Studio Theatre - ARCHIVE
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April 1 - 20, 2008
The New Absurd |
t
A Potomac Stages Pick for a pair of
unique theatrical experiences |
New York based performance group, rainpan 43, presents three shows in repertory: all wear bowlers, Amnesia
Curiosa and machines
machines machines machines machines machines. We have
reviewed only two of them because machines, machines, machines, machines, machines, machines, machines is a short run of just
the weekend of April 19-20, but each of the two is such a delight while so
distinct from the other, that we've made the repertory a Potomac Stages
Pick. It clearly meets the criteria of material "so good we are confident that a majority of our
readers would thank us for recommending they take the time and trouble (not
to mention the expense)" to see it.
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Amnesia Curiosa
Reviewed April 9 by
David Siegel |
Running time 1:15 - no intermission
A cerebral, lovely evening of connected vignettes
t
A Potomac Stages Pick for a pair of
unique theatrical experiences |
A quiet little jewel waltzed into Studio Theatre the other evening; an old
fashioned kind of show that will suck you in until, 75 short minutes later,
you leave with a warm feeling of having been entertained. Not educated. Not
blown-away. Not wishing it had been longer. But quietly entertained in an
often touching manner by Trey Lyford and Geoff Sobelle. From the moment you
enter the theater space you know you will be in for something different. You
don’t head to a waiting seat, but go through a curious little old-fashioned
19th century type museum of miniature objects and photographs
dedicated to “fleeting” memory and the “preservation of memory.” Lyford and
Sobelle's quietly animated words are caught and savored throughout the
production as they move through a number of short vignettes depicting
distant events that run the gamut of very affecting physical comedy,
fleeting magical sightings, and pantomime (not done in white grease-paint).
This is a lovely evening of how a hand becomes a dying bird, later
resurrected to a living and fluttering bird; how a ball of string can become
a violin or disappear magically into a small pile of sand; or how stick-on
mustaches can be hysterically placed perfectly on an upper lip to change a
character’s affection in a nano-second; or how voice modulation can give
rise to cackling from an audience that is normally cool and sophisticated.
An evening with rainpan 43’s Amnesia Curiosa is like being a 10 year
old again and that is a good thing … a very good thing.
Storyline: Connected small vignettes about long
lost ephemeral memories and moments of family life in an old-style,
museum-type atmosphere.
Lyford and Sobelle
worked with playwright Andrew Dawson to develop this memory play that places
the audience in the midst of an old-style carnival type atmosphere. The
production was first staged at the Philadelphia Live Arts festival in 2006.
It begins with a barker using a megaphone to entice the audience to open
their minds to what they may see over the course of the evening. Vignettes
are connected by the sense that memory is continually lost and that adults
are unaware of the coming losses. A number of the vignettes include silent
body and transformative facial movements that leave the audience in awe.
Others are the more dumb-and-dumber comic type. Several are poignant, such
as a boy finding a dying bird, or a grandmother in the final phase of her of
life, or a husband and wife distanced by the Vietnam War. The script has a
sweet feel for the human condition rather than a shrieking, cracking-up,
making fun of human fragilities. Director Gabriel Quinn Bauriedel has a mime
background as well as experience and education in physical-centered theater
that it is noticeable throughout the production. His direction allows the
actors to take center stage together and separately. His work seems
invisible and that is a complement.
Lyford and Sobelle are performers with
strong voices, rubber faces and elastic bodies and limbs and a clear and
easy presence on stage. Both deliver their lines in a straight-up manner.
Lyford is the one with a rubber face and Sobelle the one with the elastic
body. Together they work seamlessly to lull the audience into a calm place
from which to take them to a never-land of family narratives. There
is no hyper kinetic energy with them, but rather a slow-motion type of
movement and language so that nothing can be missed. Each of the actors has
the opportunity to showcase his comic skills both silently and otherwise.
And each gets to play very poignant scenes. Lyford’s work as a father
separated from his wife by the Vietnam war and listening to voices on a
reel-to-reel tape recorder is of the highest quality. Sobelle’s work as a
grandmother (as depicted by just one arm) slowly losing her mind is also of
high quality. In Amnesia Curiosa Lyford and Sobelle take the audience
along with them until they have circled around and returned to the opening
scene once again, but with each having changed places from the top of the
show. With this first-rate work the audience leaves the performance
perfectly satiated.
The Studio’s Mead Theatre set is a
wonder from first walking through a museum-like set-up to the uses of placed
objects and curios which are showcased, for the most part in dark heavy
wooden cabinets with glass doors or under plastic boxes. The set will bring
either a smile or a quizzical look. Over the course of the performance, the
objects all find a place and connection to what is seen and experienced,
whether a plain old ball of string or a small bird’s nest or a miniature
reel-to-reel tape recorder. As the stage is set at floor level and in a
thrust attitude, the audience is almost on top of the performers and inside
the museum. For this reviewer, one who was stationed in the Far East from
1970-1972 during the dust-up called the Vietnam War, there is one especially
heart-tugging and recurring short sequence of connected vignettes of a
family trying to stay in touch through the distances caused by Vietnam
wartime service that brought back way too many personal memories.
Written by Andrew Dawson, Trey Lyford and Geoff Sobelle.
Directed by Andrew Dawson. Design: Lucian Stecconi (set) Geoff Sobelle
(projections) Christal Weatherly (costumes) Randy “Igleu” Glickman (lights)
James Sugg (sound) Lance Hayden Kump (photography) Michelle Blair (stage
manager). Cast: Trey Lyford and Geoff Sobelle. |
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all wear bowlers
Reviewed April 2 by
Brad Hathaway |
Running time 1:25 - no
intermission
A stylish serving of slapstick and shtick
t
A Potomac Stages Pick for a pair of
unique theatrical experiences |
True to the title, everyone here wears a bowler hat. Even the ushers are
wearing bowlers. After all, Laurel and Hardy wore bowlers. Charlie Chaplin's
"little tramp" wore a bowler. David Shiner wore a bowler when he clambered
over the seats of the audience at Fool Moon. So the aesthetic of René
Magritte's paintings of men in bowler hats seems a reasonable basis for an
hour or so of physical comedy that blends mime with pratfall and absurdism
with a modernistic feeling of angst. Two mostly silent comics literally fall
out of their cinematic world and into the theatrical world of the audience
in the Mead Theater. They don't quite know what to make of the idea that
there are actual people watching them, nor do they know why they have
appeared on this stage. But they try to make the best of the situation.
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Storyline:
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This exercise in physical comedy captures your attention from the git-go. Many designers have struggled to create a blend of live action and
film for live performances. The attraction of the concept has seduced
creators ever since vaudeville. Rarely has it been done quite as well as it
is at the start of this show. However, this team of comics continue the routine
just a bit too long. Later, with the iconic gag of the piece - the
repeated regurgitation of eggs - they again violate the old magician’s adage
that you never repeat a trick when the audience can watch to see how it is
done. It isn’t that a great magician doesn't want the audience to figure out
how a trick is done. It is that he does not want the audience’s attention
distracted from the flow of the show.Trey Lyford and Geoff Sobelle make a superb comic duo, with each reacting
cleanly and clearly to the bits of the other. They build on each others'
conceits as each creates a distinct character. Think of Laurel and Hardy.
Each was unique. Oliver Hardy remained Oliver Hardy and Stan Laurel was
always Stan Laurel, even though they were Laurel&Hardy. They may have blended
into a comedy team but neither lost his identity. So Lyford and Sobelle are
different from each other even as they become Lyford&Sobelle.
Sobelle is the heavy - not just in terms of girth, but in the way he
takes command and demands obedience - even from audience members who have
the pleasure, or misfortune (depending on their predilections) to be drafted
into the events of the evening. (One female audience member will become a
feature in a memorable effect taking the junction of cinema and theater to a
higher plane). Lyford is the innocent, naive one who is - a la Stan Laurel -
just a bit mischievous as well. Together, they make the audience laugh
constantly for 85 ever so full minutes.
Created by Trey Lyford and Geoff Sobelle. Directed by Aleksandra Wolska.
Film by Michael Glass. Film composer Michael Friedman. Design: Ed Haynes
(set) Tara Webb (costumes) Randy "Igleu" Glickman (lights) James Sugg
(sound) JJ Tizou (photography) Michelle Blair (stage manager). Cast: Trey Lyford and Geoff Sobelle. |
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January 2 - February 10, 2008
The Brothers Size
Reviewed by
Brad Hathaway |
Running time 1:35 - no
intermission
t
A Potomac Stages Pick for a polished performance of a highly polished, very
theatrical three-character play
Winner of the Ushers' Favorite Show Award
for January |
2008 starts out strong at Studio as they bring to town the production of a
new play by a new playwright that drew praise in New York in 2007. It is a
highly theatrical three-character show which is a rarity in that it deals in
dramatic fashion with a topic not often treated with such concentration. The
topic is brotherly love - not the "Philadelphia is the city of Brotherly
love" type of sweeping generalities, but the love that bonds two sons of the
same parents. These brothers care for each other in the iron clad way that
siblings do even if they don't happen to share similar interests or
ambitions. They may have taken different paths into adulthood but each is
unalterably connected to the other. As close and intimate as such a topic
can be, and as tightly structured as the play is, author Tarell Alvin
McCraney reaches for universal themes as well without loosing sight of the
familial connection between the brothers with the last name of Size.
