Since brevity is the soul of wit: & Juliet is a tremendously fun night at the theater. Director Luke Sheppard’s production is punchy, exciting, and brimming with exceptionally talented performances; it is so worth going to see.

At this point in the show’s production history, it’s an incredibly polished package, too. Having garnered the highest critical accolades since its original performances in London in 2019, it has since had several international runs, including an ongoing stint on Broadway. This production at The Hippodrome in Baltimore kicks off its North American tour in a venue perfect for the story, at once modern and majestic, mixing the old and the new.

As the show is taking all the right steps toward joining the canon of long-running musical theater successes, the only nagging question I can’t get out of my head is: is the lens of this Shakespearean remix nuanced enough to endure? What is its staying power as compared to its source material?

The story opens on a troupe of William Shakespeare’s players, learning their parts to the newly-written ending of Romeo & Juliet. But then Shakespeare’s frequently neglected wife, Anne Hathaway, bursts on the scene and proposes a novel idea: what if Juliet didn’t kill herself over Romeo? What if choosing to walk away from the tomb and to live is where her journey truly starts? Even better, Anne decides she’ll take part in writing and acting in this new version of the play. Can her husband handle co-authorship, and let newly-penned characters influence his famous young lovers’ destinies?

The production itself is cleverly constructed, fresh and fun while still containing plenty of Shakespearen references for fans of the Bard. The opening troupe of traveling actors uses cue pages as props, recalling how actors in Shakespeare’s time would have rehearsed and learned lines (carrying pages with only their parts written and one cue line before them, rather than a whole script). The players build and change the set themselves, and often mimic each other’s initial choreography before the whole ensemble joins in, contributing to a feel that “this is on the fly,” we’re doing it live and anything could happen! And while famous lines of text are spoken throughout the night, they’re from a range of plays in Shakespeare’s work, often given to characters you wouldn’t expect to say them. (A particularly fun gem is a drum-beat patter scene between two players that is spoken in iambic pentameter — an enjoyable easter egg if you’re listening for it, and a heightened and exciting scene, even if you’re not.)

The pairing of scenic design by Soutra Glimour and lighting design by Howard Hudson was electrifying, with equally creative and eye-popping costumes by Paloma Young. They lent a magical, larger-than-life quality to the stylish and athletic choreography of Jennifer Weber. Combined, these elements set the background for a pop-rock concert befitting the jukebox musical, which is perhaps the evening’s greatest twist: this story is told via pop music of the early 2000s.

This mashup of pop music and Romeo and Juliet is hilarious, surprising, and oddly Shakespearean; even though we know the words and the plot to these songs (just as we might with a famous scene from one of Shakespeare’s plays), it’s still refreshing and moving to hear them come from these characters at each given moment in the story. They feel specific and relevant, and the joy of hearing which song each character picks spurs much of the comedy throughout the night.

It’s not easy to all be pop-rock stars, but the cast more than rose to the challenge, with the added bonus of grounded, genuine acting. Rachel Simone Webb as Juliet was perfect. She executed her performance with all-around excellence, delivering text with exquisite timing and ease and songs with a stunning voice (not to mention unwavering stamina).

Other standout performances included Teal Wicks as Anne Hathaway, whose brilliant comic timing shone from her first moments onstage, and was rooted in commitment to the demands of the story. Kathyrn Allison was fabulously fun as Angelique (Juliet’s Nurse), with killer vocals and one of my favorite numbers of the night in her “Teenage Dream” duo with Paul-Jordan Jansen as the hilariously operatic Lance. Nick Drake brought the most heart to the production in their portrayal of May, delivering some of the most moving ballads with captivating stage presence.

But in an evening so full of creative talent, I found myself questioning the durability of this storytelling focus. In the five years since this musical premiered, I’ve seen a lot of stories on stage about female empowerment, defying the patriarchy, and accepting gender nonbinary. Perhaps because of this, I wasn’t surprised by any of the arcs the story took, or relieved by what is, dare I say it, no longer a fresh plot take. I actually found myself challenging the premise that Romeo is a “douche” and Juliet took no agency in the story the way Shakespeare wrote it. Isn’t the reason we still read Romeo and Juliet because it is complicated and imperfect? In the same way Juliet didn’t have to kill herself over Romeo…didn’t Romeo also get hopelessly lost in his relationship with Juliet? Was he not worth saving in the same way?

Art that raises questions will always outlive art that gives us answers. Ironically, my question in this was: okay, the female has the lead — what’s she going to do with it? Surely there is more to the feminine existence than bucking the patriarchy? But that’s also Juliet’s question, and not resolved in a single night. In an evening full of female leads and power ballads, audience habits still die hard — some of the fiercest bouts of applause were for Romeo’s entrance and an undoubtedly well-executed Boy Band sequence (to give the devils their due).

The most interesting sections of the story to me were the more nuanced, complex conversations between Anne and Shakespeare. These revealed more about the human experience than any individual rock anthem, and were the only moments that tugged my heart. Perhaps, now that Juliet gets a chance to live and mature, her journey will evolve toward more moments like these.

Running Time: Approximately two hours and 30 minutes, including a 15-minute intermission.

& Juliet plays through September 28, 2024, at the Hippodrome Theatre’s France-Merrick Performing Arts Center, 12 N. Eutaw Street, Baltimore, MD. Purchase tickets ($49–$269, including service fees) online or call 410.837.7400.

Complete cast and creative credits for the touring company are here.

COVID Safety: Masks are recommended but not required. The Hippodrome’s Health & Safety policy is here.

