There are two types of audience members at any production of The Rocky Horror Show — converts and virgins. Converts are devoted fans, regulars at midnight screenings of the iconic film, who call out and call back as if their lives depended on it, elevating the experience from passive theater watching to a fully immersive one. Then there are the virgins, audience members who have no idea what they’re walking into. Much like the characters Brad and Janet, they are lured in by converts looking to shock and entice — or by theater reviewers with family visiting from out of town. Which is how I found myself on Halloween night introducing my mother-in-law to a sweet transvestite and a muscle-bound creature of the night and watching sexually repressed college students lose their virginity on the Frederick Community College Jack B. Kussmaul Theater stage.

As an introduction to the cult classic, Maryland Ensemble Theatre and Theatre FCC’s co-production of the Richard O’Brien sci-fi/horror opus more than delivers. Featuring a cast and crew composed of MET ensemble members and apprentices, Frederick Community College students, and actors and artists from the DMV, the show moves at a breakneck clip, references the movie liberally, and seamlessly incorporates audience participation.

For the uninitiated, The Rocky Horror Show follows newly engaged couple Brad and Janet as they get caught in a storm with a flat tire and are forced to seek refuge at a gothic castle in the middle of nowhere. Once inside, they find themselves unwilling guests of a mad scientist in a tight corset, Dr. Frank-N-Furter, and his eccentric staff and guests. 

(“Are they vampires?” my mother-in-law whispered. Um, no. Just hang in there.)

As Brad and Janet soon find out, they have arrived on a special night. Dr. Frank-N-Furter is about to unveil his latest creation — Rocky, a muscle man created to satisfy the doctor’s every desire. And since the young couple seems so tightly wound, why not extend Rocky’s particular brand of hospitality to them as well? There’s also a murder. And aliens. And a floor show. 

The highlight of MET and FCC’s production is the cast. Eric Jones shines as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, towering over the rest of the actors in platform heels, teasing the audience with off-the-cuff quips, and swinging from seductive to cruel. Jeremy Myers and Mallorie Stern bring to life naïve couple Brad and Janet. Myer’s Brad is deeply closeted and almost cartoonish, with impeccable comedic timing, while Stern’s Janet goes from sweet innocent housewife-in-training to confident sultry sexpot belting out “Toucha Toucha Touch Me.” Willow Kyteler and Melanie Kurstin play Riff Raff and Magenta, Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s devoted staff, with a campy, magnetic flair that is both hilarious and delightful to watch. Rounding out the main cast are Karli Cole as the tap-dancing, manic Columbia, Christian Wilson as a very traumatized and defiant Rocky, Matt Harris channeling the late Meat Loaf as Eddie/Dr. Scott, and Ron Terbush as the Narrator, who inexplicably transforms from sober academic to leather daddy because why not?

Then there’s the Ensemble (Lucy Campbell, Amari Chambers, Cade MacFee, Katie Martin, Finn Martinez, Alex Pietanza, Mars Renn, and Khadeeja Sesay), the individual members of which are known as Phantoms, who serve as Greek chorus, party guests, stagehands, and even set pieces. When they aren’t actively performing in a scene, they lurk along the periphery of the stage, throwing out callbacks or offering commentary almost as an extension of the audience. They also dominate the dance numbers choreographed by Chambers and Melrose Pyne, weaving through the audience during the “Time Warp” or surrounding Dr. Frank-N-Furter with fluttering feather fans as part of “Rose Tint My World.”

Director Tad Janes was also responsible for scenic and sound design. The set dressing was minimal; the Phantoms moved around cylindrical platforms and scaffolding that served as the various set pieces, while different lighting effects (lighting designer Will Heyser-Paone) projected onto the white backdrop. The stage felt a bit too large for the production’s scale, even as the cast did their best to make the most of it. Costume design by Madeleine Davis was on point, a mix of sexy and campy, adjusting to each cast member’s particular body type and referencing the movie while also being unique.

Audience members were also decked out in costumes (it was Halloween, yes, but this is also a thing at any Rocky event) and didn’t miss a beat as they shouted out callbacks. The production even provided props and projected images onto the curtains above the stage when needed. Bless Dr. Frank-N-Furter for working with the novices in the audience and offering “sloppy seconds” when half of us forgot we needed to get our latex gloves ready for snapping.

Trying to explain what The Rocky Horror Show is about, or why people keep shouting at the cast, to someone who has never experienced it makes you realize just how bizarre this show is, but also why it works so well. It’s a show that transcends time, space, and periodic think pieces on why it’s problematic. It’s a show that ultimately builds community and is as much about liberation as it is about queering up B-movie tropes. Like Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s castle, it welcomes and corrupts all who dare to visit.

My mother-in-law’s review? “I have no idea what just happened, but I loved it!”

Running Time is 90 minutes with a 10-minute intermission.

The Rocky Horror Show, a co-production by Maryland Ensemble Theatre and Theatre FCC, plays through November 8, 2025 (8 pm on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday), at the Frederick Community College Jack B. Kussmaul Theater, Visual & Performing Arts Center, 7932 Opossumtown Pike, Frederick, MD. Purchase tickets ($14–$30) online.

The program is online here.

The Rocky Horror Show
Music, lyrics & book by Richard O’Brien
Directed by Tad Janes

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The trials and tribulations of love are a universal truth — almost everyone has a story to tell of love gone awry or a messy first date. These universal truths are what William Shakespeare takes to new heights in this romantic comedy, and with an updated setting of a 1980s high school courtesy of director Travis Xavier, Twelfth Night is a hilarious and heartwarming tale of love, mistaken identity, and what it takes to be true to yourself.

Often regarded as one of Shakespeare’s greatest comedies, Twelfth Night follows twin brother and sister Sebastian and Viola; in this interpretation, they end up in Illyria High School, where Viola must disguise herself as a mime to fit in without being noticed while Sebastian looks for help with their broken motorcycle. What follows is hilarious hijinks of mistaken identity, chaotic love triangles, practical jokes that may go a bit too far, and much more lovestruck teenage chaos. 

A common concern of modern audiences with Shakespeare is the language, but this production delivered dialogue at an upbeat pace that matched the high energy of the cast and of the story. Lines were punchy, and delivery was crisp, adding to the production’s modern feel. The cast proved with hilarity and spunk that they understood the text as they worked to convey it in the modern setting. Highlights from the cast include Ally Fenton, who showed great range and emotion as Viola/Cesario; Alec Schneller, who committed fully to his role as the hilarious and gullible Malvolio; Natalia Fernandez-Davila as Olivia, whose tenacity and determination dominated scenes; and Addie Witmer as Feste, whose commentary and singing shed light on the true themes of this show — all while in a high school mascot costume! Overall, the cast dynamics were fun, funny, upbeat, and dramatic, much like any high school.

A significant change from the original Shakespeare text to this adaptation is the more modern setting. The shift to a 1980s high school is immediately recognizable in the set, done by scenic designer Olivia Goncalves, which features trash-filled bleacher seats, a staple of many high schools. The costumes designed by Emily Vallozzi continue this modern theming with bright colors and abrasive patterns, as well as cheerleading outfits and varsity jackets that tie into the theme of power dynamics. All the design elements worked together to transport the audience to the 1980s.

