The Water Tribe

Reviewed by Lara J. Altunian
EST/LA in association with VS. Theatre Company
Extended through February 16

Tribalism can be a double-edged sword. Though meant to bond people together, few things can make a group’s instigator feel more lonely than having their intention to unite lead to a rejection of their fidelity. Don Cummings’s world premiere play The Water Tribe explores the idiosyncrasies that go into the difficulties of forming your own clan. Though the concept is a good one, the play’s execution falls flat via a cast of stagnant characters whose unwillingness to change their early-identified problematic qualities drag the plot out without providing much resolve.

Claudia (Hannah Prichard) is a 20-something unemployed optimist without a family. She is in a high school–esque relationship with Johnny (Christopher Reiling), her boyfriend of three years who is also unemployed. Both are content to spend their days hanging out in the apartment Johnny’s mother Sydelle (Jayne Taini) has bought him, despite Claudia’s discomfort with Sydelle’s constant visits/interruptions. There they watch violent animal videos, have sex, eat pizza bagels, and do or talk about little else — their lazy, feel-good routine somehow doesn’t leave room for further substance in the relationship. Despite heavy, but accurate criticism from the few people in their lives, i.e., Sydelle, Claudia’s new sort-of-friend-from-work Brian (Jon Joseph Gentry), and her cousin/roommate Sonia (Alexandra Daniels), the two decide to get married.

In an attempt to steer Claudia away from settling down with Johnny and closing herself off from the rest of the world, Sonia suggests she go out and make a few friends. Claudia takes her advice to heart and decides to form her very own tribe with Johnny by attempting to unify the aforementioned characters, all while promptly pressing on with wedding plans. Meanwhile, Johnny gets a job as a janitor at a nearby Temple, and begins to meet new people who expose him to different philosophies. The contrived gatherings and Claudia’s unperturbed insistence at forcing friendships create problems, which come to a climax during the couple’s engagement party. The convoluted event results in the play’s predictable conclusion.

The simplistic plot is weighed down with dramatic details that appear important at the moment they are brought up, but ultimately deflate like unfinished subplots; they seem to solely serve to lengthen the play’s run. Situations such as a dying parent, the lack of clean water in a local neighborhood, and wild assumptions about communities in Africa all briefly come under discussion in what appears to be varying attempts at making statements about tribalism, but fade from the conversation almost as quickly as they are brought up.

Furthermore, Claudia and Johnny’s callowness comes across more grating than endearing. Their quirks and the slowly-revealed pieces of their backstory do help to soften the repulsive shell of their utter cluelessness. But after hearing the also-flawed, but miles-more-mature supporting cast consistently corner the couple and repeatedly spell out their obvious problems to them, it becomes difficult to retain any sympathy for the duo.

Prichard accurately portrays Claudia’s unassuming nature. Reiling, whose character is more laid back, also convincingly embodies the man-child that mirrors her inner insecurities. Gentry’s nuances make him the most likable character in the bunch, while Taini’s Sydelle, though also irritating at times, is the most sympathetic. Daniels does well as Claudia’s foil, turning what appears to be snooty judgement into quiet concern at the right moments. Her conversations with Claudia are the deepest and most meaningful.

Adam James Glover’s scenic design does the most with VS. Theatre’s tiny set, but odd placement and weak lighting and direction makes the location difficult to visually navigate.

Overall, Cummings’s play lacks focus. The need to belong is a universal feeling, and exploring that concept from the perspective of a character like Claudia adds nuance to the idea. However, as it is, her personality has the ability to turn the audience off from her antics, making her story far too little compelling to want to follow.

VS. Theatre, 5453 W. Pico Blvd., Wilshire Vista; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; extended through Feb. 16. (818) 839-1197 or https://www.estlosangeles.org/. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

La Virgen de Guadalupe, Dios Inantzin

Reviewed by Lara J. Altunian
Latino Theater Company, with Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels
Closed 

RECOMMENDED

In 1531, an Aztec peasant from Tepeyac (located in modern day Mexico City) — recently christened Juan Diego — saw an apparition of the Virgin Mary. She asked him to deliver a message to archbishop Fray Juan de Zumárraga requesting that he build a temple to honor her presence in the Americas, whereby she would bring comfort to the Natives suffering from injustice. Over the years, this Catholic story has become a pillar of hope and cultural pride for the people of Mexico. Today, its message of unity and peace creates an alternative Christmas classic, which Latino Theater Company and Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels (COLA) present vividly in their illustrious annual production.