& Juliet
Book by David West Read
Music and Lyrics by Max Martin and Friends
Music Supervision, Orchestrations and Arrangements by Bill Sherman
Choreography by Jennifer Weber
Direction by Luke Sheppard
Scenic Design by Soutra Gilmour
Costume Design by Paloma Young
Lighting Design by Howard Hudson
Sound Design by Gareth Owen
Video & Projections Design by Andrzej Goulding
Hair/Wig & Makeup Design by J. Jared Janas
Music Direction by Andre Cerullo
Additional Orchestrations and Arrangements by Dominc Fallacaro
Music Coordination by Michael Aarons

CAST
Juliet: Rachel Simone Webb
Lance: Paul-Jordan Jansen
Anne: Teal Wicks
Shakespeare: Corey Mach
May: Nick Drake
Angelique: Kathryn Allison
Romeo: Michael Canu
Francois: Mateus Leite Cardoso
Lady Capulet, Nell: Naima Alakham
Judith: Camille Brooks
Eleanor, Benvolio: Nella Cole
Susanna: Lois Ellise
Gregory: Ishmael Gonzalez
Augustine: Kenneth Onesimus Goubran
Lucy: Shelby Griswold
Henry: Christopher Robert Hanford
Lennox: Jourdan Ibe
Richard: Josh Jordan
Margaret: Nicole Lamb
Dion: Yoshi Maysonet
Lord Capulet, Sly: Usman Ali Mughal
Kempe: Jaydon Nget
Titania: Kyra Smith
Cuthbert: Francisco Thurston

The post Fresh, fun, and oddly Shakespearean ‘& Juliet’ at the Hippodrome in Baltimore appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

Olney Theatre Center is closing out its 85th season with Beautiful: The Carole King Musical on its Roberts Mainstage. Whether you’re a longtime fan of Carole King or think you’ve never heard a song of hers in your life (trust me: you have), director Amy Anders Corcoran’s production is a must-see. The clever book by Douglas McGrath weaves a story through some of the greatest hits from the ’60s and ’70s composed by Carole King & Gerry Goffin and their friends Cynthia Weil & Barry Man (yes, you know them, too).The book and music combine with cohesive direction from Anders Corcoran, delightful choreography by Ashleigh King, and a phenomenal cast to make this a jukebox musical that will stick with you long after you leave the theater.

The story opens with the onset of Carole King’s career at just sixteen years old when she sells her first song to Broadway music producer Don Kirshner (embodied with brilliant comedic timing by DMV theater veteran Bobby Smith). Though a talented composer, King, played by vocal superstar Natalie Weiss, learns that she needs an equally skilled lyricist if she’s going to make it. She finds her other half in all ways in Gerry Goffin (superbly acted by Michael Perrie Jr.), and what follows is an insight into the creative process of their time. A good-spirited competition for #1 hits with writing duo Cynthia Weil and Barry Man motivates musical numbers performed by the artists who made them famous: The Drifters, The Righteous Brothers, and the Shirelles, to name a few. We continue to follow the songs through the evolution of the music industry from records to television, and into a whole new sound that places challenges on the relationships and careers of our composing duos.

The two acts of the evening are split between the musical styles of the era, with the first encompassing the pop rock of the early 1960s. The set, designed with enormous versatility by Debra Kim Sivigny, filled the act with theatrical surprises as it shifted with flair from a simple living room to a music studio on Broadway, to a television performance venue. The design helped contribute to a larger-than-life quality to the production, and the ensemble more than rose to the occasion to fill this playground.

They delivered some standout performances in this half, with The Drifters eliciting the most cheering from the crowd. Brought to life by performers Quadray Brown, Montel B. Butler, Ian Anthony Coleman, and Jay Frisby, The Drifters executed tight choreography with electric stage presence and jaw-dropping vocal abilities. Their numbers were complemented by a more quiet charisma from a delight-inducing performance by Kurt Boehm and Connor James Reilly as the Righteous Brothers in “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling.” And the whole ensemble, led by powerhouse Ariana Caldwell, brought the house down with “The Locomotion.”

The speed of the story slowed in the second act naturally as the lens focused in on King’s journey toward becoming her own solo artist and the music industry’s changing landscape. But as the musical numbers dialed back in keeping with the narrative, the costuming continued to ramp. I had noticed the detail and range required of costume designer Kendra Rai for Act I, but the approach of the 1970s in Act II drove home the exceptional task of dressing this production. Rai designed for the late 1950s right on through to the onset of the 1970s. To put a finer point on it: the wigs alone required for this sweep of fashion deserved their own curtain call and applause by the evening’s end (with credit due to wig designers Larry Peterson and Alia Radabaugh).

Throughout both acts, highly skilled performances by both Weiss as King and Perrie Jr. as Goffin kept the narrative arc of the production afloat. While Perrie Jr. delivered some of the most grounded acting of the evening (along with Donna Migliaccio, perfect as King’s mother, Genie Klein, and Bobby Smith as producer Don Krishner), Weiss delivered on the tall order of playing legend Carole King. Although the buoyant nature of King’s real-life persona may have pulled some depth from Weiss’ performance at moments I felt required a little more weight, the surety and seeming effortlessness of her vocal technique carried each song with confidence befitting a rockstar.

And while King and Goffin provided the main narrative, at least half the charm of this tale came from the duo of Cynthia Weil (a spunky Nikki Mirza with a killer voice) and Barry Mann (genuinely acted and exceptionally sung by Calvin McCullough). The pair created a strong chemistry rooted in well-delivered lines and equally stellar vocals, providing an excellent counterpoint to the lives and working styles of their friends. I leaned forward a little in my seat each time they were onstage, eager to see what they would pull off next.

I defy you to leave this show without a smile on your face and a song or two stuck in your head for the remainder of the summer. Beyond a rollicking good time, Beautiful is an excellent way to grow appreciation for King’s artistry and lifework. I’ll be looking forward to revisiting her music, and also keeping an eye out to see what each cast member in the production is up to next — they really are talents who should not be missed.

Running Time: Approximately two hours and 30 minutes, including a 15-minute intermission

Beautiful: The Carole King Musical plays through August 25, 2024, at Olney Theatre Center, Roberts Mainstage, 2001 Olney-Sandy Spring Road, Olney, MD. Tickets ($31–$101) are available online or through the box office at 301-924-3400, open from 12 pm – 6 pm Wednesdays through Saturdays. Discounts are available for groups, seniors, military, and students (for details click here).

The digital program for Beautiful: The Carole King Musical is available here.