Storyline: In a small town near the Bayou in Louisiana, hard working Ogun
Size tries to get his younger brother, Oshoosi Size to work with him at his
auto repair garage and resist the temptations that had him in the prison
from which he has just been released on probation. Oshoosi not only resents
the effort to run his life but is rife for the temptations that Elegba, whom
he knew in prison, continues to put in his path.
McCraney's play is theatrical in the way that Thornton Wilder's Our
Town is theatrical: it never lets you forget that you are watching a
play, while, at the same time, drawing you inexorably into the world it
creates. With Wilder it was a pair of ladders for a balcony scene and a
stage manager as narrator. With McCraney it is a circle of sand on the floor
defining the space, and characters voicing their own stage directions. ("Oshoosi
enters, breathing heavily" says Brian Tyree Henry at the edge of the stage
before entering and breathing heavily.) Such self-conscious theatrical
devices can be disastrous in the hands of less skilled authors, but Wilder
created a classic when he did it in his mature years. (He was 41 when the
play debuted.) McCraney hasn't matured to that level yet, but this effort
shows evidence of polishing that is surprising for a twenty-six year old at
the start of his career.
Director Tea Alagic stages McCraney's script with clarity and a sense of
direct honesty that takes full advantage of its theatrical features, filling
the hour and a half with strong visual images but without seeming to stage
anything that isn't directly related to the concept as dictated by the
author. Her sure touch makes the "work song" bucket dance sequence a virile
ballet while the image of the three member cast - each buff torso exposed
above simple blue, black or red work pants - kneeling in prayer before they
begin the play lasts just long enough to capture the imagination of the
audience.
The cast who worked for her when she first staged the play at the Public
Theatre of the New York Shakespeare Festival is still together here. Gilbert
Owuor is strong and sure as the older brother Ogun, while Brian Tyree Henry
is a bit softer and a bit looser but no less intense as the younger brother
Oshoosi. Elliot Villar is sinuous and slightly slinky as the tempter Elegba.
The names are one more way that McCraney reaches for universal messages, for
they are the names of deities from the culture of the Yoruba peoples of
western Africa. Dramaturg Danielle Mages Amato's notes in the program
attributes these traits to the names: Ogun is "the spirit of iron," Oshoosi
is "the wanderer" and Elegba "the trickster."
Written by Terell Alvin McCraney. Directed by Tea
Alagic. Design: Peter Ksander (set) Zane Philstrom (costumes) Burke Brown
(lights) Jonathan Melville Pratt (composer)
Michal Daniel
(photography) Barbara Reo (stage manager). Cast: Brian Tyree Henry, Gilbert
Owuor, Elliot Villar. Musician: Shaun Kelly. |
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November 7 - December 30, 2007
Shining City
Reviewed by
Brad Hathaway |
Running time 1:45 - no intermission
A therapist has more problems than his patient, a widower who is seeing his
wife's ghost
Click here to buy the script |
Long time Potomac Region veteran Ed Gero and relative newcomer from Canada
Donald Carrier provide an immersion into fine acting in an intriguing series
of scenes that are tied together more by the quality of the performances
than the thread of the story. Three of the five scenes involve Carrier and Gero while two additional scenes involve first Carrier with Lauisa Sexton
and then Carrier with Chris Genebach. Each is impressive as well. As a
result, the entire just under two hour experience is an opportunity to sit
back and watch actors sink their talented teeth into really meaty material.
The play is Irish contemporary playwright Conor McPherson's hit from Dublin,
London and Broadway which is getting its first local production here.
Director Joy Zinoman makes a heck of a show out of it, giving every aspect
of the production a sense of heft and quality.
Storyline: A former priest, who left the priesthood to
marry, is struggling to establish a practice as a therapist. He has a new
patient, a man who has begun to see the ghost of his
late wife. With each layer of the patient's story comes an accompanying
complication in the therapist's life. He feels he has to break up with the
girlfriend whose pregnancy may have been the cause of his leaving the
church. Once free of that encumbrance with the opposite sex, he has a
further complication with a prostitute of his own gender. Through it all,
however, patient and therapist develop a closeness that helps each deal with
his problems.
Conor McPherson is a great story teller. He doesn't just
dump the whole thing out and let you sort through it to your heart's content.
He takes you by the hand (or the scruff of the neck, as the case may be) and
directs your attention precisely where he wants it, forcing you to follow
his train of thought. When that train is on track, as it was in The Weir,
the result is absorbing, compelling and thoroughly satisfying. In this, his
latest work to be presented in the Potomac Region, the train is never
derailed, but there are times when he leads you off on a siding - a detour
that may be fascinating or it may be intriguing, but it isn't precisely
directed toward the final resolution.
Carrier's portrayal of the conflicted former priest is well modulated,
adding complexities and mannerisms as the script adds details. His
performance heats up as the play progresses. Gero, on the other hand, comes
on strong from his first moment. His character, after all, is the one
already driven to distraction and to seeking therapy. He lets it all out in
the first moments, stringing together McPherson's series of false starts,
incomplete sentences and more "you knows" per
page than any play we've reviewed in a long - you know - time. The strength
of Gero's performance and, for that matter, the strength of Gero's
character, draws a attention away from Carrier's therapist, leaving the
feeling - at least in the early going - that this is Gero's show. But then
comes an explosion of emotion from Sexton and an interlude of introspection
with Genebach and you realize you have been watching a play about a
therapist, not a play about a patient who has a problem with his late wife's
ghost.
The high ceiling of the Metheny Theater in Studio's four-theater complex
is put to good use with the soaring window-wall of the set providing a view
of a painted backdrop of the Dublin skyline at dusk which establishes an
atmosphere that is most effective for the ghost-story elements of the story.
The contemporary feel is established by the furnishings of the therapist's
office and re-enforced by Gil Thompson's sound design featuring guitar-led
soft pop music.
Written by Conor McPherson. Directed by Joy Zinoman.
Design: Russell Metheny (set) Helen Q. Huang (costumes) Michael Giannitti
(lights) Gil Thompson (sound) Carol Pratt (photography). Cast: Donald
Carrier, Chris Genebach, Edward Gero, Laoisa Sexton. |
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September 5 - November 4, 2007
My Children! My
Africa!
Reviewed by
Brad Hathaway |
Running time 2:20 - one intermission
t A Potomac
Stages Pick for a searing performance by a tremendous cast of three in a
uniquely powerful play
Winner of the Ushers' Favorite Show Award for September
and October
Click here to buy the script |
OK. Dig out your thesaurus and look up all the clichés for searing: strong,
powerful, forceful, intense, passionate, fervent, affecting. All this and
more is the experience of coming to know the three people Athol Fugard has
created in order to explore the conflict between two responses to the
stifling injustice of racial subjugation practiced in his homeland under the
Afrikaans word for apartness, "apartheid." It isn't a propaganda piece so
much as it is a balanced presentation of the hopes, dreams, fears and
frustrations of two people subject to the same injustice but clinging to two
very different opinions as to what to do about it. Add the yeast of a young
friendship across racial lines to provide wider perspective and a sounding
board for the interchange of passionately held ideas. Then trust that
material to three fabulous actors under a thoughtful and skilled director.
The result is searing in the finest meaning of the word.
Storyline: As resistance to apartheid in South Africa begins to escalate
in the 1980s, a teacher in a school for Bantu children sees in one of his students the promise of a better future through talent,
education and the power of words. However, that student, a well spoken young
man with the skill of a debater, sees only one way toward an acceptable
future for his people: resistance to the forced separation of the races that
has been the law in his country for thirty years. When a debate contest pits
that Bantu student against a white student from a neighboring high school,
an equally intelligent young woman, a friendship begins.
History plays
have a way of seeming to offer a glimpse of an important moment in the past
through a safe lens of time - we can look back and marvel at the challenges
of the moment and the responses of individuals while feeling a bit safe and
secure on our perch in the future. What, then of a play written not about an
historical event long past but written at the time of the event with all the
immediacy and uncertainty that great moments in history share? Athol Fugard,
a white Afrikaaner, stared history in the face in real time. He wrote
this explication of the conflict between two courses of action at the moment
that his society was facing that choice. It could have been a diatribe in
favor of one or the other. Instead, it is a painfully emotional capturing of
the human costs of each and it is delivered with a profound respect for both
views.
James Brown-Orleans combines the passion of a teacher for his student's
future with his deep commitment to the power of words, of precise and
careful communication, and his appreciation of his continent's heritage.
Viewing the two students through his eyes feels like a privilege. Veronica
del Cerro is charming, chipper and ultimately devastating as the white
student whose difficulty comprehending the scope and impact of the forces of
society and history which buffet her country helps the audience feel the
intensity of those forces. The centerpiece of the play, however, and also
the focal point of the cast is Yaegel T. Welch as the young man in whom his
teacher sees the promise of the future. As individuals, each is superb. As
an ensemble, they are spectacular.