For those unfamiliar with the legend (or historical event, depending on your perspective) the play’s plot is based on, Cuauhtlatotzin (Sal López) was one of the first Mexican people to be converted to Christianity shortly after the Spanish Conquest. He saw the first of four Marian apparitions on the morning of December 9 and immediately went back to tell the archbishop (Cástulo Guerra), who initially did not believe him. Despite accurately describing her clothing and glowing aspect, the main point of disagreement came from the fact that Juan Diego claimed the Virgin (Esperanza América) spoke to him in his native language of Nahuatl. The second was that her physical appearance resembled his own, rather than the traditionally more “accepted” European. However, a few prominent miracles led to the Catholic Church’s official acceptance of the eventually canonized (2002) Saint Juan Diego Cuauhtlatotzin’s recollection of events as true. In the apparitions, Mary identified herself as “The Ever Virgin, Holy Mary of Guadalupe” (derived from Nahuatl’s “coatlaxopeuh” or “the one who crushes the stone serpent”). Today, her temple, the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, is among the most important Roman Catholic pilgrimage sites in the world.

Now in its 17th year, Evelina Fernández’s adaptation of Nican Mopohua (1649) — Antonio Valeriano’s Nahuatl language account of the event — has become a yuletide tradition for many Spanish-speaking Angelinos happy to witness a reenactment of the miracle in person. Starting with its source material, the pageant fully validates the Native American experience, allowing Latinx Americans to reclaim an event often white-washed by history.

Furthermore, the play honors Aztec customs by way of including spectacular dances (choreography by General Lazaro Arvizu) such as the elaborate “Tonantzin,” which honors the Nahuatl Earth mother and Aztec goddess, whom the Virgin Mary also claims to be in her appearances to Juan Diego. This dual identity is not often or widely discussed, but its revelation within the play beautifully highlights the combination of indigenous and Catholic culture within the Mexican narrative. Arvizu’s work is enhanced by his costume design based on traditional Aztec regalia, Martin Gallardo and Christopher Garcia’s Aztec drums, and Martín Espino’s indigenous music and effects.

Much of the play also includes singing. América is a standout vocalist, whose musical and acting performance bring a strong sense of reverence to her role as the Virgin Mary. Equally impressive are the choir of adults and children who represent the voice of the people. The main cast altogether does a commendable job of portraying their historical characters. López’s humility as Juan Diego comes off as genuine, and even Guerra is able to portray the doubtful archbishop with a sense of likability. Geoffrey Rivas, Xavi Moreno, Luis Lopez Aldana and Dyana Ortelli — who play three friars and a maid — succeed in their comedic roles, which help break up some of the seriousness associated with the religious retelling. Damian Delgado does a good job as Tlamantini, christened Juan Bernadino — Juan Diego’s uncle who becomes a key player in the acceptance of his nephew’s spiritual account.

Director José Luis Valenzuela does a good job of keeping the movement flowing throughout the entirety of COLA’s main room of worship — through the aisles, along its stained glass windows located on the back wall, and all across its large stage. The balance of song and dance with recitation, and the show’s interactive portions whereby the congregation sings along with the cast, keep the piece entertaining. Likewise, Cameron Mock and Emily MacDonald’s simple set and other-worldly projection designs, primarily of the Virgin’s image, elevate the production.

Every year, La Virgen de Guadalupe, Dios Inantzin (“God’s beloved mother”) is free and open to all. Although performed in Spanish, the play is made generally accessible via English subtitles projected onto the front wall of the church. The opening speeches for this two-night run sited the importance of Los Angeles’s role as a sanctuary city for the undocumented. The comparison between the country’s modern-day treatment of Mexican and Latinx people with their historical treatment by the Spanish missionaries is tragically accurate. Hopefully, through plays such as this one, more Americans will learn to embrace the cultural patchwork quilt that makes up their beloved country.

Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, 555 W. Temple St., Downtown L.A.–Civic Center; Closed. https://www.thelatc.org/lavirgen. Running time: one hour and 45 minutes with no intermission.

Waiting for Waiting for Godot

Reviewed by Lara J. Altunian
Sacred Fools Theater Company
Extended through December 21

What could be more absurd than parodying an absurdist play? Dave Hanson’s Waiting for Waiting for Godot pays homage to Samuel Beckett by exploring the underlying themes in his famous tragicomedy about two men perpetually anticipating an event that never comes to pass. Full of stellar physical humor, entertaining wisecracking riffs, and philosophical discussions, the production is a string of wonderful ideas that would have better served the play had the concepts resonated a bit more consistently throughout the course of the evening.

Ester (Bruno Oliver) and Val (Joe Hernandez-Kolski) are the understudies for Estragon and Vladimir in Waiting for Godot. As they stand by backstage for instructions as to whether or not they will go on, they (not unlike the characters they’re named after) begin discussing their situation: Is tonight their night? What’s wrong with their costumes? Should they even keep acting? Unlike Beckett’s work however, these questions are punctuated with strong bouts of physical comedy that sees the two leads performing an impromptu song-and-dance number, amateur acting exercises, and a variety of different schticks that carry on throughout the play.

Physicality is where the play shines. Despite the original Godot having been written in the late ’40s, the characters’ bowler hats (props designed by Joyce Hutter) suggest an earlier Charlie Chaplin–like look to their appearance, setting the stage for slapstick from the very beginning. Steady overall direction (Jacob Sidney), particularly in fighting (Edgar Landa), ensure that every bit of the scenic design (Aaron Francis) is put to good use, without the purposely crowded–looking space ever dwarfing the performers.

Ester and Val’s antics, which include flips, using a hatstand to try to open a sugar packet, and wrestling with a vest both attempt to wear at the same time, are clear tributes to Laurel and Hardy–type silliness. The actors even bear a corporal resemblance to the two comedians, and in part match their personalities to them as well. Hernandez-Kolski is spot-on as the wide-eyed innocent, with solid moments of clarity and wisdom that pepper an otherwise clueless fog of gullibility. Oliver fully embodies the know-it-all doofus whose rationale stirs straight into insanity. Julie Marchiano who plays Laura — an assistant stage manager with whom the duo have a few key interactions — is the ultimate foil. Her presence brings a necessary balance to the show at its zaniest.

Ester’s haughty attitude occasionally drags the production down into repetitive lulls that unfortunately make the viewer feel all 90 minutes of the play. Although each of the skits echo Ester and Val’s shifting self esteem, some work better than others. Exceptionally powerful are their dialogue and speeches about the acting profession, which have the ability to strike a chord with most of the theater community.

Throughout the viewer is left asking themselves if the understudies’ dreams will actually come to fruition. Although anyone familiar with the original Godot can guess the ending, Hanson’s work still leaves one wondering what madness may come next, especially as the plot twists and turns toward the very end. A little tightening and fine tuning would make this play absolutely exceptional.

The Broadwater Second Stage, 6320 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood; Mon., Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., Dec. 8 & 15, 5 p.m.; extended through Dec. 21. (323) 207-5605 or https://tickets.sacredfools.org/. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

Orry

Reviewed by Lara J. Altunian 
Gentleman George Productions
Through November 11 

In his play, Orry, Nick Hardcastle celebrates one of Hollywood’s lesser known figures with a striking personality — three-time Oscar-winning costume designer Orry-Kelly. Mostly funny, at times melancholy, and overall full of 1920s flair, this tribute is an entertaining portrait of a person who became a vital cornerstone in filmmaking history. A few repetitive singsongy moments slow the plot down at points, but Hardcastle’s ability to keep the show going — particularly despite some significant technical difficulties witnessed the night I saw the production are a testament to his skill as a performer.