Beautiful: The Carole King Musical
Book by Douglas McGrath
Words and Music by Gerry Goffin & Carole King, Barry Mann & Cynthia Weil
Music by arrangement with Sony/ATV Music Publishing
Music Directed by Christopher Youstra
Choreographed by Ashleigh King
Directed by Amy Anders Corcoran
Scenic Design by Debra Kim Sivigny
Costume Design by Kendra Rai
Wig Design by Larry Perterson and Alia Radabuagh

CAST
Carole King: Natalie Weiss
Genie Klein: Donna Migliaccio
Betty / TV Stage Manager: Victoria Gómez
Neil Sedaka / Nick: Conor James Reilly
Lucille: Kaiyla Gross
Don Kirshner: Bobby Smith
Gerry Goffin: Michael Perrie Jr.
The Drifters: Quadray Brown, Montel B. Butler, Ian Anthony Coleman, Jay Frisby
Cynthia Weil: Nikki Mirza
Barry Mann: Calvin McCullough
The Shirelles: Simone Brown, Ariana Caldwell, Kaiyla Gross, Kalen Robinson
Janelle Woods: Kalen Robinson
Little Eva: Ariana Caldwell
The Righteous Brothers: Kurt Boehm, Connor James Reilly
“One Fine Day” Backup Singers: Simone Brown, Ariana Caldwell, Kaiyla Gross
Marilyn Ward: Lily Burka
“Uptown Singer”: Simone Brown
Lou Adler: Kurt Boehm
Sound Engineer: Montel B. Butler
“Natural Woman” Backup Singers: Lily Burka, Victoria Gomez, Kaiyla Gross

The post Rollicking good ‘Beautiful: The Carole King Musical’ at Olney Theatre Center appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

In a feat of programming, Artistic Director Sean Elias brings the musical Everybody’s Talking About Jamie to Iron Crow Theatre in one of its first productions in North America since the UK premiere in 2017. It’s a perfect choice in both story and scope for the closer of their “Season of the Unorthodox,” and an achievement to secure the production rights to something so fresh, inventive, and underproduced — just in time for Pride Month.

The compelling story, lively music, and raucously fun moments of the first act in particular had me wondering why I hadn’t seen Everybody’s Talking About Jamie on every regional theater’s season since it premiered. But Act Two revealed some structural flaws with overwriting and a couple songs that missed the mark, dragging its feet into a finale at around three hours for what could have surely been accomplished in two. Additionally, significant technical issues undermined stellar cast performances, compounding momentum issues and muddying important plot points.

The story revolves around Jamie New, a 16-year-old British schoolboy who has a dream for his future that his careers teacher can’t get behind: professional drag queen. Supported enormously by his best friend and mom, Jamie finds the courage to fight through fierce rejection from others in his life to claim his new identity and begin his career. His journey would not be possible without the tutelage of a legendary drag queen he meets along the way, who is responsible not only for guiding Jamie but for legitimizing drag as a rigorous professional pursuit. Despite the significant overwriting of the second act, the punchy book and lyrics by Tom Macrae combine with sticky, upbeat music by Dan Gillespie Sells to ensure that this is a story you’ll be remembering and singing along to for the whole week after you see it.

The scenic design by Chris Miller and lighting design by Thomas P. Gardner worked in concert to reflect the tension between Jamie’s dreams and his reality. School desks made up the majority of the set and were manipulated by the cast to build new locations with each scene change. The constant presence of the pressure of school, his careers teacher’s expectations, and the judgment of his peers likewise pervaded every area of Jamie’s life. Simultaneously, an electric arrangement of LED lighting hung suspended over the set for the entirety of the show, making a daydream sequence or catwalk-like strobe lighting only a spark away.

As clever as this dynamic was (especially on a limited budget) I could not escape the sense that the musical was designed for a theater that had lots of fly space or a rotating stage to drop in new sets in the blink of an eye; the sheer number of location changes sometimes left the actors destination-less, with only a few school desks meant to represent an entire kitchen or bedroom.

Likewise, the costumes (designed by J. Ethan Henry) delivered fantastically, but to an extent. The drag was impressive and delicious to look at, the school uniforms were realistic and professional, but some moments dictated by the score indicated a quick change or reveal that didn’t seem possible without doubling or serious costume tech.

In regards to performance, everybody’s talking about him and for good reason: Jamie, a complex and demanding role, was carried confidently by multitalented Bradley Adam Stein. Their voice and movement were riveting, managing to demand and hold attention amid full, flashy ensemble numbers with an athletic stamina worthy of admiration. They also brought the acting focus required to stand up to more than a few ballads, turning what could have been a park-and-bark into a meaningful story piece.

Stein was backed by an ensemble who gave it their all, delivering exceptional vocals, thrillingly precise choreography by Arthur Cuadros, and a phenomenal amount of energy. The opening group number hit like a showstopper, leaving me delighted and eager for more. Sadly, malfunctioning microphones (a recurring issue for Iron Crow) drowned out some solos in big group numbers as the night wore on, leading me to miss not only their talent but also their dialogue and story advancement at key moments, such as the opening (and titular) number of the second act.

The cast had two additional standouts, the first of which was Courtney Simmons in her portrayal of Jamie’s best friend, Pritti. Simmons had a dynamic and joyful stage presence and an exuberant delivery of choreography that always drew my eye. Her sincere and earnest performance fulfilled one of the best-written story arcs of the evening, with highly believable best-friend chemistry with Stein as Jamie. It was a shame to miss some of her solo singing moments due to microphone malfunctioning and sound-balancing issues.

Nicholas Miles, a resident artist with Iron Crow, delivered the most grounded, skillful performance of the night as Hugo, the shopkeeper who once performed as the legendary drag artist Loco Channel. Anytime a technical issue or story lull caused a hiccup, Miles brought the audience right back into the story with his charisma and confidence. His character, Hugo, had the hugely important task of bringing the depth, power, and rigor of the drag profession to light for the audience and for Jamie, and Miles knocked it out of the park. His embodiment of Loco Channel was fierce and commanding, and Loco exuded powerful charm each time she was onstage.

Despite so much to cheer about, the second half of the show could not structurally stand up to the first. A pattern of solo ballads with not much distinction left me wishing for a multi-character song, slowed down the pace, and even felt off-brand for the style of music. This was most glaring with a song for Jamie’s Mom (played with heart and dedication by Hana Clarice) called “He’s My Boy” and a quick callback/reprise in “My Man, Your Boy,” which landed more like a cathartic writing process for the show’s creators than an airtight story arc. The repeating of plot points and discoveries for Jamie about his relationship with his father, about his beauty and power, and even a whole repeat scene of a bully takedown (but with Pritti rather than Jamie) stole some of the umph from the final moments of the play, making me wish for some cuts or simple rewrites. The cast needed to attack their dialogue with less air between lines and a clearer sense of objective to keep the sagging moments at the end afloat.

The passionate and talented cast combined with the importance of the story make this a performance you should absolutely go see. It’s rare to see a newer musical, and a treat to have that chance in Baltimore. But having seen one other show at Iron Crow that was equally excellent but likewise marred by sound issues, it’s possible the company has reached a point where their ambition and worth are unfairly limited by budget constraints; a new sound system and slightly larger backstage space would have significantly improved the evening.

Running Time: Approximately three hours, including a 15-minute intermission.

