REVIEW: Trustus Theatre's People Places & Things by Kristine Hartvigsen

The Trustus Theatre stage play People, Places & Things by English playwright Duncan Macmillan is not feel-good entertainment. But don’t let that stop you from seeing it. 

It isn’t pretty, this sobering depiction of the messy, meandering journey from drunken debauchery to addiction to detox to denial to relapse to denial to acceptance to the beginnings of lifelong recovery.  

The play follows Emma, a troubled actress, through the process of acknowledging her debilitating addiction to drugs and alcohol. Portrayed with authenticity and skill by Christine Hellman, Emma is a drunken, self-absorbed mess who suffers from imposter syndrome on the stage. As a result, she is crippled by self-doubt and has difficulty distinguishing between her stage roles and her often mind-bending, party-filled reality. “If I am not in character, I am not sure who I am,” Emma reveals. 

The most riveting scenes in People are when Emma is agonizing through detox. She shakes and writhes and suffers a terrifying madness complete with hallucinations as many versions of herself emerge repeatedly from her hospital bed like cloned apparitions also seizing and retching and screaming in pain. All the Emmas together reach a cacophony of terrifying volume.  

Incredibly compelling stage design, lighting, and sound convey the emotion and multi-sensory torture Emma experiences. Background screens run video behind the actors that further strengthen the performance. Recorded sound, including broadcast static and echoing narratives, as well as flashing overhead lights contribute to the feelings of confusion and mania. 

When Emma expresses that the therapist and administrator of the facility cannot possibly understand what she and the other patients are going through, it is poignantly revealed that each themselves is a longtime recovering addict.  

In her alternating roles as doctor, therapist, and “mum” to Emma, Erin Wilson is believably straightforward, authoritative, and empathetic as group therapy facilitator. Josh Kern is equal parts likeable and knowing as the rehab facility’s administrator Foster. Each patient’s story adds depth and complexity to the multi-faceted struggles of recovery. Some of the therapy role-play scenes dragged some but included notable performances from William Paul Brown and Alex Malvern. 

While Emma’s first attempt at inpatient rehab fails, she has taken the lessons of therapy to heart and finds her way back to pick up the pieces once more. In trying to rationalize her substance abuse, Emma says things common among addicts like: “I needed something to take the edge off,” and “drugs and alcohol have never let me down.”  

There are moments of needed comic relief that emphasize the subtle contradictions inherent in the culture of substance abuse. In one nonsensical scene, the patients almost competitively spit out stories demonstrating how much more “fucked up” they are than the others — as if there was a certain dysfunctional pride in fucked-up-edness.  

Ultimately, the patients agree contextually that “The problem is not us; it’s the world.” However they also take responsibility for their behaviors and find comfort in realizing “We’re all the same.”  

Director Dewey Scott-Wiley is to be commended for delivering a brilliant play that bravely takes on an ugly topic with empathy and wit. The entire cast performing in People tackle unflattering and starkly challenging roles to tell an insightful story that touches nearly every American family on some level.  

The play does end on a positive note, with Emma acknowledging the “gift of desperation” and — having done the work — eventually resuming the necessary practice of going to auditions. This recovery milestone shows that it is possible to return to some semblance of a normal life. This revealing play is well worth seeing.

People, Places & Things (produced in partnership with LRADAC and The Courage Center) runs at Trustus Theatre through Oct. 12.

Review: The 39 Steps Opens at Chapin Theatre By Jane Peterson

The 39 Steps, a comedic gem originally crafted by Simon Corble and Nobby Dimon, debuted at Chapin Theatre Company Friday night to a packed house. Directed by Frank Thompson, this farcical adaptation spoofs Alfred Hitchcock’s 1935 film and John Buchan’s 1915 novel, blending the intrigue of a murder mystery with a comedic flair reminiscent of Monty Python, Mel Brooks, and chaotic productions like Noises Off and The Play That Goes Wrong.

In this witty reimagining, the entire plot of the 1935 Hitchcock film is recreated by just four actors, a feat that leads to boundless hilarity. George Dinsmore shines as the lead, Richard Hannay, an unsuspecting hero entangled in a spy conspiracy. Jennifer Kraus takes on the roles of three women (Pamela, Annabella, and Margaret), each of whom Hannay encounters in his desperate bid to clear his name. Ripley Thames and Julia Hudson steal the show as they juggle dozens of other roles, from innkeepers to police officers, to businessmen, showcasing their talent for rapid character shifts and physical comedy.

The plot centers on Hannay’s efforts to prove his innocence after being accused of murdering a mysterious spy, played with captivating charm by Kraus. Her portrayal of the dark-haired femme fatale Annabella sets the stage for the wild ride that follows. As Hannay evades capture, he crosses paths with a variety of eccentric characters, all hilariously brought to life by Thames and Hudson, who skillfully switch between personalities and accents with minimal costume changes. Their impeccable comedic timing keeps the audience in stitches as they bring the absurdity of the story to life.

Dinsmore plays Hannay with both charm and earnestness, effortlessly embodying the role of an accidental hero. His scenes, particularly the daring stunts—like hanging from the side of a train—are a delight to watch. Kraus, as his three love interests, excels in her ability to bring distinct personalities to each woman, with perfect comedic timing and facial expressions that add depth to the humor. Thames and Hudson, as the "clowns" of the show, provide endless gags, sight humor, and quick-witted dialogue, managing to make each character memorable despite the dizzying pace of their transformations.

A highlight of the production is the creative use of multimedia and projections, which are brilliantly integrated into the minimal set. Black-and-white and color images are used to transport the audience to various locations, riding on a speeding train, and in a car. We even witnessed a plane crash. Thompson’s direction ensures that the actors' movements, particularly in scenes involving the moving train and car chases, are synchronized perfectly with the projections, adding another layer of visual comedy to the show.

Though a few of the set changes felt slightly prolonged on opening night, it’s a small nitpick in an otherwise polished production. The actors' chemistry and energy more than compensated for any technical issues, delivering an engaging and highly entertaining experience from start to finish.

The 39 Steps runs from October 10 to 20 at Chapin Theatre, with evening performances and weekend matinees. Tickets are $15 in advance and range from $18 (seniors) to $20 (adults) at the door. Don’t miss this uproarious homage to classic cinema—this is a theatrical event full of laughs that you won’t want to miss! Visit www.chapintheatre.org for tickets.

REVIEW: Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune

Frankie and Johnny in the Claire de Lune

Trustus Side Door Theatre

April 11 – 20, 2024

The play opens on a darkened apartment, with a couple making love. After working together for several weeks Frankie, a waitress has agreed to a date with Johnny, a short-order cook, and the two have ended up in Frankie’s one-room walk-up apartment. Johnny (played by Jason Stokes) has fallen madly, absurdly, head-over-heels in love with Frankie (Marybeth Gorman Craig). Frankie thinks this is an absurd notion. She’s had a lovely evening but would be happiest if Johnny would just get dressed and leave so she could get in her pj’s and eat ice cream and watch television. 

The evening unfurls as our two world-weary, battered souls talk and listen and question and argue about love and the notion of love, and whether any of us are really and truly prepared to meet the love of our lives, that one soul without whom we cannot live. A late-night classical music radio station provides the score, complete with a velvet-voiced deejay. 

Johnny is persistent and obnoxious and relentless and meddling and romantic, and he NEVER SHUTS UP in his quest to convince Frankie that she is in fact his soulmate. There were several times when I wanted her to push him out the window or split his head open with an axe. He’s just adorable. This may be the best work I’ve seen from Stokes, and I’ve seen him in any number of roles. His shading, his timing, his nuance, his unending enthusiasm is all spot on. 

I’m not sure how Marybeth Gorman Craig is able to pull off world-weary and luminous at the same time, but she does it beautifully. Her Frankie has been burned and disappointed by men over and over. Her skepticism is as relentless as Johnny’s enthusiasm. She would like to believe him, but her experiences won’t let her. Yet.           

When I first heard this was being produced in the Side Door, I was  concerned that it would be too “cozy” for this show. In fact it’s the perfect space. We feel as claustrophobic as Frankie. Jayce Tromsness’ scene design and Erin Wilson’s set dressing is true to tiny NYC apartments. There’s a working kitchen! I love a working kitchen on stage; Frankie’s need for a late-night nosh (cold meatloaf sandwiches – delish) resulted in real meatloaf sandwiches ON TOAST. (I went home and made toast after the show.)  There’s a later scene where Johnny whips up a western omelet; there is a soupçon of menace to his chopping skill. 

For any of you who might hesitate to see this show because you’ve heard that there would be  NAKED PEOPLE onstage, relax. There are no naked people onstage in this production, and it didn’t affect the story one iota.

 We’ve all had those all-nighters, where we argued and made up and loved and snacked and made discoveries about ourselves and each other and made love again until the sun rose. Hopefully, we’ve sometimes even had “the most beautiful music ever written” as a soundtrack. Erin Wilson has given us a lovely, lovely show. Frankie and Johnny are tired and resigned and hopeful and hopeless. You don’t necessarily get a “happy ending,” but you don’t get a sad one, either. I was sad and hopeful and wanted a cigarette at the end of the evening.

Sadly, you only have 4 more chances to see this production: April 17 – April 20 at 8:00 p.m. There is limited seating in the Side Door Theatre so make your reservations now. Tickets may be purchased online or by calling the theatre at 803-254-9732. Beer and wine are available for purchase in the lobby.

