Stage Raw

Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike

Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike

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Amanda Karr as Sonia, Mark Piatelli (Photo by Miguel Eliot Photography)
Amanda Karr as Sonia, Mark Piatelli (Photo by Miguel Eliot Photography)

Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike

Reviewed by G. Bruce Smith
Little Fish Theatre
Through September 3

RECOMMENDED

You don’t have to be familiar with Chekhov’s plays to enjoy the latest offering by Little Fish Theatre in San Pedro —Christopher Durang’s sometimes-zany, sometimes-absurdist, and often-funny Tony award-winning comedy, Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike. Still, your enjoyment will likely be enhanced if you are at least somewhat familiar with the Russian playwright’s work.

Durang cherry picks (pun intended) lines or themes from such Chekhov masterpieces as The Cherry Orchard, Uncle Vanya and The Seagull. His Vanya (Mark Piatelli) and Sonia (Amanda Karr) are siblings in their 50s who lead a life of ennui in contemporary Bucks County, Pa, after having cared for their ailing parents for 25 years. Vanya laments that it is “our cross to bear” that their parents, both professors, named their offspring after characters in Chekhov‘s plays.

Masha (Annie Vest), a successful and insecure middle-aged actor, comes to visit her siblings with hunky boy toy Spike (Nathaniel Weiss) in tow. She has financially supported her out-of-work siblings for years but now has designs to sell the house, much to the chagrin of Vanya and Sonia

Also in the mix are two other characters — housekeeper Cassandra (Susie McCarthy), a psychic who is constantly — and over-the-top dramatically — warning of dangers (often correctly), and Nina (Blair Elise), a young, idealistic wannabe actor enthralled by Masha but nonetheless seen by her as a threat to her romance with Spike.

The heart of the play is the conflict between the siblings, most particularly Sonia and Masha. Sonia has long resented being ignored by, and in the shadow of, her famous sister, while Masha would rather not be around her glum siblings.

There are plenty of funny lines in Vanya; and it’s also entertaining to observe where the action takes its characters (though a good 20 minutes could be cut from the script).

The actors are all excellent and have great fun breathing life into their characters. Piatelli captures the gentleness and peacemaking qualities of Vanya beautifully. We see him most passionate in a long and nostalgic monologue in which he laments the loss of “shared national TV shows” such as I Love Lucy and Ozzie and Harriet. But, as well done as the monologue is, it’s a bit puzzling because it feels as if it came out of nowhere.

Karr shines as Sonia, particularly when doing an impression of Maggie Smith. The play’s most touching moment is her part of a pivotal telephone call in which she captures a sweet vulnerability that we hadn’t seen before.

Although Masha is a stereotypically aging diva, Vest nevertheless portrays her with affection. And Weiss captures perfectly the equally clichéd pretty-but-dumb actor who almost got cast in Entourage 2.

Director Cylan Brown makes good use of a spacious set in his staging of the actors. As a set designer with an eye for detail, Minolae Jain creates a scenic composition that feels authentic as a typically middle-class home in Bucks County.

And that home is inhabited by a pair of siblings who lament they’ve never really lived but who, by the end, declare “There’s always hope.”

Little Fish Theatre, 777 S. Centre St., San Pedro. Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 2 p.m. Through Sept. 3. littlefishtheatre.org or call (310) 512-6030. Running time: 2 hours and 30 minutes with a 15-minute intermission.

 

 

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

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Jacqueline Misaye and Carene Rose Mekertichyan (Photo by Gretel Cortes Photography)
Jacqueline Misaye and Carene Rose Mekertichyan (Photo by Gretel Cortes Photography)

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Reviewed by Taylor Kass
Independent Shakespeare Company
Through September 3

RECOMMENDED

Anything can happen in the woods. In Shakespeare’s iconic comedy A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Hermia (Justine Faith) and Lysander (Patrick Batiste Jr.) are head over heels in love, but her father orders her to marry Demitrius (Kelvin Morales) instead. Hermia and Lysander plan to elope and flee Athens, but Hermia’s best friend Helena (Noriani Estevez), who is hopelessly in love with Demitrius, alerts him of their plan. The four lovers, along with a troupe of amateur actors rehearsing a play, find themselves lost in the woods — and in the middle of a feud between fairy king Oberon (David Melville) and fairy queen Titania (Sabra Williams). Mischievous fairy magic ensues. In the second offering in their free summer Shakespeare festival, Independent Shakespeare Company offers a fun and accessible Midsummer anchored by solid comedic performances.