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie plays through June 30, 2024, presented by Iron Crow Theatre performing at Baltimore Theatre Project; 45 W. Preston Street, Baltimore, MD. Tickets are $20–$65 (with a ticket lottery for $20; rear orchestra, $40; front orchestra, $50, VIP, $65) and may be purchased online.

The cast and creative team credits are here.

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie

Book & Lyrics by Tom Macrae
Music by Dan Gillespie Sells
From an Idea by Jonathan Butterell

Direction by Sean Elias, Choreography by Arthur Cuadros, Music Direction and Assistant Direction by Allison Bradbury

Lighting Design by Thomas P. Gardner; Set Design by Chris Miller; Costume Design by J. Ethan Henry; Sound Design by Thom J. Woodward; Intimacy Direction by Shawna Potter; Drag Consulting by Devon Vaow

Cast:
Jamie New – Bradley Adam Stein
Margaret New – Hana Clarice
Pritti – Courtney Simmons
Hugo/Loco Channel – Nicholas Miles
Ray – Asia-Ligé Arnold
Miss Hedge – Isabelle Pickering
Dean/Jamie’s Dad – Jake Stibbe
Becca – Whitney Chantèl
Bex – Kiley Ernest
Fatimah – Allison Farrall
Vicki – Liz Gutridge
Mickey – Brooke Donald
Sayid – Michael Christopher
Cy – Mateen Kane
Levi – Adrian Graham-Chesnavage
Laika Virgin – Garrett Matthews
Tray Sophisticay – Stephen A. Foreman
Sandra Bollock – Dean Whitfield

The post Perfect for Pride Month: ‘Everybody’s Talking About Jamie’ at Iron Crow appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

I arrived at Pinocchio at The Puppet Co. hoping for an experience that would be a little whimsical, a little zany, and full of surprise and delight. A puppet show of a puppet fairy tale told at a theater housed in a retro theme park? Yes. But while the setting and the venue delivered high theatrical production value, director Ingrid Bork’s rendition of a Pinocchio adaptation fell short.

This version of the story, originally presented by Allan Stevens and adapted by Vera C. Hughes, is a legacy production, with its last iteration performed by the company a decade ago. It is possible that some of the magic has been lost in the intervening years, as this telling was choppy and confusing.

A poor, aging carpenter named Geppetto decides to build a puppet out of a talking piece of wood, which he then names Pinocchio. Pesky and lacking manners, his creation must be sent to school. Pinocchio loses his way, misguided by a ticket taker and a puppeteer at a theater, a fox/wolf and his sidekick (a sing-song-y bear, maybe?), and an evil coachman/circus promoter who somehow turns him into a donkey. Along the way, Pinocchio continually rebuffs the cryptic advice of a giant, witch-like cricket. He also lies to a mystical woman in a blue cloak (she is never introduced), which briefly makes his nose change shape for an unexplained reason, and is told that he must find his father Geppetto, who went looking for him when he didn’t come home from school, if he wants to be made into a real boy (a desire that is never explicitly stated, to my awareness).

A lack of skillful technical execution contributed to the plot confusion. Though equipped with microphones, two of the three puppeteers were often difficult to hear or understand. The third, a more lively Andrew Quilpa, was much better at articulation and clear characterization, but a recurring direction to talk over each other with overlapping dialogue could drown even their lines out.

Though the story points could come and go at whiplash pace, other moments were bogged down with obvious time-vamping and redundant ad-libbing. To be fair, all characters in the story were brought to life by just three puppeteers, but the lags created by switching puppets, costumes, or occasional props revealed the sparseness of additional production elements: there was no music, few sound effects, and little in the way of additional scenery or lighting.

Poor timing and casual delivery muddied most of the production’s obvious laugh points, though some joy was still found by the children in the audience during a brief ocean sequence with leaping fish. And while most of the littler audience members were generously attentive through the first half of the show, none seemed vocally engaged or content to sit still after the halfway mark.

The puppets themselves were gorgeous, full of character and texture, and beautifully maintained over the years (the ones used in this production are the original rod puppets that premiered the show 50 years ago). The theatrical space was inviting, with a seating area made of benches lining the perimeter of a carpeted space for kids and their parents to sprawl out and enjoy. The venue, nestled in Glen Echo Park close to the majestic carousel, makes a stop at The Puppet Co. an appealing addition to a full day of family fun.

The promise is enough to make me try The Puppet Co. again, or tell a friend with kids to give it a try, just maybe not for this particular production.

Running Time: 50 minutes with no intermission.

Pinocchio plays through June 23, 2024 (Thursdays and Fridays at 10:30 am, Saturdays and Sundays at 11:30 am and 1 pm), at the Puppet Co. Playhouse, 7300 Macarthur Blvd, Glen Echo, M. Purchase tickets ($15 per person, under age 2 no ticket required) by calling 301.634.5380 or order them online.

Recommended for ages 4+. Helpful driving and parking instructions are here.

The program for Pinocchio is on YouTube:

COVID Safety: Masks are strongly encouraged for all patrons age 2 and older

Pinocchio
Direction by Ingrid Bork
Puppeteering by Cate Ginsberg, Andrew Quilpa, and Penny Russell

The post Legacy ‘Pinocchio’ at The Puppet Co. may have lost some magic appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

Avaaz begins the second you round the bank of seats in the Olney Theatre Center’s Mulitz-Gudelsky Theatre Lab. The set, exquisitely designed by Beowulf Boritt, seems to appear by magic as festive Persian music surrounds you at party volume. It’s a feast for the eyes: hanging mirrors framed by fairy lights and flowers, an opulence of chandeliers, lush golds and greens, and a marvelous, multi-tiered table set for a grand event. As audience members entered with a chorus of wow’s, I was already leaning forward toward the story, full of curiosity.

The play, directed by Moritz von Stuelpnagel and written and performed solely by Michael Shayan, centers around an Iranian woman named Roya as she waits for her son to come home for Nowruz, the Persian New Year holiday. She passes the time by generously offering the audience a crash course in the history of Nowruz and Persian culture, using the centerpiece on the Haft Sin table as anchor points for lessons. These humorous teachings fuse with memories of her journey as a single, Jewish woman immigrating from Tehran to Los Angeles, including what it was like to raise her queer, American-born son, Michael. This Michael is the playwright, Michael Shayan, and Roya, whom he plays, is based upon his real-life mother.

