Not often in American theater — or not often enough — does a play come along like Chess Jakobs’ The American Five, now premiering at Ford’s. In dramatizing the making of a momentous mobilization for social justice (the 1963 March on Washington, during which Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his historic “I Have a Dream” speech), Jakobs’ powerfully crafted play has the effect of galvanizing in its audience a response that is itself a catalyst for activism for hope and change. In rousing resistance to injustice and inspiring cohesion and connection, the play is a triumph of doing what it’s about.

History looms over the stage in a panoply of period photos and protest posters from the March. (Mona Kasra’s astonishing documentary projection designs will continue to set and inform the scene as the time shifts between 1952 and 1963. Throughout, a replica pillar from the Lincoln Memorial stands centerstage flyspace-high, as if to remind us that what we are witnessing is monumental.)

The script is tight and the storytelling is gripping. It begins with a prologue in a hotel room early morning on the day of the March. (Scenic designer Andrew Cohen and lighting designer Max Doolittle create a succession of places beneath the shifting projections using simple set pieces and scene changes so swift we hardly notice.) Four of the titular Five — Martin Luther King Jr. (Ro Boddie), Coretta Scott King (Renea S. Brown), Bayard Rustin (Stephen Conrad Moore), and Clarence Jones (Yao Dogbe) — are still hashing out the text of Martin’s speech, and it’s not there yet.

Flashback to 1952, when Martin and Coretta met in their twenties and their lifelong bond began. Ro Boddie and Renea S. Brown seem born to play these two roles; their chemistry is incandescent. When in the middle of their courtship, Martin says to Coretta, “I can see you speaking for me when I can’t speak for myself…,” it’s one of many moments in the script when emotion leaps beyond the lines.

In subsequent scenes, we meet the other three members of the American Five who will together, by the end of Act One, become the family that collaborated to make the March.

We see Bayard Rustin give Martin a lesson in nonviolence (Martin, who wanted to keep his gun, needed persuading). It was Bayard who first conceived the March. Stephen Conrad Moore’s performance in the role — with authority, tact, and conviction, particularly when owning and defending Bayard’s gayness — is impeccable.

Suddenly, violence intrudes. It’s 1956, during the Montgomery Bus Boycott, and Coretta and Martin’s home is firebombed. (Projections, lighting, and Kathy Ruvuna’s sound design combine to create a shock that underscores the danger the Kings were in.) Urging Martin to address concerned followers, Coretta tells him, “All you gotta do is open your mouth. God will start speaking.”

Thus, in the aftermath of that shattering bombing, we hear a sampling of Martin’s magnificent oratory:

We will not live and die by the sword. We will live and die by Love and Justice. Shoulders back, chin up, heart open, outright-nonviolent, God Fearing Love and Justice. WE were born for this movement. For this time. On purpose!
We would not be alive right now if this was not our assignment on the moral arc that bends towards justice. We possess the power necessary to withstand where we are.
So we will keep resisting. We will keep boycotting. We will keep loving through this moment in time, because on the other side, the promise of our labor shines bright into the future.

Boddie’s moving delivery does love and justice to the words.

Stanley Levison, a well-off Jewish attorney from New York, is next to join the team. He comes bearing challah and an open heart that wants to help. He cites as his inspiration the principle of Tikkun Olam, “to repair the world.” The character provides moments of warm humor, as when he awkwardly protests that he is not white because he is Jewish. Stanley raises significant funds for the cause, gets Martin out of jail, and turns out to be the wordsmith who polishes the final draft of Martin’s most famous speech. Aaron Bliden plays the complex part pitch perfectly.

The fifth on the team is Clarence Jones, a well-off entertainment attorney from L.A. who becomes a trusted aide to Martin and whose celebrity connections will ultimately bring star power to the March podium. Yao Dogbe excels in the enjoyable role.

Renea S. Brown as Coretta is a marvel of dignity and devotion. The play traces the relationship between Coretta and Martin with a depth and delight that could make for its own play. The solidity of their love is evident (as she tells Martin of the home she keeps, “There is no you out there, without a me, in here”). And when in a conflict over her woman’s rights, she reminds Martin she is “Martin Luther Queen,” she becomes the play’s shero.

At the top of Act Two comes a knockout scene that exemplifies the play’s universality and its power to inspire action. The stage is split. House left is Coretta speaking to a woman’s group at Spelman College; house right is Bayard speaking to students at Howard University. This is a bit of their back and forth:

CORETTA: We are BLACK and we are PROUD. But we need to remember that this is just a checkpoint on the highway to Negro Liberation!
BAYARD: And for all of our white brothers and sisters that are here, that is beautiful but you are not special because you are here!
CORETTA AND BAYARD: None of us are special because we are here!
CORETTA: Standing up for what’s right? For your freedom?
BAYARD: For your neighbor’s freedom?
CORETTA AND BAYARD: Does not make you special!
CORETTA: It makes you a decent human being.

Aaron Posner’s insightful direction warrants an award for activist artistry. The ovation on opening night kept going after the cast took their bows and exited. I was left with the exhilarating feeling of rejoicing in the resistance that the nation needs right now. Had the landmark keeper of Abraham Lincoln’s memory just staged an implicit anti-anti-DEI epic? Yes, I think so. I think that’s what has just happened at Ford’s. Don’t miss it.

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

The American Five plays through October 12, 2025, at Ford’s Theatre, 514 10th Street NW, Washington, DC. Tickets are on sale online and range from $26 to $53. Discounts are available for groups, senior citizens, military personnel, and those between the ages of 21 and 40. For more information, call (202) 347-4833 or (888) 616-0270 (toll-free). Tickets are also available through TodayTix. The production is recommended for ages 12 and older.

A digital program is downloadable here.

Ford’s accessibility offerings (audio-described, ASL-interpreted, sensory-friendly) include closed captioning via the GalaPro App.

COVID Safety: Face masks are optional.

The American Five

CAST
Aaron Bliden: Stanley
Ro Boddie: Martin
Renea S. Brown: Coretta
Yao Dogbe: Clarence
Stephen Conrad Moore: Bayard

ARTISTIC TEAM
Written by Chess Jakobs
Directed by Aaron Posner
Scenic Designer: Andrew R. Cohen
Costume Designer: Cody Von Ruden
Lighting Designer: Max Doolittle
Sound Designer: Kathy Ruvuna
Projection Designer: Mona Kasra
Hair and Make-Up Designer: Danna Rosedahl
Dialects and Voice Director: Rachel Hirshorn-Johnston
NY Casting Stephanie Klapper: Casting
Production Stage Manager: Brandon Prendergast
Assistant Stage Manager: Julia Singer

SEE ALSO:
Ford’s Theatre Society announces cast and creatives for world premiere of ‘The American Five’ (news story, July 31, 2025)

The post A galvanizing triumph at Ford’s Theatre in ‘The American Five’ appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

A small, nondenominational chapel situated in a cemetery inspired playwright Bob Bartlett to stage a new play in it featuring Mary Shelley, who, at the age of 18 in 1816, wrote the novel that became the science fiction phenomenon Frankenstein. Bartlett started simply with a title, Mary Shelley’s Monsters. He envisioned, as he has written, a “horror play” that “would in some way bring Shelley face-to-face with her creations.”

The enigmatic execution of that promising premise can now be experienced firsthand in the Chapel of the historic Congressional Cemetery in an immersive performance that stretches the imagination the way that a great classical poem does: it is rich in poetic diction and arch syntax, rife with evocative imagery, and abounding in aphorisms and epigrams that cumulatively invite audiences to connect their own experiences and emotions and infer their own meaning.

The story — which is not so much a plot as a cavalcade of poetic language — is given voice by two intensely visceral actors playing characters first authored by Mary Shelley: JC Payne as the scientist Victor Frankenstein and Jon Beal as the Creature. Their up-close physicality and vocal force are remarkable. Mary Shelley herself appears portrayed with inscrutable composure by Katrina Clark. Inside the chapel, with its eerie acoustics (episodically erupting in sound designer Kenny Neal’s thunderclaps), director Alex Levy has crafted a hauntingly theatrical production using only the existing chapel’s entrance, nave, and chancel along with the slightest of lighting effects: candelabras and sconces.

I attended a matinee when warm, yellowed daylight streamed in through stained-glass windows. I imagine everything’s creepier and chillier at night.

Details from Shelley’s life are referenced throughout in a kind of code. Her mother, the famous protofeminist Mary Wollstonecraft, died of an accidental infection ten days after giving birth to her — thus in Bartlett’s script Mary Shelley calls herself “a daughter who murdered a mother.” The line takes on ironic resonance as it is delivered under the chancel arch, which bears the inscription “I am the Resurrection and the Life.” Similarly alluded to in the script — and echoed in sounds of youngsters — are the three of Shelley’s four children who died in infancy or early childhood. In a profound sense, mortality and motherhood are intertwined in Mary Shelley’s Monsters in death’s embrace.

This, to my mind, is the biographical context of the drama that Mary Shelley devised in Frankenstein and that Bartlett has borrowed from fascinatingly in his magnificently meditative treatment of it. With the two male characters, Victor and his cobbled-together creation, the play returns again and again to the contrast and tension between Victor’s masculinist creation of “life” as if an omnipotent father-god — which leaves the “son” his Creature in lifelong rage and woundedness (“Why have you created, yet forsaken me?”) — and a young woman’s grief at the death of her babies and the mother who bore her.

About two-thirds of the way through Mary Shelley’s Monsters, the performance switches gears from what had been somewhat stentorian recitation to a broadly comic play within the play: a sketch comedy that the three players call “Three Days in Geneva.” This passage is loosely based on Mary Shelley’s “staycation” with her randy paramour (and later husband), the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, and her stepsister, who together visit Lord Byron and his physician — the three actors anticly playing the five roles. To amuse themselves, they compete to see who can tell the best ghost story, and the teenage Mary Shelley (here called “history’s very first goth girl!”) comes up with a “better scary story than the boys.” Thus was born her existential inquiry into the disastrous consequences of a man who tries to make a man.

