March

Reviewed by Dana Martin
Los Angeles LGBT Center and Playwrights’ Arena
Through November 15th

LA’s LGBT Center and Playwrights’ Area have gone (COVID compliantly) rogue by staging high stakes drama in the LGBT Center parking garage. (The audience watches the action from within their cars, sound broadcast through a pre-set FM radio station.) March, conceived and directed by Jon Lawrence Rivera and written by MJ Brown, Amir Levi, Coretta Monk, Alex Budin, Chad Christopher, Matthew Clark, Brandon English, MARDOZA, Jon Lawrence Rivera, Roland Ruiz and Nick Salome, is high stakes melodrama with a lot of heart. 

It’s the year 2045 and things are not going well. Mary (Coretta Monk), Lavinia (Amir Levi) and Sydney (MJ Brown/Miss Barbie Q), a hastily formed trio of outcasts on the run, find themselves in a parking lot with nowhere to hide. An oppressive, domineering military presence occupies the area, apprehending any person who identifies outside strict assigned gender norms. Mary and Sydney are black transgender women and Lavinia is multi-racial and non-binary — therefore all three are being hunted like prey. Soon, cis white male Captain Calley (Chad Christopher) and his clan of law-and-order loving military soldiers confront the trio. The Captain issues one singular command: Conform. The trio are ordered to shed their chosen identities and join the fold post-haste. It’s a bleak fate: a fall-in-line, militarized existence, erased of all personal preference or individuality.

The stylized action and sprinkling of magic realism create an otherworldly atmosphere (if only just barely). The play’s major themes circle personal authenticity and pride in one’s identity. The show exemplifies the dangers the trans community faces and foreshadows a highly intolerant future. Overall, the story lacks expositional clarity and plot details are vague. The masks and face shields the actors wear throughout aren’t too terribly distracting because of the clarity of the sound but intimacy is still lost. Yet, what the production lacks in plot and story detail is made up for through concept and execution. The experience as a whole is exciting. And the brisk 45-minute run time makes the constant high stakes manageable.

Amir Levi is fiery and defiant as Lavinia; always ready for a fight and not having to look very far to find one. Coretta Monk’s faith-filled Mary is even-tempered and level-headed. MJ Brown (Miss Barbie Q) finds a gritty, straight-forward Sydney who works hard to outpace her demons.

All three characters share many intimate personal details; they lament and lambast, shout, accuse and defy — but rarely make authentic connections with the audience or each other. Chad Christopher creates an effective cameo as sinister Captain Calley. The soldiers (Alex Budin, Matthew Clark, Diego de Los Andes, Brandon English, MARDOZA and Roland Ruiz) provide unified and intimidatingly homogenized support.

Jon Lawrence Rivera’s direction is fast-paced and he fuels the drama with relentlessly high octane. Rivera centralizes most of the action to a common area, making decent use of the site-specific space. The action is simply staged, and brief, stylized transitions maintain the play’s momentum. Lighting design by Matt Richter is innovative and highly functional. Richter blends industrial flood lights and small, strategically placed faders/strobe lights, creating a stark, severe environment. Edwin Peraza’s sound design is spot-on, generating an eerie, otherworldly vibe. The sound mix via the radio is excellent, while the actors are clearly heard, even through masks and face shields. Mylette Nora’s costume design finds the contrast between individual expression and bland conformity.

As COVID continues to cripple our theatre community, Playwrights’ Arena forges a way forward into the strange new world of socially distant theatre — an art form that is constantly re-inventing itself. March, a dark, intense, over-the-top melodrama in the form of a live-action, drive-in radio play in a Hollywood parking garage, is a testament to that reinvention.

(Funds raised by this production of March will support Homeless Youth Programs that assist trans and gender non-conforming youth.)

LALGBT Center and Playwrights’ Arena at The Garage at the LGBT Center’s Anita May Rosenstein Campus, 1118 N. McCadden Pl., Hlywd.; Sat.-Sun., 7:30 & 9 p.m.; through Nov. 15th. lalgbtcenter.org/theatre. Running time: 45 minutes.

