Director Jacqueline Youm puts an indelible stamp on Silver Spring Stage’s scintillating modern-dress production of Jeffrey D. Hoeper’s lively translation of Molière’s Tartuffe. Under her direction, the ensemble maintains a consistently high level of physical acting that perfectly fits and defines the playwright’s exaggerated stock characters. 

Examples abound. The title character, con man Tartuffe (Mike Kroboth), is all slovenliness. His mark, Orgon (Joseph Coracle), is all quick, self-important movement, utterly convinced of the righteousness of his feelings and his right to tell family members what to do. Orgon’s mother, Madame Pernelle (Tracye Brewer), who is fooled by Tartuffe even longer than Orgon, dramatizes her will to family power by loudly snapping her fan. 

Orgon’s wife, Elmire (Erin Gallalee), is at her best when feigning attraction toward the lecherous Tartuffe, striking odalisque-like poses. One of the funniest moments in the show occurs when Elmire, sitting on a sofa, seductively flirts with Tartuffe, while repeatedly shooing her hot-tempered stepson, Damis (Joshua Prescott), back inside a door. The self-absorbed Tartuffe never notices.

Youm herself plays a key character, the all-knowing maid Dorine. It’s a perfect role for a director, since Dorine acts as a sort of director for many of the other characters. Her dominating physical presence emphasizes who, regardless of social class position, runs the show in Orgon’s household.

It seems odd to talk of Molière and Arthur Miller in the same paragraph, but the reasonable man character in Tartuffe, Cléante (Chevell Thomas), occupies a role analogous to Charley in Death of a Salesman or Alfieri in A View from the Bridge. Each speaks reason and moderation to a main character who is blinded by his passions, failing to sway the main character from his path to destruction. But for the intervention of Prince at the end of Tartuffe, Orgon would be as ruined as Eddie Carbone. Standing tall, Thomas portrays Cléante with dignity and gravitas.

The play’s script is written in rhymed couplets, which the actors handle with aplomb, keeping the verbal rhythm going fluidly even through the frequent physical hijinks. One good example is Cléante’s heroic-length first-act monologue: Dorine at one point brings out a lectern to help him continue. 

There is a romantic subplot involving Orgon’s daughter, Marianne (Syd Johnson), and her beau, Valère (Justin Meyer). The relationship is never fully developed in the script, serving mainly as a plot device as Orgon tries to make Marianne marry Tartuffe against her wishes. Marianne and Valère have one amusing romcom-like scene, in which they quarrel and Valère repeatedly leaves, turns around, and comes back.

Two minor characters deserve mention for their physical acting. Filpote (Meagan Hinton), Madam Pernelle’s maid, manifests in intentionally over-the-top form everything her mistress, or sometimes Tartuffe, says. Laurent (Maggie Murphy), Tartuffe’s uber-subservient servant, bows and scrapes obsequiously enough to qualify for a post in the Trump cabinet.

A major theme of the play, of course, is how easy it is for someone, despite all the evidence, to be taken in by a hypocritically pious poseur. Kroboth channels the Jimmy Swaggart type of religious charlatan, laid-on-thick Southern accent and all. 

Douglas Becker’s set creates a refined living space appropriate to Orgon’s wealth, with white sofas and a highly significant table on a black-and-white checkered floor. The walls are covered in anodyne art set in elegant black squares, just the sort of space that would invite the greed of a grifter. 

Olivia Binder’s costumes are as varied as the characters that wear them. Orgon is in a natty suit, Tartuffe in sloppy white pants and a sloppy white shirt, Elmire in a tight-fitting green dress, Valère in a preppyish sport coat. It makes for colorful stage pictures. Youm’s choices for pre-show and intermission music — mostly well-known classical pieces — did not seem particularly related to the action.

Youm’s precise blocking, with an assist from movement specialist Chelsea Dee and fight coordinator Julia Rabson Harris, kept the action crisp throughout. There was a delightful moment when almost all the characters got into a melee that almost, but not quite, involved them coming to blows.

This is a funny, well-paced production that does full credit to a theater classic, without a trace of the cobwebs that can sometimes encumber a production of a classic. It’s well worth seeing, a show that should attract attention at WATCH award time.

Running Time: Two hours and 20 minutes, including one intermission.

Tartuffe, or The Hypocrite plays through November 16, 2025 (Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00 pm and Sundays at 2:00 pm), at Silver Spring Stage, 10145 Colesville Road, Silver Spring, MD. Purchase tickets ($28; $25 for students and seniors) at the door, online, or by contacting the Box Office at boxoffice@ssstage.org or 301-593-6036.

Tartuffe, or The Hypocrite
By Molière
Directed by Jacqueline Youm

CAST
Syd Johnson: Marianne
Justin Meyer: Valère
Joshua Presscott: Damis
Erin Gallalee: Elmire
Chevell Thomas: Cléante
Mike Kroboth: Tartuffe
Tracye Brewer: Madame Pernelle
Joseph Coracle: Orgon
Zach Shields: M. Loyal
Jaylen Shode: Police officer
Megan Hinton: Flipote
Maggie Murphy: Laurent
Jacqueline Youm: Dorine

UNDERSTUDIES
Kimberly-Elise Recas: Dorine, Mariane, Flipote
Megan Hinton: Police officer, Elmire
Cristian Hernandez: M. Loyal, Laurent, M. Orgon, Tartuffe
Zach Shields: Valère, Damis
Maggie Murphy : Cléante, Mme Pernelle
Lillian Hall: Mariane

The post A scintillating modern-dress ‘Tartuffe’ at Silver Spring Stage appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

The centerpiece of Carl L. Williams’ Under a Cowboy Moon, now playing at the Vienna Theatre Company (VCT), is a cowboy poetry competition, a kind of poetry slam taking place in a small bar in a dried-up, dying, West Texas town.

Like perhaps many people who have lived primarily in urban, Eastern environments, I had no idea what cowboy poetry sounded like. Here’s an example, generated by ChatGPT:

Out where the sage and silence meet,
The prairie winds don’t miss a beat.
My boots are worn, my hat sits low,
Chasing the sun where wild herds go.

The campfire flickers, stars appear,
Coyotes singing where none can hear.
A lonesome tune, a life untamed,
A cowboy’s heart can’t be contained.

In depopulated Spitwhistle, Texas, the Saddle Horn Bar can attract only a handful of contestants. There’s the young Henry Burke (Jaye Frazier), a poetry rookie competing for the first time. Frazier’s Burke is appropriately insecure and callow. In counterpoint, Williams gives us Boone Hawkins (Raymond G. Gagliardi), a longtime veteran of the cowboy poetry world, who shows genuine kindness to Henry. I’d have liked Boone’s hair and makeup to be more suggestive of the older Willie Nelson, better to portray the character’s near-the-end-of-the-trail situation in life.

Then there’s Rafe Cainfield (Scott Stofkost), all ego and loudness, with nary a nuance in sight. He’s accompanied by his just-short-of-bimbo girlfriend, Terri Blair (Kim Paul), who by show’s end begins to get a clue about her boyfriend’s character.