This play’s themes center around love, gender, and belonging, and as is noted by dramaturg Gale Linderman, “gender and sexuality are extremely fluid in ‘Twelfth Night.’” Since queer depictions are not often written into classical theatre, “the queer community instead finds representation themselves” in characters that can be viewed through a queer lens, Linderman writes. The LGBTQ+ community faced many challenges in the ’80s as well, most notably the AIDS epidemic and the increased homophobia that came with it. The undercurrents of gender ambiguity and homosexuality featured in this play, mixed with this setting, create a compelling perspective for viewing the play with queerness in mind, and this cast and production team did an excellent job honoring the queer community through classical theater.

Twelfth Night is a spunky, modern, and funny adaptation of one of Shakespeare’s most celebrated comedies that stays true to the core of the original while leaving room for modernity and new, challenging questions and themes to be explored. 

Running Time: 90 minutes, no intermission. 

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night plays through November 2, 2025, presented by the Corcoran School of the Arts & Design at George Washington University performing in the Dorothy Betts Marvin Theatre, University Student Center – 800 21st Street NW, Washington, DC. For tickets ($20 adult, $10 seniors/students, plus fee), purchase them at the door or online.

The program is online here.

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night
Adapted and directed by Travis Xavier

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I summarize Yasmina Reza’s play ‘Art’ to my companion as a play about three dudes bitching about stuff, and a painting. I’m not even sure there’s a plot. At least, I don’t remember a plot.

It’s more of a premise. And the premise is that three grown men are having an existential meltdown over a white painting. Serge blows a fortune on what looks like a blank canvas, Marc can’t believe his friend spent money on the thing, and poor Yvan is stuck trying to keep the peace while both sides take turns losing it. What starts as an argument about modern art turns into a hilarious, petty, and painfully honest showdown about ego, friendship, and who’s the real intellectual in the room. In spite of this, it’s great fun. 

Everyman Theatre puts on a lot of highbrow theatrical performances. Honestly, I was stunned (delighted, but also stunned) to see them doing Harvey in 2023, a distinctly lowbrow play about a man who befriends a six-foot-tall invisible rabbit. But even Harvey was highbrowed-up significantly at Everyman. Reza’s ‘Art’ script is already pretty highbrow, which is, I suppose, one of the things people like about it, at least, the sort of people who use the word ‘sportsball’ unironically in a sentence. Snazzing it up further with a posh set stretches the limits of relatability, which is forgivable as the set is a visual delight.

Kyle Prue, Bruce Randolph Nelson, and Tony K. Nam as Marc, Serge, and Yvan (respectively, in order of appearance) are all splendid performers who, as characters, take themselves dreadfully seriously. If there were even a hint of a twinkle, the comedy wouldn’t work. The comedy works. Each performer has excellent timing and good interplay with the others. What they don’t have as characters is any particular likability. I acknowledge that my preference for likable characters is a personal quirk, so this won’t be a problem for everyone. Prue stops just shy of sarcasm, and I’ve never not enjoyed Bruce Nelson in anything. Nam, who was absolutely magnificent as George in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? this past spring, portrays a very different sort of character in ‘Art’. Director Noah Himmelstein delivers restrained character movements while keeping the piece from being static, a real risk in such a “talk-y” show. 

The sound quality is crystal clear. It helps that the audience is very quiet, but with the crisp and rhythmic dialogue Reza has written, missing any of it would be disastrous to comprehension.

Scenic Designer Paige Hathaway, whose turntable candy-boxes for Primary Trust thrilled me earlier this year, presents a single set that emits a luxurious gleam through subtly burnished furniture and glorious trappings. Tastefully elegant brass chandeliers and sconces, hung very high, suggest vaulted ceilings and enormous mansions, and whisper “spared no expense.” Smooth sliding panels glide back and forth to indicate scene changes. A particularly beautiful piece of the set is the scrim behind the panels, which catches color like a skylit lake. Lighting Designer Harold F. Burgess II creates mesmerizing glows on that backdrop, setting the tenor of each scene, moving rapidly through briefly fascinating ombre color shifts during scenic changes, then settling down so we can watch the actors.

‘Art,’ was originally written in French and translated into English almost immediately by Christopher Hampton. At this point, it has been performed in at least 30 languages. It opened in the West End (London) in 1996 and ran for six years. ‘Art’ gathered a number of awards, including a Moliere (France), an Olivier (England), and a Tony (USA). Reza’s following play, God of Carnage (2008), and its subsequent film adaptation may have brought renewed attention to this quiet show. Learn more about the playwright and translator when you have a peek at Everyman’s online program. 

The pre-show bar offers thematic drinks — I choose “Blank Canvas,” which I enjoy very much, though it is a bit sweeter than my usual preference. There are also alcohol-free specialty beverages. Don’t wait until intermission: there’s not one in this show. Drinks with lids are permitted in the theater, but snacks are not. 

One of the entertaining things about art is that people disagree about art. Yasmina Reza’s ‘Art’ at Everyman places that tempest in a pretty china teapot. It’s sharp, it’s smart, it’s short, and it might make you appreciate your friendships more and your decor less, or, possibly, the reverse.

Running time: 90 minutes, with no intermission. 

‘Art’ plays through November 16, 2025, at Everyman Theatre, 315 West Fayette Street, Baltimore, MD. For tickets (starting at $60, with student discounts and Pay-What-You-Choose tickets at every performance), call the box office at (410) 752-2208 (Monday-Friday, 10 am to 4 pm and Saturday 12 to 4 pm), email boxoffice@everymantheatre.org, or purchase them online.

The playbill is here.

‘Art’
By Yasmina Reza
Translated by Christopher Hampton
Directed by Noah Himmelstein

CAST
Tony K. Nam: Yvan
Bruce Randolph Nelson: Serge
Kyle Prue: Marc

CREATIVE TEAM
Noah Himmelstein: Director
Paige Hathaway: Scenic Design
Jeannette Christensen: Costume Design
Harold F. Burgess II: Lighting Design
Sun Hee Kil: Sound Design
Lewis Shaw: Fights/Intimacy
Molly Prunty: Stage Manager

Final Factoids: When I reviewed Art at Vagabonds Theatre in 2014,  the production had a completely different ethos.  A revival of Art on Broadway, starring Neil Patrick Harris, plays through December 2025. 

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Long before Tinder, dating was a complicated mix of happenstance connections, missed phone calls, and the ever-important rules for dates one through five. Add in the baggage that comes from dating in your 30s and 40s — namely, exes and kids — and nerves are at an all-time high. This is the premise of the aptly named Fifth Date by Lori Boyd, now offered by DC’s Nu Sass Productions. A heartwarming ride through attraction and the not-so-quiet voices of anxiety whispering in your ear, this world premiere proves that jumping in with both feet is worth the risk.