At one point, Mary cherishes and sings sorrowfully to a puppet child as if her creation, and at another, she regards an action figure movie monster as if with regret. Her character has a backstory that is real; the play’s two other characters’ origins are solely fictional. With a playwright’s egalitarian allyship to his characters and in an ebullience of eloquence, Bartlett has imagined all three in ways that taunt our understanding and tantalize our interpretation.

Running Time: 85 minutes with no intermission.

Mary Shelley’s Monsters plays through October 12, 2025 (Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8:00 PM and Saturdays and Sundays at 2:00 PM), at Congressional Cemetery, 1801 E St SE, Washington, DC. Tickets are $35 and can be purchased online. Some content may not be appropriate for children.

This performance will happen in the Chapel at Congressional Cemetery, which is a brief walk from the main gate. Attendees will receive an email the day before their scheduled performance with reminders and updates — and will be asked to gather outside the chapel doors. Attendees do not need to bring a printed ticket to the gate: names of attendees will be on a registration list.

Because of the uniqueness of the venue/performance space, the production seats only 50 guests per performance. Seating (unpadded) is provided in the chapel.

The program for Mary Shelley’s Monsters is online here.

Mary Shelley’s Monsters
By Bob Bartlett

CREATIVE TEAM
Directed by Alex Levy
Sound design by Kenny Neal
Costumes, props, puppet by Bob Bartlett
Mask design and construction by Jon Beal

CAST
Jon Beal as the Creature
Katrina Clark as Mary Shelley
JC Payne as Victor Frankenstein

SEE ALSO:
Playwright Bob Bartlett on adapting ‘Frankenstein’ in Italy (feature by Bob Bartlett, September 11, 2025)

The post Haunting site-specific ambiguity in ‘Mary Shelley’s Monsters’ appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

An astrologer named Vincent is a central character in this play, and though he never appears, his influence is all over it. He has persuaded a ten-years-together married couple — Samira and Jason — that they are the “astrological doubles” of Diana Spencer and Dodi Fayed and that they should hole up for three days in a posh hotel in Paris on the 25th anniversary of Diana and Dodi’s horrific death. The point, according to Vincent, is to experience a “convergence,” as of celestial bodies.

This peremptory astrologer, not unlike a mischievous dramatist, has prescribed all the parameters: no phones, no one else in the room, curtains drawn, just the two of them, plus room service. Jason and Samira, being very into each other, waste no time converging their corporeal bodies such that over the course of this very straight play by Kareem Fahmy, they enact some of the most extensive and artfully hot intimacy coordination likely to be seen on a DC stage (shoutout to intimacy director Sierra Young). Thus in the following tumult of intimate scenes from three days of Jason and Samira’s marriage, we witness a beguiling amalgam of astrology and erotica verité.

Who are these people who have cast their lot with a stargazing life coach? The woman, Samira (played with steely-eyed coquetry by Dina Soltan), is Middle Eastern, daughter of Egyptian immigrants, and an actress on the brink of major stardom. Against Vincent’s dicta, she keeps surreptitiously checking her phone for a call from her agent about a megawatt part she is up for. The man, Jason (played with libidinous charm by impressively fit Jake Loewenthal), is white, Canadian, and a wealthy banker whose worth has increased substantially upon following Vincent’s advice. They live in a $5-million townhouse in Greenwich Village. They can afford to indulge whatever fantasies they please.

There isn’t much standing in their privileged way except for incipient marital tensions, having somewhat, but not everything, to do with the difference in their cultural backgrounds. The sticking-point conflict between them is whether to procreate. Jason wants babies, lots of them; Samira has prioritized her acting career and future fame.

We are privy to every passionate and dispassionate communication between them. Reginald L. Douglas, whose direction is both sublimely sensitive and spectacularly theatrical, has Soltan and Loewenthal interact up close and personal as though they really are alone, often in such private quietude that we voyeurs must lean in to hear. In between the dozen scenes — in which we learn how they met, courted, and wed then watch their marriage nearly become undone — their lavish hotel room (magnificently designed by Shartoya R. Jn. Baptiste) becomes a stunning sound and light show (designed, respectively, by navi and Sage Green), including effects that surreally summon a sense of the fateful night Dodi and Diana crashed in a tunnel pursued by paparazzi.

The veracity and chemistry between Soltan and Loewenthal are off the charts, not only in their amorous romps but in serious scenes that explore how Jason’s and Samira’s psychological backstories affect the sex and affection they want and don’t. Her parents “fought every single day of their marriage.” He was hazed, humiliated, and feminized by three older brothers (“I wasn’t a boy to them”) and given solace only by his mother. It now matters to him a lot that he be seen as a man. But at one point during foreplay, Samira communicates explicitly to Jason that she wants to be choked, and Jason recoils. (“I think you want me to be mean. Rough,” he says. “And that’s not who I am. I am not a bully.”) In such moments, it is as if we witness a dimension of trust and honesty between two human beings that transcends the stage.

Jeannette Christensen’s costumes range from Jason’s casual dressing down (and  undressing) to the sort of spiffy duds and Dior that befit the rich. The world of extreme wealth that is the world of the play is what it is. The authenticity and vivacity in the performances of Soltan and Loewenthal go a long way to keeping Samira and Jason relatable. They really do enoble the play.

Near the end, there is a marriage-meltdown scene between Samira and Jason that is so raw and unnerving that one dares not breathe. It’s like watching a verbal brawl that seems certain to end badly. I won’t say more. But Samira and Jason’s ostensible astrological analogy to tragic lovers Dodi and Diana — which up till then, if I’m being honest, has seemed kind of an incidental and corny conceit — suddenly earns its dramaturgical keep.

Running Time: Approximately 90 minutes with no intermission.

Dodi & Diana plays through October 5, 2025, presented by Mosaic Theater Company performing in the Sprenger Theatre at Atlas Performing Arts Center, 1333 H Street NE, Washington, DC. Tickets are $50.50$–83.50 and available by contacting the box office at (202) 399-7993 or boxoffice@atlasarts.org from 12 pm–6 pm Tuesday through Sunday, or one hour prior to a performance. Tickets may also be purchased online or through TodayTix.

The digital program is downloadable here.

Performances
Thursdays–Saturdays at 7:30 p.m.; Saturdays at 3 p.m. (except September 6); Sundays at 3 p.m.; and Thursdays, September 18 and 25, at 11 a.m.

Discounts
Rush Tickets: A limited number of $20 rush tickets are available via walk-up cash purchase at the box office beginning one hour before the start of each performance. Cash preferred.
Senior Rate (65+): Save 10% with code: SENIOR
Student Rate: $20 tickets with code: STUDENT
Educator Rate: $20 tickets with code: EDUCATOR
Military and First Responder Rate:  Save 10% with code: HERO
Furloughed and Laid Off Federal Workers: Get $20 tickets with code: SOLIDARITY
Under 30: Patrons 30 and younger can access $25 tickets to Mosaic mainstage performances. Use code UNDER30. Restrictions: One ticket per order. Discount is not available on weekend matinees.

Dodi & Diana
By Kareem Fahmy
Directed by Reginald L. Douglas

CREATIVE TEAM
Scenic Designer: Shartoya R. Jn. Baptiste
Lighting Designer: Sage Green
Costume Designer: Jeannette Christensen
Sound Designer: navi
Properties Designer: Luke Hartwood
Production Stage Manager: Jenna Keefer
Intimacy and Violence Director: Sierra Young
Casting Director: Chelsea Radigan

CAST
Jason: Jake Loewenthal
Samira: Dina Soltan

COVID Safety: Mosaic Theater aligns its safety protocols with those of the Atlas Performing Arts Center. Masking is recommended, however it is no longer mandatory — masks in theaters and public spaces at the Atlas Performing Arts Center are now optional. For the latest information, visit mosaictheater.org/health-and-safety.

SEE ALSO:
Mosaic Theater Company to present DC premiere of ‘Dodi & Diana’ (news story, August 4, 2025)

The post In ‘Dodi & Diana’ at Mosaic, a beguiling amalgam of astrology and erotica verité appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

In 1977, when the gritty, R-rated movie Saturday Night Fever hit theaters, the futuristically named 2001 Odyssey, where the film’s iconic dance scenes were shot, was a popular real disco in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. That nightclub is long gone, but its energy and intensity live on, as evidenced in the infectious ebullience propelling Saturday Night Fever the Musical now on stage in the round at Toby’s Dinner Theatre.

Come to this jukebox musical adaptation for its great songs by The Bee Gees — “Stayin’ Alive,” “How Deep Is Your Love,” “Night Fever,” “More Than a Woman,” “Jive Talkin’,” “You Should Be Dancing,” “If I Can’t Have You,” “Nights on Broadway” — and be treated to a dance floor surging with young vocal and choreographic talent flashing back a half century to passions and aspirations as fresh as now.

The story centers on 19-year-old Tony Manero, a paint store clerk from an Italian family in Bay Ridge, famously portrayed in the film by John Travolta. Here, he is played impressively by Patrick Gover with his vulnerability tucked inside muscularity. Interestingly, in this iteration of the musical, Tony doesn’t have an “I want” song — that trope in which a character sings of their woes, hopes, and dreams, often near the top of a tuner. Instead, we learn of Tony’s inner longing gradually in dialogue scenes, such as with his brusque, disparaging father, to whom he says,

You know how many times someone told me I was good in my life? Two! … This raise today [at the paint store] and dancin’ — dancin’ at the disco. You never did!

What makes Tony’s heart hurt is similarly exposed in his scenes with Stephanie, a 20-year-old he is head over heels for, to whom he says,

[W]hen I’m dancin’ at 2001, I got someplace … and I’m somebody. But Monday morning, I’m back at the paint store and it’s not the same … and I think, can’t I feel that way about something else in my life?

To be somebody and be told that one is good. In a production replete with period bellbottoms, big hair, and disco balls, this touching depiction of a young adult’s quest for a sense of self is what feels timeless about Saturday Night Fever. That and the earworm-worthy songlist.