The Father

Reviewed by Dana Martin
Pasadena Playhouse 
Through March 1

RECOMMENDED

Getting old is painfully difficult. Pasadena Playhouse’s newest production, The Father, is a fascinating yet frustratingly unclear story that examines a rapidly shifting dynamic between parent and child as the line between reality and delusion becomes increasingly blurred. Written by Florian Zeller, with translation by Christopher Hampton, The Father is a choppy depiction of dementia and assumes the point of view of the afflicted.



André (Alfred Molina) was once a titan of a man but the intelligence, sharp wit and authority he’d been accustomed to wielding has faded and his behavior has become increasingly childlike and unpredictable. His stalwart daughter Anne (Sue Cremin) is at her wits’ end; she’s looking for a replacement caretaker for André — the last one having quit after André accused her of stealing and subjected her to a barrage of other insults as well. Anne’s partner Pierre (Michael Manuel) is supportive but fed up. As André’s disease progresses, he sometimes fails to recognize Anne and Pierre; he mistakes their apartment for his own; and he comes to believe that Anne is hatching a sinister plot against him. He idealizes his (presumably deceased) favored daughter and wonders why she never visits. He compulsively checks for his watch like a man on borrowed time. Even his environment slowly disintegrates around him. As dementia encroaches on reality, André becomes shrinking and afraid, a shell of his former self. 


Alfred Molina makes a thorough examination of André’s vulnerability. Molina’s André is most compelling when he is thoroughly weak, frightened and confused. It’s a well-crafted, powerful performance. Sue Cremin is satisfactory as André’s dutiful daughter Anne but is often overshadowed by the compelling Molina. Michael Manuel provides solid support as Anne’s long-suffering partner Pierre whose patience has run thin. Lisa Renee Pitts adds much to the production, playing a variety of characters with sympathy and strength in equal measure.



Jessica Kubzansky directs a clean production, navigating a clear enough route through the script’s choppy storytelling. It’s not easy to make sense of delusion, and Kubzansky rises to the occasion. Denitsa Bliznakova’s costumes are subtle and serviceable. Elizabeth Harper’s lighting design is broadly dramatic. David Meyer finds much versatility and surprise in a seemingly straightforward set. John Zalewski’s sound design adds a dramatic, cinematic effect and advances the storytelling during the play’s many transitions in darkness.



Playwright Florian Zeller keeps the action intentionally disorienting. Just as a scene comes into focus, the audience is abruptly, repeatedly thrust into darkness. The effect moves from exciting to disorienting to irritating. The story is fractured, abrupt and sometimes repetitive, constructed to reflect a scattered, unreliable, disintegrating memory. Faces and identities of those who surround and care for Andre become interchangeable. Scenes lurch, seemingly indiscriminately, back and forth through time. It’s difficult to distinguish reality from the hazing effects of André’s advancing dementia.



The Father explores the complexities of a shifting father-daughter dynamic as Anne assumes responsibility for André when he can no longer care for himself. Credited as a tragic farce, The Father is ultimately far more tragic than farcical. André, once a man larger than life, is broken, confused and alone; it’s almost too painful to bear.

Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena; Tues.-Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 2 p.m. & 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m. & 7 p.m.; through Mar. 1. PasadenaPlayhouse.org. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

Miracle on 34th Street: A Live Musical Radio Play

Reviewed by Dana Martin
Actors Co-op
Through December 15

The Actors Co-op finds Christmas spirit through 1940’s nostalgia this holiday season. Lance Arthur Smith’s new adaptation of Miracle on 34th Street: A Live Musical Radio Play has serious Christmas spirit, replete with a variety of Christmas music, old-timey adverts and jingly jingles.

The studio audience is gathered and the Lux Radio Broadcast is about to go live as a handful of eager actors file in to the studio ready to voice the evening’s featured presentation, Miracle on 34th Street. The story finds Macy’s employee Doris Walker in a pinch. She’s tasked with hiring a last-minute replacement Santa Claus for the department store’s annual Thanksgiving Day parade. None other than Kris Kringle applies for the gig and he’s an instant sensation. Kris commits to finding the right toy for each child and soon “business as usual” takes an unexpected turn. Kris is forced to defend his true identity and soon a trial is underway to determine Mr. Kringle’s sanity.