Avaaz delivers a dual memoir in a format that is richly theatrical and warmly educational about a culture we don’t see enough of in American entertainment media. While Roya’s stories will resonate differently depending on your specific upbringing, her experiences with immigration, family, home, motherhood, queerness, and perseverance create touchstones for audience members of all backgrounds. As such, Shayan has threaded the needle in creating a piece of theater that is both intimately specific and universally rewarding.

Shayan’s writing is masterful in depth and scope. He deftly guides the script through teaching moments, individual stories, and highly entertaining bits of audience interaction. It was not uncommon for belly-shaking laughter to still into sober silence, only to be prodded into smiles again with a well-timed jab. Farsi and dance were interwoven throughout the text, amplifying the richness of the tale. This variety in storytelling moments was greatly supported by the lighting design of Amith Chandrashaker, which helped immerse us in memories and lead us out again to the present.

Shayan’s skill as a performer was most apparent when he would switch in and out of his portrayal of Roya. When a memory called for a different character, his sudden drop into a new voice, body posture, or accent was instant and complete. The stark transformations revealed just how thoroughly he had embodied Roya in a performance that felt more like channeling than impersonation. His movement was also excellent, especially his moments of dance.

My only acting criticism is a technical one, wrapped up in the daunting challenge of executing a one-person show. Carrying a 90-minute performance monologue without any cast members or breaks to assist with remembering your text is a phenomenal feat. Each performer uses different tools to achieve this, and I felt that Shayan occasionally relied too much on internal cues or pre-set rhythms to get himself through.

This internal cueing resulted in some moments that felt lacking in the spark of life that occurs in a spontaneous conversation. It is a subtle difference, one between knowing the answer to a question before you ask it and really waiting to hear the audience’s response, but it was just enough to make me feel unsure what Roya really needed from us in order to keep speaking at times. This was most noticeable in the beginning of the performance and often short-lived; toward the middle and end of the evening I found myself entirely swept away by Roya’s tales.

Because I began with the majesty of the set, I must note how well I believe this show would work in an entirely different style of theater and even performed by a different actor. The true mastery of what Shayan has created lies in its ability to transcend performer and space. While this particular set lends undeniable grandeur, Shayan’s writing is both grand enough to play in an 800-seat proscenium and intimate enough to suit a 25-seat black box in the round. And while it is an undeniable treat to watch the playwright perform, the concept and writing are strong enough to be fully inhabited by another actor to perhaps an equally powerful effect.

Avaaz is a brilliant addition to Olney Theatre Center’s season, one that proves their strength of programming and remarkable willingness to produce trend-setting work. They will be supporting this production after it leaves Maryland, heading for two tour destinations. I can’t help but feel this is only the beginning for Avaaz as a traveling story, and look forward to seeing it produced by theaters of all sizes and communities for years to come.

Running Time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

Avaaz plays through April 7, 2024, at Olney Theatre Center, Mulitz-Gudelsky Theatre Lab, 2001 Olney-Sandy Spring Road, Olney, MD. Tickets ($55–$90) are available online or through the box office at 301-924-3400, open from 12 pm to 6 pm Wednesdays through Saturdays. Discounts are available for groups, seniors, military, and students (for details click here).

Credits for the cast and creative team are online here (scroll down).

COVID Safety: Face masks are recommended but no longer required to attend events in any Olney Theatre Center performance spaces.

Avaaz
Written and Performed by Michael Shayan
Directed by Moritz von Stuelpnagel
Set Designed by Beowulf Borrit
Costume Designed by Joshua “Domino” Schwartz
Lighting Designed by Amith Chandrashaker
Sound Designed by UptownWorks – Noel Nichols, Daniela Hart, and Bailey Trierweiler

The post A richly theatrical mother-and-son memoir in ‘Avaaz’ at Olney appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

What impressed me most about director Cara Phipp’s production of Through the Sunken Lands at Kennedy Center was not just that it succeeded in being theatrically entertaining, but that it centered around rich and complex content for a young audience to consider during their make-believe ride. The intriguing book by Tim J. Lord and compelling music and lyrics by Avi Amon left me with a positive feeling that this was not your average family theater performance, but an effective example of how theater builds empathy in young minds.

The story follows Artemis, a young woman determined to survive the immediate aftermath of a flood that has overwhelmed her hometown of Arcady. Separated from her Aunt Maggie and the rest of her town, she teams up with a talking heron, Nicodemus, who is working to find the cause behind this environmental disaster and reverse it before Arcady becomes uninhabitable. As a bright, adventurous spirit who is also living with a condition that requires her to use a wheelchair, Artemis grapples with her own questions along the way: Is her town worth saving in light of her constant battles for access? A mysterious Committee complicates her decision with tempting offers for a better world elsewhere.

The cast was dedicated and talented across the board, performing this intricate and twisting story in a way that was both clear for kids and enjoyable for adults.

Meredith Aleigha Wells employed superb technique as Artemis, skillfully conveying complicated plot points (both spoken and sung) with energy and clarity. Her movement and choreography were active and fun, proving just how full of life and motion her character was, disability and all.

Carl L. Williams made fantastic use of vocal pitch in his fluid puppeteering as the talking heron, Nicodemus. Williams earned the biggest laughs of the show from the audience across all ages.

Standout singing performances came from a soulful Sarah Anne Sillers in her solo songs as Aunt Maggie, as well as a wide-ranging Farrell Parker (playing CPA 1 and others), who notably had the audience bopping along while belting out a beat from an enormous fish-head puppet.

Anna Theoni DiGiovanni (CPA 2 and others) delivered the strongest acting performance of the ensemble, turning the sinister and silly Committee into a treat to watch each time they were onstage.

The production design was impressive but had mixed results in supporting the world of the play. The pre-performance lighting and sound design were immersive and clear, drawing us into the stage as soon as we took our seats. Lighting continued to be used effectively throughout the show to support emotional arcs and focus us on character changes. But while the set design of the library roof upon which Artemis is stranded was detailed, clever, and fun to look at, I found myself wondering if a story that involved so much water and weather might not have benefitted from a set that allowed for more shifting and motion.

Thematically, Through the Sunken Lands offers a launching pad for conversations around some important and multilayered topics: environmental disaster and its causes, land ownership, disability and access, what makes a place a home, and how that home might be made more inclusive for everyone. These are all experiences that Artemis works through during the story, and one of the major successes of this production is how easily we can relate to her and admire her as she tackles these big ideas.

