That great quote from "The Barefoot Contessa": A Review of "Spelling Bee" at POP

Before the review proper begins, a few disclaimers (and a clarification):

1) My older daughter was five-time, city-wide spelling bee champion (grades 4 through 8) in New Britain;

2) That same daughter, now a rising college sophomore, is a summer administrative intern at Playhouse on Park;

3) A doctor from our family's medical past was an original investor in The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee;

and

4) The "great quote" referred to in the title of this post is delivered by the wife of Humphrey Bogart's character in The Barefoot Contessa and is addressed to a drunken starlet who's just asked, "What's she [Ava Gardner] got that I don't?"  She responds:

What she's got you can't spell, and what you've got you used to have.

 



Photo: Rich Wagner

 

I offer that great piece of script writing, first, because it's one of the greatest put-down lines in Hollywood history (and delivered by the most minor of characters, no less), and, secondly, because the first half of it is so apropos here: What makes this show, and this Playhouse on Park (POP) production, so good is hard to put into words (much less spell 'em).

 

If you don't know the show, it is what the title suggests, following six young spellers (and even four pre-selected audience members) as they try to become the next Putnam County Spelling Champ.

 

Yes, they're the geeks, misfits, and overachievers with all the quirks one expects from those for whom the correct spelling of  "syzygy" is so central to their young lives (not to mention to the lives of the adults who've helped make them this way).  And, yes, the script takes every opportunity (and there are many, many, many such opportunities) to have us laugh at them.  Thanks to Susan Haefner's very smart direction of a talented cast and Robert Tomasulo's tight pit band, I haven't laughed out loud (would that be guffawed?) so often at a theatre in a while.

 

The cast (in alphabetical order) of Kevin Barlowski (Leaf), Hillary Ekwall (Logainne), Emily Kron (the M.C. and former winner Rona), Steven Mooney (William), Maya Naff (Marcy), Joel Newsome (the Vice Principal), Norman Payne (the parolee/grief counsellor), Natalie Sannes (Olive), and Scott Scaffidi (Chip) is very fine across the board.  Each character gets her/his moment or two or three in the spotlight, and each makes the most of it, although this reviewer was particularly impressed by Mr. Barlowski and Mr. Mooney (reunited happily, along with Ms. Ekwall, from POP's You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown) and Ms. Sannes, whose big song simply isn't as good a song as many of the others, but she still made it the single most affecting moment of the show).

 

Which returns us to the Barefoot Contessa line: for all the jokes and goofiness of this show, there's a heart and emotional impact that just shouldn't work...that is, in short, simply hard to spell out.  The show works somehow, and this cast and crew work it very, very well.

 

My only "complaint" is that sometimes the swinging band could, at times, drown out a line or two of a song, but that could just be my ever-aging hearing.  Trust me, you'll hear enough, and laugh enough (and maybe even cry a little), to make up for those few.

 

My only caveat (for parents who may want to bring their young spellers to the show) is that there is an entire song -- performed hilariously (with candy!) by Mr. Saffredi -- dedicated to the physical manifestation of a young man's adolescent yearnings.  Just FYI....but, if your youngsters are good spellers, they probably won't be learning anything new here anyway. 

 

The show runs through July 20th, but I'd suggest getting tickets soon -- before word really gets out and makes getting a ticket harder than spelling "crapaud."

 

 

"...hit him like a FREIIIIIIIIIIIGHT train..." (a review of THE TRESTLE AT POPE LICK CREEK)

I must confess something that regular readers of this blog will find surprising not in the least: that my most consistent nightmare is to wake up to find myself in some contemporary dramatic play.  While I may be more pollyanna-with-rose-colored-glasses-ish than most folk, I'm also undeniably glad I don't see my world as dark and alienating as do so many current playwrights.

Naomi Wallace's The Trestle at Pope Lick Creek, which just ended a brief run at Playhouse on Park (as part of its mature-themed On the Edge Series), offers a place in which no one can love wisely nor well and all physical interaction is an unhealthy blend of distance, violence, and destruction.  Indeed, in this world, if, for some reason, your loved one can't hit you, you help them out by doing it to yourself.

It's a land where both the government and private industry have abandoned its people, and, bereft of that support, a similar abdication of responsibility filters down to families: wives and husbands, parents and children, boyfriend and girlfriend (if those are even the right words to describe our teen protagonists, Dalton and Pace, played with clarity and pathos by Wesley Zurick and Leslie Gauthier).

It's a place where, to find life, the young court death by playing chicken with a train that, unlike them, has the luxury of just passing through their sad little town on the way to somewhere -- anywhere! -- else, and where the grown-ups try to make their conversations matter by trying not to break dishes.

The good news is that Dalton's mother, Gin (played beautifully, yet powerfully, by Melody Gray), seems to find the strength to try to change her world -- no matter how few of those around her are willing (or able) to follow.  One cannot, however, even by play's end, be too convinced that her actions will amount to much, if anything, but the fact that she knows she must try is as "happy" as anything in this play gets.

The production was very, very good in every facet -- which is probably why I didn't like it so much.  As directed by Dawn Loveland, the characters' powerlessness was inescapable, and the small cast realized (i.e.,  "made real") that smothering emptiness. Richard Brundage (as Dalton's lost father) and Rick Malone (as another lost dad) were also effective in conveying their fears that they have/had nothing to offer their children. 

In short, the cast and crew are to be applauded for their powerful work, but, when the pain seems that real, it's hard to say, "Man, I really enjoyed that!"

But, then again, I'm Pollyanna.

A Review of "Lend Me a Tenor" at Playhouse on Park

The secret to a good farce is a premise that, on the face of it, is eminently believable, but then, through the vision of the playwright, brought to life by both the director and the cast, pushes that credible premise to the verge of lunacy...while never forgetting the human heart at its core.  Not an easy feat, as you can easily imagine.

Ken Ludwig's Lend Me a Tenor is one of those scripts that, if done with energy and skill, works very, very well, and, as directed by Jerry Winters for Playhouse on Park, it delivers.

I should note that I have had a relationship, mostly by marriage, with classical performing arts companies (not unlike the Cleveland opera company depicted in the play), so the credibility factor of a) a narcissistic tenor, b) a panicked and frustrated executive director, c) several wannabe performers, and d) a whole bunch of fawning guild-members and/or fans, is decidedly high in my experience.  So, from the start, the farce could play out almost in any way, and I'd have been along for the ride.  In short, trust me, this scenario COULD happen (almost the way it's been imagined).   ;)

Mr. Winters' direction of the fine cast is crisp and light.  Highlights among the cast, for me, are Mike Boland's Saunders, Jeff Gonzalez's Max, Lilly Warton's Maggie, and Corrado Alicata's bellhop (with Saunder's proposed announcement to the audience the funniest thing I've heard in a long time).  While the other cast members (Robert Wilde as the larger-than-life tenor, Ashley Ford as the tenor's wife, Katie Vincent as the aspiring soprano, Donna Schilke as the head of the opera guild) all do very fine jobs, their casting underscores the one weakness of the production, through no fault of their talent or even portrayals.