William Elsman’s charmingly brash Bottom, who leads the troupe of amateur actors preparing a play for the wedding of Duke Theseus (Melville in a dual role) and Hippolyta (Williams in a dual role), is even funnier when contrasted with his performance as straightlaced senator Brutus in ISC’s production of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar earlier this summer. It’s a treat to see the ISC company of actors show off their comedic chops after pulling off a formidable political drama. Other standouts from the cast include Jacqueline Misaye as an adorably naughty Puck and Batiste as Lysander (who also lends his impressive vocal chops to a live band at intermission).

Director Melissa Chalsma brushes over the sexier and darker themes in A Midsummer Night’s Dream in favor of highlighting the play’s lighthearted, joyous humor. But apart from a few fun musical interludes and a pair of bell-bottoms or two, the 1970s Studio 54 production design isn’t quite strong enough to connect to the play’s themes. The fairies’ otherworldly costumes don’t quite match the 1970s vibe either, although their alien-like aesthetic and odd mannerisms are delightfully weird. Aesthetics aside, ISC delivers when it counts — well-acted, creative Shakespeare for all Angelenos.

The Old Zoo at Griffith Park, main lawn, 4801 Griffith Park Dr., Los Feliz; Wed. – Sun. 7 p.m.; through July 30. www.iscla.org. Running time: 2 hours and 55 minutes with one 25-minute intermissi 

 

 

A View from The Bridge

A View from The Bridge

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Aurora Leonard and Ray Abruzzo
Aurora Leonard and Ray Abruzzo

A View from The Bridge

Reviewed by Martίn Hernández
Ruskin Theatre
Through October 8

RECOMMENDED

In the early 1950s, playwright Arthur Miller and his friend Elia Kazan pitched Miller’s dockworker-based screenplay The Hook, with Kazan as the proposed director, to Columbia Pictures’ boss Harry Cohn. When Cohn – and the FBI – wanted to change the corrupt union villains from Mafia thugs to Communist ones, Miller pulled out and the movie was scrapped. Later, during the anti-communist witch hunts conducted by the U.S. Congress, Kazan “named names” of suspected communists and fellow travelers, many of whom were blacklisted for years. Miller refused to do the same and was charged with contempt of Congress, but the charge was dismissed on appeal. Their friendship was shattered, and while they eventually reconciled, Miller and Kazan were never as close again.  

From this jumble of events arose Miller’s timeless 1956 tragedy exploring the bleak consequences of patriarchy, betrayal, and the U.S. government — themes vigorously explored in director Mike Reilly’s taut production. As usual, underlying Miller’s work is a forceful critique of capitalism, this time on a global scale, as undocumented immigrant characters flee their poor and exploited country for a better life in the U.S.A., only to learn that the scramble to survive here is more vicious than the one back home. Sound familiar?

Opening the play and serving as its narrator is local attorney Alfieri (Sal Viscuso), who introduces us to Eddie Carbone (a remarkable Ray Abruzzo), an Italian American longshoreman living in 1950s Red Hook, a working-class section of Brooklyn. Alfieri describes the docks where Eddie works as “the gullet of New York, swallowing the tonnage of the world.” It’s a dehumanizing arena that can flay Eddie’s body and soul, but he finds comfort in his devoted wife Beatrice (Kim Chase) and his loving niece Catherine (Aurora Leonard), the child of Beatrice’s late sister.

His meager home is his castle, his throne a worn-out chair, and his family the subjects of his benign monarchy. Eddie and Beatrice have raised Catherine since she was a kid, and Eddie still treats her like one, despite her being seventeen. Catherine innocently encourages his behavior and dotes on Eddie as a father figure. But underneath his paternal affection for Catherine are confusing passions that Beatrice hesitantly begins to interpret as the possible cause for Eddie’s emotional distancing from her.

With Italy’s post-World War II economy still in a shambles, Beatrice’s undocumented immigrant cousins, Marco (Jesse Janzen) and Rodolpho (Brandon Lill), are smuggled in by traffickers, and Eddie finds them work unloading cargo. He and his family welcome the brothers with open arms but also warn them to lay low so as not to attract immigration officials or their snitches. While the more serious Marco is married with a family back home, fun-loving Rodolpho is single, and soon he and Catherine are smitten with each other. Agitated over the budding romance and in denial over his unnatural emotions, Eddie desperately tries to keep Catherine under his irrational control.

