Art and censorship are in the dock for "Mae West and the Trial of Sex"

Dan Norman Photography

 There's no question that history repeats itself. Sometimes, it's the good, but usually it is the bad, and the very ugly.

So, in a time of anti-"woke" government action, slashed federal funding for the arts, and the freaking takeover of the Kennedy Center by a president whose idea of art is having a solid-gold toilet, we come to Mae West and the Trial of Sex, John Heimbuch's new play, produced by Walking Shadow Theatre Company.

While West courted controversy throughout her career, the play centers on a remarkable trial that played out in 1927, centered on her hit Broadway play, "Sex." Early in the year, the play drew the ire of multiple power brokers, including Randolph Hearst, who wanted to "clean up" Broadway -- for the kids. (It's always for the kids, isn't it?)

While "Sex" -- and a couple of other edgy Broadway plays -- were targeted with raids, the real target was a new work by West that was set to premiere. This was "The Drag," which centered on transsexual life -- and advertised 20 authentic drag artists from Greenwich Village.

In the face of the raids and the charges, West and her producers fought the resulting charges and took the case to court.

That's the background, but where Heimbuch's play really works is in the exploration of these complex characters. West was no pure spirit fighting for creative rights. Instead, she was a complex woman who craved success, and could be cutthroat when she thought she needed to be. This created victims intended (the original playwright of "Sex," who sold the rights in a near-"Superman" level deal) and unintended (the talented drag artist who was set to star in "The Drag," and who helped write much of the script.)

That's brought home by Emily A. Grodzik's terrific performance. Her first moments on stage are compelling, as she captures the look and voice of West to a T. However, this isn't just an imitation, Grodzik inhabits the complexities of the character. You soon forget you are watching an actor playing a famous celebrity, and just sink into this thrilling, maddening character on stage.

Grodzik is joined by a company of six who take on the dozens of other characters we meet, from family and actors, to the politicians, police officers, and producers who inhabit this world. Director Alison Vincent fosters a real sense of energy, with scenes shifting at a breakneck, Jazz-Age pace, but all of this never becomes confusing or overwhelming. This is aided by the actors who provide sharp, distinct characters at each turn. 

And while the parallels to modern times are obvious, Heimbuch leaves those to the audience to draw. The script is all about these brief months in the winter and spring of 1927, even if the past few years of the culture wars have shown that these age-old issues -- of artistic freedom, censorship, and living life as the person you truly are -- are not going away.

Mae West and the Trial of Sex runs through June 22 at the
Crane Theater.

'Broomstick' takes us into the the season of witch

Photo by Bruce Silcox

I like spooky things. Ghost stories. Horror movies. Misfits records. It's a way to process and come to terms with the everyday horrors of living in the modern world, while getting that rush of safe fear that comes when you know it's "only a movie."

Broomstick, now playing at Open Eye, takes us deep into the spooky. John Biguenet's one-woman show centers on a nameless witch, who has welcomed us to her home on a creepy evening to talk about old times. 

The conceit allows Biguenet to bring out bits and pieces of witch lore, while slowly deepening the main character into something unique. We move from familiar children's stories, such as a riff on Hansel and Gretel, to darker topics, including dead lovers, cursed neighbors, and suspicious townfolk who barely tolerate this solitary woman.

These deeper moments, in turn, allow Broomstick to dig into the Witch's position in her community. As a single woman, she lacks traditional power, so instead uses whatever guile she can to stay ahead. She also isn't afraid of long-simmering vengeance, such as bringing blights on men (and women) who have wronged her, even to the point of using witchy powers to sink a boat after her lover is claimed by the sea.

Cheryl Willis uses all of this to create a vivid, memorable character. The Liverpudlian offers a master class in holding the audience in rapt attention, as she moves from story to story. Her accent places the action in the British Isles, though it really could take place anywhere where differences are mistrusted.

Lighting, sound, and Joel Sass' amazing set complete the spell. Odd sounds, brilliant cues, and a set that brings a witch's hovel to life all make for an enveloping experience.

Broomstick is a perfect piece of Halloween-season theater, full of scares and chills. It also is a terrific study of a character finding her way through the world in any way possible, and a showcase for a talented performer.

Broomstick runs through Oct. 31 at Open Eye Theatre.

Also, if you are interested in more scary theater, the annual Twin Cities Horror Festival is fast approaching. This curated festival, in its lucky 13th incarnation,  has presented some amazing (and often quite bloody) work in th3e past. This year's festival is again at Strike Theater, and runs Oct. 23 to Nov. 3.

"Lincoln's Children" offers intriguing premise, somewhat unsatisfying script

Even though it is not a complete success, Lincoln's Children shows great promise, and Fortune's Fool premiere is buoyed by a number of excellent performances.

Playwright Mike McGeever puts a lot on the table, as he explores both a contemporary historian's search to authenticate her family stories, and one of those stories -- were her ancestor is an indentured servant (essentially, a slave on loan) in Lincoln's Illinois household around 1850. 

The women, both named Chloe, negotiate these worlds as best they can. The contemporary Chloe joins with a white Lincoln scholar, Montgomery Mathers, who is looking to recharge his career after some weaker than expected sales.

Chloe thinks she has it. Her family story is that her ancestor served in Lincoln's household, and may have had an intimate relationship with the future president. However, Montgomery wants proof, and the typical sources aren't going to provide that. After all, Black people in America were still property in large parts of the United States, and even in a free state like Illinois, they didn't show up in a lot of the typical records.

In the 1850 side of the story, we see the growing relationship between Lincoln and Chloe, all under the watchful eye of Mary Lincoln. In both cases, Chloe needs to negotiate a world where her skin color causes people to make automatic assumptions about her abilities, intelligence, and motivations.

All of these ideas swirl around the play, but McGeever isn't able to focus them into a fully satisfying show. Plot strands start, but are not given a full exploration. Intriguing characters come and go, but some of the secondary ones lack depth.

Still, the company does an excellent job with the material, led by Kyra Richardson as the dual Chloes, While the characters come from different worlds, Richardson highlights their connections, especially a desire to make the best of a world ready to discount them at every step.