Lauren Thompson’s strong vocals serve as a touchstone for many of the evening’s difficult harmonies. Thompson’s Doris Walker is warm, no nonsense and consummately wholesome. Phil Crowley pulls triple duty as the evening’s accompanist, Radio Announcer and reformed department store owner, Mr. Macy. Sal Sabella’s Kris Kringle is the most at ease performance of the evening. Callie Chae Pyken is innocence personified as Gracie DeMarco who voices a precocious young Susan Walker. Pyken’s sweet scenes and charming musical numbers are certainly the production’s highlight.

Director Joseph Leo Bwarie neatly stages the action and makes light use of prop and costume pieces when the actors move in and out of caricature. The musical’s presentational style isn’t fully realized and there’s little sense of who the characters are outside of the character voices/personas donned for the broadcast. 

Anthony Lucca’s music direction navigates a wide range of styles and several complex harmonies which the performers execute mostly successfully. Anna Aimee White’s choreography is tidy and well-suited to the tight space. The concentrated movement keeps the story’s action fluid. Tanya Orellana’s set design is a cozily cramped recording studio. Actors negotiate the tight space admirably but aren’t given much room to maneuver. Lighting design by Martha Carter is jolly. Jessica Mills’ hair design is dapper and era-appropriate. Robert Arturo Ramirez’ sound design is well-blended and the vocals remain the central focus.

The actors create ambient sound effects throughout: ringing phones, slamming doors, footsteps and poured coffee. These are never short on charm. The radio play itself meanders in and out of the featured story, depleting any sort of central focus. The show clips along nicely in the first act, but the ballad-heavy second act loses considerable steam and energy and finds several of the performers vocally tired. The performances are charmingly earnest, but there’s simply too much material.

Miracle on 34th Street was produced as a Lux Radio broadcast following the film’s 1947 release and starred the original cast, which included Maureen O’Hara, John Payne, Natalie Wood and Edmund Gwenn. The Actor’s Co-op joyfully re-creates the spirit of that event and makes a strong case for Christmas by exploring the season’s most important elements: faith and love.

The Actors Co-op, 1760 N. Gower St., Hollywood; Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 2:30 p.m. & 8 p.m.; Sun., 2:30 p.m.; through Dec. 15. (323) 462-8460 or actorsco-op.org. Running time: two hours with one 10-minute intermission.

Fruition

Reviewed by Dana Martin
Theatre of NOTE
Through December 7

According to Alexis DeLaRosa, we’re totally fucked. The future is grim; it’s violent and dangerous. His new play Fruition deep dives into a dystopian apocalypse in the not too distant future. It’s violent, suspenseful, action-packed and ultimately plot heavy.

Rainer (DeLaRosa) is having a bad day. He’s one of a few surviving resistance fighters against a deadly militia in a dangerous, oppressive dystopian society. He’s just murdered a couple of bad guys in a violent confrontation in an abandoned warehouse when he encounters Forest (Trevor H Olsen), a journalist on the run from the militia himself. Rainer is suspicious of Forest but joins forces with him despite his misgivings; there’s a nuclear storm brewing outside and the two need to stay put. Soon they meet another unlikely pair: Laila (Kathleen O’Grady) and Helga (Faith Imafidon), newfound friends who guard each other’s lives. The duos are barely acquainted and they certainly don’t trust each other, but they begrudgingly form an alliance and agree to protect one another and ride out the storm.

DeLaRosa’s portrayal of troubled hero Rainer is committed and intense; he’s written his own perfect role. Faith Imafidon’s Helga is a strong presence and she’s tough-as-nails, although her more tender moments are under-voiced and therefore lost. Kathleen O’Grady’s Laila is a dependable presence and brings a sense of calm to the storm. Trevor H Olsen is earnest and sincere as Forest. As militia bad guy Rollo, Travis York finds a villain in broad strokes. Nick Smerkanich and Thomas A. Fitzgerald play various militia enemies throughout and handle most of the fight choreography well.

Director Lauren Smerkanich keeps the play urgent and suspenseful and finds a nice flow to the play’s many locations. Set designer Amanda Knehans employs the entire space creatively and effectively, providing plenty of room for the play’s heavy action. Designer Alexander Le Vaillant Freer’s lighting is lively and dramatic. Mark McClain Wilson’s sound design is dynamic but lacks subtlety during the play’s too few affecting moments. Michael Mullen’s costume design is well textured, well-fitted and functional. Fight choreographer Sondra Mayer stages multiple high intensity encounters with precision. Original music composition by Hauk Heimdallsman lends the play a cinematic quality.