Photo Credit: Rich Wagner
(l-r: Wagner, Boland, Gonzalez, Alicata, and Schilke)

The play is set in Cleveland, Ohio in 1934, but, aside from the art deco doors and the phone in the hotel suite, I never felt that this was anything but the present time.  While this feeling could stem from my too often thinking and dressing like it's 1942, every one in those latter roles looked too contemporary to me. Maybe I've seen the Marx Brothers' A Night at the Opera one too many times, but the head of the opera guild should look like Margaret Dumont (not the svelte, energetic Ms. Schilke), and, while opera singers throughout history have come in all shapes and sizes, a more Pavarotti-sized tenor, might have made the plot play out in an even more farcical fashion.

Now, this, perhaps idiosyncratic, view should not suggest that the execution of the play by the cast and crew isn't top-notch nor anything short of very, very funny.  Whether it's 1934 or 2014, the ego and the jealousy, the lust and the love, the ambition and the flatulence, are laughable and recognizable.

And, no matter the year, nothing can warm a very cold night (or day) like a good, hearty laugh -- not to mention a swell love story, too (but no spoilers here)!

Lend Me a Tenor runs at Playhouse on Park through February 9.  

Who Let the Dogs Out (sorry, I couldn't help myself): A Review of "The Hound of the Baskervilles"

Photo: Rich Wagner

Sherlock Holmes has become big once again on the screen (big and small -- twice), and, whenever an icon like Holmes returns, it makes one ponder what aspect of the character the culture deems itself to be lacking.  I really have no idea in this case (given that neither the film nor television version resembles Doyle’s detective), but here’s hoping that it’s simply the recognition that intelligence is a good thing.  (Certainly way too few of our public and popular figures seem to possess it, or, if they do, they continue to do a very, very good job of hiding that fact.)

But Holmes, as played by the hilarious Rich Hollman, returns to Connecticut in a wonderful way this holiday season as the lead character in Playhouse on Park’s three-man production of The Hound of the Baskervilles by Steven Canney and John Nicholson.  This fast-paced, every-actor-plays-multiple-characters-in-a-ridiculously-daft-way show is the kind of production in which Playhouse on Park has excelled these past few years, e.g., The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) and The Mystery of Irma Vep, and its Victorian mojo recalls their Around the World In 80 Days (which remains one of this critic’s favorite productions at POP).

Tom Ridgely returns as director, and, under his deft touch, Hollman, with Brennan Caldwell (various Baskervilles, et alia) and POP co-artistic director Sean Harris (Watson, et alia), get to have so much fun that the audience can’t help but to enjoy the ride.  Indeed, the three very talented actors clearly enjoy each other so much on stage that the improvised beginnings of the two acts are even more hilarious than the rest of the script (which, truth be told, drags a bit here and there…through no fault of the acting or direction).  Among the many, many comic highlights are Hollman’s portrayal of a horse swallowed by a swamp (twice), Caldwell’s fear of ghosts, and Harris’ Watson’s need to be loved.

The Playhouse’s technical team once again delivers a clean, well detailed, and nicely executed production.

At this time of year, audiences seek warmth and, well…for lack of a better term, joy.  Playhouse on Park’s The Hound of the Baskervilles, which runs through December 22, provides just that.  A touch of mystery, a lotta laughter, and not a little silliness…just the perfect holiday brew.

Othello at Playhouse on Park: A Review

    
     It's always a very good thing to experience talented actors plying their trade in one of Shakespeare's tragedies -- especially in an intimate space like Playhouse on Park.  There's a visceral pleasure in hearing words that, despite the distance in space and time, are so often ridiculously familiar.  And that familiarity of language, of course, only underscores the realization that human nature (its nobility, its comedy, and its baseness) has changed little from when the Bard wrote his plays.
     Thus one feels that the familiar plot, surrounding the conniving Iago (Tom Coiner) tricking Othello (RJ Foster), a veritable force-of-nature, into a raging jealousy over a perceived affair between his wife Desdemona (Celine Held) and his equally loyal lieutenant Cassio (Aidan Eastwood-Paticchio), could have happened yesterday...and, well, probably did.
     Set in contemporary times, in modern dress, this production directed by Sasha Bratt, attempts a slight reclamation of Iago with an opening scene in which the soldier, at some point in the recent past, has been captured and waterboarded by the enemy.  This, I assume, is meant to explain his own jealousy of Cassio and even of Othello himself; shouldn't he too be recognized in some way for his heroism, for his service to the state?

     But no matter the ultimate reason for his scheming, Coiner's Iago takes over the play while scaring us with the efficiency of his plot and entertaining us with the deviltry of his wit.  Yes, Othello and Desdemona love one another passionately -- even as things fall apart (the performances of both Foster and Held just get stronger and stronger as the play progresses), and Emilia (Jennifer Polansky) becomes the equal of Iago in all the best ways (in fact, the best scene in the production is the one between the two women in Desdemona's bed chamber), but scene after scene it is Iago that draws, and deserves, our attention.

     That said, I cannot help but admit that I struggled with the adaptation (a fast-paced 2+ hours) because the contemporary setting, and especially the costuming by Erin Kacmarik, resulted in a jumble of conflicting concerns that just did not work for me. 
     The setting for most of the show, as the set design by Christopher Hoyt suggests, is the battlefield lodgings (a.k.a., tents) of Othello and his army.  Now, in Elizabethan times, women, who may have been welcomed on the road with their military husbands, may not have had a lot of casual options in dress, but in the 21st century such choices abound, and I'm pretty sure that no matter how well-to-do, privileged, and/or sheltered Desdemona might be, she wouldn't be wearing the dresses that Ms. Held wears, much less the high heels.  She looks great, but she wouldn't be able to make it to the mess hall in those shoes.  (Indeed, her and Emilia's outfits make the snappy safari ensembles of Ava Gardner and Grace Kelley in Mogambo seem downright practical!) In a completely different vein, Othello wears the same khaki pants and black t-shirt whether he be fresh from a victorious battle in Cyprus or disturbed, in Venice, mid-lovemaking.
     This may seem, at first, like trifling (especially given how much period costuming can cost a company), but, as a result, the contemporary dress made me question Desdemona's willingness to let her husband boss her about, beat her, and eventually... (Yes, I'm well aware that there are women who stay in abusive relationships, but the submissive way Desdemona acts, even after Othello makes it clear of his severe displeasure with her, now rings a bit false.)  Even now, she may not leave him, but the conversation would be decidedly different.
      In the end, perhaps, this is the beauty of Shakespearean drama: making us all consider so much of our experience -- maybe even more than any of us expect.
     Othello opens the fifth main-stage season of the Playhouse and runs through October 20th.

This ain't your father's "Cabaret," old chum!