Nicholas Nelson makes for an upright, somewhat imposing Lincoln, while Jeremy Motz has an appropriate, exhausted air as slumping academic Mathers.

Lincoln's Children runs through Sept. 22 at the Crane Theatre.

"English" explores language and communication

Photo by Liz Lauren

My memories of studying a foreign language mainly come down to struggling with dour German novels and trying to describe seeing Motorhead, in French.

As a middle class American, a second language was more about ticking a box for college than a necessity. For the characters in English, Sanaz Toossi's Pulitzer-Prize-winning play, it means so much more. Learning English could open the door to becoming a doctor, getting a green card, or moving to Canada to be near their granddaughter. 

In this heartfelt and touching production, a co-production between the Guthrie and Chicago's Goodman Theatre, we only spend about 90 minutes with the quintet of characters, but they live in the memory long after the final curtain.

English takes place in Iran in 2009. Four students have gathered in an English-immersion classroom to prepare for a language proficiency test. To foster their emerging skills, instructor Marjan has a strict "English only" rule. The moments the characters swap between their second language and Farsi are represented by shifts in accent -- heavy for when they attempt English, straightforward when they use their native tongue.

As the months unfold, relationships are built and conflicts arise, especially between Marjan and strong-willed Elham, who sees learning English as a necessary evil to getting into an Australian university. Necessary evil may not be strong enough. Elham is in a war with the English language, upset that it has been foisted as a barrier to her plans, and reluctant to give up her own culture and tongue. 

English is at turns funny and insightful, with the cast -- who all have transferred from the Goodman run earlier this year -- showcasing considerable chemistry. Toossi's script also has plenty of subtle grace notes, which aids in making the characters fully realized. It also helps to survive a late-show twist that felt out of place within the rest of the action.

English runs through Aug. 18 at the Guthrie Theater.

Little Shop offers ghoulish fun at the Guthrie

Photo by Dan Norman

It's saying something (and I think that something is good) that the most disturbing parts for a modern audience when faced with 1980s darkly comic musical Little Shop of Horrors is that shop assistant Audrey is in a clearly abusive relationship, complete with jokes about bandages and trips to the hospital.

Mind you, her abuser meets a grisly end. Then again, so does everyone in the show, apart from sentient killer plant, Audrey II, and -- if the finale is to be believed -- all of Cleveland. 

I'm getting ahead of myself (and, um, spoiler warning?). Little Shop of Horrors, now running in a delightful production at the Guthrie, takes its cues from the 1960 Roger Corman film (a weekend well spent by all involved), and was developed into an Off Broadway musical by Howard Ashman and Alan Menken in the mid 1980s.

We follow sad sack florist Seymour, who works in a failing shop owned by Mr. Mushnik, in the heart of Skid Row. Seymour is obsessed with plants, and during a total eclipse he found an unusual plant that defies classification. The plant -- dubbed Audrey II in honor of the shop assistant he pines for -- is sickly, until Seymour discovers that it likes to feed on human blood.

As this is a horror story, Seymour doesn't run screaming. Instead, he continues to feed it. The plant's need for more food, and Seymour's desire to free Audrey from her evil dentist boyfriend, Orin, moves us up the food chain, eventually leading to... yes, you know, Cleveland.

The Guthrie production has multiple layers of nostalgia. There is that for the original 1960s film and setting, brought to life by scenic designer Lex Liang and costume designer Sully Ratke. That layer is also hardwired into the show, with the Menken's music evoking the rock n roll and soul of the early 1960s at every turn.

There is also a more subtle nostalgia for the Off Broadway musicals of this ilk. Produced at a time when Broadway shows were more known for gaudy excess than dark comedy, Little Shop of Horrors is part of a whole slew of shows with an edge you wouldn't have found in the bigger theaters. That has shifted over the years -- in part due to the success of shows like this, along with society's general embrace of irony -- to where that edge is pretty much smoothed over.

Not that it can't be entertaining, and this production -- solidly directed by Marcia Milgrom Dodge -- certainly is. The company is excellent throughout, from Will Roland's lovesick Seymour to China Brickey's conflicted Audrey to Robert Dorfman's crusty Mr. Mushnik. 

Two performances stand out. As Orin, David Darrow channels James Dean by way of Dennis Hopper's character in Blue Velvet. Funny and scary at the same time, it will put the fear of the dentist back into your soul. (Darrow is also excellent in a variety of other roles, including an Andy-Warhol-like early visitor to see Audrey II).

Multiple performers bring Audrey II to life, with T. Mychael Rambo providing the booming, enticing voice of the killer plant, giving delightful weight to his proclamations of "feed me!" and "suppertime!"

Little Shop of Horrors runs through Aug. 18 at the Guthrie Theater. 

Guthrie brings humor and heartache in "Skeleton Crew"

 

Photo by Dan Norman

In a depressed Detroit, four auto workers try to keep a hold of whatever they can, even as the staff shrinks, pressure never stops, and there are persistent rumors that the plant is going to close.

Dominique Morisseau's Skeleton Crew is exactly what you want from a contemporary drama, with complex, breathing characters inhabiting a very real space. At the Guthrie, the show gets a muscular, vital production that highlights the skills of the talented cast.

As often happens, our workers are a tight-knit group. Faye (Jennifer Fouche, making her Guthrie debut) is closing in on 30 years on the line. Not only does she know the ins and outs of the whole plant, but she is the local union rep, there to keep management honest and the remaining employees working as long as possible.

For Faye, the conflict comes when middle manager Reggie (Darius Dotch, who was in the 2020 production at Yellow Tree, which was cut short by the pandemic) tells her in confidence that the plant is going to close. As the union rep, she has an obligation to her co-workers, but Reggie is also family who has bootstrapped his way from the assembly line to a job with a collar and tie.

We get two representatives of the rank and file. Shanita (Stephanie Everett, another Guthrie debut) is pregnant and working every hour she can, loving the work and hoping to build something for her child. Dez (Mikell Sapp, also in the Yellow Tree production) sees the work as a stepping stone, and dreams of opening his own repair shop.