Fruition certainly sets a definitive tone but it’s hard to get a clear sense of any of the characters. Character development often takes a backseat to plot. The threat of violence and danger looms heavily in almost every moment. But Fruition’s most compelling ones happen between the bouts of violence and danger, when the characters are simply attempting to connect with one another at the risk of truly being seen. What could possibly be more frightening?

Theatre of NOTE, 1517 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; through Dec. 7. (323) 856-8611 or www.theatreofnote.com. Running time: one hour and 40 minutes with no intermission.

Romeo and Juliet in Hell

Reviewed by Dana Martin
Force of Nature Productions 
Through November 23

Playwright/director Matt Ritchey wonders what happens in literary hell, the Bard’s abyss where all of Shakespeare’s dead heroes reside, condemned to eternal damnation by way of off-key Sondheim. Romeo and Juliet in Hell is a fast moving, lighthearted hour of odd encounters that are filled to the brim with theater jokes.

Newlyweds Romeo (Colton Butcher) and Juliet (Lauren Diaz) may have just arrived in hell but they’re still totally in love. Crossing over hasn’t quelled the duo’s raging hormones and the pair paw at each other every chance they get. But the unusual teenage honeymoon is soon cut short when they encounter former foes, current best buds Tybalt (Carlos Chavez) and Mercutio (Nick Ley) who inform the lovers of their tragic fate: eternal damnation (and contractual obligation) to listen to Tony (J. Elijah Cho) from West Side Story sing “Maria.” Forever.

Savvy Juliet spots a contract clause which takes the dead duo on a journey through their own short-lived love story told by a motley crew of the Bard’s best dead: a clueless Hamlet (Mikael Mattison), a very Scottish Macbeth (Graydon Schlichter), a wild-eyed and perpetually shouting Lady M (Therese Olson), a luscious Desdemona (Chloe Zubiri), and a still suspicious Othello the Moor (Brenton Sullivan). Storylines are cleverly confused and the famous couple’s relationship goes up in flames.

The actors play with enthusiasm and understand the piece’s comedic style. No one overcomplicates the jokes or the action, which is zany enough as is. Lauren Diaz finds an exuberant Juliet who moves between young love and jealousy. Colton Butcher’s Romeo is a lovable, doe-eyed dummy. Therese Olson’s Lady Macbeth is outlandish and amusing. Nick Ley’s Mercutio is silly and a great fit for Carlos Chavez’s over-the-top Tybalt. Jennifer Novak Chun enacts a less-than-confident rendition of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” which sets an awkward tone.

Playwright/director Matt Ritchey finds a steadily paced 60 minutes of clever stupidity and never pushes the action or tempo to extremes. (One caveat: He trusts that the audience will catch the many inside theatre jokes — which is great for the theatre geeks, but significantly less amusing for those with little knowledge of the Bard.)

Set design by Jerry Chappell gives the space a cartoonish feeling. Costume design by Gail Murray, Leanne Hall and Melissa Munoz is on-the-nose. Light design by Sebastian Munoz is minimalistic.

Originally produced at the Hollywood Fringe Festival, Romeo and Juliet in Hell retains its structural simplicity and driven energy, both of which serve its current incarnation. It’s a fun, fast-paced screwball comedy reserved for Bill’s most famous dead heroes.

Actors Workout Studio, 4735 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8:30 p.m.; through Nov. 23. fonprods.tix.com. Running time: 65 minutes with no intermission.

Charlotte Stay Close 

Reviewed by Dana Martin
EST/LA
Extended through November 3

Playwright Christine Hamilton-Schmidt knows that familial relationships die hard despite imposed distance or inherent dysfunction. Charlotte Stay Close finds a young woman navigating repressed family dysfunction in the final days of her life. The production, in its world premiere at EST/LA, struggles to find the intended weight of the story.

Twenty-something Charlotte (Jenny Soo) has terminal cervical cancer. She’s in hospice after having returned to her childhood home, to pass away near her sister Kathryn (Tarah Pollock) and her brother-in-law Dustin (Andy Shepard). But Charlotte has a distant relationship with both of them. What’s worse, Kathryn and Dustin’s marriage is also in its final stages of life — they can barely stand each other and argue constantly.