Regular readers of Connecticut Wit know that my preference in musicals runs Gershwin-Squared, Richard Rodgers (with Hart first then Hammerstein), Cole Porter, Cahn and Van Heusen, and the rare Sondheim (i.e., only when he's the lyricist for Jule Styne or Leonard Bernstein).  They'd also know that my preferred stage version of scandalous behavior is Pal Joey's approach to his "mice" --- to "treat a lady like a dame and a dame like a lady."   And they'd certainly be able to figure out that my musical-cum-Nazis of choice would be the one with the would-be-nun with the Viennese kids dressed in old curtains.

So how then can I give a rave review to the disturbing and erotic production of Cabaret that is playing at Playhouse on Park until July 21?
 

Photos by Rich Wagner

Because it's so bloody well conceived, directed, acted, sung, and danced.  Everybody involved in this production makes it work. 

Sean Harris' direction maintains the perfect balance between rousing production numbers of the Kit Kat Klub and the deadly serious social problems that rap, at first, lightly on its door, then come flying through its windows like a brick, and finally tear the place (not to mention Germany, Europe, and the world) apart. 

Colin Britt's musical direction is remarkable (yet again); his marvelously precise ensemble can raise the heat and chill to the bone in frighteningly swift succession. 

And what can be said of Darlene Zoller's choreography? In the intimate space that is Playhouse on Park's theatre, an audience member gets to know the scantily-dressed, lithe, and acrobatic chorus of dancers very well quite quickly.  Indeed, I think, after last Wednesday's performance, I'd be married to at least two of them in some southern states!
 

The performances are all very fine and several truly remarkable.  Brendan Norton's Emcee (above top) lords over the action like the twisted puppet-master he is -- yet with a manic energy that he somehow manages to have implode in front of us.  And while Erin Lindsey Krom's Sally Bowles and Jake Lowenthal's Cliff give us the full arc of doomed love (from naive devil-may-caring to disillusioned horror) that we expect from Cabaret, for this audience member, Kathleen Huber's Fraulein Schneider and Damian Buzzerio's Herr Schultz (seen below) take this production to a whole other level.  Huber is so natural and compelling that I have a hard time imagining her having to make her decision about marrying her Jewish suitor every night.  And if (Spoiler Alert!) you don't think a pineapple is a loving gesture after Buzzerio's ridiculously sincere gift, you have no heart. 



The production designers Erik Diaz (Scenic), Marcus Abbott (Lighting) and Erin Kacmaricik (costume) all contribute mightily to the power of the play, as well.  (But, let's face it, I haven't seen that much lingerie since I first learned about the Victoria's Secret catalogue in the 1980s.)

At times alluring, decadent, quotidian, and appalling, this superb production can't help but make us face our roles in this tragic dance.  It's not an easy night at the theatre, but you'll find few more fulfilling.
 

   

The Scarlett Rewrite: A review of "Moonlight and Magnolias"

 



There's an old joke that asks, "How do you know that an actress isn't very bright?  She's the one who is sleeping with the writer."

This lack of respect for the writer in old time Hollywood is at the very heart of the latest production at Playhouse on Park, Moonlight and Magnolias, written by Ron Hutchinson, and running through February 10th. 

The play offers an imaginative recreation of the complete revision of the Gone with the Wind script that producer David O. Selznick (played by Kevin Elden) commissioned from Ben Hecht (Allen Greenberg) three weeks into shooting.  Having to be completed in a week (lest he become the failure many think his father had been), Selznick all but imprisons Hecht and newly assigned director Victor Fleming (Bill Mootos), who has been hijacked from his duties on The Wizard of Oz, to translate to the screen the massive commercial success of Margaret Mitchell's novel.

The script doctor, who neither has read the book (thanks to his love of literature) nor carries any sympathetic feelings for the mores of the Old South (thanks to his Jewish heritage), is repeatedly shocked by what he's being asked to do by someone he thought to be a kindred spirit.  In the course of the week, all three learn something about the debt collaborators owe each other and the compromises inherent in the popular art of movie-making.

The play moves briskly as it traces Selznick and Fleming's pantomime of seemingly the entire movie  and swings back and forth from slapstick to insightful awareness of the intransigent hold of cultural prejudices.  As directed by Russell Garrett, the play is at its best in those moments when Greenberg's Hecht makes us all stop and re-think (even while laughing) the classic film we've always loved.  Several of the more physical bits (Selznick's "paralysis" and the homage to the Three Stooges' slapping) don't quite work, but the energy that the actors invest -- especially in the intimate space of POP -- cannot but be appreciated by the audience.  And, while I understand that the audience only meets Selznick after the pressure on him has been increasing exponentially since filming began and that there's already an air of desperation about him, I do wish that Elden's producer was able to begin a little less frantically and to build into the frenzy in which the three find themselves as the week progresses.

A note of praise has to be offered to Erik D. Diaz for his fabulous scenic design.  POP always takes full advantage of its space, but his take on Selznick's office is simply beautiful.  I'd put it right up there with the sets for POP's productions of Ovid's Metamorphoses and Around the World in 80 Days.

So, if you love classic Hollywood, Gone with the Wind, social commentary, slapstick, or even simply have warm feelings for writers (and their plight), you will enjoy Moonlight and Magnolias.  It may not be perfect, but at the end of an entertaining evening, you simply won't give a damn.

Swimming in the deep end of the pool: a review of "Metamorphoses" at Playhouse on Park

Most Americans first learn about classical Greek and Roman mythology in elementary and/or middle school, and that exposure consists of learning the Greek and Latin names of the major Olympians and an episode or two about only the most familiar of those (i.e., Aphrodite/Venus almost always gets more curricular love, as it were, than Hestia/Vesta!).  Later in their educational careers, most students (I'm hoping) still encounter myths again through the drama of an Oedipus the King, Prometheus Bound, or Medea.


But the missing element in all of this exposure is the experience of raw power these myths have to convey the human experience (in all of its glorious and awful aspects).  Too often they are but quaint stories of unenlightened civilizations.  The achievement of Ovid's Metamorphoses, the remarkable First-Century BCE Latin epic "covering" the history of the world from creation to the apotheosis of Caesar, is that it explores that spectrum of humanity --- with wonderfully witty and frightening story-telling.


The superb production of Mary Zimmerman's adaptation of Ovid's  Metamorphoses, running at Playhouse on Park through Sunday, 1 July, captures this same mythic power using some better-known (Orpheus and Eurydice, Apollo and Phaeton, and Midas) and lesser-known (Myrrha and Vertumnus) myths.  But so skillfully wrought are these ancient tales by the playwright, and so deftly directed by Sean Harris and acted by a multi-talented person ensemble**, that they seem as contemporary (or is it "timeless"?) as anything written yesterday.


The set, an elegant pool of water designed by Christopher Hoyt (together with lighting by Jen Philip, costumes by Erin Kacmarcik, and music by Richard Hollman), transports the audience to a place where anything can -- and does -- happen.


You owe it to yourself to take a nice long dip into our cultural past, our collective unconscious, and see who we are...still.

And tomorrow, when asked what you did last night, say, "I went to West Hartford...for the waters."