The final contestant is Michael Tibbets (Chris Dockins), a UT Austin English professor who, under a pseudonym, visits the contest to analyze cowboy poetry. Excessively erudite and egregiously pretentious, Michael is a portrait of everything people love to hate about academia. Dockins does get one of the best comic bits of the evening, as Michael delivers a cowboy poetry adaptation of a portion of T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, with a hilarious reference to western novel writer Louis L’Amour.

While Michael’s English Department take on life may not cut much ice with the bar patrons, it does gain the attention of Rebecca Proctor (Janice Zuker), a PBS producer there to record the contest and interview the locals for a documentary. She hangs on Michael’s every word, and romantic attraction blooms. In her way, Rebecca is as much a satire on PBS documentarians as Michael is of humanities professors. Williams wrote the play in 2007; the notion of a PBS reporter showing up at a small town gathering today, let alone with a humanities grant in hand, has a considerably more ironic edge.

Jon Roberts makes an excellent impression as Simon Dawes, Rebecca’s cameraman, whose manner is more laconic than that of any of the cowboys, making occasional wry, often delightful, comments on the goings-on.

The bar owner, P.A. Carswell (Liz LeBoo), is a pillar of what remains of the community. LeBoo gives a grounded portrayal of someone whose dreams of the future have a low horizon: to go to Texarkana and work with her sister in a diner. Her life is in contrast to that of Jill Milligan (Shelby Kaplan), who is finishing up a business degree at UT, and who therefore has a chance of escaping small town topor.

P.A.’s former boyfriend, Deuce Whatley (Charlie Boone), a regular at the bar, still hopes to rekindle their romance. While Under a Cowboy Moon is not a romcom, Deuce and P.A. through most of the play have some of the bickering banter interaction typical of many romcom characters. They are the two characters who are most credible as people who have long lived in a place like Spitwhistle.

Director Jessie Roberts keeps the pace consistent and the movement clear. In this she is well aided by lighting designer Nicholas Boone, whose tight area lighting provides the equivalent of close-ups to, for example, two characters talking at a table while the other characters are in low light. Kudos to sound designer Myer Kim for selecting pre-show and intermission country music that is credible for the time and setting, rather than samples of the generic, and synthetic, Nashville sound. Carol Pappas’ costumes suit the characters well; one particularly nice example is Rafe’s outfit for the recital of his poem, every bit as showy as Rafe’s personality.

Its humor and local color notwithstanding, Under a Cowboy Moon is a rather melancholy play, portraying the long, slow decline of a way of life and a community. In this, it called to my mind the brilliantly written A Texas Trilogy by Preston Jones. These three 1970s plays take place in the West Texas town of Bradleyville, realized in far greater depth than Williams’ Spitwhistle. Theater groups would do well to revive any or all of Jones’ three plays, which provide roles that good actors would crave.

Running Time: One hour and 45 minutes, including one intermission.

Under a Cowboy Moon plays through November 2, 2025, presented by Vienna Theatre Company performing at Vienna Community Center, 120 Cherry St SE, Vienna, VA. Tickets, priced at $16, are available online or in person at the Vienna Community Center.

Note: The air conditioning (not under VCT’s control) can make conditions in the theater uncomfortably cold. It would be prudent to prepare accordingly.

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A sign adjacent to the box office at Silver Spring Stage proclaims “No Firearms or Weapons Allowed on Premises.” It’s a somewhat ironic introduction to the theater’s production of Stephanie Alison Walker’s 2019 play Friends with Guns, billed as a “provocative dark comedy” in which conflicts arise from neighbors’ clashing convictions on the vices or virtues of gun ownership.

While there are scattered comic moments in the production, the play is essentially a play of ideas within a domestic drama. The play begins with Shannon (Vanessa Markowitz), a frazzled mother of two young boys misbehaving in a park, delivering a monologue displaying her extreme level of anxiety. Leah (Ellen Schiavone), another mother of young children, encounters her. A peacemaker by nature, she comforts Shannon. They bond.

The two women and their husbands — Josh (Bri Caelleigh) and Danny (Smithchai Chutchainon), respectively — have much in common. They enjoy their neighborhood in Los Angeles, they share liberal political views (no Trump voters here), their kids get along well with each other. A dinner get-together goes swimmingly until Josh brings up his vigorous opposition to anyone or anything to do with guns. Danny and Leah, it turns out, have 11 guns in their garage. They are the most scrupulously responsible of gun owners. The guns are in a locked safe in a locked garage, stored separately from ammunition. Josh is horrified; their neighbors are “gun people”? It has not occurred to Shannon that nice people ever owned guns. The evening ends awkwardly.

Shannon remains drawn to Leah. They plan an outing, driving in a VW bus, delightfully realized in Sidriel Conerly’s set design by a representation of the front of the vehicle placed in front of a movable box that has several uses during the play. Shannon asks Leah why she wants to have guns. Leah responds with the highlight moment of the show, a long monologue, beautifully delivered by Schiavone, detailing a frightening experience in which two men tried to break into her apartment and the police did not come quickly. As Leah’s scene partner, Markowitz reacts with some of her best acting of the evening, as we see her beginning to understand and empathize with the roots of Leah’s thoughts and feelings.

The women visit Leah’s target shooting range, where Leah teaches Shannon how to shoot. For Shannon, the experience is exhilarating — “empowering,” to use a word from the script. She begins to find relief from her anxiety, subsequently enjoying a surfing turn in the ocean with Leah, despite her previous germaphobic aversion to the Southern California seas. Shannon’s character arc is the longest of any of the characters’, and Markowitz navigates the changes effectively.

Knowing Josh’s fixed opposition to guns, Shannon does not disclose her newfound interest in shooting to him. Josh and Danny have an extended debate on policy and constitutional issues. Josh cites studies showing that having guns in the home increases, rather than reduces, risks. Danny cites the Second Amendment (albeit without mention of that pesky “well-regulated militia” clause). Both are dug in ideologically, and their views remain as far apart as American society’s generally on the matter.

In the shortest role in the play, Danny, played as a pretty cool sort of guy, is primarily used as a foil to Josh’s arguments. But Chutchainon scores well on a key point, that as a person of color in America, Danny has reasons rooted in history to need to defend his family against whatever threats may come. Do we want only the right-wingers to have weapons?

For the women, guns offer a sense of protection too. They are tired of being afraid in terms of how they dress, where and when they walk, who may pose an unexpected danger to them. What we never learn from Walker’s script, however, is why Josh not only opposes guns in American society as a matter of policy, but why he is so deeply, at the emotional core of his being, incapable of dealing with anyone with different views. That mystery — no fault of Caelleigh — shrouds the motivation of the character.

In a press release, director Julia Rabson Harris said that there are “no bad guys” in the play. I’m not fully convinced. Seemingly depressed, drinking a bit much, hating his job, afraid of his wife distancing herself from him in favor of a new friend and set of interests, Josh becomes angrily controlling and even abusive toward Shannon. Contrasted with her growth and empowerment, Josh spirals downward toward bad-guy territory. I’d have liked the play to tell us more about where that comes from.