REVIEW: Kinky Boots at Workshop Theatre

Originally a smash Broadway hit, Kinky Boots is a musical about two people finding common ground in an unusual way: through shoes. With the book by Harvey Fierstein, Kinky Boots is the story of two seemingly different individuals who discover that they have more similarities than differences. Charlie Price (Taylor Diveley) inherits the family’s shoe factory just as he is attempting to start his life elsewhere. Unfortunately, the factory is bankrupt and may close. A chance encounter with Lola (Lamont Gleaton), a drag queen and cabaret performer, leads to an unconventional solution to save the business.

Jocelyn Sanders has done an admirable job of pulling together a talented cast of performers for a fun evening of theatre. As the leads, Diveley and Gleaton balance each other nicely and then shine beautifully during solo numbers. Gleaton dazzles as the outwardly confident Lola, taking the stage by storm with a larger-than-life persona and performance. At other times, Gleaton easily reaches the introspection necessary to convey the depth of Lola’s sometimes painful journey to true self-understanding. Diveley takes some of the same opportunities, as he energetically leads his factory workers to believe in the dream of success and then anguishes over his own shortcomings.

The supporting characters and cast play beautifully in the background of Charlie and Lola’s story without pulling focus away from those characters’ journey. Evident in their body language, the factory workers are initially tired and demoralized, anxious about what is around the corner. After Lola enters the scene, the factory comes alive with energy. Jessica Roth (Lauren) presents a nicely nuanced performance, a tad daffy when required and thoughtful and kind in other important moments.

Lola’s Angels do exactly what they’re supposed to do. They bring fun and energy to the stage through their marvelous dancing and sassy personalities. Mandy Applegate’s overall choreography is fun and sexy and gives all performers a chance to shine.

The live band is terrific, led by Chrystine McClellan, who is also the Music Director. McClellan has taken a group of varied performers and created not only a lovely ensemble performance but also has led individual performers to shine where their talents lie. The only sound drawback is that at times, it is difficult to hear certain dialogue and portions of songs.

When you first arrive, you find yourself looking at the exterior of Price and Son, the factory which Charlie inherits. During the opening number, the building opens to reveal an aging industrial space in which most of the action takes place. Both the set and light design are by Patrick Faulds, and both beautifully deliver an important underlying aspect of the show. The lighting seamlessly moves with the performers, capturing them as they move to different levels and areas of the stage, which is a credit to the design and designer. As the locations change, Faulds has designed clever movable set pieces, practically moved by cast members in character, adding to the overall success of the design.

The costumes, designed by Andie Nicks, also play a nice supporting role, and then step to the front to take a bow when appropriate. Nicks has chosen a basic monochromatic theme for most of the clothing of the factory workers, leaving it to Lola and the Angels to dazzle the eyes. The varied costumes sported by the Angels bring real life to their personalities, and Lola’s outfits . . . . Well, let’s just say “fabulous” is insufficient.

Kinky Boots runs about two and a half hours, with one fifteen-minute intermission. It runs through October 8 at Cottingham Theatre on the campus of Columbia College.

REVIEW -- Amityville 1925

Seven years in the making, playwright and founder of Theatre Mysterium, Christofer Cook, brings his new play, “Amityville 1925” to the black box performance space at Columbia Music Festival Association, 914 Pulaski Street in Columbia’s Vista.

Inspired by mythology surrounding the famed house at the center of the Amityville Horror franchise, Cook’s cast enacts a tale about the Moynahan family, a real family who occupied the home in 1925. In Cook’s imagination, the Irish Catholic family of five is transplanted to Amityville, NY taking up residence at 112 Ocean Avenue, the same house that has appeared to be malevolently sneering down at us in all our scary movie-induced nightmares since the first film debuted in 1979.

In Cook’s play, the family arrives at their new home with their furnishings intact due to the kindness of Jesse Purdy, the patriarch John Moynahan’s best friend. They immediately have the home blessed in traditional Catholic fashion by the local priest Father Fitzgerald but, despite the ostensible blessings bestowed by the man of the cloth, something is awry from the start. Noises from beneath the floorboards, pops and snaps from the fireplace, toppled furniture and books flying through the air. Everything one would expect from a home we hope to be haunted.

But the Moynahan family of three adult children and parents are smarter than the average haunted household-dwellers and they use their deductive powers and Irish intellects to solve the mystery of a house that has a mind of its own.

Or do they?

Amityville 1925 is a world premiere play with exceedingly strong bones and quite a bit of meat on them, to boot. Having seen the first ever public performance of the play on its opening night of Thursday, October 21, I was engaged by where the story was going, where it took me, and impressed by the scenery along the way.

Cook has assembled an excellent cast of actors, each holding their own and contributing singularly significant pieces to the puzzle. The cast successfully performs as one expects an ensemble to do with no weak links and no characters overshadowing others.

The fourth wall having been delightfully broken from the onset as the players approach the stage via the audience, pausing on the steps of the home to acknowledge the beginning of their occupancy of the house, as well as the beginning of the play, various characters return to their conversation with the audience  throughout the performance. The convention works well as a comfortable narrative device with little to no meta-referential disruption.

As family matriarch Catherine Moynahan, Zsuzsa Manna neatly walks a narrow path of being both devoutly religious but still intellectually astute and perceptive. Her Irish accent was captivating as was that of her on-stage spouse, Frank Thompson in the role of John Moynahan.

The three Moynahan siblings, Stephanie Walker as Eileen, Katie Mixon as Marguerite, and James Nolan as Thomas, are strongly portrayed. Walker’s performance was particularly engaging, evoking comparisons with that of Samantha Sloyan’s Bev Keane on the Netflix drama Midnight Mass. Even on opening night the audience got a sense of the essence of the siblings’ unique personalities which, as the run progresses, I feel certain will acquire even more depth. James Nolan’s performance suggested a far more mature actor than I expected when I recognized his youth. As he more fully actualizes his role I would expect to see more of the youthful anger and frustration the character Thomas suggests as the play goes on.

In fact, the inference of a little more backstory for the family members as-a-whole might serve to further enrich the play. I would love to know more about the relationship between the children. While Walker’s Eileen appears naively boy crazy when she meets Father Fitzgerald, it is her (more mature or possessed?) sister who acts on those impulses later on. Why is this?

And no family with adult children under one roof get along so cordially and in such a non-confrontational manner as do the Moynahan siblings. The addition of inter-relationship awareness might add texture to the siblings’ characters. Similarly, I’d love to know some incidental history of the friendship between John Moynahan and his best friend Jesse Purdy, played devotedly by Landry Phillips.

The most challenging role of the play was that of Father Fitzgerald which Charlie Goodrich accomplished with ease. Goodrich fully possessed the variation required of his role, leading the audience to believe that Father Fitzgerald was quite the actor himself.

My only frustrations with Amityville 1925 were issues that could be avoided by two things: workshopping the play to address some of the small narrative gaps mentioned above, and the hard work of a good stage manager. As someone who appreciates the difficulty of presenting what is often a one-person production, I know well how frustrating it can be to have to put out fires when you’d rather be putting flowers in a vase to make everything pretty. A stage manager would make sure the set looked complete by finishing the painting and wallpapering so raw wood doesn’t peep through an empty grandfather clock. They would dust the lower shelves of tables at audience eye-level, replace an anachronistic plastic pesticide bottle with a glass jug marked with a skull and crossbones, and made sure the bed’s box springs couldn’t be seen on the floor.

That said, the fact that this playwright/production team put a performance of this caliber together is an unusual and quite remarkable accomplishment and they deserve high praise. The play is grounded, smart, wryly funny in unexpected places, (here’s to soda bread and rotting corpses), and thoroughly entertaining. It may, in fact, be the best thing you’ll see this Halloween season.

The next time I see it, and I really want to see it again, I hope it will be on a more professional and hospitable stage with a larger crew, a bigger budget—though Theatre Mysterium clearly did a lot with a little—and all the bells and whistles a well-conceived and soundly performed piece of theatre art like Amityville 1925 deserves.

October 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th
28th, 29th, 30th, 31st

These are Thursday - Sunday performances. 8:00 curtain, except Sundays which are 1:00 pm matinees.

General admission. Tickets are $20 per person. Go to TicketLeap.com to make reservations.

REVIEW: Miss Bennet Christmas at Pemberley by Frank Thompson

(Clockwise from upper left) Martha Hearn Kelly, Marshall Spann, Hillary Scales-Lewis, G. Scott Wild, Jennifer Lucas O’Brient, Tashera Pravato-Hutchenson, Kira Nessel, Charles Bingley

The Yuletide is fully upon us, and one of the hallmarks of the season is getting together and spending time with old friends, some of whom you may not have visited in years. Such was certainly the case for this reviewer/bibliophie, who enjoyed a delightful evening in the company of a handful of classic Jane Austen characters last Saturday night at Trustus Theatre. Miss Bennet: Christmas At Pemberley is a lighthearted, oft-hilarious, affectionately cheeky sequel to Austen’s novel, Pride And Prejudice. Set two years after the events of the original story, we find the still-single Mary Bennett just as bookish, and perhaps slightly more sardonic than ever. The family circle is gathering for Christmas, with much excitement and befuddlement over the Christmas tree, a new holiday novelty of the era, only recently adopted from German culture. Lizzy Bennet, now Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, is a bit less than thrilled that her husband has invited the socially awkward but charming Arthur de Bourgh to join the family for the merriment, but welcomes him warmly, as does the rest of the group. Kittenish younger sister Lydia amuses herself by chasing de Bourgh around the house with mistletoe, despite his bumbling efforts to dissuade her from her pursuit, while the fourth Bennet daughter, Jane, does her best to remain calm and relaxed as she awaits the any-minute-now arrival of her first child with husband Charles Bingley. A few comedic mishaps aside, all seems to be going smoothly, with the cozily predictable romance between Mary and Arthur developing slowly over their shared love of books and intellectualism, until Arthur’s in-name-only fiancée, Anne, shows up in full hauteur. The second act moves briskly, but pulls back slightly on the pace of the storytelling, allowing for several glimpses into the characters and their motivations. Multiple minor revelations, in tandem with a couple of significant eleventh-hour reveals, allow for a happy ending and the promise of contentment for all.