** In alphabetical order:

Amelia Randolph Campbell
David Goldman
Harrison Greene
Melissa Kaufman
Troy Peckham
Jillian Rorrer
Justin Sease
Quinn Warren
Eric Whitten
Ashley C. Williams


    

I tried, but couldn't, come up with a good "Norwegian Wood" pun for a title! (A review of Playhouse on Park's An Enemy of the People)

I have a fondness for the new production of Arthur Miller’s adaptation of Henrik Ibsen’s classic An Enemy of the People at Playhouse on Park because, in my senior year at the Covington Latin School in 1977,** the senior class mounted a production of the play.  I offer this tidbit because I never have seen another production – and was quite bummed that the 1978 Steve McQueen film never made it to wide release, or at least was never released in Cincinnati – and so I’ve been waiting a long time.  (And, no, I don’t have Netflix.)

I’m happy to report that I enjoyed this production, directed by Kyle Fabel…especially the very strong performances of the two leads.  In their portrayals of the brothers Stockmann (the doctor and the mayor at odds over the poisoned spring that jeopardizes the spa in which the city has invested its future), both Jeremiah Wiggins and Michael McKenzie earn excellent marks.  In neither case is his character merely a political position masquerading as a character; there’s a richness and depth to their brothers.  The personal, professional, and political, all blend into a rough, dangerous mix that, one is certain, cannot end well.

The supporting cast is less effectively dramatized by Miller…and results in more uneven performances.  The “radical” editor Hovstad, for instance, makes far too swift a turnaround in his meeting with the mayor, but any whiplash suffered by the actor, Aaron Barcelo, falls solely at the feet of the playwright.  The females, wife Catherine (Coleen Sciacca) and daughter Petra (Allison Layman) aren’t given a great deal to do either, but an audience cannot but like the spunky Petra…her father’s favorite, for sure!    

The production, as is always the case at POP, is a cleanly and effectively simple one in its set, lighting, and costumes.  This, however, is the first time that I felt the production was hurt by the small size of the cast.  While crowd scenes can be problematic to stage effectively (and difficult to cast since the extras are only needed for a single scene), the crowd scene at the Captain’s house needed, well, a crowd.  The larger speeches were still very effective, thanks to the two Stockmanns, but the rest of it – which hinges so much on the dynamic of the crowd in relation to the speakers – fell a bit flat.   

(One really nitpicky point: I’m pretty sure, given the debate over how poisoned the city’s medicinal springs are, the one thing we do not want to see the good doctor do before he faces the angry mob at Captain Horster’s house is take a big drink of water!)

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about An Enemy of the People is its bloody timely message.  From corporate greed and self-serving, political butt-covering, to the strength – and naivete – of the ethical, the play remains as true to our times as it was when Ibsen wrote it in 1882.  For that reason alone, it’s well worth seeing, but the performances of Wiggins and McKenzie make it a treat.     

Oh, btw, I was Morten, the older son, in the Latin School production.  Thanks for asking!

 **This was back in the time before high schools were required apparently to select only shows that students know so that, the reasoning goes, they’ll want to audition.  An exaggeration?  I think not.  How else can it be explained that, despite a century of great musicals from which to choose, both New Britain and Newington High Schools are doing Hairspray this year, while another three (yes, three!) area schools are producing the timeless Legally Blonde the Musical? (I simply don’t get it, especially given that most high school performers will perform anytime and anywhere in anything…indeed, open the refrigerator and, as soon as the light goes on, the young actors will start emoting all over the kitchen!) 

Timing is of the essence -- at Playhouse on Park

Life, like comedy, is all in the timing, and no one knows that like Phileas Fogg, the uber-reserved English gentlemen traveler who accepts a trans-global wager in Around the World in 80 Days (at Playhouse on Park through October 2) with the same nonchalance most of us decide which tie to wear.  Punctuality, he would say, is not about avoiding delays; it's the acceptance of -- and preparation for -- the delays that will inevitably happen.  (That lesson alone is something contemporary Americans can learn from the Victorian Mr. Fogg!)

The adaptation of the Jules Verne novel of the 1870s, adapted by Mark Brown, and brought to vivid life by an ensemble of five very talented actors under the direction of Russell Treyz (who directed the equally exquisite Trapezium last season at POP), squeezes every last ounce of invention from the novel with such theatrical efficiency that Fogg's creator must be looking down quite fondly on how his creations have made so successful a transition to the stage.  (If all you know of Around the World is the extravagant Michael Todd film with a cast of a 1000 cameos, then are you in for a pleasant surprise.  And, if all you know of the novel is, well, the novel, you will not be disappointed.)

As brought to life by Russell Garrett (Fogg), Aiden O'Shea (Passepartout), Chris Mixon (Fix, et al.), Jef Canter (LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS of characters), and Veronique Hurley (Aouda, et al.), the story lacks none of the thrills, laughs, and heart that Verne envisioned.  And the director shows us how immense an intimate theatre can be when the stage is peopled by talented performers.  (If Trapezium unfolded within a closed geometry, World accepts no boundaries.)  

The remarkable virtuosity of Canter pleases at every turn, as do the many incarnations of Mixon and Hurley.  No one works harder than O'Shea's back-flipping valet Passepartout, a performance of such physicality (not to mention tenderness) that I'm not sure I'll ever want to see the role played by anyone else.     Garrett's Fogg is the anchor by which all the craziness is held in check.  A character that, in lesser hands, could be but a stick in the mud, he wins the audience by degrees as he learns to love Aouda and Passepartout.

Bob Phillips' set, dominated by a large late 19th-Century world map, helps to keep the audience's head in the journey, all the while giving the actors appropriate spaces for all the stops along the way.  The costumes (Jennifer Raskopf), lights (Will Lowry) and technical direction (Steve Mountzoures) continue the excellence I've come to expect from POP.

There's no reason you can't find the time to go see Around the World in 80 Days at Playhouse on Park.  The trip, you will find, is its own, very entertaining, reward.  

"Chicago" at Playhouse on Park: And you think it's hot OUTSIDE?!

There may have been record-setting heat throughout Connecticut yesterday, but it was even hotter inside Playhouse on Park as a talented cast sang and schemed and slinked and snapped and stomped across the stage in another sold-out performance of Darlene Zoller's new production of the classic musical Chicago.

The great news is that another performance has been added Sunday night at 7:00 PM, so it's not too late to bask in the heat of the remarkable Kander and Ebb score, performed by a hopping orchestra under the direction of Colin Britt, and Zoller's Fosse-inspired choreography.  (Quick question: Has there been a better Broadway score since Chicago?  If so, it's not coming to me...especially since the only one I can think of, A Chorus Line, debuted the same year -- 1975 -- but a couple months earlier.)

The proximity of the actors and action to the audience makes this Chicago an even more visceral experience that other productions I have seen, and, as is usual with POP, the costuming (Erin Kacmarik), set (Ryan Bell), lighting (Tim Hache) and sound (Mike Firnhaber) are simple yet evocative. 