Conerly’s set realistically represents a suburban living room and patio, loomed over by a large gun range target upstage center. Don Slater’s lighting design distinguishes the different portions of the playing area well. Hamza Elnaggar’s sound design uses classic rock for pre-show and scene change music. I wished the amplification of the actors — notably Shannon’s initial monologue — had been less intense at times, and that the sound of the gunshots in the target range scene had been more realistically loud. Harris’s direction maintained a normal, everyday conversational pace throughout most of the show, appropriate to the situation and characters.

It’s not possible, of course, to view this show outside the context of an America beset with gun violence, whether daily acquaintance murders, political assassinations, school shootings, or Sunday morning’s attack on a Michigan church. In this context, I question the play’s theme of empowerment through firearms. The following lines from Sondheim’s Assassins came to mind:

And all you have to do is move your little finger
Move your little finger and
You can change the world
Why should you be blue
When you’ve your little finger?
Prove how just a little finger
Can change the world

How many people have there been, how many will there be — mostly not as suburban nice as the play’s characters — feeling powerless, scared, angry, desperately needing a moment of agency, ready to move their little fingers on one of the millions of triggers available to them?

Running Time: Two hours and 5minutes, including one intermission.

Friends with Guns plays through October 12, 2025 (Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00 pm and Sundays at 2:00 pm) at Silver Spring Stage, 10145 Colesville Road, Silver Spring, MD. Purchase tickets ($28; $25 for students and seniors) at the door, online, or by contacting the Box Office at boxoffice@ssstage.org or 301-593-6036.

Friends with Guns
By Stephanie Alison Walker
Directed by Julia Harris

CAST
Shannon: Vanessa Markowitz
Josh: Bri Caelleigh
Leah: Ellen Schiavone
Danny: Smithchai Chutchainon

The post Neighbors clash over firearms in ‘Friends With Guns’ at Silver Spring Stage appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

In their online videos discussing Merry Wives on Shakespeare Theatre Company’s website, playwright Jocelyn Bioh and director Taylor Reynolds speak of wanting to convey the “joy” and “vibrancy” of the varied African diaspora community in contemporary South Harlem. Bioh’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor hits those marks in every respect.

The vibrancy is striking even before the play begins, as the audience sees Lawrence E. Moten III’s multilevel set, depicting in loving detail the New York City block where the characters live and work: streetlights, fire escapes, apartment windows with colorful curtains, a subway entrance. Sound designer/composer Mikaai Sulaiman’s rich, lively, pre-show music sets the mood for the action to come. Then dancer/ensemble member Shaka Zu invites the audience into the community with his turn on a downstage drum.

The Shakespeare play, at least in some productions I have seen, can have a sharp, mean-spirited edge, playing as a comedy of revenge and humiliation. In Reynolds’ direction of Bioh’s adaptation, the tone is far warmer. The merry wives here — delightfully played by Felicia Curry, as Madam Nkechi Ford, and Oneika Phillips, as Madam Ekua Page — are having so much fun in their own lives that even the subjects of their pranks can ultimately appreciate the humor. As Mama Quickly, Kelli Blackwell is the community’s glue; nothing gets by her, and she has an often-gleeful hand in everything.

Most of the men are fools of one sort or another. The fool in chief, of course, is Falstaff (Jacob Ming-Trent), who, against all evidence and despite repeated reversals, insists on thinking himself not only clever but God’s gift to the ladies. His is the comedy of cluelessness. Ming-Trent’s most memorable moment comes when, having been dumped in the river in a laundry cart, Falstaff emerges bedraggled from a subway exit, bemoaning but not quite understanding what has befallen him.

Mister Nduka Ford (Nick Rashad-Burroughs) is unduly, and of course, unjustifiably, jealous concerning his wife, and the merry wives have plans for him as well. His funniest moments are when he appears in an absurd disguise as Brook, seeking to sniff out Falstaff’s designs on his wife. The self-absorbed Dr. Caius (Jordan Barbour), Pepé Le Pew–adjacent accent and all, seeks to marry the uninterested Anne Page (Peyton Rowe), daughter of Madam Page and her husband, Mister Kwame Page (JaBen Early), the play’s closest approach to a sensible man, who knows better than to be jealous of his wife.

Neither the Shakespeare original nor Bioh’s adaptation is a vehicle for subtlety or introspection. Under Reynolds’ fast-paced direction, the actors’ performances are large-scale and active, both physically and vocally, with moments of slapstick. Movement and dance are a major feature of the production (Ashleigh King was the choreographer), producing memorable moments. Curry’s solo dance in the laundromat is one, and the final scene in the park — where virtually the entire community, moving in spectacular traditional masks and costumes, confound Falstaff once more — is the theatrical highlight of the evening.

Ivania Stack’s costume designs are a marvel of color and flow, suiting the characters and the cultures from which they come. They can be stunningly beautiful, like Madam Page’s gown toward the end of the show, or sexy, or intentionally ridiculous, like Falstaff’s when he sets out on his foredoomed mission of seduction. One sweet exception to the overall exuberance of the design is Stack’s costuming for Fenton (Latoya Edwards), Anne Page’s true love. Fenton is a sincere, straightforward character, who, alone in the play, is neither the perpetrator nor the victim of pranks. Fittingly, her costumes are quieter than most. The costuming is far too varied and interesting to be described. It needs to be seen.

The vibrancy in the acting and physical production is remarkable. But it is the joy of the piece — “Black joy” as Reynolds calls it in her video, to be sure, but infectious joy to anyone who sees the show — that is paramount. It is the joy of people coming together in a community, embracing everyone, be they lovers or merry wives or fools. During a time — and a week — when we need all the joy and sense of community we can get, Merry Wives is a must-see highlight of the early DC theatrical season.

Running Time: One hour and 50 minutes, with no intermission.

Merry Wives plays through October 5, 2025, presented by the Shakespeare Theatre Company at Sidney Harman Hall, 610 F Street NW, Washington, DC. Tickets ($39 —$190) are available at the box office, online, by calling (202) 547-1122, or through TodayTix. Shakespeare Theatre Company offers discounts for military servicepeople, first responders, senior citizens, young people, and neighbors, as well as rush tickets. Contact the Box Office or visit Shakespearetheatre.org/tickets-and-events/special-offers/ for more information. Audio-described and captioned performances are also available.

The Asides program for Merry Wives is online here.

COVID Safety: All performances are mask-recommended. Read more about STC’s Health and Safety policies here.

Merry Wives
By William Shakespeare
Adapted by Jocelyn Bioh
Directed by Taylor Reynolds

SEE ALSO:
Shakespeare Theatre Company announces cast and creative team for ‘Merry Wives’ (news story, July 31, 2025)

The post STC’s vibrant and joyous comedy ‘Merry Wives’ is a must-see appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

For playwright Lisa Loomer, Side Effects May Include…, now playing as part of the Contemporary American Theater Festival (CATF), is a deeply personal project. In 2019, just as the COVID epidemic was about to begin, Loomer’s son developed a little known, but devastating, condition, akathisia. In 2021, Loomer wrote a lengthy article about her son’s experience with the condition and the infuriating struggle she had with the medical system in trying to get help for him. The play hews closely to the story she wrote.

