What Are You Reading?

Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72

by Dr. Hunter S. Thompson

Reviewed by Matthew O’Leary

In the midst of the insanity of the election cycle and the pandemic, I’m reading Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72, by Hunter S. Thompson. It’s about the 1972 elections, focusing first on the Democratic primaries, and then on George McGovern’s ill-fated attempt to unseat Richard Nixon. Thompson is in Washington writing these updates for Rolling Stone, and though it’s certainly not as batshit and drug-fueled as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, his voice, and its refusal to pretend to be impartial, keep the narrative going, even when we know it doesn’t have a happy ending.

At the beginning of each month, I read the same section from the book, so I’ll be doing this well into the next year. This is my second time reading it, and my personal favorite part is reading about Thomas Eagleton, who was picked for McGovern’s VP, but was thrown under the bus when his past history of depression was revealed. Personally, I get a little bit of comfort from knowing that while our current circumstances are pretty rough, the process of elections hasn’t really changed all that much, for better or worse. At least George Wallace is dead.

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What are you reading? Not only does Jasper want to know but it seems like every other person on social media wants to know, too.

Maybe we can help.

Send your most recent book review to JasperProjectColumbia@gmail.com with “JASPER READS” in the subject line and the title and author of your book in the body along with your own quick and dirty review.

You can review your book anonymously or you can share your name and possibly inspire an online book discussion. The point is to share thoughts and viewpoints, turn other folks onto what you’ve been reading, and maybe take away a tip for the next book you want to read yourself.

Remember: We’re not looking for academic or professional reviews or anything fancy at all, although academics and professionals are invited to submit, as are butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers and everyone in between. If you’re worried about your writing our editors will try our best to tidy up any little messes and sprinkle fairy dust on anything that needs a little love

Need some help putting your review together? Fill in the blanks for any or all of the following statements:

• I recommend this book for people who like ___________.

  (Examples: adventure, romance, intrigue, travel, horror, LGBTQ+ lit, feminist lit, non-fiction, sports, essays, poetry, biographies, drama, history, historical fiction, fiction, period pieces, foreign stories, mystery, comedy, YA, prize-winning, your descriptor here.)

• If you liked ___________, you'll like this book.

• This book is about a ____ who _____ and ____ ensued.

• This story takes place (where) ____________ and (when) _________.

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• The main character(s) is/are _________________________. (Need help? Were they charming, annoying, sexy, smart, adventurous, clever, crazy, looking for trouble – no need for fancy descriptors, just tell us about these people we’ll be spending pages with.)

• While I liked/disliked the book my mom/partner/bff would hate/love it because ___________. 

• Or just use your own words — as few or as many as you want. 

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REVIEW: Kirk Hammett's It's Alive! at Columbia Museum of Art - by Christofer Cook

Hammett’s Panoply of Genre Treasures a Delightful Submersion into the Dark Fantastic

Merchant of menace, Vincent Price, once opined; “I trust people who are violent about art as long as they aren’t closed-minded. But, unfortunately, most art blowhards are also art bigots”. Price’s position on such observers suggests that the art world is forever infested with subjective perspectives on its ever-changing product. These so-called critics do nothing but praise that which they like and denigrate that which they find distasteful, gauche, sophomoric. But the real challenge is to seek the beauty, skillful craftsmanship, and precision within a work whose subject matter may very well be anathema to the beholding eye.

Thankfully, horror aficionados remain undaunted by their naysayers. These bastions of blood become impervious to criticism and continue to amass works of art that represent the absolute best of the macabre and the fantastique. Perhaps no one exemplifies these purveyors of genre art more so than Kirk Hammett, lead guitarist of those meisters of metal, Metallica. Hammett’s collection of horror and sci-fi movie props, costumes, and memorabilia has gradually and insidiously taken over his San Francisco home like the creeping crud in George Romero’s The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verill, based on Stephen King’s Weeds. In Hammett’s case, though, his growing horde is not an organic pestilence, rather it is a miscellany of fine objects d’arte.

An exhibit of Hammett’s select acquisitions can be viewed through May 17th at the Columbia Museum of Art in Columbia, South Carolina. It is an adventure through a portal of spellbinding wonder the moment one steps inside. We are first impacted by an immediate blast of visual splendor. Just beyond the gallery’s glass doors, welcoming us to the experience, is a mammoth title card in rich, vivid colors. It is the identical illustration that graces the cover of Hammett’s latest book by the same name; IT’S ALIVE! Classic Horror and Sci-Fi Posters from the Kirk Hammett collection.

The image is a nostalgic throwback to the pre-code era of the comic book covers of yesteryear. These dog-eared horrors in four colors were often secreted between the mattress covers of millions of American acne-ridden kids we now affectionately refer to as “monster kids”. The gargantuan signage prepares us for the terrors adorning the gallery walls beyond—an antediluvian cemetery features from end to end. In the foreground, an undead arm bathed in crimson light breaks through its terrestrial bonds. Worms crawl, wriggling about the extremity. In a show of rebellion that only a zombie could display, the hand brandishes the ubiquitous devil-horned symbol denoting rock-n-roll, metal mayhem, and all things dark and dangerous.

The sideshow-like mural is an effective precursor to the devilishly delightful designs to come. As one rounds the right corner into the gallery, stunning vintage posters hang in reverence to the by-gone age of German expressionism; Wiene’s 1920 The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, Gade and Schall’s 1921 Hamlet,  Murnau’s 1922 Nosferatu, and Lang’s 1927 Metropolis. The process most commonly used to create these works of visual wonderment was stone lithography. Color was limited, the form was time-consuming and expensive. Few have survived. Hammett’s relics, however, those extant to us today, remain unphased by time or the elements.

The exhibit continues in a celebration of the advent of atomic energy, film noir, and drive-in picture shows. Our eyes are immediately drawn to the center of one salon wherein what appears to be an industrial-sized, copper-rust electric powered insulator from the set of James Whale’s 1931 fright feature, Frankenstein. It is breathtaking to behold and fits in perfectly with the surrounding lithoes.

Nearby is a glass case featuring a small selection of lobby cards. These were smaller photos on thicker stock that were used to dress the lobbies of cinemas. These lobby cards are mana to collectors and while there are still plenty out there in abundance, they are increasing in value as supply in the market begins a slow descent. They have been beautifully preserved and many of the images shown are actual screenshots from the films they promote.

The philosophy being, that if audiences were unsure of what creature feature to take in next, they would be inspired by the colorful action shots they were guaranteed to see on the big screen. No pretentious posing in the photos, what you saw was what you’d get. The lobby cards were also less expensive for Hollywood promotion houses to print and duplicate. Hammett’s are a joy to take in and are in the finest of condition.

No collection would be complete of course without a heaping helping of Karloff, Lugosi, and Chaney. Classic one-sheets from Hollywood’s golden age of horror cinema and into the 1940s are well-represented; Browning’s 1931 Dracula, Freund’s 1932 The Mummy, Waggner’s 1941 The Wolfman, and Arnold’s 1954 The Creature from the Black Lagoon all framed with care, stare back at us in monstrous malevolence. Featured in the show are two beautifully commissioned life-sized figures; Boris Karloff from Ulmer’s 1934 The Black Cat, and Bela Lugosi from Halperin’s 1932 White Zombie.

Hammett’s sheets from the 1950s reflect much of our fears and trepidations of the decade’s technological innovations; Korean War weaponry, hydrogen bombs, nuclear attacks, and the launch of the Soviet “Sputnik,” an innovation that effectively began the space race.

It was also about this time that the process of creating these advertising marvels moved from stone lithography to offset printing. Hammett himself has observed that a comparison of poster designs from the ‘20s and ‘30s and those of the ‘40s and ‘50s are as disparate in design concept as they are in topic. Whereas the earlier one-sheets exhibited a wide array of artisans, techniques, styles, and palettes, the later years conveyed a style more formulaic.

When atomic age epics such as Haskin’s 1953  War of the Worlds filled the silver screen during Saturday afternoon matinees, the cinemas were plastered with depictions of sci-fi scenes to assault the senses; damsels fleeing in fear, Martians invading rural America, interplanetary battles, infernal machines, and giant warships from outer space destroying everything in their path with death rays.

Hammett has these carefully protected artifacts in seeming perpetuity. His assessment is true. If one lines the posters up side by side it is possible to see the beginnings of the ‘floating heads’ phenomenon so rampant in our present-day distilled culture of quick, cheap, and fast photo-shop. The fonts used for titles are similar, almost identical in many cases, and the colors, a revolving palate of red, yellow, green, and black.

A few pieces are suspended in the glow of track lighting giving respect to the later films of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Polanski’s 1968 Rosemary’s Baby, Friedkin’s 1973 The Exorcist, and Scott’s 1979 Alien bring Hammett’s collection to a chronological stopping point at the twentieth century. For metal enthusiasts, a selection of Hammett’s monster-laden guitars are on display as well.

Though overall, the It’s Alive! experience is an excellently curated and crafted showcase of genre treasures, it is not without its challenges. This particular art show is theatrical in nature and would have benefitted from a few effects that would have enhanced the observer experience. Conspicuously glaring was the white-hot track lighting in the galleries. Though it is a common and standard approach to display (after all this is a visual artform), such bright light hitting the sheets, props, and costumes betrayed the genre. A dimmer setting of vintage incandescence might have provided an atmosphere more befitting the gothic milieu.

Absent from the experience was the use of low underscoring throughout the museum. Instrumental soundtracks and/or orchestrated music of the Wagnerian catalog would have set the mood at a higher level of stimulus. As it is, the absolute silence does nothing to benefit the tour. One oversight appeared to be an original standee promoting Cooper and Schoedsack’s 1933 King Kong. The cut-out is placed too close to a wall so as not to give the observing eye the benefit of depth and dimension. To pull it out from the back wall even a couple of feet would have made a marked difference in the illustration of Kong’s glory.

In the end, Hammett’s collected works are a stunning visual representation of a long ago time, in darkened cinemas, where the crunching of popcorn, the sipping of sweet cola and the screaming of teenagers at mutant, malformed Martians up on the big screen was as splendid a Saturday afternoon as one could imagine.

Christofer Cook holds an MFA, an MA, and a BA. He is a member of the Horror Writers Association, The Dracula Society, and the Dramatists Guild of America. His latest plays are Amityville, An Edgar Allan Poe Christmas Carol, and a stage adaptation of House on Haunted Hill. His published script, Dracula of Transylvania (Advised by Dacre Stoker), is the first theatrical treatment of the novel written in collaboration with a member of the Stoker family since the 1920’s when Bela Lugosi played the title role on Broadway. It is currently available at the Columbia Museum of Art’s gift shop.

REVIEW: Belles Ring True at Workshop Theatre by Patrick Michael Kelly

“… guided by the steady hand of Robin Gottlieb, whose extensive experience and sweet touch show through in this polished production .”

Workshop Theatre rings in the springtime with Mark Dunn’s Belles, a Southern comedy about keeping family ties over long distance. At a matinee on its first weekend, an attentive crowd laughed and cried along with the action at the Cottingham Theatre at Columbia College.

Belles weaves a story of six sisters spurred by an unfortunate encounter between their elderly mother and some bad tuna fish. Written in 1989, Dunn’s script is filled with zingers, one-liners, and Southern touchstones. Some humor doesn’t stand the test of time and makes for some awkward moments, but the play has a lot of heart, and it goes to some places you might not expect if judging a (phone)book by its cover. Underneath, Belles is a meandering portrait of a family broken by alcoholism and the telephone wires that, also, barely hold it together. The sisters are haunted by the ghost of their abusive father and scattered memories of their fading mother. The lives they choose all fall within the spectrum of trauma recovery. If this all sounds rather bleak, rest assured that there is plenty of hope to balance it out, guided by the steady hand of Robin Gottlieb, whose extensive experience and sweet touch show through in this polished production - her first in the director’s chair at Workshop.

