Everyman Theatre closes its season with an enchanting and jubilant adaptation of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Expertly directed with pizzazz by Associate Artistic Director Noah Himmelstein, this must-see production’s novel concept by adapter Gavin Witt is brilliantly realized through the thoughtful work of dramaturg Robyn Quick.

The induction scene begins as four folks (three Resident Company members, Deborah Hazlett, Bruce Randolph Nelson, Jefferson A. Russell, and Natalya Lynnette Rathnam in her Everyman debut) wander onto a foggy stage, which is decorated as an old theater storage space, with some stacked chairs and chandeliers on the floor. What has drawn them back to this uncanny site of their youth? Are they here for a high school reunion? Is this where they performed in high school productions 20-plus years before? They explore the terrain and pick up nostalgic items. As one slips a cassette tape into a dusty old boombox, they begin swaying to Fleetwood Mac’s “Seven Wonders,” warm smiles of past memories lighting their faces. Fairies emerge from the shadows, cast a spell over the four, and lead them offstage and into their magical realm, a stage (beautifully designed by Daniel Ettinger) that evolves into an Art Deco theater wonder, where the geometric designs become the trees of the fairy forest outside of Athens.

The four soon reappear in the first act as Helena, Hermia, Demetrius, and Lysander. The production’s fresh approach—casting four middle-aged actors as the young Athenian lovers—both plays to the strengths of Everyman’s ensemble and creates a beautiful study of nostalgia and how our formative teen years create who we become, whether repressing or heartily embracing youthful desires. (There is precedent for playing with casting ages, such as 82-year-old Sir Ian McKellan playing the youthful Danish prince in Theatre Royal Windsor’s 2021 production of Hamlet.)

This Midsummer hinges on the existential question posed by John Hughes, the director of white, suburban, Midwest, teenage comedies of the 1980s, in The Breakfast Club: “My God, are we gonna be like our parents?”

Nelson is a randy, raunchy Lysander and he finds little comedic tics at every opportunity, such as when he bests a foe using only the auburn locks of his wig (Denise O’Brien’s fantastic wigs top many heads in this play). Hazlett offers pathos as the dismissed Helena who still pines for Demetrius and follows at his heels like a spurned spaniel. Russell is a feisty Demetrius, always ready for a brawl. And Rathnam shines as Hermia, a little spitfire with a black fringed bob and a canary-colored dress, who speaks in an affected manner, overstressing the heroic rhymes of this poetic comedy to great effect. They quite literally throw themselves on one another in wooing scenes, and the slapstick fighting among the four even includes that worst fate of middle school arguments: purple nurples. The follies of youth extend well beyond the teen years, showing that our deepest fears and desires don’t really grow and evolve. What fools these (middle-aged) mortals be!

The production offers time travel by interpolating music that would’ve been popular when the lovers were at prom or starring in their high school Shakespeare production in the 1980s: pop songs by the likes of David Bowie and Janet Jackson and from the era’s film soundtrack standards (Dirty Dancing, Labyrinth) punctuate scene changes, the cast dances and lip syncs to Jefferson Starship, and Puck plays an acoustic guitar and Rickrolls the crowd by singing Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up.” We all know the power of a favorite song to bring us back to a first kiss, slow dance, or breakup, and the sound design by Pornchanok Kanchanabanca plays with aural nostalgia with aplomb.

The delightfully ingenious costumes for the Athenian lovers by David Burdick also hint at prom attire (cummerbunds, formal menswear worn with Converses, or Hermia’s dress covered by a zipped hoodie and backpack) without becoming too literal or looking silly on the adult cast. (Likewise, Burdick’s costuming is smartly themed across the production from the Rude Mechanicals’ penchant for denim, the fairies dressed like children putting on all their favorite, neon-colored mismatched pieces and tutus at once, the beautiful regal wear of the two royal couples, and Puck’s fringed trousers that hint at a faun’s shaggy goat legs.)

The world of the fairies where the lovers find themselves is a place of magic but also menacing. As the royals—both the divine fairies Titania and Oberon, and the Athenian king Theseus and his Amazon bride Hippolyta—Andreá Bellamore and René Thornton Jr. (both in their Everyman debuts) are regal and beautiful, but also petty, jealous, petulant, and sometimes cruel. Zack Powell brings all the zaniness and mayhem as the mischievous sprite Puck, dashing across the stage, flashing a brilliant smile, strumming his guitar, and gracefully climbing the stage’s scaffolding.

There is magic galore—love potions, time stopping, sleights of hand, and more (Aja M. Jackson’s exquisite lighting design, original music by Kanchanabanca, quick-paced choreography by Shalyce Hemby, and Lewis Shaw leading intimacy and fight sequences) add to this mystical world. This leads to a sense of darkness and danger: the fairies’ feud has led to a climate catastrophe, the lovers are manipulated and humiliated before pairing off into couples again, Bottom is transformed into a donkey, and even Puck expresses fear of haunted spirits in the woods. And can one ever really forgive Oberon for his cruel trick against Titania in making her engage in bestiality and also stealing her adopted son (portrayed by a sympathetic puppet), the child of a dead beloved friend?

Titania’s train of playful and bewitching spirits played by Suzanna Catherine Fox, Helen Hedman, Hanah Kelly, and James Whelan double as the incredibly funny Rude Mechanicals, and Tony Nam leads the acting troupe as the bombastic but good-natured Bottom. Only the second Shakespeare production for Everyman, this particular play with its focus on an acting troupe aligns so beautifully with the rarity of Everyman Theatre’s resident acting company. These actors develop trust and relationships by working together so often, and anticipate each other’s movements and choices so deeply. It’s always a joy to see how much fun they seem to have in each other’s company.