The character Stephanie is a superb dancer and aspiring sophisticate with whom Tony wants desperately to dance (and more). Played beautifully by Rachel Cahoon with striking self-possession, she delivers an “I want” song of her own, “What Kind of Fool [Who’s sorry now],” in which she reflects mournfully on having deflected Tony’s attentions.

Annette, who desperately and pathetically wants to be Tony’s girlfriend (he rebuffs her coldly), also has an “I want” song, “If I Can’t Have You [I don’t want nobody, baby],” which Tori Weaver as Annette belts heartrendingly.

Throughout, the choreography by Director Mark Minnick and Christen Svingos is propulsive, especially in the ensemble numbers, such as the spectacular opener, “Staying Alive,” in which is introduced the ever-repeating gesture of a finger pointing upward. Also vivid is the “Boogie Shoes” number, where we meet Tony and his impetuous gang of four, the Faces: Bobby (Ben Ribler), Gus (Benjamin Campion), Double-J (Nicky Kaider), and Joey (Joey Ellinghaaus). Watching Tony navigate awkwardly between this restless and randy guy world and the realm of responsible romance with a woman, for which he is woefully ill-prepared, proffers this production’s most fascinating subtext. A lot may have changed since the 1970s in male-female relationship ethics; a lot has not.

Paralleling the Tony/Annette and Tony/Stephanie dating dramas is the story of Pauline (Shannon Sullivan) and Bobby. She’s pregnant by him, and he is distraught at the thought of having to marry her. Before their tale turns tragic, they have a punchy musical number, “Jive Talkin’,” in which Sullivan’s vocals are a standout.

Powerhouse vocals are also delivered by two characters on staff at the 2001 Odyssey disco: Kadejah Oné as Candy, the resident singer, totally knocks it out of the park in her “Disco Inferno” and “Nights on Broadway” solos. And in “Night Fever” and “More Than a Woman (Reprise),” Oné and singer/dancer extraordinaire Terrell Chambers as DJ Monty demonstrate that they each could hold a whole show on their shoulders.

In the end, Stephanie warms to Tony, and what changes her mind about him is really moving. They win a dance contest at the disco, but Tony recognizes that the Puerto Rican second-place-winning couple was really better, so he gives the trophy and prize money to them. In this selfless and honorable act, Stephanie sees who he is — and so does he. I love that a musical can make real such a moment of selfhood recognition and realization.

Saturday Night Fever is a little atypical as jukebox musicals go. The story has been significantly sanitized from the movie, and the lyrics can seem patched into an abbreviated narrative with only the thinnest dramatic motivation. But by gosh, the songs are good, the terrific cast boogies all night, and together the music direction by Ross Scott Rawlings and the off-stage orchestra give the gorgeous score all the oomph it deserves.

Running Time: Approximately two and a half hours, including one intermission — and the preshow buffet is A+.

Saturday Night Fever the Musical plays through November 2, 2025, at Toby’s Dinner Theatre, 5900 Symphony Woods Road, Columbia, MD. Tickets, including dinner and show (adult, $74–$92; child, $64–$67), can be purchased by calling 410-730-8311 or online.

The menu is here. The playbill is here.

Saturday Night Fever the Musical
Based on the Paramount/RSO film and story by Nik Cohn
Adapted for the stage by Robert Stigwood in collaboration with Bill Oakes
North American version written by Sean Cercone & David Abbinanti
Featuring songs by The Bee Gees
Arrangements & Orchestrations by David Abbinanti

CREATIVE TEAM
Direction by Mark Minnick
Music Direction by Ross Scott Rawlings
Choreography by Christen Svingos
Lighting Design by Lynn Joslin
Scenic/Properties Design by Shane Lowry
Sound Design by Mark Smedley
Hair/Wig Design by Jayson Kueberth
Costume Design by Heather C Jackson
Production Stage Manager: Cheryl Stansfield

CAST
Reporters: Terrell Chambers, Carolina Tomasi, Noah Mutterperl
Tony Manero: Patrick Gover
Salesman/Jay/Chester: Carter Crosby
Mr. Fusco/Pete: Brian Kaider
Pauline: Shannon Sullivan
Frank Manero: Alan Hoffman
Flo Manero: Jane C. Boyle
Linda Manero: Margaret Kelly
Bobby: Ben Ribler
Gus: Benjamin Campion
Double-J: Nicky Kaider
Joey: Joey Ellinghaus
Annette: Tori Weaver
Candy: Kadejah Oné
Monty: Terrell Chambers
Stephanie Mangano: Rachel Cahoon
Frank Manero, Jr.: Noah Mutterperl
Shirley: Julia Williams
Gabriel/Cesar: Brian Dauglash
Maria: Carolina Tomasi
Ensemble: JC Bost, Carter Crosby, Brian Dauglash, Cameren Evans, Jaylen Fontaine, Margaret Kelly, Carolina Tomasi, Julia Williams

UNDERSTUDIES AND SWINGS
Noah Mutterperl & Nicky Kaider (Tony Manero), Carolina Tomasi (Stephanie Mangano), Brandon Bedore (Bobby, Gus), Brian Dauglash (Double-J, Joey), Benjamin Campion (Frank, Jr.), JC Bost (Pauline), Julia Williams (Annette), Cameren Evans (Candy), Jaylen Fontaine (Monty), Melynda Burdette (Flo Manero), David Bosley-Reynolds (Frank Manero, Mr. Fusco)
Male Swing: Brandon Bedore
Female Swings: Christen Svingos, Meridian To’alepai

ORCHESTRA
Conductor/Keyboard: Ross Scott Rawlings, Catina McLagan, Justin Hardman
Trumpet: Wyeth Aleksei, Mike Barber, Tony Neenan, Franklin Wade
Reeds/Woodwinds: Steve Haaser, Charlene McDaniel, Katie Ravenwood
Trombone: Julian Ayers, Patrick Crossland, Jay Ellis
Guitar: Daniel Lewis, Rick Peralta, Kim Spath
Bass: Matthew Carroll, Linda Cote, Michael Kellam
Drums/Percussion: Mike Feathers, Bob LaForce

The post  ‘Saturday Night Fever’ at Toby’s Dinner Theatre scores points appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

There was a time during Trump’s first term when local theater did some spine-stiffening standing up to him. Among the notable nose-thumbing shows was Mosaic Theater’s Vicuña & The American Epilogue, a political allegory by Jon Robin Baitz about a scruplesless buffoon — a stand-in for Trump — who requires his tailor to dress him for success. Another memorable local takedown was Mike Daisey’s scathing monologue at Woolly Mammoth The Trump Card, which, during its run, Daisey revised to keep up with revelations of Trump’s abuse of women. So much local theater targeted Trump, either directly or indirectly, that my DC Theater Arts colleague David Siegel and I wondered aloud whether DC theater had become “addicted” to Trump. “Has DC theater become dependent for its relevance on Trumpism the way other media have become reliant on Trumpism for ratings and circulation?,” I asked back then. “And are we having what amounts to a collective addiction, the kind that we’d all have withdrawal symptoms from if and when Trump and all his toadies are no longer in power?”

My naiveté there aside, those were the good old days, it turns out — halcyon times when we had no premonition that things would ever get as bad as they have gotten in Trump’s second term. Yet nowadays, the topic of Trumpism is broached explicitly on local stages hardly at all. The collapse of NEA funding and Trump’s imperious takeover of the Kennedy Center have sent a chill. Arts leaders who program seasons are in a new bind (as Deryl Davis reported in DCTA, “How can theater talk back to Trump?”). And now Trump has deployed the military to police DC, a vainglorious diversion of attention from his plunging approval ratings and suppression of the Epstein files.

Against the backdrop of Trump’s burgeoning autocracy, an upstart new theater company named Fear and Misery in DC has staged Bertolt Brecht’s 90-year-old anti-Nazi play, Fear and Misery in the Third Reich, with an exemplary activist sass that’s pitch-perfect for these times of terror and timidity.

Brecht wrote Fear and Misery in the Third Reich between 1933 and 1938 (before the Holocaust became public knowledge). It’s a series of playlets, each depicting the prevailing atmosphere of fear among common folk under authoritarian oppression. The production now at Capitol Hill Arts Workshop, directed inventively by Theo Yu, selects a dozen of those playlets (as translated by Eric Bentley), and — this is the genius part — inserts in between them recent news from the homegrown dictatorship front.

The contemporary interpolations relate to the playlets that follow in inspired and chilling ways. For instance, a 2025 news item about Trump’s assault on science and his slashing of research funding is juxtaposed with a scene set in 1935 at the University of Goettingen, where two physicists are reading excitedly about Einstein. When a scowling Nazi goosesteps by, the researchers immediately stop enthusing and instead trash Einstein’s work as “Jewish.”

For another example, a 2025 report on inhumane conditions in an ICE miigrant detention facility is followed by a scene set in 1936 Berlin in which a man recently released from a concentration camp for political prisoners, where his hands were mutilated, pays a visit to some old friends. Suspicious and fearful, his former comrades give him the cold shoulder. Underscoring the scene’s meaning today is a reading of an emotional letter from an immigrant detainee.

Similarly: A news clip read aloud from just days ago reports that the owner of the MAGA‑themed Trump Burger chain in Texas now faces deportation because of the Trump administration’s immigration policies. Right after that comes a playlet with a shocking ending: a butcher, after his SA-member son is arrested, hangs himself in his shop window with a sign around his neck reading “I voted for Hitler.” A more apt metaphor for voters’ buyer’s remorse, I cannot imagine.

Even as the show’s content is dense and deep — layered with much rich past-and-present resonance that can be challenging to track — the staging itself is very simple. Four versatile, improvisatory actors — Avery Dell (she/her), Daniella Ignacio (she/her), John Jones (they/them), and Genasee Worman (she/they) — play all the parts. They perform in a space that feels like a rehearsal room, a blackbox set with black chairs and a wardrobe rack. Minimal costume pieces indicate character, such as a robe and a strand of pearls to say “woman” or a Washington Nationals baseball cap and bandana to say “man.” (“In a cast with no men,” writes Theo Yu in their Director’s Note, “our production specifically explores how we perpetuate fascism through the performance of gender.”) Often the stage is dramatically washed in single solid colors; the acting style also is broad and obvious, like sketch comedy except dead serious.