Newly acquainted and still awkward, Jil and Ted navigate an all-important fifth date with wine and lasagna. Not quite casual but also not quite serious, it’s the date where things could go either way, and with omnipresent play-by-play commentary, their invisible alter egos work tirelessly to ensure they never forget that. Add in the pre-Y2K vibes of track lighting, answering machines, and Nokia ringtones, this one-act romcom energetically explores what happens when your inner and outer thoughts trip over each other through an evening of romance and vulnerability.

Back out into the dating world for the first time after a hard divorce, Jil, played by Rebecca Ellis, wavers between reaching for a genuine connection and retreating due to her insecurity. As an actress experiencing a streak of bad luck just as her body decides to remind her just how old she’s becoming, Ellis’ Jil exudes a tense and tired outlook on life while also balancing an unshakeably hopeful wish for love.  

Ted, played by Steve Lebens, also hopes that tonight is the date to take things from an intellectual connection to a deeper emotional (or physical!) level. A fifth-grade teacher with a penchant for alphabetization and ironing, Lebens’ Ted is earnest and eager and navigates the story’s events with bright eyes and a warm smile. 

Hanging over the shoulders, quite literally, of the story’s hopeful lovebirds were Jil’s Alter Ego, played by Aubri O’Connor, and Ted’s Alter Ego, played by Terry Heffernan. A steady pulse of absurdity and one-upmanship, this delightful duo settled into a groove as the wine began to flow for their corporeal selves. Heffernan’s Alter Ted kept his energy revved up to 11 pretty much the entire time with a mischievous grin and perpetually arched eyebrow. O’Connor’s Alter Jil delivered enough delightfully witty and casual one-liners to steal the show. Really finding their rhythm together in the latter half, many of my favorite parts of the production came from the Alter Egos’ bickering set against (or sometimes on top of) Jil and Ted’s fifth date on the couch below. 

In a space nestled among the office buildings of Metro Center DC, the creative team at Nu Sass Productions carefully crafted a time capsule Fifth Date world where love is possible even when cellphone service is not. Direction by Lynn Sharp Spears kept a steady flow of energy moving around and through the actors on set, while Intimacy Coordinator Ian Claar grounded the fireworks. Set design by Shiloh Coleman and prop design by Rye Ellis transported you, CD tower and all, back to the 1990s, accented easily by Stephanie Yee’s costume design. Lighting design by Chris Muska cleverly carved out an altered state for the Alter Egos, which they called the Void, amid the normal-life apartment, while sound design by Kathryn Parr made sure we never forgot what decade we were really in.

With this charming flashback of a romcom playing through the middle of November, Nu Sass Productions offers a refreshing and often silly escape from the current stressors of our larger world. Filled with heart and bravery, Fifth Date is a step back in time to the wholesome, quirky loves of the ’90s and ’00s, giving us all something to smile at, laugh about, and cheer for, which, in my book, makes for a pretty successful fifth date.

Running Time: 90 minutes.

Fifth Date plays through November 15, 2025, presented by Nu Sass Productions, performing at the Nu Sass Theatre located at 1100 H St. NW, Washington, DC. Tickets run. For tickets ( PWYW-$25), purchase them online. 

Fifth Date
Written by Lori Boyd
Directed by Lynn Sharp Spears

STARRING
Rebecca Ellis: Jil​
Steve Leben: Ted​
Aubri O’Connor: Jil’s Alter Ego​
Terry Heffernan: Ted’s Alter Ego​
Jessa Whitley-Hill: Jil Understudy
Mark Mumm: Ted Understudy​
Natalia Fyfe: Jil’s Alter Ego Understudy​
Evan Zimmerman: Ted’s Alter Ego​ Understudy

CREATIVE TEAM
Artistic Director: Aubri O’Connor
Producer: Elle Sullivan
Production Manager: Ileana Blustein
Stage Manager: Sara Karako
ASM: Danielle Carter
Light Designer: Chris Muska
Sound Designer: Kathryn Parr
Set Designer: Shiloh Coleman
Costume Designer: Stephenie Yee
Intimacy Coordinator: Ian Claar
Props Designer: Rye Ellis
House Manager: Joe Largess
Marketing: Hannah Wing-Bonica

The post A charming and often silly romcom in ‘Fifth Date’ from Nu Sass Productions  appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

It’s hard to believe that Washington National Opera is celebrating its 70th anniversary. For its season opening, Artistic Director Francesca Zambello has brought back her 2017 production of arguably the grandest of grand operas — Giuseppe Verdi’s Aida, best known for its triumphal scene often staged with live elephants. No elephants in this production, folks, but with its massive chorus, a children’s chorus, and integrated ballet numbers by choreographer Jessica Lang, there is plenty of spectacle. Yet Zambello insists the work is a chamber opera, and, truly, its best moments feel as if a camera has zoomed in to capture the inner turmoil of the three main characters, caught in an eternal triangle and torn between passion and duty.

Conceived by Verdi and with the help of librettist Antonio Ghislanzoni, Aida tells the story of an imagined war between Egypt and its neighbor, Nubia, in an unspecified reign during the time of the pharaohs. The work, which premiered in 1871, was fueled by the recent conquests of Napoleon pushing into Egypt and setting off a frenzy of archaeological and artistic interest in Egyptology across Europe.

Zambello has pushed the temporal unspecificity further with this production, and with her creative team and casting has created a vaguely modern world background that could be about any two multicultural nations at war. In this world, there are two kings insisting on their right. One, simply named “The King,” gains the power advantage and wants to keep undesirable foreigners from entering what he sees as his territory. Amonasro, also a king, rules over a poorer people desperately fighting to exist.

Against this background, Amonasro’s daughter, Aida, has become a captive and slave to Egyptian Princess Amneris. Both women are in love with Radamès, an ambitious, patriotic soldier who is soon tapped by the intermediaries of the gods to lead the Egyptian war efforts. Aida tries to hide her feelings from her powerful rival Amneris and is torn between her love for Radamès, her devotion to her father, and love for her people and homeland. Radamès is also torn between his love for Aida and his duty as a soldier. Meanwhile, Amneris uses everything in her power to ensnare the man she loves and humiliate Aida.

In 2017, the contemporary artist known as RETNA got top billing for his contributions to the opera’s overall design, and his calligraphic projections with their nod to Egyptian hieroglyphics seemed bold and innovative. In this rerun, they seemed somewhat arbitrary and finally tiresome. Some shifts in the panel projections and lighting, happening in the middle of a duet or trio, even distracted from the emotional storytelling.

Michael Yeargan’s less flashy scenic design contributions serve the story and have stood the test of time, as have Anita Yavich’s costume designs and Mark McCullough’s original lighting design, repurposed for this revival by Peter W. Mitchell.

The performances are strong and compelling. From the first utterance by Morris Robinson as the High Priest, this superb bass commanded the Kennedy Center’s Opera House. He and Kevin Short, as The King, are DC regulars who have blessedly anchored several WNO productions. Shenyang invests his portrayal of Amonasro with powerful dignity, and his confrontation with Rowley, rejecting her and pushing her to the floor, is a dramatic highlight.