A highlight of any Midsummer worth its weight in pixie dust is the final play-within-a-play, and this one’s no exception. Fox is a naughty Flute/Thisbe who gyrates every time she mentions Ninus’ tomb; Kelly brings big musical theater kid energy to her role as the plucky playwright Quince/Moonshine; Whalen plays the role of Snout/Wall “most obscenely”; and Hedman is a “harmless necessary cat” (to quote Merchant of Venice) as Snug, which is comically unfortunate as she should embrace the role of a roaring, fearful Lion. There are so many mishaps in their “Pyramus and Thisbe”—misplaced swords, bad blockings, forgotten lines, and a tumble down the stairs—that someone must’ve said the Scottish thane’s name before they took the stage.

The induction scene is frameworked by a series of subtle and un-magical transformations back into the real world—through an onstage costume change, Titania and Oberon turn into Hippolyta and Theseus; Bottom’s donkey head is removed; the fairies take the stage in their all too mortal forms as the Rude Mechanicals; and even the charming Puck becomes the bumbling, bookish Philostrate. But the lovers all seem renewed, refreshed, and younger than in the beginning of the play. As the whole ensemble dances to another Fleetwood Mac classic, “Gypsy,” the entire theater is lit up with festooned lights and chandeliers. And that—the entire process of stopping two hours in the real world, entering a spectral, fantastical place, leaving renewed and transformed by others who also went on the same weird, wild journey—is magical, too.

In The Breakfast Club, the question posed—“My God, are we gonna be like our parents?”—elicits shock and denial from the group of rebellious teens. No one wants to grow up, to care more about retirement funding than romance, to become boring and dull and old. Allison (Ally Sheedy) concedes, “It’s unavoidable, it just happens. … When you grow up, your heart dies…” This wonderful and joyous production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is so lovely, lively, and magical that it disproves those teenage fears.

Running time: Two hours with a 15-minute intermission.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream plays through June 9, 2024, at Everyman Theatre, 315 West Fayette St., Baltimore, MD. Purchase tickets ($29–$75) online or contact the box office by phone at 410-752-2208 (Monday–Friday, 10 a.m.–4 p.m., and Saturday, 12-4 p.m.) or email boxoffice@everymantheatre.org.

Accessibility: Everyman emphasizes their commitment to accessibility for all, including those with economic challenges, with Pay What You Choose prices.

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

COVID Safety: Masks are encouraged, though not required. Everyman’s complete health and safety guide is here.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream
By William Shakespeare
Directed by Noah Himmelstein

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Think back on what you were taught in U.S. history classes, especially in your younger years. Probably a lot of downright lies, like the old fabricated story of Washington chopping down a tree and telling the truth about it. But how many of us were not taught that the so-called Founding Fathers who championed equality for all men were also slave owners? (And state legislation in places like Florida ensures these complicated truths are not explored in classrooms.) Histories that center the experiences and lives of those who were enslaved, exploited, and abused, and stories of resistance and rebellion in the Land of the Free… we don’t learn those narratives that create a fuller portrait of American history in our textbooks.

This is the thesis of the world-premiere Mexodus, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, onstage through April 7 at Baltimore Center Stage and from May 16 to June 9 at Mosaic Theater. This exhilarating theatrical experiment traces an erased history and sets it to a hip-hop-inflected score.

Quijada and Robinson researched a lesser-known Underground Railroad that led south to Mexico. After Mexico fought for its independence from Spain in 1821, the territory of Texas (formerly Mexico) was a contested site for several decades. From 1829, when slavery was abolished in Mexico, through 1865, the year of the 13th Amendment, over 4,000 (and up to 10,000) enslaved Black Americans made the arduous journey from the U.S. to Mexico, evading posses in the Texas territories looking for rewards and crossing the deadly Rio Grande, searching for freedom.

As they rap in the opening number and closing reprise, “We didn’t know this shit…. The facts we never learned in history class.” How can we ever move toward a more perfect union without this knowledge?

In Mexodus, they tell the intertwined stories of Henry and Carlos. Robinson plays Henry, a young, enslaved Black man who was ripped away from his mother during his childhood and forced to do hard labor, and who flees to Mexico after killing a slave owner in self-defense. Quijada plays Carlos, with a backstory less well known to most USians: he was a Mexican soldier who fought for and helped secure his country’s independence from Spain, but lost everything — his family, his homestead, his livelihood — in the process, and is now an inexperienced tenant farmer working land owned by someone else and fearful of U.S. invasion. When Henry almost drowns crossing the Rio Grande, Carlos takes him in and they begrudgingly live together, until both a flood and Henry’s fugitive status bring them closer than ever. “Todos estamos juntas en esto, we’re all in this together,” Carlos explains.

In many ways, this is a standard two-hander in a bottleneck situation, but not as conceived and performed by Quijada and Robinson and ably directed by David Mendizábal.

Mexodus is also an electrifying live-looped concert experience.

The deceptively simple stage setup — designed by Riw Rakkulchon — has a large barn door, a string of bare bulbs strung over the orchestra, cotton branches poking through wooden crates, and a variety of old-timey speakers, musical instruments, and audio equipment stacked at either end of the stage. Quijada and Robinson crisscross the stage, picking up and playing various instruments, recording a musical passage or vocal motif into microphones, and stomping on the sound-effect boards scattered across the floors to create and loop the music that they then sing and rap over.

Robinson plays standup bass, piano, keyboard, and trumpet, and sings with a powerful, crystalline voice. Quijada plays accordion, guitar, harmonica, and percussion, beatboxes, sings in a gruff bass-baritone and raps at a lightning pace in both English and Spanish, and remixes everything at a central soundboard, disguised as a wooden crate. Audio engineer Simon Briggs also deserves recognition for his sonic wizardry.