For me, the show’s most poignant playlet was one set in Frankfurt in 1935 titled “The Jewish Wife.” This production introduced it with a 2025 news report of a South Los Angeles woman deported to Mexico. John Jones plays the wife who — faced with systematic persecution and marginalization of Jewish citizens under Nazi rule — has made the agonizing choice that she must leave her non-Jewish husband and leave Germany in order to save his career. We see her packing and phoning friends, desperately trying to find someone to look after her husband after she’s gone. And we see a parting conversation between her and her husband in which they speak of it as a short holiday both knowing it will be longer. A moving monologue by the wife, performed in English, is simultaneously performed in Spanish by Genasee Worman. It is a deeply touching juxtaposition referring to many people currently in peril.

I won’t give away the show’s powerful ending, except to say it’s an stunning call to resistance and a jolt to the system. If you’ve been looking for theater that doesn’t hesitate to call Trump a tyrant and a threat to democracy, this one’s for you.

Running Time: One hour and 40 minutes with no intermission.

Fear and Misery in the Third Reich plays through August 16, 2025, presented by Fear and Misery in DC performing at Capitol Hill Arts Workshop, 545 7th Street Southeast, Washington, DC. Tickets are Pay-What-You-Will (suggested donation: $20) and are available online.

Every performance will include a community discussion around tangible ways to organize, resist, and protect our rights. Ticket proceeds will be split evenly between Migrant Solidarity Mutual Aid (MSMA) and Capitol Hill Arts Workshop (CHAW).

The program for Fear and Misery in the Third Reich is online here.

PERFORMANCES
Thursday, August 14 @ 7:00pm
Friday, August 15 @ 7:00pm*
Saturday, August 16 @ 2:00pm*
Saturday, August 16 @ 7:00pm

*Performances on Friday, August 15 at 7 pm and Saturday, August 16 at 2 pm are FACE MASKS REQUIRED. Face masks will be provided courtesy of Mask Bloc DC.

Fear and Misery in the Third Reich
By Bertolt Brecht
English Version by Eric Bentley

FEATURING
Avery Dell, Daniella Ignacio, John Jones, Genasee Worman

CREATIVE TEAM
Director/Producer: Theo Yu
Producer/Stage Manager Cover: Christina McCann
Stage Manager: Sven Klingen
Assistant Director: Bri Houtman
Sound Designer: Yasha Shulkin
Dramaturg: Siena Maxwell
Visual Identity Designer: Julia Winkler

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Does a straight comedy about straight coupling sound like a cliché to you? Well, rest assured, Apropos of Nothing, a Comedy is nothing of the sort. Although it is packed deliberately and wittily with what seems every cliché under the sun, Greg Kalleres’ lighthearted, quip-rich script is a howlingly funny and wholly fresh take on the vicissitudes of love and our curious attraction to hackneyed language.

The DC premiere production, now on stage at Keegan Theatre, is a sheer delight, starting off with a set design by Josh Sticklin that encompasses at least 10 different playing areas — multiple bars, two bedrooms, an office, a living room — in each of which a separate scene will unfold. The anticipation engendered by this storybook set becomes its own savored moment in time.

The pleasures of the play itself kick in immediately, in a prologue, wherein Rebecca (Emily Erickson), a thirtysomething adjunct professor, has called into her office a 19-year-old student of hers, Jacob (Drew Sharpe), ostensibly to critique his cliché-ridden paper (which it really is, and Jacob’s earnest defense is “That’s the point”). After a bit of banter between them about whether lame and lazy clichés can pass as wise epigrams (she says no, he says yes), it becomes explicit that Jacob has a massive crush on Rebecca, which she regards with evident ambivalence, then asks him to leave. Thus are the play’s entwined themes of love, lust, and language set up — and I was hooked like a fish.

In the tightly structured script’s next scene, set at a wedding reception, Rebecca’s boyfriend, Owen (Ryan Sellers), having had much to drink, rambles on to a buddy, Dave (Dominique Gray), about the inconstancy of love, about how it comes and goes, ebbs and flows, even in committed relationships. Abruptly, “apropos of nothing,” Owen blurts out that he’s in love with his best friend’s wife. And kaboom, just like that, the play is off to the races.

In the following scene, Owen and his best friend, Martin (Justin Von Stein), are having a drink in one of the set’s several bars when Martin says that Dave told him Owen is in love with Martin’s wife, Lily. Kaboom, again. We’ve now officially entered what-the-heck-is-going-to-happen-next territory.

Case in point, the next scene, where we meet Lily (Irene Hamilton), who is being visited by Owen in her and Martin’s living room. She is knitting to alleviate stress. She lets Owen know that Martin has told her Owen loves her. The scene devolves into Lily screaming hilariously into a pillow. In no time at all, Kalleres’ comedically scripted chain reaction of surprise events and minibombshell revelations has become, under Ray Ficca’s swift and savvy direction, the theatrical equivalent of a page-turner.

I’ll not disclose more plot except to point out that the set has yet more bars and two bedrooms to be played in, and rest assured, they will be, like clockwork.

Quick scene changes are abetted by Hailey LaRoe’s kaleidoscopic lighting design and Brandon Cook’s contemporary sound design. Cindy Landrum Jacobs’s properties and set-dressing design lend each playing space authenticity. And given that several scenes play out under covers in bedrooms, Sierra Young’s sensitive intimacy direction calls for a shoutout.

The cast is superb. They each have an uncanny grasp of what’s funny and what’s the moment-to-moment emotional truth. Hamilton, mesmerizing as Lily, has hysterical episodes of meltdown. Sharpe as Jacob nails the callow and horny teen. Von Stein as Martin stays admirably stalwart. Sellers, who shines as Owen, conveys not-quite-self-aware even as he remains credibly guileless. Dominique Gray appearing briefly as Dave listened well. And Erickson as Rebecca navigates her tricky character arc with aplomb.

With its moving messages about love and amusing motif of clichés, Apropos of Nothing, a Comedy is a sure bet and you can bank on it. The cast’s combined comic timing and the script’s nonsop wit propel the momentum of this modern straight comedy of manners like nobody’s business.

Running Time: One hour and 30 minutes, with no intermission.

Apropos of Nothing, a Comedy plays through August 10, 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 $54 ($44 for seniors and students) and available online.

The cast and creative team bios are online here.

Apropos of Nothing, a Comedy
By Greg Kalleres

CAST
Owen: Ryan Sellers
Martin: Justin Von Stein
Lily: Irene Hamilton
Rebecca: Emily Erickson
Jacob: Drew Sharpe
Dave / Owen U/S: Dominique Gray
Lily & Rebecca U/S: Brenna Horner
Jacob, Martin, & Dave U/S: Vishrut Shukla

PRODUCTION TEAM
Director: Ray Ficca
Assistant Director: Gabrielle Busch
Intimacy Director: Sierra Young
Scenic Designer: Josh Sticklin
Lighting Designer: Hailey LaRoe
Sound Designer: Brandon Cook
Properties & Set Dressing Designer: Cindy Landrum Jacobs
Costume Designer: Elizabeth Morton
Production Manager: Emilie Maree Knudsen
Stage Manager: Sarah Daniel
Assistant Stage Manager: Isabella Parkerson

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Ché Navïn Arrington — a Black, gay, trans artist and writer born in DC — wrote The Hardest Words to Say in 2018 when they were a freshman in college. A one-time reading in the District Fringe festival proved it to be a deeply introspective and lyrically theatrical memory play whose imaginative and original storytelling absolutely warrants a full production.

The main character, a bisexual Black college student named Oprah, tries by revisiting her past in the hope of healing to process trauma from sexual abuse that began when she was 12 (“How did I get so broken?” “How did I become so alone?”).

Oprah (pointedly named after Oprah Winfrey, also a sexual abuse survivor) has two female friends from school, Will and Missy, both lesbian, with whom she tries to work out relationships that are by turns romantic and reminiscent of Mean Girls. There is also a Man in the cast who plays multiple male roles, including Oprah’s therapist, various dating app guys, a brief hookup, and a predator.

In a most promising stroke of dramaturgy, the character of Oprah is simultaneously portrayed by two female actors, named Heart and Mind.

MIND: Why do you think one man has such power over us?
HEART: One man can ruin a lot of lives.

The split within Oprah originates, Mind explains, in her experience of “One man. A predator. A beast. I became two people, so I could be more than one man…”

In the reading I attended, the actors appearing as Heart (Kayla Earl) and Mind (Cayla Hall), brought to the roles a touching vivacity and emotional translucence that hinted at how a full staging could clarify the dramatic impact of their connection and distinction.

Arrington’s dialog ranges from punchy to poignant, as when Mind responds to her therapist’s recommendation that she knit.

MIND: I’m sorry. I don’t understand how knitting will help me deal with my problems.
THERAPIST: It’s said to be very therapeutic.
MIND: So far it feels stupid and pointless.
THERAPIST: Look, there are people who knit and people who don’t. What do you do?
MIND: I unravel.

Arrington’s dialogue can also be sexually graphic, as when Oprah encounters a cartoonishly pro-sex woman next to whom she feels inferior.

MIND: For some people, thinking about sex can be triggering.
HEART: For some people, thinking about sex can be uncomfortable.

Among the scenes in the play are some marvelously comic set pieces, as when Heart, having “succumbed to peer pressure and started internet dating,” encounters a laughable succession of online guys whom she promptly swipes left or right.

In another, Mind imagines that her friends Will and Missy stick up for her in a scene staged as an over-the-top telenovela.

I was particularly impressed by how Arrington looks with a sharply satirical eye on the culpability of men, as in this exchange:

MAN ONLINE: Ya know this whole feminist movement thing and sexual misconduct awareness, it’s great, but I think one thing that’s not being talked about is how a bunch of guys—guys I hang out with and work with everyday—who don’t do this kind of thing and whose lives aren’t going to be affected by everyone talking about these bad dudes all day long. I’m sayin’ that all this shit being covered in the news is the bad dudes.
HEART: The rapists, pedophiles, and sexual predators?
MAN ONLINE: Yeah those guys. Everyone talks about them, but no one talks about the good guys like me.
HEART: Do you want some pats on the back for doing nothing? … Men like you make it so much easier for “bad dudes” to thrive.