Still, both Kathryn and Dustin want to make up for lost time with Charlotte and each care for her in their own way: Kathryn stonewalls and Dustin shows vulnerability. Kathryn bullies, Dustin comforts. Kathryn is jealous and suspicious of Dustin’s affection and attention toward Charlotte and belittles him every chance she gets. Their relentless marital troubles take center stage, forcing Charlotte into a supporting role — on her own deathbed at the end of her own life. The sisters share a juvenile relationship and Kathryn uses Charlotte as her personal sounding board and punching bag until the bitter end. Charlotte’s closest bonds are with an unseen nurse and the ghost of her mother.

The actors find little chemistry amongst themselves. They lack specificity of place as well as for the origin of their respective physical and emotional pain. Jenny Soo finds a witty, snarky Charlotte who’s so full of life and vitality that it’s hard to believe she’s so close to death. Soo never quite settles into the weariness of one who has long battled terminal cancer. Tarah Pollock’s Kathryn is cold, cruel and mostly unlikeable. She’s so staunchly antagonistic throughout that the character’s more tender, affectionate moments ring false. Andy Shepard’s Dustin is endearing, and he is the most at ease of the three actors.

Director Jonathan Muñoz-Proulx’s scene transitions are smooth, but he misses many opportunities to mine the complexity of the relationships and the waves of grief each character expresses. The scenes do clip but there isn’t enough space or time allowed for the depth of feeling grief brings. Stephen George’s sound design is top notch; it compresses time and lends a sense of urgency to the story. Amanda Knehans’s set design is versatile, clean and effective. The hospital room continuously shifts perspective to cleanly accommodate an audience in the round. Melanie Fairchild’s costumes are simplistic.

Hamilton-Schmidt’s dialogue is sparse, pointed and reveals the ugliness of denial, the messiness of grief. But the play spends much of its time on marital spats and frivolous jealousy rather than digging into the root of the sisters’ pain. Their relationship is emotionally volatile and completely dysfunctional, the obvious products of a broken family. Charlotte refuses to contact her estranged father, and the siblings vehemently disagree about their shared familial history, the level of abuse suffered by their mother and why their father walked out on them. Charlotte Stay Close doesn’t offer any sort of resolve or cathartic loving send off, just bickering until the bitter end. Typical family drama.

Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave., Atwater Village; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; Extended through Nov. 3. (818) 839-1197 or dime.io/events/charlotte-stay-close. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

Never Ever Land

Reviewed by Dana Martin
Theatre Unleashed
Through October 27

Theatre Unleashed starts with the man in the mirror. Playwright Rider Strong’s new play Never Ever Land deals with the accusations of sexual abuse made against Michael Jackson in the early 90’s and the subsequent charges brought against him. The story is all but ripped from the headlines and draws heavily on the allegations of Jackson’s real-life accusers. Strong does a decent job of dramatizing these events without ever mentioning the singer’s name. While the subject matter is compelling, Never Ever Land never quite packs the punch it promises.

The Gable family has problems. Divorced parents DeAnna Gable (Marie-Francoise Theodore) and Jerry Gable (Josh Randall) are shallow and self-interested struggling artists. Gerry is a dentist with screenwriting ambitions while DeAnna is an out of work actress. The former couple regularly use their adolescent sons Tim (Marcello Silva) and Jacob (Orlando Christian) to advance their own interests. Tim is a former child star whose offers have begun to wane. No longer the family’s meal ticket, he’s cast aside by DeAnna. Meanwhile, after battling a near fatal childhood illness, Jacob has struck up a friendship with the world’s biggest pop star. DeAnna seizes the opportunity to rub elbows with pop royalty and accompanies Jacob and the star on expensive vacations and visits to his private estate. Jerry grows suspicious of the attention shown his son and presses Jacob on the particulars of the relationship. The family makes public accusations of abuse against the star and is left with millions of dollars in an out-of-court settlement — and irreparably damaged relationships.