At rise, we meet Peggy, the eldest sister and caretaker of mama (whom we never see but whose influence permeates every scene) as she calls up each of her other five sisters to give them the latest news. Over the course of the two-hour’s traffic, we watch the sisters communicate - with each other, with friends, and even strangers - giving us a window into each woman’s life and slowly revealing to us a larger context of the bonds of family and the wounds of time. Belles is largely a series of interwoven monologues, but it’s at its best when it employs dialogue. The scenes between two sisters (and sometimes two pairs of sisters), with the characters talking to each other directly even though they are hundreds of miles apart, are when the play really sings.

As is any monologue-heavy play, Belles is a showcase for its actors, and Gottlieb has provided us with a solid group.

Allison Allgood shines as Audrey, the performer of the family, with a strong sense of timing and full commitment to her character’s passions. Audrey dotes on Huckle, her wooden partner and surrogate child, and polishes their act in preparation for their big break. When things go off the rails, Audrey finds solace in her strong marriage, and Allgood’s engaging quirks become grounded in love. 

Katie Mixon brings her all to the most out-there character as Dust, or the sister formerly known as Sherry. Mixon focuses on the fickle eccentricity of her character and it pays off. The ongoing drama with her various paramours - most of which she handles solo - provides a lot of levity to the play, and the scene where she gives baby sister Paige relationship advice is a standout.

Kira Nessel is winning as Paige, the baby of the family who is now a grad student with impossibly high standards and a chip on her shoulder. Paige tries her best not to get too emotionally invested in an eager suitor, holding out hope for a more perfect specimen, but her sisters’ perspectives challenge her to be open to opportunity. Nessel’s journey as Paige is relatable and we root for her every step of the way.

Krista Forster’s Roseanne is facing a dissolving marriage, transitioning from stability to doubt and uncertainty. As such, Forster is tasked with some heavy lifting and she answers the bell, bringing full emotional availability and curiosity to her character. She also does an admirable job of communicating many of the more dated jokes. A particularly successful scene finds Forster personifying her sisters as various items in her kitchen as she decides which of them to call.

Raia Hirsch is well-cast as the most successful of the sisters, at least in terms of bank accounts. Hirsch’s Aneece works hard and drinks harder to cover up the traumas of her upbringing. A particularly powerful couplet of scenes in the second act stir up the family drama and reveal the reason for Aneece’s prickly exterior, and Hirsch succeeds in truthfully relating her character’s pain. Hirsch’s speech imagining a phone conversation with her mother is gutting.

Zsuzsa Manna grounds the cast - and the family - in her turn as Peggy. Manna has the most scenes in the play as Peggy is the hub through which all information gets filtered. Manna displays a lot of range between a heated argument with Aneece over their mother’s parenting and lending a concerned ear to Roseanne and her situation, however a promising scene where Peggy receives a lewd late-night caller could have gone further.

Gottlieb’s production has a savvy production team behind it as well, and she blends their contributions nicely. Dean McCaughan delivers an eye-catching set, with multiple playing areas on different levels, each space featuring vivid colors and curated details to distinguish each sister’s world. McCaughan pulls double duty as sound designer, and the combination of clever and unobtrusive analog-era tunes with a chaotic array of dial tones, busy signals, and automated messages is becoming of the material. Lighting by Patrick Faulds is simple but effective. Amber Westbrook’s costumes help date the play appropriately and further define the characters for the audience.

The many roles the sisters in Belles play to overcome the trauma of their upbringing - the caretaker, the workaholic, the homemaker, the performer, the flake, the commitment-phobe - all serve to paint a complete portrait of a family in recovery. By the play’s end, each sister is a little closer and more empathetic to the others, and a reunion appears on the horizon. While this 31-year-old play doesn’t break any new ground, it does prompt examination of our own paths, and may inspire you to call your loved ones a little more often. Workshop’s Belles is well-worth ringing up.

Patrick Michael Kelly is the new Theatre Editor for Jasper Magazine. For more about Patrick read athe spring issue of Jasper releasing mid-April.

Belles runs through March 15th at Workshop Theatre at Cottingham Theatre on the campus of Columbia College.

For more information contact Workshoptheatre.com.

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: Much Ado About Nothing at USC

Come, come, we are friends: let's have a dance ere
we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts
and our wives' heels. — Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing

In a cheeky twist on the title of Shakespeare’s comedy, Much Ado About Nothing, The UofSC Department of Theatre and Dance’s production of this First Folio play actually creates quite a bit of ado, or fuss, about a fairly straight-forward connivance—which was surely Shakespeare’s intention given that he wrote an entire play about a pair of vengeful practical jokes. But while this reviewer is nothing if not a fan of whimsy and irreverence, giving this production exceedingly high scores on the application of both, for some viewers the added bells and whistles might feel a bit gimmicky in places. That said, I had more fun at this production than at any of Shakespeare’s plays I’ve had the good fortune of seeing performed anywhere other than at the Globe or the Sam Wannamaker playhouse in London.

The key to the success of this production is its accessibility. And it is precisely the extraneous bonuses—the use of pop music, the incongruous costuming by Kristy Leigh Hall, the full-company pop-up choreography by Andre Megerdichian—that break through what sometimes seem to be immovable obstacles in the way of fully appreciating a play that was written in 1599 a full four hundred and twenty years later.

The reality is that enjoying Shakespeare requires work for even the above-average audience member. From the early modern English language, which was less than 100 years old when Shakespeare created the majority of his works (and subsequently recorded a few thousand words for the first time in history), to the patriarchal influences on casting, plot, and whether characters live happily ever after or not, fully appreciating Shakespeare can surely be enhanced by tactics and ploys that make the purpose of the play more meaningful to the audience.  

Perhaps director Dustin Whitehead had this in mind when he cast against gender several times in this production.

In the original play, Don John is the bastard brother, if you’ll pardon the anachronism, of Don Pedro (Nicholas Good). Don John, played with just the right amount of eye-rolling, cynicism, and indifference by Beck Chandler, carries a chip on his shoulder and likes to cause trouble where there is none. It is Don John’s interferences in the happiness of Claudio, a follower of Don Pedro, as he attempts to court and marry Hero, the daughter of Leonato who is the governor of Messina, a friend of Don Pedro’s, and the party’s host for a month of post-war R and R.

Through the machinations of Don John and his wicked sidekicks Borachio, played like sleaze in a leisure suit by Jacob Wilson, and Conrade, played against gender by Kinzie Correll, Claudio (Cameron Giordano) is led to believe that Hero (Ezri Fender) has been unfaithful. In a real dick move, Claudio waits until the wedding to accuse his betrothed of her dishonor, making the kind of scene that, in the 21st century, might more likely result in a well-aimed kick to the groin by the bride-to-be, but in Shakespeare’s day ostensibly causes Hero to fall out, faint, and, for all we know as we’re watching the play, die.

Here is where the cleverness of casting against gender, consequently creating a far more accessible message, comes in. Rather than cast Leonato as a man, Whitehead casts Leonata as a woman and has her played with great passion by Caroline Clarke. While at first Leonata condemns her daughter to death for her perceived transgression, the character ultimately becomes devoted to proving the innocence of her daughter and in what would have been read, with a male in the role, as a patriarchal defense of a family’s bloodline, the act becomes a feminist defense of a young woman’s integrity by a female champion.

Along those same lines, it is Friar Francis, played by Susan Swavely, who believes and defends Hero all along, and it is Constable Dogberry and partner, Verges, played brilliantly and also against gender by Cassidy Spencer and Lily Heidari respectively, who capture Conrade and Borachio and bring them to justice before Claudio and Don Pedro, clearing Hero’s name.

Consequently we have a version of the conflict resolution in Much Ado in which women band together to defend another unjustly accused woman, and I’m not sure what could be more 2019 than that.

It should be noted that in an overarching subplot of the play, which most might argue typically eclipses the primary plot, Beatrice, who is the niece of Leonata, engages in a classic Hepburn and Tracy/Muldur and Scully/Ross and Rachel romance with Lord Benedick, a soldier from Padua who fought in Pedro’s army. The couple, strongly played by Jordan Postal as Beatrice and Anthony Currie as Benedick, carry the weight of the characters well and shine particularly brightly during a musical interlude, set to an instrumental rendition of Lennon and McCartney’s “Come Together.” This is one of those places where Whitehead’s bonus bells and whistles really pay off. It is in this added intermezzo that the audience gets to witness the push and pull and all the acrobatics of a real love affair working its way into existence. Whereas Claudio declares his love for Hero and she basically says, Ok – Why Not? Beatrice and Benedick are strong-minded individuals who not only aren’t looking for love, they don’t want to identify themselves when love finds them. The audiences who see this version of Much Ado come away seeing the Beatrice and Benedick romance as real and meaningful rather than almost spiteful and trivial when depicted by dialogue alone.

It is, in many ways, the music that makes this performance progress particularly cohesively for a cast of primarily undergrad actors. And the stand out actors are the ones who begin the production in another added scene when Spencer and Heidari take the stage as the comically inept watchwomen sweeping up, preparing for the day, and ultimately singing and accompanying themselves on piano, as do several characters throughout the play. Having seen these young women perform lead roles this summer in Montgomery at Trustus Theatre it was a gift to see them together again. Spencer rises well to the traditionally comical challenge the character of Dogberry demands and Heidari is right there with her.

The lone MAT student, Amber Coulter, in the role of Margaret, also offers a stand-out performance, of note not only due to her comic timing but her confidence and ease of delivery, as well. Having performed in seven shows on the main stage at USC, (this reviewer remembers her from Top Girls and The Crucible), Coulter is a fine example of the kind of theatre artist the UofSC Department of Theatre and Dance can produce.

Though not a perfect performance—Benedick could project more, for example—the choreographed (or were they blocked?) numbers made up in enthusiasm for what they lacked in technique, and Michael Taylor in the role of Ursula wore a skirt like nobody’s business. Audience members laughed, tapped their feet, and smiled broadly at the closing number. It was a joyous performance and, at the end, we could ask for little more.

The performance runs Thursdays through Sundays until November 9th at Longstreet Theatre and tickets are available at tickets.vendini.com

-Cindi Boiter

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

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: Montgomery Packages the Familiar in a Delightfully Fresh Package - by Frank Thompson

“Once we’ve gotten snagged by the story, Montgomery reels in its audience as a fresh and captivating cat-and-mouse game in which it’s never quite clear who’s winning, nor is it possible to discern the tears of laughter from the sentimental sniffles…

It isn’t often that a troupe of character archetypes and well-worn caricatures can be successfully interwoven from two stories into one, especially when each has its grounding in a largely conflicting style and base of reality, but occasionally the unlikely does occur. Such is the case in the lovably lopsided world of Stephen Brown’s Montgomery, a world premiere comedy making its debut as the winner of the 2018 Trustus Playwrights’ Festival. One part southern-fried knee-slapper, complete with bumbling cops and one-liners reminiscent of the best of Jeff Foxworthy or the late Lewis Grizzard, paired with a slightly twisted Hallmark movie with a twang, this odd couple combination not only amuses and entertains, it works.