With the plant closing, a string of burglaries giving management fits, and general distrust, the situation is rife with tension. Yet, beneath the drama there are deep connections among these characters. No one is the "bad" guy; they are just flawed people trying to do what is best for themselves and their families. Morisseau's script is also very funny, which helps to not only release the tension, but add additional, real, dimensions to the characters.

The actors are up to the demands of the script, presenting fully fleshed out characters at every turn. Fouche is especially strong as Faye, who sits at the center of the whole piece. We not only get the character's deep warmth, but also her hurts, desires, and a sense of a secret shame that haunts her.

Opening night's performance was interrupted by a medical emergency, where the audience was asked to clear the theater. After a lengthy delay, the company was able to return to the stage and complete the final few minutes of the show to a well-earned ovation.

Skeleton Crew runs through June 9 at the Guthrie Theater. 

Rasputin

Jungle's "A Jumping-Off Point" looks hard at storytelling and appropriation

Photo by Lauren B. Photography

Who gets to tell stories? Issues of cultural appropriation have bubbled up to the mainstream in recent years, and A Jumping-Off Point gives us an intriguing, complex look at the issue. You will have to move quickly to see it, as it closes this weekend at the Jungle Theater. 

This tight, three-person play centers on Leslie Wallace, a successful playwright who has just gotten her big television break with a series order from HBO. However, a figure from her playwrighting past has come to haunt her in the guise of Andrew. The two studied in the same cohort in college, and white Andrew took a stab at a play about the Mississippi delta.

Leslie found it not just awful, but offensive, so she took it to make her own. Now, Andrew is looking for some credit. From there, the play spirals into the mad world of television production, with Andrew in tow as an unwanted producer. 

Inda Craig-Galvan's play is best when it works under your skin, examining uncomfortable topics, often centered on cultural appropriation and who gets to tell stories. The script hints at the madness of television production, especially around the above topics, but could have benefitted some additional characters to flesh those ideas out. We do get Leslie's best friend, Miriam, who finds herself stuck between the two other characters.

The cast is fantastic and director Sha Cage mines the humor and the menace (especially Gabriel Murphy's creepy Andrew) out of the material.

A Jumping-Off Point runs through May 19 at the Jungle Theater. 

Four Humors brings back Rasputin in all it's gory glory

You may know him from history, stories, or Boney M's disco anthem. Rasputin is a fascinating character with a particularly gory end. Perfect fodder for Four Humors, who have remounted their titular Twin Cites Horror Festival hit for a short run at Open Eye Theater.

The company-written production takes us to the end of December, 1916, in St. Petersburg. If you know your history, that's just before the most tumultuous year in Russian history, with the October Revolution just months away.

To the rich and powerful men gathered at Prince Felix Ysupov's palace, those concerns were far away. They had only one thing in mind -- end the life of the powerful priest who had bedazzled the royal family and turned upper crust Russian society upside down. By the end of the night, they will have poisoned, shot, suffocated, and finally drowned the man.

Joining the prince are Duke Dmitri Pavlovich and Valdimir Purishkevich (noted, in the program and throughout the show, as a "far-right politician"), who have hatched a plot to end Rasputin. 

Or have they? The play is told Rashomon-style, with each conspirator recounting the evening. Not only does this allow for three different perspectives on the events, but allows the company to tell the story in three distinct ways.

The first, from the perspective of the Duke, is a ribald tale, full of dark humor -- Rasputin pulls out a gun and asks the dinner party of they have ever played "Us Roulette" -- and plenty of brutal jokes at the expense of the high-class company at the table. Vladimir's paints the Prince as a pratfalling fool who engages in the murder almost by accident.

And the Prince's tale? Well, there's a reason why this show premiered at the Twin Cities Horror Festival.

The quartet of creators -- Ryan Lear (Felix), Brant Miller (the Duke), Allison Vincent (Validimir), and Matt Spring (Rasputin -- are all gifted comic performers, but they also expertly hit the play's darker notes. That creates an evening that is not just funny, but one that cuts deep, especially as it delves into issues of class, control, and the presence of the devil on Earth.

Rasputin runs through May 18 at Open Eye Theater. Also, Four Humor's vicious take on Lolita (dubbed, a Three Man Show, with Lear, Miller, and Spring as the cast) will be presented Saturday, May 18. Tickets are going fast. Don't sleep on these shows.  

Also, if you think "Rasputin" is a cool tune, but want to hear it with a Celtic punk flair, check out this cover by local legends Boiled in Lead.

Ten Thousand Things offers special "Spitfire Grill"

Photo by Tom Wallace

 

The Spitfire Grill is special for me.

The heartfelt, heart-tugging musical has a place deep in my heart, and the current Ten Thousand Things production more than does the material justice. It's certainly the finest production of the material I've seen, as the company's stripped-down production style emphasizes 

The Fred Alley/James Valcq musical was in development at the turn of the century, when I was working in Door County. Alley was co-founder and a creative force with American Folklore Theatre (now Northern Sky Theater), and while Spitfire was in development outside of AFT, it was certainly in the air through 2000 and into 2001, as the creators prepared for a workshop at Playwrights Horizons, in anticipation of an Off-Broadway run. We chatted about his excitement and hopes for the show at his farmhouse in rural Fish Creek in mid-April, the landscape coming to life after a typical long winter. 

Alley died of a heart attack on May 1, 2001, before the workshop began. The work went forward, with composer Valcq taking the lead in preparing the show for its Off-Broadway run in September.

And yes, that September. The musical opened near the epicenter of a national tragedy. It earned solid notices (and even a few best-of-the-year mentions and award nods) but its life has really been away from the big city, where this small-scale musical can really spread its wings.

The Spitfire Grill centers on a small Wisconsin town haunted by the past. It takes a young woman, herself haunted, to be the catalyst for a change. Percy Talbot is fresh out of prison and decides, based only on an autumn landscape photo, to settle in Gilead.

The local sheriff is skeptical, as Gilead is a dying town with few prospects for employment -- or want of a stranger, one who is a convict no less.

Still, he helps Percy out by getting her a place to stay and work at the Spitfire Grill, owned by Hannah, a hard-nosed Gilead lifer. A trio of additional characters fill in for the rest of the town: friendly Shelby, her angry husband Caleb, and the town busybody Effy. 