Some background: Akathisia is clinically defined as “a neuropsychiatric syndrome and movement disorder that makes it difficult to sit or remain still due to an inner restlessness… A person with akathisia experiences an intense sensation of unease or an inner restlessness. This results in a compulsion to move… In most cases, the movement is repetitive. This uncontrollable need to move can cause extreme distress.”

“Extreme distress” hardly does justice to the experience of Gabriel, the play’s young man having to deal with akathisia. “Living in a scream” is how one character describes it. In her article, Loomer speaks of akathisia sufferers as feeling “like having your blood replaced with battery acid” or “like being burned alive in a locked coffin … like being violently tortured from the inside out.” It often leads to suicidal ideation, with which Gabriel contends in the play.

Gabriel’s mother (Liza Fernandez) says, from the beginning, that the play is Gabriel’s story. Much of the play, however, centers on his mother, who tells the story, often breaking the fourth wall to directly address the audience about events and what lies behind them. Except for a brief video, Gabriel (Micah Myers), who everyone talks about, does not himself appear on stage throughout most of the play.

Actress 1 (Sophie Zmorrod), Actress 2 (Susan Lynskey), and Male Actor 1 (Jimmy Kieffer) portray a wide variety of people with whom Gabriel’s mother interacts: her husband, a friend, and a bewildering array of doctors and other medical providers who frequently misdiagnose Gabriel, offer competing treatment ideas, and with one exception, fail to help him or make matters worse. Gabriel’s mother speaks of the situation being “Kafkaesque,” and the situation is one in which that frequently overused term fits all too well.

The actors playing multiple roles distinguish their various characters through a style of speaking, a minor costume change, or a tweak of hair design. When they are playing someone close to the mother — Kieffer as her husband, Lynskey as her best friend, Zmorrod as Gabriel’s girlfriend — they create believable and often sympathetic characters. When they portray doctors and others in the medical system, they provide brief sketches of often woefully dense cogs in an impersonal machine. Director Meredith McDonough maintains the clarity of the action through all the many changes and interactions.

Fernandez gives a stunning performance as the frightened, angry, loving, persistent parent who wants to fix her son, but finds only obstacles in the system. Helping her son in desperate circumstances upends her life and changes her relationships. In her determination to understand what is happening to Gabriel, she learns that akathisia can be triggered not only by antipsychotic medications but by widely prescribed medications for garden variety depression and anxiety, which Gabriel had been given.

Loomer invites the audience to consider a number of important questions. What is normal, and who gets to define it? When you can’t fix a problem for someone you love, how do you accompany them through what they’re experiencing? When is suffering drastic enough to justify suicide? It turns out that genetic testing could identify people who are particularly susceptible to developing akathisia. Why isn’t that something that the medical system and pharmaceutical industry require, as a matter of truly informed consent, before prescribing any medication whose side effects can include akathisia in such people? Fully informed consent, with respect to all side effects, is what Loomer and the play demand for all medications.

Loomer and Fernandez find moments to break the tension with humor. On one occasion, roughly midway through the play, Fernandez asks the audience to get up and stretch, explaining that it’s no longer possible to mount a two-act play in American theater.

Chelsea Warren’s set centers a screen for Mona Kasra’s projections, which form an important part of the storytelling. The remainder of the set consists of functional wooden frameworks on either side of the main playing area.

Gabriel insists that “I am not this injury. I will not let this injury define my life.” That is something with which I am sure Kevin Kling, in his current CATF play, and the generation of great disability activists who made the Americans with Disabilities Act a reality, would readily agree. Side Effects May Include… makes the point vividly.

Running Time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

Side Effects May Include… plays through August 3, 2025, presented by the Contemporary American Theater Festival performing at Studio 112, 92 West Campus Drive, on the campus of Shepherd University, Shepherdstown WV, in repertory with four other CATF plays. Times, dates, and ticketing information may be found on the CATF website or by calling the CATF box office at 681-240-2283.

Side Effects May Include…
By Lisa Loomer
Directed by Meredith McDonough

CAST
His Mother: Liza Fernandez*
Actress 1: Sophie Zmorrod*
Actress 2: Susan Lynskey*
Male Actor 1: Jimmy Keiffer*
Male Actor 2: Micah Meyers*

PRODUCTION TEAM
Scenic Design: Chelsea M. Warren**
Associate Scenic Design: Ruidi Yang
Costume Design: Kathleen Geldard**
Lighting Design: Mary Louise Geiger**
Sound Design: Christian Fredrickson**
Projections Design: Mona Kasra**
Production Stage Manager: Lindsay Eberly*
Assistant Stage Manager: Allie Blaylock
Casting: Pat McCorkle LTD.
Dramaturg: Tom Bryant
Vocal Coach: Kiristen Trump

*Actors’ Equity Association
**United Scenic Artists
***Stage Directors and Choreographers Society

SEE ALSO:
Contemporary American Theater Festival announces full 2025 lineup (news story, March 31, 2025)

The post ‘Side Effects May Include…’ at Contemporary American Theater Festival appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

Storyteller Kevin Kling gives a riveting performance of his own writing in Kevin Kling: Unraveled at the Contemporary American Theater Festival (CATF). Telling stories from his own life, he then takes the audience with him as he reflects on their meaning.

His stories are by turns funny and sad and frightening and hopeful. There’s Kling, as a very small young child, trying to escape from a medical facility that scares him. He has an unexpected moment of glory in Little League. He flies with his father in an experimental aircraft. Hit by lightning in a Minnesota thunderstorm, he learns that getting hit by lightning is something of a family tradition. He has a tender junior high school crush on the lovely girl sitting in front of him. Visiting Czechoslovakia with a theater company in the waning days of Soviet control, he meets with dissidents, performing his own play that had been banned from the tour, then learns a surprising fact about why it had been banned and by whom.

Kling is a person with a disability, the result of a congenital condition in one arm and the effects of a motorcycle accident on the other. The crash, the effects of painkillers during his hospitalization, and the multiple surgeries that followed, is one of the central stories of the latter part of the show. How having a disability affects his life, the way he looks at the world, and how people look at him is one of the show’s major themes.

He earned a hearty laugh from the audience with wordplay, musing on how the sounds of the word “catechism” made him think of a combination of “cata” (from “catacombs”) and the “ism” from “hypnotism.” At other times, he delivers what it is fair to call poetic prose as he talks about what means most to him. He seamlessly integrates the words and thoughts of other writers, from Rumi to David Bowie to Shakespeare (e.g., you don’t want to deal with issues in your life by becoming Richard III).

Musician Rob Witmer ably assists Kling, playing keyboard, accordion, and recorder to accompany or interact with Kling’s stories. Witmer also joins Kling in a few of the sequences, such as being Kling’s less than supportive Little League coach or joining Kling in a rendition of David Bowie’s “Heroes” near the end of the show.

David M. Barber’s scenic design centers on a large, almost-symmetrical line drawing of a sphere, with physical lines emanating from its center out into the ceiling of the house. Other items on the set — a family photo, a portrait of Richard III, a toy wiener dog — serve as reference points during parts of Kling’s stories. The floorboards — in shades of brown and tan accented by blue — meet on diagonals. The set not only is visually arresting but, in a nonliteral way, frames Kling’s theme of connection in people’s lives.