Abruzzo’s Eddie and Chase’s Beatrice make for a poignant couple, facing emotions they have long concealed and getting tangled up as they try to convey them. Abruzzo is a quintessential Eddie, whose lament of “I want my respect,” has a special meaning coming from a working stiff who feels his goodwill is being abused. Chase emotes, with eyes and facial expressions, the wearied love of many a put-upon spouse. Leonard is a fragile Catherine, initially puzzled by Eddie’s strange actions towards her but eventually discovering the strength to confront them.

In his scenes with Abruzzo, Viscuso delivers his lines with an emotional vigor that is mostly lacking in his narration as the Greek Chorus. Despite their shaky accents, Lill and Janzen deliver commendable performances as Eddie’s unassuming enemies, especially Janzen in key moments with Eddie. And Lill’s amazing voice adds to the credibility of Catherine as she’s swayed by Rodolpho’s serenades. 

Designer Stephanie Kerley Schwartz’ set, with horizontal wooden planks for walls and a combination living and dining room upstage and streetlight and a stoop downstage, emphasize the claustrophobic nature of the Carbones’ apartment as well as their neighborhood.

Ruskin Theater Group, 3000 Airport Ave., Santa Monica. Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 2 pm; thru Oct. 8. Running time:  two hours with an intermission. http://www.ruskingrouptheatre.com

 

Heroes of the Fourth Turning

Heroes of the Fourth Turning

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Evangeline Edwards, Samuel Garnett and Stephen Tyler Howell (Photo by John Perrin Flynn)
Evangeline Edwards, Samuel Garnett and Stephen Tyler Howell (Photo by John Perrin Flynn)

Heroes of the Fourth Turning

Reviewed by Katie Buenneke
Rogue Machine
Through October 2

RECOMMENDED

It’s probably fair to generalize that most theater audiences, particularly audiences in Los Angeles, skew towards the stereotype of “coastal liberals.” Given this, it seems unlikely that the theatergoing public would want to watch Heroes of the Fourth Turning, a play set in rural Wyoming, that sympathetically depicts right-wing millennials. And yet it is necessary viewing — a tour de force of writing, direction, and acting.

The play, by Will Arbery (who notes in the program that he was raised by Catholic conservative parents), is set in a college town in 2017, i.e. after Trump was inaugurated but before Roe v. Wade was repealed. Four alumni of the fictional Transfiguration College of Wyoming are in town for the inauguration of the school’s new president. Each of the four represents a Catholic and/or conservative archetype: Emily (Emily James), the sweet, good Christian girl; Justin (Stephen Tyler Howell), the laconic, open-carrying strong man; Teresa (Evangeline Edwards), the Tomi Lahren-esque firebrand; and Kevin (Samuel Garnett), who perpetually feels guilty.

Teresa is determined to grandstand and impress Emily’s mom, Gina (Roxanne Hart), who is the school’s new president. Emily, who has an unnamed health condition that causes her recurring, severe pain, is happy to be in the company of her friends, but also just wants to get through the night and go home. Justin, in whose backyard we’re sitting, is a man who does not act on desires. And Kevin is having a few crises: of faith, of sobriety, and of self-knowledge.

These characters are not one-dimensional, cartoonish villains; they are knowable, intellectual people, humans whose counterparts across the political aisle are likely in the audience, or perhaps are friends of those in the audience. Or maybe the characters exactly as written are people you might know if you grew up among Catholics and conservatives, as I did. As a writer, Arbery is remarkably skilled, not just at drawing distinct characters and voicing them realistically, but on a structural level as well.  The strengths of the play are underscored by the ensemble’s fine performances.

The play’s title refers to the Strauss-Howe generational theory, which Teresa explains to the other characters (and for the benefit of us in the audience) is the idea that a long human life is made up of four eras, or turnings: a high, like the Baby Boom in the 40s and 50s; an awakening, like the cultural revolutions of the 60s and 70s; an unraveling, like the path from Reaganomics in the 80s to the Great Recession in the 00s; and the fourth turning, a crisis, like the Great Depression in the 30s or the Obama administration (according to Republicans) or the Trump administration (according to Democrats).

As there are four eras, there are four archetypes, which align with generations. Those born during an unravelling — that is, the Millennials — are deemed “heroes.” Arbery doesn’t just explain this in a digestible way, he also echoes it in the characters, each of whom represents archetypes both of and distinct from the fourth turning.