The plot centers on two things: a raffle dreamt up by Percy and Shelby to raffle off the Grill, which Hannah has been trying to sell since her husband die; and a mysterious stranger who serves as a physical specter for this haunted town.

However, this musical is about the inner lives of the characters much more than the engine of the plot. All of them have flaws -- several are broken when it starts -- and most of them struggle to make themselves, and their town better.

This is brought out through Valcq's folk-infused score and Alley's dynamic lyrics. Merge these, and you have a musical that is a tough test for the actors, not due to any vocal pyrotechnics, but through the depths they need to travel to get the best out of the songs.

TTT is a perfect place for this, with its minimal staging and focus on clarity and depth of performance. Like all company shows, this is presented in the round with the house lights up. Like their characters, the actors can't hide, and they use that to generate terrific performances, led by Katherine Fried as the troubled Percy. That's aided by Michelle Barber as Hannah and Katie Bradley as Shelby. The balance of the cast -- George Keller, Tom Reed, and  Dominic Schiro -- fill in the emotional spaces as needed, and help to bring the whole town to life.

And while I've been talking about the heartache and tough journeys, The Spitfire Grill is also funny and charming, with light hearted songs about bad food at town diners and endless Wisconsin winters helping to keep the mood from getting too dark. (And if you have seen the movie: the musical takes a different path in the end.)

Bright staging helps to make it all work. The show evokes the beauty of a rural, Midwestern town, but has to do that with nary a tree or leaf in sight. Instead, with the aid of movement director Jim Lichtscheidl, the company members become those inanimate objects -- a bus in the opening scene, a hallway and stairs as Hannah walks through her empty house.

It's most impressive in Percy's act two standout, "Shine." Hurt and heart broke, Percy is taken a special autumnal vista. In this case, it's the rest of the cast, waving gently in the breeze, Here, the music (provided by Peter Vitale and Tyson Forbes), staging (co-directed by Marcela Lorca and Michelle O'Neil), and performance all come together for a few minutes of pure theatrical magic.

I'm always going to have a spot for The Spitfire Grill in my heart, but this production is a tremendous interpretation. It runs through June 9 at various venues. 

Guthrie creates unique theater magic with all-day History Plays

The company in Henry V (Photo by Dan Norman)

 After nearly 40 years of theater going, I experienced something new Saturday evening at the Guthrie Theater.

On Saturday, the Guthrie presented a trio of Shakespeare's History Plays (Richard II, Henry IV, and Henry V). The marathon started at 10 a.m. and took us through the tumultuous years around the turn of the 14th century.

At the top of Henry V at 8:30 that evening, as the company took the stage for the prologue, and the audience would not let them continue. Instead, they gave the cast a standing ovation for the incredible work already done in the day's first two shows. 

Was it earned? Oh, hell yes. 

While not perfect, the History Plays offered a tremendous taste of what theater can do. Over the span of eight hours, we saw men and women, mighty and low, navigate through treachery, conflict, friendship, and love. It's the culmination of years of work by Guthrie Artistic Director Joe Haj to bring these massive works into a streamlined, thrilling experience. It's aided by a terrific backstage crew and a company of 22 hard working actors who have put in months of rehearsal to get the shows on their feet.

The production is drawn from four Shakespeare works (often called the Henriad). For the Guthrie's production, two of those works -- Henry IV, Part 1 and Henry IV, Part 2, were compressed into a single show. We start amid the reign of Richard II, run through the arrival of the usurper Henry IV, see his troubled reign through various rebellions and the wayward youthful adventures of his son, Prince Henry, who then reigns as Henry V, and invades France to bring lands he believes are English under his thumb. 

That's a lot of story, and there are a lot of characters crossing Jan Chambers' clever set. Yet the course of the story is always clear, the conflicts are sharp, and the motivations --simple or complex -- are always earned.

The only bump in the road comes during the latter parts of Henry IV, made up of a truncated Part 2. The way they are joined means that the death of the traitor Hotspur at the hands of Prince Henry overshadows much of the remaining action. Some of that is due to John Cantron, whose floppy-haired Hotspur tops the Prince, King, and even Falstaff. 

Jimmy Kieffer's Falstaff is great, and there are strong performances throughout the company, including Erin Mackey's charming portrayal of Princess Katherine and Charity Jones' terrific moments as John of Gaunt, offering up the famous "this sceptered isle" speech with all the gnawing fear of what is to come of his England.

Still, this is all about the kings. Three actors bring wildly different energy to their wildly different monarchs. Taylor Michaels King commands the stage as the doomed Richard II, with the King's madness lying just below the surface. It's a magnetic, mesmerizing performance.

William Sturdivant expertly plays against that as the to-be-Henry IV, giving us a character with more straightforward motivations -- he's angry about being banished and having his property seized by the crown -- that evolves into a deeper more thoughtful person once the crown is on his head.

That evolution is also present in Daniel Jose Molina's performance, moving the wild, vagabond Prince Henry -- only interested in hanging out with his Falstaff and his lowlife friends -- to a stern and driven friend. Some of the most affecting moments of Henry IV and Henry V come as the now King comes face-to-face with his friends, and can show no mercy now that he is the monarch.

 If you can manage it, there is another marathon three-show day on May 10. All three shows can be seen over weekends in April and May. And for individual shows? Well, they all have their unique charms. King gives you probably the best single performance of the trio in Richard II, Henry IV gives you Cantron's Hotspur, the joy of Falstaff and the growth of Prince Harry. And Henry V has Shakespeare in full command of his skills, and provides thrilling, crowd-pleasing ride.

The History Plays run through May 25 at the Guthrie Theater.

Frank's 'Ironbound' illuminates an immigrant's journey

Photo by Tony Nelson

It really isn’t a surprise that a key moment in Martyna Majok’s New-Jersey-set Ironbound turns on a Bruce Springsteen song. Like the best of the Boss’ songs, these characters live on the margins as they suffer defeats, win victories, and struggle to keep moving on.

Ironbound, making its regional premiere from Frank Theatre, centers on Darya, a Polish immigrant who has been in the States for decades and is struggling to hold on. Her son has stolen her car and disappeared. The factory where she worked has long been closed and Darya makes ends meet by housecleaning. And her boyfriend, Tommy, has been unfaithful for some time.