My favorite highlights (among many) of this production:

"Class" by Velma (Elise Murphy) and Mama (Keisha Gilles)

"Mr. Cellophane" by Amos (Rick Fountain in his best POP performance yet)

"Funny Honey" by Roxie (Bethany Fitzgerald)

and everytime the ensemble was on stage doing their thing.

My only quibbles:

Doug LeBelle's Billy Flynn was appropriately and persuasively slimy, but I wish his vocals were as up to the task as the rest of his performance.

Thao Nguyen's "Mary Sunshine" admittedly fooled me, but "A Little Bit of Good" is too funny a song to not have its lyrics better understood by the audience.

So, in short, take advantage of the additional show added this coming Sunday evening.  Your daycation to the Windy City will be a joyous one -- filled with razzle dazzle. (Just avoid women with weapons.)

The theatre's cool, but the performances are decidedly HOT.

It's a Really Good Production, Playhouse on Park!

I should start off this review of You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown at Playhouse on Park with an admission of my tricky relationship with the characters from Peanuts.  On the one hand, I think A Charlie Brown Christmas is the second best Christmas show ever (sorry, nothing can top Greer Garson's narration of The Little Drummer Boy), and I remember, when I was about twelve-years-old, buying The Gospel According to Peanuts from the Walden Books in Beechmont Mall.  (I'm bummed that I don't have that copy anymore.)  On the other hand, I despise (and find rather creepy) the Hartford Courant's decision to run old Peanuts strips daily in the comics section; Schulz is dead, after all, and so his comics should not continue to run as if he's not.  Calvin and Hobbes are alive in plenty of anthologies; Charlie et alia should only be there too.

I say all of this to make clear I'm neither a Charlie Brown lover nor hater.

And so it is with YAGMCB; while I'm not terribly fond of the show as written (see below), I liked this production A LOT: Lindsay Adkins' Lucy is remarkable; her self-revelatory moment of crabbiness is the laugh-out-loud funniest thing I've seen on stage in a long time!  Hillary Ekwall, as Sally, has never been better.  And, boy, can Joseph Fierberg's Snoopy dance!  In fact, the entire cast (including Steven Mooney as Charlie Brown, Kevin Barlowski as Linus, and Dante Jeanfelix as Schroeder) is never less than engaging and is more than worth the time and energy to go and watch them bring these characters to life.  (The show closes this Sunday; so hurry up.)

Sean Harris's direction is crisp, effecting, and effective in conjuring up the iconic characters, and the orchestra, under the direction of Emmett Drake, is equally good, but, in my opinion, just too loud, at times, for the space.

Any real criticisms I have is of the show itself.  I know it is a perennial favorite among theatre groups (although this is my first time seeing a production of it), but, like the comic strip upon which is is based, the little vignettes that essentially comprise the script, while very nicely done by this talented ensemble, are never really that funny or witty or moving.  (Although, given the recent hullabaloo over the marriage of Kate and Wills, I had to laugh when Lucy complained that her not being able to be queen even though she really wanted to be one was unfair and "undemocratic"!)  And the songs, once again very well sung by this cast, are not really that memorable....although my two theatrically-inclined daughters (15- and 12-years-old, respectively) heartily disagree. 

In short, I really like this cast and everything about the production, even if I'm unsure why the play itself continues to be so popular.  But please keep in mind that I'm often told I'm out-of-touch in my taste in musicals.

The talents of the cast and crew are undeniable, so don't find yourself saying on Sunday evening "Good Grief, I missed that show!"

The Tap Dance Forecast in CT: RIDICULOUSLY SUNNY (both in the short- and long-term)!

Okay, Tap Fans, before Sunday evening, you gotta get to Playhouse on Park in West Hartford where the stop/time dance theatre is performing their latest show "Swing Set," a fast-paced joyous celebration of swing dancing and the music that inspired it.  Conceived, directed, and choreographed by Darlene Zoller (also one of the artistic directors of Playhouse on Park), the show uses every inch of space in the Playhouse...and

there's something especially invigorating in feeling the tapping in your seats as the dancers go up the aisles (Think "Sensurround" but without the silly disaster movie!) The performers, as always with Zoller-choreographed shows, dance hard and often, with the necessary breaks filled with singing. 

My favorite numbers were "Tuxedo Junction", "Sing Sing Sing,"  and "Sing You Sinners," although there wasn't a dance number that I didn't like.  The entire company earns their just applause with their committed and enthusiastic energy and remarkable skill.  A particular shout out to Ms. Zoller, who indeed practices what she teaches, i.e., tapping is all about the sound, and, when she was out on the floor, I could hear her tapping as clear as a bell -- no matter how many others were on the floor!  Never showing off, just showing how it's done.  

If I had two nits to pick, they'd be 1) bag the microphones for the singers since the space seems intimate enough for voices unplugged and a quieter pause may even be more refreshing, and 2) don't change the chorus of "I Got Rhythm" by replacing "my girl/guy" with "rhythm."  Maybe it was just "old fogey" me (which wouldn't be surprising), but I got distracted for a couple verses in trying to figure out why the song wasn't sounding right.

The show only runs through the matinee on Sunday, 1 May, so "It Won't Mean a Thing" if you don't "Pick up the Phone."   When you do, then, and only then, are you "Beginning to See the Light!"

 ***

As far as the longer-range Tap forecast here in Connecticut, it's just as bright because you have until June 25th to catch My One and Only at the Goodspeed Opera House.  Billed a "Tap Dance Extravaganza," the show doesn't disappoint.  The clever script and the kind of inventive staging for which the Goodspeed is known, not to mention a s'wonderful Gershwin score, make this a great springtime show!

 ***

And since the tap stars were out on opening night of Swing Set, I'd be remiss not to mention Josh Hilberman's upcoming show,  “Lois’ Tap Lane” All-Star Tap and Jazz Salute, on Friday, May 13, at 8pm at the Regent Theatre in Arlington, MA.

A hit, no errors! (Playhouse on Park's "The Comedy of...")

Playhouse on Park has brought Stages on the Sound's production of The Comedy of Errors to West Hartford, and it works very very well.  The play, of course, concerns the confusion wrought by two sets of separated twins in the heart of Ephesus and is made even more manic here by all the parts being played by an ensemble of four (!?!) talented and high-energy actors, Brad DePlanche, Vanessa Morosco, Jesse Graham, and Brendan Norton.  The audience was especially endeared to Mr. DePlanche (as the two Dromios and, especially, as the Abbess Amelia), but all four displayed the kind of total commitment that a small theatre space demands and rewards -- especially with audience members seated adjacent to the stage to assist with those scenes when four bodies just were not enough.

Directed by Will Ditterline, the production is a slam-bang 100 minutes without intermission.  The action moves briskly and often hilariously...with every aspect of the performances (accents, costumes, set, and even the sound effects which are all generated by the actors themselves) aimed at making the audience laugh. 

And laugh we did.

Catch it before it closes on 17 April, and, in the meantime, if someone mistakes you for someone else, well...have fun with it (you just may have a long-lost twin)!