In delivering his stories, Kling not only illustrates the importance of connection but forms a connection with the audience in an emotionally compelling way. There’s a sense in which the use of the word “unraveled” in the show’s title is not quite on point. What Kling has to say is much less about how people may come undone than it is about how Kling, and by extension all of us, can use stories to become fully integrated as who we are. Telling stories is at the heart of how our species makes meanings in the events of our lives, and it would be hard for anyone to do it better than Kling.

Running Time: 80 minutes with no intermission.

Kevin Kling: Unraveled plays through August 3, 2025, presented by the Contemporary American Theater Festival performing at the Marinoff Theater, 62 West Campus Drive, on the campus of Shepherd University, Shepherdstown WV, in repertory with four other CATF plays. Times, dates, and ticketing information may be found on the CATF website or by calling the CATF box office at 681-240-2283.

Kevin Kling: Unraveled
A World Premiere
By Kevin Kling
Directed by Steven Dietz

CAST
Self: Kevin Kling*
Musician: Robertson Witmer

PRODUCTION TEAM
Scenic Design: David M. Barber**
Costume Design: Peggy McKowen**
Lighting Design: Harold F. Burgess II**
Sound Design: Robertson Witmer**
Stage Manager: Deb Acquavella*
Dramaturg: Allison Backus

*Actors’ Equity Association
**United Scenic Artists
***Stage Directors and Choreographers Society

SEE ALSO:
Contemporary American Theater Festival announces full 2025 lineup (news story, March 31, 2025)

The post ‘Kevin Kling: Unraveled’ at Contemporary American Theater Festival appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

Keegan Theatre’s revival of William Finn’s multiple Tony Award—winning Falsettos leaves no doubt about why the show is among the most beloved musicals of recent decades. Its combination of cleverness, complexity, and heart makes it irresistible.

Its complexity exists on more than one level. Much of Finn’s score involves rapid-fire musical patter interchanges among the characters. The music is vocally demanding, and the timing needs to be perfect among the actors, who never miss a beat. The movement — director Kurt Boehm doubled as choreographer — is just as active and just as precise, giving the production unstinting energy. The Marvin/Whizzer racquetball game in the second act is a particularly nice set piece, and the many ensemble numbers are as expertly executed in terms of blocking and choreography as they are musically.

The show’s center is its emotional complexity. As Trina (Katie McManus) comments at one point, attending her son’s Little League game with her ex-husband and his ex-lover was not something she would have imagined. McManus is a standout in Keegan’s top-notch cast, with her spectacular “I’m Breaking Down” bringing down the house in the first act. She expresses the difficulty of “holding the ground when the ground keeps shifting” in an equally compelling second-act song. I trust the Helen Hayes judges will be watching.

Marvin (John Loughney) left Trina and their son, Jason (Nico Cabrera), to be with his boyfriend, Whizzer (Kaylen Morgan). Marvin is emotionally volatile and conflicted — he’s called a “maniac” more than once in the script — wanting the passion of first love with Whizzer while keeping close ties with his family. He and Whizzer have a competitive relationship — fighting is their love language, it seems. Their relationship severs by the end of the first act.

Meanwhile, Marvin’s psychiatrist, Mendel (Ryan Burke), comes to love Trina, asking her to marry him with sweet awkwardness (“A Marriage Proposal”). They do marry, and Mendel plays an increasing role in raising Jason, while Marvin retains an important presence in the boy’s life, underlined in the gentle “Father to Son” moment that concludes the first act.

Jason is very much a kid, wondering if he is genetically predisposed to be homosexual, struggling with baseball, playing solitaire chess, and being buffeted by the conflicts and anxieties of the adults around him. He has an instinctive talent for connecting people, encouraging Marvin to propose to Trina. In Act Two, he brings Whizzer back into Marvin’s life and then finally, and most profoundly, decides to hold his bar mitzvah in Whizzer’s hospital room, bringing the whole extended family together in the hardest of times. Cabrera gets the confusion of a pre-teen boy and his growth into a caring young man.

The Jewishness of most of the characters is an important element of the story, with Marvin, Whizzer, Mendel, and Jason singing the comical “Four Jews Bitching” to open the show. The chaotic preparations for Jason’s bar mitzvah are a key plot element in Act Two. Above all, there is dedication to maintaining family ties, no matter what unexpected changes take place.

Act Two, set in 1981, two years after the first act, introduces two new characters, a lesbian couple, Dr. Charlotte (Shayla Lowe) and Cordelia (Kylie Clare Truby), the latter a shiksa caterer whose hors d’oeuvres leave something to be desired. It is Dr. Charlotte who first becomes aware that “Something Bad Is Happening,” as cases of what would later be called AIDS begin to appear.

In Act Two, Marvin and Whizzer reunite, with Marvin having grown into a man capable of genuine love, tenderly expressed in “What More Can I Say?” as he holds his sleeping partner. But the epidemic is spreading, and Whizzer falls ill. Some of Morgan’s best work occurs as Whizzer is hospitalized, showing Whizzer’s shining spirit even as his body weakens (“You Gotta Die Sometime”). The characters become closer as Whizzer’s condition worsens, as Marvin, Whizzer, Dr. Charlotte, and Cordelia cling to one another in “Unlikely Lovers.”

What do you do with the deepest feelings of loss and grief? There’s no answer, really, except to keep close to the people who matter to you. The final scene of the show, in which the other characters mourn Whizzer, is the one point where I wish Boehm — whose direction is as specific and on point as one could ask for — had made a different choice. We see three pairs of characters spaced apart from each other on the stage, grieving separately. Better, in my view, to have all six holding one another in a single grouping, underlining the theme of coming together as family and community in a time of trouble, as was done in the 2016 New York revival broadcast on PBS.

The technical side of the production is as complex as the material itself. Matthew J. Keenan designed a versatile multilevel set. Boehm takes full advantage of the space, and the scene changes are smooth, never detracting from the show’s pace. The lighting design (Lynn Joslin) is varied and as precise as the show’s other elements, with cues often tied to specific lines or actions (e.g., a brief, stark light change when Marvin slaps Trina). The tiny band, led by Elisa Rosman, handled well both the fast-paced and lyrical portions of Finn’s score.

The costumes are delightful. Paris Franscesa, for example, delineates Whizzer’s and Marvin’s characters by giving the former very stylish outfits and the latter an informal, pulled-out-of-closet look. Colors abound. The workout clothes for Mendel and Trina in Act Two are a hoot. There are subtle changes in dress as the show proceeds, for example in Jason’s outfits as he begins to mature. There were some opening night issues with sound, notably an overly high volume level for the singers and especially the keyboard in the first act. This seemed to be largely corrected for Act Two, however.

Keegan’s Falsettos is fun and sad. For one who lived through the height of the AIDS epidemic, losing some friends in the process, the second act strongly evoked the feelings of that time — the fear and grief and anger and the tenderness of those caring for loved ones. This production comes at a time when other challenges call for people to come together and care for one another. It was a fine kickoff for DC-area theaters’ observance of WorldPride.

Running Time: Two and a half hours, including one intermission.