That’s the plot, but the play really turns on Darya’s character. Complex and contradictory, Darya above all is trying to survive in a tough world. That has made her a hustler, playing every advantage she can find to stay a step ahead. That means tapping her boyfriend’s phone to find out he’s been unfaithful, and then holding onto that information where she hopes to trade it for the cash to get a car, and go chase after her son.

As the play unfolds, we discover more and more nuances of Darya’s character. Two long flashback scenes take us back to the early 1990s and the mid-2000s. In one, she is somewhat happy with husband Maks, a fellow Polish immigrant who dreams of moving from Newark to Chicago, and become a blues star. This dream is driving a wedge between them, as Darya doesn’t want to give up the relative stability they have forged. That she is sure that she is pregnant only intensifies that feeling.

In the 2000s, we find her at a low point, about to sleep rough on the grounds of the now-closed factory after her second husband has beat her to the point she needed to get out of the house. Here, she meets Vic, a teenager trying for a late-night hustle, who instantly becomes concerned with the battered woman at the bus stop.

All of this allows us to see Darya’s complexities, and that is the real power of the show. The production turns on a terrific performance by Brittany D. Parker in that role, as she brings all the different layers of Darya to life. While the three men we meet are supporting roles, each performance is also solid, especially Benjamin Dutcher as her musical, lost first love, Maks.

As with any Frank show, the entire production is rock solid, especially Joe Stanley’s grungy set, which brings this broken-down corner of Newark to life (well, minus the rats). Wendy Knox directs with her usual unflinching insight, helping to bring these intriguing characters to fully realized being.

After a long three-plus year layoff, Frank has come roaring back, first with Fetal last fall (that production is scheduled to return) and now Ironbound. Hopefully this energy continues, as a theater scene with Frank is a much better one.

Ironbound runs through Feb. 11 at Gremlin Theatre.

Frank's "Fetal" digs into reproductive rights

Photo by Tony Nelson

Frank Theatre, after a three-plus year gap, has returned with a searing look at America’s crumbling reproductive rights and health care system.

 

Fetal, a world premiere by Trista Baldwin, takes us to a Houston-area clinic on June 24, 2022 – the day the Supreme Court ended federally mandated abortion rights in the United States. For the women – three there for the procedure, and an aide to help them through the process – even the difficult-to-jump-through hoops for an abortion may quickly be gone.

While the characters are there for the same thing, their journeys are all different. Cass is in Texas for grad school, who has been through unwanted pregnancies before. Lucy is nearing 50, has a daughter and a history of miscarriages. Liv is a teenager from an ultra-conservative family who desperately needs her family to not find about the pregnancy.

The are aided by Anne, who volunteers at the clinic for her own reasons. These varied characters allow Baldwin to dig into the reasons why they have chosen to have the abortions. Anne also serves as an in-the-mind foil for each of them; giving voice to the self doubt that each feels on this morning.

Fetal doesn’t just interrogate reproductive rights, but the whole experience of pregnancy, childbirth, and the after effects in America. (Long story short: it’s pretty terrible; abortion rights aren’t the only crumbling part of our health care system.) The physical highs (love making) and lows (the rest) also get a hearing. Baldwin uses these moments to give extra texture and to deepen the characters.

The capable cast gives the characters form. Elena Yazzie (as Liv), Julia Valen (as Cass), and Kate Beahen (Anne) all give superb performances, but Carolyn Pool’s Lucy is sublime and is the glue that holds the show together.

Pool inhabits every atom of the character, who is older and somewhat wiser than the others, and who also has some of the most harrowing experiences, especially in her experiences when she returned to work after giving birth to her daughter. It's a topic that could quickly be reduced to slogans, but Baldwin, the cast, and director Wendy Knox avoid that. 

Oh, it’s an angry play about what has already proven to be a dark day in U.S. history, but by grounding it in the reality of these four women, that makes this rage real.

Fetal is being presented in the tight confines of Franks’ studio space, so seating is very limited (40 per performance). Masks are required. Post-show discussions are held after Sunday performances. Visit online for additional details.

Reality may, but 'Life Sucks' doesn't

Photo by Nicole Neri, 

Existence is a sad veil of tears, as we move from one moment to the next, never quite understanding what is happening to us. The brief moments of joy are overwhelmed by the sense time is slipping away and the fear that the fleeting joy may never be felt again.

Enough on Taylor Swift The Eras Tour. Let's talk about Life Sucks, the terrific adaptation of Chekov's Uncle Vanya from a pair of local stalwarts, Girl Friday and Open Eye Theatre.

Aaron Posner's version moves the action from the dying days of the Russian middle class to, well, whatever dying days we are in right now (capitalism? human life? the era of peak television?). We still get a gaggle of folks confused by love, life, and the everyday need to get out of bed.

The basics of the story are the same. A group of characters linked by family and friendship spend a couple of days together, as long-simmering feelings and feuds come to a head. It's a play short on action, but deep in emotions and insight.

We can start with Vanya, who longs for Ella. She is married to the Professor. Vanya was once his student, but now hates the man. In the middle of this is Sonia, the Professor's daughter who pines for  Dr. Aster. He, in turn, is mainly focused on working, drinking, and fretting about the state of the environment. Rounding out the cast are Babs, a family friend who has long been a fixture in the household, and Pickles (not the drummer), a somewhat eccentric soul who also lives on the estate.

What Posner does is take the pieces of Chekov's play and builds it into something quite contemporary. There aren't just asides to the audience, but full-on fourth-wall breaks. The characters may stop and ask you about your own desires, both for the characters on stage and in the life outside. At his deepest despair, Vanya turns a monologue into a stand-up routine.

For the most part, these updates only help the action. This may be a breezier take on the material, but there is still a lot heft here, as the characters dig deep into the state of their lives (notes version: they aren't too happy). Yet, this isn't a mope fest. Their harsh reality is tempered by strong friendships and an eventual desire to muddle through it all the best they can.

A strong cast aids in the journey, led by Georgia Doolittle as Ella and Elizabeth Efteland as Sonia. Both performances craft deep, multi-dimensional characters that are at the heart of the play. Sam Landman also pulls off a Vanya we are invested in, even though the character is essentially unlikeable. 