Director Libby Hawkins clearly loves the material, providing her cast with solid guidance and a well-developed sense of the show’s heightened reality. There’s more comedy here than in Pride And Prejudice, but Hawkins never allows the material to evolve into parody or satire. The direction is respectful to the source material without going so far as to lose its sense of freshness. Two subtle choices are perfectly integrated into the action, nicely counterbalancing the formality of speech and conduct that establish the period with a contemporary accessibility. The first is physical in nature, with the characters using gestures and movements that, while not at all anachronistic, could easily be seen in the interaction of young adults in 2019. It’s a small button on an already clearly defined universe, but it truly helps to draw the audience into the goings-on while humanizing what could have easily been a stereotypical set of 19th century formal poses and strictly choreographed standing, sitting, and grandly sweeping exits. The second choice is to punctuate scene changes and the passing of time with modern (well, 1960s and forward) Christmas tunes. From “Step Into Christmas” to “All I Want For Christmas Is You,” with such emotionally evocative musical checkpoints as “Blue Christmas” and “Please Come Home For Christmas” along the way, the production’s soundtrack entertains while gently reminding the audience that family and romantic entanglements are as timeless and sometimes messy as modern relationships.

The performances are, as is almost always the case at Trustus, polished and professional. In the title role, Martha Hearn Kelly skillfully walks a tightrope between loveable nerdiness and low-grade bitchiness toward those around her, and succeeds in creating a sympathetic and relatable character. Kelly’s Mary Bennet doesn’t suffer fools lightly, but there’s obviously a great deal of warmth beneath her icily intellectual façade. When we see her fall to despair, (don’t worry, it all works out) Kelly’s full commitment to Mary’s emotions reveals a tender, delicate soul who is more easily wounded than one might have predicted based on the early scenes. As her clumsily dashing counterpart, Marshall Spann brings Arthur de Bourgh to gloriously befuddled life, imbuing meaning and texture to every stammer, nervous tic, and forced chuckle. Tall, handsome, and wealthy, de Bourgh is set up from the start to eventually reveal the Superman we all knew was beneath his Clark Kent exterior all along. Not only does he find his backbone and win the love of his lady fair, he also provides a deus ex machina moment toward the conclusion that proves compassion and kind-heartedness to be prominent among his many good qualities. As boy-crazy Lydia, Kira Nessel enters with all the giddy naughtiness of a sorority girl on spring break, but doesn’t waste time in establishing Lydia as a semi-tragic figure making the best of a distant and unhappy marriage to an oft-absent husband. As with Kelly and Spann, Nessel begins as a caricature that soon becomes three-dimensional. (A tip of the hat to playwrights Lauren Gunderson and Margot Melcon, who provide an artfully crafted script which handles exposition and character intros early on, then allows the story to blossom as the characters unfold.) Having recently shared the stage with Nessel in OnStage Productions’ Oliver!, I was particularly impressed with her versatility. As Oliver!’s Nancy, she showed that she could play rough-edged with a heart of gold, while her Lydia exudes grace and privilege.

The rest of the cast has a bit less stage time than the three mentioned above, but this is most definitely an ensemble piece. G. Scott Wild, known for his facility with gruff, blustery characters, takes a softer, more avuncular approach to Mr. Darcy, and his scenes with Hillary Scales-Lewis’ Mrs. Darcy (nee Lizzy Bennet) exude warmth and mutual love. Scales-Lewis is a consistent ray of sunshine; her Lizzy cheerfully dismissing any wisecracks about her Christmas tree, and taking seemingly endless delight in the quirks and caprices of those around her. Wild and Scales-Lewis have outstanding chemistry, and I hope to see them paired onstage again soon. Tashera Pravato-Hutchenson is a soothingly maternal oasis of calm within the comedic hurricane surrounding her. Jane Bennet’s pregnancy isn’t a hugely significant plot point, but it does open opportunities for Pravato-Hutchenson to ground the lunacy through her aura of confident, quiet serenity. Her scenes with Vincent Sanders’ Charles Bingley gently establish the dynamic of a young couple starting out to create their own family. Sanders takes Bingley in a somewhat traditional leading-man direction, assisting his wife, paying respects to his host and hostess, and joining Mr. Darcy in offering brotherly romantic advice to the perplexed Arthur. This makes his second-act freakout all the more hilarious, having seen him hold it together for most of the show. As Anne, Jennifer Lucas O’Brient provides something of a mirror-image of Nessel’s Lydia, introducing the audience to a character who turns out to be far more than she at first appears. I can’t provide too many details without unraveling some nice surprises, but will say that O’Brient’s arc provides the most unexpected of character reveals, and she demonstrates Anne’s growth with great aplomb. As Gilbert & Sullivan wrote, “things are seldom what they seem,” and O’Brient’s Anne proves the axiom. Almost all the characters go through changes, but Anne’s is arguably the most dramatic.

Martha Hearn Kelly and Marshall Spann

Set Designer Sam Hetler and Property Master Matthew DeGuire have collaborated to create a most believable Victorian drawing room, complete with richly upholstered furniture and period bric-a-brac, and Costume Designer Janine McCabe has dressed the cast in an array of well-chosen colors and textures which evoke the period while quietly reinforcing each character’s persona. McCabe embraces the reality of an age when people changed clothes numerous times a day, and provides each actor with what appears to be a sumptuously stocked wardrobe. (Full confession: while getting a drink at intermission, I was asked what I liked best about the show, and without even pondering, I said “Oh my God, the costumes!”)

Miss Bennet: Christmas At Pemberley runs through 21 December, so there’s still time to work it into your holiday schedule, but tickets are likely to go quickly. As much as we all love Scrooge, Ralphie, George Bailey, and Charlie Brown, it’s most refreshing and fun to enjoy a new Christmastime entertainment featuring beloved characters, and this show more than fills the bill.

-FLT3

Frank Thompson is proud to serve as Theatre Editor for JASPER.

REVIEW-- Marjorie Prime at Trustus

Trustus Offers A Smart, Thought-Provoking Marjorie Prime

By Frank Thompson

Len Marini

While talking with a good friend just before the performance of Trustus Theatre’s Marjorie Prime, I picked up a most interesting statement which I wish I could claim as my own. “I steer away from using the term science fiction when describing this show, because I don’t want to scare people away.” Aside from a small internal grumble that quite a few of us would love to see a play grounded in science fiction, I completely understood his point. Marjorie Prime, playing a limited engagement through this weekend at Trustus Theatre, may not involve spaceships, light sabers, or fiendish plots by alien villains bent on ruling the universe, but it takes a near-future scientific development and explores how technology can (and does) alter the human experience. Staged on the diagonal, (or on the bias for those who sew) the show is viewed much in the style of a football or basketball game, with the audience observing from the bleachers on both sides. While on the surface a fun, clever, idea for giving Marjorie Prime a fresh look, the seating also subtly reinforces the adversarial nature between Marjorie (Len Marini) and her daughter, Tess (Becky Hunter.) As with a sporting event, the teams have firmly established end zones. Marjorie seldom, if ever, ventures beyond her sitting room, which is located on one end of the set. Her computer-generated husband, Walter (Clint Poston) never leaves her side, moving to a quiet space just behind her chair when he needs to disappear. Tess, for the most part, remains solidly in her comfort area of the kitchen, located as far as possible from Marjorie, while her husband, Jon, (Glenn Rawls) works the entire playing space, underscoring his role as referee and peacemaker. Hats off to director Elena Martinez-Vidal for this visually and dramatically effective detail in blocking.

Martinez-Vidal has also clearly worked her team of pros on digging deeply into Jordan Harrison’s script, a 2015 Pulitzer Prize Finalist. Without revealing too many specifics, the gist of the story is that in the year 2050, the technology exists to create replicas of deceased loved ones. As with many of today’s smart devices, the more it learns, the more accurately the simulation can tailor itself to its users’ needs and memories. When elderly Marjorie starts spending more and more time talking to her ersatz husband, (long dead, but here appearing as she recalls him; a handsome man in early middle age) Tess begins to worry about the psychological and ethical implications of the arrangement. Jon simply wants to preserve household peace while defending an almost 90-year-old woman’s right to be happy in her final years, opting to simply indulge Marjorie in enjoying what seems to him little more than a child’s toy.  As the show progresses, the very concepts of reality and simulation begin to intersect, ending with a fully resolved plot that still manages to leave the audience with questions. If your plans for the evening include a drink with fellow playgoers after seeing Marjorie Prime, I promise you’ll have plenty to discuss.

The cast is a well-known quartet of Columbia theatre regulars, with Len Marini turning in a tour-de-force performance in the title role. Her Marjorie is aged and infirm, but still sufficiently aware of her surroundings to wage an ongoing battle of wills against her daughter, a dynamic through which Marini succeeds at demonstrating an iron will inside a rapidly-declining body, with a mind in the early stages of dementia. Marjorie is neither all victim nor all aggressor, and Marini creates a three-dimensional character with whom the audience sympathizes, but isn’t afraid to allow Marjorie to occasionally wander into the grey area of human nature.

