Well-Behaved Women

Reviewed by V Cate
Ophelia’s Jump
Through March 12

The title of the play evokes the oft-used quote, “Well-behaved women seldom make history” (Laurel Thatcher Ulrich), reminding us that the traditional femme roles of reservation, subservience, and amenability rarely ensure remembrance. Of course, this carries the implication that the gendered act of conforming to patriarchal expectations is a weakness in women, ignoring the evidence that acting outside of constricted societal roles doesn’t elicit serious consequences. Women have paid, and continue to pay, with their reputations, their social standing, lack of opportunity at work, unfair burden of responsibility at home, disparate wages, challenges in receiving medical care, and violence.

In a Billboard interview, writer Carmel Dean amends the phrase, preferring, “Well- behaved women are not what they seem”.

Dean’s song cycle gives voice to notable women throughout history and mythology. A small ensemble of five actresses perform more than a dozen songs, musically monologuing through their experiences. While touching at times on women from other parts of the world, the work feels very American-centric, with songs about the Statue of Liberty, women of the Supreme Court, and even Neil Armstrong’s wife. And by opening the show with a song about Eve (as in Eve of Original Sin) and giving focus to Mary Magdalene, the show’s voice is more Judeo-Christian than universal. (Mary Magdalene’s song is a highlight of the show, as it is one of the only songs in the repertoire with a unique attitude and musicality.)

Well-Behaved Women is composer Dean’s first foray into writing song lyrics. Her sound is totally contemporary in terms of musical theater, but the words themselves are simple, lacking charge or poetry. And while most of Dean’s songs feel more like a book report or journal entry than anything particularly revelatory, the ensemble of women represented is a good inspiration for looking into feminist figures in general. Beatrice Casagran’s direction is sparse — this show’s original production had singers perform into a microphone with a music stand — so most of the songs are performed in relative stillness. The most interesting moments work in tandem with Sheila Malone’s imaginative projection design.

Overall, the show is not groundbreaking, but perhaps a production devoted to women taking the stage is enough of a noble purpose. Ophelia’s Jump has placed an emphasis on amplification of diverse voices, and the sweet creative team of Well-Behaved Women has crafted a celebration of feminine figures that warrants an evening of theater.

Ophelia’s Jump Mainstage, 2009 Porterfield Way, Ste. H, Upland; Thurs., Feb. 23 only, 7:30 pm; Fri., 8 pm; Sat., 3 pm & 8 pm (exception: Sat., Mar. 4, 2:30 pm matinée); Sun., 4 pm; through Mar. 12. (909) 734-6565 or www.opheliasjump.org. Running time: 80 minutes with one intermission.

The First Deep Breath

Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Geffen Playhouse
Through March 5

There are moments in Lee Edward Colston II’s family melodrama where one or another of the characters reflect on human behavior in an eloquent and/or meaningful way. These are moving moments when, watching intently, you think to yourself: I know so well what that person is talking about, and it is so very true. Such interludes, however, are too infrequently found in this sprawling ambitious work, whose text might benefit from pruning and whose current staging at Geffen Playhouse features missteps in casting, design and performance that undercut the play’s strengths.

Clocking in at four hours plus on press night (including two intermissions), the story is set in the playwright’s hometown of Philadelphia, in the well-appointed home (scenic design, Michael Carnahan) of Pastor Albert Melvin Jones III (Herb Newsome) and his family. The pastor, a well-respected and charismatic figure in the community, is nonetheless a grieving man, still mourning the death of one of his daughters in a car accident six years prior. His wife Ruth (Ella Joyce), whom he loves dearly, is afflicted with Alzheimer’s, while his eldest son — christened Albert Jr. but now going by his adopted name Abdul-Malik — has been in jail for rape, and is only newly released at the narrative’s launch.

Every member of this household has a secret, including the pastor’s surviving daughter Dee Dee (Candace Thomas), who works as a prison guard, and his sister-in-law Pearl (Deanna Reed-Foster) who has given up any life of her own to care for her ailing sibling Ruth and to otherwise hold the household together with her cooking and other chores.