The audience is invited to Orry-Kelly’s open casket funeral at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Hollywood Hills. After a projection of the real Jack L. Warner begins to read his eulogy, Hardcastle (who wrote and stars as Orry) jumps up from his coffin, name drops a few of the well-known celebrities who attended the real Orry-Kelly’s service in 1964, and enthusiastically begins to relay his autobiography.

Born Orry George Kelly in Kiama, New South Wales, Australia, the costumier divulges his origins as the sewing-obsessed product of a critical mother beset on her English ancestry, and a rough-edged tailor father from the Isle of Man. The latter named his prized pink serrated carnation after his son, knowing early on that he was not your typical ball-kicking Aussie lad. The flamboyant Orry-Kelly moves to Sydney as a young adult and discovers a love of performing and the city’s wild nightlife. It isn’t long before an off-beat relationship with a local troublemaker and the urge to fully embrace his artistic side leads him to move to New York City. There he rubs elbows with local entertainers, becomes a bootlegger, and meets a future-famous English thespian with whom he has a tumultuous on-again, off-again affair that lasts most of the rest of his life. A successful hand-painted tie business and the stock market crash of 1929 result in his final and most important move to tinseltown where his life as a costume designer truly begins. The rest of the play is a deep dive into his time in Hollywood: the qualities that make his work famous, his many interactions with some of the Golden Age stars we know today, and the inner demons he faces throughout the ups and downs of his career.

Hardcastle’s play is based on Orry-Kelly’s real life memoire Women I’ve Undressed, which was discovered inside a pillow slip inherited by his grandniece decades after his death. The fact that it wasn’t published until after Australian documentarian Gillian Armstrong turned it into the 2015 film Women He’s Dressed frankly adds credibility to the material. Rather than a typical tell-all Hollywood book written to defame the author’s enemies, the account holds greater value as a recollection of a life mostly lived in the shadows by someone with an ironically bold personality. Orry-Kelly was known for being loud, opinionated, and at times difficult to work with, but charming and witty all the same — when sober. He knew many secrets and clearly had a lot to say about them.

Hardcastle captures this vividly in his portrayal, vibrantly singing ’20s and ’30s tunes about love and loss — an homage to Orry-Kelly’s vaudevillian history — between anecdotes to emphasize the emotional undercurrents of his stories. Some of these moments felt a bit long and redundant, but the better placed numbers, particularly the ones that came during climactic reveals in the plot, were well-punctuated by his on-stage partner titled “The Soubrette” (Danielle Heaton) in the program. She starts by greeting the audience members/mourners at the door before using simple props to transition between many supporting roles, mostly depicting comforting ghosts from Orry-Kelly’s past. Musical director Anthony Zediker’s service piano player acts as a third character in the play, setting the tone with his mood-enhancing melody, while also throwing in a few comic quips that add even more flavor to the show’s funniest segments.

The cast’s most commendable moment was their ability to power through a few major technical errors regarding the projectors. Two tall screens which flanked the casket (well-placed by scenic expert John Iacovelli) often displayed images from Orry-Kelly’s hometown and the many celebrities he met over the years. Some of these projections were late, others goofily skipped during Warner’s opening eulogy scene, and most egregiously, a large cinema screen in the back completely stopped working. Hardcastle in particular was able to glide through these moments fairly smoothly, using them as opportunities to amp the humor. The mistakes could have easily derailed the play. Instead, they made viewers focus on the performance, much how Orry-Kelly’s designs kept your eyes on the clothes and made the stars look elegant every time.

Hopefully, this limited “sneak peek” run will expand into a better-developed show in the near future. The talent and energy are there. Some fine tuning could truly make this play one you won’t want to miss.

The Lee Strasberg Theater & Film Institute, 7936 Santa Monica Blvd., West Hollywood; Thurs.-Sat. & Mon., 8 p.m.; Sat., 5 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m. & 6 p.m.; through Nov. 11. (310) 995-1682 or https://gentleman-george.com/. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

Miss Lilly Gets Boned

Reviewed by Lara J. Altunian 
Rogue Machine Theatre
Through October 28 

With a name like Miss Lilly Gets Boned, it’s hard for Bekah Brunstetter’s latest play not to grab your attention. The comedy boasts an interesting premise and fun performances that enliven the writer’s style. However, the plot tries to tackle too much and ends with a scattered message that doesn’t quite hit home.