Before discussing the production, however, I must tip my hat and raise my frosty bottle of Lone Star to playwright Brown, who obviously did his research and took his time in creating a believable, cohesive, and surprisingly consistent reality while spinning a hilarious tale that isn’t afraid to get serious on occasion. With plotlines harkening back to The Dukes Of Hazzard and All My Children simultaneously, each liberally peppered with tastes of Greater Tuna, Mamma Mia!, The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas, It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, and numerous other pop-culture touchstones, Brown clearly revels in gentle parody, yet creates an entirely original and believable story.

Make no mistake; there’s plenty of borrowing/inspiration from other stage and film works here, but absolutely nothing is stolen. Montgomery may feel familiar, but for every punchline you watch approaching from a mile away, there are at least two moments of surprise and a whispered “well, I didn’t see that coming!” Brown’s script lands the audience in the manner of an experienced angler. We may be initially hooked by the foul-mouthed, slovenly, down-home martinet in the Sheriff’s Office or the cute country girl clad in short shorts that would have put Dawn Wells’ Mary Ann to shame, but they’re just the bait. Once we’ve gotten snagged by the story, Montgomery reels in its audience as a fresh and captivating cat-and-mouse game in which it’s never quite clear who’s winning, nor is it possible to discern the tears of laughter from the sentimental sniffles involuntarily presenting themselves at unexpected moments. Overlaying all the action is a subtle lesson about wishes, dreams, and how getting “everything you ever wanted” sometimes yields unexpected losses as well as gains.

In a nutshell, the primary plot centers around Megan and Kimmy, two Texas teenagers who manage to kidnap country music star, Rick Montgomery. Though the grab succeeds, the detention is exactly as slapdash and immature as one would expect from a pair of kids whose biggest previous transgressions were most likely hiding in the woods smoking cigarettes or sneaking into an R-rated movie.  Aspiring badasses though they may be, Megan and Kimmy aren’t even yet of legal driving age, which makes their attempts at swagger and menace all the more endearing and hilarious. In parallel time, (with occasionally intersecting moments) there’s trouble afoot at the police station, as the Governor himself is pressuring local law enforcement to find Montgomery in time to play at a re-election fundraiser. Along with Patty, the perpetually irascible and arguably hungover officer in charge, the law is represented by classic good-ole-boys Larry and Chet. Larry is good-hearted but meekly ineffectual, while Chet is largely ignorant of, yet obsessed with such technology as body cams and his YouTube channel.

The stories link when we learn that Larry is actually Megan’s adopted father, who makes excuses for her teenage antics (such as twice “accidentally” setting her school’s chemistry lab on fire) while desperately trying to connect with her and create a stable family life. In a scene that manages to be LOL-funny and heartbreaking, we see Megan manipulate Larry’s paternal instincts as a cover for having a kidnapped celebrity detained in her bedroom. Meanwhile, beta-female Kimmy (who always follows Megan’s orders) opens up to an increasingly befuddled Montgomery about her own musical aspirations. There is more to Kimmy than meets the eye, however, as she eventually winds up displaying sufficient backbone to bring the insanity to a fulfilling, weirdly happy conclusion.

Elena Martinez-Vidal, Kevin Bush, and Gabe Reitemeier

The casting is superb, with praise being due to Director Sharon Graci for her expert eye in filling each role with an ideal and perfectly-suited actor. Having been around Columbia’s stages for about a decade, I know or have at least seen performances by most of the area’s performers, and I truly could not come up with any alternative casting that would have improved on Graci’s. This is an assemblage of pros which fully embraces the material and works together seamlessly. As Megan, Cassidy Spencer proves true a hunch that I had several months ago, having seen her in Trustus’ Heathers: The Musical. Though she had a small ensemble role, I kept noticing her, to the point of having mentioned in the review that I hoped to see her take on larger parts in future productions. Having had that opportunity with Montgomery, I am happy to say that my instinct was correct, and that she can handle a leading role with aplomb and great skill.

As Megan’s foil and underling, Lilly Heidari provides an excellent counterpoint as Kimmy, who is slightly younger in years and significantly more childlike than her world-weary-at-fourteen mentor. Though the script doesn’t delve too deeply into the subject, we do learn that Kimmy lives with her grandmother, which likely served as a subliminal connecting point with the adopted Megan, who brusquely rejects the parents she sees as “not really hers.” While presented as rural, middle-class Texans, the girls are hardly sophisticates, but neither are they impoverished or victimized by the hazards facing slum-dwelling outcasts. Each has her own unlikely dreams, (ironically, each involving a guitar) and have most probably shared their aspirations over many weekend sleepovers and square-pizza-and-corn high school lunchroom repasts. I have no idea how close Spencer and Heidari are in real life, but they have done outstanding work in establishing two characters who interact with the verbal and physical ease of old friends.

Having been most recently seen on the Trustus stage as the ever-so-dapper and smooth-talking Jay Gatsby in last spring’s The Great Gatsby, Jason Stokes does a delightful 180 as the aging, haggard, somewhat over-it-all, music industry burnout who still retains a country-boy handsomeness and charm. There’s a hint of a fiftyish Harrison Ford to his characterization, which immediately reminded me of the line from Raiders Of The Lost Ark, when a battered, exhausted, and punchy Indiana Jones admits “it’s not the years, it’s the mileage.” Stokes’ Montgomery is a cynic suffering from a minor head wound and recreational drug deprivation, but even in his moments of anger, he never comes across as unsympathetic. It’s clear that this guy has seen it all and done most of it twice, but he obviously realizes he’s dealing with a pair of messed-up but harmless teens, even serving as the voice of reason on occasion. Solid throughout, Stokes rises to the peak of his performance near the end of act one, when an unlikely situation leads to a revelation that could have been overplayed in reaction by a less skilled actor. No spoilers, but watch for a cliché plot twist made new and interesting through a unique, believable response from a much more substantial Rick Montgomery than his concert audiences might imagine.

Cassidy Spencer and Jason Stokes

Meanwhile, back at the police station, Patty does her best to get the B-team of the four officers under her command to grow some sense and find Montgomery, all the while dealing with the Governor and his Chief of Staff who demand constant updates. Elena Martinez-Vidal introduces Patty as a female version of Jackie Gleason’s famous Buford T. Justice of Smokey And The Bandit fame, complete with almost-affectionate but scathing commentary on Larry and Chet’s incompetence, yet reveals a softer side when things get truly serious for a minute about halfway through the second act. Though the two characters have no connection, Martinez-Vidal uses Patty’s gruff-but-decent personality to provide another link between the somewhat disparate storylines, mirroring Montgomery’s hard-boiled exterior and significantly gentler soul. Both Patty and Montgomery are grownups who have been “rode hard and put up wet” more than a few times, and neither is thrilled with having to deal with a pair of goofballs who are unable to act their respective ages. While Montgomery is forced to deal with a pair of teenagers who think they’re adults, Patty must endure the travails of shepherding two grown men who act like not-so-bright high schoolers. As does Stokes, Martinez-Vidal rises to the challenge of both embracing a stereotype and playing against it.

Having praised Kevin Bush’s versatility in multiple reviews, I will now repeat myself in saying that his Larry is yet another example of Bush’s chameleon-like ability to literally transform himself into a role. His first appearance finds Larry shooting a commercial of sorts for Chet’s ambitious shot at creating a COPS-style reality show. Complete with cowboy hat, slouching posture, and a dialect somewhat reminiscent of Slim Pickens with a hint of Andy Griffith tossed in for good measure, Bush was literally unrecognizable to me for about the first five minutes of his stage time. At turns both pathetic and heroic, Bush once again somehow manages to leave his real-life embodiment offstage, creating Larry from a presumably blank slate. Though not as textured by dialogue, Gabe Reitemeier’s Chet is an eager, if not-too-bright, little brother figure to Larry, oftentimes calming the situation when Larry’s anxieties get the better of him. In keeping with the myriad of nods (intentional or otherwise) to other characters and realities, Reitemeier pulls his share of belly-laughs with a close approximation of the patois and speech patterns of the mumblingly philosophical Boomhauer from Mike Judge’s King Of The Hill. As with Spencer and Heidari, Bush and Reitemeier present a relationship that seems completely natural and long-established, which plays successfully off their mutual respect for/aggravation with Patty. The police station is an internal reality to the larger world of the show, but it follows its own rules to the letter. Again, no spoilers, but keep an eye out for the golden moment of hilarity while the three officers wait for the office printer to complete a job. No words are spoken, but it’s one of the most side-splitting moments in a very funny show.

Curtis Smoak’s scenic design, much like the script, simultaneously manages to pull off sleek minimalism and a vaguely cluttered reality. Projections are utilized, but not overused, giving the show the look and feel of an extended sketch-comedy skit, which embraces a staged theatricality to great success. Such expansive locales as a packed concert arena and a crowded interstate are cheekily created with little more than lighting (courtesy of Lighting Designer Laura Anthony) and small furniture pieces, which suits the theme and style of Montgomery. Costume Designer Janine McCabe dresses her actors appropriately, with an eye toward costuming as an extention of each character. From Spencer’s rocker-chick look to Martinez-Vidal’s gradual transformation from half-dressed slob to crisply ironed and outfitted officer, the costumes reinforce and support the action without ever getting in its way. Director Graci serves double duty as Sound Designer, and has included a playlist of country music standards from the 70s and 80s, which give the action a satisfyingly old-school feel. If Montgomery were a film, you would expect to see a touch of graininess to the print, as well as the occasional jump of a few seconds resulting from a slightly botched reel edit. In addition to the radio classics of old, Montgomery features two original works composed by Eliza Simpson; the title theme and a dream-sequence concert number, “Star Quality,” sung by Kimmy as she imagines her future as a Nashville icon.

Elena Martinez-Vidal, Kevin Bush, Lilly Heidari, Gabe Reitemeier, and Cassidy Spencer

Montgomery continues its run this weekend, so there are only a few more chances to catch this little jewel of a comedy with heart. Now get on down to Trustus, pop open a cold beer, munch some popcorn, and enjoy a wild ride that will occasionally melt your heart.

-FLT3

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

(CORRECTION - Chad Henderson both designed the sound and cast the actors for Montgomery. Jasper regrets our error.)

REVIEW: Village Theatre Pulls Off a Hilarious R-Rated Avenue Q by Frank Thompson

Whether or not they’re serious about requiring the under-seventeen crowd to bring along a parent, Village Square Theatre is following the MPAA rating system, prominently displaying the “rated R” logo and information on print publicity for their production of Avenue Q, a spoof of Sesame Street, complete with humans interacting with moon-faced puppets. That’s probably a good idea, because this is definitely not a show for children or the easily offended. In his program notes, Director Jeff Sigley notes that as a fringe production (not a part of the regular season) Avenue Q steps outside Village Square’s usual commitment to family-friendly entertainment. While I respect the fact that squeaky-clean shows provide an opportunity to introduce young people to the theatre, (and can be quite enjoyable) it’s nice to see a local group going outside its established audience base/comfort zone and presenting something different.  F-bombs are dropped, there’s a song dedicated to the joys of internet porn, and such issues as racism, sexual identity, and poverty are savagely lampooned. There are more than a few “I can’t believe they went there” moments in the show, each more outrageous than the one before, which quickly establishes a sort of permission to laugh at sentiments that would otherwise be met with shock and disapproval. Much in the style of the late George Carlin, Avenue Q realizes that the best way not to offend anyone is to, well, offend everybody. Having seen the show before, I was curious as to how it would play in what is a traditionally conservative house. If the audience at Sunday’s matinee is any indication of the overall response, this show has people guffawing like hell, almost to the point of rolling in the aisles. There are no sacred cows in the script, yet the writing never descends to sophomoric vulgarity in hopes of getting a cheap laugh. Yes, it’s unabashedly naughty and inappropriate, but the script is smart, clever, and somehow manages to establish its small urban neighborhood as a bizarre but welcoming place.