A is NOT "You're Adorable": a review of The Scarlet Letter at Playhouse on Park

     I should preface this review with the admission that I LOVE Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter. It is probably my favorite novel-length work of literature, only behind Homer’s Iliad. And my love for it dates back to high school, when it struck a far deeper chord with me than the other long work of fiction we were assigned the same year, The Catcher in the Rye. Even as a teenager, I could say, utterly without sarcasm, “Keep your Holden Caulfield; I’ll take Hester Prynne.” This fact perhaps partially explains how I ended up as a professor of early American literature at Central Connecticut State University, where I occasionally teach a course dedicated to Hawthorne and where I always gain an almost preternatural enjoyment in teaching the Puritans. (Indeed I once gave my tap teacher a collection of essays by that father/son Puritan Dynamic Duo Increase and Cotton Mather, entitled The Mathers on Dancing!) I mention all of this simply to make clear how much The Scarlet Letter means to me…indeed, so much so that, as soon as I learned last fall that Playhouse on Park would be mounting this production, I designed my syllabus for this semester’s American literature survey class around reading the book and bringing the class to this production. (But, enough of this “Custom House” essay; on with Hawthorne and the play!)

***

Spoiler alert: the following includes several important plot details. Stop here if you don’t know the storyline of Hawthorne’s tale and want to be surprised by what unfolds.

My review in short: Go see The Scarlet Letter!

***

     Nathaniel Hawthorne never called his longer works novels. They were “romances,” a term that for him implies the creation of a world that aimed not for realism but rather a rich penumbra of imagery and symbolism. Throughout his works, light and shadows play with what we can see (or think we see) and what we can know (or think we know). Hawthorne is at his best when any given description includes a) what most probably happened, b) what might possibly have happened, and c) what, given a certain worldview, could be interpreted as having happened. In short, few things in Hawthorne are ever black and white.
     Taking any Hawthorne’s text “from the page to the stage,” therefore, is not an easy task. The Scarlet Letter, as one of my college friends wrote recently on Facebook, is an “interior novel, which is why adaptations fail.” While he is correct about the book’s interiority, I don’t think that necessitates failure, and the Playhouse on Park production that opens tonight proves that.
     The adaptation, by Stuart Vaughn with Marie Kreutziger, is nothing if not faithful to the text of Hawthorne. The vast majority of the script indeed seems to be Hawthorne’s words. As a literature professor – especially one who brought his class to Wednesday night’s preview performance – I think it’s a very good thing to have his students hear the words they’ve been reading for class brought to life by talented actors in beautiful costumes on a strikingly simple set. And the use of the spotlight to distinguish between dialogue and soliloquy/internalized musings was straightforward yet effective.
     That said, as a theatre-goer, I’m not sure the script’s heavy and pervasive dependence upon Hawthorne’s language was the most effective way to present these figures in the flesh. A simpler, but still not contemporary or colloquial, speech may have made some scenes (e.g., the monologues) more effective. By differentiating the public and private spheres/faces even more distinctly, the hypocrisy and irony of the establishment’s attitudes toward Hester, Pearl, Arthur, and Roger may have been underscored even more. Hawthorne, after all, never intended to suggest that his language actually reflected the way 17th-century Puritans in America spoke; it was the artful tongue of this existential romance – a verbal iconography attempting to reflect his awe at the beauty and the flaws of his Puritan ancestors’ faith.
     But, even given the adaptors’ choice, one which demanded more of the actors, the play works…and works well, thanks to the actors and their director (the aforementioned Mr. Vaughn), who simply but deftly kept the (inter)action moving along. Hester, played by Jana Mestecky, and Arthur, played by Craig Rising, were outstanding. Ms. Mestecky balanced the difficult mixture of sadness, strength, loss, and will that is Hester, while Mr. Rising captured Dimmesdale’s suffering, doubt, and debilitating cowardice. Significantly, I believed the two of them as a couple when, out in the forest alone, they dreamed of a loving life together somewhere far away. Both avoided simplifying the complex natures of the individuals and the thorny relationship they share.
     Most impressive was Dimmesdale’s final confession; Mr. Rising conveyed the powerful faith that was the ultimate source of both his solace and torment. The audience could feel in his delivery the pent-up voice of faith, guilt, and love, after years of silence. (But more about this later.)
     Roger Chillingworth, played by William Shust, is a difficult character. On one level, he is the classic (even comic) cuckold, the old man with the young wife who cheats on him. On another level, he is a Faustian type of the scholar gone bad, and, on a third, a gothic embodiment of revenge. His character is thus inextricably linked to his complex relationships with both Hester and Arthur. Mr. Shust acquitted himself very well with so difficult a task, although I do wish his demeanor and physical appearance (aside from his costuming) had changed more dramatically from the beginning of the play to the beginning of Act II, mostly to account for the comments about his transformation made by the townspeople. An essential part of his story is the corruption (both spiritual and physical) of an essentially good person by evil intentions and actions. There simply needed to be more evidence of his corruption.
     Hollis Long, who portrays Pearl – the impish, elfish, scarlet-letter-incarnate daughter of Hester – also did well with had an enormously difficult task. Even in the book, there’s an otherworldly knowingness about the character that makes her probably the least recognizably human of the main characters. As such, for a twelve-year-old to make the younger character work is quite a feat. There’s enough of Pearl as an attention-loving, intellectually precocious, only-child in her performance to compensate for a text that almost suggests that she’s hardly real at all.
     The other cast members provide strong support (Ed Bernstein, Charles Merlis, and Brad Brinkley), especially the quartet of townswomen (Shirley DePhillips, Rayah Martin, Kendra Underwood, and Heidi Weinrich) who never think Hester’s quite gotten her just deserts. The costumes by Martin Thaler were gorgeous – all those buttons can’t but recall many of the wonderful early American portraits in the New Britain Museum of American Art! – and crisply set off the actors from the black set with the large Scarlet A that looms over the action.

***

Spoiler alert: the following includes several important differences between the book and the play. Stop here if you want to be surprised by the differences and how they may affect your understanding of the story.

My review in (longer) short: Still go see The Scarlet Letter!