As adults, Tim (Andrew Brian Carter) and Jacob (Wade F. Wilson) spend nearly 20 years estranged. Tim threatens to accuse Jacob of fabricating the allegations he made against the pop star, and after years of separation the two are unhappily reunited. The story oscillates between 1993, just before formal accusations by the Gamble family are made, and 2012, following the never-named pop star’s death.

Leif Gantvoort is outwardly sleazy as tabloid TV star, Vincent Hark. Marie-Francoise Theodore’s DeAnna is controlled and unsympathetic. Josh Randall is an overbearing, intimidating presence as Gerry. Wade F. Wilson’s Jacob is satisfactory if a bit generic. The same can be said for Andrew Brian Carter’s Tim. Ashley Platz is surprisingly empathetic as Erin, Jacob’s girlfriend with ulterior motives. Orlando Christian delivers the most authentic performance of the evening as Young Jacob.

Director Michael A. Shepperd finds clean transitions and keeps the tempo moving but the action is periodically over-staged. Video design by Shiloh Strong and Rider Strong clarifies the play’s shifts through time and evokes a 90’s nostalgia. Nicholas Acciani’s set design is spare and an intelligent use of the space. Michael Teoli’s original music is mostly knock-off versions of Jackson’s greatest hits. Costume design by Denise Barrett is clean and simple.

Never Ever Land has all the elements of an intensely dramatic story but never narrows its focus: Its most crucial and dramatic events are only referred to in conversation. None of the characters as written are especially likable or redeeming and the story’s most important character is never seen or heard. The accused remains comfortably anonymous while the victims are forced to live with silent acceptance. The truth remains obscured by greed and blinded by the prospect of fame. There are no heroes and no justice — only victims of a selfish kind of love.

studio/stage, 520 N. Western Ave., East Hollywood; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; through Oct. 27. theatreunleashed.org. Running time: two hours and 30 minutes with one 10-minute intermission.

Always Running

Reviewed by Dana Martin
CASA 0101 Theater and Tia Chucha’s Centro Cultural and Bookstore
Extended through November 24

RECOMMENDED

Poet Laureate of Los Angeles Luis J. Rodriguez believes that art holds the power of transformation. His new play Always Running, based on his 1993 memoir entitled Always Running: La Vida Loca: Gang Days in L.A., chronicles his fraught adolescence and highlights the Chicano civil rights movement in the 60s and 70s. Adapted for the stage by Luis J. Rodriguez and Hector Rodriguez, Always Running is a gem of a play with a story that must be told.

East Los Angeles, 1960s. Rival gangs Lomas and Sangra are at war with one another. Luis (Rufino Romero), a hard, drug-addicted teenager with suicidal tendencies, turns to the Lomas gang for a sense of community and inclusion. The story settles on the relationship between Luis and his mentor, Chente Ramirez (Joshua Nicholas), a neighborhood youth counselor.

Chente recognizes Luis’s artistic abilities and nurtures young Luis through encouragement and guidance, channeling his anger and defiance into productive expressions of art. When Luis has several relapses and is constantly in and out of jail, Chente remains supportive but is frustrated by the youth’s seemingly constant setbacks. Chente decides to propose a truce between the Lomas and rival gang Sangra — an agreement that would put an end to years of violence with a radical move toward peace. The men comply and sign the peace contract, only to become victims of police discrimination and brutality in a covert effort to perpetuate gang violence.

The play is told in a series of vignettes. Director/adapter Hector Rodriguez stages a clean production that depicts 60’s Chicano culture accurately and empathetically. The pace is at times slow, but the content is always engaging. Costume designer Abel Alvarado nails time and place and adds a vital part to the storytelling. Kam Ying Lee’s projection design personalizes the narrative through use of authentic neighborhood photographs. Marco De Leon’s set is sparse and functional. Sound designer Joe Luis Cedillo furnishes a killer soundtrack that adds much to the play’s tone and transitions.

The performances fall within a wide spectrum of experience and ability. Rufino Romero is superb as Luis J. Rodriguez. He swings freely between love and violence, rage and tenderness. Joshua Nicholas provides a solid foundation as Chente Ramirez. Rachel Lemos is strong and engaging as Viviana, Luis’s forbidden love interest. Alex Alpharaoh is both sinister and sympathetic as fellow gang member Puppet. Haylee Sanchez delivers solid support as Payasa and later as Luis’s doting wife Camila.