Len Marini and Clint Poston

As the incarnation of Walter, Marjorie’s late husband, Clint Poston shines in a fine example of stylized acting that impresses in both its subtlety and effectiveness. As it is revealed (minor spoiler alert) that Walter is still relatively new, he asks lots of questions, and often responds in an intelligent, yet childlike manner. I was reminded of the vocal cadence of Iain Armitage, the child actor in the title role of the TV series, Young Sheldon, as Poston delivered his perfectly-crafted sentences with an innocent lilt to his speech. The show’s opening scene, with Poston’s youthful singsong playing against Marini’s realistic older-person vernacular, is one of the show’s most fascinating, as it begins to define the reality of the script’s universe. The slightly disjointed quality to their wordplay establishes a set of rules in which we soon discover that truth and fantasy have become more subjective concepts in the near future.

Becky Hunter, as usual, turns in a solid, textured performance as Tess, Marjorie’s realistic and put-upon daughter. In her early fifties and frustrated by her role as caretaker to her elderly mother, Tess yearns for a life of her own, yet takes her filial duties to heart. Hunter gives the audience glimpses of the girlishness still alive in Tess, while overlaying her interpretation with a world-weariness oft associated with those who have been forced to grow old before their time. In the hands of a less skillful actor, Tess could have come off as shrill or unlikeable, but Hunter infuses the role with an undeniable warmth and obvious love for Marjorie and Jon.

Speaking of Jon, somehow this was my first time seeing Glenn Rawls onstage, and I do hope it won’t be the last. With a four-or-five day scruff and an untucked sports shirt, Rawls brings to life easygoing peacemaker, Jon, which may well be the most layered role in Marjorie Prime. While an interesting person in his own right, Jon is also the lens of reality through which we are able to catch an accurate glimpse of the other three characters. Rawls establishes Jon as an individual by the sincerity and realism with which he handles sharing a home with a dysfunctional parent/child team, the latter of whom happens to be his wife. Jon is far from cheerless, yet Rawls invokes a feeling of hopeful melancholy in his interpretation. Jon has not given up hope, but he has abandoned unrealistic optimism.

Becky Hunter and Glenn Rawls

On the tech side, Sam Hetler’s set is sleek and minimalist, as is usually the case in the intimate Side Door Theatre at Trustus. Hetler has done his usual fine job of making use of every inch of available space, and in making a black box space seem roomy. Laura Anthony’s lighting is also somewhat basic, yet never feels skimpy. One of her best effects occurs when a specific twist in reality happens repeatedly as a plot device. A simple pop of light, (accented by an appropriate noise from Sound Designer Patrick Michael Kelly) lasting maybe a second, clearly establishes what otherwise could be a somewhat confusing plot convention. Costume Designer Abigail McNeely has dressed her actors in contemporary casual, which suits the script perfectly. Any attempt to suggest a “futuristic” fashion sense would have robbed this cerebral piece of its grounding in reality, and McNeely has wisely avoided such.

Part family drama, part cultural think piece, and part morality play, Marjorie Prime also has a sprinkling of The Twilight Zone about it. It’s an intelligent and provocative work that reflects Trustus’ mission to present new and timely theatre, as well as a most enjoyable show. The run is limited, with performances 13-16 November, at 8pm, with a 2pm matinee also on Saturday. Tickets can be ordered online at Trustus.org, or by ringing the box office on (803) 254.9732.

Frank Thompson is proud to serve as Theatre Editor for JASPER.

REVIEW: Company at Trustus Theatre by Jason Craig

Walter Graham plays Bobby in the Trustus Theatre production of Stephen Sondheim’s Company

Full Disclosure -- I happily went to see Trustus Theatre's production of Company last Thursday night (running through Oct. 26th).  If given the chance (and a sitter) I will always go and see a live theatre event – stories shared together in public continually make my life richer.  So, read on with the knowledge that this post is biased!  If you know Sondheim’s music, or know the performers, then you probably don’t need any more reason to spend a nice evening out at Trustus; however, if you are on the fence about how to spend your precious hours, then I hope I can shed light on some of the ways this production was worth my time.

Ear Candy 

First off, it’s Sondheim and for whatever reason, live Sondheim has become a rare treat.  Stephen Sondheim has a talent for honing into the heart of life’s dilemmas and cleverly bringing clarity to the nuances of those dilemmas.  The rich harmonies and catchy melodies are joyful, moving, enlightening and complex.   For these reasons, Sondheim can be a challenge for regional theatres. Bringing together 19 actor-singer-musicians without a Broadway-sized-budget is no easy feat, but the folks at Trustus Theatre put together a tight ensemble of talented performers.

Fun Fact: There is a nice cast recording from the 2007 Broadway revival that can be streamed free through Hoopla – Thanks Richland County Public Library!

Soul Food 

I appreciate the way Sondheim explores the tragic-comic nature of human experience.  At first glance, this dilemma appears to be embodied in Bobby (played by Walter Graham), who is turning 35 and at a crossroads of whether to pursue marriage or continue on with his seemingly content life as a New York City bachelor.  However, after watching the entire show, I found one song in particular nicely put the rest of the scenes and songs in perspective.  Toward the end of the first act, one of Bobby’s eligible bachelorettes, Marta (played by Hillary Scales-Lewis), beautifully sings what appears to be an ode to life in the City.  In Another Hundred People Sondheim describes life in a “city of strangers,” where it doesn’t matter whether a person is getting off the train or going to a party, they are always one person in a crowd of strangers – always crowded AND, always alone. 

Seen in this light, every relationship -- marriage or friendship offers another variation of New Yorkers trying to negotiate life’s decisions in the cauldron of these two fears – the fear of being over-crowded vs. the fear of being lonely.  Each scene, each relationship, and each song offers sometimes amusing and sometimes poignant glimpses into this cauldron. 

Side by Side…by Side 

It’s important to note that this show is structured in vignettes. In place of a major story arc with rising action, primary and secondary conflicts, etc., there are variations on a theme.  The main character is less of a protagonist and more of a cruise director and Graham does an excellent job, charismaticly and confidently guiding us through these variations. 

One of the unique qualities (and most fun for me personally) was that each marriage relationship was somehow made richer, more complete, when the best friend came to dinner.  The best friend in this case is Bobby, and so we see that not only do these couples appreciate the opportunity to show off the uniquely amusing way they’ve learned to negotiate their fears, they actually need Bobby.  It turns out that marriage is not necessarily a solution to loneliness and crowdedness – in fact, the act of marriage seems to make these fears more complicated, and the couples a bit crazy.  Bobby is not only a witness, he is also the glue that somehow makes the marriages work – one part confidante, one part therapist, one part distraction, one part mirror. Bobby’s presence in these many lives is both appreciated and necessary.

Sondheim celebrates this phenomenon in the number Side By Side By Side.  This number was fantastic to watch. Terrance Henderson choreographs this piece in a way that harkens back to blockbuster shows of the ‘30s and ‘40s – canes, imagined top hats, soft-shoe dance breaks.  It felt like a celebration of the “threesome” -- not the kinky kind, but the mutually appreciative kind where the idea of family starts to extend into deep, lasting friendships.  I loved getting to think back to all of the many couples I kept together as a single person in my twenties and early thirties, as well as the ways in which these couples welcomed me into their homes and their families.  And now, after having been married with children for 10 years, I love having the opportunity to appreciate the single friends that extend our family and keep us a little saner.

Fun Fact: The Broadway debut took place 4 days after the first Earth Day Celebration. 

The Better World We (can) Imagine 

The Show originally opened on Broadway almost 50 years ago and was based on one-act plays by George Furth.    Written about and for New York’s upper-middle-class, as Sondheim has noted, the problems are those of the very demographic most likely to attend a Broadway musical at the time.  This is art as a mirror to life, and that mirror reflected white, ivy-league educated, urban professionals.

Even if the demographic is limited, the issues or problems that arise are universal. Social acceptance and stigma associated with alcohol and food addiction, drug use, racial disparity, homophobia, and conspicuous consumption, are some of the topics that get touched in the midst of singing and dancing.

When directing shows written for another place and time, directors make choices about how and when to highlight or alter elements that keep the show fresh and timely – connecting the original themes to modern ears and eyes.  Sondheim, himself has worked with directors over the years to make some of these scenes timely, and most recently he worked to update the 2018 London revival that included a female protagonist as Bobbie, as well as a same sex couple about to embark on their own wedding day.  One can imagine how such changes might offer new insights into our modern lives.

Director Dewey Scott-Wiley chose to stick with an earlier variation of the script, and it is easy to see why she might make this choice.  Life in Columbia, South Carolina offers a unique mix of old and new sentiments and although same-sex marriages are openly celebrated in many circles, there is still a very real possibility that one could be confronted with direct or indirect homophobia.  This production gives us an opportunity to witness someone struggle with the fears of homophobia, and then find the courage to overcome those fears, speaking quietly, behind closed doors without the security that what is revealed will be accepted.  This is a well-performed scene and one that will likely spark interesting dialogue.

Another choice that seems worth noting is the choice to cast in a way where talent, not race or age, is the primary casting consideration.  When Sondheim references the audience of the 1970s, he might as well be referencing a structural racism embedded in the art form itself.  Many theatres are working to change these dynamics and it is fun to see how well it works to portray these 50-year-old, upper-middle-class stories with the kind of diversity this cast brings.  It is also fun to see how these choices might bring further insights or springboard conversations around other ways our community can work together to address structural inequality.