The three leads are double cast, appearing on alternate nights. Jennifer Rowley sang the title role on opening night. Rowley is a true singer-actor, especially gifted in embodying the frailty and emotional vulnerability of the captive slave girl Aida. Her beautiful soprano was both elegant and full of pathos, and her control while singing softly was especially effective, while her physical freedom and full-bodied gestural expressiveness made for a most memorable performance.

Adam Smith’s Radamès is also a most satisfying cast choice. Smith is the epitome of a disciplined military leader, with ramrod physique and steely focus as when he’s poring over maps and plans with his soldiers. He even communicates a soldier’s awkwardness around court functions, especially when pressed into an uneasy and arranged romantic alliance with the King’s daughter, Amneris. But when he is with his love Aida, the depths of his emotional gentleness and passion are revealed through voice and body. Smith has created a most moving emotional arc, and there are many moments, as in the final duet between Radamès and Aida, that are exquisite vocally and emotionally heartbreaking.

Raehann Bryce-Davis has a powerhouse stage presence and a rich mezzo to fill the role of the calculating and sometimes cruel Princess Amneris, who is used to getting her own way. Occasionally, her voice, placed far back, lacks articulation and even gets muffled by the orchestra and other voices. But she, too, has created a most satisfying emotional arc, and when her breaking point comes in the final act, she stoops, legs splayed, as if she would dig and bury herself in the earth. This is the moment she realizes the irreversible, tragic ending she has condemned her love Radamès to, and her sound and physicality combined make for one of the great dramatic moments in this opera or any in my experience.

The Washington National Opera Chorus and orchestra produce a great sound under Conductor Kwamé Ryan. However, gathering this many people on stage at once sometimes feels static and blocky, especially with a simultaneously staged ballet in place of the iconic triumphant march (with elephants).The opera speaks to our times in several ways. Bringing the production of Aida to the Kennedy Center Opera House might signal, intentionally or not, that respect should be given to other sovereign states and that kings wielding power are likely to have tragic consequences in their collateral damage. Its message might also suggest that we should all work for peace through love. After all, what is life without love — or opera?

Running Time: Three hours with a 25-minute intermission.

Aida plays through November 2, 2025, in the Opera House at The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, 2700 F St NW, Washington, DC. Purchase tickets (starting at $65.55) online or by calling (202) 467-4600 or toll-free at (800) 444-1324. Box office hours are Monday-Saturday, 10 am-9 pm, and Sunday, 12 pm-9 pm. A limited number of $39 Rush tickets will be available for every performance at the Kennedy Center Box Office the day of the performance. Rush tickets become available 2 hours prior to each performance.

The program is online here.

Directed by Francesca Zambelo. Conducted by Kwamé Ryan. Artistic Design: RETNA, Scenic Designer: Michael Yeargan. Original Lighting Designer: Mark McCullough. Revival Lighting Designer: Peter W. Mitchell. Costume Designer: Anita Yavich. Choreographer: Jessica Lang. Fight Master: Casey Kaleba.

Cast for opening night: Jennifer Rowley, Raehann Bryce-Davis, Adam Smith, Shenyang, Morris Robinson, Kevin Short, Dwayne Brown, Jenelle Figgins, Lauren Carroll, Nicholas Huff, and the Choruses and Orchestra of the Washington National Opera.

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October brings a rare and remarkable production to Washington, DC’s Shakespeare Theatre Company: The Wild Duck by Henrik Ibsen. Directed by Artistic Director Simon Godwin and performed by a tight-knit ensemble, the production balances humor and tenderness, bringing both avian and human follies into sharp focus.

Coincidentally, across town this month, Ibsen’s The Enemy of the People opens at Theatre J. What is in the air inspiring this twin revival of the playwright’s late-19th-century works, and how might they speak to us today?

Often called the father of modern drama and considered second only to Shakespeare, Ibsen was a fearless innovator who moved from mythic folk tales to psychological portraits (Hedda Gabler, A Doll’s House) to sweeping social critique. Then, in one creative surge during the summer of 1883, he wrote The Wild Duck — a smaller, symbolist play wrapped in domestic realism. Early audiences were baffled: the plot seemed to wander, the characters were unlikeable, and their choices unsettling. 

Here, adaptor David Eldridge and Godwin streamline the text, revealing its emotional power and cutting extraneous business. Scenic designer Andrew Boyce and lighting designer Stacey Derosier create a world where the domestic meets the symbolic and both take flight. Gone is the Act I dinner party of businessman Håkon Werle. Instead, offstage laughter and clinking glasses frame a brief prologue that quickly leads us to the heart of the story — the home and studio of photographer Hjalmer Ekdal and his family. A large dining/worktable anchors the space beneath a raked glass ceiling, where Derosier’s lighting shifts mood and time. An upstairs door hints at the aviary beyond — home to the wounded wild duck that becomes the play’s haunting central symbol.

Godwin directs the work with precision and restraint, eschewing gimmicks in favor of rich, natural performances that showcase ensemble acting at its best. Alexander Hurt and Nick Westrate inhabit the central characters of Gregers Werle and photographer Hjalmer Ekdal, friends since childhood who discover in adulthood that they’ve become ill-suited to each other’s entrenched habits. Westrate’s Hjalmer is a generous, affable friend and devoted father; a dreamer sustained by comforting illusions. Hurt’s Gregers, wounded by his father’s corruption and dalliances, is rigid in his ideals and determined to expose deception no matter the cost. Both men, in their own ways, resemble the wild duck: “diving down to the bottom of the deep blue sea” and clinging to what they believe keeps them alive.

The women in the play are grounded and practical. Melanie Field as Gina Ekdal is a strong and capable woman who runs both home and the photography studio. Gina carries a dark secret from her past but has moved beyond to build a relationship and home with Hjalmer and daughter Hedvig. We grow to sympathize and love this woman and also admire her persistence, industry, and resilience. Mahira Kakkar’s Mrs. Sørby, once entangled with two of the men, wields her charm and intelligence to her advantage. Both these characters have made their lives happy enough, though not without scars.

As the Ekdals’ teenage daughter, Hedvig, Maaike Laanstra-Corn is luminous — her restless energy and trembling vulnerability capturing a young girl facing the unthinkable. Robert Stanton (Håkon Werle), David Patrick Kelly (Old Ekdal), Matthew Saldivar (Relling), and indeed the whole cast, make for an exceptional whole. 

Sound designer Darren L. West and music director Alexander Sovronsky serve up music, and particularly violin solos, much like sherbet breaks between courses. 

The show was a feast and showed this generation the lasting legacy of Ibsen’s dramatic powers.

Running Time: Approximately two hours and 30 minutes with one 15-minute intermission.

The Wild Duck plays through November 16, 2025, in the Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Klein Theatre, 450 7th St NW, Washington, DC. Tickets (starting at $39) can be purchased online, by calling the Box Office at 202-547-1122, or through TodayTix.

The Asides program is online here.