It’s a typical day on Avenue Q, with the regulars and a couple of newcomers to the neighborhood all doing their best to navigate the world of disillusioned Gen-Xers facing more humble lifestyles than they expected. In his introductory song, Princeton, ( well-voiced and puppeteered by Brooks Torbett) a recent college graduate, wistfully sings “What Do You Do With A B.A. In English?” The answer is that you move to the ghetto of Avenue Q, get a cheap apartment, and ponder the grim realities of adult life disappointment through a poignant but relatably funny musical introspective. In getting to know his new neighbors, Princeton finds budding romance with Kate Monster, (winningly created by Julia Hudson) a sweet, somewhat naïve young woman, and strikes up a conversation with former child star, Gary Coleman.

 As one of the few flesh-and-blood human residents of Avenue Q, Coleman has burned through his Diff’rent Strokes money, hit rock bottom, and is now working as a maintenance man. Ara-Viktoria McKinney-Goins (who also serves as the show’s Musical Director) brings a gently irreverent tone to Coleman, which, while saucy and tinged with gallows humour, is never demeaning or cruel with regards to the late Coleman’s legacy. Providing some of the funniest “I’m going straight to hell for laughing at this” moments is Melissa Hanna’s Christmas Eve, an Asian-American woman whose broad caricature is only slightly less inappropriate than Mickey Rooney’s infamous turn as Mr. Yunioshi in the 1960s film, Breakfast At Tiffany’s. However, there’s such a complete detachment from real-life sensitivities, it somehow seems acceptable to laugh. As with the rest of the oft-politically incorrect denizens of Avenue Q, there’s no malice behind or “laughing at” Christmas Eve’s broken English and double-entendres. She’s quirky and plays to the stereotype, but she is a fully accepted and beloved-if-cranky member of the community. This is a fairly difficult tightrope to walk, and Hanna succeeds.

In a few of the more outrageous moments, we encounter Tyler Elling and Resi Talbot as the “Bad Idea Bears,” a somewhat Family Guy-esque variation on the virtuous “Care Bears” toys  which promote good behaviour and healthy decision-making. In a side-splitting montage, these sweet-faced teddy bears and their puppetmasters convince Princeton and Kate Monster to get wildly drunk on a work night, in addition to other shenanigans, all sung in the style of a “be good, kids” cartoon. Meredith Olenick gets roof-raising laughter in her turn as “bad girl puppet” Lucy The Slut. Lucy lives up to her name, complete with Dolly Parton coif, one-night stands, and foam rubber-and-felt décolletage. Keep a sharp ear out, as her one-liners are fast and sometimes unexpected, and you won’t want to miss a single tarty wisecrack. Perhaps the most memorable character, though, is Trekkie Monster, an obviously *ahem* inspired-by-Cookie-Monster aficionado of online sex videos. William Arvay gives Trekkie a soul beneath his grumpy exterior, but never holds back on allowing Trekkie to be who he is. Arvay’s “The Internet Is For Porn” literally stopped the show, and this old pro played every scene to its fullest, without ever drawing attention away from the rest of the cast. Avenue Q is an ensemble piece, and that concept/energy is obviously embraced by the team. The rest of the cast consists of Beck Chandler, (Brian) Raymond Elling, (Nicky) and James Galluzzo (Rod/Singing Box). Each brings a professional, well-rehearsed, and wickedly rib-tickling performance to a uniformly solid production. Stage Manager Lindsay Brown does an excellent job of riding herd on her human and puppet actors, and keeps the show’s pace moving briskly and seamlessly, with set changes, sound cues, and transitions going smoothly and efficiently.

…which leads me to what ultimately makes Avenue Q a success. This cast and crew obviously like each other, and have created that feeling an audience member can sense when a cast just “clicks.” The puppets and their handlers have spent a great deal of social time together, reinforcing these odd little relationships with which they’re tasked to bringing to life. A quick glance at Facebook shows multiple group karaoke outings, an evening on the town with the puppets in tow, and even some shots of Hudson and Kate Monster enjoying karaoke in the ship’s lounge on Hudson’s recent vacation cruise. Also worthy of note is the mid-rehearsal-period illness of director, Sigley. Having been hospitalized with pancreatitis for almost two weeks of the rehearsal period, he heaps tremendous praise on his cast and production team for following the oft-observed advice to “Keep Calm And Carry On.” McKinney-Goins made sure the cast perfected their vocals during their leader’s absence, and the group collectively did table work and tentative blocking, providing a semi-finished piece for Sigley to refine and complete upon his return. As one who extols the importance of teamwork and cast bonding when directing, I always appreciate seeing it having been emphasized in a show I’m reviewing.

Is Avenue Q flawless? No, but the good by far outweighs the bad. Dan Woodard’s set is just about perfect in design, but occasionally suffers from lighting issues which sometimes give the stage an overly bright, “full wash” texture, occasionally to the point of obscuring projected images on the upstage scrim. To their credit, Village Square usually features live musicians for musical theatre productions, but as a non-season show, Avenue Q relies on recorded music tracks. This is normally a somewhat significant disappointment to me, but in this oddball world of a children’s-show dystopia, it actually works. The music sounds like the incidental tunes we of a certain age recall from various PBS kids’ shows of the 70s and 80s, and in this specific case, that’s just what is needed. Although they were brief, I wish the show had not stopped for scene changes. The set is somewhat minimal,each vignette flows easily into the next, and spending 30 or so seconds in the dark did take me out of the moment a few times. Bringing the end of one scene or song downstage while the next one is being set upstage would have been perfectly true to the reality established by Avenue Q, and would have maintained a greater sense of continuity and uninterrupted flow.

While worthy of note, these few drawbacks do not significantly detract from the joyfully guilty pleasure that is Avenue Q. If double-entendres, single-entendres, occasionally raunchy humour, and broadly-drawn zany characters are your thing, you’ll enjoy Avenue Q. If you appreciate all of the above, wrapped in an overall message of acceptance along the lines of “don’t feel so bad, we’re all f**ked up in one way or another,” you will absolutely love it. Village Square is only a 20 minute drive from downtown, so make the trip out to Lexington this weekend and visit the fine folks and merry monsters of Avenue Q.

Avenue Q concludes its run this weekend, with performances at 7.30pm Friday and Saturday, and a 3pm matinee on Sunday. Tickets can be reserved at VillageSquare.com, or by ringing the Box Office on 803.359.1436.

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

REVIEW: Trustus Delivers a Sweet, Funny, and Honest Motherhood Out Loud by Frank Thompson

“The time does speed by, so enjoy every moment.”

Felicia Bulgozdy, Joseph Eisenreich, Katrina Blanding, and Becky Hunter

I was curious as to why Trustus decided to go off-site for this production, which is being performed on the Columbia Children’s Theatre stage at Richland Mall. CCT is currently performing Mary Poppins at Eau Claire High School, so I figured it was simply a neat idea; a cute wink at the subject of motherhood, as well as an opportunity for two prominent arts organizations to partner and cross-promote. While these considerations and more were most likely part of the decision-making process, I must admit to having not considered the impact of place-association in creating the world of Motherhood Out Loud.

Having attended many performances at CCT, I have come to associate it with child-oriented entertainment and education. There’s a specific energy to the space, defined through the group’s signature décor of costumes and props, the openness of the seating, (sorry, folks, the front row is only a few feet from the stage, so there’s no sitting on the floor this time) and an overall feeling of being in a room that knows and welcomes the company of large groups of kids. I found myself smiling and looking around the audience space, as if I expected to see a laughing runaway toddler chased by a cheerful-but-weary mom, or a group of fidgety children eagerly awaiting the show. I was, that is to say, put into the perfect mindset for this little gem of a production.

Motherhood Out Loud is a series of vignettes created by fourteen different playwrights, presented in a mockumentary style, with the characters frequently speaking directly to the audience while remaining in character. As the title suggests, the theme is that of motherhood, but this is more than a series of antique Erma Bombeck mom jokes or a retread of Kids Say the Darndest Things. While primarily a comedy, the script touches on timely and important topics such as same-sex parenting, gender identity, raising children with special needs, and how families deal with aging parents. Not having any kids of my own, I wondered if I would grow weary of the subject, but the writing is uniformly engaging, and requires no experience with parenting to appreciate and enjoy.

There’s a nicely-defined arc throughout Motherhood Out Loud, which opens with three pregnant women in various stages of agony and ecstasy, each ready to give birth. In their midst is a male OB-Gyn, doing his best to keep things normal while the three mothers-to-be expound on their hopes, dreams, and fears for the upcoming arrivals. There’s plenty of classic kidding-on-the-square about the physical pains of childbirth, but great sincerity and warmth shines through the vaudevillian “I’m giving birth to a bowling ball” humour, launching the stories of the numerous babies, children, and young adults about whom we will soon be hearing. As the show progresses through five “chapters,” these offstage offspring grow up, a process reflected in the monologues and small scenes we witness taking place among their elders. It may be cliché to wonder where the time went, but Motherhood Out Loud is only slightly over ninety minutes long (and quite entertaining) so I was actually a bit surprised when I realized it was over. The show runs without an intermission, adding another layer of audience relation to the text’s overall message. The time does speed by, so enjoy every moment.

The cast is strong and experienced, and even a Columbia theatre first-timer would know within the first few minutes that these folks are all A-list performers. Katrina Blanding, Felicia Bulgozdy, Joseph Eisenreich, and Becky Hunter each play about a dozen different characters, all fully developed and unique. They change the simple set pieces of oversized building blocks themselves, often while dancing along with a collection of 1960s and 70s pop classics ranging from “Ooh, Child” and “Baby Love” to “It Takes Two” and “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” (The scene change music would make an excellent road trip playlist.)

While this is a true ensemble piece, each actor has more than one opportunity to shine. No spoilers ahead, but definitely keep an eye out for Hunter’s delightfully less-than-perfect mom doing her best to live up to the standards of two idealized, by-the-book clones during a day in the park, Blanding’s hilarious and bittersweet monologue about the recent visit of her hovering, Carribean-accented helicopter mom, Bulgozdy’s second-act tour de force as an elderly grandmother who lays out some bare facts about child-raising, and Eisenreich’s funny, heartwarming, sweetly melancholy, yet ultimately empowering editorial about raising his child with another man. These were my particular faves, but without a clinker in the bunch, you may well discover yours in some of the other scenes. For a show with this structure to succeed, all the players must completely buy into the shifting realities from scene to scene and character to character, and this quartet succeeds with room to spare.

Director Martha Hearn Kelly has cast with an expert eye, creating a team that works extremely well together, and could easily be envisioned as four parents having a grown-ups night out together, laughing and crying over the latest exploits of their kids. Kelly also serves double-duty as Sound Designer, so I may be hitting her up for a CD of the above-mentioned soundtrack. A well-supported and sustained theme clearly runs through both direction and sound , with congratulations due to Kelly for managing to excel at doing two challenging jobs at once.

Scenic Designer Sam Hetler, who recently began his new job as Trustus’ Technical Director, has done an admirable job, giving Motherhood Out Loud a bright, multi-colored, minimalist set, with simple cubes hung on the wall and scattered around the stage, occasionally functioning as storage units for the eye-catching accent pieces provided by Costume Designer Abigail McNeely. The actors are all dressed in basic black, with such things as scarves, ties, headdresses, etc., appearing from various cubbyholes and closets within the building-block structures to create various characters. Small though they may be, these transitions are all done with choreographed precision and nary a wasted movement, allowing the show to flow without interruption.