But this is fundamentally a play about abortion. Gina tells the alumni towards the end that, “On the issue of life, Catholics are called to be single-issue voters” — implying that the ends justify the means, even if the means are Donald Trump, a man whom no one onstage wholeheartedly admires, even though they all unquestioningly voted for him. Earlier in the play, Teresa and Emily, who are both pro-choice activists, debate why someone might choose abortion, which Teresa is adamant is murdering a child. The debate over abortion seesaws over the unknowable answer to the question, “At what point does a clump of cells become a person?” Similarly, this play hinges on the question, “At what point does your enemy cease to be a person?” Teresa unshakably believes that an aborted fetus was murdered, but doesn’t view Jason, an ex-Marine and sharpshooter, as a murderer.  

The cast is phenomenal. As Teresa, Evangeline Edwards strikes a perfect balance between imperiousness and vulnerability. Emily James hits all the right notes as a young woman who is simultaneously saint-like and fed up with carrying every burden with a smile. Samuel Garnett skillfully plays a man teetering on the edge, moments away from falling to an unknown fate. Roxanne Hart is commanding as Dr. Presson, a stalwart from an earlier era of conservatism. And Stephen Tyler Howell plays Justin adeptly, but seems to be straining to pitch his voice lower, undercutting some of the authority his character should naturally command.

As strong as the text is, it might easily have fallen into caricature. Guillermo Cienfuegos directs the production with a steady hand, guiding the ensemble so they hit each beat perfectly, without seeming over-rehearsed. As the audience, we feel like we are there, in Justin’s backyard, watching all this happen contemporaneously. It’s a tricky needle to thread, but Cienfuegos pulls it off, as if effortlessly.

Early in the play, Teresa tells Kevin, “I can help you think the thoughts but I can’t make you feel the feelings.” This play does exactly that, showing the audience the thoughts of the voters who elected Trump, challenging each viewer to find where they do and don’t agree with what they’re hearing. You get inside the brain of each character onstage— yet it’s not a play designed to brainwash. You think the thoughts, but do you feel the feelings? Perhaps that is yet another deeply personal, unknowable question.   

Rogue Machine at the Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Ave, Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 2 pm, Mon., 8 pm, through October 2.    https://www.roguemachinetheatre.org/. Running time: two hours with no intermission.

 

Proof

Proof

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Shawnee Badger and Vincent Doud (Photo courtesy of Dig Deep Theatre)
Shawnee Badger and Vincent Doud (Photo courtesy of Dig Deep Theatre)

Proof

Reviewed by Steven Leigh Morris
Dig Deep Theatre/Olive Branch Theatricals at The Main
Through August 20

RECOMMENDED

David Auburn’s 2000 drama, Proof, (originally produced by the Manhattan Theatre Club) received the Pulitzer Prize for Drama and Tony Award for Best Play in what must have been a very slow year. New plays that hurtle around the regional theaters come in trends, and among the favored topics of the early ‘naughts were plays about math and science, and mathematicians and scientists — in response, perhaps, to plays about family dysfunction, an earlier trend.

(The current trend would be works, play after play, glomming onto identity politics and social justice. It’s been said that this has contributed to the death spiral of regional theaters, but that’s probably an over-statement.)

Proof is a perfectly good play that provided a potent vehicle for Mary Louise-Parker in the U.S., and Gwyneth Paltrow in the UK. It is, however, something of a pretender — pretending to be about something it’s not: mathematics.

The pretense stems from a central character named Robert (Daniel T. McCann), who was/is a quasi-genius mathematician at the University of Chicago. He was, because he’s dead. He is because he shows up as a phantom and in a flashback. At issue is a mathematical proof he is purported to have written, late in life. This is odd because mathematical brilliance peaks when people are in their mid-20s, and this proof would have been created by Robert decades later. The other conundrum is the mental instability that accompanies such genius, particularly after the genius-factor evaporates with age, and all that’s left in its wake is a crazy person.

Enter Robert’s daughter, Catherine (Shawnee Badger), in her late 20s, living with her dad until his recent death. Catherine has a penchant for mathematics and, like her father, a tendency towards moody, anti-social eccentricity and emotional fragility. In many ways, this is a play about legacy — who is it that wrote the extraordinary mathematical equation found in one of Robert’s notebooks? After suggesting at first that it was Robert in late life, the play then teases out threads of evidence that it could, credibly, have been Catherine, as she tries to assert. Yet nobody, from Catherine’s sister Claire (Mabel Maultsby), visiting from New York to sell the family home out from under Catherine, to Robert’s former student Hal (Vincent Doud), also Catherine’s eventual lover, can believe that Catherine has the temperament or the intelligence to have come up with such a proof.

Is this because mathematics is a man’s game?