***

     There are two key omissions in the script that I think do alter significantly the way an audience will feel about Hester. In Hawthorne’s book, the meaning of the A is always being re-interpreted. At story’s beginning, of course, it is a sign of her sin and the punishment put upon her by her judges. For Pearl, it is the very source of the identity of her mother. The “A” that miraculously appears in the sky the night Arthur ascends the scaffold and thinks he has publicly confessed is interpreted by everyone else who saw its blaze as “angel” (not “adultery”) because that very night former Governor Winthrop had died and presumably gone to heaven.
     Even the “A” on Hester’s bosom, in the book, at least, changes its meaning. Over the course of years, through her dedicated work with the poor and needy of the town, Hester’s “A” comes to mean not “adultery” but “able;” this quite consequential re-interpretation is never mentioned in this production (although it easily could’ve been in the scene in which Roger mentions talk by the magistrates of possibly allowing the “A” to be removed from Hester’s clothing or, better, in another brief townspeople scene).
     Such an omission isn’t too bad by itself. However, when it is coupled with ending the play at Dimmesdale’s death, the book’s focus on Hester’s life with/in/as the scarlet letter is severely undercut. By not having Hester and Pearl leave, and, most importantly, not having Hester return years later and willingly donning on the scarlet letter once again, the play has become more about Dimmesdale’s struggle with sin and redemption than about Hester’s. This act alone speaks volumes about Hawthorne’s understanding of Hester, her sin, and her life.
     Now, I understand creative choices and understand the impracticalities of having to quickly (st)age Hester in later years. The current ending, however, de-emphasizes Hester and, as a result, disappoints the reader of The Scarlet Letter in me.
     The theatre-goer in me is still very glad he attended.

And now, two final quibbles.

Scholarly quibble #1: If the director is going to offer in the program a quotation from an early American sermon apropos of Puritan beliefs, there are many better selections than Jonathan Edwards’ justly famous “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” if for no other reason than it was written almost a century after the action of the play. Given the rich tradition, not to mention the plentiful supply, of mid-17th-century Puritan sermons, a more chronologically accurate choice might have been made. (Feel free to call me!)

Scholarly quibble #2: Where was the Mistress Hibbins, the real-life sister of Governor Bellingham, who was sentenced to death as a witch? I think a few choice cameos by her in the play, as in Hawthorne’s text, would’ve been illuminating, especially in light of Pearl’s mention of her in the “black man” scene.

All quibbling aside, and for the last time, go see The Scarlet Letter.

Read Seneca: a review of "Art" at Playhouse on Park

Just saw a fine production of Art at Playhouse on Park, which runs through Sunday, January 23, and two quick personal anecdotes come to mind. 

The first just happened this weekend, while visiting my sister-in-law in Baltimore.  We were invited into her upstairs bathroom, currently under renovation, to determine the "whiteness" of the walls.  While in the white I saw the very faint pink by which she is bothered to the point of wanting to repaint, in the big picture the walls are white.  (How often, after all, will one be in the bathroom with a klieg light?!)

The other memory dates back to the '90s in graduate school, as I practiced presenting a paper (to faculty and fellow students at The Catholic University of America) which I was to deliver at a professional conference at Boston U a few weeks later.  It was an excerpt from my dissertation and dealt with American neo-Latin poet through the lens of the literary critical theory deconstruction.  Well, at least one faculty member got a hardy laugh at my (admittedly) jargony attempt and sent the clear (and important) message to trod lightly when dealing with such theories.

Both of these anecdotes touch directly on the theme and plot of the current production at POP.  Art was written by Yasmina Reza in 1995 and, translated from the French by Christopher Hampton, would win the 1998 Tony for Best Play.  While dealing with the question of what is (and isn't) art (e.g., Can an all-white painting really be considered legitimate?), the sharply written script really focuses on the nature, purpose, and limits of friendship. 

In a quick 75 minutes, the relationships between Marc (Andy Gershenzon), Yvan (Sean Harris), and Serg (Rich Hollman) are played out in scenes fueled by plenty of superiority, insecurity, indignation, humor and love to go around.  Harris and Hollman are reunited with director Tom Ridgely from last year's POP production of The Complete Wks of Wllm Shakespeare (Abridged), and again show the ability and chemistry to make the audience laugh/gasp/hurt in quick succession.  Mr. Gershenzon deftly captures Marc's role as the critic/catalyst.  While Marc, in lesser hands, easily could be simply unlikeable, here the audience -- even as we recognize his worst tendencies -- never stop understanding and sympathizing with him, no small feat.

The minimalist design of Michael Jarrett's lights and the set by Amanda Jesse worked very well to highlight the words and actors (although Ms. Jesse's costumes less so: I never quite bought Marc's sweater and "Beatle boots" and, given the constant mention of Yvan's having lost 10 pounds, perhaps his clothing should've been a bit looser).

In the end, the play is a classic because, though very much of its time (no one outside English doctoral programs is talking deconstruction now), its themes of friendship and the evolution of art never go out of style.  If you don't believe me, take Serg's advice and "Read Seneca."        

I think I've got "That Holiday Feeling" now!

     I've never understood the demise of the Bing Crosby/Perry Como/Andy Williams-type of Christmas special.  They were special (the only time all year you'd see them); they were cost-effective (a few wintry sets with fake snow and lots of candles), and they were straightforward (a hour of singing songs of the season).  They always happened in December (no matter how early Thanksgiving came!), they manged to evoke Christmas memories from kids from one to 92 (whether they had memories to evoke or not), and, most importantly of all, they signaled that Christmas was indeed coming.
      Well, just that signal has been sent by Playhouse on Park with their cabaret That Holiday Feeling that closed this afternoon.  Directed and choreographed by Darlene Zoller, with musical direction by Colin Britt, the show intentionally and successfully brought back a flood of memories of my own watching Bing and Perry and Andy with my parents in the 60s and 70s.  (Confession: I always wanted to be Nathaniel Crosby).
     Singing a wonderful collection of familiar and not-so familiar songs, the talented cast of nine performers manged to be sentimental and funny and lyrical and sweet without ever becoming saccharine (or succumbing to the times' seemingly inescapable need for irony).
          Highlights:
               Kevin Barlowski's funny "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas"
               Dante Jeanfelix's energized "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year"
               Jenna Levitt's "River" (a song new to me, and, while not a new favorite, sung wonderfully)  
               Rick Fountain's mousy performance of "Rockin' Around the Christmas 'Cheese'" (despite not being able to sing most of his other numbers due to laryngitis)
               the male quartet of Kevin, Dante, Rick and Colin on the very witty pseudo-union-protest song "Elf's Lament"
and my personal favorite of the afternoon
          Becky LaBombard's "Christmas Stays the Same" (another song new to me but one that captured the show's ethos so perfectly and delivered with such warm sincerity that I wanted it to be reprised at program's end instead of the title song).
     These favorites should in no way suggest that remaining cast members (Carolyn Bell, Carolyn Cumming, Hillary Ekwall, and Victoria Thornsbury) somehow didn't deliver on such winning tunes as "Santa Baby," "Man Wanted," "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, and "I'll be Home for Christmas, respectively, but, if every number's a highlight, then none is, of course.
     In sum: from start to finish, my younger daughter and I enjoyed ourselves tremendously and wished, as we were leaving the theater, that it had been snowing.  Bing, after all, would have wanted it that way.
     Here's one vote in favor of a Playhouse on Park cabaret becomes a holiday tradition.      

"Sisters, Sisters".... A review of "Brighton Beach Memoirs"

A theatre goer goes to Brighton Beach Memoirs for Eugene (the 15-year-old version of the playwright Neil Simon) and 1) his witty takes on the older generation, 2) his youthful love of sports, 3) his admiration of his brother, Stanley, and 4) his persistent annoyance at the preferential treatment of his "sick" cousin Laurie; and 5) his innocent lust after his cousin Nora.  One remembers BBM, however, for the relationship between the mother, Kate, and her sister, Blanche. 