A final update, and one that works very well with the theme is the constant presence of cell phones in the lives of the characters.  If Marta’s ode to life in New York sets up a primary theme -- forever crowded and always alone – then the choice to highlight the central role that cell phones play in communication becomes an important way to see how these devices might help us deal with the loneliness and simultaneously make us feel more crowded.

Shout Outs

 This show is designed for a talented ensemble and it was a joy to see so many people working to generously support each other toward this end.   This is important to note because Sondheim did write some very catchy, well known songs – show stoppers – and it would be easy to focus too much on some of the individual talents that performed these numbers while ignoring the equally talented individuals who offered their voices in more supporting roles.

Thursday night’s crowd was particularly pleased and primed to enjoy those numbers originally performed by the late Elaine Stritch.  The character Joanne has attracted some big name musical stars over the years and Sheldon Paschal did a great job performing the The Little Things You Do Together and The Ladies Who Lunch. I didn’t know this latter song in advance, but there was a fairly good sized audience who did, and who seemed to treat it as a personal anthem. 

Another song that stands out for its surprising cleverness is Getting Married Today. Brittany Hammock, who portrays Amy, sang this lightning-paced song with clarity and precision while embodying the particular kind of craziness a person might feel on their wedding day.

Final Pitch

 There are many ways to enhance your experience seeing this show before it closes Oct. 26th, and here are a few recommendations.  Before the show, use Richland Library’s audio streaming services to stream the cast recording so that you can mouth along with the words.  If you are single, go on a date with your favorite couple; if you are coupled, bring your favorite single friend.   If you like to be a part of community dialogue, plan to see the show before attending an “On The Table” (Oct. 24th) event hosted by Central Carolina Community Foundation -- the discussions will only benefit from theatre-infused insights.  

Jason Craig

(he, him, his)

Sustainable Midlands

Columbia Resilience

Raconteurs Storytelling Club

REVIEW: Trustus Theatre's The Great Gatsby Like No Other by William Arvay

“As of January first, it’s the twenties again!” declared Chad Henderson as he introduced Trustus’ latest production, “The Great Gatsby,” F. Scott Fitzgerald’s roaring twenties novel, adapted for the stage in 2006 by Simon Levy.

Almost a century after it was written, “Gatsby” deals with America’s continuing modern struggles with wealth and class, war and our treatment of veterans, marital infidelity, white supremacy, business ethics, transparency and the eternally insoluble question of whether money can buy happiness, or, as The Beatles parsed it, can it buy love?

The Great Gatsby is considered by many to be a contender for the title of The Great American Novel, and it has been transformed into several memorable, lavish films over the ensuing decades, most recently by director Baz Luhrmann in 2013 starring Leonardo DiCaprio, and by Francis Ford Coppola in 1974, with Robert Redford in the title role.

To rise to the challenge of the greatness of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby” director Henderson began with the only stage adaptation authorized and granted exclusive rights by the Fitzgerald Estate.

But then he immediately upped the ante by enlisting the talents of trumpeter and composer Mark Rapp as musical director (for a non-musical!) who brought original jazz music with the 5 piece on-stage combo ColaJazz. Henderson also brought aboard a crew of dancers from Columbia City Ballet, choreographed by Stephanie Wilkins, to portray the frenzied flappers at Gatsby’s legendary decadent parties.

Working with technical director Richard Kiraly, Henderson designed a simplified high-tech set of large projection screens to portray orgiastic jazz age parties, great halls filled with marble statuary, the streets of 1920s New York, a hydroplane rocketing over the ocean waves, Gatsby’s swimming pool, and of course the iconic eyes-and-eyeglasses sign advertising the wares of an oculist, standing in for the eyes of a judgmental God. The scenery can change with breathtaking speed and realism. Sound effects blend seamlessly with the constantly shifting locales and even special effects. Costumed members of the ensemble add or subtract furniture pieces in character as the finishing touches to each scene.

Both sides of the stage are framed by open quadrangles lined in incandescent bulbs, suggesting both a theatre marquee and the open covers of a book, out of which the story leaps.

The show starts with a stunning and unexpected spotlight vocal solo by one of the cast members singing a modern hit ballad that has been interpolated into the script. During the course of the show, other cast members step up to the ColaJazz microphone to sing musical commentary upon the drama unfolding on stage. This reviewer will leave no further spoilers as to the singers’ identities or the choice of songs, so as to maximize the surprising spontaneity for the audience.

In every rendition of “Gatsby” my favorite character winds up being Fitzgerald’s narrator, Nick Carraway, and he is ably brought to life by Jared-Rogers Martin. Fitzgerald’s prose flows clearly and gently from his voice, and he brings the wide-eyed earnestness of a young man from Minnesota to the mansions of the corrupt, lustful, and fabulously wealthy Long Island elites.

Jason Stokes brings broad-shouldered good looks and a resonant baritone voice to the title role, and is at once confident and forlorn. His tender infatuation for Daisy Fay Buchanan, played by Katie Leitner with a spoiled sensuality and tortured despair, drives all events in this drama. Richard Edward III is Daisy’s abusive, adulterous lout of a husband, Tom Buchanan, who also abuses his mistress Myrtle Wilson, played expertly and with earthy emotion by Raia Jane Hirsch. Brandon Chinn gives us Myrtle’s cuckolded garage mechanic husband, George Wilson, with a homespun pathos that masks his deeper moral code. The plum role of professional golfer Jordan Baker, Daisy’s long-time sardonic girlfriend, who later becomes Nick’s tempting girlfriend is played with layered subtlety and empowered command by Brittany Hammock. She is Fitzgerald’s acknowledgement of the evolving role of women in the 20th century. Elizabeth Houck, LaTrell Brennan, Josh Kern and Frank Thompson complete the acting ensemble with memorable performances in multiple roles, particularly Thompson’s shadowy criminal version of Meyer Wolfsheim, Kern’s flawless butler, Houck’s gossipy socialite and Brennan’s crystal clear exposition.

What sets this performance apart from others you might see on the local stage is the addition of music and dance to the production. While not a musical, per se, Britanny Hammock and Katie Leitner’s bonus vocal numbers accompanied by Rapp and band are exquisite, haunting audience members into the night. And Stephanie Wilkins’ choreography, set specifically on City Ballet principal dancers Bonnie Boiter-Jolley and Claire Rapp, along with Jordan Hawkins, Marian Morgan, and Katherine Brady, is a step above in terms of the professionalism typically brought to a local stage. Wilkins researched the dance styles of the period and incorporated elements of everything from the Foxtrot to the Black Bottom to the Lindy Hop in her choreography. The dancers blended well with the actors and created a large but well-managed multi-talented ensemble of performers.

(Full disclosure - Boiter-Jolley and Henderson are the daughter and son-in-law of Jasper editor Cindi Boiter.)

This is a “Gatsby” unlike any other you will see anywhere else, and it is here for only a brief time, ending April 27. The Sunday matinee audience honored the performance with a standing ovation. Waste no time reserving your tickets at www.trustus.org or call the box office at (803) 254-9732.

Trustus Theatre is located in Columbia’s Congaree Vista at 520 Lady Street.

REVIEW: Trustus Theatre's Cost Of Living is An Acting Tour-De-Force With Diverse And Talented Cast

Pictured Ellen Rodillo-Fowler and Bauer Wesetren - photo courtesy of Trustus Theatre

In his pre-show welcoming speech, Trustus Theatre’s Artistic Director, Chad Henderson, spoke briefly about a few of the production requirements listed in the contract for playwright Martnya Majok’s Cost Of Living. According to Henderson, the script and stage directions strongly suggest that actors with disabilities are to be cast in the roles of Jon (Bauer Westeren) and Ani (Kathy LaLima.) Trustus’ professional commitment to inclusivity is well-known, as is their mission to tackle new and innovative work, which made theirs the perfect stage upon which to present this 2018 Pulitzer Prize-winning play. In their bios, both Westeren and LaLima mention life with spina bifida and Multiple Sclerosis, respectively, and each expresses gratitude for the opportunity to perform onstage. Cost Of Living shows that the footlights are meant to shine on both of them, and will hopefully encourage more performers who, for whatever reason, think full-length shows are “not for them” to re-think that notion.

Director Paul Kaufmann delivers his traditional textured and subtly reinforced thematic consistency and “world-creating” to the production, with a solid eye for casting. The script involves two pairs of people, each pair in a unique relationship, with sufficient parallels to the companion story to allow them to come together at the end without seeming forced. There’s no deus ex machina involved, although one is gently teased before being revealed as a false hope

The two stories are straightforward and relatively simple in terms of plot, and are told through alternating scenes with only one or two jumps in time. We first meet Eddie (Eric Bultman), sitting alone in a bar. The first scene is an extended monologue, casting the audience member in the role of the sympathetic listener. In a riveting spotlight moment, Bultman immediately spellbinds the room with a tale of tragedy and hope. His sincerity never falters, whether he’s on the verge of tears or cracking up at one of his many one-liners, including “the shit that happens is not to be understood…that’s in the Bible.” This Biblical reference is explained through the mention of the many lonely nights Eddie has spent on the road as a long-distance truck driver. “Motels give you certain feelings,” Eddie muses, “and that’s why they’re all full of Bibles.” Though he’s often been tempted, Eddie has remained (mostly) faithful to his wife, who we now assume to be deceased. After a slightly cryptic discussion of said wife, Eddie reveals that he no longer consumes alcohol, having overcome a drinking problem, yet offers to buy his unseen companion a drink every time he “gets gloomy.” These moments of abrupt transition between contemplative malaise and forced jocularity give Bultman the chance to display his acting skills as well as an impressive storyteller’s ability to mesmerize the listener. Rich and full of character, his speaking voice does the heavy lifting in the opener, setting a tone that sustains through his work opposite his scene partners. (To avoid bouncing between the two plotlines, I’ll tell the stories in linear fashion.)