As always, Joel Sass directs the show with a mixture of invention and insight, as the staging employs every inch of Open Eye's tiny stage.

Life Sucks runs through Nov. 5 at Open Eye Theatre. 

Open Eye explores 'American' history in 'The Chinese Lady'

Photo by Nicole Neri

Lloyd Suh's The Chinese Lady tackles a fascinating corner of U.S. history, as it centers on Afong Moy, the "first" Chinese "lady" to land on these shores, back in 1834.

The various scare quotes are vital here. I could even add them around "U.S. history." While the basic facts are known, most of the details are missing, and have been filled in -- like so much of the last 500 years on this continent -- by interpretation, conjecture, and a sheer desire to make the conquers out as the "good" guys.

The play, which has received a striking area debut at Open Eye Theatre, digs not just into who this woman may have been, but how Asian cultures (and Asian women especially) are reduced to a string of exotic symbols and cues. 

Here are the basic facts. Afong came to the United States and was put on display in a New York City museum. As a living exhibit, Afong would discuss her life in China and America, and also demonstrate bits of her culture -- including walking to showcase her small feet.

Suh imagines Afong's growing discomfort, as her two-year contract never seems to end, and she finds herself coming closer and closer to how general Americans view her and her culture. Her only confidant is Atung, who translates. Atung has been in the United States longer, has a stronger understanding of their position in the world, and is, thus, harder and more cynical.

The play unfolds with plenty of repetition, as we see Afong's presentation several times over multiple years. She evolves over the years, with actor Katie Bradley making subtle shifts in posture, mannerisms, and especially her voice to mark the character's evolution. Michael Sung Ho's Atung appears more static, but there are also small shifts in his character. The pair help to bring this pair of ciphers to full, rich life.

The entire piece, aided by a team of fine designers (especially Matt Lefebvre's costumes and Joel Sass' sets and props), draws the audience into this story. Playwright Lloyd has heavy ideas in play, but the sharpness of the characters means it never overwhelms the audience. Give credit to the performers and director Eric Sharp for always keeping an eye on the humanity beneath the symbols.

The Chinese Lady runs through Sept. 24 at Open Eye Theatre. Visit here for more information.

Walking Shadow invites you to a thrilling "Feast"

No local theater company has cut a swath quite like Walking Shadow. They have produced award-winning productions, clever Fringe shows, and a number of experienced-based entertainments. Cabal, the company’s magic-based escape room, is still going strong, while the Pandemic brought REBOOT, a Zoom-based show where I got to interview a nascent, self-aware artificial intelligence

Feast, their latest show now running at the Black Forest Inn, merges the company’s different aspects. At it’s core, it is a one-woman show about grief, revenge, and humanity. It also offers a pre-Feast feast at the Black Forest Inn. Most importantly, it is absolutely brilliant.

Megan Gogerty’s play riffs on Beowulf, turning the action away from the titular hero and onto one of the “villains” of the piece, Grendel’s mother. (If you need a quick Beowulf recap: Grendel attacks some noisy Norsemen. Beowulf come in, takes down the monster, and then defeats the monster’s mother in an epic battle beneath a lake. Typical hero stuff.)

She has resurrected herself – made a new body of clay – and has gathered the descendants of those present that terrible day to tell her side of the story. This includes recasting her son as a man not about angry violence but one interested in stubbornly defending what he thought was right, to recounting her abhorrence when she saw her son’s arm, hanging as a trophy on the wall.

Beowulf is fertile ground for a feminist recounting, as the epic reduces its female antagonist to little more than a nameless mother of a monster. Gogerty digs deep not only into the love a mother has for a son, but the natural anger against those who hurt him.

Isabel Nelson uses this framework for a terrific performance. From the moment she staggers onto the stage until the character’s eventual epiphany, Nelson commands every inch of the playing area. The script is at turns funny, tragic, and frightening, and the performer captures every nuance of that in her performance.

It’s aided by Allison Vincent’s tight direction, that keeps the show on track, even if Gogerthy’s script loses focus for a time near the end. The minimal staging – a table and a handful of props – further intensify the performance and the story.

While this certainly isn’t traditional “dinner theater,” the pre-show meal certainly adds to the experience, as it plays not only into the concept of the play, but replicates the experience where stories like Beowulf were often shared. (There are also show-only seats at each performance, and while those patrons don’t get a meal, they do get a mid-show cookie.) 

With a small venue and limited run, tickets are extremely limited.
Feast has been extended to April 1. In addition, Walking Shadow’s John Heimbuch will present a one-man Beowulf on March 18, 25, and April 1 prior to the meal. Tickets and more information can be found at Walking Shadow’s website.

Learning to love musicals

A good friend and fellow lover of theater (I'm pretty sure we were in a play together all the way back in 7^th grade) posted an article on Facebook about Hamilton and noted that the author's negative slant made him, at last, interested to see the show, as he has long hated musicals.

The thing is: I know where he is coming from.

For the longest time, I felt the same way. Why is the action stopping every few minutes for them to sing? People don't do that in real life, do they?

As a theatergoer, this didn't really make much of a difference to me. You can have your well-scrubbed singers; I'll be over here in this grimy found space watching some “real” drama.

Once I started actually writing about theater as my job, I knew that attitude wasn't going to make it. I had to meet my prejudices head on.

For me – and likely a lot of others who didn't “get” musicals – the breaking into song that broke the flow of the show. I wanted realism, damn it!

How did I change, then? Well, a lot of it was just careful study over decades of experience watching musical theater. That isn't the a quick-and-easy solution demanded by modern society, so here's another way to try. Do you like movies and television? Have you enjoyed the various Star Wars, Marvel comics, heck, courtroom dramas, political thrillers, or John Wick?

Those aren't realistic either. No one has laser swords in our world. Being exposed to radiation gives you cancer, not give you big muscles and turn your skin green. And the courts, boardrooms, and the mean streets of any city (that inevitably looks like Toronto) aren't at all like you see on TV. Yet we buy into them because we agreed to a contract with the art: If they are able to immerse us in their “reality,” we'll stay with them until the end.