Special note should be made of the impact of the dialect on the
experience of this play. It will come as a surprise to many after hearing
this play that none of the three members of the cast come from South Africa.
Look at their educational listings: University of Maryland, Virginia Tech
and Morehouse College/Brandeis University. Dialect coach BettyAnn Leeseberg-Lange
may be responsible for the fact that all three speak in a distinctive and
distinguishable manner, each just foreign enough to local ears to demand
of the audience careful listening but not impenetrable enough to constitute
a bar to understanding. It is a fine line which is straddled completely and
consistently here which serves the play beautifully.
Written by Athol Fugard. Directed by Serge Seiden. Design: Debra Booth
(set) Reggie Ray (costumes) Harold F. Burgess II (lights) Neil McFadden
(sound) Carol Pratt (photography) Jenna Henderson (stage manager). Cast:
James Brown-Orleans, Veronica del Cerro, Yaegel T. Welch.
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June 13 - July 29, 2007
Souvenir
Reviewed by
Brad Hathaway |
Running time 1:55 - one intermission
t
A Potomac Stages Pick for an unforgettable
evening with a vocalist of no talent but a healthy sense of self worth
Winner of the
Ushers'
Favorite Show Award for July
Click here to buy the script
Click here to buy the CD |
We have been fortunate to witness a number of priceless, unforgettable
individual performances in our town thus far in the new century. Some have
been delivered by Nancy Robinette (Frozen
here at Studio,
The Rivals at the Shakespeare Theatre Company). Another was J. Fred
Shiffman's stint in
Cabaret at Arena Stage. Now, add to the list one evening in the
hands of both that will remain vivid in your memory for a long, long
time. The memory will be a pleasant one because the evening is just so much
fun. Don't let anyone tell you this is a musical, however. There are songs
and there is the very pleasant piano playing of Shiffman, but there isn't
much music in the singing - there isn't supposed to be. For this is the
story of a recitalist with zero musical ability - nada, zip, zilch! Oh, but
the singer's unshakable faith in her own performances is so strong that she
is oblivious to any sign of criticism or rejection. When, at the end, she
actually shows a moment of doubt, it is a fleeting one and her recovery,
with the aid of her long time accompanist, is total. Total is the proper
word here for the evening itself is a total delight.
Storyline: From 1912 to 1944, Florence Foster Jenkins, who had no singing
ability whatever (no control of pitch, no sense of rhythm) gave vocal
recitals which, in the late thirties became social events in New York,
culminating at age 76 in a famous recital at Carnegie Hall which was sold
out weeks in advance.
Playwright Stephen Temperley found just the right approach to tell this
amazing story. He tells it through the memories of Jenkins' long-time
accompanist, a man with the unlikely name of Cosme McMoon. By beginning at
their first meeting and following through rehearsals and recitals, he allows
us to see McMoon's reactions to the incredible lack of talent he is
witnessing first hand. By having McMoon act as storyteller, he lets us
experience the development of affection and respect that forms the basis for
their long-time association. It isn't, of course, that McMoon begins to
think "Madame Flo" really can sing. It is that he comes to admire her
indomitable spirit and positive approach to life. We, like McMoon, come to
genuinely like this batty lady even as we are convulsed with laughter at her
expense. (Just to prove to you that we are not making this up, we've
included a link to order the CD of Florence Foster Jenkins' recordings in a
package aptly titled "The Glory (????) of the Human Voice.")
What might have turned into a guilty pleasure, a voyeuristic exercise in
watching someone make a total fool of herself, is converted into an
affectionate and ultimately touching experience through the talents of
Robinette. She makes no pretense to musical ability. (Indeed,
for the final
moment of the play when we are offered a glimpse into Jenkins' own view of
her performance, it is a recording of a real vocalist with a beautiful voice.) Robinette uses her considerable ability to
draw the affection of an audience and she makes Jenkins not so much an
object of ridicule as a person of admirable character. Shiffman's skill is
quite a match for hers and the chemistry between the two performers is a
pleasure to behold.
All the design elements are notable in this production. There is a lovely
setting that doubles as rehearsal room and recital hall, a succession of
delightfully ditsy costumes for Robinette/Jenkins and a lighting design that
smoothly signals the differences between the incredible public events, the
back-stage rehearsal time and the digressions into McMoon's own memory. What
is more, sound designer Gil Thompson adds the sounds of the audience
reactions to Jenkins' excesses so subtly that it feels as if you are, in
fact, in Carnegie Hall trying with all your might to contain yourself while
others are bursting out in laughter. Thompson approaches the line between
recreation of the event the play is about - the concert at Carnegie Hall - and the sweetening of
audience reactions to the performance of this play itself. I can't say whether
he crosses that line because I was laughing too hard to tell.
Written by Stephen Temperley. Directed by Serge Seiden. Vocal consultant:
Micaele Sparacino. Design: Luciana Stecconi (set) Reggie Ray (costumes) John
Burkland (lights) Gil Thompson (sound) Jess W. Speaker III (stage manager).
Cast: Nancy Robinette, J. Fred Shiffman.
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May 16 - July 22, 2007
Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern Are Dead
Reviewed by
Brad Hathaway |
Running time 2:20 - one intermission
t
A Potomac Stages Pick for
an enormously entertaining, intellectually challenging
comedy
Click here to buy the script |
Don't ever let anyone say that intellectual material need be dry or dull!
Theatergoers know that this is not only not true, it is the opposite of
truth. But sometimes you need an example as you argue with those who
think "culture" is something to be suffered through. Here's ammunition for
your fight. True, every line of Tom Stoppard's rumination
on existence is intellectually charged, carefully crafted and freighted with
import both surface and subliminal. But it is equally true that every one of
those lines is interesting and thought provoking and most of them are
also superbly funny. What this play isn't is dull. What it is, is
entertaining. The title pair are Raymond Bokhour, who brings just a hint of
the "Mr. Celophane" persona from his stint in the Broadway revival of
Chicago to the role of the equally semi-substantial Rosencrantz (or is
that Guildenstern?) and Liam Craig, with his slightly brittle, constantly
questioning facile mind as Guildenstern (or is that Rosencrantz?). They are
each and both fun to watch and intriguing to ponder. That is precisely what
you want from the pair playing those roles in Stoppard's extended
examination of existentialism.
Storyline: Two minor players in the drama of Hamlet spend most of their
time offstage wondering just what all the fuss is about. They while away the
time with word games and coin tossing but the dark prince and the other
characters in Shakespeare's play keep shaking up their world in ways that,
while completely consistent with what Shakespeare wrote, make little sense
to them with their restricted view of that reality.
Stoppard was a
brash twenty-something when his first effort to capture the thoughts of
these two minor characters in a major Shakespeare psycho-drama saw the light
of day in a workshop for promising new playwrights. He was not yet thirty
when the full length version was put up at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival,
which gave it the exposure that resulted in a production at Sir Laurence
Olivier's Old Vic, and his career was under way. That career has, to date, included such marvels as Indian Ink and The Invention of Love
which have been produced here at Studio, the trilogy Coast of Utopia
(which premiered as a package on Broadway this
year as is now one of the nominees for the Tony Award for Best Play, and
films such as Shakespeare in Love. (We won't get involved in the
controversy over rumors that he also wrote the screenplay for Star Wars:
Episode III.)
"It was merely competent" says "The Player" played at
a level so far above merely competent as to make the comment laughable, even
if it weren't so in context in Stoppard's script. This player is none other
than Floyd King, who hasn't stooped to the level of mere competence in many a
year. With his tattered smoking jacket, his pencil thin moustache and a
sense of unmatchable insouciance, he lifts the production with each
entrance. His "troupe" is a marvelously choreographed moving entity with
only one of the members actually establishing a personality of his own:
Miles Butler as the ever changeable prize "Alfredo." Major players from the
world of Shakespeare's play who pass through this off-stage are more
distinctly drawn by Dan Mannning (the usurping King Claudius) Maura McGinn
(his wife Gertrude) and most specifically Marshall Elliot as a dashing
Prince Hamlet himself.
Daniel Conway's slate-grey forced perspective
set makes Elsinore's ramparts resemble a condo - which fits with Alex
Jaeger's slightly British twentieth century costuming that highlights the
Laurel and Hardiness of the title pair with bowler hats and trench coats.
The performance is in the Mead where the front of the playing surface is the
floor of the audience, allowing the boundary between audience and
performance to be blurred at times and broken at others. When Bokhour's Guildenstern walks up the aisle and
pronounces the view from the audience to be particularly unimpressive, he's
wrong. He just didn't stay long enough to discover the joys of a truly
entertaining, intellectually satisfying production.