The pivotal character in the story is Abdul-Malik, who has major problems with his dad — not surprising, as Pastor Albert continually belittles both him and his younger brother AJ (Opa Adeyemo), cruelly and at every opportunity. Though he’s kinder to Dee Dee, she too struggles for self-respect, convinced that her father never really sees her, or if so, only as a pale imitation of her dead twin.

The consequences of this toxic parenting — it’s suggested that Ruth, pre-dementia, was part of it too — are the fount of a complicated and ultimately explosive narrative. This works — the oppressive patriarch is a time-honored dramatic wellspring, after all. The problem is that on top of this axis of conflict are a host of other issues and plot points: homophobia, alcoholism, racism, the struggle of women to be their own person, financial corruption, hypocrisy within the Church and the unrequited passion of one individual for another. It’s as if playwright Colson found it hard to leave anything out.

The end result of this surfeit of stories is to dilute the power of a single one or two of them. And while there are gripping sequences, there are also other decidedly undramatic stretches — a game of cards, a holiday meal — that might easily be cut or abbreviated without sacrificing any dramatic tension.

The production, under the direction of Steve H. Broadnax III (who also directed the 2019 premiere in Chicago, where it was much celebrated) has other problems. The evening I attended, some performances were strong and vital, others not so much. As the salty, nurturing Pearl (a role she’s reprising from Chicago), Reed-Foster was a gusty standout. Adeyemo, as a youngster who dare not share his dreams with his macho dad, kept intense compelling focus throughout the story. Keith A. Wallace, who plays Malik’s longtime friend and stand-in big brother to AJ in his absence, delivers a fine performance as an honest friend; he has some of the play’s best lines, seeming to act as the playwright’s voice. Brandon Mendez Homer, as Dee Dee’s fiancé, was likewise empathetic as a good guy looking to win his lady love away from the madness. Tentative at the start, Joyce’s Ruth evolved to a point of stature when she morphs from her demented state to a clarity that startles every character — and audience member — in listening distance.

But some of the most essential performances feel off. Thomas (who struck me as miscast) needed a lot more vulnerability and naturalness in her Dee Dee. As the beleaguered ex-felon, craving his family’s love and acceptance, Colston radiated a deer-in-the-headlights aura — which is fine, but I wanted more breadth and color for this complicated character, who has made a disturbing choice. The same went for Newsome, potentially a good fit for the autocratic pastor, and yes, doing an OK job, but not yet living and breathing the role. (The actor originally was cast as understudy, stepping in recently when the original cast member became unavailable, so timing may be a mitigating factor, for him and for the production as a whole.)

Meanwhile, the set is beautifully detailed and visually arresting, especially the impressive staircase that dominates the middle of the stage. As spectacle, it’s great to study and appreciate before the play begins. The problem is, this edifice — along with dining room and living room furniture and what not — takes up so much space that the actors are constrained to move. More than that, despite the strategic placement of family photos, it doesn’t really look like a place that people live in — a big minus in a story about family, even if it’s a dysfunctional one.

Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood; Tues.-Fri., 7:30 pm; Sat.-Sun., 1 pm & 7 pm; through Mar. 5. (310) 208-2028 or www.geffenplayhouse.org. Running time: four hours and 10 minutes with two intermissions.

Nimrod

Reviewed by Terry Morgan
Theatre of NOTE
Through March 19

The Trump administration was noted for an almost Shakespearian level of hubris, and the world is still waiting with bated breath for the comeuppance we’ve always been told follows such behavior. Life always models itself after literature, right? For those of us who can’t wait for reality to accord with fiction, playwright Phinneas Kiyomura has crafted Nimrod, a most tragical comedy in which these matters are finally resolved. The world premiere of the play at Theatre of NOTE features a bravura turn by Kirsten Vangsness as the Orange One, and a talented ensemble, but although it’s amusing it doesn’t ultimately seem to have much of import to say.

First Lady Lani (Hiwa Chow Elms) can’t wait for the first term of her husband, President Nimrod (Vangsness) to be over. She thinks he won’t run for a second term, so she can be with her bodyguard lover, Carver (Edward Moravcsik), and get a nice payday by divorcing her hubby. Unfortunately, advisors such as the slovenly but clever Blandon (Sarah Lilly) and the old drunkard Ghouliardi (Sierra Marcks) have no intention of letting it be a one-term presidency. Meanwhile, rebels from the opposition party such as tough older lady Fairfellow (Joel Scher) are trying to make sure that there is no possibility of Nimrod being re-elected by killing him first.

