transpires when one drunk wants to try a sober lifestyle.
This play is more than a play.  It speaks of films and ideas and asks why people want to have certain jobs and read (or don't read the news).   As the truth is slowly revealed, we see characters struggling to hold in more information than they care to share. All of this is a triumph for director Joan Kane.  Since the action covers several months and the characters rarely leave Marc Marcante's spacious set, we rely on Bruce A! Kraemer's lighting to cover up some things, reveal other things, and keep us moving forward in time.  For a play called "Time Stands Still", that is quite tricky.  Sarah can't get over the deceased Tariq.  It seems that the more time passes, the more humane and enobled Tariq seems.  Maggie Alexander as Sarah does an exquisite job of showing us what's it's like for a real mover to have to sit still and heal her wounds.   Tim Weinert as James has been on the go since Sarah was injured, and shows us the agony of his own inertia.  The perkiness of Connie Costanzo as Mandy and the grandfatherly joy of Malcolm Stephenson as Richard must be seen to be believed.  The theater is a great place to examine the comic side of the generation gap, especially in relationships.  Cat Fisher's costumes are the perfect way to feel at home, even if you're not sure what that is.