Written by Tom Stoppard. Directed by Kirk
Jackson. Design: Daniel Conway (set) Alex Jaeger (costumes) Michael Philippi
(lights) Neil McFadden (sound) Scott Suchman (photography) John Keith Hall
(stage manager). Cast: McKenzie Bowling, Raymond Bokhour, Miles Butler,
Marshall Elliot, Liam Craig, Theo Hadjimichael, Dan Istrate, Floyd
King, Tim Lueke, Dan Manning, Maura McGinn, Kevin Sockwell, Nick Stevens. |
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March 14 - April 29, 2007
The Pillowman
Reviewed by
Brad Hathaway |
Running time 2:35 - one intermission
A harrowing descent into simultaneous horror and humor
Click here to buy the script |
There are so many plot twists and surprises in Martin McDonagh's dark and
troubling horror story, spiced with even darker humor, that it is difficult to
discuss the play at any depth without giving away too much. There are
special thrills of discovery to be had that would be diminished by premature
revelation. Still, since readers presumably came to this page in part to
find out just what it is that Studio Theatre is offering for $39 to
$55 a seat, we need to assure those who would seek this combination of the
chills of horror stories, the shudder of cautionary tales of police
brutality in a dictatorship, and the nervous release of tension through
laughter, that this production delivers every shiver and not a few nervous
titters in just about the most polished presentation imaginable. Joy Zinoman
directs a superb cast - at least the four leads are superb. The script
doesn't really give much for the other four cast members to do but be on
display in the stories within the play. Ah, but the four leads - they are
marvelous.
Storyline: In a totalitarian police state, a young man who writes horror
stories is taken into custody and interrogated by policemen who seem to be
investigating cases of crimes that resemble his stories. Has he been acting
his own stories out? Has someone else been doing it? Complicating things for
the young man is his fear that they may have also arrested his brother, a
slightly retarded young man who may or may not have something to do with the
case(s).
The dramaturg's program notes tell us that Martin McDonagh wrote these
stories as just that - stories. They were not conceived as part of a play.
The play came later. Its structure is essentially that of a revue with
stories instead of sketches and songs. Like many great revues of the past,
there is an over-arching theme tying them together in a story of its own. In
most revue's however, it is the songs, sketches and scenes that are the
strength. Here, it is that central story that is the strength. The ten
stories which are either played out, read or alluded to during the evening
are of less consequence than the fate of the writer and his brother at the
hands of a good cop/bad cop team. Indeed, the few stories that are played
out behind the main set are unnecessary distractions. They have a Stephen King-ish fascination all their own, but they don't
add a great deal more to the central story than those stories which are read
or described within the confines of the police station. It's the story in the
station that really matters.
Tom Story plays the writer with a fine feel for both the dread his
character experiences under interrogation and the humor he tries to use to
manage his dire situation. Aaron Muñoz is touching and often refreshing as
the brother who relies on him for, well, everything. The two of them bond
deliciously. They are but one of two really impressive teams. Denis Arndt
and Hugh Nees are every bit as effective as the cops. Arndt's "good" cop
uses a peculiarly hard-boiled brand of humor as an interrogation technique.
Nees' "bad" cop is much deeper a character than it seems at first, and his
big speech in the second act is a joy to watch for those who have enjoyed
his growth as an actor in recent years. As if this were some kind of
demented challenge dance, Arndt then has an equally impressive big speech in
act two. Just who tops whom is debatable.
Debra Booth's main set is the interior of the police station and it is an
imposing, troubling presence with its resonance reinforced by Gil Thompson's
sound effect of resounding echoes that accompanies each slamming of the
single steel door that may be the opening to freedom or perhaps the pathway
to execution. The music by Michael Gallant (not to be confused with the
fictional character on ER) is as distinctive as was the music he
composed for Studio's Far
Away. Indeed, it seems to transition from an almost Disney movie
score mode into something more like a Maurice Jarre suspense soundtrack.
Written by Martin McDonagh. Directed by Joy Zinoman. Design: Debra Booth
(set) Helen Huang (costumes) Michael Giannitti (lights) Gil Thompson (sound)
Michael Gallant (music) Danielle Mages Amato (dramaturg) Carol Pratt
(photography) Serge Seiden (stage manager). Cast: Denis Arndt, Zachary Fadler, Meghan Fay, Julie Garner, Aaron Muñoz, Hugh Nees, Tom Story, Aaron
Tone. |
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February 7 - March 11, 2007
The Passion of the
Crawford
Reviewed by
William Bryan |
Running time 1:50 - no intermission
A glib examination of honesty with three bright performances |
Very good and very
bizarre both equally describe this one hour of lip syncing madness from the
mind of John Epperson and the life of Joan Crawford. If you loved Joan
Crawford then this is the show for you, for Lypsinka (aka John Epperson)
fully embodies the role and persona of the bigger than life star. Performed
in traditional Lypsinka style, the show is a series of recordings of Joan -
giving interviews, reading a poem, or other moments - clipped and spliced
together. Lypsinka impersonates the famous actress far beyond what is
normally thought of as lip syncing, fully becoming her (his?) character.
Joan was a proud woman, and a strange one, as shown by Faye Dunaway so
powerfully in the movie classic Mommie Dearest, and this comes
through with a climatic ending to a surreal trip through the life of this
famous star. Staged in the Milton Theater with its arc of seats, the
staging, lighting, effects and applause take the audience back in time to
relive moments of a bygone era.
Storyline: Lypsinka
(also known as John Epperson) returns in this one hour look at the powerful
life of Joan Crawford.
True to form, Lypsinka,
now in her 25th year of performances, has fully developed the
presence of the fabled Crawford. To appreciate this achievement, it must be
remembered that Joan started as a dancer, became famous in silent pictures,
survived into talkies and went on to surpass Betty Davis as the most famous
starlet of her time. Taking on this role, as with the role of any powerful
figure, can set up expectations that run higher than ability can support.
Fortunately this is not the case with The Passion of the Crawford. Add in the complexity that Lypsinka herself is a creation, played by a man,
and the achievement of presence that Epperson exudes is truly phenomenal.
Still, this is a trying
show. Joan Crawford died in 1977. Many of the younger crowd in the audience
seemed to be out of touch with the performance they were seeing. One remark
after it was over summed up the situation well, “If I knew anything about
Joan Crawford I probably would have liked that much more.” Epperson as
Lypsinka as Joan does well, but the premise of the show - little snippets of
her life that could be culled from various recordings - is not meant for the
uninformed or non-Joan Crawford fan. Choices of cuts from interview to
flashback throughout the show also throw off any learning that might occur/
They drag the viewer along for the ride, often leaving the departure and the
destination as unknown places. It would be interesting to see a full
biographical play set around Joan’s life with Lypsinka in the role, if only
to fully appreciate the depth of understanding John Epperson has for his
mark.
Steve Cuiffo plays the
interviewer and announcer throughout the show. Just like Epperson, he
"merely" lip syncs to the prerecorded voice. But he is just as engaging and
convincing as is she/he. The interviewer’s obvious infatuation with Crawford
and the effect of her presence on him come across throughout the show. Thank
goodness for the laughs this provides to what could otherwise have felt like
an hour in the twilight zone for those who no longer have the interest or
patience to sit through an interview that is three decades old. Finally, the
costume work of Ramona Pence is impeccable, perfectly capturing the glamour
that was the Queen of Hollywood.
Created by John
Epperson. Directed by Kevin Maloney. Design: Luciana Steccona (set),
Catherine Eliot (lights), Gil Thompson (sound) Ramona Pence (costumes),
Cassandra Domser (stage manager). Cast: John Epperson, Steve Cuiffo.
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January 3 - February 11, 2007
This Is How It
Goes |
Running time 1:50 - no
intermission
A glib examination of honesty with three bright performances
Click here to buy the script |
After the success of The Shape of Things
in 2002 and Fat Pig in 2006, Studio returns to the
work of Neil LaBute for a play about an interracial love triangle. LaBute is
well known for facile dialogue and intriguing plotting, and for boldly breaking
taboos. Here he proves that two out of three ain't too bad. The piece
abounds with facility with three characters each given a unique voice, and
exchanges that exude wit, humor and/or emotion as the situation demands. It
also is plotted in such an interesting way that it holds your attention
throughout its nearly two hour run as you constantly try to figure out just
where this thing might be going. Its in that "boldly go where no man has
gone before" tradition of LaBute's taboo tackling that the piece falters. At
first he seems to be aiming his sights on the rules against telling untruths
- but that rule doesn't have any strength to it at all, at least not since
George Washington's "I cannot tell a lie." So how can breaking the rule be
shocking or even out of the ordinary? Later on in the play, he throws in
hate speech. Is this the taboo he's trying to break? If so, it comes across
feeling as if the issue is an afterthought thrown in because
the morning papers are reporting that Mel Gibson has gone off the deep end about Jews or
YouTube has video of Michael Richards' diatribe about African-Americans. If
that is it, it is too little, too late.
Storyline: An "unreliable narrator" relates the tale of his return to the
town where he attended high school, and his developing re-involvement in the
lives of two of his classmates who advanced from bi-racial high school
sweethearts to married parents. In telling the tale, he takes various
excursions and digressions, introducing complications, retracting
inconvenient details and even revising events after they have been played
out before our eyes.
LaBute's trademark glib sense
of humor serves him and his audience well, especially in the early portions
of the play. As Eric Feldman takes the stage to narrate/participate in his
version of events, he addresses the audience directly, telling us right up
front that he may stretch or alter the truth from time to time and that he
only has access to one side of a multi-sided situation. Feldman is an
extremely attractive presence, which is a good thing since he soon has to
share the stage with a very attractive couple.