Set on a back porch near Chicago (set design by Phil and Nancy Lantis), Proof is a family drama centered on Catherine and her quest to be taken seriously in a world of disbelievers, who include an intimate partner. And therein lies its emotional power. Very simply: The lost child is egregiously underestimated. Does this make it a great play? Not even close. It’s a soap opera passing itself off as a work of mathematics, because of a few lines that reference how a mathematical proof is constructed. However, it’s a long, long way from Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia, a play that connects philosophy to human relations.

Still, because of this ensemble and James Castle Stevens’s direction, I was leaning forward in my seat the whole time. This inaugural effort of Dig Deep Theatre is extremely encouraging. Badger forges a Catherine who’s brittle and endearing in a fortress of her own making. The walls of that fortress crumble a bit in her romance with Hal, a connection fortified by Doud’s goofy sensitivity. As Catherine’s imperious sister, Claire, Maultsby delivers a know-it-all who’s marbled with insecurity — sort of like a torpedo that’s slightly off-course, knows it, and can’t do much about it. And McCann’s patriarch Robert is both grounded and lost, almost in the same breath.

Here’s hoping this company will return with more.      

Dig Deep Theatre/Olive Branch Theatricals at The Main, 24266 Main St., Santa Clarita; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm; Sat-Sun., 2 pm; thru Aug. 20. https://shorturl.at/lotw8 Running time: Two hours and 10 minutes with an intermission.

 

 

 

Twelfth Night: A Darkly Enchanting Burlesque Affair

Twelfth Night: A Darkly Enchanting Burlesque Affair

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Photo by lotta photo.kp
Photo by lotta photo.kp

Twelfth Night: A Darkly Enchanting Burlesque Affair

Reviewed by F. Kathleen Foley
Toil and Trouble Burlesque at The Three Clubs

Through August 26

RECOMMENDED

You may come out of Twelfth Night: A Darkly Enchanting Burlesque Affair feeling as if your head has been caught in a blender.

But it’s a good dizziness, the kind you get after exiting the highest velocity attraction at an amusement park. You may not know exactly what you have just seen, but you know you’ve had a wild ride.

Judging from its present production, an extremely loosey-goosey musical adaptation of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night at The Three Clubs in Hollywood, Toil and Trouble Burlesque is one of the more unusual theatrical companies you are likely to see on the local theater scene — and that’s putting it mildly.

If this present production is no exception, Toil and Trouble’s stock in trade is assembling a cast of talented and daring actors who are willing to bare all — well, practically all — in the service of Shakespeare. (In its seven years of existence, the company has also produced a couple of original plays.)

The evening opens with seasoned performer Amaya Absynthe doing a sinuous burlesque turn as an appreciative audience hoots its approbation.

The remainder of the cast is less seasoned when it comes to stripping and strutting. However, the actors all have amazing voices, and under the co-direction of Angie Hobin and James Ferrero, augmented by Ferrero and Jim Niedzialkowski’s excellent sound, all have their opportunities to individually shine. All are fearless when it comes to the slapstick requirements of this burlesque, mugging and gesticulating without constraint. And whatever their shapes or sizes, all are also fearless when it comes to divesting themselves of Jessica Jones’ colorful, fetish-inspired costumes. In fact, this show could be labeled a must-see tutorial in body positivity — an unexpectedly inspiring byproduct of the generalized raunchiness.

This wildly over-the-top adaptation takes Shakespeare’s gender-bending comedy and bends it into pretzel permutations. Plenty of same-sex osculation — occasionally mirrored by Jayne Hobin’s crucial large-screen video designs — gives us an indication of where the action is headed. At play’s end, Duke Orsino’s (Walt Gray) palpable disappointment upon learning that his young courtier Cesario (Kim Dalton) is actually the female Viola in disguise, puts the perfect punctuation point on this untrammeled entertainment, which reinvents the Bard for a new audience yet keeps true to his bawdy comical traditions.

Toil and Trouble Burlesque at The Three Clubs, 1123 Vine St., Hollywood. Sat., 8 p.m.: thru Aug. 26. https://www.eventbrite.com/e/twelfth-night-tickets-648521604577 Running time: two hours and 30 minutes, with one 30 minute intermission.

The Brisk Festival, LA

The Brisk Festival, LA

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Brisk Festival Edition III

Reviewed by Martín Hernández
Morgan Wixson Theatre
Through Sept. 9

This international theatre festival has winnowed hundreds of submissions down to 52 entries, all ten-minute one-act plays, 31 in English and 21 in Spanish. Audience members and a jury of industry professionals vote on the best plays, with awards and a cash prize presented to the finalist during the closing weekend.  While the festival normally offers an English program followed by a Spanish one — each consisting of six to eight plays — the night I attended both were in English. The shows I saw may not be the ones you do, but check the fest’s website for more info.