Miss Lilly (Larisa Oleynik) is a polite, pious, and virginal Sunday school teacher at a Baptist church. Her sister Lara (Tasha Ames) is the polar opposite — a promiscuous spin instructor whose recent HPV diagnosis is making her question some of her lifestyle choices. Unlike Lara, 35-year-old Lilly is saving herself for someone ideal (“tall, with an accent, who wears blazers!”) but struggling to stay patient and content as she waits for the Lord to bring her a life partner. In walks Richard (Iman Nazemzadeh), the recently-widowed father of Lilly’s difficult and outspoken student Jordan (Brady Amaya). Richard is a cool, calm South African archaeologist who expresses interest in Lilly right away. After a few adorably awkward conversations he asks her out to tea and well, it doesn’t take much for Lilly to take his presence as a sign from God.

Meanwhile, far away, Dr. Vandalla Bhalla (Kavi Ladnier) is attempting to reform Harold (Justice Quinn), a six-year-old caged elephant who has been imprisoned for charging and killing a woman in Nigeria. Harold is stubborn, seemingly remorseless, and constantly lashing out against the optimistic elephant specialist who is so eager to save him from public execution. Their sessions are intercut with scenes from Lilly’s small-town setting. Harold’s tale initially appears to be a separate story, but a link is soon revealed between the two as the elephant’s attitude begins to reflect Lilly’s unraveling situation.

Brunstetter, known for her award-winning play The Cake (2017), and her work on well-known TV shows such as This is Us and American Gods, has a knack for writing entertaining dialogue. In Boned her characters’ exchanges and monologues are filled with clever double entendre, both sexual and literal. Eventually, some of these symbolic representations manifest physically — a dash of magical realism is used to enhance the plot without overpowering it. That is until the ending.

During the last “act,” the plethora of topics stacked into the play’s manifesto — violence, sexuality, morality, environmentalism — overwhelmingly compete with and eclipse one another. The eclectic, surrealistic elements which first cause intrigue start to feel superfluous and goofy. Exciting twists give way to contrived conclusions that are both choppy and incomplete. The only exceptions are the questions brought up in Lilly and Lara’s storylines regarding sexuality. The women’s paths begin amusingly, but their clear cut outcomes exude a sense of dowdiness that puts a damper on this otherwise progressive production.

Though the cast is not entirely able to navigate their way out of the plot’s pitfalls, they are the greatest advocates for the writing, each playing their characters to a tee. Larisa Oleynick (which children of the ’90s will recognize as the title character in The Secret World of Alex Mack) is the quintessential gawky innocent with a lovable spunky side. Nazemzadeh emanates suaveness as Richard. He and Oleynick feed off of each other brilliantly, bringing out the humor in their characters’ stereotypes with every discussion and squabble. The same goes for Oleynick and Ames, who is biting and brash as Lara. Amaya is convincing as a confused and traumatized smart aleck kid, and Ladnier is endearing as the sanguine elephant doctor.

The production’s overall design is also captivating. One of the most impressive aspects of the play is Harold’s puppeteer team, led by designer Sean Cawelti. Quinn, who conveys the elephant’s emotions goes deep with his facial expressions, which he pairs smoothly with the gentle control of the elephant trunk. Rachael Caselli and Amir Levi are excellent at maneuvering Harold’s legs and body, portraying a realistic quality to the gentle giant’s gait and grunts.

Christopher Moscatiello’s sound design adds power and vitality to the performances. Stephanie Kerley Schwartz’s scenic design makes good use of the stage, which is divided into multiple freestanding sections to represent the church, characters’ bedrooms and Harold’s holding cell. Martha Carter’s lighting design finesses the division between each set when they are in use. Adding to the setup is Mark Royston’s transitional shadow puppet design with Michelle Hanzelova’s graphic design displayed upon the Church’s stained glass window. The projections portray Lilly’s Biblical retellings and part of Harold’s story, emphasizing and expanding some of the narrative’s finer details. All of these elements are able to come together smoothly thanks to Robin Larsen’s direction.