Musical theater, then, is just another kind of reality for us to enter. There are plenty of rules to be followed and and twisted and broken, but they are there. And honestly, if you just accept the baseline reality – a world where people break into song when it is demanded – half the battle is won.

Of course, it's not just a matter of turning a switch on in your brain. There are easier places to start than others. Three hours of A Little Night Music or Les Miz may not be the best way to start. Also, I can't point to any running productions at present as putting dozens of performers in front of a full house of often august theatergoers isn't wise.

Still, there are easier places to start. Apart from having a phenomenal cast, excellent direction, and Kander and Ebb's cracking great songs, the filmed version of Chicago presents all of the musical numbers as fantasies in the mind of the murderess Roxie. The “real” world and Roxie's world are clearly delineated so you can be content to know that “Cell Block Tango” isn't really taking place in the jail. (Also, “Cell Block Tango” is seven of the most brilliant musical minutes captured on film.)

Keeping with Kander and Ebb, there's Cabaret. Except for one harrowing number in a mid-'30s German beer garden, all of the musical numbers are confined to the Kit Kat Klub, where they comment on the action of the drama, or offer texture to life in pre-Hitler Germany. (Also, you get “Mein Herr,” another few absolutely brilliant musical minutes.)

There are other examples, though maybe not as tailor made as these. The Hedwig and the Angry Inch film has its moments, but the effort to expand the story's world robs it much of the stage version's power. There, the show is presented almost entirely as a concert by Hedwig (one song is from the view of collaborator-turned-rival Tommy Gnosis, though still presented as a performance on stage).

If you dig into this, there are plenty of ways into the genre. Even Hamilton – which is rapped and sung throughout – is an easier jump than you might think. The show never makes any pretense of being a “realistic” portrayal of Alexander Hamilton's life or the founding decades of the United States. Then again, that's what theater is – people playing at reality to uncover the truth, even if that's told through an 11 o'clcock number.

Interstate explores queer life with pop score, plenty of heart

Photo by Rich Ryan

Interstate is a joyful, messy ride with a trio of characters trying to find their place. It’s at turns funny, tragic, heartfelt, and at times a bit unsure of its footing. Just like growing up, or being in a band. Or coming out.

Created by Melissa Li and Kit Yan, the world premiere musical now running at Mixed Blood Theatre takes us back to the now halcyon days of 2008, where an Asian queer band from New York City vans it across the country in search of their diffuse online audience.

Adrian is a singer who leaves, promising her girlfriend to stay in touch and her mother that she’ll get her law school application in on time. Dash is a poet who has become an online hero to other transgender folks looking for a community. He isn’t just out to see the country – he wants to stitch a community together.

As they cross the heartland, we see the impact the tour has on Adrian and Dash’s relationship, and the one they are having on their listeners. We see this primarily through Henry, a teenager transitioning to become a man; a difficult prospect in his small minded small town.

Li and Yan based the musical on their own tour from 12 years ago as Good Asian Drivers. There are a lot of touring stories here -- Interstate is a shared bill with a puppet show short of being full Spinal Tap – but they are often shown through the lens of gender and sexual identity.

That comes through especially in Kai Alexander Judd’s performance as Dash. The character is learning how to be a “man” on the fly, and has absorbed some less-than-savory lessons, which comes to a head in a South Dakota bar where he first, kisses his musical companion without permission, and then “man ups” against a couple of yokels.

The behavior shocks the pair, and it causes the kind of break-up drama you expect in a band story. Adrian, you see, has label suitors who want her as a solo act. The twists are somewhat predictable, but the end result is not. 

Much of that is down Henry, whose transition – which takes him from Kentucky to the queer Mecca of San Francisco – gives the story its real heart. Much of that credit can be laid at the feet of Sushma Saha, whose touching, nuanced performance gives all of the diffuse parts of Interstate greater focus.

Even when the show takes detours into internet trolls, bad reviews, and harsh audiences, it doesn’t lose its cross-country heart. The music is largely composed of everyday modern pop hooks that will fade from the memory by the time you get home from the theater, the lyrics – and the overall story – stay with long after the final bows.

Interstate runs through March 29 at Mixed Blood Theatre.

Frank triumphs again with The Convert

Photo by Tony Nelson

It’s been a decade since Frank Theatre tackled the work of Danai Gurira, but the wait for The Convert was more than worth it.

Frank’s 2010 production of Eclipsed was -- certainly in the mind of this reviewer – one of the best shows of that year. The Convert promises to be same for 2020. It’s a smart, heartfelt, and searing look at the toll colonialism has on the people where “civilization” has come.

The play finds us in Rhodesia at the end of the 19^th century, and in the comfortable home of Chilford, an African who has converted to Roman Catholicism. He struggles with money and his mission – to convert the souls of the villagers around him to the true faith.

Into this world comes Jekesai, a young woman hoping to escape an ugly, forced marriage to a man who already has more than half a dozen wives. Chilford takes her into his home, and discovers that she is a quick study, especially in matters of faith. Jekesai – renamed Ester – converts and engages in the same crusade of Chilford.

All around them, however, is unrest. The British have turned the landscape into mines and pushed the local men to work in them. Taxes have begun to crush the locals, who need to pay just to have a place to live on lands they may have occupied for centuries.

That boiling anger turns to the locals who have “sided” with the British, Chilford and Ester; and their Westernized companions Chancellor and Prudence. That anger eventually explodes, which brings the fragile lives these characters have built crashing down around their heads.

Photo by Tony Nelson

Like any play directed by Frank’s Wendy Knox, these are not simple characters and any messages you try to take away from it are fraught with contradictions and troubles. The key for The Convert is one thing that is missing: white faces. While there are no British portrayed on stage, you can feel their weight over all of the proceedings.

Gurira doesn’t paint the traditional African tribes as any kind of paradise (see the forced marriage above) but it is clear that what has replaced it isn’t any better, even if it did bring concrete floors, nice furniture, and cricket.