Following a mention of how his wife used to text him little notes every day, Eddie reveals that he has been recently receiving new daily texts, which obviously leaves him a bit confused. These mystery messages have drawn him to the bar, where he is awaiting his new correspondent, who fails to show. In a moment both hilarious and heartbreaking, Eddie asks the audience if “a ghost ever stood you up?”

In what we assume to be a flashback sequence, Eddie gets his wife, Ani, settled into an accessible apartment, and we find that their relationship is on the skids. Having shattered her spine in a car crash, Ani is full of rage and resentment toward Eddie, with substantial justification. (As always, I will try and keep spoilers to a minimum.) LaLima’s Ani may be unable to move most of her body, but she has lost none of what we can assume to have been a long-established spitfire personality full of wit and no-nonsense realism. As with Bultman’s bar scene, LaLima’s reaction to the new normal of her life takes her from depression to hilarity to arch sarcasm, always with a metaphorical (and occasionally literal) arched eyebrow. Eddie wishes to comfort her, subsequently offering to act as her caretaker. Though estranged, they are still technically married for insurance purposes, and Eddie reasons that he is the obvious person for the job. She finally consents, and the unspoken between them shouts volumes, allowing plot points to reveal themselves in their own good time. LaLima is both wounded and defiant, subtly driving home the fact that people with disabilities are far from helpless. In one of the show’s most touching scenes, she shares a cigarette with Eddie while he helps her take a bath. The very basics of human touch and the emotions it can evoke are beautifully illustrated with minimal dialogue. Any given moment of the production could have left a few audience members in tears, but this particular one, I suspect, had the entire space softly crying as a single unit. Not to be overly flowery, but in that few minutes, we in the seats experienced a collective emotional response. Joy, grief, and hope are component parts, but I’m not sure there is a single word to define the specific feeling we shared. Kudos to LaLima and Bultman for a story well-told, and for a scene of absolute magic.

In the other story, wealthy and cynical John is introduced as he interviews his potential new caretaker, Jess (Ellen Rodillo-Fowler.) Erudite and sophisticated, John is puzzled as to why a tough-talking, streetwise bartender with a degree from Princeton wants such a physically demanding and time-consuming job. Jess is visibly nervous, and Rodillo-Fowler adds several layers of discomfort which deftly inform the audience that she is a woman with secrets to keep and a desperate need for extra income. John is sardonic and somewhat suspicious, but eventually agrees to give Jess a chance. In a scene involving John’s first bath from Jess, Westeren and Rodillo-Fowler offer an alternate set of circumstances to the Eddie/Ani bathtub scene, playing Jess’ uncertainty with the situation and John’s dry responses for some well-timed comic relief. Each scene establishes a new intimacy between caregiver and caretaker, and begin to inspire introspection as to which character is in the power position at any given point. Rodillo-Fowler is well-known to Trustus audiences as a versatile and talented performer, and first-timer Westeren has no apparent difficulty in matching her dramatic and comedic capacities. Clearly at ease onstage and gifted with a stinging sense of delivery reminiscent of Hugh Laurie’s House, I hope and expect to see much more of Westeren in upcoming seasons at Trustus and elsewhere.

By the story’s end, each pair has suffered ups and downs, moments of closeness, a scene of great danger, and one so full of simultaneous sadness and happy anticipation it drew audible gasps at Saturday night’s performance. (Not going to spoil the surprise, but in a superb second-act twist, a misunderstanding leads to one hell of a reveal.)

Brandon McIver’s scenic design and projections are understated and functional, allowing for smooth transitions and more than one multi-use section of playing space. We know exactly where we are at all times, but the design never gets in the way of the story. Frank Kiraly’s lighting design works quite well alongside the set, sometimes using what appears to be but a single instrument to create a locale. One moment that particularly stands out is Rodillo-Fowler’s anxiety-filled phone call to her mother, who lives in the Philippines. (A special nod to Rodillo-Fowler’s ability to convey every emotion and meaning in Jess’ monologue, spoken entirely in Tagalog.) Kiraly has given her the simplest of top-lit streetlight motifs, and the effect is a keen visual representation of the isolation Jess feels. Sound Designer Patrick Michael Kelly embraces the subtlety of running/dripping water as a connecting concept, and allows it to reinforce the overall piece without ever intruding on the point of focus.

Cost Of Living continues its run Thursday through Saturday, with two performances on Saturday, and the show is selling out quickly. Don’t miss your opportunity to experience this timely, contemplative, laugh riot/heartbreaker of an evening in the Trustus Side Door Theatre.

Frank Thompson is proud to serve as Theatre Editor for JASPER.

REVIEW: Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Frank Thompson

There are good kids, there are bad kids…and then there are the Herdman kids. Between community theatre and school productions, most of us are at least passingly familiar with The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, which has long been a holiday staple for young theatre-goers and their parents. It’s a simple tale about a church Christmas pageant which finds itself with a family of uncontrollable hellions in the cast, the less-than-enthusiastic reception they get from the parish, and the travails of a young boy named Charlie Bradley, who despairs at the invasion of the “horrible Herdman” kids into the one place he has always felt safe from them. Along the way, Charlie and his family deal with all the usual Yuletide hustle and bustle, exacerbated greatly by Charlie’s mother, Grace, being roped into directing the show when the original director suffers a broken leg. (I guess she took the traditional “good luck” wish for theatre people a bit too seriously.) It’s a charming little play, which Columbia Children’s Theatre has taken to a new level of engagement and fun by presenting the relatively-new musical version. Director Jerry Stevenson has assembled a tight, well-rehearsed production that retains the sweet simplicity of the original, while adding a glossy layer of professionalism and energy to what could have all too easily been simply another staging of a holiday chestnut. Having directed the non-musical version myself, I can say without hesitation that the revised musical version is livelier and the characters are more developed and three-dimensional. Stevenson and Musical Director Paul Lindley II have obviously cast thoughtfully, with an eye for acting and an ear for singing, complimented by Lisa Sendler’s energetic and creative choreography. Housed in their new location, (still at Richland Mall, but in a much bigger space downstairs, next door to Barnes & Noble) CCT has more room than before to create an impressive set, complete with hinged flats and moving pieces. Kudos to Scenic Artists Jim Litzinger (who serves double duty as Sound Technician,) Sallie Best, Dawn Cone, Gresham Poole, and Alex Walton, whose design combines a dollhouse’s functionality with a Transformers-style “coolness” factor. The perennial CCT duo of Litzinger and Stevenson both wear multiple hats, as Stevenson, along with Donna Harvey, have assembled a delightful costume plot in which a soupcon of each character is reflected in his or her clothing. The expression “a well-oiled machine” may be cliché, but it describes this production perfectly. From the seasoned pros in the cast to the first-timers, there is never a moment of hesitation or uncertainty, yet the audience is led quite successfully to believe that the events of the show are taking place for the first time, with believable moments of surprise and legitimate responses to the events surrounding them.

Much of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever’s success can likely be attributed to CCT’s education program, which is quite clearly providing quality instruction to the next generation of stage performers. To put it simply, these guys (cast and production team) know what they’re doing, and do it well.

In what is pretty much an ensemble piece, it is difficult to single out specific actors and moments as standouts, but there are a few. Many of the roles are double-cast, but I strongly suspect the cast I enjoyed at last Saturday’s 2:00pm performance is indicative of the other cast’s aplomb. In both casts, the role of kindly but frazzled Reverend Hopkins is played by CCT regular, Lee O. Smith, who brings his customary goofy jollity to the role while managing to work in several moments of pastoral sincerity. Jordan Harper is hilariously shrill and shrewish as the injured Helen Armstrong, who manages to assert/insert herself into the proceedings, leaving gentle, non-confrontational Grace to try and direct around Helen’s many suggestions and unwanted “advice.” (I especially enjoyed Stage Manager Mary Miles’uncredited silent role as Helen’s nurse. Having seen Miles as the pretty young ingénue in multiple productions around town, it was a hoot to watch her channel One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’s scowling Nurse Ratchet.) Despite her character’s passive demeanor, Grace (Courtney Reasoner) gets the opportunity to show off not only her celebrated singing voice, but also a set of acting chops that one seldom finds in younger actors. Along with Henry Melkomian’s Charlie, Sara Jackson’s Beth, and (again, a double-duty pro) Paul Lindley II’s Bob, Grace helps to create a family unit quite reminiscent of the Parkers in A Christmas Story (minus the leg lamp and turkey-snatching Bumpus hounds.) This wink to the film is quite subtle, as are several other in-joke homages to other shows. (I couldn’t suppress a guffaw at Smith’s most frantic moment, when his voice rose two octaves while he ran and flailed his arms in what had to have been a tribute to Kermit the Frog.) Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol is referenced, and when all the kids join together to stop the Herdmans from stealing Charlie’s lunch, the steady echo of “take mine!” conjured images of The Hunger Games “I volunteer!” protectiveness. (BTW, the “This Is A Peanut-Free Zone” sign was a nice touch of verisimilitude which immediately established the grade-school lunchroom.)