Miss Lilly Gets Boned is a strange show with an approachable plot that tends to get lost in its grandiose messages. However, it’s good for some laughs and, after weeding through its more questionable stances and presentations, still has the power to trigger useful debates over the many issues it ask viewers to consider.

The Electric Lodge, 1416 Electric Ave, Venice; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; Mon., 8 p.m.; no performances Mon., 10/14 or Fri., 10/18; through Oct. 28. (855) 585-5185 or https://www.roguemachinetheatre.net/miss-lilly-gets-boned. Running time: one hour and 45 minutes with no intermission.

The Joy Luck Club

Reviewed by Lara J. Altunian 
Sierra Madre Playhouse
Through October 5 

Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club (1989) has undoubtedly become a classic piece of mother-daughter literature. The novel is composed of 16 vignettes, which tell the story of four Chinese immigrant women and their American-born girls. Despite focusing on one single ethnic experience, the plot touches on universal themes of legacy, multi-cultural upbringing, and inter-generational understanding. Its popularity has led to a 1993 film adaptation and Susan Kim’s 2007 play.

Although the work has been mounted several times in theaters all across the country, Sierra Madre Playhouse is the first to feature an all-Chinese cast. Additionally, director Tim Dang’s interpretation includes stunning, yet simplistic details that add an authentic layer to the production.

Even though this rendition captures the spirit of Tan’s celebrated narrative, the cast’s performances fall a bit short. There were plenty of hiccups during the sold out opening weekend. These moments, mixed with a few drawn out scenes notably lacking movement, weighed the play down.

Shortly after Suyuan Woo (Sharline Liu)’s sudden death, daughter Jing-Mei, who goes by June (Nancy Ma), is asked to take her mother’s place in the Joy Luck Club — a gathering Suyuan started with three other women she befriended upon moving to San Francisco decades prior. Like Suyuan when she was alive, each of the women — An-Mei Hsu (Grace Shen), Ying-Ying St. Clair (Peggy Lu), and Lindo Jong (Lee Chen) — have distinct personality quirks their children find foreign and embarrassing. Rose (April Lam), Lena (Katharine Chen Lerner), and Waverly (Christine Liao) have trouble relating to their mothers’ superstitions, rigidness, and in June’s case, obsession with talent. Throughout the play, the eight women tell stories about their childhoods that explain their filial frustrations and the multiple misunderstandings that have framed their strained relationships.

Act I’s stories base themselves in the characters’ individual perspectives and criticisms of their parents or offspring. The transitions between these yarns are smooth and reveal the intimate, attention-grabbing details Tan originally laced into her writing. Act II consists of mother-daughter discussions that vividly elaborate upon the first act’s motifs. Each mother reveals a secret detail from her past in order to encourage her daughter to find inner strength. This structure cleverly conjoins the otherwise independent anecdotes.

The stories are brought to life through reenactments requiring multiple wig (Diahann McCrary) and color-coordinated costume (Jojo Siu with Barbara Phillips) changes from each of the 12 actors on stage. Smart projections (Yee Eun Nam) seamlessly translate Mandarin phrases that have been added to the script. They also help distinguish the eight main characters by name when first introduced. Delicate strings (Nathan Wang) create a custom soundtrack for each family.

Although the performers are able to accurately portray their roles, some of their energy is dispersed in exaggerated bouts of overacting, particularly during more comic scenes. The dramatic sequences beautifully encapsulate the plot’s darker, more serious tones. But the funnier moments are hit-and-miss. Some nail the awkward exchanges any mother-daughter duo could relate to. Others are forced and dopey thanks to sitcom-ish acting.