For example, Artemis’s disability shapes her perspectives and experiences throughout the play, but it is far from her only defining characteristic. Artemis is brave, self-reliant, capable, street-smart, and mature enough to question the world around her. Her dependency on her wheelchair is one reason to yearn for exploration, but that’s also a completely normal feeling in a young person, ready to take on the world. Similarly, her fight for access is only one reason why she doesn’t always feel at home in her hometown.

Instead of looking at this character and thinking, “We’re different,” I can see a myriad of ways in which a younger audience member might be able to look at this character and think, “We want the same things, but our ways or abilities to get them might look different. I wonder what that’s like?”

Another big-picture empathy challenge offered by this story: We as an audience enter Arcady as an already-sunken place, and have no reason to be invested in its recovery other than on principle. Our main character isn’t sold on saving Arcady, we never saw it in its heyday, and thus have no idea of how to build it back to what it was or better than before. Why care about saving an imperfect world that we have never personally known?

Through the Sunken Lands does not answer this question, exactly, but posing it to us is the real success of the story. In a time when we are so bombarded with disaster news that protecting our kids is often a priority overexposing them, how do we teach empathy over apathy? How do we safely explore how something that feels like it might not be our home or our battle is still worth engaging with or advocating for on behalf of betterment for all?

Artemis and her sunken home of Arcady could help you start.

Running Time: Approximately one hour with no intermission.

Through the Sunken Lands plays through March 17, 2024, in the Family Theater at the Kennedy Center, 2700 F St NW, Washington, DC. Purchase tickets ($20, with student rush available) at the box office, online, or by calling (202) 467-4600 or toll-free at (800) 444-1324.

The Through the Sunken Lands program is online here.

Most enjoyed by ages 9+.

COVID Safety: Masks are optional in all Kennedy Center spaces for visitors and staff. If you prefer to wear a mask, you are welcome to do so. See Kennedy Center’s complete COVID Safety Plan here.

Through the Sunken Lands
Script and Lyrics by Tim J. Lord
Music and Lyrics by Avi Amon
Directed by Cara Phipps
Movement Directed by Ronya-Lee Anderson
Music Directed by Angie Benson
Sound Design by Justin Schmitz
Set Design by Jeannette Christensen
Costume Design by Jeannette Christensen
Puppet Design by Mathew Pauli

CAST
Artemis Sims – Meredith Aleigha Wells
Maggie Sims – Sarah Anne Sillers
Nicodemus – Carl L. Williams
CPA 1/Others – Farrell Parker
CPA2/Others – Anna Theoni DiGiovanni

The post Rich content for kids in ‘Through the Sunken Lands’ at Kennedy Center appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

Vanessa Markowitz, director of The Montgomery Playhouse’s production of Steel Magnolias at the Gaithersburg Arts Barn, begins her program note by confessing: “I used to hate this play.”

There’s no denying Steel Magnolias’ significance in theatrical history. With a script written by Robert Harling in just ten days, the original 1987 production spawned runs on Broadway and the West End, two movie adaptations, a national tour, and countless performances at community theaters across the country. Many leading ladies have launched their careers or hit their stride by playing one of the characters in this story.

But I’ve always struggled with the format of the play, and have never seen a production that moved me to understand its staying power. I was heartened by Markowitz’s note; if she could learn to love Steel Magnolias, perhaps her production could teach me, too.

If the production had stopped at intermission, it would have succeeded. Delightful, engaging, and laugh-out-loud funny, Act I filled me with optimism. But Act II, though punctuated by individual moments of good acting, progressed with its usual dramatic stumbling blocks and left me wondering how any director can keep this play interesting to its final moments.

In case you’ve never seen it, Steel Magnolias takes place inside a beauty salon set in Chinquapin, Louisiana, in the 1980s. The play opens with the vivacious salon owner, Truvy, hiring a new girl in town, Annelle. We soon meet Clairee, the recently widowed former mayor’s wife; Shelby, the youngest member and heart of the group; her brass-tacks but caring mother, M’Lynn; and the ornery but lovable older Ouiser. Shelby’s life events feed the main reason for gathering and gossiping, from her wedding to her complications with Type 1 diabetes. Along the way, we discover the other characters’ search for meaning, and how they support each other through it all.

The first act owed much of its success to the strength of the ensemble, who took command of their roles and played their characters with sincerity.

As Truvy, an upbeat Rachel Brightbill moved through her salon with open charisma, making it easy for me to see how someone as shy as Annelle (a highly entertaining Sara Joy Lebowitz) or as wild as Ouiser (a spunky Hillary Mazer) would feel equally at home in her space. Clairee (played by Carole Preston) brought innate poise and positivity to her situation, while a wilder Ouiser contrasted her in almost every regard.

As mother and daughter duo, Shelby (Emily Ray) and her mother M’Lynn (Jill Goodrich) had wonderful chemistry, delivering rapid-fire text with composure and pluck. Their spats and their moments of love were played with a believable light touch, and their frequent check-ins with one another created an undercurrent of connectivity that ran deeper than the bonds between the other women.

Markowitz also directed some good moments of physical comedy in the first act, particularly with the character of Annelle. Played with energetic range by Sara Joy Lebowitz, Annelle was best at staying available to all the goings-on of the salon; you could always count on her for an opinion or reaction. She also had the clearest physical relationship to the space, developing her movement as her character settled in from timid scurrying and double-checking directions to spinning in a salon chair with comfortable ease.

The costumes, well chosen and appropriately curated to reflect the 1980s by Talon Bevan, hit a perfect balance of wackiness and believability, and I enjoyed taking in the new outfits with each scene change.

I entered intermission captivated by this community of friends within the salon, and intrigued by the clear images they painted of the goings-on of the world beyond its doors.

But the second half of this play does not bring enough dramatic action to sustain the elements that made Act I so compelling. We are still in the salon. The characters, though changing slightly, are only marginally progressing on the paths we watched them find at the end of the first act. Most of the action still occurs offstage, and we watch characters respond to second-hand news in almost exactly the ways we’d come to expect from them. The major event of the play has been hinted at before intermission, and becomes increasingly telegraphed to the point of losing its dramatic impact when it finally happens (again, offstage).

The set, efficiently designed by Cassandra Redding to include a hair-washing station, resting couch, two main styling chairs, and a manicure station, was underutilized in the second half of the production. Rather than taking advantage of seating, levels, and depth, the actors often found themselves a bit stuck in straight-line blocking near the front of the stage, rendering them less active. Line pickups and reaction times were also slower in this act, adding air into the production at a time when we needed energy and pace.