Anne Bowles, who was so gorgeous as the girl friend
with the slender sexy body who couldn't believe she was being dumped in
favor of a super-sized rival in LaBute's Fat Pig, again brightens the
stage while struggling with some of LaBute's lines that impose worn out
"Valley Girl" mannerisms on this mid-western young wife and mother. (He has
fun with over-use of "you know" just one or two times too often). Benton
Greene makes a notable Potomac Region debut as her husband, the former high
school jock now a successful businessman, who is described as "rich and black
and different." All three hold the stage in the intimate Mead Theater with
assurance. There is a fourth member of the cast who goes uncredited (the
same thing happened last year at this same theater when Shawn Helm went uncredited as the guard in
Frozen just because it was a part with no lines. If Synetic Theater
didn't credit parts with no words, sometimes there'd be no credits at all!) This time it is a woman
who makes multiple passes across the stage as a waitress ignoring the party
who want to order their meal. She may not contribute a word but she could
well kill the scene if she didn't do her part with assurance. She deserves
credit.
Director Paul Mullins, who handled Fat Pig with
such a sure hand, returns to Studio and to the work of LaBute, and again
makes the most of the material. It isn't his fault that the text itself
hasn't got the impact of the earlier effort. He gives it every chance to
succeed and his casting choices and selection of a design team certainly
gave him all the tools he needed. The elegantly bare set is brought to life
with some marvelous projections. The lighting manages to create different
feelings for different environments (warmth for a backyard barbecue,
utilitarian brightness for an indoor mall) while not bleeding over to wash
out the projections. The costumes are spot on for middle-America,
upper-middle-class chic, and there is a subtle but somewhat
overused effect in the sound design when Feldman switches from being the
narrator to being a character in scenes with the rest of the cast - the
sound of the noises in the mall or the birds chirping in the trees either
begins or ends with a swoosh as if it were on a tape starting or stopping, as
the case may be.
Written by Neil LaBute. Directed by Paul Mullins. Design:
Debra Booth (set) Kate Turner-Walker (costumes) Michael Chybowski (lights)
Neil McFadden (sound) Scott Suchman (photography) Rebecca Berlin (stage
manager). Cast: Anne Bowles, Eric Feldman, Benton Greene.
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November 15 - December 31, 2006
The Long Christmas Ride Home
Reviewed by
Brad Hathaway |
Running time 1:35 - no
intermission
t A Potomac
Stages Pick for a unique
theatrical experience
v
Sexual themes treated frankly
Click here to buy the script |
Paula Vogel uses live actors, puppetry, projections and Japanese shamisen
music in
her story of a family whose ride to grandmother's house
for Christmas isn't a particular joy, but whose ride home is an unmitigated
disaster. Director Serge Seiden assembles all those elements with a deft
touch that creates a spell from the first moment that musician Sumie Kaneko
enters in unhurried formality, makes eye contact with the audience, bows and
takes her place on a mat at the side of the stage. As each player enters, he
or she too acknowledges that this is a play, a theatrical event. They take a
deep breath, let it out and begin. Ah, but that breath is more than just a
gesture. It is a part of the story, a plot point and the key to the final
image of the play. That symmetry, connecting first to last and tying
elements together, is the essence of the show which uses classical Japanese
theatrical traditions of bunruku and noh to tell a distinctly modern
American story, a story drawn from both the family history of the author and
the plays of Thornton Wilder. (Even the title is a bit of homage to Wilder
whose 1931 short play The Long Christmas Party viewed the impact of
holiday events on family ties.)
Storyline: A flare-up among the adults in the front seat of the family
car marks the lives of the children in the backseat on one cold ride to visit to
their grandparents' house at Christmas. The event and its ramifications are
viewed by the adults those children grew up to be, as one - the son who died
of AIDS - returns to earth to re-visit his earthly past and his family - and
to take one more breath of life.
Author
Paula Vogel may well draw from many sources for this short but intense
piece, but it bears a striking similarity to more than just Thornton Wilder
and Noh and Bunruku. It bears a similarity to her own best known piece, her
Pulitzer Prize winning How I Learned to Drive. That play too begins
with such a wholesome, positive feel, uses humor and the accumulation of
tiny details to bring its characters to life, and only then reveals its
troubling aspects after the audience has come to care about each of the
people in the story. Here the theatricality of the presentation style adds
to the richness. That theatricality could well overwhelm the slender thread
of the story, however, were it not for Seiden's success at keeping the
elements in balance.
Kevin Bergen is captivating as the son whose story this really is. Both
Kate Debelack and Tonya Beckman Ross imbue the sisters with
individuality. The puppets of Aaron Cromie are manipulated by a
team of black clad puppeteers along with Bergen, Debelack and Ross,
each doing the principal handling of the puppet of their character in
childhood. The
grownups, mother Laura Giannarelli and father Paul L. Nolan, are
exceptionally strong even though neither has a puppet-self which would
amplify their traits. Bobby Smith, however, has the problem that he must
double up on roles (he plays a preacher in the "Rockville Universalist Unitarian
Church" who shares his slides of Japanese woodblock art with his
congregation, as well as a dancer in the gay world of San Francisco). He
tries a bit too hard to draw distinctions between the characters.
Daniel Conway has provided a great set for the space in the new Methany
Theatre. Or is it that the new Methany Theater is a great space for this
set? There's a fine blend between the two with the spare, geometric ambiance
of the theater and the even sparer assembly of geometric shapes that Conway
places on the stage - an oval platform before a grid with paper panels under
a roofline reminiscent of a Japanese woodcut of a winter shelter. Behind it
all, a ramp slopes down from either side, completing the geometric balance
of simple, interlocking spaces.
Written by Paula Vogel. Directed by Serge Seiden. Original music composed
and performed by Sumie Kaneko. Choreographed by Dana Tai Soon Burgess.
Design: Daniel Conway (set) Devon Painter (costumes) Aaron Cromie (puppets)
Michael Giannitti (lights) Erik Trester (sound)
Carol Pratt
(photography) David Elias (stage manager). Cast: Kevin Bergen, Kate Debelack,
Laura Giannarelli, Paul L. Nolan, Tonya Beckman Ross, Bobby Smith; and
puppeteers Emmy Bean, Courtney Bell, Lucas Maloney, Betsy Rosen, Ben Russo
and Michael C. Wilson.
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September 6 - October 29, 2006
Red Light Winter |
Running time 2:40 - one intermission
A strong performance in the lead role of a disturbing play
v
Includes nudity and violent and sexual activity
Click here to buy the script |
Adam Rapp's tragic drama was nominated for both the Obie
award for Off-Broadway play and the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, so it should
not be surprising that there are both effective scenes and individual lines
of dialogue so highly polished you almost want a pause button so you can
stop and contemplate a thought here or a well turned phrase there. Without
such a button, however, the performance moves right along and one has to try
to keep up. Its a struggle, for the plot is convoluted and often contrived
and the progress of the relationship between the characters is often
inconsistent or unbelievable. Joy Zinoman gives the play every opportunity
to succeed with a spirited, in-your-face production that is alternately
fascinating and repulsive - just as it is supposed to be. She gives an
impressive new actor, Jason Fleitz, his first exposure here after having
been the understudy for the lead in the play's world premiere and a standby
in the play's New York production.
Storyline: An introverted would-be playwright and an
extroverted publisher who were best buddies in college share a hostel room
in Amsterdam during a European vacation. The publisher buys the services of
a prostitute for his introverted friend, perhaps in part to make amends for
having taken his girlfriend from him years ago. The introvert falls for the
prostitute but she falls for his friend. A year later the prostitute shows
up in the playwright's apartment in New York looking for his friend. The
strange triangle gets even stranger when a strain of HIV is added to the mix.
Fleitz gives an impressive
performance as the introvert. It is a subtle mixture of mannerisms and
movements, but the thing that makes the performance as compelling as it is is
his ability to establish eye contact with his fellow actors and to focus his
attention on their words in between his own lines. Regina Aquino has some
fine moments as the trans-Atlantic prostitute. Her part is so broad in
scope but so shallow in development that it sort of
defeats her efforts to bring it to life. William Peden is suitably
detestable as the extrovert, who, by his own admission, is "not a nice
person." Just why the introvert would be traveling with such a self-centered
supposed "friend" who not only has done in wrong in the past but continues
to belittle him in the present is never quite clear. You won't like him, but
your not supposed to.
Kater Turner-Walker's costumes, her
red dress for Aquino, stretched-out undershirt and battered jeans for Fleitz
and more costly but still "with it" youth attire for Peden are spot-on for
each of the three characters. Debra Booth's attractive set violates a key
rule of a thrust stage such as Studio has in the Mead. With the audience on
three sides, the sightlines are obscured for those on the extreme house
left. They can't see the window through which Aquino takes her final,
plot-important action. Readers may want to spend the extra five to nine
dollars that seats in the center section and orchestra cost for this show.
A note about notes: Studio Theater
has a tradition of providing helpful information in the programs which are
passed out to the audience members as they arrive. These programs have not
been limited to credits and bio blurbs on cast and creative team members.