In an extended comic scene, we watch Carlos work on the farm, performing on different percussion instruments, and Henry occasionally joining in by banging on his tin coffee mug. During a threatening storm, Robinson plays the piano and sings his heart out in a moving gospel number while Quijada conjures up a dysphonic storm on his soundboard. And during the opening night showstopper “Henry 2 Enrique,” they teamed up to create a full-on concert experience, rapping together in English and Spanish, and bringing the audience to its feet

It’s a high-stakes gamble to create their own score each evening, but they display a handful of aces, becoming their own full symphony and creating layered, complex tracks. The songs are the American dream of the melting pot, bringing together elements of both traditional and contemporary musical styles based in the U.S. and Mexico: Black spirituals and gospels, R&B harmonies, interpolations from hip-hop classics, Spanish classical guitar, and Mexican folk ballads, in addition to more traditional musical theater style ballads. All of this they perform with not only a technical mastery but an exuberance and joy.

The North Carolina-born DC transplant Robinson shares a personal story partway through the performance, noting that he is living the “wildest impossibilities” of his ancestors. Likewise, the Chicago-born and -based Salvadoran American Quijada shares his first memory of anti-Black racism.

These moments, along with their opening and closing numbers frame the musical as poly-temporal: it’s exploring the past through the hopes and fears of contemporary Black and Latinx Americans. The legacy of slavery and the treatment of people entering the U.S. through Mexico are ongoing and urgent. In their final number, they warn that “Black and Brown bodies continue to be hunted… America forgot she was supposed to welcome all.”

There are a few hiccups in Mexodus: sometimes the recording of the loop (as fascinating as it is to watch) pauses the plot progression or even dialogue; the characters feel more archetypal than fleshed out; and the farewell between Carlos and Henry seems overlong as they say goodbye over three songs. But that does not take away from this innovative and impressive theatrical experience. Head to the theater early to watch the accompanying documentary film playing and to visit the theater’s Indigenous Art Gallery.

Yes, Mexodus is deeply indebted to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton, but it’s all the more powerful for that. If Hamilton leads to a hundred such musicals that sing to today’s audiences while exploring U.S. history through a contemporary lens, offering a brave space for writers, actors, directors, and creatives from underrepresented backgrounds to tell our complex histories, and providing an education in civics, we will all benefit from this. Todos estamos juntas en esto.

 Running time: 85 minutes with no intermission.

Mexodus plays through April 7, 2024, at Baltimore Center Stage, 700 North Calvert Street, Baltimore, MD. For tickets ($39–$74, with senior and student discounts available), call the box office at (410) 332-0033, or purchase them online.

The program for Mexodus is online here.

Mexodus then plays from May 16 to June 9, 2024, presented by Mosaic Theater Company performing in the Sprenger Theater at Atlas Performing Arts Center, 1333 H Street NE, Washington, DC. Purchase tickets ($42–$70) online or from the Box Office at (202) 399-7993 x501 or boxoffice@atlasarts.org from 11 AM–5 PM Monday through Friday, or two hours prior to a performance.

COVID Safety: Baltimore Center Stage’s current policy includes mask-optional performances on Thursdays, Saturday evenings, and Sunday matinees, and mask-required performances on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturday matinees. During those performances, masks may only be removed in designated eating and drinking areas. For more COVID-safety information, please visit here.

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A love of literature, a sense of community and collegiality, a few glasses of wine and a cheese board: these are the essentials of a good book club, but they don’t necessarily make for good drama. But in DC playwright Karen Zacarías’ The Book Club Play directed with warmth and good humor by Laura Kepley, now onstage at Everyman Theatre in Baltimore, the addition of a documentary camera and a new member creates chaos and comedy. It’s a fun, bookish farce for bookworms who want to share a knowing chuckle at a throwaway reference to Ulysses and the perfect play for “the city that reads.”

Ana Smith is the leader of the book club, a successful newspaper columnist who lives her perfect life with her good-natured husband in her beautifully curated home (an aspirational living room library set up in pale blue and cream designed by Andrew Cohen). And there is nothing she loves more in her little fiefdom than her book club. As played by Tuyêt Thį Phåm with exactness and control, Ana believes that book club brings out the best in people, creating community and elevating conversations. Ana has agreed to allow the legendary Danish filmmaker Lars Knudsen (the “K” is emphatically vocalized by all) to film her book club for a documentary that she believes will be screened at Cannes.

The cast — consisting mostly of Everyman’s Resident Company Members — gels well together, showing the sort of trust and rhythms developed by these actors who appear so frequently onstage together. Tony Nam plays Ana’s former college beau and best friend forever, the equally rigid and repressed museum curator William Lee Nothnagel. Megan Anderson plays Jennifer McClintock, a burnt-out paralegal whose long-ago dalliance with a senator has ended her legal career. Zack Powell plays the heartbroken comparative literature professor Alex, who upends group dynamics by suggesting they read bestsellers like The Da Vinci Code, and Bruce Randolph Nelson plays a bevy of documentary drop-in interviews from a fast-talking literary agent to a prison book peddler to a skydiving librarian. Each character played by Nelson becomes more ludicrous with more than a wink at Christoper Guest’s famous comic mockumentaries. There are two non–Company Members who are real scene stealers: Steve Polites plays Ana’s husband, Rob Novum Smith, a pharmaceutical rep with the easygoing demeanor of a golden retriever who only joins the book club for the food and company, and Majenta Thomas — who works in the box office at Everyman — makes her Everyman debut as Lily Louise Jackson, a cool, younger newspaper fact checker who aspires to have her own column… and was invited to join to diversify the book club’s membership.