Elms does a nice job of showing Lani’s conflicting motives of love and greed and maternal concern, and a scene in which she puts on the “Melania” persona for an interview is quite humorous, but as written we never actually feel any real emotions for the character’s dilemma. Moravcsik is convincing as the earnest Carver and Asha Noel Iyer is quite good as her damaged son, Dukie. Lilly, Marcks and Scher all have great fun with their broad, scheming characters, but Lilly manages to be chilling as well. Finally, Vangsness is inspired as Nimrod, channeling his supreme narcissism and brute cunning in a hilarious performance.

Director Alina Phelan keeps things moving with energetic pacing, and her staging is a marvel of efficiency, keeping 15 actors in frequent motion on the tiny NOTE stage. Kiyomura has added to the challenge of the piece by writing it in Shakespearian verse, but although this is ambitious it doesn’t entirely work or make the show stronger. Nimrod succeeds more as a clever goof than as a meaningful play, and gags such as removing prepositions in much of Nimrod’s dialogue (“Go bed!”) or scenes such as Nimrod and a Putin-substitute communicating via ridiculous sign language are genuinely funny. So there may not be new political insights or serious moral lessons to learn here, but Nimrod is certainly an entertaining sendup of the not-missed Trump years.

Theatre of NOTE, 1517 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood; Thurs.-Sat., 8 pm; Sun., 2 pm; through Mar. 19. (323) 856-8611 or www.theatreofnote.com. Running time: two hours and 10 minutes with an intermission.

Ride the Cyclone

Reviewed by Katie Buenneke
Chance Theater
Through February 26

“Lip sync for your life!” RuPaul tells contestants every week on Drag Race. Ride the Cyclone, now making its California premiere at Chance Theater in Anaheim, makes a similar proclamation, impelling six dead teenagers to sing for a chance to leave the show’s carnival purgatory and survive the accident that killed them.

The story (book, music and lyrics by Brooke Maxwell and Jacob Richmond) introduces the audience to The Amazing Karnak (Robert Foran), our narrator and an animatronic fortune teller in the vein of Zoltar from Big. Karnak explains that a group of five high schoolers rode the Cyclone rollercoaster at a Canadian amusement park, and the coaster failed, causing their deaths. Karnak offers them the chance to return to life if they provide a compelling enough reason for it. Because this is a musical, the teens interpret this as a chance to plead their case via song, offering self-contained supplications to survive.

Under Jocelyn A. Brown’s direction and Lex Leigh’s music direction, the ensemble is strong, but a few individuals shine particularly strongly. Em Flosi is a delight as the living embodiment of a creepy Victorian doll, a teen whose beheaded remains were found with those of the five students. Their impeccably-placed high notes pierce the heart. Foran’s full-voiced Karnak is a captivating narrator, unsettlingly stilted in his physicality. And Rose Pell brings the house down as Constance in the 11 o’clock number “Jawbreaker/Sugar Cloud.”

The technical aspects of the show are strong across the board. The costumes, by Bradley Allen Lock, are plentiful and narratively layered. Nick Santiago’s projection design is so integrated into the narrative that it might as well be the show’s eighth character. Masako Tobaru’s lighting design works in concert with Antonio Beach and Bradley Kaye’s scenic design to create the off-kilter world of the show.

Given the capable team assembled, what keeps Ride the Cyclone from shifting into higher gear is the show itself. It’s quite good in fits and spurts but drags as a whole. The songs feel more like pastiches than truly original compositions, and during numbers like “Noel’s Lament” I couldn’t help but yearn to see Wyatt Hatfield, who plays Noel, as the Emcee (or perhaps Sally Bowles) from Cabaret rather than this pale imitation.

Still, this production of Ride the Cyclone is worth seeing if you’ll already be in the Anaheim area, or if you want to check out a semi-viral sensation (I confess, it hadn’t made it to my corners of the internet, but it has a very dedicated online fan base).