Often, when the play calls for it, the programs provide information on the
period in which the play is set, the references which might otherwise be
obscure and even some appreciative background on the playwright. It would be
good if they did more of this. In this program, for the first play of the
new season, the appreciative backgrounder on the playwright, while a bit
like a press release, is fairly informative as to Mr. Rapp's
career to date and the dramaturg's notes seem more an evaluation of the play
than an aide to getting the most out of the experience. There's no information on Amsterdam and its drug
policies and red light district nor of Manhattan's East Village for those
less familiar with the milieu of the play. Perhaps the rest
of the programs for the season will revert to the more informative, helpful
format of years past.
Written by Adam Rapp. Directed by
Joy Zinoman. Design: Debra Booth (set) Kate Turner-Walker (costumes) Jeavon
Greenwood (properties) Michael Giannitti (lights) Neil McFadden (sound) Keri Schultz (stage manager). Cast: Regina Aquino, Jason Fleitz, William
Peden.
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May 17 - July 23, 2006
Caroline, or
Change |
Reviewed May 21
Running time 2:30 - one intermission
Potomac Region premiere of the 2004 musical
Click here to buy the CD |
Symbolism can add depth and texture to a rich story, or it can overwhelm a
simple tale. Here, the story and the morals it offers are dealt a body blow
by symbols which, depending on how one interprets the tale, highlight its
shallowness or trivialize its depth. So simple on its surface, but so
obviously intended to be the bearer of important comments on human
relations, the plot is too flimsy to support singing washing machines or
crooning busses. Singing inanimate objects are no stranger to the musical
stage - vocalizing teapots work for Beauty and the Beast where charm
and razzmatazz are required to keep the attention of the little ones. Here,
however, the intended audience is mature and intellectually discriminating,
so the writing of songs for the washing machine, the dryer and the bus
belittle a gentle piece of nostalgia. Studio's new production is nearly as
solid and impressive as was the one that ran for a four month run on
Broadway, but its cast isn't quite as strong as was the original.
Storyline: The black housekeeper in a white
Louisiana home in 1963 has troubles of her own with one son away in Vietnam,
a rebellious teenage daughter and two younger boys who are not above a bit
of mischief. She spends most of her day not at home with her family, but in
the basement of her employer washing their clothes, listening to the popular
rhythm and blues on the radio and enjoying the one cigarette she allows
herself each day. Things aren't without problems for the family of the house
either. The father has recently been widowed and has remarried but he's
still hurt and withdrawn. The in-laws are squabbling, his son isn't taking
to his new stepmother and she, fresh from northern climes, wants the maid to
call her by her first name. Her approach to discipline for the son is to
tell Caroline she can keep whatever change she finds in the boy's pockets in
the wash.
In its debut production in New York the
reaction was split. There were raves from some reviewers and many Tony
nominations driven by initial buzz (it opened just prior to the Tony Award
eligibility cut off). There were also some dissenters (including Potomac
Stages - click
here to read our review of the Broadway production, but be aware that
the opinion found there is practically identical to the one found here).
Ultimately, it was a financial loss after a short run of just 136
performances. Expectations had been sky high for the first musical by Tony
Kushner with music by Jeanine Tesori, fresh from her success with
Thoroughly Modern Millie. And, devotees of
Angels in America knew just how skillfully Kushner can weave multiple
storylines together. There certainly are enough storylines here to keep him
hopping, with two families full of humanly imperfect people. So who needed
the washing machine to break into song? But ultimately it wasn't just
the potential silliness of some of the flights of fancy wrapped as symbols,
it was the shallowness of some of the characterizations. Despite the
fact that they represent people caught up in a complex time of social
upheaval, as written the people in this house are as one dimensional as the
singing machines.
On Broadway some of that shallowness was disguised by
a searing performance in the role of Caroline that is not really matched
here at Studio. Julia Nixon starts off strong with a great sense of
soul-drained weariness as the maid with a world of problems of her own. Her
sense of fatigue and lost hope is palpable and carries the performance all
the way to the final aria when, inexplicably, she seems to sing the music
marvelously but miss the drama that the show has been building to for over
two hours. Rockville sixth grader Max Talisman makes his professional debut
as the young man who can never seem to remember to remove the change from
his pockets. He sings clearly and is un-self-conscious on stage. There are
fine performances from Trisha Jeffrey as Caroline's teenage daughter, Bobby
Smith as the clarinet playing father of the house and most particularly from
Elmore James whose deep blues bass fills the Methany Theatre with glorious
sound without the aid of artificial amplification.
That decision to go without amplification is to be
applauded and it is a joy to hear much of the nearly-sung-through score
delivered acoustically. (As "The Moon" Allison Blackwell is mic'd but it is
clearly for the purpose of adding reverberation to give the moon an ethereal
sound, not to amplify her hall-filling voice.) An off stage orchestra
handles the effective orchestrations, reduced significantly from the
original to simply six including two keyboards. The cello of Aaron Rider is
called upon to provide the richness that four string players brought to
Broadway. The placement of the players off stage, and whatever baffles have
been installed in their space, works very well to strike the balance needed
between instruments and vocalists. What is more, without the sound coming
from speakers you can actually follow a
voice from one side of the stage to the other - something that seems to
always be missing in musicals on the "Great White Way" these days.
Book and lyrics by Tony Kushner. Music by Jeanine
Tesori. Directed by Greg Ganakas. Music direction by Howard Breitbart.
Design: Debra Booth (set) Alex
Jaeger (costumes) Kirk Bookman (lights) Neil McFadden (sound) Scott Suchman
(photography) Karen Storms (stage manager). Cast: Allison Blackwell, Zachary
Carson Blumenstein, Kearstin Piper Brown, Ilona Dulaski, Elmore James,
Trisha Jeffrey, Kameron Lamar, Otts Laupus, Julie Nixon, Omoro Omoighe,
Monique Paulwell, Kelly J. Rucker, Jim Scopeletis, Bobby Smith, Tia Speros,
Max Talisman. |
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March 8 - April 15, 2006
The Prime of Miss
Jean Brodie |
Reviewed March 12
Running time 2:25 - one intermission
A strong enactment of the famous novel
v
Includes brief nudity
Click here to buy the novel
Click here to buy the script |
Sarah Marshall nails the most important single scene in this strong drama,
earning her the right to stand beside Joe Caldwell who won a Tony in the
role in 1968 and Maggie Smith who won an Oscar for the 1970 movie. The trite
rejoinder "You can't fire me - I quit" has tempted many who have been called
on the carpet by their employer. Not Miss Brodie in the searing portrait
Marshall creates. No, her response to the criticism of the headmistress of
the school where she teaches impressionable young women is: "You can't fire
me - and if you try, I'll sue the pants off of you!" There are moments in
the rest of the show when Marshall's portrayal of the Scottish schoolmarm
isn't rock solid. She may even be a bit too impish for the part. But when
she gets to this, a crucial moment, she hits it with a strength that is to
be savored. Unfortunately, from where this reviewer was seated, her other
big scene was not visible because director Joy Zinoman inexplicably blocked
the moment with a student standing in front of Marshall's Brodie, obscuring
the view for a major segment of the audience.
Storyline: In the early 1930s a Scottish school
teacher dedicated to her students tries to mold them in her own concept of
enlightened womanhood. Her version of art, truth and beauty is not
universally accepted, however, and her dalliance with the school's art and
music teachers get her into trouble. Her refusal to compromise her values
deepen the trouble.
Everyone who ever attended school has a memory of one
particular teacher who had more impact on him or her than all the others.
This is the essence of the relationship of Marshall's Miss Jean Brodie to
the students in her charge. She's that special, one-of-a-kind teacher. She's
a free thinker who values curiosity, individuality and intellectual
discipline. In the early 1930s, long before the revelations of the excesses
of fascism, she is enamored with the rule of Italy's Benito Mussolini. She
takes sides in the Spanish civil war, and can't hold her tongue when it
comes to opinions of the Roman Catholic Church. Her era was one of
transition from a stilted past to what today would be called more liberated.
In her day, women who pursued a career in teaching had to sacrifice the
right to marriage - if they did marry, they were required by law to resign.
The stress between professional and personal satisfaction as a teacher and
the temptation to form close adult relationships with men their own age is
at the crux of the play.
Zinoman's production is elegant in its
set, costumes, lighting and sound. Erik Trester provides projections which turn the
set into a number of different locales through a design that is admirable
for its restraint. Rarely does he succumb to the temptation to use an
unnecessary projection just because the equipment is available. Actor
Richard Stirling, who plays the music teacher, is uncredited as musical
director for the production, but he is said to have worked closely with
Zinoman to select just the right pieces in what turns out to be a highly
musical show with the student's music lessons and singing in church setting
a lovely tone. Both Stirling and David Adkins, as the school's art teacher,
provide a touch of male presence in an otherwise powerfully feminine cast.
Catherine Flye is sharp as the easy-to-despise headmistress and Sarah Grace
Wilson, Elizabeth Chomko and the other students create distinct individuals.