Like a tenderly kept time capsule of one teenager’s remembered pain, acuity, and passion, The Hardest Words to Say cries out to be openly heard.

The Hardest Words to Say
Work-in-progress exploration of trauma and survival by Ché Navïn Arrington

Running Time: One hour and 45 minutes
Date and Time: Saturday, July 26, 3:45p

Venue: Phoenix – UDC Lecture Hall (44A03)
Tickets: $15
More Info and Tickets: The Hardest Words to Say

Genre: Drama

Directed by: Ché Navïn Arrington
Playwright: Ché Navïn Arrington
Performed by: HEART – Kayla Earl (She/they), MIND – Cayla Hall (She/her), WILL – Ché Navïn Arrington (They/he), MISSY – Mars Pyles (She/her), ONE MAN – Daniel Young (He/him), OPRAH/STAGE DIRECTIONS – Kayla Holloway (She/Her)

The complete 2025 District Fringe Festival schedule is online here.
The 2025 District Fringe Festival program is online here.

The post 2025 District Fringe Review: ‘The Hardest Words to Say’ by Ché Navïn Arrington (5 stars) appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

I actually know how the sausage gets made. (The aphorism as analogized to lawmaking is wittily referenced in Faction of Fools’ wildly inventive new satire, about which more later.) I once worked several summers in a sausage factory, and I saw it all — from carcasses by the barrelful to seasoned pulped flesh pumped into animal-intestine casings. For years afterward, I had nightmares of falling into a meat grinder.

But that title-triggered memory is not what I’m here to review.

Faction of Fools, DC’s indispensable Commedia dell’Arte theater, is now in its 16th season of making provocative and fun foolery. Wearing masks that cover half their faces (à la the Renaissance-era art form), the actors compensate with an energetic and expressive style of physicality that is a delight to behold. If you’ve never seen a Faction of Fools show, you can’t imagine what you’ve been missing.

Two years ago, an eight-member ensemble within the company began devising a new work based on a simple idea: a political comedy on Capitol Hill. What their nimble imaginations and mad performing chops have come up with — a Commedia-inflected lampoon of the legislative process called How the Sausage Gets Made (now playing at the Capital Hill Arts Workshop through August 9) — is a DC-specific fusion of salience and silliness with guffaws galore.

When you arrive in the small CHAW black box, you first see scenic designer Johnny Weissgerber’s fantastic set: ceiling-high Ionic columns topple like dominoes into the distance as the pediment they held up seems about to come crashing down. It’s as eloquent an emblem of our faltering government as ever there was.

A troupe of six players writhes in an indistinct mound, dressed uniformly in gray overalls. They gradually differentiate and reveal themselves, and for a time, we see the actors’ whole faces. I liked this period of personalization before they all donned masks (designed by Tara Cariaso) and only their lower jaws remained visible.

Two interrelated story lines take off. In one, a newbie Congressman, Nathan Newbright (played with earnest naivety by Kathryn Zoerb), arrives on the Hill believing he can quickly get a bill passed that would establish free public libraries — a no-brainer, one would think. But obstacles begin to pile up, including blowback from a Chorus of Media and legislators’ ever-deployable delay tactics, like a go-nowhere pilot project. (A dramaturg and political consultant pseudonymously named “Pryor Moral” has lent the loony proceedings a modicum of factual foundation.) Amid the cartoonery and clowning that the Fools are so adept at are giggles worth of sight gags, nifty one-liners (the books to be in the library would be “like podcasts for your eyes”), and spirited song-and-dance bits (music composition by Jesse Terrill). Sample lyric (sung to Nathan Newbright):

“CITIZENS UNITED VERSUS FEC”
GAVE US ALL A BRAND NEW CLUE-OO:
YOU THINK YOURSELF A PERSON
BUT CORPORATIONS ARE PEOPLE TOO!
IN FACT, YOUNG MAN,
THEY’RE MORE PEOPLE THAN YOU!

The other main story arc is a clever transposition of political partisanship into a divide between meat eaters and vegans. To give you some idea of the show-stealing potential here, there’s a hilarious scene featuring the cast manipulating puppets made of slabs of meat. Everyone in the cast of crazily named characters not only co-wrote the script but is a standout in comic contortions, sharp timing, and silly walks (Rebecca Ballinger as Nataliya Marie and Dottie Butts, Robert Pike as Bruiser Uppercut, Andrew Quilpa as Tanthony Bank and Burt “Big Books,”
Jesse Terrill as Atticus Brief, and
Arika Thames as Frances Kina). Director Francesca Chilcote has honed their performance into a masterful mix of actor antics and tight cuing (sound design by Kenny Neal, light design William K. D’Eugenio, with a shoutout to Samantha Nodarse Owen, who, as stage manager, called the show). The array of circusy-suit costumes by Cidney Forkpah was superfun to watch (the ostentatious neck ties, in particular). The show’s amusing sendup of politicos begins in the dressing room.

There’s something to relish about seeing this spoof of DC politics, right here in DC, right now when there’s so much unfunny. Although How the Sausage Gets Made feels a bit longer than it needs to be, the show’s superb Comedia makes it perfect for theater buffs, and its parody of lawmaking makes it perfect for anyone in government or adjacent to it (which is all of us).

As sausage-making goes, the show’s a real wiener.

Running Time: Approximately two hours and 10 minutes, including one 10-minute intermission.

How the Sausage Gets Made plays through August 9, 2024, presented by Faction of Fools Theatre Company performing in the black box theater inside the Capitol Hill Arts Workshop at 545 7th Street SE, Washington, DC. Tickets are on a sliding scale ($27, market rate; $37, “pay it forward”; $17, lower income/child) and can be purchased at the door and online.

The program for How the Sausage Gets Made is online here.

Family friendly but contains some PG-13 humor.

COVID Safety: Medical-mask-required performances are scheduled for Saturday, July 26, at 2 pm; Saturday, August 2, at 2 pm; and Saturday, August 9, at 2 pm. Masks will be available at the box office. For all other performances, masks are not required.

How the Sausage Gets Made
Written by the Devising Ensemble of Faction of Fools (Rebecca Ballinger, Francesca Chilcote, Natalie Cutcher, Robert Pike, Andrew Quilpa, Jesse Terrill, Arika Thames, and Kathryn Zoerb)
Directed by Francesca Chilcote

CAST
Rebecca Ballinger: Nataliya Marie & Dottie Butts
Robert Pike: Bruiser Uppercut
Andrew Quilpa: Tanthony Bank & Burt “Big Books”
Jesse Terrill: Atticus Brief
Arika Thames: Frances Kina
Kathryn Zoerb: Nathan Newbright
Understudies: Isabelle Jennings, Caitlin Frazier, and Danny Puente Cackley

Stage Manager: Samantha Nodarse Owen
Associate Director: Natalie Cutcher
Production Manager: Cris Ruthenberg-Marshall
Scenic Design: Johnny Weissgerber
Lighting Design: William K. D’Eugenio
Costume Design: Cidney Forkpah
Mask Design: Tara Cariaso of Waxing Moon Masks
Sound Design: Kenny Neal
Dramaturg and Political Consultant: “Pryor Moral”
Music Composition: Jesse Terrill
Props Design: Katherine Offutt Ross
Master Electrician: Patrick Kleespies
Music Director & Physicality Coach: Kathryn Zoerb
Associate Production Managers: Lilli Hokama & Robert Pike
Production Photography: DJ Corey Photography
Graphic Design: Ben Lauer

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With endearing whimsy, Rodin Alcerro and Pablo Guillén, two talented physical-theater performers (and partners in real life), take a tickled District Fringe audience on a clown travelogue in mime. Imaginatively evoking a journey together by air, sea, and land on a bare black stage with but a few props, they intend literally only the imperative verb that’s their show’s title, GO. All else in their abstract excursion is a fanciful and delightful trip.

The two players meet, perhaps by chance — or maybe they already know each other, it’s not clear. We are left to puzzle out who they are, where they are, and why; they could as well be two folks en route in wide-eyed wonder to somewhere for no reason. Guillén wears an airline pilot jacket accented with bright red socks; Alcerro wears baggy slacks and a magenta kerchief around his neck. They’ll put on bulbous red clown noses in a bit.

“Teatro,” intones Alcerro to the audience in Spanish, one of only two words spoken in the show.

Lively vignettes from their virtual voyage follow: Wielding a black-and-white umbrella, they become airborne as pretend gusts of wind thrust them this way and that, their dancerly synchronicity on eloquent display. Then, opening a crinkly gray plastic tarp, they turn it into the ocean and appear to sail upon it, at one point almost going under. Later, as Rodin holds a color painting of a locomotive and we hear the loud sound of a train passing by, the two traverse the stage as though on a choo-choo. We are even treated to Alcerro’s mimed upchuck from motion sickness.

Using that prop plastic tarp again, the two huddle under it and become, aided by a demonic mask, a massive, mysterious, malevolent puppet. I’m not sure how the devil this figured into the two travelers’ journey, but it sure was a wowza effect.

The show is well served by Hailey LaRoe’s lighting design, which lends the aforementioned monster a ghastly green hue. And the sound design by Brandon Cook underscores with lovely resonance two especially touching passages, one with Ravelle’s “Bolero” and another with “Moon River.”

“Theater,” intones Alcerro to the audience in English, the other word spoken in the show.

Enjoyable sight gags are sufficient to prompt scattered chuckles, but comedy per se seems not the piece’s pursuit. Rather, we seem to be invited to accompany two charming chums on a venture whose point becomes clear only near the end in their tender mutual regard: One pounds the other’s chest in the rhythm of a heartbeat, then the other exactly reciprocates.

Though this show’s plot may be perplexing, its story not fully developed dramaturgically, there’s no doubt these two players have an appealing pulse together. And you should GO.