While Ana hopes that her dear friends will be on their best behavior — if you’ve ever read a book, any book basically — you know this isn’t going to be the case. The camera creates and captures conflicts, more than one unexpected kiss, a coming-out story, a political sexual scandal, microaggressions, casual racism, marital discord, and an utter meltdown during filming.

Over the next six weeks, the group will thumb through six books to discuss together, with projection designs by Kelly Colburn recreating the books’ covers and offering the documentary’s lower thirds. In addition to the fun and salacious interpersonal dynamics, bibliophiles will love the actual scenes where they discuss literature with 30 books interwoven into the dialogue.

Between the selections and their discussions, we see that the group is engaging in some serious bibliotherapy. Jen’s choice of The Age of Innocence — the only book Rob actually reads  — awakens in the genial Rob a sense that something, his “flower of life,” is missing, and Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code inspires Will to share his own big secret. There are debates about what merits great literature and gushing over the joy of pop culture reads. There are sperm whale and dick jokes while discussing Herman Melville’s classic and lamentations that Heathcliff has ruined romance for many straight women (sigh).

As Ana loses control over her book club, she decides to write her own novel/exposé, which becomes the group’s final read. But with this book club book about a book club in a play about a book club, this contemporary comedy reaches a new level of self-referentiality and metatheatricality. It’s also where The Book Club Play loses some of its fun as the characters turn on each other and all literary pretense dissipates, but this good humor is recaptured in the documentary’s “Where are they now” conclusion.

The Book Club Play doesn’t break new ground, but it also doesn’t need to. It’s silly and cozy and comforting all while being clever, too. It’s like curling up with your favorite book, or better yet, discussing it with your five closest friends over wine.

Running Time: Two hours with a 15-minute intermission.

The Book Club Play plays through April 14, 2024, at Everyman Theatre, 315 West Fayette St., Baltimore, MD. Purchase tickets ($29–$75) online or contact the box office by phone at 410-752-2208 (Monday–Friday, 10 a.m.–4 p.m., and Saturday, 12-4 p.m.) or email boxoffice@everymantheatre.org.

Accessibility: Everyman emphasizes their commitment to accessibility for all, including those with economic challenges, with Pay What You Choose prices.

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

COVID Safety: Masks are encouraged, though not required. Everyman’s complete health and safety guide is here.

The post Clever comedy and chaos in ‘The Book Club Play’ at Everyman Theatre appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

The age-old dramaturgical question is always: “Why do this play now?” In the case of The Oresteia — currently onstage at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company and the company’s first foray into Greek tragedy — the answer is fraught if we are looking into an ancient play for contemporary parallels to our own times, our current wars, or our own modern understanding of abstract ideas like justice, vengeance, duty, family, or divinity. The reflection may (or may not) be there but in a highly distorted, fractured mirroring.

Rather we should admire The Oresteia as a window into an ancient, uncanny world of violence, cruelty, and slavery, but also the place where lofty concepts of Western philosophy, drama, and democracy emerged — those that shape our society to this day. There are many truths, as the play concludes in its final lines, and these truths can be contradictory, but that does not make them any less true in this vividly staged and captivating production directed by Lise Bruneau.

Ellen McLaughlin’s beautiful and cathartic adaptation of Aeschylus’ tragic trilogy — Agamemnon, The Libation Bearers, and The Eumenides (458 BCE) — concerns one of the most cursed families in Greek mythology, a family that has flouted all decency and committed acts of familial murder, cannibalism, incest, hubris, and impiety over succeeding generations. In this tragedy, the great commander of the Greek fleet, Agamemnon, King of Mycenae, sacrifices his daughter, Iphigenia, to commence the Trojan War; his queen, Clytemnestra, waits for ten years for her husband’s triumphant return for her revenge. After another decade, their adult son, Orestes, returns to Mycenae and, encouraged by his sister, Electra, seeks to avenge his father’s murder.

It’s a play that works because its horrors are not our own: the gendered vices and virtues are wholly alien; dreams are always prophetic, if the dreamers can decipher the meaning; and the gods are threatening, callous, and petty, making their presence known through their cruel demands and inhumane gifts. That is, it’s all (ancient) Greek to us, and that — along with the rich, lyrical verse and the vulnerable, humanness of the characters — is the beauty of this work.

As Clytemenstra, Isabelle Anderson is marvelous, regal, and nuanced. She can love and hate, and she can burn with a decade-long fire yet act cool and calm upon Agamemnon’s (Stephen Patrick Martin) return. She is a viper who dreams of nursing snakes, a vixen in her series of diaphanous dressing gowns (all designed by Kristina Lambdin), a victim of her husband’s love of honor, and she is vengeance personified. Anderson beautifully embraces all of this, as complex and rich in her choices and delivery onstage as the wine-dark Aegean sea.

There are strong performances by the actors playing the rest of the cursed family, too. Stephen Patrick Martin offers a stoic Agamemnon, who chooses masculine pride over protecting his own family. Young actress Charlotte Molitoris creates a haunting apparition of lost innocence throughout as Iphigenia. Lizzi Albert — always a pleasure in Shakespearean comedic parts — adds almost a bit of levity as the rebellious Electra, flipping the bird at her mother’s back. She is Cinderella with a vendetta, festering with ten years of revenge in her heart. And Isaiah Mason Harvey shines as Orestes, the conflicted heir who returns to claim the legacy left to him, one of unspeakable horrors and impossible choices. Whether acting as the vessel for Apollo, confronting his mother for her crimes, or pleading his case to the household servants-turned-jury, Harvey’s Orestes is deeply human and moving.