The feeling that Act II is an overlong denouement was saved slightly by a heartfelt and moving performance from Jill Goodrich’s M’Lynn in the play’s final moments, and the entire cast remained committed to the script until the end. I found myself seeing layers to the play I had not seen before, particularly around questions of religion, acceptance, and community identity in the wake of a loss.

If you are a fan of Steel Magnolias, you will enjoy and appreciate this production. The performances delivered by the cast do the play justice, and the intimate setting of the Arts Barn makes for a good, cozy night at the theater.

Running Time: Approximately two hours and 15 minutes, including a 15-minute intermission.

Steel Magnolias plays through February 25, 2024, presented by The Montgomery Playhouse in partnership with The Gaithersburg Arts Barn performing at the Arts Barn, 311 Kent Square Road Gaithersburg, MD. For tickets ($22; $20, students 15–21), buy them at the door, or purchase them online.

Recommended for ages 15 and up.

COVID Safety: Masks are encouraged but not required.

Steel Magnolias
Written by Robert Harling
Produced by Cassandra Redding and Meredith Fogle
Directed by Vanessa Markowitz
Set Design by Cassandra Redding
Costume Design by Talon Bevan
Sound Design by Sam Kuhr
Lighting Design by Andrew Harasty
Props by Lillian McKinley
Technical Advisor, Aaron Skolnik
Cosmetology Consultant, Avery Morstan

CAST:
Rachel Brightbill as Truvy
Sara Joy Lebowitz as Annelle
Carole Preston as Clairee
Emily Ray as Shelby
Jill Goodrich as M’Lynn
Hillary Mazer as Ouiser

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The Rude Mechanicals, the whimsically named company in residency at Greenbelt Arts Center, is back with an abridged production of Macbeth. 

I love the name Rude Mechanicals. Lifted from Shakespeare’s lovable band of amateur actors in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, it exemplifies the goal of community theater: to rehearse and perform a story for no compensation other than the joy and satisfaction of doing a play as much justice as you can.

In director Liana Olear’s production of Macbeth, I witnessed a close community committed to telling this story in a way that, while occasionally lacking in technical expertise, nonetheless proved interesting and uniquely theirs. They achieved this ownership mainly by Olear’s abridgment of the play and through clever incorporation of technology.

At just 75 minutes long, the plot moves so quickly that it can be difficult to follow. I’m not certain you’d get what was going on if not already familiar with the play, but this pared-down rendition creates a compelling hyper-focus on the relationship between Macbeth and Lady Macbeth.

For those not familiar with the story of Macbeth, the play centers around Macbeth, a high-ranking soldier in the Scottish army and defender of King Duncan. Macbeth is tempted by three malcontent witches to become King of Scotland. He is spurred on in this ambition by his wife, Lady Macbeth, and together they ruthlessly pursue a path of regicide and murder to maintain the stolen crown. This journey drives them both mad, a process aided by the ongoing interference of the witches, and we witness what happens to a relationship under savage strain.

The brisk pace of this telling demanded that the character arcs develop just as rapidly, a feat that some cast members pulled off better than others. The demand was notable on the actors playing the Macbeths, whose relationship occupied the greatest overall span of stage time as we clipped along.

Lady Macbeth, played with dedication and impressive range by actress Aparna Sri, was most successful in her transformation; each scene brought a progression of her deteriorating mental state and a clear development of her changing perspective. 

Macbeth, played by the no-less-dedicated Jaki Demarest, began clearly but stalled slightly in the second act. Soliloquies in the later moments of the play, though delivered with precision of text and with passion, fell into the trap of playing a tone over an action or objective, and began to feel the same from one scene to the next. 

The production’s biggest misstep was in the handling of Malcolm, the son of the murdered King Duncan, which may have been partly due to this difficulty of pace. It’s a particularly tricky track, requiring the actor (an amusing Jaelyn Evans) to take on lots of new information constantly and change on a dime. Through a combination of performance and pace, Malcolm casually handled extremely personal and serious situations without taking the time to inhabit the depth of their import. This created reactions that felt comedic in their delivery, as when Malcolm’s response to finding out his father had been murdered elicited a laugh from the audience (which I can’t imagine was the intended result) and put the character in a different genre of story from the rest of the cast.

The most inventive device of Olear’s production by far was her inclusion of real-time and recorded video. The three witches performed via Zoom and were dynamically projected on a screen that remained onstage throughout the night. Motivated by a desire to provide performance opportunities for immunocompromised actors, the result was effective due to its strong textual support. The witches are described in Macbeth as belonging to a different realm, both part of this world and apart from it, and their spooky power lies in how they inspire real political action from the suggestion of unreal images or stories. In our current time of AI deepfakes and unreliable online news sources, it’s easy to believe in screen spirits like these.

The onstage screen was further put to use with clever pre-recordings to supplement live action, as well as real-time video footage that occurred offstage in nearby parts of the Arts Center. I particularly appreciated how this live footage was used in moments of violence or death. Onstage violence is most effective when the audience is complicit in its imagining (we know it’s not real, so the more you get us to create it with you, the more we believe it), and having moments develop just out of sight or reach elevated their impact.

Overall, The Rude Mechanicals succeeded in providing me with a deeper appreciation for Macbeth’s relevance to our current social-political situations and has made me want to return to the text of the play in its entirety to explore it further. Performances run only through next weekend, so get your tickets soon.

Running Time: Approximately one hour and 25 minutes, including a 10-minute intermission.

Macbeth plays through February 10, 2024, presented by The Rude Mechanicals performing at Greenbelt Arts Center, 123 Centerway, Greenbelt, MD. To purchase tickets ($24, general admission; $22, senior/military; $12, child/student), call (301) 317-7964 or go online.

COVID Safety: Masks are optional.

Macbeth
Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Liana Olear
Assistant Direction by Wes Dennis and Alan Duda
Technical Direction, Video, and Lighting Design by Jeff Poretsky
Sound Design by Eric Honour
Intimacy and Fight Direction by Stephanie Davis

CAST
Helen Chang Mao
Linda “Spencer” Dye
Lisa Watson
Bill Bodie
Kate Medwar-Vanderlinden
Jaelyn Evans
Jared Hite
Jaki Demarest
Sarah Pfanz
Aparna Sri
Sean Eustis
Stephanie Davis
Alan Duda

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I’ve seen Rent quite a few times, and most productions I’ve seen are honestly pretty similar. Out of devotion to the book, music, and lyrics by the late icon Jonathan Larson, they tend to adhere tightly to the original Broadway production’s choreography and vocal tracks, rendering them prescribed and predictable.