Falsettos plays through June 15, 2025, at The Keegan Theatre, 1742 Church St NW, Washington, DC. Performances are Thursdays to Saturdays at 8:00 pm, Sundays at 3:00 pm, and select Mondays and Wednesdays at 8:00 pm. Tickets are $64 ($54 for seniors and students) and available online.

Falsettos
Music & Lyrics by William Finn
Book by William Finn & James Lapine
Director & Choreographer: Kurt Boehm
Music Director: Elisa Rosman

SEE ALSO:
Keegan Theatre announces cast and creative team for ‘Falsettos’ (news story, April 30, 2025)

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“Loving versus Virginia. So beautiful, it’s a song.” So sings ACLU lawyer Bernard Cohen (Troy Cook) when he first hears of a case challenging Virginia’s statutory prohibition of interracial marriage. Virginia Opera’s world premiere of Loving v. Virginia, by Damien Geter (music) and Jessica Murphy Moo (libretto), celebrates the love of a white man, Richard Loving (Jonathan Michie), and a Negro woman, Mildred Jeter Loving (Flora Hawk), and their fight to live their married life free from legal interference.

In 1958, Virginia was not for these lovers. Virginia law said both that an interracial marriage was void and that a couple who left the state to get married and returned to Virginia committed a felony. Having married in Washington, DC, and returned to their home in Caroline County, Virginia, the Lovings placed themselves in legal jeopardy. In a harrowing scene — one with all too much contemporary resonance — the police break into the couple’s bedroom at 2 a.m. and cart them off to jail. The court then banished them from the state, and their home, for 25 years.

The writers had the task of intertwining the deeply personal stories of Richard and Mildred and their families and the legal process that led to the landmark 1967 Supreme Court decision bearing their name. They, and director Denyce Graves-Montgomery, chose an interesting staging device to help tell the legal story. A “law chorus” of several identically clad ensemble members symbolized the impersonal demands of the legal system, most effectively when the group, with undulating movements, surrounds Mildred when she is jailed for the crime of living with her husband. Geter’s scoring for the law chorus, and for the scenes in which the Lovings are brought into the local court, emphasizes rat-a-tat Morse code–like motifs, punctuated by loud gavel bangs.

In contrast, the music for Richard and Mildred is far more lyrical, focusing on their love for each other and their longing to be home in their own place. Michie and Hawk sang strongly and beautifully while exploring their characters’ responses to the joys and difficulties of their lives. Richard is the picture of a man deeply rooted in the traditional role of protecting and providing for his family. Geter’s music, and Michie’s performance of it, paint a searing picture of Richard’s frustration at his powerlessness to do so. The music makes articulate the feelings of someone who is explicitly a man of few words.

Whether despairing while imprisoned, finding her own voice while writing to the Attorney General and the ACLU, or in loving her husband and children, Hawk just as effectively portrays her character as a woman who, above all, wants to be home with her family. Neither she nor Richard set out to be an activist or civil rights pioneer. Their perseverance made them the instrument of a major positive change in American law.

ACLU lawyer Philip Hirschkop (Christian Sanders) and his co-counsel Bernard Cohen show the passion and intellectual rigor — and even the sense of fun — of appellate advocates for their cause, while not neglecting to care for their clients who must endure years of the glacial pace of the legal system. The rather truncated capsule of their arguments before the Supreme Court is written in the fashion of high drama, perhaps inevitable in an operatic treatment of what, in reality, had a much more conversational tone before a clearly supportive court. (An audio recording of the argument is available online.) In a grace note for Saturday’s performance, Hirschkop, who will turn 89 next week, was in attendance.

The opera features a number of well-conceived and well-sung supporting roles, including Melody Wilson and Phillip Bullock as Mildred’s parents, Alissa Anderson as Richard’s mother, and Benjamin Werley as a racist sheriff and judge. This is a strong chorus show, and the large ensemble is very effective whether as the Lovings’ Caroline County community, a regimented set of clerks granting or refusing marriage licenses, or Richard’s fellow bricklayers on a project in DC during the couple’s exile there. The Richmond Symphony, under the direction of Adam Turner, was excellent in its playing of the highly varied requirements of Geter’s score.

Virginia Opera performs in Norfolk, Fairfax, and Richmond in consecutive weekends, which limits what designers can do with sets. For Loving, Mikiko Suzuki MacAdams used backdrops depicting a bucolic field in Caroline County and a street in downtown DC, groups of risers that represented a motor race grandstand and courthouse scenes, and a variety of small set pieces wheeled or pushed on and off stage (e.g., for the Lovings’ home or the ACLU office). This resulted in some laborious scene changes that slowed the production’s pace on a few occasions. Aside from the gray suits and masks of the law chorus, costume designer Jessica Jahn effectively dressed the cast in realistic period outfits.

The Supreme Court decision that freed the Lovings to return home was unanimous. The legal issues involved are far from over, however. In a thoroughly researched 2014 Boston College Law Review article, Christopher R. Leslie argued that Justice Samuel Alito’s dissent in a key 2013 gay marriage case, Windsor v. United States, effectively embraced the arguments made by Virginia in the Loving case. Had Alito been a member of the Court in 1967, Leslie persuasively contended, he could not — consistent with the views he expressed in Windsor — have joined the Court’s decision.

By showing what legal constraints on the lives and families of disfavored minorities mean in human terms, through the emotionally compelling medium of opera, the creators and performers of Loving v. Virginia not only delivered a touching love story and a powerful history lesson but also offered a cautionary note about the continuing presence of societal bias and legal thinking that would deprive loving couples of their ability to make a peaceful home together.

Running Time: Approximately two and a half hours, including one intermission.

Loving v. Virginia played on May 3 and 4, 2025, presented by Virginia Opera and Richmond Symphony performing at the Center for the Arts at George Mason University, 4373 Mason Pond Dr, Fairfax, VA.

The program for Loving v. Virginia is online here.

Loving v. Virginia
Music by Damien Geter
Libretto by Jessica Murphy Moo
Directed by Denyce Graves-Montgomery
Commissioned by Virginia Opera and Richmond Symphony
In partnership with the Institute of Contemporary Art at Virginia Commonwealth University
Co-produced by Virginia Opera and Minnesota Opera

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It was outrageous, offensive, and insulting, not to mention over-the-top silly, and I loved every minute of it. Reston Community Players has mounted a brilliant, uproariously funny, and intricately detailed production of Mel Brooks’ The Producers. It’s a must-see event on your local theater calendar, many aspects of which I fully expect to show up at the next Watch Awards.

The plot outline is by now well-known. Formerly successful producer, now flop-meister, Max Bialystock (Stephen Yednock) is desperate, reduced to schtupping old ladies to raise funds for his next show. Enter highly nervous accountant Leo Bloom (Jonathan Grygiel), whose life ambition is to become — wait for it — a Broadway producer.

Leo has a brainstorm: if you play it right and keep two sets of books, a flop can make more easy money than a hit. So he and Max set out to find the world’s worst play, hitting upon Springtime for Hitler, by pigeon-fancying neo-Nazi Franz Liebkind (Steve Cairns). After enlisting uber-gay, gloriously incompetent director Roger DeBris (Adam Gurson), they open the show. To their dismay and legal peril, the show is a surprise smash.