Overseeing all of this is the Greek Chorus — Gabriel Alejandro, Hana Clarice, Surasree Das, Lloyd Ekpe, Alie Karambash, Lesley Malin, Dawn Thomas Reidy, and David Yezzi — composed of household servants who quite literally clean up after the royal family, washing away the blood spilled in the house. They also become the frightful Furies chasing Orestes (with the help of strobe lights and dramatic poses) and finally, the jury who must hear Orestes’ case. Comprising all local actors and many of CSC’s most familiar faces including CSC’s producing executive director Malin, the Chorus often moves and then poses in tableaux vivant, asking rhetorical questions about the thornier issues of justice and revenge with overlapping lines and echoing words. Brought back as Agamememnon’s enslaved bride, the captive Cassandra (played by Emily Erickson as a wild-eyed prophetess) does not suffer a collective amnesia about the family’s sordid past: she sees all their generations of evil crimes and foresees her own pathetic ending.

The haunted House of Atreus — the facade of a gray stone palace with red poppies bursting forth — is effectively designed by Kathryn Kawecki. Under lighting designer Katie McCreary’s vision, the palace’s colors shift slightly whether in flashback scenes, turning green with decay, red with anger, or cold blue; when Orestes and Clytemnestra meet — the lights throb subtly with pink hues like a heartbeat or a womb. When Apollo speaks through Orestes or Cassandra, the stunning lighting by McCreary and sound design by Sarah O’Halloran create those moments of divine intervention. Less successful are the polychronic costumes by Kristina Lambdin: Clytemnestra says that walking through the halls one moves in and out of centuries but here it is too literal. Servant costumes range from medieval peasant tunics to Victorian butler and maid livery, and it is jarring when one servant sets down a laptop and Orestes takes off his traveler’s cloak to reveal a gray hoodie, as nothing else indicates a contemporary setting.

The Oresteia was commissioned by Shakespeare Theatre Company as the very last play directed by Michael Kahn at STC before his retirement. In many ways, his operatic direction of the work spoke to his vision for STC — grand classical theater that was momentous and epic in scale, but also intimate, probing, and vulnerable. At CSC, Lise Bruneau’s version has been scaled back, but nothing has been lost in doing so. It is now a family drama writ large, one that does not speak to our times and does not need to. It is its own truth, its own myth, its own tragedy, and it is in the questions it asks about our values that it becomes timeless.

Running Time: Two hours with one 15-minute intermission.

The Oresteia plays through March 10, 2024, at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company, 7 South Calvert Street, Baltimore, MD. Adult tickets start at $55; tickets for youth under 25 start at $28. Subscriptions and tickets can be purchased by calling 410-244-8570, ordering online at ChesapeakeShakespeare.com, or visiting the Box Office in person.

The Oresteia
Freely adapted by Ellen McLaughlin from the tragic trilogy by Aeschylus

CAST
CLYTEMNESTRA – Isabelle Anderson*+
IPHIGENIA – Charlotte Molitoris
AGAMENON – Stephen Patrick Martin +
ORESTES – Isaiah Mason Harvey●
CASSANDRA – Emily Erickson
ELECTRA – Lizzi Albert*
CHORUS – Gabriel Alejandro
CHORUS – Hana Clarice
CHORUS – Surasree Das
CHORUS – Lloyd Ekpe●
CHORUS – Alie Karambash
CHORUS – Lesley Malin*
CHORUS – Dawn Thomas Reidy*●
CHORUS- David Yezzi

UNDERSTUDIES
Lucy Redmon Connell, David Forrer*, Laura Malkus*

ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE TEAM
Director – Lise Bruneau○+
Production Manager – Sarah Curnoles*
Stage Manager – Alexis E. Davis*
Technical Director – Dan O’Brien*
Set Design – Kathryn Kawecki
Lighting Design – Katie McCreary*
Sound Design – Sarah O’Halloran
Music Director – Grace Srinivasan*
Costume Design – Kristina Lambdin*
Props Artisan – Trey Wise
Assistant Director – Lauren Davis*●
Production Associate – Dawn Thomas Reidy*●
Assistant Stage Manager – Tyrel Brown●
Associate Technical Director – Chester Stacy*
Fight Choreographer – Gerrad Alex Taylor*●+
Movement Advisor – Dance & Bmore
Board Operator – Theodore Sherron III
Wardrobe Manager – Harper LaBrozzi
Child Minder – Vanessa Strickland
Covid Safety Officer – Mandy Benedix*
Senior House Manager – Pamela Forton*●○

* CSC Company Member
+ Actors’ Equity Association
○ Stage Directors and Choreographers Society
● Black Classical Acting Ensemble Member

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At this time of year, many of us turn to It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, or A Muppet’s Christmas Carol for warm, fuzzy, happy feelings, but some of us prefer darker or subversive holiday fare: Die Hard, Batman Returns, Gremlins, or Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. If you find yourself in this second category, Everyman Theatre’s production of Dial M for Murder has neither kisses beneath the mistletoe nor goodwill among humankind, but it’s a thrilling, fashionable, and deliciously dark holiday treat for us “bah humbug!” folks, deftly directed by Everyman’s Artistic Director and Founder Vincent M. Lancisi.

Prolific playwright Jeffrey Hatcher adapted Frederick Knott’s famous work in 2022, and with his background in composing a myriad of Sherlock Holmes mysteries for the stage, his pedigree in adapting detective stories with all their deceitfulness, disguises, and dastardly folks shines through in this brilliant Baltimore premiere.