GO
A wordless tale of two clowns by Rodin Alcerro and Pablo Guillén

Running Time: 50 minutes
Dates and Times:

• Sunday, July 13, 2:00p
• Thursday, July 17, 7:30p
• Wednesday, July 23, 8:15p
• Thursday, July 24, 9:15p
• Sunday, July 27, 1:45p

Venue: Phoenix – UDC Lecture Hall (44A03)
Tickets: $15
More Info and Tickets: GO

Genre: Physical theater, clown

Written and performed by Rodin Alcerro and Pablo Guillén.

The complete 2025 District Fringe Festival schedule is online here.
The 2025 District Fringe Festival program is online here.

The post 2025 District Fringe Review: ‘GO’ by Rodin Alcerro and Pablo Guillén (4 stars) appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

Acrobatic artists and real-life couple Gerardo Gutiérrez and Michelle Hernandez are giving a breathtaking performance as Romeo and Juliet in Duel Reality at Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Harman Hall. The unique circus-arts-meets-Shakespeare show, as my colleague Zoe Winsky wrote in her review, “beautifully blends death-defying acrobatics, modern dance, and theatrical storytelling to create something truly memorable.”

I happened to meet the star-blessed couple at the opening night reception and had the pleasure of continuing our conversation over Zoom (here edited for length and clarity, with thanks to ensemble member Santiago Rivera for translation assistance). Among the personal things they shared was their hands-on advice to other couples about trust.

John: I was thrilled to talk to you because your performance was overwhelmingly beautiful and moving.

Michelle: Thank you.

Your performance told a story inspired by Romeo and Juliet, but even more powerfully, it told a story about the two of you and the trust between you. No one could watch without being awed. Thank you for being open to talking about your performance, the trust in it, and how it comes to be. Could you begin by telling me how your partnering began, both in the circus and in life?

Gerardo: We’ve been together as a couple for 11 years. We got the chance to meet when we were studying circus in Mexico City.

Michelle: We started as a couple, and six months later, we started training together for the discipline that we do in the show.

It was in training that you decided to do this act together?

Gerardo: Yeah.

Michelle: We had a Russian coach in Mexico City, and we learned from him. At the beginning, it was easy for us, and we liked to train a lot; but with the years passing by, it’s hard working on a relationship as a partnership and also as a duo. Working both circus and our relationship in life starts getting more complicated through the years. We have to separate the work and the life. If we have some issues or some problems, we cannot let our personal life affect our professional life.

Gerardo: Some of the first advice our coach ever gave us was to be patient with each other, both in our professional life and in our personal life.

What happens if you’re having a bad day?

Michelle: Just breathe and turn the page.

Tell me about the acrobatic techniques you use in your act. A lot of it is what’s called hand-to-hand — where Gerardo balances Michelle using only your hands — is that right?

Gerardo: Yeah.

Michelle: I came from ballet. I did ballet when I was young, and he did juggling and acro [acrobatic gymnastics], so we use these disciplines. Also, in the hand-to-hand, we like to put dance in the act.

Gerardo: Juggling for me now is juggling people rather than objects.

One person in particular, right?

Gerardo and Michelle: [Both laughing.] Yeah.

It’s astonishing to watch the two of you together. Are your acts created with a choreographer or do you make them up yourself?

Michelle: We created our own acts since the beginning. We had our own material before joining 7 Fingers, and we were hired because of the material we created together as independent artists.

Was the show about Romeo and Juliet before you were found, or did they create the show around you?

Michelle: The show was not created for us or because of us, but we had a lot of material that was relatable to the idea and the concept of the show before we joined the cast.

You seemed so central to that show, the definitive Romeo and Juliet in that world.

Gerardo: When we were hired, we started working very closely with the director of the company, Shana Carroll, and she was the one who started shaping all the material into what you saw on stage

During the run of the show, does your performance change from night to night, or is it set?

Michelle: We do the same act every night, every show, because for us it is easier for the mind.

How do you prepare for a performance?

Michelle: We have a three-hour show call, and we warm up the body, go through the tricks that we do in the act. Also, if something in the show was not stable, we go through that.

Gerardo: I always do strengthening, and I work on my flexibility, articulations, and stuff like that. And then right before going on stage, I tell myself, Okay, now I’m not Gerry anymore, I am Romeo. And Romeo cannot make mistakes. Romeo has to be aware of what the show is.

As an audience member, I remember watching with both enormous admiration and also some anxiety: What if something goes wrong? I don’t know if you can feel that audience excitement.

Gerardo: Yeah, we can definitely feel the energy of the audience and all the emotions you’re going through, and that motivates us to keep on doing it.

How does the audience’s reaction feel to you while you’re performing?

Michelle: I can sometimes hear expressions during the act, like gasps, and for me, that’s like, Oh, you are doing a great job.

Gerardo: I feel electricity whenever something goes the way that I was planning, and I get chicken skin feeling the emotion and the energy from the audience.

I don’t mean to darken this conversation, but what if something does go wrong?

Gerardo: With the passing of the years, we’ve been able to create a strong enough connection to understand each other without necessarily having to speak. So in the case of something going wrong during the act, we’ve known how to fix it, and we trust each other enough to know that the other person is going to be doing the right thing, and there is always going to be someone down to catch Michi if it’s needed.

I see a lot of theater, a lot of dramatic plays, and I’ve never seen a work on stage that conveys trust between two people in a couple more vividly or more viscerally than your performance in Duel Reality. I don’t think there’s ever been anything written in a playscript that comes anywhere close. You seem to know something about communication and trust in a relationship that would benefit other couples.

Gerardo and Michelle: Thank you. Thanks so much.

So I ask this question humbly: What’s your advice to other couples about trust and mutual dependence?

Gerardo: The same advice our coach gave us at the beginning: a lot of trust, a lot of patience.

Michelle: It is like two bodies, one mind. We have to think the same. We have to be one.

Has anyone ever asked you: What’s your secret?

Gerardo and Michelle: [Laughing] Yeah. Yes.

Michelle: We have the same goal. I know other couples who do the same discipline, and maybe it’s like, I’m fine here. And the other person is like, Oh no, I want to go here. So it’s not balanced. But we have the same goal. We always want to do better. So it’s like we go at the same time, at the same rhythm.

You give a gift to your audience. Your talent and trust together are just thrilling. Is there anything you wish people knew about what you do and who you are?

Gerardo: We would love to tell people that we love what we do, and that same love that we have for our passion and what we enjoy can also be transmitted to the audience that comes to see the show.

That’s lovely. And all the best to you. Thank you. You’re just an extraordinarily wonderful couple.

Michelle: Thank you. Thank you for this interview.

Duel Reality plays through July 20, 2025, presented by Shakespeare Theatre Company at Harman Hall, 610 F Street NW, Washington, DC. Tickets ($35–$106) are available at the box office, online, by calling (202) 547-1122, or through TodayTix. Youth tickets are available to all persons 17 and under for $35 with the purchase of an adult ticket, by phone only. 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.

Running Time: Approximately 75 minutes with no intermission.

The Asides program for Duel Reality is online here.

Gerardo Gutiérrez
Born and raised in Mexico City, Gerardo began his passion for the circus at age 15 with juggling and floor acrobatics. At 22, he entered Mexico City’s Cirko de Mente diploma program, graduating in floor acrobatics and hoop diving. After four years of hand-to-hand training at Cirko de Mente with his partner Michelle Hernandez, the two began working in circuses, television shows, festivals, and more in their country, and have worked abroad in Canada, Germany, and Austria. In 2022, they joined The 7 Fingers and Virgin Voyages’ cruise show Duel Reality in the roles of Romeo and Juliet.

Michelle Hernandez
Michelle was born and raised in Mexico City. Her lifelong passion for dance led her to graduate in ballet from Mexico City’s National Institute of Fine Arts in 2012 and then drew her to the circus arts. She began training with aerial apparatus such as canvas and ribbons. A year later, she and her partner Gerardo Gutiérrez trained in hand-to-hand at Cirko de Mente in Mexico City. Michelle and Gerardo have worked with circus companies, TV shows, and festivals in their country and abroad, and in 2022, joined The 7 Fingers and Virgin Voyages’ cruise show Duel Reality as Romeo and Juliet.

SEE ALSO:
In ‘Duel Reality’ at STC, a ‘Romeo and Juliet’ that makes you go ‘woah!’ (review by Zoe Winsky, July 4, 2025)
International circus artists of ‘Duel Reality’ to arrive in DC at STC on July 1 (news story, June 18)
Shakespeare Theatre Company announces ‘Duel Reality’ (news story, November 18, 2025)

The post The real-life duo in ‘Duel Reality’ at STC get personal about trust appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

There’s an alternate universe of reasons to see A Wrinkle in Time, the musical adaptation of Madeleine L’Engle’s beloved classic now playing at Arena Stage. As my colleague Sophia Howes wrote in her review, the production is “sumptuous, original, and full of visual and aural delights.”

A Wrinkle in Time is also, notably, a “girl-powered” musical — the central protagonist is Meg, a girl in seventh grade, and the show has an all-woman creative team (book by Lauren Yee, music and lyrics by Heather Christian, directed by Lee Sunday Evans, choreography by Ani Taj). It was in this rarefied context that a particular performance stood out for me: Nicholas Barrón as Calvin, a 14-year-old basketball player who befriends Meg. What struck me was that contrary to all the misogynist precepts of the malignant manosphere into which such a teen’s conscience might today vanish, Calvin, in Barrón’s sensitive portrayal, appears the very model of a boy who on principle could be a true friend to a girl. Intrigued, I asked to talk with Barrón about that, and he generously opened his heart (over Zoom, in a conversation here edited for length and clarity).

John Stoltenberg: What impressed me about your performance in A Wrinkle in Time was your charismatic expressivity. It was extraordinary.

Nicholas Barrón: Well, thank you so much.