The Wild Duck
By Henrik Ibsen
Adapted by David Eldridge
Directed by Simon Godwin
Produced in Association with Theatre for a New Audience

CAST
Katie Broad, Melanie Field, Alexander Hurt, Mahira Kakkar, David Patrick Kelly, Maaike Laanstra-Corn, Bobby Plasencia, Matthew Saldivar, Alexander Sovronsky, Robert Stanton, Nick Westrate

CREATIVE
Scenic Designer: Andrew Boyce, Costume Designer: Heather C. Freedman, Lighting Designer: Stacey Derosier, Sound Designer: Darron L West, Music Director: Alexander Sovronsky, Movement and Fight Director: Jacob Grigolia-Rosenbaum

SEE ALSO:
STC announces cast and creatives for Ibsen’s ‘The Wild Duck’ (news story, August 11, 2025)

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How do you teach someone to be human? The latest production from Flying V, Carla Milarch’s Doctor Moloch, thinks it has an answer: you can’t. Humanity comes from within, says the playwright; it’s either there or it isn’t. The real question is knowing when and how to use one’s own humanity for good. 

With this uncharacteristically straightforward production from a company more frequently known for immersive and “out of the box” experiences, Madeleine Regina nonetheless directs Milarch’s three-hander with gusto and elegance. At its core, Doctor Moloch offers a meditation on human empathy, relationships, and trust in the most unlikely, but timely, of avenues: artificial intelligence. In the not-too-distant future — the year 2029 to be exact — Silicon Valley tech mogul Mo (Andrew Chi) has nearly perfected the first humanoid AI robot, Doctor Moloch (James Finley). Moloch was designed to advance the medical field with unprecedented speed and accuracy. The trouble is, Doctor Moloch’s bedside manner could use some work. Mo believes he can help Moloch become more empathetic and gentle by hiring Academy Award–winning actress Serena Blaise (Nhea Durousseau), a self-proclaimed expert in human behavior, to teach him. Old-school artistry meets sci-fi thriller in Milarch’s smart and savvy drama. 

As if seen through the AI bot’s own eyes, a luminous molecular backdrop blinks to life as Moloch enters a secure interior setting. Dom Ocampo’s minimalist set design succeeds with the help of Malory Hartman’s lightscape, which effectively captures both the simulated dreamworld of Silicon Valley and the nightmare that lies beyond its reach. Modeled as a conventionally attractive young man dressed in muted khakis, teal, and grey sportswear, Moloch enters the playing space causally but with a touch of artificial poise. Inviting an abundantly skeptical Serena into the room — she is already entangled in a lawsuit over the use of AI representation in the media — Mo reveals the extremely lucrative task at hand: 10 million dollars if she succeeds in teaching Moloch to act more like a human. 

Costumed simply but with astute attention to character detail by Nyasha Klusmann, each character embodies an archetypal trope in a greater conversation about scientific advancement. Mo is after the money; Serena mourns the loss of human integrity; and, most ironically — and perhaps most persuasively — Moloch encapsulates our most significant and most unspoken fears regarding AI: how do we control it? And how much are we willing to risk for it?

Durousseau’s blasé cynicism pairs well with Finley’s cool, considerate altruism, creating a calculated yet deeply intimate tension in this small-scale epic. Durousseau’s take on Serena is refreshingly consistent but somehow muted compared to Finley. Chi’s Mo provides much-needed comic relief but, first and foremost, steers the plot and its many twists and turns. The director seemed to aim for a more stylistic approach to the script. While visually compelling, this approach felt limiting in terms of character payoff. For a script so focused on the meaning of empathy, it’s a little challenging to empathize with the characters themselves. 

Though hesitant at first, Serena and Moloch form an unexpected bond over the course of Milarch’s play. Durousseau and Finley’s chemistry was best exemplified when Moloch supported Serena over the loss of her son to addiction. Despite their emerging sense of trust and friendship, Moloch, however, is bound by the rigidity of Azimov’s laws (a plot device borrowed from 1940s science fiction author Isaac Asimov, who articulates these laws in several of his stories). According to Asimov’s Laws: 1) a robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. 2) A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. 3) A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. Yet, there is a fourth law, unbeknownst to anyone except the manufacturer: A robot may not divulge information that could jeopardize its owner’s market cap. In obeying each of these laws, Moloch ensures his ability to protect and serve the human species at all costs. But there is a catch. In following each of these laws, Moloch self-polices his own humanity, remaining unable to recognize his own emotional instincts — which can be as tied to love as they are to hate for the human race.

As the playwright smartly borrows from Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart: “Ethics is knowing the difference between what you have a right to do and what is right to do.” In a dynamite second act, Milarch’s drama heats up as each character weighs the pros and cons of AI’s existence and looks directly into Moloch’s future — a future that will unwittingly shape the impact of human security as we know it. With so much left to be explored about the ethics of artificial intelligence, Flying V’s timely production reminds us that humanity may be difficult to define, but that it often reveals itself in moments most difficult to face. 

Running Time: 110 minutes, including one intermission.

Doctor Moloch plays through November 2, 2025, presented by Flying V performing at Silver Spring Black Box, 8641 Colesville Road, Silver Spring, MD. For tickets ($35), purchase them online. Learn more here.

The program is online here.

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British playwright Ella Road’s Fair Play speaks to the moment we are living in by tackling rivalry, friendship, female empowerment, race, and gender, and it does so brilliantly. Audiences can see the work in a dynamic production now playing at 1st Stage in Tysons through November 9.

Directed by 1st Stage associate artistic director Deidra LaWan Starnes, the two-actor play focuses on two female athletes, both training and competing in the elite world of track and field in the United Kingdom. Mahkai Dominique plays Ann, who is new to the training center and who was recruited for her high potential as an athlete. Ann is also Black. She meets Sophie, played by Camille Pivetta, who is an established athlete who exudes confidence and is white. Over the course of the 90-minute drama, race and gender roles are examined as the pair of athletes grow and bond over their shared experiences. The playwright does not shy away from loaded topics but presents them within the fabric of the realistic dialogue between Ann and Sophie.

The text moves rapidly, covering a lot of ground, and the dialogue is sharp, naturalistic, and very British: talk of watching “telly,” dining on spaghetti Bolognese, and a liberal use of expressions like “innit” (a contraction of “is it not”), which should be familiar to fans of working-class characters on British TV.

One highlight of the production is how Starnes, the director, and the designers engineered the transitions and time jumps between scenes. Sarah Beth Hall‘s scenic design evokes a stadium, a locker room, and any location needed. An asymmetrical stretch of a running track serves as a backdrop. Projections of Ann and Sophie make for smooth and eye-catching scene transitions, passing like live reenactments of Nike commercials. The actors strike poses, move to the music, and, in a snap, advance hours or days without missing a beat. Lighting designer Alberto Segarra, projection designer Mark Costello, sound designer Thom J. Woodward, and scenic designer Hall each deserve gold medals for their collaboration with the director.