At the center of the tale of suspense is a lurid love triangle, and the title of the play already tells us this will end with at least one less living character. Set in 1952 London at the fashionable home of unhappily wed Margot (Beth Hylton) and Tony Wendice (Tony Nam), the Hitchcock classic has had subtle but meaningful updates.

Neither married for love but the couple is only keeping up the charade for respectability’s sake. Tony is a self-styled “serious writer,” who never succeeded in publishing his own work but is moving up the ranks at a publishing house. He has married Margot purely for her wealth, while she married Tony only to appease her spinster aunt and to inherit the large family trust. Tony’s friend, fellow author Maxine Hadley (Megan Anderson), and Margot have been engaged in a passionate affair. Maxine is an upcoming writer about to release her first, much-anticipated thriller novel—and like all writers, she can only talk about her project and all the time she spent researching murders. (The same-sex affair, too, subtly shines a light on the horrible repercussions of being outed at this time.)

As Maxine and Margot sip bourbons before leaving to attend a “dreadful” mystery play together, the witty writer shares the five major motives for killing: money, jealousy, revenge, fear, and protection of a loved one. The scene is all set for a murder plot to emerge.

Maxine says in the first scene that there may be perfect murders, but even with all her research, she does not know of one: if we know about the crime it has failed to be perfect. A good mystery story may begin with the body and clues, and we slowly piece together the puzzle until the murderer, motive, and method all come into view. Dial M for Murder is a different beast altogether: we know all of the above from the beginning.

Tony is planning his wife’s murder for several of the above reasons, so this play is not a whodunit but a study in cold calculation, suspense, and waiting to see if the characters stay on script in the expected murder plotline. Tony blackmails a ne’er-do-well Cambridge chum, Lesgate (Danny Gavigan), to off his philandering spouse so he can get his paws on her aunt’s fortune. As Tony convinces Lesgate, Nam slowly transforms from using a cane for a fake limp, standing more upright and in charge, and finally swaggering once he shares his nefarious plot of how the murder will go. Gavigan as Lesgate is a two-bit baddie and not nearly as bright as Tony, and we can all but see the gears turning in his head as he tries to follow along.

It seems like a foolproof plot until something unexpected happens … and the plot thickens. In the second act, Maxine and Inspector Hubbard (a quick-witted and inventive Bruce Randolph Nelson) join forces and their particular skill sets to uncover the true nature of the titular murder. If Chekhov has his infamous gun, there are several crucial props throughout the play that incriminate or exonerate: the house’s missing latchkey, a pair of silk stockings, a purloined love letter, and not one but two blackmail letters that keep switching hands. Try keeping track of all these!

On opening night, it was fun to hear audience members whisper their predictions and realizations to one another. And there were more than a few collective gasps at key turning points in the plot.

If you are already a Hitchcock fan, you will really appreciate how this production ably deals with the fact that it’s all a lot of tell and little show. Hatcher’s witty wordplay and Lancisi’s well-paced direction make this thriller, well, thrilling. The self-referential plot has many inside jokes about how murder plots and the conventions of a thriller novel work. (For example, during the murder scene, we hear Maxine in the background discussing her own suspense story on BBC radio.)

And if the story is all new to you: how much more fun it must be!

All three leads are excellent. Nam is charming as the psychopathic (or maybe just opportunistic) Tony; he plays a doting husband to Margot and a good friend/publicist to Maxine, all while knowing of their affair, blackmailing them, and trying to destroy their lives. Hylton plays Margot as a woman who is braver and more resourceful than the social mores at the time allow. While she fears being outed by an unknown blackmailer and is seemingly meek, she also shows her resolve when confronted with danger. And the always captivating Anderson brings wit and worldliness to Maxine, a woman who knows who she is and what she wants, again, at a time when women were not to express their desires, competence, and confidence so openly. They are supported in smaller roles by Gavigan and Nelson, who drive much of the action as the murderer and inspector (both important roles in a murder mystery).

Daniel Ettinger’s mid-century modern set design, David Burduck’s finely tailored suits and women’s dress designs, Megumi Katayama’s sound design and score, Denise O’Brien’s wigs, and Harold F. Burgess II’s lighting design together recreate this fashionable time period with sharp, vintage details. Fight director Lewis Shaw has choreographed a gripping murder scene and Gary Logan served as dialect coach for the British and transatlantic accents.

This holiday season, if you are looking for a little less “God bless us, everyone” but still desire a classic (and one that has infidelity, blackmail, murder, and mayhem), just dial “M” for a marvelous suspense story masterfully performed and directed.

Running Time: Two hours with one 15-minute intermission.

Dial M for Murder plays through January 7, 2023, at Everyman Theatre, 315 West Fayette St., Baltimore, MD. Purchase tickets (starting at $29) online or contact the box office by phone at 410-752-2208 (Monday–Friday, 10 a.m.–4 p.m., and Saturday, 12-4 p.m.) or email boxoffice@everymantheatre.org.

Accessibility: Everyman emphasizes their commitment to accessibility for all, including those with economic challenges, with Pay What You Choose prices.

The cast and creative credits are online here.

The digital program may be accessed here.

COVID Safety: Masks are encouraged, though not required. Everyman’s complete health and safety guide is here.

The post Deliciously dark ‘Dial M for Murder’ thrills at Everyman Theatre appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

‘Tis the season when almost every theater company stages its own adaptation of A Christmas Carol. The challenge is always finding a new way to engage with audiences or adding a unique spin on this chestnut without losing its charm. By looking into local history, this new(ish) version currently onstage at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company—it made its spectacular debut last season—faithfully adapted from Dickens’ novel by Laura Rocklyn and ably directed by CSC member Erin Bone Steele creates a Charm City classic for all ages.