Motherhood Out Loud continues its run this weekend, with performances Wednesday – Sunday at 7pm, with a 2pm Sunday matinee. Whether you’re a parent or childless-by-choice, you’re sure to get some good laughs and a moment or two of sentimental warmth from this charming set of tales from the front lines of parenting, told by some of Columbia’s best storytellers.

-FLT3

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

REVIEW: Chapin Theatre Company's Shrek: The Musical is an Ogre-Sized Delight by Frank Thompson

As the song goes, “it’s not easy being green,” but Clayton P. King manages to make it look effortless. Surrounded by a large cast of veterans and newcomers, King’s portrayal of the grumpy and reclusive title role in Chapin Theatre Company’s Shrek: The Musical is not only enjoyable, but also could serve as an unofficial master class for aspiring character actors. Expertly costumed and clad in full body padding, latex hands and headpiece, and a thick layer of makeup that would make The Wicked Witch Of  The West pea-soup hued with envy, the well-known local singer/actor is almost unrecognizable, but brings his usual flair and knack for interpreting a part to the Harbison Theatre stage. There’s a hint of Mike Meyers’ original screen incarnation in King’s portrayal, but he definitely makes it his own, presenting the audience with a slightly gentler, yet still comically fierce Shrek, who never relies on imitation. While some cartoon characters work splendidly when embodied by real-life actors, others falter somewhere in translation. (For every You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown, there’s a Doonesbury, which proves that simply plonking down the inhabitants of a successful ink-and-paper universe onstage isn’t a guaranteed recipe for success.) Luckily, Shrek: The Musical makes the leap with room to spare, with its charm and middle-school affinity for the hilarity of flatulence fully intact. Indeed, one of the show’s highlights is a belch-and-poot contest duet between Shrek and Fiona (Korianna Hays.)

As Fiona, Hays matches King’s expertise with a skill set honed through years of experience ranging from Shakespeare to Something Very Fishy, an original musical for children which teaches marine conservation through song and dance. Though she may have grown up in a tower, awaiting her knight, this Fiona is no fragile flower, and Hays artfully creates a spunky, self-sufficient young woman who can clearly handle herself in any situation. On a side note, the next generation of stage performers is well represented, with adult Fiona singing a trio with herself (herselves?) in childhood and teenagerhood. Katy Grant and Abby Tam play Young and Teen Fiona respectively, and are in fine voice, blending perfectly with Hays in their musical growing-up montage. Carter Tam makes a brief but noteworthy appearance as Young Shrek, as well.

The supporting cast is uniformly strong, with Major McCarty handing in a hilarious and over-the-top camp turn as the diminutive tyrant, Lord Farquaad. As he clearly revels in the distinction of being one of the only characters to break the fourth wall, McCarty’s performance brings to mind the delightfully shameless mugging of a young Paul Lynde or Charles Nelson Reilly, complete with demands for applause and cheeky asides to the audience. Along for the ride is first-timer Gerrard Goines, who keeps up with his more experienced co-stars in the role of Donkey. As does King, Goines takes a pinch of the film character (voiced by Eddie Murphy) and then puts his own spin on Shrek’s ever-faithful, if beleaguered best friend and traveling companion. A splendid singer with a natural comic’s timing, Goines will most certainly be seen again on local stages.

Other standouts include powerhouse vocalist Jas Webber, who brings the Dragon to saucy, sassy life, and Michelle Strom as Gingy, the Gingerbread Man of nursery-rhyme fame, whose scene with McCarty veers rib-ticklingly into the waters of British pantomime as they transform the lyrics to “Do You Know The Muffin Man” into mock-serious banter. Similar nods to multiple pop culture phenomena throughout the ages, from Monty Python to Friends, are peppered throughout the show, including a second-act opener featuring Busby Berkeley style tap choreography, a trio of Motown-esque Blind Mice, and a final line plucked straight from the pages of Dickens. (There are other Easter Eggs as well, but I’ll let you enjoy looking for them.)

The ensemble is the backbone of any musical, and this one does not disappoint. There isn’t a weak link to be found, and the script provides plenty of opportunities for all, with pretty much every cast member having a spotlight moment or two. The commitment to the wacky reality of their world is clear, and in-jokes abound, from a mid-thirties Peter Pan needing a shave to a wisecracking, beehive-haired Sugar Plum Fairy. There’s no official Costume Designer credited, so I’ll offer kudos to the show’s Co-Directors, Tiffany Dinsmore and Meesh Hays, who managed to bring just about every character from the Mother Goose canon to the Harbison stage, in authentic and easily identifiable outfitting, with a color palette of bright primaries and soft pastels that perfectly reinforce Shrek: The Musical’s cartoon pedigree.

A wide swath of choreographic styles, from traditional “old school” musical theatre to contemporary, intertwine throughout, courtesy of Choreographers Meredith Boehme and Katie Hilliger, who have taken a group with varied levels of experience and made them all look like trained pros. While some routines are more complex than others, there’s no hint of anything being simplified or watered down. Boehme and Hilliger have obviously choreographed to the strengths of their cast, allowing dancers and non-dancers alike to move with what looks like effortless ease. Musical Director Mary Jo Johnson has clearly worked the vocals well, with soloists and group numbers both coming in strong and solidly supported.

On the technical side, Danny Harrington’s set design is whimsical and fully realized, often operating in an almost Transformers style, with a series of hinges, individual pieces, and large units blending nicely with flown-in backdrops. All scene changes are done in full view, allowing the show to progress uninterrupted, which adds a touch of magic to an already enchanting production. Laura Anthony’s light design is subtle and most effective, utilizing shadows and isolated sections of the stage to create everything from the suggestion of overhead foliage to a starlit night, blending nicely with Harrington’s set.

Flaws are few and far between in this production, but if one must be nit-picky, there were a couple of  less-than-perfect moments in Sunday’s matinee performance. The show moves at a comfortably brisk pace, but the trade-off is that a few lines and bits seemed rushed, and a couple of the higher-pitched speaking voices were slightly difficult to understand, especially with the added challenge of using distinctive speech patterns to create fairy-tale characters. The large ensemble numbers in the first act seemed a bit vocally muddled, but clear diction prevailed by act two, so perhaps it just took a little time for my hearing to adjust to the combination of character voices and sometimes- intricate wordplay within the lyrics.  The set, while sumptuous, has clearly been nicked and scratched in a few spots during what must have been a demanding tech week, but there’s nothing that a couple of dabs of paint here and there wouldn’t fix.

Shrek: The Musical is a massive undertaking, and Chapin Theatre Company has risen to the challenge with high production values, a sleek and streamlined visual quality, and a uniformly talented and capable cast who are clearly having great fun with the material. This isn’t a deep, thoughtful, drama, but it never pretends to be anything it isn’t. It’s a funny, lighthearted, and joyful confection which doesn’t take itself too seriously. Get ready to laugh, enjoy the inherent goofiness of it all, and make the short drive out to Harbison Theatre at Midlands Technical College for a winning performance. The production continues its run with shows this Thursday and Friday at 7.30pm, and 3.00pm matinees on Saturday and Sunday.

-          FLT3

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

REVIEW - Heathers at Trustus Theatre by Frank Thompson

Here she is with two small problems

And the best part of the blame

Wishes she could call him heartache

But it's not a boy's name…

-From the song “Appetite” by Prefab Sprout (1985)

Lisa Baker, Brittany Hammock, and Katie Leitner

While the music and lyrics for Heathers: The Musical are all original, created for the stage version by Kevin Murphy and Laurence O’Keefe, I couldn’t get the above Prefab Sprout song out of my head when pondering how to address the production from a critical standpoint. For those unfamiliar with the Daniel Waters film upon which the stage adaptation is based, the story centers around Veronica, a seventeen-year-old high school student who develops a darkly romantic relationship with a charismatic nihilist, J.D., whose moral relativism is softened by a genuine concern for the underdog. Coming from a dysfunctional, single-parent home, J.D. is cynical beyond his years, and quite capable of handling himself in just about any situation. Veronica comes from a different world, with an almost-stereotypical loving-but-clueless “Mom and Dad” straight out of central casting.

Veronica’s life isn’t a horror story, but she suffers all the usual travails of a cute-but-nerdy young woman navigating the world of geeks, jocks, outcasts, and the rest of the archetypes that exist in high school to this day. In a funhouse-mirror version of the Pygmalion myth, Veronica finds herself thrust into the world of the uber-cool girls who rule the school’s social scene. Her malevolent new mentors, each named Heather, decide to make a sport of transforming Veronica into one of their own, yet maintain social dominance over her. After utilizing Veronica’s skill at imitation handwriting, the Heathers enjoy unlimited hall passes and excuse letters, and decide to play a cruel trick on a nerdy girl who happens to be Veronica’s best friend. The joke goes terribly wrong, resulting in the breaking up of a party and Veronica’s expulsion from the group by ringleader Heather Chandler. While attempting to make amends, Veronica (with J.D. at her side) accidentally poisons Heather Chandler, having just dismissed J.D.’s suggestion that they do exactly that. A hastily-forged suicide note covers their tracks, but their victim’s ghost remains prominent in Veronica’s psyche. After several comparably dark experiences, Veronica wants nothing more than to return to her previously-normal life, but J.D. has the conflicting goal of essentially murdering the entire student body. Without spoiling the denoument for those seeing the show for the first time, I will simply say that the final few minutes will not only have you on the edge of your seat, but also leave you pondering the concepts of right and wrong in this particular situation. This is by no means meant to suggest that Heathers: The Musical is without lighthearted moments, but even the hilarity is grounded in a macabre reality that never completely releases the audience from a feeling of impending disaster.

The cast is comprised of an outstanding brio of Trustus regulars, familiar faces from other venues, and a few first-timers, all of whom come together to create a believable and cohesive ensemble. Katie Leitner’s Veronica is immediately relatable and sympathetic, falling (as did most of us) somewhere around the middle of the school’s social spectrum. Presenting her as a latter-day Carrie, minus the pig’s blood, would have not only been overdone, but would also have somewhat absolved Veronica for her actions. Leitner displays her strength at creating three-dimensional characters by making Veronica a normal kid caught up in a disturbingly abnormal set of circumstances. As with her recent portrayal of Daisy Fay in Trustus’ The Great Gatsby, Leitner succeeds in being likeable but flawed. As her figurative reverse-mirror image, Michael Hazin provides a level of sync with J.D. that brings to mind a well-choreographed ballroom dance. Hazin offers a darker reflection of Leitner’s image, with J.D. flying (for the most part) under the social radar, as opposed to swimming midstream. Each character has the potential to survive through relative social invisibility, but neither their respective personalities nor the situations that arise allow either to embrace that option. Both Leitner and Hazin are in fine voice, and only a small suspension of disbelief is required, but their clearly trained and experienced vocal work almost cracks the façade of their being teenagers. Both are youthful twentysomethings in real life, and are physically believable as high school students, so this is hardly a negative point, but when they sing, it’s obvious that these are well-taught professionals.