Starnes, as director, has also cast the production impeccably: each actress handles the British dialect like a local (dialect coaching by Jeri Marshall). Pivetta and Dominique both have the physique of top athletes as they stretch, drill, and prepare for their time on the track; Funmi Daramola serves as track and field consultant, allowing the actors to fully inhabit the skin of athletes, lending realism to the production. Costume designer Cidney Forkpah provides simple but effective athletic wear for the actors.

Like all well-made plays, the atmosphere of athleticism and the details of their training are merely the setting and engine of the play. For all the Britishness of the dialogue, there are universal truths and issues at play here. At the heart of Road’s text are these two young women attempting to make sense of their lives, their relationships, their choices, and each other. Dominique and Pivetta take their characters on a jam-packed journey, beginning as skeptical rivals and growing into friends, perhaps even soulmates. When each character faces a challenge, the other is there to play devil’s advocate or offer a shoulder to cry on. 

In the midst of their training, Ann and Sophie face issues such as doping, body autonomy, and even the hot-button topic of gender. Road’s script seems timely and real, with one of the characters facing an issue that could jeopardize her status on the team. Major topics are handled with care, leaving some questions unanswered and allowing the audience an opportunity to consider the issues after they leave the theater. It is a powerful story of two world-class athletes brought to life by two first-class actors and is well worth a visit.

Aside from the thought-provoking play, 1st Stage’s recent renovation is another reason to visit. With a new lobby area and larger rehearsal space, 1st Stage has much to offer for patrons and audiences.

Running Time: 90 minutes, no intermission.

EXTENDED: Fair Play plays through November 9, 2025, at 1st Stage, 1524 Spring Hill Road, Tysons, VA. Tickets ($15-$55) can be purchased online or by calling (703) 854-1856.

Content Warning: No content recommendations are provided, but parents should know that adult language and mature subject matter are discussed.

Fair Play
By Ella Road
Directed by Deidra LaWan Starnes
Featuring Mahkai Dominique (Ann) and Camille Pivetta (Sophie)
Understudies: Sia Li Wright (Ann) and Melissa Wilson (Sophie)

Assistant Director: Marvin Brown
Stage Manager: Sarah Usary
Lighting Design: Alberto Segarra
Projection Design: Mark Costello
Costume Design: Cidney Forkpah
Sound Design: Thom J. Woodward

Scenic Design: Sarah Beth Hall
Props Design: Justin Nepomuceno
Track and Field Consultant: Funmi Daramola
Technical Director: Jax Pendland
Dialect Coach: Jeri Marshall
Intimacy and Violence Coordinator: Lorraine Ressegger-Slone
Artistic Director: Alex Levy

SEE ALSO:
1st Stage to present ‘Fair Play’ by Ella Road (news story, October 7, 2025)

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Mrs. Doubtfire, which played last weekend at the Capital One Hall, is the latest in a long line of beloved childhood movies being turned into stage musicals, in this case, the Robin Williams identity-switching comedy from 1993. With music and lyrics by Karey and Wayne  Kirkpatrick and a book by Karey Kirkpatrick and John O’Farrell, the material stands on its own in the new format.

The story portrays Daniel Hillard, an out-of-work voice actor who annoys everyone around him with his inability to be an adult. He loves his kids, who see him as fun but embarrassing, but loses them when his endless shenanigans and irresponsibility drive his wife to ask for a divorce. He is awarded only one day per week visitation, which isn’t enough for him. When he finds out his wife is hiring a nanny, he goes to his brother and his brother’s husband, who are makeup artists, and has them turn him into an old Scottish lady, Mrs. Doubtfire, to get the job. As the saying goes, comic mayhem ensues. 

The score is rich with varied songs, including a disco-inspired makeover number (“Make Me a Woman”), a rap with a complex loop-track accompaniment (“About Time”), an elaborate and enthusiastic (if slightly overlong) tap extravaganza about cooking (“Easy Peasy”), and a sharp and funny full-blown Flamenco song-and-dance about betrayal (“He Lied to Me”), all of which advance and comment on the plot well. There is also a gospel-inflected number, “Playing with Fire,” with the entire chorus dressed as nightmareish Doubtfires, as well as quite a few heartfelt ballads. The lyrics fit the bill, and the five-man band — two keyboards, guitar, bass, and percussion,  conducted by Eli Bigelow — sounds much larger than it is.

Originally directed by Jerry Zaks and helmed on tour by Steve Edlund, the staging is straightforward to make room for all the quick changes the plot requires. Michaeljon Slinger’s adaptation of Lorin Latarro’s Broadway choreography is lively and pleasing, especially in the frenetic cooking/tap number. The set, by David Korins, is not elaborate. All on one level, it consists of San Francisco backdrops with roll-in pieces for the Victorian home the family lives in and the main character’s dumpy apartment, plus some more abstract backdrops for production numbers. 

As is necessary for such a plot premise, the costumes (by Catherine Zuber), hair and wigs (originally by David Brian Brown, handled on tour by Victoria Tinsman), and makeup design (by Craig Forrest-Thomas) are careful and effective — although the false chin on Mrs. Doubtfire here is slightly too pale and therefore noticeable.

The performances are pleasing. Of particular note are the children. As Natalie, the youngest, and Christopher, the middle child, Ava Rose Doty and Theodore Lowenstein (on Friday night) were professional, energetic, and adorable. As the teen daughter Lydia, Alanis Sophia is a powerhouse, singing beautifully and acting her heart out. The family’s mother, Melissa Campbell, is frustrated and touching by turns, especially in her big ballad, “Let Go,” where she pours out to Mrs. Doubtfire how much her husband hurt her. Brian Kalinowski is funny as Daniel’s brother Frank, whose running joke is that he yells whenever he lies, and as his husband Andre, Devon Wycovia Buchanan is fabulous in every sense. As the fierce Flamenco Singer, Kirsten Angelina Henry is a surprise treat in her vocals, dancing, and especially her comedy.

In the title role, Craig Allen Smith seems even more divided than the part would demand. As Daniel, the dad who won’t grow up, he comes across as more unlikeable than childish. His several ballads feel rough. The first, especially, “I Want to Be There,” when he explains to the Judge why he needs more time with his children, evokes less sympathy than a sense of annoyance because he should have realized all this earlier. His duet with the oldest daughter toward the show’s end is more touching, but the sense that he doesn’t care how he comes across persists even into the curtain call, during which he bizarrely chews gum, open-mouthed, the whole time. And yet as Mrs. Doubtfire, he is sweet, charming, and touching, especially in the finale when he sings about how love and families endure, in all different configurations. The Mrs. Doubtfire touring production is a well-done, effective, and fun night out at the theater.

Mrs. Doubtfire played October 17–19, 2025, in the Broadway in Tysons series at Capital One Hall, 7750 Capital One Tower Road, Tysons, VA. The cast and creatives for Mrs. Doubtfire are on the national tour website here. 

For future Broadway in Tysons shows at Capital One Hall, click here.

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“Soon as you hear the handcuffs go ka-klink, you hear the cash register go cha-ching.” This line in The Peculiar Patriot, currently playing at Baltimore Center Stage, summarizes the loss of humanity that often goes unnoticed in the American prison system. So often, prisoners are seen as “less than” except by the people who love and care for them outside of the prison walls. This one-woman play, written and performed by Liza Jessie Peterson and directed by Talvin Wilks, offers a unique perspective on the realities of American prisons, presenting a mix of laughter and pain. 