Dialogue is the play’s driving force. However, many of the second act’s climactic conversations often feel passive because they begin with static soliloquies. The monologues last too long before the action takes over. Combatting some of these junctures throughout the work are carefully curated slow motion sweeps of movement (Tom Tsai) imitating those seen in Chinese opera and martial arts. Their presentation behind a thin, translucent rope curtain (Nam) adds a spiritual touch to the performance.

Detracting from these gentle gestures the night I saw the show were clumsy costume mishaps such as broken bracelets and falling purses. Most distracting of all were the actors who consistently stuttered through their lines. Every other scene contained a noticeable blooper.

The Joy Luck Club is a tender story that speaks to the American experience of adjusting to a new life while carrying the wounds from an old one. Its style makes it a challenging book to transform into a play. Sierra Madre wonderfully expands upon Pan Asian Repertory Theatre’s original production. Some fine tuning and a more steadily dynamic presentation could elevate this show into something incredible.

Sierra Madre Playhouse, 87 W. Sierra Madre Blvd., Sierra Madre; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat.-Sun., 2:30 p.m.; through Oct. 5. (626) 355-4318 or https://ci.ovationtix.com/35040/production/1005089. Running time: two hours and 30 minutes with one 15-minute intermission.

Hannah and the Dread Gazebo

Reviewed by Lara J. Altunian 
The Fountain Theatre in association with East West Players
Through September 22 

Currently experiencing its California premiere at The Fountain Theatre, Jiehae Park’s latest play is a cute, but messy dramedy that combines Korean culture and politics with a unique, yet relatable story about spirituality and identity. Although the concept is compelling, the narrative’s convoluted development leads to a finale that provides the audience with little catharsis.

Studious Hannah (Monica Hong) is preparing to take her final exam to become a pediatric neurologist when she receives a mysterious package labeled “a wish,” which includes a suicide note from her maternal grandmother. After failing to get in contact with her family, Hannah hops on a 17-hour flight to Seoul, South Korea. There she finds her parents (Hahn Cho and Janet Song) and brother Dang (Gavin Lee) dealing with an even bigger problem — grandmother’s disappeared body. They quickly reveal to Hannah that the old woman leapt off the top floor of her apartment building for senior living located right on the border of North and South Korea, and straight into the demilitarized zone. Entering the DMZ would immediately start an international incident.

The bleak situation affects each character differently, forcing them to deal with their inner conflicts regarding family as they fight against an unsympathetic government for the right to bring their grandmother home.

The play contains quite a few profound and commendable plotlines that enhance the story. These include the Americanized Dang being accused of racism against his own people, and the vivid intertwining of Korea’s founding legend with the family’s emotional journey.

Additionally, many moments add welcome comic relief to the sometimes-grim tale. Especially when involving cultural misconceptions and language barriers. Jully Lee, credited as “Shapeshifter”, is particularly funny in her portrayal of multiple Korean citizens the family meets during their quest. She switches between each role with ease, donning and discarding Michael Allen Angel’s simple props, while maneuvering around Yee Eun Nam’s movable set and video projections. Jennifer Chang’s direction shines in every one of Lee’s appearances. The actress steals the show in all of her interactions with the other characters. However, the rest of the cast notably brings their personal brand of enriching humor to the table as well, creating an entertaining dynamic on stage.

The biggest problem with Park’s play is her staging of the narrative. Throughout, Hannah consistently breaks the fourth wall to speak to the audience about every story’s need for a beginning, middle, and end. The mundane concept is stressed so often, it serves as a distraction to the unfolding events, adding nothing whatsoever to the story. Further agitating the problem is Park’s final message, which remains murky, primarily because of the play’s anticlimactic conclusion.

Hannah and the Dread Gazebo is a thoughtful piece that reflects on “the in-between”. Multiple elements stir the characters through limbo both literally and figuratively as they wait to find out their family members’ fates, as well as their own. A stronger ending and fewer tangents would allow that theme to be felt more deeply.

The Fountain Theatre, 5060 Fountain Ave., East Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat.-Sun., 2 p.m.; Mon., 8 p.m.; through Sep. 22. (323) 663-1525 or https://www.fountaintheatre.com/event/hannah-and-the-dread-gazebo/. Running time: 95 minutes with no intermission.