Clearly reveling in every malignant power move and verbal smackdown, Brittany Hammock deliciously chews the scenery as Heather Chandler. Her alpha-of-all-alphas interpretation of the role is spot-on, taking command of the triad in everything from physical presence to the occasional “putting in place” of the other two Heathers. Interestingly, once she becomes a ghost, Hammock asserts her new quasi-immortality through a slightly softened approach to Veronica. Sometimes a whisper is more frightening than a shout, and Hammock utilizes both between her corporeal and ghostly forms. Though not physically connected to the world of the living, Heather Chandler becomes even more of a puppeteer after her death, as we see her leisurely chip away at Veronica’s sanity. Her eponymous cohorts, Heather McNamara (Rachael Mitchum) and Heather Duke (Jazmine Rivera) initially appear to be Heather Chandler clones with slightly less authority, but after her death, they begin to reveal more depth of character. Mitchum, while never coming across as deferential, is somehow the most humane of the three, heaping slightly less attitude and intimidation on her fellow students. It’s a subtle choice, but Mitchum makes it work well in setting up a moment of high drama in the second act. Rivera’s Heather Duke, by contrast, brings out the fangs and claws when Heather Chandler’s death leaves an opening for the group’s leader. Though not mentioned in the script, the performances of all three Heathers suggest a variety of control mechanisms employed pre-mortem by Heather Chandler. Combining Hammock’s dead/undead personae, one could easily see her slightly softening to control Heather McNamara, while displaying a more fierce approach to managing Heather Duke. Kudos to all three for creating a depth and texture that enhances the story while remaining faithful to the playwrights’ dialogue.

As “bad boy” football stars, Kurt and Ram, Paul Smith and Josh Kern are less defined by the script, yet never allow themselves to slide into caricature. At first they appear to be nothing more than bullying jocks, but a set-up midnight encounter with Veronica displays their more vile and predatory natures. Jordan Harper’s ever-put-upon Martha adopts a similar style, introducing herself as a stereotypical nerdy girl, then revealing herself to be much more emotionally textured in a second-act spotlight number that showcases her impressive vocal range. The rest of the cast fills in the remaining students and adults orbiting the main story, and there truly isn’t a weak link in the bunch. A particular standout is Cassidy Spencer, whose work I’ve not seen before, but look forward to seeing in future productions. As an ensemble member, Spencer may have had two or three lines, but most of her acting was done through face and body language, which she presented most memorably. (In reviewing my notes, I referenced her several times as “girl in denim skirt,” each time with a comment on her commitment to the scene, her character, and the reality established by the principal players.)

On the technical side, Heathers: The Musical is mostly successful. Sam Hetler’s set is streamlined, yet totally evocative of a neon-hued, white-tiled 1980s, Amy Brower Lown’s costume design is scrupulously faithful to the period and gives a respectful nod to the film, while maintaining an originality and freshness of vision, and Lighting Designer Frank Kiraly brings his customary skill at creating multiple settings with different combinations of shading and color. Choreographer Grayson Anthony and Musical Director Randy Moore keep the movements (both physical and musical) brisk and sharp, and Stage Manager Brandi Smith nicely corrals all of the elements into a cohesive and smooth production. My only real complaint is that the vocals, even in ensemble numbers, were a bit difficult to hear over the band. In talking with Moore and several cast members following the performance, I found out that there were several mic and sound issues the night I was there, and I feel confident that those small issues have since been ironed out. One other small issue is entirely script-related, as I had the same reaction when reviewing another production of the show earlier this year. The adults are double/triple cast, often with little or no time for costume or wig changes, which can lead to a bit of confusion as to which is whom at any given moment. Matthew DeGuire, Jonathan Monk, and Lisa Baker turn in delightful performances as the multiple grown-ups, but I do wish the script made it easier for them to change back and forth more easily.

Director Dewey Scott-Wiley has, as usual, assembled a winning cast and created a world which is both believable and captivating. I frequently find myself using the word “thoughtful” to describe her work, and Heathers: The Musical is no exception. In her Director’s Notes, Scott-Wiley observes that in today’s more violent society, things like murdering your classmates aren’t as outrageous as they were thirty years ago, and this level of directorial awareness is part of what makes the show work. By immersing the audience in an era-specific set of mores, she succeeds in getting stylized-yet-believable work from her cast while essentially giving the audience permission to laugh at things that would strike too close to home in today’s world.

Heathers: The Musical runs through 27 July, and tickets can be purchased online at Trustus.org, or by calling the Box Office at (803) 254.9732. They’re likely to go quickly, so don’t delay in making your reservations.

-FLT3

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

REVIEW: Trustus Theatre’s Sweat Takes a Steely Look at a Series of Lives in Free Fall

By: Theatre Editor Frank Thompson

“You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?

Another day older and deeper in debt.

St. Peter, don't you call me ‘cause I can't go.

I owe my soul to the company store…”

-From the song “Sixteen Tons" by Tennessee Ernie Ford

Life in Reading, Pennsylvania is anything but easy for the working-class folks at the turn of the millennium so carefully given life in playwright Lynn Nottage’s Sweat, currently running at Trustus Theatre through June 1. Wages are low, addiction plagues the community, and the local steel mill isn't supporting a living wage economy the way it once did. One of the few businesses that manages to survive is a dingy but welcoming dive bar, where the increasingly desperate mill workers come to drown their sorrows and celebrate their few-and-far-between successes.

Bartender Stan (Steve Harley) is a cynical but kindly sort, giving the impression of a man aged beyond his years through extensive post-graduate work at the School of Hard Knocks, while barback Oscar (Samuel Traquina) does his best to keep the shabby furnishings in shape. Stan serves as both host and blue-collar sage to his scrappy regulars Jessie, (Christine Hellman) Tracey (Dewey Scott-Wiley), and Cynthia (Lonetta Thompson). Despite their hard-drinking ways, the trio of women always make it on time to their jobs at the mill, where Dickensian working conditions and uncaring management make every day more grueling than its predecessor. Nonetheless, there's always a cold one and a kind word to be found at the tavern as soon as the shift is over.

These are hardscrabble folks, but despite their woes, birthdays are celebrated, laughter shared, and troubles temporarily anesthetized beneath the neon beer signs. Conflict arises when Cynthia's n'ere-do-well ex-husband Brucie (Darion McCloud) stops in to try and rekindle their romance, or at least cadge a couple of bucks for another drink, but the ladies handle him easily, giving the impression that his act is as old and shopworn as the work clothes on their backs. What the trio is unable to weather, however, is the slight elevation in rank of one of their own. Once Cynthia becomes the union representative, her air-conditioned office and business outfits drive a wedge between herself and Tracey, with Jessie caught between them. Wages and benefits are cut, hours increase, and the already beleaguered workers find themselves inching ever closer to indentured servitude while Cynthia tries unsuccessfully to change the hearts and minds of upper management.

Jason (Patrick Dodds) and Chris (De'on Turner) are the sons of Tracey and Cynthia, respectively, and find themselves trapped in the same dead-end jobs as their mothers, yet dream of better lives. In a nutshell, the rich get richer and the poor get not only poorer, but more hopeless. Opioid addiction, alcoholism, and an increasingly splintered circle of trust separate the group into warring factions, with more than a few shifts in alliances and sympathies as circumstances devolve. Through the use of a framing device centering around parole officer Evan (Samuel McWhite), we realize that Jason and Chris have spent eight years in prison following the show's central story. Their friendship has not survived, leaving Chris psychologically exhausted but determined to improve his life, while Jason's pain has manifested in white supremacy and barely-contained rage. By the conclusion, everyone is alive, but no one is unbroken. There is a vaguely happy ending for one or two characters, but not without a steep price. I won't spoil the twist(s), but will say that, just when you think you've figured out how things will end, you realize how quickly things can turn.

Director Erin Wilson has assembled a cast of heavy-hitters, and there isn't a weak link among them. The sense of ensemble is tangible, and it's clear that each actor supports his/her character through a studied understanding of the rest of the group, as well as the piece as a whole. There's a steady rhythm to the story’s pacing and progression, which churns as reliably as the oft-referenced machines on the mill floor, and the performances work in harmony with that understanding, gracefully doing justice to the Pulitzer-winning script.

The fact that there are no “standout" acting turns is actually a great compliment to Wilson and the artists under her direction. The stark reality of Sweat is the product of a skilled and well-trained team of professionals who never flinch at the sharp edges of their characters’ experiences or attempt to stand out in a production woven as a firm tapestry. As I remarked to a friend at last Thursday's performance, this show is not only a gripping story, but also a de facto master class in acting.

Chet Longley's scenic design captures the essence of every grungy watering hole the audience member has ever encountered. From the ragged jukebox to the mismatched and well-worn furnishings, the barroom which serves as the primary locale, creates a sense of creeping decay which mirrors the declining quality of life in a town which has gone from boom to near-bust in less than two generations. A few incidental scenes are indicated through the simple but effective use of two sliding panels and a forced-perspective back alley, and the bar's final scene of gentrification is a bit shinier, but nonetheless conveys a final blow to anything resembling a place of comfort for the poor of Reading's increasingly stratified population. The show's final revelation is all the more gut-wrenching against the backdrop of what looks like renewal and restored hope.

There are only three chances left to see this masterful example of the artists' craft, and anyone seeking a distinguished modern tragedy presented by those who have perfected it should make sure not to miss it. Though not without comic relief, Sweat is unbending in its depiction of the travails of those on society's economic underside, as fiery as the steel mill inferno the title alludes to.

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

REVIEW: Fierce & Fabulous Cabaret - an Entertaining Concert with Potential for Growth

by Frank Thompson

   (As always, I open with the disclaimer that I am a frequent director and a member of the Board of Trustees for Workshop Theatre.)

   The Fierce & Fabulous Cabaret, running through Sunday at Workshop’s new home at Cottingham Theatre on the Columbia College campus, bills itself as “celebrating the women of Broadway,” and there’s certainly no shortage of celebrated talent onstage. Featuring several well-established Midlands-area chanteuses alongside a few new faces/voices, last Saturday evening’s performance brought the audience to its feet more than once with multiple show-stopping bravura turns by some of the best female vocalists in town.  The acoustics at Cottingham are nice and hot, and while live mics are utilized, I doubt if even half the cast needs any amplification. These ladies know how to project and sell a song, and if you’re looking for a showcase of outstanding music plucked from Broadway hits from the 1950s to today, you’ll find it at The Fierce & Fabulous Cabaret.

   Following a full-cast rendition of  “I’m A Woman” from Smokey Joe’s Café,  Regina Skeeter sets the bar high with “Home,” one of the lesser-known but most vocally powerful ballads in The Wiz. (This was my first time seeing Skeeter perform, and she delivers strength as well as a sense of dreamy wonderment to her turn in the spotlight.)  Columbia legend Valdina Hall absolutely soars with Sondheim’s  “Send In The Clowns,” and Robin Gottlieb’s signature number, Cabaret, quite literally had the crowd shouting for an encore. The second act rocks open with Katrina Blanding  delivering  Dreamgirls’  “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going” with her usual powerhouse voice and innate storyteller’s gift for conveying a song’s emotional foundation. On Jason Robert Brown’s  “I Can Do Better Than That,”  Emily Northrop engages the audience from intro to post-applause, demonstrating  not only impressive vocals but also an understanding of  true cabaret technique, and Mandy Applegate Bloom’s  “She Used To Be Mine” from Waitress brings down the house in classic eleven-o’clock-number style.