All of this is brought home by the terrific performances seen from top to bottom in the show. All of the characters are equally well rounded, even Warren C. Bowles’ Uncle – who seems to be just an ogre intent on ruining young Jekesai’s life at the beginning – shows more depth in his later scenes, while the seemingly civilized Chancellor (AJ Friday) shows a darkness that was always there, just beneath the surface. Other performances are equally fluid and rounded, especially that of Hope Cervantes (part of the Eclipsed cast from 2010) as Prudence.


Leads Yinka Ayinde (Chilford) and Ashe Jaafaru (Ester) are the heart of soul of the show. Ayinde shows us the confusion and doubt that lies just beneath the surface of his character, giving this devout man so much soul.

It is clear that Jekesai/Ester is the smartest character in the play, and Jaafaru plays that to the hilt. Her eyes are always soaking up the scene around her, and she makes it clear that her mind is always a few steps ahead of everyone else. All of this gives her final haunting speech all the more weight, as if we are listening in on a tale that has been spoken around fire pits and fireplaces since the beginning of time.

The Convert runs through March 15 at Gremlin Theater.

Satire runs deep in The Ugly One

Photo by Dan Norman.

We all know the bromides about beauty (“beauty is in the eye of the beholder”; “beauty is only skin deep”). We’re told that those who pursue beauty are vapid, vacuous, or vane. Yet we flock to every new technique to tighten our stomachs, erase crow’s feet; or just consume endless programs about those who take self-improvement to the extreme (perhaps hoping to catch sight of a plastic surgery disaster or two).

In other words, Marius von Mayenburg is mining a deep vein in The Ugly One. And that produces theatrical riches in Walking Shadow Theatre Company’s deft production at Open Eye Figure Theatre and director Amy Rummenie.

The story of a “hideously ugly” man whose life is transformed – first for good, and then for something else – by being given a new face fits perfectly with Walking Shadow’s previous work, as the company has long explored ideas around identity and image.

Our “ugly one” is Lette, a research electrical engineer who has created a new… thing that will make things run better than before. He is all ready to deliver the news of the product at a trade conference when his boss and associate spring the news on him: His hideous appearance in no way can be connected with the new creation.

Disorientated and depressed, Lette looks into plastic surgery. More than a few nicks, tucks, and cuts later, he has a brand new face: One so beautiful it could sell the new electric doohickey to an Amish farming family.

At first things are great. Lette’s standing with his job and his wife go through the roof. He even attracts the attention of consumer electronics groupies (including a rich woman and her snide son who are engaged in activities that would make Aleister Crowley blush) on his journeys to different trade shows.

The good times come to an end when Lette notices his face on another man. And then another. And another. Soon, his beautiful face has become common, and – as last week’s news – Lette finds his status tumbling down once again.

While the play is loaded with rich satire, it’s the quality of the characters – and the performances – that makes The Ugly One more than a lost episode ofBlack Mirror.  Sean Dillon leads the way as poor Lette, who is not the most likeable of characters. Still, Dillon makes us feel the character’s pain, temporary joy, and final despair in a way that is nearly heartbreaking.

The rest of the cast (including nice turns from Edwin Strout and Julie Ann Nevill) doubles up for the various characters, with Corey DiNardo particularly good as Lette’s conniving assistant and the rich woman’s son who is able to see the world for what it is.

The Ugly One runs through Feb. 16 at Open Eye Figure Theatre in Minneapolis.

Dog Act: The apocalypse will not be televised, but we will sell tickets to it

Ariel Leaf and Joe Wiener (Photo by Kari Elizabeth Godfrey).

The end of the world is on everyone’s minds. Sure, it has been hanging out in the back of conscious thought for as long as humans first gained sentience and thought, “Hmm, this is nice. But it won’t last,” but the intensity of our end-of-the-world dreams has only gotten stronger.

Environmental disaster. Economic collapse. The still-lingering threat of nuclear destruction. It seems like we are a thin veneer of civilization away from becoming unwilling “Road Warrior” reenactors, fighting each other tooth and nail for the limited remaining resources.

Liz Duffy Adams’ Dog Act moves the apocalypse deep into the past. Now, the few survivors don’t even have gasoline to fight over. It’s just the remaining scattered trash of our society to pick over, and mutant rodents for dinner.

While the world is dark, that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for entertainment, humor, and heartfelt emotions. The same can be said of Adams’ play, and the current production from Fortune’s Fool Theatre at the Gremlin.

In it, hope comes not from some guy who founds some letters that needed to be delivered, but from traveling vaudevillians. These company wander up and down the landscape, providing entertainment for the scattered survivors, immune from some of the degradations around them by a code that protects performers from the scavengers and cannibals that dot the land.

Even with that, our company is in dire straits. They are down to two: Zetta, the proprietor and main performer; and her loyal Dog, a man who has abandoned most of the ways of humanity to be Zetta’s loyal friend.

Their goal is to get to the coast, which – somehow – will get them to China, a long fantasied-about land where the company has a standing invitation for a command performance. In their way are two pairs of folk: Mysterious fellow travelers Vera Similitude and Jo-Jo the Bald Faced Liar; and cannibal scavengers Coke and Bud.

Vera and Jo-Jo join up for Zetta and Dog, and Vera tells of a nearby community where learning is still valued. As they trudge their way there, they are pursued by Coke and Bud, who want the youthful Jo-Jo for an important ceremony, and an even more important post-ceremony meal. As quickly as you can say “Red Kangs are best,” they are all ensnared in the adventure.

The twists of the plot are fairly easy to see, but it’s the quality of the characters and performances that gives Dog Act its heft. Ariel Leaf and Joe Wiener are convincing as our main double act. Leaf brings both grit and naïve charm to Zetta, who faces each new setback with a bright determination to find a way to a better life. Wiener matches this as the loyal Dog, who isn’t as sure about what is to come, but will stay loyal to his companion to the end.

The balance of the cast also does solid work, with Nissa Nordland Morgan’s Jo-Jo – and her shouted, emotionless storytelling that manages to be funny and scary – a particular highlight.

Director Ben Layne keeps a firm hand on the proceedings, and Ursula K. Bowden and Corrina Knepper Troth do an exemplary job with the set and props. This is dominated by Zetta’s travelling wagon, which dominates the proceedings like an end-of-the-world Mother Courage.

Dog Act runs through Nov. 22 at Gremlin Theatre.