Getting there is where the fun occurs. The path to show business perdition is paved with one spectacular production number after another. There’s “I Wanna Be a Producer,” as Leo and the ensemble manifest his theatrical dreams. Roger and his flamboyant entourage take over the stage in “Keep It Gay.” The first act finale, “Along Came Bialy,” features a group of randy old ladies, tapping their walkers in time to the music. And to top it all, the now-iconic “Springtime for Hitler” shows the happy, tap-dancing delight of celebrating the Third Reich.

The choreography (Jolene Vettese) is lively, precise, well-executed, and a delight to the eye throughout, whether in the large ensemble pieces or smaller numbers like “Der Guten Tag Hop-Clop” featuring Franz, Leo, and Max, or “It’s Bad Luck to Say Good Luck on Openin’ Night,” involving Leo, Roger, his assistant Carmen Ghia (Connor Myrna), and Franz. Not even a romantic moment can escape the show’s comic movement. “That Face” shows Leo and Ulla, a Swedish bombshell he adores (Andie Matten), mostly hidden behind an office sofa, with arms and legs rising and falling out of sight as their fun proceeds.

There isn’t a weak link anywhere in the cast. Yednock’s Max is, as he needs to be, bombastically larger than life, with a bit of a Zero Mostel vibe. The strength of his voice, already evident in his first-act numbers, is tested in the marathon of “Betrayed” in Act 2. He aces the test. Leo has the widest character arc in the show. Grygiel gets Leo’s initial scaredy-cat persona, his ambition, his growing self-confidence, his falling for Ulla, and his ultimate bond with Max. He displayed the vocal and movement skills needed to shine in all parts of the role.

If I had to pick out an audience favorite in this stellar cast, it would be Cairns’ Franz, who came close to stealing the show more than once. As Ulla, Matten was a winning combination of sexy, sweet, and competent, and sang well in her belt number, “If You’ve Got It, Flaunt It,” as well in the romantic “That Face.” As Roger, Gurson took gay stereotypes to a new level, as well as portraying a very relatable Fuhrer in “Springtime for Hitler.”

The depth of RCP’s cast is evident in the smaller roles played by members of the ensemble. Examples include the first of Max’s old ladies we see, Hold-Me-Touch-Me (Marrisa Q. Dolcich); Mr. Marks (Jeffrey Mouritzen), Leo‘s unpleasant accounting firm boss; and the Lead Stormtrooper (Christian Rogers), whose tenor solo leads off “Springtime for Hitler.” Virtually all the members of the ensemble have individual bits; they all work.

Brooks’ script builds to its peak in “Springtime for Hitler.” The rest of the second act, while well enough written and well performed here, is intrinsically anticlimactic, with Leo’s final reconciliation with Max having a sentimental tone somewhat at odds with much of the rest of the play.

The technical side of the production is every bit as strong as its cast. Set designers Dan and Sheila Widerski created a multi-set masterpiece, taking full advantage of the theater’s fly space in depicting various locales, as well as a variety of pieces that move smoothly in and out, my favorite being Franz’s pigeon coop (complete with moving pigeons). One lovely touch was providing two versions of Max’s office walls, the first looking rather disorganized and down-at-the-heels, the second in neat neutral tan after Ulla has tidied it up and painted. (Max asks her when she did it. “Intermission,” she replies. This, like all the jokes in the show, lands with perfect timing. The setting for “Springtime for Hitler,” with its swastika-laden red banners, made a picture that Leni Riefenstahl would have loved to take.

The lighting design (Ken and Patti Crowley) made effective use of area lighting, specials, and dual follow spots. A nice moment for the sound design (Elizabeth Shaher) came when Franz, disgruntled with the way his play was adapted, comes in shooting. The gunshot effects were perfectly timed with his trigger pulls, even down to a misfire when he pulls the trigger without effect.

The show involves a multitude of costume changes, especially for the ensemble, for example as old ladies, showgirls, Nazis, accountants, or members of Roger’s gay household. In the design by Lori Crockett and Lisa Leary, the principals get distinctive outfits as well. Max’s baggy suit contrasts with Leo’s neat one. Franz is equipped with camo lederhosen. Roger first appears in a flowing black gown. Ulla gets stunning white and red dresses. Wigs (Sue Pinkman) and other headgear are prominent as well, with Roger’s Chrysler Building headpiece getting its own round of applause.

Under Andrew JM Regiec’s direction, every movement, every detail, is intentional and specific. Clarity is a byword in this production, which flows smoothly and quickly, notwithstanding the show’s overall scale and length.

One of the things that has made The Producers as funny as it has been to its audiences since the original movie came out in 1967 is that it was created at a time when the Nazi era was securely in our rearview mirror, making it safe to laugh at its absurdities. With homegrown fascism resurgent, the humor lands a little less comfortably today. That said, this is a marvelous production that allows the audience, as Regiec comments in his program note, to “sit back, relax, and enjoy a few hours of unfiltered, laugh-out-loud entertainment.”

Running Time: Three hours and 5 minutes, including one intermission.

The Producers plays through May 10, 2025, presented by Reston Community Players performing at the Reston Community Center, 2310 Colts Neck Road, Hunters Woods Plaza, Reston, VA. Tickets ($25–$30) are available online.

The playbill for The Producers is downloadable here.

The Producers
A Mel Brooks Musical
Book by Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan
Music and Lyrics by Mel Brooks
Produced by Eileen Mullee
Directed by Andrew JM Regiec
Musical Direction by Mark V. Deal
Choreography by Jolene Vettese

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Stuck. Stuck on a small fishing boat with a malfunctioning outboard motor in the shallows of the Gulf of Mexico (that’s right, Mexico). Stuck in an intense, fraught relationship. Stuck in low-end jobs in the Alabama Delta country. In Audrey Cefaly’s The Gulf, now playing at the Nova Nightsky Theater, Kendra (Hannah Ruth Blackwell) and Betty (Sarah Baczewski) confront the implications of being unable to move.

The metaphorical gulf between them is evident from the outset. Betty is chatty, going on about a local lady and her 15 cats. She overshares. She seeks change. She dreams of attending a junior college 100 miles away, wanting more than the life of a small-town bartender. She doesn’t fish; she thinks tenderly about a fish heart that keeps beating after being cut out of the fish.

Kendra is taciturn, emotionally muted, matter-of-fact, setting about the practical business of catching, cleaning, and eating fish. She often enough tunes out her partner, bristling at Betty’s forays into self-improvement, skeptical of Betty’s notion that she might have a future as something other than a sewage plant worker. She resists change, not wanting to leave the life she has. She doesn’t read.

They are literally in the same boat, in Steph Blackwell’s set design, the well-constructed and delightfully named “Bridget’s Folly” (a nod to Talley’s Folly?). It’s not a comfortable place. In director Elyse R. Smith’s tight direction of the play, the characters are often at opposite ends of the boat. And the boat isn’t going anywhere. The ambient sound design (Smith, Adam Ressa, and Nate Eagle), quiet and pervasive, provides a contrast to the more turbulent emotions of the characters.