As directed by Cie Peterson, and brought to life by a cast talented from top to bottom, the production that opened last night at Playhouse on Park meets those expectations fully. 

Matt Macca delivers a nicely straightforward and likable Eugene, endearing in his innocence and humor.  Jack (Robert Resnikoff) is the father everyone would want to have (or want to be): respected and loved and even heeded...a family man, who never quits, and is able to react to crises emotionally while still conscious of keeping his sights on the bigger picture.  (And, to my ear, sounding ever so much like Alan Arkin, and that's not a complaint.)  Stanley (Sam Duffy), Nora (Carolyn Cumming), and Laurie (Hollis Long) help fill out a family that we can enjoy, care about, and cheer for as the various troubles mount in this slice of 1937.

The focus, despite everything that would seem to want to draw our attention elsewhere, however, falls squarely on the sisters, played wonderfully by Jan Neuberger and Heidi Jean Weinrich.  It's hard not to feel the ties of having grown up together, having faced the early death of Blanche's husband together, and raising their children under the same small roof together.  It's hard not to feel the love, the respect, the envy, and the tension that charges their interactions, both trivial and momentous.  It suggests that the recent study connecting happiness and having a sister is undoubtedly true. 

Neuberger's Kate also has a very convincing rapport with Macca's Eugene.  She is able to convey her stern and, at times, irrational maternal insistence that Eugene "just write quietly" outside so as not to disturb his father even as she offers glimpses of the recognition of her younger son's wit and brains.

As a play, of course, Brighton Beach Memoirs is no Equus.  But any play that can offer the following line (probably misquoted here!) in a way that both provokes a laugh and the recognition of its essential, inescapable, and enduring truth is well worth any effort it takes to attend:

"Don't torment yourself, that's what mothers and fathers are supposed to do.

 

If wishes were horses...

It was the Spring of 1978, in my freshman year at Xavier University, in the required composition II/intro to lit course that I first encountered Equus by Peter Shaffer.

My having just read Oedipus the King for the same class, as well as being in the second semester of elementary (classical) Greek at a Jesuit university, amounted to pretty much of a perfect storm for being overwhelmed/attracted to/seduced by this contemporary tragedy with a classical feel and, more importantly, a classical impact.  A psychiatrist, as he tries to uncover the reason for a teen's unspeakable act of blinding six horses, uncovers just as much about himself and the high cost of normalcy.  Equus is what I remember to be the first piece of literature that, once I started it, I couldn't put it down.

I'm pretty sure that, somewhere along the way, I must have seen the Sidney Lumet film with Richard Burton and Colin Firth, but my first chance to see a staging of Equus came last night at Playhouse on Park in West Hartford.  I had to leave watching the historic no-hitter that the Philadelphia Phillies' Roy Halladay was in the process of throwing against my Cincinnati Reds in the playoffs, but, I have to admit, it was well worth it. 

(Quick aside: I cannot believe, as I discovered during my drive to the theatre, that the local ESPN Radio affiliate -- AM 1410 -- was NOT airing the Cincinnati/Philadelphia game, choosing instead to air its usual local sports talk show!  Oy.)

With an excellent cast, led by powerful performances by Alan Rust (Dr. Martin Dysart) and Hartt School student Mark Ford (Alan Strang), and under the strong direction of Robert H. Davis, the script that grabbed me so long ago has finally fulfilled its promise for me in this first-rate production. 

Everything clicks here: the caring judge (Nora Chester) who convinces Dysart to take on the patient, the tentative-turned-trusting relationship between doctor and patient,  the conflicted and in-conflict parents (Terry Layman and Denise Walker), the girl who never quite gets Alan -- in any way (played with a knowing innocence by another Hartt student Jill Mason), the original score/sound designed composed by yet another Hartt student Noah Kaufman, and, not insignificantly, the nuanced performances of the horses (especially Hartt student Charles South as Nugget).  There's simply not a false note struck here in the 2 1/2 hours. 

The play never pulls its punches, and neither does this production, keeping faithful to the playwright's vision with the Greek-inspired horse masks and cothurni hooves (and, yes, the nudity).  Appropriately, the Playhouse recommends this only for those 16 and older.

A beautifully written play, elegantly staged, with honest performances: it's why one goes to see live theatre. 

Equus runs through the 17th of October at Playhouse on Park.

Go.

So, I've been meaning to write something more thoughtful about Josh Hilberman's...

...tap show, Heeling Powers: Rhythms of the Left Brain, that played at Playhouse on Park on 25 Saturday 2010, so here goes.

The show featured Mr. Hilberman and his remarkable accompanist Paul Arslanian, with additional support from a trio of tappers "Schwab's Mob" (Melissa Bias, Kathryn Holtzclaw, and Jennifer Williams), and their leader, Lynn Schwab, and was a true tour de force.

In the talk back that followed the performance, Mr. Hilberman referred to the show as a retrospective or a greatest hits package, and indeed the show highlighted many different styles (from the loose tap approach of Brenda Bufalino to tapping while playing the ukelele to his tapping in women's high-heeled shoes ! -- not to mention the witty talk in between numbers, which allowed him to catch a breath and change his shoes). 

The nine tap numbers featured choreography by Paul Draper/Dean Diggins, the aforementioned Ms. Bufalino, James "Buster" Brown, and Leon Collins, as well as Hilberman himself.   In addition, two of the numbers, "On the Street Where You Live" and  "Charade" were true jazz improvisations with Hilberman and Arslanian riffing off one another in call-and-response duets.  Another improvistation, with Ms. Schwab this time, on "Cappella Josh" (the basic routine of which, we understand, is HUGE in Barcelona) was equally deft in its interplay between dancers.

The show also highlighted not just different tap techniques but the vast range of feeling that tap dancing can cover -- a fact that many who think of tap only in connection with Shirley Temple tend to overlook.  While it can be brassy and frenetic, tap, as Mr. Hilberman desmonstrated impressively, can be subdued and  -- in the case of his performances of "Laura" and "Charade" -- quite moving, as well.

The tapping tyro in me paid especial attention to Mr. Hilberman's ability to slam down his toes and heels with a conviction that I can only hope one day to approximate (as opposed to my too-often dropping them for a less compelling sound). 

"Bend those knees; keep those feet loose; commit!", I hear my tap teacher saying.

The talk back was instructive (even if he couldn't really explain his show's title), but many of us in the audience did learn that tap took a hit not just with the demise of Hollywood musicals but, more significantly, when the cabaret tax was instituted and took tap shows out of the clubs in NYC.  In general,   however, the talk back was a chance for both him and Mr. Arslanian to talk clearly and compellingly about an art form to which they both have committed their lives -- a commitment for which I cannot but thank them heartily.

The show at Playhouse on Park was one night only, but, if Mr. Hilberman comes to your neck of the woods, sieze the opportunity!