Chance Theater, 5522 E. La Palma Ave., Anaheim; Thurs., 7:30 pm; Fri., 8pm; Sat., 3 pm & 8 pm; Sun., 3 pm; through Feb. 26. (888) 455-4212 or chancetheater.com. Running time: 95 minutes with no intermission.

Selling Kabul

Reviewed by F. Kathleen Foley
Ensemble Theatre Company at the New Vic
Through February 19

From the fall of Saigon to the abandonment of the Kurds in Northern Syria, the U.S. has a dismal track record when it comes to the treatment of allies in war zones.

Sylvia Khoury’s Pulitzer-finalist play, Selling Kabul, now being presented by the Ensemble Theatre Company at the New Vic in Santa Barbara, centers around the plight of Taroon (Rishan Dhamija), an Afghan who, to his own detriment, has aligned himself with the Americans in his country. The action is set in 2013, when the American military presence in Afghanistan has been greatly reduced. Taroon, a translator, has been abandoned by his American “friends” and marked for death by the Taliban. Meanwhile, the promised exit visas for himself and his family have never arrived, nor are they likely to.

For the last four months, Taroon has been in hiding at his sister Afiya’s (Nitya Vidyasagar) apartment. To further complicate matters, Taroon’s pregnant wife has just given birth.

Afiya and her husband, Jawid (Beejan Land), have supported themselves making uniforms for the Taliban, which accounts for their relative prosperity in a time of such economic hardship. But if Jawid thinks that his cozy interactions with the Taliban will protect his family, he may have sadly underestimated the growing brutality of the oppressors. Meanwhile, Afiya’s neighbor Leyla (Christine Mirzayan) drops by at inopportune moments for tea and a chat, while Taroon sequesters in the closet.

Of course, the function of any drama is to build in intensity, and Kabul has more suspense than a Hitchcock retrospective. However, glaring problems crop up. Taroon’s insistence on visiting his wife and newborn son in the hospital, despite the fact that such a visit would doom not only him but his entire family, seems so appallingly reckless that it alienates us from his character — a psychological divide from which we never quite recover.

Frustrating, also, is the playwright’s occasional slip into the overly dramatic — a misstep that could have been partially redressed had director Nike Doukas kept the performances scrupulously naturalistic, the kind of underplayed interchanges that are almost tossed away. Instead, she allows certain actors to veer into the overblown and declamatory, while letting others swallow their lines at the expense of crucial plot points.

Despite its flaws, Selling Kabul is ultimately as deeply moving as it is harrowing. An edge-of-your seat thrill ride into the depressingly here-and-now, it’s a clarion warning for those who believe that such a dystopian hellscape, contrived by religious extremists, can’t happen here.

Ensemble Theatre Company at the New Vic, 33 W. Victoria St., Santa Barbara; Wed.–Thurs., 7:30 pm; Fri.–Sat., 8 pm; Sun., 2 pm (added performance Sat., Feb. 11, 4 pm); through Feb. 19. (805) 965-5400 or www.etcsb.org. Running time: 1 hour and 40 minutes with no intermission.

Not/Now

Reviewed by Taylor Kass
Write Act Repertory
Through March 5

It’s every millennial’s worst nightmare — one tiny text typo and an entire friend group throws a surprise party for their bestie who they thought was now engaged, but who is very much not engaged. In Not/Now’s world-premiere production at Write Act Repertory, playwright Darrin Yalacki and director Amanda Blake Davis examine a dysfunctional yet hilarious friend group and peel back their layers of self-protective snark.

Goldie (Karen Baughn) is returning to her hometown of Chicago from sunny Los Angeles, but her life isn’t as perfect as her Instagram profile makes it seem. She’s just been dumped by her boyfriend (the latest in a serial-monogamist’s string of boyfriends) and is looking to her oldest friends for comfort — but they’re not so willing to let her get away with her self-sabotaging antics. Karen Baughn’s improv chops are firing on all cylinders as she portrays Goldie, the kind of girl who screams “Yasss queen!” at the gay bar and cries her fake eyelashes off after a long night. She’s undeniably the life of the party (even this disastrous one). However, Baughn shines so bright that the rest of the cast can’t quite match her attention-grabbing characterization. At times, the energy of the ensemble feel off-kilter, taking the air out of the pacing just as the play should get to its zaniest fever pitch moments.