 The Orange program offered mostly underwhelming offerings, but a few shined through. Emily Brauer Rogers’ quirky “Edge,” directed by Nora Isabel Cross, has two women (Remy O’Brien and Marilyn Sanabria) get their car stuck on a cliff as their Thelma and Louise-style suicide attempt goes awry. Given a second chance, they debate the rationale of continuing with their mission, each giving odd but cogent reasons on both sides. “Joy Ride,” by Christine Foster and directed by Todd Felderstein, portrays a sensible daughter (Sandra Valladares) and her estranged New Age mother (Pamela Heffler) as they  disburse the ashes of the family patriarch in an unconventional manner. Despite their conflicting philosophies and connections to the significant — and deceased — man in the life, they come to a comic détente thanks to the actors’ commitment to the play’s absurdity.

The Yellow program had a much more polished feel, both in performance, staging, and writing. Writer/director Ben Kawaller’s “The Artists” pits an up-and-coming painter against a bartender who left art school in an enlightening back and forth on the vagaries of their careers. Josh Breslow and Julian Abelskamp have an engaging chemistry as they portray potential rivals who find shocking common ground.  “Every Child Left Behind” is Dennis Danziger’s lambasting of the George W. Bush-era educational reform, as a teacher (Sara Laskey) tries to corral her students (Anye Young, Louie Cruz, and Francisco Zurcher) for another mandatory test. Director John Ciccolini’s comic timing is bolstered by a very talented cast that embody the angst of current teenagers and their teachers as they maneuver the minefield that that passes for modern education.

The best of the bunch is Patrick Gabridge’s  “Santa Doesn’t Live Here Anymore,” directed by Kenneth Castillo, in which a middle-aged couple (Edward Padilla and Karla Ojeda) are conflicted over telling their son (Giovanni Bejarano) the truth about Old Saint Nick. He is definitely at the age for such a revelation, Mom feels the trauma would be too much their son, but Dad feels so strongly about abandoning the subterfuge that the disclosure goes viral, hilariously exposing secrets better left under wraps.

While local theatre can be notorious for late starts, a 35- minute delay of the 6:15 p.m. curtain time was a bit much, even by L.A. standards. Also, you may want to call ahead to see if the “delectable food options” touted in the press release will be there to savor since they were not the night I attended — there are sumptuous tacos across the street, just in case. Bon apetit.

Morgan-Wixson Theatre, 2627 Pico Blvd., Santa Monica; Sat.-Sun., English, 6:15 p.m.; Spanish, 8:30 p.m.; through Sept. 9. https://tickets.briskfestival.com/ (Running time: approximately one hour to one hour and a half hours depending on program.)

 

 

Venus in Fur

Venus in Fur

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Ekaterina Melnick and Mark Blanchard (Photo by Derek Jones)
Ekaterina Melnick and Mark Blanchard (Photo by Derek Jones)

Venus in Fur

Reviewed by Socks Whitmore
McCadden Place Theatre
Through Sept. 3

The term masochism (defined by the dictionary as “the tendency to derive pleasure, especially sexual gratification, from one’s own pain or humiliation”) is derived from the name of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, an Austrian author whose association with the subject stems from the plot of his best-known work, Venus in Furs. The erotic 1870 novella made history as a work rooted in female dominance and sadomasochism, which inspired the terminology. Over the past six decades, it has been adapted into over half a dozen films, as well as one peculiar work for theater by David Ives: the notably singular Venus in Fur, a two-person play-within-a-play currently being produced by Samadahi Entertainment at the McCadden Place Theatre.

The dark comedy begins with a misogynistic rant by New York director-playwright Thomas Novachek (Mark Blanchard), who is struggling to cast his own theatrical adaptation of the German novel and preparing to head home in defeat when a last-minute contender stumbles in from the rain: Vanda (spelled Wanda) Jordan, a seemingly pushy and brash actress who insists on auditioning before Novachek leaves. Though Jordan’s initial impression is borderline obnoxious, she soon proves that she knows the material almost impossibly well—she is a perfect fit to play Vanda von Dunajew, a woman begged by the character Severin von Kusiemski to treat him as her slave. As the actress recites ever more and more of Novachek’s masochistic play, she swings wildly in and out of character to call out the story’s explicitly pornographic nature and challenge Novachek to confront his own buried desires for sexual subjugation. Novachek reads for the role of Kusiemski and, with the continued encouragement from Jordan, reality and fiction gradually become indistinguishable.