It’s set in 1842, and there are many topical references to historic Baltimore: Scrooge (Gregory Burgess) lives in a set of rooms in a mansion in fashionable Mt. Vernon, while Bob Cratchit (Paul Diem) and his family live in the smaller row homes of Fells Point, and Young Scrooge grew up in nearby Ellicott City, where CSC hosts its summer outdoor theater productions. Even the accounting firm of Scrooge and Marley is set at the intersection of German (now Redwood) and Calvert Streets, the grand home of CSC’s theater and, rather appropriately, once the site of the Mercantile Bank Building. Mollie Singer replicates the brick exterior and majestic arched windows of this very building in the set design with Industrial-era steel and wood for the stairs and sliding warehouse-style doors. The rest of the set remains simple: a large table, several wooden stools, and a small coal stove, but allows us to visit Baltimore factories and even sailors setting off in the harbor, all celebrating Christmas in their own ways, creating community and mirth in dark times.

In “The City That Reads,” holiday parlor games make reference to Baltimorean author Edgar Allan Poe’s gothic tales, and Charles Dickens himself (as played by David Yezzi) makes appearances at the beginning and end of the play.

At the height of his popularity, the 30-year-old author and social activist famously visited the United States in 1842 hoping to find an inspiring republic in the young country that would have righted the wrongs of its motherland. Riding a train across the States, he met with political leaders and presidents, economic and social reformers, fellow writers, artists, and philosophers, but his visits to orphanages, prisons, and plantations with enslaved people dissolved his idyllic view of America.

In this production, Dickens and Mrs. Mary Pickersgill (Katie Rey Bogdan)—a local figure famous for sewing the “star-spangled banner” and her advocacy for women’s social issues—visit Scrooge both before and after his miraculous conversion. Dickens wrote and published A Christmas Carol in 1843, the year after his American sojourn and (within the fiction of this play) his meeting with Scrooge, suggesting that literature’s most famous misanthrope is based on Baltimore’s “bah humbug!” bachelor.

And what a Scrooge we have in CSC member Gregory Burgess! He’s been playing the role of Ebenezer for eight seasons and fully embodies how a man mired in pettiness and greed can be reborn into someone younger, lighter, and full of love. In the beginning of the play, Burgess’ shoulders are hunched, his brow is furrowed, his eyes are squinted, and he barks out monosyllabic grunts at merrymakers.

During his visitations by the three ghosts, he begins to straighten his posture, open his eyes, and become receptive to the lessons to be learned from his past mistakes, his current cruelties, and the haunting visions of what may be. Brendan Edward Kennedy fills up the scene as the bon vivant Ghost of Christmas Present with his furred robe, booming voice, and hearty laugh; Molly Moores is an aristocratic Ghost of Christmas Past in an iridescent Rococo gown and powdered wig all emblazoned with twinkling lights (a costume that brought a round of applause); and three puppeteers (David Yezzi, Samuel Richie, and Shaquan Pearson) maneuver the silently menacing Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come (one of several spooky specters in this production, but not too frightening for Tiny Tims in the audience). In the sequences with his ghostly guides, Burgess says less, but becomes a thoughtful observer and occasionally comments on what he can do to become a better man. In his few brief scenes in the past, Shaquan Pearson as Young Scrooge quietly shifts from a lonely student to an enamored youth to a vision of the coldhearted man he will become, while Burgess plays a Scrooge who quickly softens into a kinder figure.

But it’s on Christmas morning when Scrooge awakens a changed man that Burgess shines: jumping into the air and clicking his heels, shouting with glee, greeting friends with giddy laughter, handing out coins to carolers, and even hugging a confused Charles Dickens.

A Christmas Carol is a story about our duty to care for others, and while Scrooge may be on the outside of society, the large ensemble cast creates a sense of conviviality and kindness, all decked out in Victorian finery—plaids and paisleys, red-ribboned bonnets, and green scarves by costume designer Kristina Lambdin. A group of carolers and townspeople become the chorus, narrating Scrooge’s story and retaining much of Dickens’ wry narrative voice, and offering transitions between scenes through traditional Christmas carols (with nods to music director Grace Srinivasan, composer Sarah O’Halloran, choreographer Shea Hemby, fiddler Ellie Cattle, and standout soloists Brandon Shaw McKnight and Lauren Davis for their musical contributions).

Lauren Davis as Frances, Scrooge’s ever-optimistic and indefatigable niece, is a radiant presence of grace and generosity. Paul Diem and Lauren Erica Jackson are nicely paired as Bob and Mrs. Cratchit; as the abused clerk, Diem quietly undercuts his boss’ meanness with looks of sympathy, projects gentleness and warmth in the exchanges with his large family, and looks utterly broken in his grief-stricken future scenes, while Jackson provides a bit of stoicism and disdain as Mrs. Cratchit, rightfully wary of Scrooge’s motives. And Emily Zinski as the hostess with the most Mrs. Fezziwig and Andrea Spitz as Scrooge’s grumbling charwoman are both strong comedic reliefs. Yet these are the kind-hearted, generous, loving, and sometimes silly folks that Scrooge shut out of his life for so long.

After his visitation, Scrooge has his famous epiphany: “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.”

In Chesapeake Shakespeare Company’s A Christmas Carol, it is by turning to a vision of Baltimore’s past that this production creates a strong adaptation that will continue to enchant local audiences for generations to come.

Running Time: Two hours with one 15-minute intermission.

A Christmas Carol plays through December 23, 2023, at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company, 7 South Calvert Street, Baltimore, MD. Adult tickets start at $55; tickets for youth under 25 start at $29. Subscriptions and tickets can be purchased by calling 410-244-8570, ordering online at ChesapeakeShakespeare.com, or visiting the Box Office in person. For more information or to purchase tickets, click here.