You seemed to emanate a glow of animate emotion from within. And the character you made real, that teenage basketball star Calvin, fascinated me. Throughout your performance, your character is movingly and transparently supportive of Meg and her quest to find her father, a brilliant scientist who’s lost in the fifth dimension. And we, the audience, can read Calvin’s faithfulness, loyalty, and dedication in every flicker of your face. To my mind, Calvin comes across as an exemplar of how a boy can be a solid friend to a girl.

I totally agree.

And I was curious to know: how does an actor-singer of your caliber create such an indelible character in an original show? So let me begin by asking: who is Nicholas Barrón, and how did you get to the Arena Stage in DC?

I was born and raised in San Antonio, Texas. I lived there my entire life until I went to college. I found myself and found what I love to do in community theater. I hadn’t really played sports much growing up. I was trying to find a place to put all my energy. I think my parents were trying to find that too, so they put me and my two older sisters into theater. I did Fiddler on the Roof when I was nine years old. I fell in love with it and since then I’ve been performing in any show or any gig or any singing thing that I could get my hands on because I discovered that it was what I loved to do so much, and it made me feel so amazing. And I discovered a little later that, like, oh, I’m actually kind of good at this. I could make something of this.

In high school, I competed in my regional program for the National High School Musical Theatre Awards, the Jimmy Awards. And that in itself was such a crazy experience. I was there with almost 100 other kids who had just competed in the same thing that I had. And they were so talented and so kind and so sweet. And I was lucky enough to win the [2022] Jimmy Award [for Best Performance by an Actor], which was crazy. I mean, as a theater kid, you don’t expect that to happen. I was so shocked but so, so excited about it. And it opened up so many new opportunities for me.

I finished my senior year online so I could move to New York and start auditioning. I trained as an operatic tenor for a year and loved it. And pretty soon after that, I booked the revival of Ragtime at New York City Center. I was in the ensemble, and I understudied Younger Brother. That’s coming to Broadway this spring, which is very exciting. And I’ll be doing the same role, which I cannot wait.

That was such a formative and beautiful, crazy experience. It was my first professional contract, and I felt so lucky to be there and also so terrified, and that was my experience coming into Arena Stage. I went in for the show [A Wrinkle in Time] in December. I didn’t know until I got into the audition room how special, different, and weird it was. Singing the music in front of the creative team for the first time was exciting, surprising, and special. I got the call right before March that I had booked Calvin, and I was so excited, and I’ve been here for two months now working on the show.

What’s the rehearsal and performance experience been like for you here?

It’s been really, really wild. I’ve never done a brand-new show before. It was like a living, breathing thing. It was very, very cool. And I think we made something pretty spectacular with it.

What was your first take on Calvin, and who is he to you?

I was honestly intimidated by the idea of creating a character out of thin air. The book, the adaptation, was what I went by the most. And given the script, I wanted to create a character that felt human and relatable and fun and supportive, like you said. His support is such an important and driving force in Meg’s story; I wanted that to come across more than anything. So much of what you see from Calvin, I developed in rehearsal and in performances, like this humor he has — and these complicated, maybe romantic, maybe just very, very sweet and pure friendship feelings he has for Meg. We didn’t quite know where those were going to land in rehearsals. And so, really being able to find his sensitivity and his warmth has been the most important thing for me to be able to craft this character in the way that I have.

What is A Wrinkle in Time about from the point of view of Calvin?

I was asked a similar question in a talkback. We had a bunch of middle schoolers, and I said I think it’s about finding the parts of yourself that you thought were problems or negatives and harnessing them to their full power and making them something beautiful, something to be proud of, and using your faults as your gifts. Calvin is able to observe that in Meg, but he’s also a character who starts with this gift of communication. He has this warmth. He has this humor. He has the gift that Meg doesn’t have of getting people to like him and having that charm.

Can I tell you when I first started to like him?

Please, yeah.

Very early in the show, there’s this point where Meg and Calvin first meet. It’s a basketball practice. And Calvin offers to be her partner when no one else wants to. Then he admits and admires that she knows the answers in math.

Yeah.

What did that mean to you to say you were breaking ranks with the team members who wouldn’t step forward, and you were admiring her math skills? I thought that was the most perfect beginning for a character arc.

Yeah, it’s so special. So many people see themselves in Meg, as so many people have felt like an outsider, like they don’t really belong. And I think what we all wish would happen is the best-case scenario of somebody coming up to you and just being a human being with you and being honest with you and being open with you.

I think that that’s what Calvin is able to give Meg in that moment. And I love the way that Taylor [Iman Jones] plays it. It’s so brilliant because she’s like, why are you doing that? That’s not the way things work here. I think it does very smartly establish Calvin as a character who is going to break ranks a bit. But also, he sees it as an opportunity to get to know somebody better beyond this surface level of, oh, I play basketball, and I’m new, and you all like me for one reason or another.

Calvin says he has “compulsions.” How do you understand that?

I think it’s this overwhelming idea of believing that he’s right for wanting to take action. That’s a very powerful thing to write from a children’s point of view. When I was 14, I don’t feel like I took any of my feelings as seriously as these three kids do [Meg, her brother Charles Wallace, and Calvin]. I was like, I’m just a kid, and what can I do? And what action am I gonna take that’s really gonna change things? Everything feels so big when you’re that age; everything feels so monumental. But it’s hard to trust yourself. And I think that Calvin is such a great example of believing in the things that he feels. Which I also think is so huge for young boys to see. And I think that Calvin truly being a character of emotions and feelings and deep internal thought is so special. And very different, honestly. I think it’s a brave approach to take for a 14-year-old character who’s a boy. And I’m so glad we went that direction. And I’m glad that I get to play that.

So much of Calvin in the show is clearly coming from you. I read the script, and we don’t learn a lot about Calvin from it. He asks a bunch of plot-clarifying questions, which is appreciated, but the point at which he takes effective action is one big moment when he dramatically intercedes in the story on Meg’s behalf. He says, “Meg will die if she doesn’t get help, so let me try.” And he communicates with the Beasts. That’s Calvin’s big scene — where everything you’re talking about comes to fruition in terms of acting on his feelings and compulsion and his intuition and being brave.

Yeah, what I love about that arc and Calvin finding his strength there is that it all comes back to words for him. It all comes back to communication and being able to express himself in a way that others understand him, which I think is something that Meg struggles with so much. And to have him have all of these tools and not quite know how to use them. I think being given this challenge of, all right, most people in my life seem to like me, seem to understand some surface level idea of me, and I’m able to exist in this world pretty easily by other people’s standards. How do I use these tools to overcome the biggest hurdle I’ve ever had in my life, which is talking to these nine-foot-tall Beasts that are coming at me and don’t speak my language?

The way I initially approached that was like, I think this is the first time Calvin has been scared in this story. And then as we got into rehearsals and as we were working that scene and the scenes around it, I was like, no, no, no. I think it’s important that all the kids are acting as children and are afraid of these big new things all the time. He’s afraid to be on a different planet. He’s afraid to see these new people, to have these scary workers in your face trying to find important information on a strange new planet. I think that his experience with the Beasts is his most important moment of being afraid in the show. Because it’s the moment where he decides that his love for Meg and his desire for connection is stronger than his fear. And I think that that’s such a beautiful way to write an arc, and I found a lot of joy and meaning in playing that, because I think it’s so unique, so special.

In an interview you did a couple of years ago with Raven Snook, you were open about your physical disability, and I’d like to ask if you would be okay talking about it.

Sure, absolutely.

To my mind, the incidental fact of your physical disability only deepened what seemed so profoundly noble and exemplary about your portrayal of Calvin. Have you thought about that, and were there discussions about that?

Yeah, there were very thoughtful discussions at the very beginning of the process, looking at how that played, between me and our amazing director, Lee Sunday Evans, and we talked about how, as you said, this incidental factor would play into Calvin. In my work and in the characters that I play, I like for my disability to be an afterthought or not a thought at all. I think that trying to fit my own individual lived experiences into a character that has nothing to do with me beforehand is tough. It’s a lot of energy spent on something that I don’t find to be too important.

You know, I think that people who exist the way that I do and walk the way that I do, they’re everywhere. I’m walking on the street, and people see me and can say, Oh, this person exists, exists differently than I do. And they can go about their day. And so I think that conversation of Calvin, whether or not he has a physical disability in the same way that I do, I don’t find it completely interesting. I think it’s very interesting to think of audience reaction to it, specifically children. That’s why I love doing the show so much, because never have I had any kids in the audience wonder about the logistics of a person with a disability being on the basketball team, which I love. I love that that hasn’t been a conversation because to them, they’re watching a story and they’re seeing something fantastical and something important. And I think that it’s such a testament to children’s imagination that they don’t think about it in the same way that adults do.

I’ve had people ask me about the disability and any limitations that I might have. And I want to just say, like, it is such an important part, I feel, of who I am and has been such an important part of my identity for such a long time, just as a person. It’s very integral to the way I think about my lived experiences. But I never want to put that on a character who hasn’t earned that line of thought. And I think that for Calvin, his experiences and what he deals with are so much more internal than they are external.

In that same interview, Raven Snook asked you if there’s any advice you got from one of your coaches that has stuck with you and you quoted your mentor and friend, Desi Oakley, who told you, as you recalled, “all you have is yourself and what you can bring to the material. Don’t be afraid to live in yourself and love yourself.” You seem to have stuck to that advice. Is there anything you would add now that you wish your younger self had known?

I think a small addendum I would maybe make to that is when creating things, I think the most important experiences that you can draw from are your own. But what I’ve learned especially from this experience is that you have yourself and you also have everyone else around you who are there to create the same thing that you are and you have that support and you have that love and you have that care if you’re lucky, and I’ve been extremely lucky with this company; they’ve all been so supportive.

What I love about the way we’ve adapted this story is that we’ve kept in the true stakes, which are from some point in Act One to the end of the show, these children are in real danger. They’re in real peril. And the stakes are real for them. And so we have to hold on to each other and our care for each other. And what saves us is the love that we have for each other. And I feel that very much onstage and offstage. So I think, yes, to completely agree with that quote from a couple of years ago, I think that taking yourself and caring for yourself and using all the things that you have inside to create is so important and will always be the main thing, but also not being afraid to lean on other people and know that other people have you, because they do, and they’re here for the same thing that you are.