As the friends consume more and more “gay water” (vodka and lemon-lime soda), the night
devolves into squabbles, past grievances are brought up, and a blindingly hot “exotic dancer” (Mason Eaglin) shows up. Tightly-wound Tamela (Rachel Lemos) lets it slip that she has started going to therapy, after previously denouncing every therapy participant as selfish and prone to proselytizing. Ten years post-grad, this friend group brandishes their self-awareness like a weapon, daring each other to point out flaws that they haven’t already found. Not/Now unveils the insecurities that lie underneath the carefully curated images of each of its characters, but the play ultimately balks at a truly friendship-ending confrontation. But maybe now is not the time to throw away friendships, even if they change.

The Brickhouse Theatre, 10950 Peach Grove St., North Hollywood; Sat., 8 pm; Sun., 3 pm; through Mar. 5. https://www.simpletix.com/e/not-now-tickets-122901. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

Staged

Reviewed by Dana Martin
Laguna Playhouse
Through February 25

Not every new work is stage worthy. Laguna Playhouse’s new comedy Staged by Martin Bergman and Rita Rudner finds charm in fits and spurts but the world-premiere production is clunky and underwhelming.

Fenella Fennington (Rudner) and Jarvis Haverly (Mike McShane) are a star-studded couple in a stormy marriage that ends in very public disaster. They take turns airing each other’s dirty laundry during a performance of Antony and Cleopatra in which they play the title roles. Jarvis refuses in dramatic fashion to continue working with Fenella, who has recently filed for divorce after discovering Jarvis’s infidelity with Katya (Annie Abrams), a much younger member of the chorus. The production is cancelled and the two are estranged.

Cut to 20 years later: Broadway producer Ezra Pechter (Brian Michael Jones) approaches Fenella and guilts her into starring in a new play, Two on a Bench, claiming that his father had produced the ill-fated Antony and Cleopatra fiasco, leaving him in financial ruin. Fenella agrees despite her claim that the script “needs some work” and her dream of Broadway stardom is re-born (if short-lived). Trouble is, Ezra also hires Jarvis to star in the production opposite Fenella and the two are reluctantly reunited. What follows is the former couple navigating the twists and turns of a terrible script, a messy rehearsal process and a 20 year–long grudge.

The play behaves and moves like an old-school sitcom, with the characters crafted in broad strokes. Both Fenella and Jarvis are vapid, self-absorbed narcissists who aren’t interested in anyone but themselves. There’s no learning, growing or changing happening with these two. The play’s scenic transitions are punctuated by podcast host Barry Broadway (Brian Lohmann), who is dedicated to Broadway gossip and incorrectly sensationalizes details of the pair’s ill-fated reunion (one of the more interesting aspects of the story).

Rita Rudner focuses on Fenella’s vocal quality rather than the character’s inner life, resulting in a performance that’s stiff and inauthentic. Mike McShane’s Jarvis is all posturing and panache. Brian Michael Jones’s Ezra is the play’s axis and manages to deftly deliver a majority of the play’s plot twists. Brian Lohmann plays several farcical characters throughout the evening, including Fenella’s hippie boyfriend Bill and Broadway gossip Barry. Kelly Holden Bashar holds her own as no-nonsense stage manager Gerry.

Martin Bergman’s direction focuses primarily on presentation, with little attention to nuance. Nita Mendoza’s lighting design is generic and overuses blackouts. Costumes, coordinated by Stacey Nezda, are a mixed bag; some of them are finely appointed while others are ill-fitting. The cheap wigs — used to differentiate between characters as well as mark the passage of time — are another liability; it’s not clear whether or not they’re meant to be a joke. Stephen Gifford’s scenic design is well-suited to the story and helps anchor the world of the play.

Staged is a thinly veiled vehicle for the power couple Bergman and Rudner to work together. Great for them, but this production is a miss.

Laguna Playhouse, 606 Laguna Canyon Rd., Laguna Beach; Wed.–Fri., 7:30 pm.; Sat., 2 pm & 7:30 pm; Sun., 1 pm & 5:30 pm (no 5:30 performance Feb. 15); through Feb. 25. (949) 497-2787 or lagunaplayhouse.com. Running time: 90 minutes with one 15-minute intermission.