As strong as the script is, and as impressive as is
the staging, there are moments in the play that make you wonder just what
Zinoman is doing. With a play requiring the cast to speak in a brogue
foreign to the ears of the local audience, she chooses to complicate the
task of those listening intently by introducing a strange reverberation in
the sound system for a key scene. She blocks a number of scenes in such a
way that significant portions of the audience can't see key events. Two portraits play an important
part in the drama. From the right side of the house, both portraits are
visible to the audience. From the left side, however, neither portrait can
be seen. One director might chose to let the audience see the portraits and
another might chose to keep them hidden. It is hard to understand, however,
just why half of the audience should see them and half not.
Written by Jay Presson Allen based on the novel by
Muriel Spark. Directed by Joy Zinoman. Design: Daniel Conway (set) Alex
Jaeger (costumes) Erik Trester (projections) Gil Thompson (sound) Elizabeth
van den Berg (dialect coach) Scott Suchman (photography) Susie Pamudji (stage manager). Cast: David
Adkins, Fiona Blackshaw, Elizabeth Chomko, Mary C. Davis, Meghan Fay, Sarah
Fischer, Catherine Flye, Talisa Friedman, Caroline Gotschall, Simone
Grossman, Rose McConnell, Sarah Marshall, Mackenzie Jo Pardi, Darcy
Pommerening, Elizabeth H. Richards, Richard Stirling, Ellen Warner, Sarah Grace Wilson. |
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January 4 - April 9, 2006
Fat Pig |
Reviewed January 8
Running time1:40 - no intermission
A touching
exploration of attitudes about body image
Winner of the Ushers' Favorite Show Award for January
Click here to buy the script |
After the success of Neil LaBute's The Shape of Things in 2002, Studio
mounts a festival of his works beginning with this emotionally
involving play which begins as a comedy and ends as a gripping emotional
drama. Director Paul Mullins allows the play to progress from comedy to
drama in easy steps, never forcing it to its dramatic side before the text
is ready for the transition. As a result, the impact of the final scene is
as touching as its author intended it to be. LaBute pulls no punches in this
climax, and neither do Mullins and his cast.
Storyline: Young upwardly mobile professional meets, and enjoys the
company of a young woman of extremely large proportions. They fall in love.
Can their attraction survive the disapproval of his friends and colleagues?
More to the point, can it survive his concern over their reaction?
The play poses a major challenge to a casting director.
Where to find an actress with the talent to pull off such a complex role who
has the physical proportions to make it work. A fat suit isn't an option as
LaBute, perhaps for that very reason, writes the climax in a beach scene
requiring maximum exposure. Studio solves the problem with a local actress
of impressive skills, Kate Debelack, who has previously been seen here both
in full Studio productions and in the developmental/experimental Secondstage
as well as Cherry Red, MetroStage and Project Y. The piece is obviously an
opportunity for her to dominate, and while she does a fine job of bringing
the hefty Helen to life, hers is not the strongest performance. That
distinction goes to Tyler Pierce as the slender, trendy yuppie who falls in
love with her. His final confrontation with his own limitations is the crux
of the play and he soars in its delivery.
LaBute writes fabulously deliverable dialogue with the
pace and pattern of the patter of intelligent, educated people who are
comfortable with the spoken word, yet each character has a distinct voice of
his or her own. Many of the sharpest lines in this play belong to the two
friends whose reactions to the affair are at the crux of the matter. Jason
Odell Williams knocks off one liners with aplomb, but is really at his best
when he reveals just a touch of inner angst as his character discusses his
relationship with his overweight mother. Anne Bowels throws a few blows of
her own, including one memorable upper cut.
Once again, the team of set, lights and sound
designers who created the slick, believable and striking world in which
LaBute's The Shape of Things transpired here three years ago manage
to give a play with multiple locales a unified look. From office to
apartment to restaurant, this is the world of young professionals in today's
business scene. Only in the final locale, a beach scene, does the visual
aspect falter for a bit. With characters reclining on beach towels laid out
on the carpet, the audience squirms to adjust their sight lines between the
heads in front of them in this shallowly raked house. The final, crucial
moments of the play bring that squirming to an end, however, as the tears in
the eyes of both performers capture and hold the audience's attention in the
collective experience that only the best of live theatre can provide.
Written by Neil LaBute. Directed by Paul Mullins.
Design: Debra Booth (set) Kate Turner-Walker (costumes) Michael Giannitti
(lights) Neil McFadden (sound) Carol Pratt (photography) Rebecca Berlin
(stage manager). Cast: Anne Bowles, Kate Debelack, Tyler Pierce, Jason Odell
Williams. |
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November 2 - December 11, 2005
Guantanamo: "Honor
Bound to Defend Freedom" |
Reviewed November 6
Running time 2:05 - one intermission
A troubling look at the fate of four detainees
Click here to buy the script |
It was a quiet crowd that filed out of Studio's Milton
Theatre following the harrowing experience of this unblinking presentation
by two British authors of the result of their research into the story of four of the prisoners/detainees who have been held at the
U.S. facility at Guantanamo Bay following the attacks of September 11, 2001
and the launching of the concerted war on terror. The crowd had just come to know
these four people as human beings, and been exposed to the pain they and
their families have felt over years of incarceration. Fine performances, a
striking visual design and the unblinking direction of Serge Seiden made the
experience extremely uncomfortable. The lack of a curtain call drove home
the message of the play . . . time continues to tick away for
the one out of the four who has not yet been released from confinement.
Storyline: Constructed from letters, interviews and the public record,
the stories of four British residents, apprehended in various countries in
the wake of 9/11 and incarcerated at Guantanamo, are told without any real
defense of the position of the government that has held them for over two
years and continues to hold one without charge.
What is the dividing line between exposé and
propaganda? Is it in the eye of the beholder who asks "is this in service of
a cause I agree with?" Or is it in the work itself which satisfies the test
"does this reveal a reality previously unexamined?" The program notes for
this production liken this play to The Laramie Project, which explored
a heinous hate crime. Unlike that balanced presentation, however, which
sought to understand not only what happened but how it could happen, this
one-sided look at an on-going situation stakes out its position and sticks
with it. If you are looking for a balanced examination of all sides of this
contemporary issue, look elsewhere.
Harsh Nayyar's portrayal of the pain
of the father of a prisoner held without charge, Andrew Stewart-Jones
personification of the pride of Jamal al-Harith, and Omar Koury's depiction
of the plight of a prisoner released without his brother who is still at Guantanamo,
bring the despair of the prisoner/detainees
and their families into vibrant clarity. What is missing is any intellectually defensible portrayal of those who perpetrate
these acts in the name of national security. For a moment it appears that
the authors will deal with the complexity of the issues when the brother of
a victim of the attack on the World Trade Center takes the stage, but he
ends up rejecting the policy which allows these incarcerations. Then Defense
Secretary Donald Rumsfeld - as performed by Leo Erickson - takes the
microphone. But, unlike The Laramie Project, which sought and
presented the views of both sides, this slice of administration policy is
selected from particularly incoherent responses at a press conference, and
not from any clear statement justifying the policy.
Gil Thompson pulls a nifty effect on the sound quality
for the opening
announcement by Lord Johan van Zyl Styn (Leo Erickson,
again) of the policy of Her Majesty's government supporting the
incarceration. It is delivered in a flat, obviously amplified PA system
feel. Later, the position of family members is given soft, full-spectrum
sonic richness. Giorgos Tsappas provides a chain link and bare bunk
environment which may be more sterile than reality, but no less troubling.
This isn't a place where you would want to spend years, which is, after all, the
authors' entire point.
Written by Victoria Brittain and Gillian Slovo.
Directed by Serge Seiden. Design: Giorgos Tsappas (set) Reggie Ray
(costumes) Michael Giannitti (lights) Gil Thompson (sound) Scott Suchman
(photography) Susie Pamudji (stage manager). Cast: Leo Erickson, Yvonne
Erickson, Kaveh Haerian, Nafees Hamid, David Bryan Jackson, Omar Koury,
John-Michael MacDonald, Ramiz Monsef, Harsh Nayyar, Andrew Stewart-Jones,
Dikran Tulaine. |
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October 5 - 23, 2005
Hilda |
Reviewed October 9
Running time 1:30 - no intermission
A stylish mounting of a disappointing play
on an intriguing issue
Click here to buy the script
(in a different translation) |
There's an intriguing play hiding in the issue being raised in
French-Senegalese author Marie Ndiaye's play. After all, theater excels as a
medium to examine the connections or distinctions between human
conditions. Ndiaye seems interested in exploring the similarities and
differences between economic servitude and that outlawed horror, chattel
slavery. But her approach to the topic
here is so blunt that there is little opportunity to view it in human terms. Bad
starts out bad and stays that way. Weak starts out helpless and gets weaker.
And the real victim never even shows up.
Studio is presenting the play in a production directed by Carey Perloff, of
San Francisco's American Conservatory Theater, which is slated to
transfer from Studio directly to an Off-Broadway house called 59E59 at 59
East 59th Street in New York. The three member cast will transfer with the
show for a one month run where the ticket price will be $45 (as opposed to
$32 - $52 here.)