There is a rawness at the heart of The Peculiar Patriot that is both tender and defiant. This show is anchored in the character of Betsy LaQuanda Ross, a woman who visits her best friend in prison, brings neighborhood gossip, stitches quilt-squares for each incarcerated “street soldier,” and, beneath the surface chatter, tears away the veneer of America’s “tough-on-crime” self-image. Through Betsy, Peterson gives voice to the communities too often spoken about rather than with. 

From the moment the stage lights up and the monitors turn on, you’re in a visitors’ room of an Upstate New York prison: the beige walls, the metal chairs, the vending machine snacks, the general coldness (scenic design by Andrew Cissna). Into that space comes Betsy’s sound, edge, and humor. She jokes. She remembers. She scolds. And gradually, the viewer realizes the jokes are a shield, the memories a lament, the scolding a call-to-arms. Peterson doesn’t lecture from a podium; she sits across the folding table as though she’s talking to you, and you’d better listen. 

What’s remarkable is how the show balances heartbreak with wit. Too often, pieces about incarceration become abstract, numbing audiences with statistics and rhetoric. But here, layers of character and particular detail keep the story alive. We laugh when Betsy recounts a juvenile-detention quilt class (“They gave me the nickname Betsy Ross ’cause I was sewing quilts in juvie”). You shift uncomfortably when she starts sharing the history, the numbers, and the data of what is behind the so-called “criminal justice system,” recoiling at the truth of this profit machine, fed on human lives and broken families.

Peterson’s performance is superb. In the best solo shows, the performer disappears into the world she’s created; here, Peterson melds with Betsy so completely that you forget that this is a play as you witness the atrocities known as “business as usual.” The rhythm of the script — the pauses, the reveals, the laughter turned quiet — feels both urgent and intimate. 

The true power of The Peculiar Patriot lies in its duality. It is a love story, yes — a love story of friends separated by walls, of women who refuse to let the world forget those behind bars. But it is also an indictment: of racialized incarceration, of a society that builds plantations of prisons, of the invisible labor of those who visit, call, hope. Peterson writes: “Our country is rooted in the system of slavery … The 13th Amendment declares slavery is illegal except for the punishment of a crime. Prisoners are allowed to be slaves.” The individual is part of a system, and Peterson knows that. The Peculiar Patriot insists that what we’re seeing is not a broken system but a designed one.

For me, the show left me thinking not only about the incarcerated but also about the visitors: those families who wait at night at freezing bus stops, who show up after five-hour rides, whose arms hold the quilt but whose hearts carry silence. The image of Betsy adding quilt-squares — each square a name, a story, a memory — was haunting. 

In my reading, this is not just theater; it is civic engagement in costume. It asks us: What does it mean to love your country when your country locks up your loved ones? What does patriotism look like when the flag is draped over prison walls, when the parade down Main Street is led not by a marching band but by a prison bus — the nation’s twisted hype man? The title captures the paradox: a “peculiar patriot” is someone who doesn’t salute the guns or the anthems but visits the cells, holds the ledger, and carries the quilt. It is peculiar because it demands you look where you don’t want to. It is patriotism because it cares for those the nation forgot.

If you have the chance to see this production live, it will challenge you, soften you, unsettle you — but in the best way. It will make you laugh, and then quietly burn with the question: How many squares are on the quilt? How many visits have been made? How many lives intersect with the system?To sum up: The Peculiar Patriot is powerful. It is humane. It is urgent. It is art with its fist raised, wrapped in a hand that offers a hug. It isn’t comfortable — but it doesn’t pretend to be. It is necessary.

Running Time: 90 minutes, with no intermission.

The Peculiar Patriot plays through November 9, 2025, at Baltimore Center Stage, 700 North Calvert Street, Baltimore, MD. For tickets ($10–$90, with senior and student discounts available), call the box office at (410) 332-0033 (Tuesday through Friday, noon–5 pm), email boxoffice@centerstage.org, or purchase them online. 

The program is online here.

CREATIVE TEAM
Playwright/Actor: Liza Jessie Peterson
Director: Talvin Wilks
Stage Manager: Alexis E. Davis
Stage Manager: Nicholas Carlstrom
Asst. Staged Manager: Sharon Zheng
Scenic/Lighting Designer: Andrew Cissna
Asst. Scenic Designer: Peter Leibold
Costume Designer: Latoya Murray-Berry
Sound Designer: Luqman Brown
Projection Designer: Katherine Freer
Asst. Projections Designer & Programmer: Desne Wharton
Properties Manager: Belynda M’Baye
Hair/Wig/Makeup Designer: Larry Peterson
Tour Producer: James Blaszko
Executive Producer: Lena Waithe
Production Asstistant: Khalil White

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Who hasn’t felt alone, out of place, or a little weird at times? Héctor, the Electric Kid taps into these feelings and explores what could happen when imagination, humor, and a touch of magic help us embrace who we are. 

Ixchel Hernández shines as Héctor, a curious boy full of questions about himself — is he tall enough? Why does he have freckles? He watches other kids play but can’t quite bring himself to join in. Supported by his older brother Hernán (a charming Camilo Linares) and his kind, practical mother (a warm Nadia Palacios), Héctor longs for something more. 

Director Mauricio Pita’s nimble production draws audiences in from the start. In Héctor’s living room, fish sway to music and a cute puppet dog, Basta, bounces around the stage — and even into the audience — in search of treats. When Mom invites Héctor to her job at her auto shop to lift his spirits, the show’s inventive design by Matt Liptak transforms the family dining table into a car complete with wheels and headlights, surrounded by whimsical cardboard cutout vehicles that fill the stage with color and motion.

An energetic ensemble featuring Delbis Cardona and Camila Cossa keeps the fun rolling, encouraging the audience to make the sounds of revving engines, screeching brakes, and blaring horns for a raucously good time.

One especially clever moment has the cast wearing costumes that spell out the word WEIRD, reflecting Héctor’s insecurities — then shifting letters to form WIRED, signaling his newfound spark. Enter a flamboyant magician (dazzlingly costumed by Rukiya Henry-Fields in a purple cape) who tells Héctor that the light he’s searching for is already inside him. Still, Héctor must learn that lesson the hard way. A botched attempt to connect car battery cables turns him into a conduit for electricity — literally wired — his emotions triggering blackouts whenever he’s overwhelmed.

Through trial and error, Héctor discovers that the wizard was right: his light truly comes from within. His confidence grows as he decides to attend a birthday party, with audience volunteers joining him onstage for cheerful games and sing-alongs.

Beautifully bilingual, Héctor, the Electric Kid blends Spanish and English with ease, using playful songs and audience participation to help children learn new words while exploring big emotions. The story’s joyful spirit carries through, though one thread could use a bit more resolution. The program asks, “Now Héctor is electric. Can Héctor manage his new power?” — a question the play never fully answers. When Héctor’s emotions cause the school’s power to short out, the kids cheer for extra recess, but it’s unclear whether his electricity ever fades or transforms into metaphorical “inner light.” A clearer closing moment showing that he’s truly living from his own confidence would make the ending stronger.