   The rest of the cast offers solid work across the board, and there truly isn’t a weak link, though those mentioned above are particular standouts. While watching the performance, I began to realize that I was missing the sense of an overall emotional arc, framing piece, or central theme to segue the audience from each number to the next. Some of the performers simply took the mic and started singing, others utilized a few lines of dialogue, and a few (see above) took a moment to connect with the audience. If this sounds nit-picky, it’s because The Fierce And Fabulous Cabaret is of such high quality, I truly hope it comes together as a more thematically cohesive piece. Who are these women? Are they the actual people we see onstage? If so, great! I would suggest having each song tied to the singer's life experience, allowing a glimpse of the real-life woman known to many only as her onstage personae.  (Gottlieb and Northrop are particularly skilled at bonding with the audience, as is Emily Clelland, who relates a personal experience that motivated her as a performer, followed by an enthusiastic song-and-dance rendition of  “If They Could See Me Now” from Sweet Charity.)  A few of the pieces, while quite splendidly performed, seemed randomly inserted. Kathy Seppamaki’s  “Christmas Lullaby” (Songs For A New World) is one of the best-sung ballads in a show full of A-list talent, but feels somewhat out of place between two comedic bits, and without context . Lou Boeschen’s  “On The Steps Of The Palace” (Into The Woods) is lovely, and dovetails nicely into Rodgers and Hammerstein’s  “Stepsisters Lament,” yet nothing is said about the Cinderella myth. This would have been a perfect opportunity to comment on any number of themes relevant to modern womanhood. Once I realized that I was seeing a sort of hybrid concert/cabaret, I just sat back and enjoyed the music, all the while thinking how interesting it is to watch the artistic process unfold. With a stronger sense of identity and a commitment to one specific reality/style, The Fierce And Fabulous Cabaret could easily tour as a professional show. The talent is there, the music is solid and representative of classic and contemporary Broadway, and the basic structure is in place. All it needs is a more defined sense of identity and an answer for “why is each song in its particular spot?”

   The set is simple and sleek, designed by Patrick Faulds to provide tiered seating for the cast, who stay onstage the entire show. As usual, Dean McCaughan’s steady hand keeps sound well-balanced and smooth, though I was disappointed to see that the production utilizes pre-recorded music tracks instead of live accompaniment. For future gigs, I would suggest a single pianist who could also serve as a narrative voice, presenter, and general point of connection between the singers and their audience.

   The Fierce And Fabulous Cabaret is well worth your time and money exactly “as is,” and I strongly recommend you see it now. With a little scripting revision and specific motivation behind each number, it could have a significant future, and you’ll want to catch this act from the very start of its evolution.

   There are only three performances left, Friday and Saturday at 8pm, and Sunday at 3pm. Tickets can be purchased by calling (803) 799.6551 or visiting Workshoptheatre.com

-FLT3

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 -- Workshop Theatre Raises the Bar with Other Desert Cities

“In a bold step outside of musicals and light comedies, Workshop has taken a chance with a more serious dramatic piece, and the payoff is a moving, thought-provoking, and occasionally unsettling production which closes on a hopeful note.”

Marshall Spann and Dell Goodrich

As always, I will open by disclosing that I am a frequent director and member of the Board of Trustees for Workshop Theatre, which is of particular importance in the case of Other Desert Cities. Organizational affiliations aside, I strive for neutrality and objectivity with all of my reviews, and do my best to put on blinders concerning friendships and professional connections with cast members, performing companies, etc. That said, here’s my take on the production, which runs through Sunday afternoon at Columbia College’s Cottingham Theatre.

Wow.

Under the skilled guidance of Jefferey Schwalk, who makes his Columbia directorial debut, this finalist for the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Drama comes to glorious, heartbreaking, and oft-hilarious life through the work of a uniformly strong and experienced cast. While known for quality and high production values, Workshop has set a new standard for itself and its audiences with this distinguished and compelling drama/comedy which spends the first quarter of the show providing subtle exposition through a series of intelligent wisecracks and bitingly witty exchanges, gradually morphing into a dystopia of family secrets and suppressed resentments. Unless you were lucky enough to grow up in an extremely happy and conflict-free home, you’re likely to recognize at least some of the dysfunction, which makes Other Desert Cities relatable to almost everyone. (Seriously, while the script is brilliant, it could be mildly to moderately triggering to those with unresolved family-based emotional wounds. There’s no physical violence onstage, but as far too many of us know, words can sting much more than a slap to the face.)

The plot is a straightforward one, so I won’t risk creating spoilers with an in-depth synopsis, but the basics are that Brooke Wyeth (Dell Goodrich) is a writer from NYC, visiting her childhood home in California for the first time in six years. There she encounters her acerbic mother, Polly (Debra Kiser), who openly criticizes Brooke’s liberal politics and presumably humble lifestyle. Brooke’s father, Lyman (Bill Arvay), is a former B-list cowboy/detective film star who has made a name for himself as a GOP politico representing the “old guard Hollywood” brand of conservatism. Clearly based on the Reagans, Polly and Lyman both reference time spent with “Ron and Nancy,” and drop a few more right-wing names throughout the script, with Lyman presenting himself as the more reasonable and decent parent while Polly revels in her dragon-lady persona. Polly’s brother, Trip (Marshall Spann), and fresh-out-of-rehab aunt, Silda (Resi Talbot) complete the family circle, as the quintet attempt to spend a pleasant Christmas Eve together despite their differences. Looming over the holiday is the shadow of Henry, the deceased third Wyeth sibling. As with most families thrown together at the holiday season, age-old irritants quickly surface, and resentments are only somewhat tempered by the Yuletide spirit. While substance abuse doesn’t directly drive the plot, drugs and/or alcohol are frequently consumed, subtly contributing to the aura of desperation each character brings to the situation. Through the course of the show we discover more than a few hidden psychological scars, a couple of turnabout motivation revelations, and a second-act reveal that forces the audience to rethink prior assumptions about the entire family. If you’re looking for a morality tale with clearly-defined “good guys and bad guys,” you won’t find it here. Each of the Wyeths has secrets, and everyone shows the capacity for cruelty and kindness, often within the same sentence or two.

The performances are uniformly solid, with Goodrich’s Brooke as a particular standout. The events unfold from (presumably) her point of view, and Goodrich wrings pretty much every emotion out of her character as the story progresses. (Having seen and admired her work for years, I must say that this is one of her strongest roles to date.) Brooke is the adult child who never fit in with her family, which Goodrich clearly conveys without ever resorting to melodrama. Part of what makes Other Desert Cities so impressive is its commitment to stark realism, and the cast never flinches or sugar-coats the subject matter. Arvay’s commanding stage presence and imposing physique lend themselves perfectly to the ascot-sporting benevolent patriarch whose explosions are few and far between, but Vesuvius-like when they do occur. Kiser’s performance dovetails nicely with Arvay’s, bringing a constantly nagging but easily dismissed balance to the parental team. One can easily envision them having (perhaps unknowingly) having raised their children by the “good cop/bad cop” technique. As Silda, Talbot creates a sassy, aging peacenik with flower-child sensibilities. While battling her own demons, Silda serves as an advocate for Brooke, yet holds a few of her own cards out of sight. Having seen her in mostly musicals and comedies, I was most impressed with Talbot’s dramatic acting chops. As does Goodrich, she takes on a character that could easily drift into caricature, and portrays a three-dimensional human being whose life choices took her down a different path than the one her sister chose. Spann’s Trip, who exudes a friendly enough persona, is arguably the only glue binding Brooke to the rest of the clan. At times cynical, and at others genuinely hopeful, Spann artfully captures the spirit of a young man who has accepted his mundane yet lucrative life as the producer of a courtroom reality show. Given that Lyman’s film career was financially rewarding but undistinguished, it makes sense that Trip would see himself as having similarly “succeeded” in show business, and Spann subtly incorporates touches of Arvay’s aura of undeluded self-satisfaction. The script has each of them acknowledging that his work is anything but high art, yet neither approaches this admission with shame or resignation.

On the technical front, the unit set, designed by director Schwalk and Patrick Faulds, is fully realized and realistically furnished. Not only does the family room appear cared for and complete, it features various books, works of art, and bric-a-brac contributed by the cast (including a painting by the late Gerald Floyd, a Columbia theatre icon.) This touch of personalization will likely go unnoticed by most, but I suspect it provided an extra element of actor familiarity with the space, which added a layer of believability to the performances. Another nice touch is a series of framed movie posters depicting Lyman’s silver screen days. Costume Designer Alexis Docktor brings her well-established skill to the production, with an outstanding use of color, dressing Brooke in shades of grey and black, with the rest of the cast in bright pastels and primaries. Brooke is the only family member not living behind some manifestation of a façade, and freely admits to having been hospitalized for depression, while the others (at least initially) suppress and hide their respective dark experiences. Lighting and sound are ably handled by Dean McCaughan, who does a particularly nice job of side-lighting the small section of the outdoors glimpsed through the room’s French doors, and Stage Manager Jeff Morris keeps everything moving at a steady pace while coordinating a prop-heavy show.

Other Desert Cities is almost flawless, but I would be remiss not to mention the minor issue of occasionally having found the more intimate moments of conversation a bit difficult to hear. Cottingham Theatre’s acoustics are not ideal, and the actors perform without mics, so if you want to catch every word, I would suggest taking a seat somewhere around audience center or closer.

In a bold step outside of musicals and light comedies, Workshop has taken a chance with a more serious dramatic piece, and the payoff is a moving, thought-provoking, and occasionally unsettling production which closes on a hopeful note. It may not be “happily ever after,” but by the epilogue, it looks as if the Wyeth family may finally be at peace with itself.

Tickets for Other Desert Cities may be purchased online at Workshoptheatre.com, or by calling the box office at (803) 799-6551.

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

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: OnStage Productions Reaches New Heights With Heathers by Frank Thompson

By: Frank Thompson

OnStage Productions’ decision to tackle an all-teenage rendition of Heathers: The Musical (High School Edition) was a bold move.

Those who recall the 1989 film featuring Winona Ryder and Christian Slater will no doubt wonder how “watered down” the high school version is, compared to the original big-screen story, which tackled some pretty adult themes and situations. The answer is “not much.” A few of the more salacious scenes are referenced as offstage action, the violence is slightly less graphic, and what is arguably the film’s most (in)famous line regarding a chainsaw is suggested rather than repeated verbatim. Beyond that, the show stays largely faithful to the source material.

OnStage Executive Director Robert Harrelson and Director David LaTorre bring the audience an unflinching production in line with Harrelson’s laudable commitment to presenting material exactly as written. If you’re easily offended, or squeamish about seeing teenagers performing a stylized-yet-realistic show that includes suggestive, abusive, and occasionally shocking material, you may want to pass on this one, but you’ll miss a gem full of the next generation of Midlands theatrical talent.

This isn’t as innocent as Bye Bye Birdie, or sweetly cute-naughty in the style of Grease or Hairspray, but it isn’t supposed to be. It’s a well-penned stage version of a classic, albeit dark, coming-of-age movie and when performed by such a talented cast, it can legitimately compete with much of what’s on offer from the various theatre companies featuring adult casts.
Rachael Sprankle shines in her first feature role as Heather Chandler, the saucy, take-no-prisoners leader of the school’s most popular clique. (If you haven’t seen the film, all three members of this power trio share the first name of Heather.) Sprankle’s stage presence is commanding, and her voice perfectly suited for the 80s-esque score. The darkness of the story begins fairly early on with her death and continues with her presence as a ghost surrounding her friends and enemies. Sprankle brings a slightly detached, ethereal quality to the afterlife identity while never losing her alpha-female edge established in the early scenes. Her transition is subtle, yet tangible, and introduces a layer of meta-reality which subsequent “ghost” characters sustain. Her fellow Heathers, Heather McNamara (Ivy Munnerlyn) and Heather Duke (Harper Kirk), are the teenage equivalents of Darth Vader to Heather Chandler’s Emperor Palpatine. They enjoy tremendous influence and social power over their peers, yet still play second fiddle to the superior who occasionally keeps them in check.