The Chicano Movement was a mostly non-violent social movement that sought equal rights for the Chicano community; it remains an important piece of American history. Always Running juxtaposes the difficulties encountered by the movement with the very personal struggles of Luis J. Rodriguez as a young man. It humanizes the young people who turn to gangs for a sense of inclusion and protection — those youngsters within communities ravaged by poverty, gang violence, drug abuse and police brutality.

Always Running is ultimately a story about hope, change and the transformative power of imagination. It’s also a call for more Chicano stories to be told, and for more Chicano literature to be incorporated into school curriculum. The time is now.

¡Sí se puede!

CASA 0101 Theater, 2102 E. 1^st St., Boyle Heights; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat., 2 p.m. (Sep. 7, 14 & 21 only); Sun., 5 p.m.; no performances Sep. 27-29 & Nov. 1-3; extended through Nov. 24. (323) 263-7684 or casa0101.org. Running time: two hours with one 10-minute intermission.

The Color Purple

Reviewed by Dana Martin
Greenway Arts Alliance at Greenway Court Theatre
Extended through December 30

RECOMMENDED

The Color Purple, a musical adaptation of Alice Walker’s 1983 Pulitzer Prize winning novel, is making joyful noise at The Greenway Court Theatre. With a book by Marsha Norman and a score by Brenda Russell, Allee Willis and Stephen Bray, The Color Purple proves that love finds a way and it’s too beautiful for words.

Celie (Gabrielle Jackson), a young black woman in the rural South, is only 14 years old when she gives birth in church. It’s her second, a boy this time, sired by her own father (Otis Easter). Shortly thereafter, Celie’s forced into an abusive marriage with the philandering Mister (Aaron Braxton). Celie’s younger sister Nettie (Elizabeth Adabale) comes to live with them but is thrown out after Mister tries to rape her. Mister’s son Harpo (Jeremy Whatley) marries the formidable Sofia (Dominique Kent). When Harpo beats Sofia, she responds by leaving him, but not before imploring Celie to leave her abusive husband. Sensuous and soulful jazz singer Shug Avery (April Nixon) arrives on the scene, drawing everyone’s affections, including Celie. The two form a romantic relationship. Shug delivers Celie a familiar message: leave. And Celie does leave Mister, just after she curses him. She finds her voice and goes her own way.

Gabrielle Jackson shines as Celie. She’s immediately lovable and radiates warmth. She handles the enormity of the role with ease and grace and brings down the house in her final declaration “I’m Here.” Aaron Braxton finds a decent arc as antagonist Mister as he moves from abusive to remorseful. Dominique Kent, a one-woman powerhouse as Sofia, refuses to be defeated. Her grand and haughty “Hell No” is one of the musical’s many highlights. April Nixon’s Shug Avery is a seductive heartbreaker. Church ladies Lynette DuPree, Carol Dennis, Mariah Strickland and Jacquelin Schofield are sass and soul in equal measure and support the show’s overall powerful sound, finding tight harmonies. Rachel Sarah Mount delights as Squeak.

What the script loses in terms of the novel’s richness and poetry is found in the musical’s soulful score, which features many styles of music, including R&B, honky tonk, gospel and jazz. Musical director/conductor Patrick Gandy has worked wonders with an already outstanding ensemble of singers. The music is energetic and precise. Director/choreographer Jeffery Polk organizes the staging well, keeps the pace tight and creates lively choreography. Sound designer Julie Ferrin slightly misses the mark as the band sometimes overpowers the singers. Dana Rebecca Woods’ costume design is detailed and attractive.

The Color Purple preaches courage, love, redemption. The female characters radically challenge societal norms. They demand respect and help each other stand up to violence, racism, poverty and oppression. The message is enduring and immediately clear. Greenway Arts Alliance is presenting The Color Purple to over 600 high school students throughout the coming month as part of a larger literary program that explores Ms. Walker’s novel.

Look what God has done.

Greenway Court Theatre, 544 N. Fairfax Ave., West Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m., except Dec. 14-15 & 22; Sun., 4 p.m., except Dec. 16; extended through Dec. 30. (323) 673-0544 or GreenwayCourtTheatre.org. Running time: three hours with one intermission.