The character of Vanda Jordan (“Katyusha” Ekaterina Melnik) is a mystery for much of the show, appearing omniscient and yet with indecipherable motivation. Melnik executes her erratic moodswings with impressive versatility. As a Moscow-born performer, Melnik’s natural accent plays well into the narrative’s framework — though its lilting thickness in combination with the character’s incessant gum-chewing is too often hindersome to the audience’s understanding. Blanchard’s Novachek serves as an underwhelming contrast to the dominating Jordan, making a slow shift from realistic resistance to clumsy submission. The set and lighting design are rather unimaginative, limited by the narrative framework of an unplanned audition, and though the poster art reflects the tone of the German novel, it lacks continuity with Ives’ material and ultimately feels a little misleading.

Venus in Fur attempts to draw comparisons between attitudes towards gender, romance, emotion, and sex in 1870 versus society today, sporting intense arguments about sexism and power in-between increasingly steamy scenes from Novachek’s script. Because of Jordan’s obscured intentions, Blanchard’s direction is unclear and consistently lacks driving energy. The issue lies primarily in the premise; a dragged-out audition is ill-suited to make a full-length play, and the surplus of “reveal”/fakeout moments soon grows stale. The repetitive fakeouts are punctuated by a blindsiding plot twist finale, the improbability of which offers little payoff for the built-up suspense. It’s not entirely clear what lesson the play intends for audiences to take away — the examination of gender power dynamics appears critical of the male gaze, but also doesn’t paint Jordan as much of a relatable female archetype. While there are a few good ideas at play, this 2010 work is too long for too little.

McCadden Place Theatre, 1157 McCadden Pl., Hlywd.; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 3 pm; thru Sept. 3. www.onstage411.com/venusinfur Running time: one hour and 45 minutes

 

 
The Red Suitcase

The Red Suitcase

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Tiago Santos, Emerson Collins and Bruce Melena (Photo by Dlugolecki Photography)
Tiago Santos, Emerson Collins and Bruce Melena (Photo by Dlugolecki Photography)

The Red Suitcase

Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
P3 Theatre Company at The Broadwater
Through September 3

Playwright Jiggs Burgess’s The Red Suitcase takes place “somewhere along the banks of the Brazos River,” a waterway that runs some 840 miles through east Texas to the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico. Like the river, Burgess’s narrative covers a lot of territory, commencing in 1969 and journeying forward four decades as it follows the growing-up years of its lead character, Pogue (Emerson Collins), from his “problematic” birth to his attainment of a mature self-acknowledgement as a writer in Brooklyn. Pivoting on the experience of an abused and bullied child, the play tells an important story while featuring graceful passages and several affecting segments. These strengths, however, are obscured by a number of less-than-assured performances, non-enhancing tech values and an over-extended catharsis.

After the local “widder woman” (Pam Trotter) predicts he’ll be a handful, Pogue is born to Bud (Bruce Melena), an archetypically super-macho Texan and April his wife (Kristen McCullough), a compliant homemaker. It’s clear early on that Pogue, with his soft manner and non-butch leanings, will disappoint Daddy, whose frustration translates into severe beatings, accompanied by demands that he be thanked for this cruel, relentless discipline. Things are no better at school, where he’s viciously persecuted by a mean-minded teacher (Trotter), or anywhere else, for that matter; uncle (Mat Hayes), aunt (Trotter) and big brother Sam (Tiago Santos) also delight in tricking and laughing at the hapless boy.

Pogue does find love in dribs and drabs with his understanding grandmother (Charlotte Louise White); a Mexican handyman who’s unfortunately deported back to Mexico (Santos); plus another boy (Hayes) from out of town — a puppy-love that ultimately creates much bigger problems than it solves. And he happily bonds with his scruffy dog companion, Sparky  — a puppet (created by prop designer Krys Fehervari)  whose presence in the story adds much needed comic relief).

A memory play embellished with metaphor — a person’s life is presented as a suitcase full of memories, while Pogue himself is variously compared to a sparrow or a butterfly — The Red Suitcase affectingly reflects the torment of a gay youngster growing up in an intolerant community, living under the harsh thumb of a brutal parent. Directed by Del Shores, the nightmare this boy lives is communicated loud and clear.