Storyline: A wealthy woman wants to own a servant - not simply employ
one. Her need for control and submission is complete and she manages to
destroy her new maid's life in order to remove any competition for complete
loyalty: home, husband, children.
As
written, the inappropriate, unacceptable and excessive position of the
homeowner who wants to become a servant owner is plain from the opening
scene rather than becoming clear little by little over the course of the
evening. What is more, that should be as clear to the maid's husband as it
is to the audience and yet he seems inexplicably powerless to just say no.
We never actually see the woman she has
decided to obtain. All the negotiations over the terms of "employment," which
are laden with layers of manipulation, are with the poor maid's husband. How
he could have agreed to some of the demands and how his wife could have
consented to abide by his capitulation is never made either clear or
believable.
Still, there is an enjoyable performance here in the
work of Ellen Karas as the employer/owner/manipulator/controller. She's cool
and calculating, but, as with many forms of evil, it is hard to take your
eyes off her. Michael Earle has the unenviable task of trying to make the
husband of the maid human, and, while he can't quite make his decisions
understandable, he makes his pain over their consequences palpable. He has
one moment staring over the audience's heads to see his no-longer-available
wife that is memorably intense.
Stylish is the term for the visual impact of the
production. Donald Eastman designed a stark all-white set dominated by a
staircase coming down from the flies without banister or carpet runner - a pure
geometric construct. The white rear wall is a cloth drop rather than a solid
surface, however, and distractingly ripples whenever an actor walks near it. Nancy Schertler's
lights and shadows signal that different scenes take place in different
locations and David F. Draper's costumes give Karas a chromatic dominance to
match her characters' emotional dominance. David Lang takes the few lines in
the dialogue about mechanical music box dolls as the cue for a tinkling
musical score.
Written by Marie Ndiaye. Translated by Erika Rundle.
Directed by Carey Perloff. Design: Donald Eastman (set) David F. Draper
(costumes) Nancy Schertler (lights) David Lang (original music) Carol Pratt
(photography) Karen Storms (stage manager). Cast: Brandy Burre, Michael
Earle, Ellen Karas. |
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September 7 - October 16, 2005
A Number |
Reviewed September 11
Running time 1 Hour - no intermission
t
A Potomac Stages Pick for twin fabulous performances in a
fascinating short play
Click here to buy the script |
What is it with
Caryl Churchill, author of Cloud Nine,
Far Away and
Top Girls, which is now playing in a
Fountainhead Theatre production at Arlington's Theatre on the Run? Her plays
all seem to start out with fabulous concepts digging into intriguing
questions. The longer they last, however, the less captivating they seem to
become. This play has no such problem for it doesn't last long enough to
become unfocused or predictable. Indeed, it only lasts 56 minutes and that
includes an extended curtain call - extended not by the company's effort to
stretch, but by the audience's refusal to stop applauding. The accolades are
for Ted van Griethuysen and Tom Story, two actors we all know can chew up
the stage with emotion and intelligence because we have seen them do it here
before. The accolades are also, however, for Churchill's sharp script that
posits about one intellectual puzzle per minute, and for Joy Zinnoman who
selected the piece in the first place and then directs.
Storyline: A young man discovers that he is, in fact, but one of a number
of clones created out of the genetic material of his father's first son, who
died at an early age. The father, however, claims to have been unaware that
more than one copy was created, and neither father nor son are quite sure
which "son" is even the original clone.
Joy Zinoman directed Ted van Griethuysen and Tom Story,
in The Invention of Love, and all three of them came away with Helen
Hayes Award nominations in 2002. Here they sink their considerable dramatic
teeth into a piece that seems even shorter than its less than one hour
duration, for the time flies by at a tremendous clip. It engages the audience
in questions, then moves on without answering them, for most of the questions
are just beginning to emerge out of the world of genetic science. Churchill
identifies rather than resolves the quandaries and van Griethuysen and Story
put human faces on them.
It is hard to assess which is the more challenging
role. Story has to convincingly create a half-dozen different characters.
All look the same and have the same genetic make up. Each, however, is the
product of a different set of childhood experiences and circumstances. Van
Griethuysen, however, remains the same person but is revealed in more and
more depth and in different lights as more and more of the truth of the
situation is unveiled. Neither actor makes a single noticeable misstep in
the fast paced performance.
Zinoman avoids the trap of letting the design elements
become distracting even as each makes a striking contribution to the whole.
Debra Booth's spare set seems at first just a square of carpet and a chair.
Only as the events unfold do you become aware of screens for the projections
of Erik Trester. Brandee Mathies provides costumes that can make the entire
journey of the play without anyone taking a moment for a change, even during
the periodic dousing of Michael Lincoln's surgically precise lighting. Gil
Thompson uses some judicious editing and sampling to create a score out of
the Lennon, McCarntey White Album staple "Birthday."
Written by Caryl Churchill. Directed by Joy Zinoman.
Design: Debra Booth (set) Brandee Mathies (costumes) Michael Lincoln
(lights) Erik Trester (projections) Gil Thompson (sound) Karen Storms (stage
manager). Cast: Tom Story, Ted van Griethuysen. |
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May 18 - August 14, 2005
Take Me Out |
Reviewed May 22
Running time 2:10 - one intermission
* Mature themes/nudity
Winner of the Ushers' Favorite Show Award
for both May and June
t
A Potomac Stages Pick for the exhilaration that comes from a superb
production of a fine play
Click here to buy the script |
The Studio Theatre production of
Richard Greenberg's Tony Award winning play gives you the thrill that only a
superb production of a marvelous play can provide. It sends you out
exhilarated by the experience. To begin with, the play is eloquent in its
social commentary, humorous in its portrayal of what the allegiance to a
sport, a team or a friend means to modern day adults, and compassionate in
its view of human strengths and weaknesses. It slides from plot point to
character revelation to intellectual observation with an easy seamlessness,
at least when directed with style and a sense of pace which it gets here in the
smooth direction of Kirk Jackson. The production is blessed with fine
performances including two standout performances that are not to be
missed. Then, too, it has a scene of choreographic beauty remarkable in a
show without a choreographer being listed in the program.
Storyline: A baseball star causes a
public furor when he publicly acknowledges his homosexuality. He causes less
discomfort in the locker room and showers than might be expected until the
team hits a slump and brings up a new player from the minor leagues. The new
arrival is just what the team needed on the field, but has a streak of
bigotry that emerges in a press conference, tearing asunder the worlds of the newly outed star, the entire team and baseball
itself.
That Greenberg can write fascinating scripts comes as no
surprise to those who attended Rep Stage's production of
The Dazzle in 2003. The
strengths of Greenberg's scripts are are considerable:
nimble plotting, marvelous dialogue, very well constructed characters and a
lot of seemingly quotable lines that flit past you so quickly you feel you
would rather read the script than watch the show so you can linger over the
pithy observations. But if you did read, instead of watch, you would miss the fun of
watching just what director Jackson and the standouts in his cast do with
the material. Solution? Go see the show, then buy the script to savor the
wordplay.
The sports icon who takes himself out, revealing his
homosexuality almost casually, expecting no adverse consequences because bad
things don't happen to him - others yes, but not him - is smoothly played by
M.D. Walton who played that role under the original director, Joe Mantello,
in post-Broadway productions. Tug Coker does a fine job as well as his
narrating best friend. Both are making their Studio debuts. The Potomac Region
debut that is breathtaking, however, comes from Jake Suffian as the
apparently homophobic, nearly inarticulate player whose arrival from the
minor leagues shakes up the team. He is riveting in his ability to
communicate to the audience through the emotion of voice and gesture just
what his character can't communicate to his teammates. At the other end of
the communication scale is the character of the gay financial adviser who
discovers the wonders of baseball late in a life that has been, till then,
quite empty. It is a role that earned the Tony Award for Denis O'Hare on
Broadway. Here it is a role that is owned by Rick Foucheux. Having seen both
perform it, our preference is for Foucheaux.
The design here is sort of a miniature of the way it
was on Broadway, with the ball park's lights facing the audience, the
baseball diamond represented in a playing space in front of the movable
locker-room lockers and the exposed (in more ways than one) shower. The
matter of fact nudity is, if anything, a bit more intense because the
audience is much closer to it. The nudity is in no way gratuitous or
superfluous. As the script points out, a consequence of the announcement of
homosexuality is the loss of innocence in the club house ... "we now know we
are naked." It would be awfully hard to deliver that line wearing a towel.
The afternoon we saw this production there was an audible groan from one
member of the audience when the first naked ball player walked into the
locker room, but the audience soon became too absorbed in the text, plot,
characters, humor and language to spend too much of its energy concentrating
on nudity.
Written by Richard Greenberg. Directed by Kirk
Jackson. Design: Daniel Conway (set) Reggie Ray (costumes) Michelle Elwyn
(properties) Michael Lincoln (lights) Neil McFadden (sound)
Susie Pamudji (stage manager). Cast: Tug Coker, Matthew Deiss, Rick
Foucheux, Anthony Gallagher, Joel Reuben Ganz, Cesar A. Guadamuz, Ikuma
Isaac, Tom Quinn, Jake Suffian, M.D. Walton, Jeorge Bennett Watson.
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March 9 - April 24, 2005
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