Looking to have a new experience, I was drawn to the promise of Artistic Director Sean Elias’s\ season opener at the Iron Crow Theatre in Baltimore. Self-branded as a “queer theatre for a queer city,” Iron Crow’s website proclaims a core value of “unconventionality.”

What was great about Elias’ production was how he made good on this promise to revitalize. With updated choreography from an active ensemble and new takes on classic songs, I witnessed some truly standout performances. However, the production suffered at times from a lack of energy from some of the performers and serious sound issues.

A quick refresher: Rent unfolds the lives of a chosen family living on the Lower East Side in New York in the late 1990s as they use art, love, and grit to battle the HIV/AIDS crises, drug addiction, and homelessness in a gentrifying landscape. Main players include artist roommates Mark and Roger; their drama-queen ex-roommate Maureen, and her new girlfriend Joanne; their good friend Collins and his newfound love in the artist–drag queen Angel; an apartment-mate–turned–love-interest in wild spirit Mimi Marquez; and their traitorous old friend (turned landlord) Benny.

Upon entering the theater, the set design of Thomas Jenkeleit is striking. The mess of an abandoned warehouse is paired with a NYC subway sign, and a simple smiley face spray-painted on a broken window is a perfect totem of resilient joy amongst chaos. The design provided ample opportunities for the actors to interact with the set and remain onstage throughout the production.

The cast took advantage of this playground in a pre-show that was both loose and choreographed, alternating between the part of actors warming up and morphing seamlessly into group tableaus. It was interesting, inviting, and an early signal that this would be an atypical production.

But it was a particularly snowy night, the house was held, and the actors were left out there for nearly half an hour before we got started. Perhaps due to this extended takeoff, the opening number felt flat and lacking in attack or energy.

This feeling changed dramatically with the onset of the title song, “Rent.” The theater took flight as the cast worked together with heart and purpose. It became quickly clear that the ensemble was capable and focused (with a particularly standout stage presence in ensemble member Sam Slottow). The whole cast felt integrated and stronger together, and present in a way I’ve not seen in productions of Rent before.

Elias’ skillful direction was evident in the way the ensemble would enhance a lyric with a simple sound effect or gesture. Elias also evoked some excellent acting during “Light My Candle,” the number that introduces Roger and Mimi in Act I. Rather than play the humor or the result of the meeting from the beginning, Roger (Carter Crosby) and Mimi (Natalia Fyfe) truthfully played each moment at a time, letting a very clear character narrative develop. By honestly playing Roger’s fear and reticence as well as Mimi’s spontaneity but also her battle with addiction, all the struggles that followed in their relationship arc were believable and supported.

Though the entire cast ranged from vocally strong to vocally stellar, not all performers brought the physical command to match their vocal chops. Angel’s signature number “Today 4 U” has to shoot out of a cannon — an effect that ensemble members Sam Slottow and Tyler White achieved in their fan-voguing dance break, but that Angel, played by Nicolas Miles, fell short of. Clearly a good singer and adept at bringing the much-needed heart to the role of Angel, Miles was nevertheless not quite on top of this number, rushing the tempo and seemingly a little unsure.

This rushing may have been due to some of the sound issues, which continually popped me out of the production. Mics were not always on when it came time to sing, leading to missing lyrics for the audience and a drop in musical energy. Reverb resounded at times, and I wondered if this resulted in performers not always hearing their onstage accompaniment; there were multiple instances of being ahead of the music or wobbling slightly off-key before finding the notes again.

That said, numbers like “Tango: Maureen” hit like a firecracker and brought us right back to life, with Breanne Sensenig’s lights-out vocals on display as Joanne, matched by performer Jeremy Allen Crawford’s dedicated energy and earnest, character-driven wackiness as Mark.

The truly standout performances of the evening came from Collins, played by Terrell Chambers, and Maureen, played by Rachel Cahoon.

Chambers shone as Collins from the second he stepped onstage, with his brilliance on display in Act I’s “Sante Fe.” In Act II, his delivery of “I’ll Cover You: Reprise” was one of the most outstanding performances I think I’ve ever seen — exceptionally sung and truthfully acted; he moved the audience to tears. I’d return to this production just to watch him sing this song again.

As Maureen, Cahoon nailed her “Over the Moon” performance in Act I. Hilarious, dynamic, and decidedly different from versions I’ve seen before, she had me simultaneously laughing out loud while marveling at her vocal prowess and grounded acting. And, between Cahoon as Maureen and Sensenig as Joanne, I don’t think I’ll ever hear Act II’s “Take Me or Leave Me” sung better.

A brief, Maureen-related interlude for all you Rentheads out there: the handling of Maureen in this production was fantastic. Rather than being completely hidden from sight until the wild entrance before “Over the Moon,” Elias incorporates Maureen into the background action as soon as she is referenced by other characters. This allows us to sense her dramatic weight and pull before she ever speaks — which is usually not until the end of the first act…

In a significant change from other productions I’ve seen, Elias decided to move the intermission placement. Rather than awkwardly cutting off Act 1 right before the much-anticipated protest (as is traditionally done), Elias continued to the end of “La Vie Boheme/I Should Tell You,” which is a much more satisfying and sensible stopping point. Plus, we still start Act II with “Seasons of Love” (you can put it anywhere!). It’s a better choice in every way possible and leaves me wondering why anyone would do it otherwise from now on.

Despite some bumps along the way, this production of Rent has moments that you simply should not miss, produced by a company that I am very much looking forward to returning to and supporting in the future. Make sure to check out their website for great supplemental information, and arrive early to the theater to explore the excellent companion art exhibition in the lobby.

Running Time: Approximately two hours and 45 minutes, including a 15-minute intermission.

Rent plays through February 4, 2024, presented by Iron Crow Theatre performing at Baltimore Theatre Project, 45 W. Preston Street, Baltimore, MD. Purchase tickets ($25–$45) online. 

The cast and creative credits are online here.

Rent
Book, Music, & Lyric by Jonathan Larson
Directed by Sean Elias
Choreography and Assistant Direction by Quae Simpson
Music Direction by Rachel Sandler
Lighting Design by Thomas P. Gardner
Set Design by Thomas Jenkeleit
Costume Design by Camille Lerner
Sound Design by Brad Ranno
Intimacy Direction by Shawna Potter

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