But multiple aspects of the production distract, chief among them the thin caliber of some performances. As bigot and purveyor of punishment, Melena makes the strongest impression in a well-crafted if non-nuanced turn as the hateful Bud. Trotter’s twisted educator, Mrs. Prig, brims with malice, and a monologue where she lets it all hang out is among the production’s most colorful moments. But Collins as Pogue, White as his grandmother, and McCullough as his ineffectual Mom settle for consistently one-dimensional portrayals that lack the gravitas needed to land an emotional punch.

The play might also benefit from a more vivid and varying lighting design (Frank McKown). With the narrative relayed by several performers, and three of them undertaking multiple roles, greater shifts and contrasts would help crystallize and heighten the drama. The scenic and projection design (Jesus Hurtado) is serviceable rather than enhancing.

Lastly, the narrative wraps with a lengthy segment that details the altered dynamic between the adult Pogue, now a writer with an appreciative audience, and his elderly ailing father. For me, a more abbreviated telling that ushers in their final confrontation sooner would strengthen the play in its entirety.

 The Broadwater, 1076 Lillian Way, Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 2 pm; thru Sept. 3.  https://p3theatre.biz/theredsuitcase/  Running time: approximately two hours and 15 minutes with an intermission.

 

 

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Nate Memba and Ari Sucar (Photo by Kim Fowler)
Nate Memba and Ari Sucar (Photo by Kim Fowler)

Pipeline

Reviewed by Martín Hernández
Art of Acting Studio
Through Aug. 19

RECOMMENDED

“The source of this fight is older than the bricks in this building,” intones one of playwright Dominique Morisseau’s characters in her knotty but compelling indictment of the “school to prison pipeline” that pits primarily Black male students against a racist and increasingly carceral education system. While the line refers to an actual school edifice, Morisseau’s play alludes more to the structure of the U.S.A., its White hegemonic oppression of Black people, and the anger that such evokes among some Black folks after centuries of such bigotry.

For teenager Omari (Nate Memba), his pent-up fury erupts in a violent classroom altercation at a majority White elite boarding school in which his divorced parents have enrolled him, ironically chosen as a safer space that could improve Omari’s scholastic opportunities. It is his “third strike” at the institution so he could now face felony charges. His mother Nya (an affecting Fadhia Carmelle Marcelin) is a teacher at the “inner city” high school Omari could have gone if she had not acquiesced to the demands of her ex-husband Xavier (a steely Jon Joseph Gentry). Nya is desperate to unlock the secret to Omari’s anger and, failing that, finds solace in red wine, cigarettes, and other diversions Morisseau craftily hints at. 

Further aggravating the situation is Omari’s fraught relationship with Xavier, a successful business executive who is distant from Omari but who holds economic sway over decisions over his life’s trajectory. While Xavier’s support check is never late, it is his time for which Omari longs. His resentment with Xavier is irritably but comically articulated when Omari acknowledges his father’s arrival during an  intense encounter that also telegraphs Xavier’s own struggle with his inner demons — a harrowing bit by Gentry.

Morisseau’s touchstone is poet Gwendolyn Brooks’s “We Real Cool,” a 1959 contemplation on the precarity of the lives of young Black males, that Nya teaches in her classes and that Omari recites to her in dream sequences. The poem underscores Nya’s increasing horror and guilt over possibly losing her son to prison. In one of a many compelling scenes, Nya relates to Omari’s lovesick girlfriend Jazmine (Ari Sucar), how her son’s life — and by extension other Black lives —can be snatched away in an instant for the most arbitrary of reasons. Morrisseau’s allusion to Richard Wright’s Native Son plays a pivotal role as well.

Supporting Nya is Laurie (Jennifer Sorensen), a dedicated White teacher whose commitment to her students is coupled with some hilariously archaic thinking on punishment, and Dun (Omari Willliams), a school security officer who meets his Herculean task with sympathy for the students and school staff but who rarely gets the same in return. While Laurie and Dun enjoy a lively camaraderie, their class differences are brutally exposed after a tumultuous event.

Director Bryan Keith keeps an even keel on the proceedings, allowing each of his actors to establish a presence with their characters, especially Marcelin and Memba as a believably loving yet conflicted mother and son. Vanessa Fernandez’sprojection design, especially the opening sequence, and Ray Jones’s evocative lighting, establish a suitable tone. Morisseau’s ambiguous ending only highlights Nya’s dilemma in fighting for her son. What else is a mother to do when the system is stacked against them both?

The Howard Clurman Laboratory Theatre, Art of Acting Studio, 1017 N. Orange. Dr., Hollywood; Wed.-Sat., 8 pm; thru Aug. 19. https://web.ovationtix.com/trs/pr/1166054 Running time: Ninety minutes with no intermission.

 

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