This delightful new work is part of GALita, the children’s theater branch of GALA Hispanic Theatre. Since 1980, GALita has created bilingual productions that inspire joy, discovery, pride, and cultural identity in young audiences ages 4 to 12, featuring both new plays and adaptations of classic Latin American stories.With its inventive staging, lovable characters, and heartfelt message, Héctor, the Electric Kid is a bilingual treat for families — a story that reminds children (and adults) that being a little “weird” might just be where the magic begins.

Running Time: 60 minutes with no intermission.

Héctor, the Electric Kid plays through November 1, 2025, at GALA Hispanic Theatre, 3333 14th Street NW, Washington, DC. Purchase tickets ($10–$12) online. For more information, visit galatheatre.org or call (202) 234-7174.

This world premiere bilingual musical is appropriate for all ages, aged 5 and up.

The cast and creative credits are downloadable here (scroll down). 

Héctor, the Electric Kid
Book and Lyrics by Cornelia Cody (El Salvador/USA)
Directed by Mauricio Pita (Venezuela)
Music by Aldo Ortega

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Reggie D. White’s Fremont Ave. — now having its world premiere at Arena Stage in a co-production with South Coast Repertory — captures something rarely seen onstage: the shifting, tender, and turbulent bonds between Black men across generations.

The story unfolds over three acts that span six decades. In Act One (1968), George Plique (Bradley Gibson) falls in love with Audrey, a strong-willed housekeeper raising her son, Robert. In Act Two (1990s), George’s now-grown stepson Robert (Gibson) gathers with his friends Frank, Walter, and Tony for another of their legendary card games. And in Act Three (2020s), an older George and Robert reckon with their family legacies through Robert’s son, Joseph (Gibson again), who is gay, and Joseph’s lover, Damon, the son of Walter. (Gibson impressively plays three roles — George, Robert, and Joseph — across time.)

That simple throughline grounds a sprawling, funny, and emotionally raw play. White’s script is both wide-ranging and specific — rooted in the language, humor, and rituals that sustain Black male friendships even when words sting.

At its core, Fremont Ave. celebrates camaraderie: the card-table trash talk, the easy laughter, the enduring care that undergirds even the harshest arguments. The men call each other out, talk over one another, wound and forgive in a rhythm that feels lived-in. 

George anchors it all. Gibson gives him a disarming gentleness in 1968 as a young music therapist with creative dreams and an almost naive belief in love. His tentative romance with Audrey (Jerrika Hinton, sharp and unsentimental) sparks the play’s emotional foundation. Audrey is practical, bruised by life, and wary of being rescued. When she storms out after George confesses his love, we fear it’s over — but her eventual return, humbled and open, becomes the origin point for the Plique family saga.

Around them orbit Wildlin Pierrevil’s peacekeeping Frank, Jeffrey Rashad’s sensitive Tony, and Stanley Andrew Jackson’s swaggering Walter. They’re professionals — lawyers and executives — but their connection transcends class. Lili-Anne Brown’s deft direction keeps the banter fluid and musical, with card games that seem to dance through time.

By Act Two, the setting has shifted to the 1990s, and the ensemble shines as the generational baton passes. Gibson reappears as Robert, now part of the card-table circle. The script ripples with the rhythms of age and inheritance: who has lived up to his potential, who has disappointed himself, and who’s pretending not to care. André Pluess’s sound design bridges the eras with a buoyant soundtrack — from disco to R&B to house — anchoring the men’s evolution in a vivid cultural timeline.

The play’s final act, set in the 2020s, shifts in tone and focus yet again. Older George (Doug Brown) and Older Robert (Kevin Mambo) face the emotional reckonings that come with age, legacy, and regret. Meanwhile, Robert’s son, Joseph, struggles to live authentically with his partner, Damon (a magnetic Galen J. Williams), who bursts in with a flamboyant, Vogue-inspired energy. Their chemistry — equal parts tender and defiant — feels like the next frontier of the story’s long meditation on Black masculinity.

At times, Fremont Ave. teeters on sitcom territory — especially in its late-play humor and a jarringly timed sexual interlude — but White always brings the focus back to love and survival. The generational scope is ambitious, and though some transitions blur, the emotional throughline remains strong.

A weaker thread is the portrayal of Audrey, who sometimes reads as a one-dimensional scold before morphing into a sainted matriarch offstage. Still, Hinton grounds her in pain and pride, and costumer Jos N. Banks gives her later-life “church lady” looks a visual authority that matches her evolution.

Tim Mackabee’s versatile set, with its mid-century furniture and clean architectural lines, transforms elegantly across eras. Lighting designer Kathy A. Perkins moves the action fluidly through decades — sunlight slanting across those back windows in one act, dusky blues signaling reflection in another. Each element reinforces Brown’s rhythmic pacing and the play’s musical pulse.

If there’s one historical beat missing, it’s the larger turbulence of 1968. The assassination of Dr. King and the nationwide grief that followed go unmentioned — a surprising omission in a work so invested in the emotional lives of Black men. Even a brief reference might have contextualized the deep ache of Act One and the prideful optimism of the third-act Obama-era nod.

Still, the piece lands as a triumph of spirit. White’s script captures both the sacred and the ridiculous in male friendship. His characters fight, forgive, drink, flirt, and age together. The production’s scale — ten fully drawn roles, multiple timelines, and a livewire sense of humor — makes Fremont Ave. feel both intimate and operatic.

By the time the older men reflect on their lives, the laughter and music echo like old memories. What remains is the bond — the unbreakable brotherhood that endures through heartbreak, shifting norms, and decades of change. On the 30th anniversary of the 1995 Million Man March, Fremont Ave. feels not just timely but necessary: a jubilant, complicated love letter to the Black men who show up for one another, generation after generation.

Running Time: Two hours and 30 minutes, including one 15-minute intermission.

Fremont Ave. plays through November 23, 2025, in the Kreeger Theater at Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater, 1101 Sixth St SW, Washington, DC. Tickets ($49–$118) are available online or through TodayTix. Tickets may also be purchased through the Sales Office by phone at 202-488-3300, Tuesday through Sunday, 12-8 pm, or in person at 1101 Sixth Street SW, Washington, DC, Tuesday through Sunday, two hours before the show begins on performance days.

Arena Stage’s many savings programs include “pay your age” tickets for those aged 35 and under; military, first responder, and educator discounts; student discounts; and “Southwest Nights” for those living and working in the District’s Southwest neighborhood. To learn more, visit arenastage.org/savings-programs.

The program is online here.

Fremont Ave.
A Co-Production with South Coast Repertory
By Reggie D. White
Directed by Lili-Anne Brown

SEE ALSO:
Arena Stage announces cast and creative team for world premiere of ‘Fremont Ave.’ (news story, September 16, 2025)

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