Your role as written and performed reimagines, it seems to me, the concept of boy hero on stage, how to be a true friend with no agenda except to be a stalwart ally. There are many reasons to see A Wrinkle in Time, but your performance is definitely among them because it so perfectly portrays the possibility for expressing empathy, loyalty, and allyship on stage. And it seems to me by implication, all that could translate to real life. I hope people see your extraordinary performance as Calvin, and take from it what’s so exemplary. Thank you for that, for channeling that.

Thank you so much for saying that.

A Wrinkle in Time plays through July 20, 2025, in the Kreeger Theater at Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater, 1101 6th St SW, Washington, DC. Tickets start at $69 plus applicable fees. Purchase tickets online, through the Sales Office by phone at 202-488-3300, Tuesday–Sunday, 12-8pm; or in person at the box office Tuesday–Sunday, 2 hours prior to a performance. Tickets are also available at TodayTix. Groups of 10+ may purchase tickets by phone at 202-488-4380.

Running Time: Two hours and 40 minutes, including one intermission.

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 for A Wrinkle in Time is downloadable here.

COVID Safety: Arena Stage recommends but does not require that patrons wear facial masks in theaters except in designated mask-required performances. For up-to-date information, visit arenastage.org/safety.

SEE ALSO:
Brave daughter saves dad in sumptuous new musical ‘A Wrinkle in Time’ at Arena (review by Sophia Howes, June 30)
Arena Stage announces cast and creative team for ‘A Wrinkle in Time’ (news story, May 2, 2025)

The post A boy hero reimagined: Nicholas Barrón on his role in ‘Wrinkle in Time’ at Arena appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

The playwright Aurora Real de Asua, when asked by an interviewer to tell a bit about herself, replied, “I am a surfer, performer, and writer” — putting surfer first. As evidenced by the play she wrote called Wipeout (surferspeak for a wave-tossed tumble and plunge underwater), she knows a lot about the sport. So dedicated to surfing is she that her script sets the scene in the Pacific Ocean, where its four characters are afloat the entire time on foam surfboards, pretending to paddle through all their blocking and entrances and exits.

Absent a movie-set wave tank, it’s hard to picture how Wipeout’s aqueous locale might be persuasively represented in performance. Previous stagings have had actors skootching around on surfboards mounted on casters with seascape projections in the background. The play is one of a series of National New Play Network Rolling World Premieres, and the regional debut now at Studio Theatre is not like that at all. Here, Wipeout is directed with striking emotional depth by Danilo Gambini, whose production concept is utterly counterintuitive: There are no surfboards. No sea can be seen. The entire play takes place inside a beach house (tastefully designed by Jimmy Stubbs in shades of taupe and tan with furniture made of rattan).

I’ll admit I approached the matinee I saw with some doubt about whether Aurora Real de Asua’s surreally sea-set story would land on land. Much to my surprise, I left the theater having enjoyed overwhelmingly a hilarious and shattering show. Hilarious, because most of the play is laugh-out-loud funny (about which, more later). Shattering, because as the play’s metaphorical title portends, a person can suffer a catastrophic stroke of bad luck and falter and collapse.

It’s the people in de Asua’s play who make Studio’s production so compelling, not the improbability of its place. Three spunky women, best friends since high school and now of a certain age (late 60s to early 70s), have gathered to celebrate a birthday and take a surfing lesson — from a 19-year-old surfer dude. (Cue the cougar jokes.) The script has not been altered to reference or fit this House Beautiful setting. The characters banter, bicker, and pretend at surfing as if afloat at sea all the while indoors (a circular table centerstage platforms the most performative moves). Within minutes, we catch this aesthetic’s drift, becoming captivated by these three golden girls’ athletic antics, unsisterly sniping, and wrenching revelations. Gambini’s theatrical gamble pays off, creating a comedic mise-en-scène through uncanny collective suspension of disbelief.

What also makes this not-at-sea production concept work so remarkably well is that, as it turns out, the characters’ backstories and interpersonal tensions have the emotional relatability of drawing-room dramedy. Claudia, a contentedly married mother of two grown children, has invited her two best friends to this senior surfing session: Gary, an avid proponent of lesbianism, and Wynn, who is currently divorcing her fourth husband. A lot of snark attacks ensue.

Claudia is a teacher by profession, and Naomi Jacobson thoroughly embodies her welcoming and chipper officiousness and occasional timorousness. Sarcastically, the others think Claudia overstates her marital bliss:

CLAUDIA: Georgie and I love each other in a way that feels satisfying and supportive.
WYNN: You mean he still doesn’t know where your clitoris is?
CLAUDIA: Georgie is very tender towards me. We consider ourselves co-creators of the intimate space.
GARY: Hey, Wynn, know who’s seen more action than Claudia? The inside of my wetsuit.
[Wynn cracks up.]

Wynn, wearing wealth — a sophisticated caftan in contrast to Claudia’s and Gary’s casual beach wear (costumes are by Valérie Thérèse Bart) — has an air of cantankerous imperiousness that Delissa Reynolds totally delivers. Renegade Gary (birthname: Margaret), charging the stage like a wild child on uppers, is the die-hard devotee of the sport (“My whole life I wanted to be a surfer, ever since I was a little girl!,’’ she says more than once), and Katherine Cortez completely captures her complex character arc.

They’ve come together for the fun of it; they goof around like AARP-age adolescents. They vape, they tipple martinis, and like horny sorority sisters, they ogle and rate the butts of nearby guys and revel in references to body parts of all sorts.

WYNN: Are you still seeing that Pamela person?
GARY: Oh hell no. No, that pinto bean has left the taco… I’ve upgraded to a newer model…  Her name is Anika…
CLAUDIA: She’s very kind.
GARY: And wait till you see the bazoombas that come with.

Count on Gary too for one-liners like “The best thing about being a lesbian is you don’t have to fake orgasms anymore.”

At one point early in the play, Gary tells a hilarious story about an encounter with a male high school classmate everyone knew. It ends with all three of them vigorously miming giving blow jobs. (At the performance I saw, the cast and audience mutually lost it.) Then, suddenly, the tide turns, and the play shifts from hilarity to harrowing as we witness a sign of Gary’s decline.

Wipeout has several such comedic-dramatic whiplashes, making it one of the most engrossing new works I’ve seen recently in DC. Gambini’s production also inserts rollicking musical numbers and dance breaks, for instance Alec Ludacka’s spotlit entrance down the Milton Theatre aisle as Blaze wearing a barely-there tank top (branded Santa Cruz Surf Skool) and crooning The Beach Boys’ “Surfin’ U.S.A.”

Even among the three megawatt talents onstage — Jacobson, Cortez, and Reynolds — Ludacka lights up every scene he’s in. His Blaze is a caring guy with a reassuring manner, who knowledgably, patiently, and convincingly teaches surfing 101 in this living room of imaginary water (enhanced with oceanic sounds by Bailey Trierweiler & Uptownworks and light effects by Andrew R. Cissna). Blaze, too, has a backstory: he is caretaker to his mom, an experience in elder empathy that is touchingly apparent in his sensitive instruction. When Ludacka as Blaze says supportively, “Awesome!” you know he truly deeply really means it. When he gives a dazzling display of choreographed this-is-how-it ’s-done surfing, he stops the show. And he acts the hell out of one of the play’s most profoundly moving speeches:

BLAZE: You can’t schedule waves! Waves are alive! The ocean is alive! You can’t schedule something that’s alive! A real surfer works with whatever waves they get. Even if the wave isn’t perfect. It doesn’t matter. It’s your wave. It doesn’t matter if there are better waves somewhere else. There are always better waves somewhere else, who gives a shit? This is your wave. Your wave. You don’t abandon it just cause they break bigger in Hawaii. Or cause it’s hard, cause it doesn’t make you look good, cause it’s not what you want. You show up and you figure it out. You show up. You show up. You show up. You show up.

I’ll not give away the gut-punch ending except to say that throughout, Wipeout’s depiction of aging is both silly and sublime, inspired and inspiring. Ultimately, Wipeout stands as a testament to the sheer dumb-luck survival without which aging doesn’t happen; it stops short. And immersed in Aurora Real de Asua’s entertainingly evocative surfing metaphor, brilliantly reimagined by Danilo Gambini, we are reminded that though we are always thisclose to going under, we can nevertheless be having the exhilarating ride of our lives.

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

Wipeout plays through July 27, 2025, in the Milton Theatre at Studio Theatre, 1501 14th Street NW, Washington, DC. For tickets ($55–$102, with low-cost options available), go online, call the box office at 202-332-3300, or visit TodayTix. Studio Theater offers discounts for first responders, military servicepeople, students, young people, educators, senior citizens, and others, as well as rush tickets. For discounts, contact the box office or visit here for more information.

The program for Wipeout is online here.

COVID Safety: All performances are mask recommended. Studio Theatre’s complete Health and Safety protocols are here.

Wipeout
By Aurora Real de Asua
Directed by Danilo Gambini

CAST
Claudia: Naomi Jacobson
Gary: Katherine Cortez
Wynn: Delissa Reynolds
Blaze: Alec Ludacka

UNDERSTUDIES
Claudia: Caren Anton
Wynn and Gary: Alison Bauer
Blaze: Drew Sharpe

CREATIVE AND PRODUCTION
Set Design: Jimmy Stubbs
Costume Design: Valérie Thérèse Bart
Lighting Design: Andrew R. Cissna
Sound Design: Bailey Trierweiler & Uptownworks
Projection Design: Luis Garcia
Fight and Intimacy Consultant: Jenny Male
Dramaturg: Adrien-Alice Hansel
Production Stage Manager: John Keith Hall
Assistant Stage Manager: Delaney Clare Dunster
Director of Production: Jeffery Martin
Technical Director: Rhiannon Sanders
Casting by Alaine Alldaffer & Lisa Donadio, CSA

The post How to surf indoors, in hilarious and shattering ‘Wipeout’ at Studio Theatre appeared first on DC Theater Arts.