Kirk, who also co-choreographs the show with Katie Edelson, exudes a convincingly menacing presence as she bides her time, clearly waiting for the opportunity to assert herself as the group’s leader. When she finally so does, it’s one of the production’s most chilling moments by merely putting her hair in a scrunchie. Munnerlyn’s Heather McNamara positively drips attitude and privilege but is given less attention in the first act than Sprankle and Kirk. I was on the verge of feeling like her character got shortchanged until she burst into song in Act II, revealing her to be the most textured and conflicted member of the group. Munnerlyn unapologetically embraces the intensity of her big moment, showcasing an impressive voice and unexpected fragility.

The show’s creepily romantic love story between the Heathers’ Eliza Doolittle-esque protégé, Veronica (Caroline Quinn), and her brooding loner lover, J.D. (Paul Smith), drives the plot, and both Quinn and Smith are at at the top of their respective games. Veronica, a semi-nerdy nobody when the show begins, quickly gains popularity under the Heathers’ malevolent tutelage. Though still too young to drive or vote, Quinn is already a seasoned stage veteran with several professional credits on her resume, and it shows. Veronica is the show’s most complex role, and Quinn creates a clear character arc as we gradually realize the events are seen from her point of view. With what is arguably the strongest voice in a show full of outstanding vocalists, she captures Veronica’s fragility and uncertainty with an almost childlike softness while still belting out powerful show-stoppers with aplomb. Smith’s J.D. is equally compelling as the ethical relativist foil to Veronica’s by-the-book absolutist. Complete with black trench coat and tousled hair, J.D. is eerily reminiscent of the all-too-familiar troubled teenage school shooters of the Columbine tragedy, down to his fascination with firearms and twisted sense of justice. Smith manages to sustain a sympathetic character while embodying a figure of nihilistic menace, playing an antihero whose diabolical acts are unsettlingly presented as almost justifiable.

There isn’t a weak link in the show, but several standouts deserve mention. As Ram and Kurt, the bullying, predatory football stars, Cameron Eubanks and Tucker Privette exude menace and danger, especially in their scene with Quinn, where the two characters come dangerously close to succeeding in an attempted sexual assault on Veronica. (In all fairness, while gripping, this scene should probably come with a trigger warning for its realism.) As the show’s “fat and ugly” girl, Martha Dumptruck, Katie Edelson (who is neither fat nor ugly, yet effectively portrays someone convinced by her peers that she is both) provides several heart-wrenching moments of pathos, capped by a second act power ballad that literally brought the opening night audience to its feet. Alongside Jeymerson Lopez’s delightfully befuddled Principal Gowan, Lexi Peake introduces some welcome comic relief as the New-Agey teacher Mrs. Fleming, and Michael Rego is superbly distasteful as J.D.’s bullying father. The rest of the cast features multiple talented up-and-comers who are fully committed to creating and sustaining three-dimensional characters with personalities and backstories, making even the smallest of roles memorable.

The production’s drawbacks are few, but I would be remiss to exclude them even if they hardly diminish the excellence onstage. A couple of the soloists are a bit difficult to hear, and several lines of dialogue could do with more projection, as well. The set, while appropriately macabre, is slightly out of sync with the neon-hued 1980s fashions. (To be fair, it serves double duty with Love Bites, a vampire-based comedy running in rep with Heathers, and its grey brick motif likely works perfectly for a campy Hammer Films-style Transylvanian setting.)

Heathers is a marvelous showcase for the rising stars of the Columbia area, and an impressive achievement for OnStage Productions, which reaches a new level of quality with each show.

The show runs through this weekend. Call 803-351-6751 for resevations.

Frank Thompson is proud to serve as JASPER’s Theatre Editor.

REVIEW: Workshop’s Jake’s Women an overlooked gem in Neil Simon’s Oeuvre

“He said, I got tongue-tied by a teacher in Tallahassee

I got french-fried by a waitress in Idaho

I got way-laid by a widow in Wyoming

Oh Lord, he said, women gonna be the death of me but what a way to go.”

Dr. Hook – “What A Way To Go”

by Frank Thompson

Hello, friends! Happy to be back in the saddle, following a nasty couple of weeks under the weather. (Drink your juice, get a flu shot, and dress warmly!) My first review of 2019 requires that I play “Full Disclosure” (see The Addams Family: The Musical for the reference.) I am a frequent director with Workshop Theatre, and serve as Vice-President of the Board of Trustees. I do my best to remain completely objective, but feel it only ethical to establish the relationship up-front. That said, let’s talk about the show.

Jake’s Women, the first official production in Workshop’s new “home” at Columbia College’s Cottingham Theatre kicks off a new era, a new venue, and a new optimism for all involved. Last season saw “guest appearances” at Cottingham, with a show-by-show arrangement. Without revealing anything classified, I can say that Workshop and Cottingham have come to a more substantial relationship. With a full-sized, legitimate theatre space, and the amenities and advantages that come with it, Workshop is poised to re-establish its position as one of Columbia’s premiere performing houses.  I say this in my capacity as a critic, not as Workshop “family,” but the venerable theatre group seems strongly poised to re-capture the glory days of Bull Street. Special props to Executive Director, Jeni Decamp McCaughn, for steering the ship through a few stormy years, yet holding a steady hand at the helm, with husband Dean McCaughan dedicating countless hours to helping his wife weather the storm, and a mostly-volunteer staff and crew devoting their talents to resurrect Workshop’s past identity. We’re straying into promotional territory, so I will shift my focus to the show, not the organization.

“With a full-sized, legitimate theatre space, and the amenities and advantages that come with it, Workshop is poised to re-establish its position as one of Columbia’s premiere performing houses.”

Jake’s Women tells the story of a widowed and remarried man, Jake, who is struggling with the devastating loss of a beloved spouse, attempting to re-build his life by dating and falling in love with Maggie, his second wife. Maggie is loving, pretty, and embrace’s Jake’s daughter with sincere affection. Throughout the performance, the all-female cast (minus Jake) remain far upstage, watching, ignoring, and occasionally reacting to his experiences. While hilarious, Jake’s Women jumps between reality, (possible) dreams, and manages to work in a couple of tear-jerking moments internal to the hilarity. The plot is somewhat meta-on-meta, and it takes a few minutes to understand the structure and symbolism of the ever-present women in his literal and figurative background.

Another confession: I am not a huge Neil Simon fan, with the exceptions of Barefoot In The Park and Murder By Death, a mid-70s TV film that BEGS for a stage adaptation. Director David Britt is, however, a Simon aficionado, and his love of the material shines through in every scene.

Without dropping spoilers, I can say that Jake encounters various women in his life, including his daughter, his shrink, his deceased ex-wife, and his potential new wife, should he and Maggie divorce. Through a series of flashbacks, we meet ex-wife Julie, who hasn’t let death remove her from the realm of the living.

If this sounds Quentin Tarantino-esque, that’s because it is. Realities and perspective frequently swap places, and, (again, no spoilers) and it takes a few minutes to understand the conceit. For anyone who knows Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction, Simon’s Jake’s Women provides a similar feeling of “eureka!” when the structure becomes obvious. Trust me, you’ll have a difficult time not shouting “ah-ha!” when things become clear.

“If this sounds Quentin Tarantino-esque, that’s because it is.”

Re the cast, Director Britt has assembled an A-plus group of performers. In the eponymous role, and as the sole male perspective, newcomer Damian Garrod displays a level of skill that will likely place him at the forefront of casting calls, should he continue in the Columbia theatre community. Jake is clueless and mildly chauvinist, but tries to be a genuinely nice guy, and Garrod nails the role. In my notes, I wrote “Young George Clooney,” “Jimmy Stewart,” “Joey Tribbiani,” (Friends) “Charlie Brown,” and “Mark Hamill in Star Wars.” Garrod channels these, and other actors/characters with seeming effortlessness , never allowing himself to slide into caricature, or shatter the illusion of his own interpretation of the world surrounding him.

As Maggie, Jake’s second wife, Lou Boeschen shines while demonstrating dramatic acting skills that I had never before seen, knowing Lou from “big, happy, musicals.” While she is certainly adept at roles in shows such as Anything Goes and The Marvelous Wonderettes, she also has the chops to believably portray a hopeful but world-weary Maggie. I was quite impressed with this new discovery from someone whose musical talent I have always admired.

The rest of the cast is uniformly strong, featuring Dee Renko as Jake’s funky-meets-hip sister, Karen, who truly wants the best for her brother. H. Loretta Brown provides a sympathetic gravitas as psychiatrist Edith, while Riley Campbell and Raelyn O’Briant share the role of Jake’s daughter, Molly, with Campbell taking the role as a young girl, and O’Briant picking up as the older Molly. As the deceased Julie, Jennifer Lucas O’Briant straddles the line between dream/hallucination and corporeal presence. Rounding out the cast is Melissa Frierson as Sheila, the new girlfriend we meet in act two. Each of the above presents a fully-developed, serious, yet entertaining character in Jake’s life. There’s not a weak link in this ensemble cast, which makes it a pleasure to enjoy.

The set, designed by director Britt, is minimalist without seeming skimpy, and fits the shifting times, perspectives, and realities of the story. Alexis Doktor’s Costume Design perfectly fits both the characters and period. Stage Manager Caleb Carson does an excellent job of keeping the show moving. Though Jake’s Women is almost two hours long, counting the interval, I was shocked when each act ended. Britt has clearly emphasized pace, which is always a good idea with Neil Simon. Dean McCaughan, as always, runs a tight sound/light board, and Columbia College’s Patrick Faulds delivers an effective and creative lighting design, which moves the show along while enhancing specific moments.

Jake’s Women is not the most well-known of Simon’s work, but it is one of the most engaging and entertaining shows I’ve seen in some time. The entire cast is onstage for the full evening, with the actors playing semi-detatched, yet still-aware figures in Jake’s psyche.

As for the drawbacks, they are few. A couple of actors need to project more, which shouldn’t  be difficult, and (as much as I love minimalism,) I’m ready to see the newly–rebranded Workshop bring us a fully-realized set. The script, while clever and enjoyable, is benignly surreal. Fans of Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction will enjoy a Tarantino-esque gradual reveal, which lets us know that various time periods and flashback sequences prevent approaching the work as a linear timeline. It takes a few moments to catch onto the conceit. If you’re confused at first, just give it a few minutes.

Jake’s Women is a bit of a mind-bender, and (quite honestly) not quite up there with Simon’s absolute best, but it’s a charming, enjoyable show, performed by a talented cast. There are, as the saying goes, worse ways to spend an evening. It didn’t change my life, but I laughed, I cried, and I had one hell of a good time. Jake’s Women runs Thursday-Sunday, so don’t miss your chance to see this hilarious, heart-warming, and occasionally tear-jerking “sleeper” show by the master of urban comedy.

On a final note, I couldn’t suppress a guffaw when the twenty-something “ghost” of Julie, misunderstanding the timeline, shouts at Jake with “EEEEW! You’re 48 and I SLEPT with you last night?”

I will be 49 in June. Ouch.

Make sure your weekend plans include Jake’s Women. It’s a lighthearted show that has moments of sincere pathos and seriousness, and a lesser-known work by a master of American comedy. You’ll be glad to have “discovered” it, and have a delightful time laughing at the mirror-image of life that Simon artfully crafts.

-FLT3

Jake’s Women continues its run Thursday-Sunday at Collingwood Theatre, Columbia College. Tickets can be reserved by ringing the Box Office on (803) 799. 6551, or by visiting WorkshopTheatre.com