Betty and Kendra became powerfully attracted to each other at first sight, their moments of tenderness now adrift in a sea of anger, silences, betrayals, and cross-purposes. In talking about her play, Cefaly said what she wants to ask of the characters is, “How did you get so stuck…[and] what is the full cost of leaving?” Those are as much questions for the audience as they are for the characters.

Cefaly added, “When we love fully, we lose a part of ourselves. The Gulf leaves us wanting for Kendra and Betty what we want in our own lives. To find a way forward. To be understood. To “win.” So, perhaps Betty will find her freedom. And perhaps Kendra will find her moment of peace. Together or apart. They keep trying and the heart keeps beating.”

The characters’ ingrained responses to what frightens them make their longings difficult, if not impossible, to realize within their relationship. Yet here they are, still together/separate in a small boat.

In the intimate performance space that is one of Nova Nightsky’s strengths, Blackwell and Baczewski bring the details of their characters vividly to life, up close and personal. Theater doesn’t get more real, or complex characters more believable, than this.

One of the strengths of Cefaly’s script is that she avoids any tidy resolution, leaving her characters in the midst of their lives. A favorite line from Company comes to mind: “You always are/What you always were/Which has nothing to do with/All to do with her.”

Running Time: Approximately 75 minutes, with no intermission.

The Gulf plays through April 19, 2025, presented by NOVA Nightsky Theater performing at Falls Church Presbyterian Church, located at 225 E Broad St, Falls Church, VA. Tickets ($28, with a $0.70 service fee for General Admission) are available for purchase at the door or online.

The program is downloadable here.

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Set in a present-day New Orleans bar, the Little Theatre of Alexandria (LTA) production of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, directed by Joey Pierce, establishes and maintains an energetic, broadly comic pace and tone.

The witty, wisecracking relationship of Beatrice (Jess Rawls) and Benedick (Seth Rue) — the prototype of untold numbers of romcoms about bickering couples who eventually get around to confessing true love — is central to the play. Rue, a skilled physical actor, shines in the movement and slapstick aspects of his characterization. He delivers his lines fluidly and with great clarity, particularly in Benedick’s more reflective moments.

Rawls’ Beatrice is a woman with a passionate heart, not only in ultimately giving her love to Benedick but in defending her wronged friend, Hero. She is not someone for half-measures. It is fair to say that she is the emotional center of the production.

Throughout most of the play, Amelia Jacquat’s Hero is effervescent, physically and vocally. When Claudio (Smithchai Chutchainon) unjustly rejects and shames her at their wedding, her trauma and physical breakdown are therefore all the more convincing, making for the outstanding acting moment of the show.

The energy in the relationship between Hero and Claudio was uneven, with Claudio seeming somewhat passive, all too readily acted upon, whether by Don Pedro (Michael McGovern), who woos Hero in his stead, or Don John (Zachary Litwiller), who convinces him that Hero is unfaithful. That Don Pedro and Claudio so rapidly fall for Don John’s chicanery feels less believable in contemporary Louisiana than it might have in 16th-century Messina.

Given the modern setting of the production, Claudio, Benedick, and Don Pedro are a trio of bros, with Don Pedro being the alpha, his active physicality and personality commanding their scenes. Don John delivers his lines with a flat affect and minimal physical interaction with other characters. In this interpretation, it may be that a major source of Don John’s villainy is depression, with a whiff of incel enviousness.

Much Ado is very much an ensemble show, and the depth of LTA’s cast is impressive. Among several other fine performances, Paul Brewster’s Leonato stands out as the adult in the room, wise, protective, and forgiving. As Dogberry, Jeff Elmore is appropriately goofy, though at times the thick Southern accent he was given got in the way of some of the character’s famous malapropisms. (In this New Orleans, apparently, only lower-class characters have Southern accents.)

As one of the best-resourced community theaters in the area, LTA can be counted upon for excellent physical productions, and Much Ado is no exception. Julie Fischer’s two-level set is delightful to look at, with the ironwork on the balcony providing a good NOLA touch and smoothly functional as well. The active, multicolored lighting design (Jeffrey Auerbach and Kimberly Crago) matches well the locale and pace of the action. Night scenes are lit convincingly, and specials highlight actors giving monologues.

With a large cast and multiple costume changes for many of the actors, designer Joan Lawrence and the wardrobe crew had a busy time of it. Whether camo uniforms for the bros, sexy purple for many of the women, a short-skirted wedding gown for Hero, formal wear in the wedding and funeral scenes, and often more informal garb for Beatrice, the costuming was both visually arresting and suitable to the characters.

Beyond the pre-show hot jazz selections, and a brief appearance of “When the Saints,” there is little in the production to suggest a New Orleans soundscape. The show does include a few songs, but they were not rendered in a jazzy style. Melissa Dunlap’s choreography featured a couple line dance sequences and some sweet partner dancing and solo turns, notably from Claudio at the end of the show.

The production consistently followed the director’s concept for the show and, in the process, proved a real audience-pleaser to the opening night crowd.

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

Much Ado About Nothing plays through April 19, 2025 (Thursdays–Saturdays at 8 pm, Sunday matinees at 2 pm), at The Little Theatre of Alexandria, 600 Wolfe Street, Alexandria, VA. To purchase tickets ($26, reserved seating), go online or contact the Box Office via phone (703-683-0496) or email (boxoffice@thelittletheatre.com).

The program for Much Ado About Nothing is downloadable here.

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At a “sneak peek” event in its home in Shepherdstown, West Virginia, on March 26, the Contemporary American Theater Festival (CATF) announced its summer program of five new plays, all world premieres.

No less important than the announcement of the plays themselves was CATF’s statement about how the Festival intends to respond to the time in which we are living, when free expression is under unprecedented threat. “Fearless stories matter,” CATF proclaimed. “We choose to uplift our values of creating fearless art, telling diverse stories, serving our communities, and welcoming an inclusive family to our new play experience,” notwithstanding “censorship and oppression.”

CATF’s season, running from July 11 to August 3, 2025, is highly varied. Did My Grandfather Kill My Grandfather?, by Cody LeRoy Wilson, is a first-person story of a Vietnamese American exploring his family’s history and his own identity. Happy Fall: A Queer Stunt Spectacular, by Lisa Sanaye Dring, uses a combination of stunts, video, puppetry, and cinematic illusion to tell the story of two queer Hollywood stuntmen in love.

Mark St. Germain, whose Holocaust monologue, The Happiest Man on Earth, was a highlight of last year’s CATF season, offers Magdalene, imagining Peter reconnecting with Mary Magdalene, exploring their different recollections of Jesus 18 years after the crucifixion. Another sort of faith features in Lisa Loomer’s Side Effects May Include…, the side effects in question being those of over-reliance on psychiatric medications.

Storytelling takes center stage in Kevin Kling: Unraveled. Kling appeared by video to talk about his background as a person with a disability and the storytelling, theater, and music hybrid (with musician Rob Whitmer) he has constructed for the show.

CATF has been performing its high-quality professional productions for three decades in Shepherdstown, a culturally lively town a one-and-a-half drive from Washington, DC. More information and tickets for the upcoming season are available online at catf.org or by phone at 681-240-2283.

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