As for the Herdman kids, (Sarah Krawczyk, Julian Deleon, Annie Varner, Baker Morrison, Cort Stevenson, and Will Varner) each has a spotlight moment or two, but function mostly as a group. At first, this bunch is more of a gang of scroungy street toughs than a set of siblings, yet by the end of the show they have become part of the church family, and seem destined for at least semi-respectability. This transformation always seemed a bit deus ex machina in the non-musical, but an added scene in this version shows us the Herdman home, which is a place of hunger and squalor, with a deceased father and an oft-absent mother who works multiple jobs to (barely) keep the family afloat. When the kids sing in awe over a charity basket of simple food, the audience gets not only an insight to their unhappy lives, but also an explanation for their bad behaviour. To use one of my favourite portmanteau words, the poor urchins are “hangry” most of the time, and have little adult attention or guidance. The gift of food touches their hearts while filling their tummies, which makes the motivation for their softening more understandable.

The score is eclectic and fun, and no matter what your musical tastes may be, you’ll love at least a couple of the songs, which vary in style throughout. (With numbers ranging from country to rock-n-roll to classic musical theatre, and beyond, there’s something for everyone, much in the style of Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.) I particularly enjoyed the Doo-Wop 1950s-esque “Take The Job, Grace” and “The Telephone Call,” which could have easily been composed by Lerner and Loewe. Among the handful of adults in the cast are a trio of Church Ladies, who become a quartet when Harper gets the Christmas spirit and lends her outstanding voice to those of Carol Beis, Jill Peltzman, and Kristin Young for a spirited gospel number. Their harmonies are tight, and there’s clearly not a weak singer amongst them.

Stevenson has included several “total immersion” moments, with actors entering and exiting through the aisles, and at one point handing out mini candy canes to the real-life audience, which serves as the church’s congregation. (Having stopped for a coffee on my way to the show, I was especially pleased to receive a peppermint treat.)

With expanded chair-seating for grown-ups and a larger floor-seating area for the little ones, CCT has successfully grown without losing any of the informal warmth of the previous upstairs venue. Stevenson, as usual, greeted the audience with a warm welcoming speech before the show, which always kicks off CCT performances on a cheerful note and informs the audience of upcoming events. (If you have a school-aged daughter who would like to learn stage combat, a class called “Girls Fight” is being offered in the spring.)

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever: The Musical may never sit alongside A Christmas Carol or The Nutcracker as an immortal holiday classic, but if you’re looking for a fun, upbeat, joyful show for the whole family, head on down to Richland Mall for a sweet confection of a show put on by a dedicated and skilled group of artists. (Tell ‘em the Herdmans sent you.)

Frank Thompson is proud to serve as Theatre Editor for JASPER, and can be contacted at FLT31230@Yahoo.com

Meet New Jasper Intern Hallie Hayes and Read her First Review of Foxing's New Album, Nearer My God

Hi! I'm Hallie Hayes, a new editorial intern for The Jasper Project. I am a Junior at The University of South Carolina majoring in Multimedia Journalism, where I hope to start a career in an entertainment editorial position post-graduation. Coming from the small town of Pamplico, South Carolina, I am proud to have found my way to the talented city of Columbia where local art is appreciated. My first true love is poetry, but my passion lies in the music, arts, and entertainment industries. You will be hearing a lot from me along these lines of subjects. I look forward to exploring the talent found in this city with The Jasper Project and sharing that with you!

Hallie Hayes

For those who have followed the band Foxing through their first two albums, the wait for the third record has been long and highly anticipated. The indie-rock band from St. Louis, Missouri has a fan base that has hung onto their moody melodies, in-your-thoughts lyrics and most importantly, their experimental bravery. As the third album has released, there is one thing that is known for certain: experiment they did.

Nearer My God was released on August 10, 2018, and it is a far fetch from the bands prior records, The Albatross and Dealer. Foxing’s prior two records gave fans the self-proclaimed emo hits that the band would become known for. The unique rasp of lead singer Conor Murphy’s voice mixed with soft indie rock tones delivered track after track. The band keeps the moody undertones that fans love, mixing in their own versions of R&B and electro-rock, giving the album a unique twist. Unafraid to mix two genres into one track, in songs like “Heartbeat,” the band begins with a classic instrumental style and transitions into an electro-rock ballad.

While Foxing’s first two albums gave us first tracks that are slowed down; almost acoustic, listeners receive a much different take with this album. Nearer My God gives us a first track, “Grand Paradise,” that unexpectedly jumps right into the newly experimental electro-rock instrumental style. It is a bit of an initial shock, but that’s fine. It shows the diversity of the band and their attempt to open new sounds for their fans, while keeping old habits.

With their second track, “Slapstick,” the band gives us a sound that combines upbeat electro instrumental music with a low indie-rock tones. They continue to transition their songs in this manner throughout the album. Moving from upbeat, to ballads, to a mixture of R&B with a touch of post-rock. At the same time, however, fans are still given the moody, intimate lyrics that were first brought by the band in tracks such as “Trapped in Dillard’s,” “Nearer My God” and “Crown Candy.”

The one consistency throughout the album is that everything is different. The ability to experiment with multiple different resonances is what makes this album a masterpiece. It is like nothing that has been heard from the indie-rock band.

Foxing took chances with this album, and it was a chance that truly worked for them and their sound. This is an album for those seeking something new, different, and truly innovative.

REVIEW: Flight at USC is a Needed Addition to American History and Drama

"We are weightless and unbound by gravity ..."

Flight, conceived and directed by Steve Pearson and written by Robyn Hunt, is not an easy play. To start with, it is an historical drama exploring a subject about which little history has been written. Its fictional characters, who lived lives split between the theatrical stage and the aviation hangar, are based loosely on actual female aviation pioneers whose lives were similarly fragmented. Add to this a deep thematic attachment to the work of Anton Chekov, and top it with a singular character whose place in time and space is hard to peg, and the result is nothing less than a study in complexity. But bear with the play’s construct, lean into its sometimes surprising interludes into dance and theatrics, stay with the play, and, ultimately, the viewer is delivered a simple and straightforward message, which is this: Though women are remembered too often for the performative work they do, (and there is a performative nature to far too much of the work of women), it is the unlauded milestones women have made—the ones accomplished when they were not being watched, critiqued, or directed—that have produced the greatest resonance, not just for the individual women themselves, but for humanity writ large.

A production of the University of SC Department of Theatre and Dance, Flight is making its second appearance in Columbia. First presented in 2009 by department professors Pearson and Hunt, Flight took wing on a national tour during which its script was tightened and refined by the playwright Hunt. It returns to Columbia this month with some of the original cast who also served as original researchers into the history and culture of women in aviation upon which the play is based.

The story of two French actress/aviators and a similarly ground-breaking woman documentarian, Flight takes the audience into an airline hangar in which the women appear to be constructing a plane in preparation for a trailblazing flight from Paris to Moscow. In fact, over the course of the play, the actors actually (re)assemble a ¾ scale replica of an early monoplane called the Bleriot XI, (previously hand-fashioned by Pearson). Always in motion, Madeleine, played by Gabriela Castillo, and Sophie, played by Kimberly Gaughan, create strong supporting roles for one another as their characters are juxtaposed in disposition and delivery, with Gaughan as intensely restrained—think tempered drama just below the surface of her character’s personality—as Castillo is light and optimistic. These women require no sympathy, despite the unaccommodating culture in which they work and live. They are empowered by their own dignity and dedication to their science. Gaughan and Castillo do their characters ample justice and should be proud of their work.

As the documentarian Alisse, playwright Hunt lends a diligent gentility to her character—so composed, so professional in the face of adversity—and her blending of the kind of maturity one can only admire with her easy manipulation of the stage, floating in and out of the machinations of filmmaking and the cultural machinations of womanhood are deliberate and nuanced.

Eric Bultman plays the part of the oft aloft Jean Luc, a prescient and somewhat ethereal combination of mystic and mechanic who seems to represent not only science but a more benevolent patriarchy than the one in which the women operate, offering a fluid form of interactive narration that has a grounding effect for the audience. Bultman is inordinately well-suited for the authoritative presence his character demands and, particularly in his tango with Hunt, which seems to so beautifully marry science to art, exhibits an easy command of the stage.

In the role of Gerard, a good-natured compatriot of the women from the theatre, Nicolas Stewart faces challenges in displaying a sense of comfort with his character’s physical form, lacking variability from the easy-going persona to which he so frequently returns. Still, there is much to look forward to in this young actor’s future.

The gradual materialization of an almost full-sized airplane on the stage aside, the rest of the set, also created by Pearson, is sparse but strong, exhibiting a captivating design element in its color and texture. Even more engaging is the costuming of the characters, designed by Lisa Martin-Stuart and Kristy Hall, which makes no apparent concessions to convenience or cost in the adherence to authenticity. It is satisfying to see period costuming so thoroughly implemented with no tell-tale signs of the 21st century sneaking out from around the edges.  A light and lovely score accompanies the play’s progress.

It is cliché to say that Flight reminds us of how far we have come yet how far we still need to go, but it must be said. These powerful characters leave us with the optimistic words that we, as women, are weightless and unbound by gravity. But until we transcend, or at a minimum reconfigure, the performance of womanhood as culture demands it, we may never fully get off the ground.

Flight is at the Center for Performance Experiment and runs through April 29th.

Cindi Boiter is the executive director of the Jasper Project and editor of Jasper Magazine.

REVIEW: Columbia Classical Ballet's Don Q - by Susan Lenz

 

Audience Needed

I’d been looking forward to Friday’s one-night-only performance of Don Quixote by Columbia Classical Ballet all season, especially after seeing portions of it during last month’s Studio Series preview. Why? Well, I’ve only seen the full ballet once. 

It was a long time ago, 2005, but a very memorable experience. The Bolshoi, accompanied by its own orchestra, came to Wolf Trap theater outside Washington, DC. At the time, world renown Alexei Ratmansky was the artistic director. Many consider him the best choreographer working in the world today. He’s a MacArthur fellow and current artist-in-residence with American Ballet Theater in NYC. Ratmansky was trained at the Bolshoi, the company for which Don Quixote was originally choreographed back in 1869 by ballet's greatest classicist Marius Petipa. Most performances today are based on Alexander Gorsky’s derivative 1900 choreography, but that was for the Bolshoi too. So, Don Quixote by the Bolshoi, I can pretty much say that I once saw “the best of the best”.

Don Quixote is performed in either three or four acts with at least eight scenes of bravura, emotionally charged character dancing, flashy use of fans and capes, a hot Mediterranean aura, and a pumped-up score by Leon Minkus. The story comes from episodes found in Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote de a Mancha, a tale of unattainable humanity, chivalric romance, and the impossible dream of justice. In the ballet, The Man of LaMancha is really part of the background. The innkeepers’ flirtatious daughter Kitri and her love, Basilio, are are center stage. The ballet is full of humor and lots of variations for the casts’ female dancers plus one of the most frequently performance full pas de deux. That’s why I know the ballet so well.

Over the years, I’ve seen parts of this ballet literally hundreds of times. There are at least six female variations performed in international competitions and the wedding scene is generally on every gala program. Odds are, if you’ve been to Columbia Classical Ballet’s annual LifeChance gala, you’ve seen part of the production as well. Thus, when I say Friday night’s performance was wonderful, trust me!  You should have been there! It was undoubtedly the best ballet performance in Columbia this season.

Radenko Pavlovich, Columbia Classical Ballet’s artistic director, should be rightfully proud of his talented company. They were so good that even the few flaws were wonderful. A fan was dropped but the dancer showed no sign of concern. She waited for the perfect moment to pick it up, as if the accident was part of the choreography. Dancing to canned music sometimes causes problems too. There are variations in which the movement begins before the music. With an orchestra, the conductor is to watch the dancer and know precisely when to bring down the baton. With canned music, timing is tricky, not always perfect. A missed cue happened, but I doubt most in the audience knew. The dancer in question was so well rehearsed that he was flawlessly back with the music within seconds. 

The highlight of the evening was watching Nao Omoya as Kitri. Not only is she a technically brilliant dancer who makes every move look effortless but she’s a lovely actress. Her energy seemed to increase with the physical demands of the ballet. Her double fouettés in the final coda were world-class. Koyo Yanagishima partnered her beautifully and his boyish charm was evident throughout.

Now, I know there were lots of other cultural events going on last night, including another opportunity to see dance. But, it is a shame that every seat in the Koger Center wasn’t filled. This was a performance that deserved a full house and a standing ovation. I left the theater wondering about Don Quixote’s unattainable quest for chivalry and a better, more just world. In Columbia, dance companies have their own unattainable quest:  finding an audience to fill the seats. I was happy to occupy one, and I hope my previews and review for Jasper Project might assist in awareness for local dance and filling seats in the future because occasionally, like last night, Columbia’s audience has a chance to see “the best of the best” right here in the Midlands.

REVIEW: A Bright Room Called Day by Frank Thompson

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was

the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the

epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the

season  of  Light,  it  was  the  season  of  Darkness,  it  was  the 

spring  of  hope,  it  was  the  winter  of  despair,  we  had 

everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were

all  going  direct  to  Heaven,  we  were  all  going  direct  the 

other way—in short, the period was so far like the present

period…”

-Charles Dickens

“A Tale Of Two Cities”

   After seeing Trustus Theatre’s production of A Bright Room Called Day on opening night, I have made it a point to “talk up” the show as much as possible, but (with sincere regret) I have just now been able to write a review. With all due apologies and a promise not to make a habit of late-posting, I would like to now offer my thoughts on what may be the most riveting show I’ve seen at Trustus since August: Osage County, a couple of seasons ago. There are two remaining performances, Friday and Saturday, 2 and 3 February. In brief, you need to see one (or both) of them.

   While a completely different show in almost every way, A Bright Room Called Day does have a quite literal kinship with its predecessor. August: Osage County was the last show directed at Trustus by its beloved founder, the late Jim Thigpen, and his daughter, Erin Wilson, masterfully directs A Bright Room Called Day. This is the first of Wilson’s work I have seen, and it’s quite clear that both her professional training and the lessons she no doubt learned at the knee of her father have come together to create an insightful, skilled directorial eye and style all her own. Wilson’s attention to the small details of movement and human interaction in a confined space creates a pleasantly cozy feeling in the early scenes, which slowly morphs into a trapped, claustrophobic aura by the end of the performance. (Ironically, as fewer people occupy the room, it seems to grow smaller and more prisonlike.) 

   Pulitzer-winning playwright Tony Kushner wrote A Bright Room Called Day in the 1980s, outraged at then-President Reagan for his (Reagan’s) lack of any apparent concern over the AIDS crisis. (Indeed, Reagan is invoked in the modern-day side story that serves as a point of comment on the main story. More on that in a moment.)

   Though Reagan was the bete noir when the show was penned, Wilson has, without changing the script, clearly suggested that we examine the politics of 2018 and what’s going on all around us. The story, while interesting, is an oft-told one. A group of what might well have been called “undesirables” share good times together, only to be divided both philosophically and literally by the rise of The Third Reich. The scenes set in early 1932 could easily have been played in a contemporary 2016. Liberalism seems firmly established, there’s toasting and optimism (the show opens on a New Year’s Eve celebration), and the charmingly eccentric group of characters we meet are leading happy, bohemian lives and freely share their common views as well as their disagreements without rancor. There’s an opium-addicted film star, a devout Communist, a homosexual man-about-town, a one-eyed film-maker, and a seemingly meek actress of lesser fame, who owns the apartment and revels in their company.
 

   As the scenes and time progress, we sense a growing feeling of unease as Germany begins to undergo a multitude of bad decisions and changes for the worse. Through dialogue and a positively masterful use of projected titles, we follow the Nazi party’s initial defeats, its growing influence, and President von Hindenburg’s eventual hesitant appointment of Adolf Hitler as Chancellor. From there begins the inevitable unraveling of the social fabric, both large-scale and among the small circle of leftists who inhabit the small apartment.

   Without beating the metaphor to death, or even mentioning his name, the “Trump as Hitler” theme rings loud and clear, speaking not only to the skills of the director and cast, but also to the timelessness of Kushner’s script. The 1930s scenes are intercut with a series of 1980s monologues by a young woman of high-school age (remember the side story?), who writes daily hate-mail letters to President Reagan, and offers a great deal of commentary that is just as applicable today as it was in the days of The Love Boat and the Commodore 64 computer.

   The second act brings to the forefront the horrors of Berlin in the early 1930s. The Reichstag fire, book-burnings, and the official opening of Dachau are mentioned, one of the characters suffers a beating, another essentially chooses to collaborate, still another flees for his safety, and Agnes, the owner of the flat, wonders aloud if she will ever leave.

   There are also other visitors to the apartment, none terribly welcome. A pair of friendly-but-don’t-push-us bureaucrats visit Agnes to “encourage” her to rethink her upcoming performance of a skit involving a “Red Baby”, complete with painted baby doll to emphasize the message. There can be tremendous intimidation in ersatz kindness and calm, and the actors in these roles convey just that.

   The story takes two turns toward surrealism in the characters of Die Alte (which, thank you Google, translates to “the old” or “the ancient”) and Gottfried Swetts, who just happens to be Satan. As the representatives of the otherworldly, each is clearly defined as unique in the reality of the main story. Die Alte is wraithlike, eerie, and seems to move freely about within the darkness. Swetts, by contrast, is dressed spiffily in an expensive-looking suit and topcoat. (A word to the wise: don’t pet the Devil’s dog.) At first the inclusion of these characters seemed out-of-place to me, but upon further reflection, what could be more appropriate than vaguely malevolent absurdity in a play about a historically significant collapse of reason and sanity?

   By now you have probably noticed that I haven’t mentioned any actors by name. That’s because director Wilson and her team have produced an almost-flawless piece of ensemble theatre by a cast of top-tier performers. There is no “standout” because this group contains no weak links. The roles are superbly cast, and the chemistry amongst them is clear. Therefore, I offer my congratulations and unfettered praise to Krista Forster, Jonathan Monk, Jennifer Hill, Becky Hunter, Alex Smith, Mary Miles, Frederic Powers, Elena Martinez-Vidal, Paul Kaufmann, and Avery Bateman. Each of you truly disappeared into your characters.

   Danny Harrington does a commendable job with the set, somehow making a pre-war German flat and a 1980s classroom cohesively exist on the same stage. In what may or may not have been a deliberate choice, one of the paintings on Agnes’ wall is partially obscured by what seems to indicate either fallen plaster or water damage. This image spoke strongly to me, and seemed an apt representation of how none of the characters, from the most innocent to the most evil, ever seemed to grasp the larger issues, or “see the whole picture” if you will.

   With one final apology for being so late in turning in my homework, I strongly encourage anyone who hasn’t yet seen A Bright Room Called Day to catch one of the two remaining performances. You’ll leave thinking.

Reviewer Frank Thompson