The program for A Christmas Carol is online here.

A Christmas Carol
Adapted from Charles Dickens by Laura Rocklyn
Directed by Erin Bone Steel

CAST
Gregory Burgess* – Ebenezer Scrooge
Katie Rey Bogdan – Mrs. Pickersgill/Businessperson 3
Morganne Chu – Belle
Lauren Davis* – Frances
Paul Diem – Bob Cratchit
Lauren Erica Jackson – Mrs. Cratchit
Brendan Edward Kennedy – Christmas Present/Joshua
Brandon McKnight – Dick Wilkins/Horace/Business Person
Molly Moores* – Ghost of Christmas Past/Louisa/Businessperson 2
Samuel Richie – Jacob Marley/Nicholas
Andrea Spitz – Mrs. Dilber
Shaquan Pearson – Young Scrooge/Topper
David Yezzi – Mr. Fezziwig/Charles Dickens
Tiffany Zeigler – Martha Cratchit/Harriet/Betsy
Emily Zinksi – Mrs. O’Leary/Mrs. Fezziwig/Nancy

YOUTH CAST
Kynnedi Curtis – Want/Little Fan
Mckenzie Nace – Belinda Cratchit/German Caroler Child
Ryan Macdonald – William/Peter
River Robinson – Tiny Tim/Ignorance
Bowie Walker – Tiny Tim/Ignorance
Tiffany Zeigler – Want/Little Fan

CREATIVE TEAM
Erin Bone Steele* – Director
Sarah Curnoles* – Production Manager
Kris DiBastiani – Production Stage Manager
Dan O’Brien* – Technical Director & Facilities Manager
Mollie Singer – Set Designer
Grace Srinivasan* – Music Director
Kristina Lambdin* – Costume Designer
Kaite McCreary* – Lighting Designer
Sarah O’Halloran – Sound Designer
Caitlin Bouxsein – Props Designer
Chris Reuther – Puppet Designer
Shalyce Hemby – Choreographer
Hannah Brill – Wardrobe Supervisor & Wig Consultant
Cat Moreschi – Assistant Stage Manager
Dawn Thomas Reidy* – Production Associate
Tyrel Brown – Production Assistant
Trinity Joseph – Board Operator
Vanessa Strickland- Child Minder
Mandy Benedix* – COVID Safety Officer
Pam Forton* – Senior House Manager

*Member of Chesapeake Shakespeare Company

The post Charm City’s own ‘Christmas Carol’ at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, which local musical enchants and enrages us all? WITCH, produced by Stillpointe Theatre and onstage in Area 405 Gallery in Baltimore, is a wickedly engaging but ultimately slight new musical that fuses the history of witchcraft and contemporary socio-political issues with a strong cast of weird sisters. Directed by Ryan Haase with musical direction by Stacey Antoine, WITCH invites us to join a welcoming coven for the evening.

The industrial space–turned–stage conjures up the right mood: nicely designed and lighted by Haase with a large central cauldron, many candles, a scattering of leaves, blue and green-tinted lighting, and broomsticks affixed to the walls, while the house band (Stacey Antoine, Tanner Shelby, Chanel Whitehead, Joe Pipkin), propmaster Anna Platis, and evocative projections by Ben Pierce all add their own touches of hocus pocus.

It’s in this safe and sacred feminine space where we learn the stories of six historical witches.

There is a trio of women all accused during the height of witchcraft hysteria in the U.S. colonies, c. 1680s–90s: the Maryland legend of Moll Dyer (Amber Wood with a great rock voice), Mary Webster (a winsome Sarah Burton), and Rebecca Nurse (Christine Demuth). Despite what a former, twice-impeached president who is currently charged with 91 felonies and lost the popular vote twice may say… we may not actually be witnessing the greatest witch hunt of all time whenever we turn on the evening news. (And if you don’t like that comparison, then WITCH is not the play for you.)

The lamenting song “Innocent” takes almost verbatim the words of Rebecca Nurse’s self-defense during her witch trial as she articulates her piety and her innocence, her love of her God, family, and community. (Greedy neighbors hurled the charges against the well-respected grandmother over a property dispute.) As Demuth sings the plaintive and touching hymn, the names of victims of the Salem Witch Trials scroll across a moon-like screen behind her.

The story of actress and educator Margaret Hamilton (Rachel Blank, a strong belter) — best known for her iconic portrayal of the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz — begins to explore how her long career has been reduced to one role. Saint Joan of Arc’s (an energetic Caitlin Weaver) trial for heresy and witchcraft is comically depicted as a rigged game show, complete with a ticking clock and buzzer. (George Bernard Shaw’s nuanced Saint Joan, this ain’t.) We are also given the much more recent plight of Ma Hawa (JacQuan Knox, in a promising Stillpointe debut), a Ghanan first wife ousted by her husband’s new spouse and banished to the Gambaga Witch Camp, reminding us that over 1,000 people across the world are formally accused of witchcraft each year.

Through these women’s stories, the musical connects to many contemporary issues: abortion rights, rape culture, sexual objectification, unrealistic beauty standards, and more. “Why is this continually happening?” asks the Supreme Witch. Why, indeed?

Each witch’s story is introduced by such an acronym — “Why isn’t the church honest?” “Women in trouble choose help” — and the various histories are loosely tied together by the Supreme Witch (a riveting Kristen Zwobot), who acts as the play’s narrator, stirring her large cauldron and asking each witch to take centerstage for her number, before throwing an emblematic totem — such as a ring or herbs — into the potion.

Each member of the cast is bewitching in her own right, especially in the haute gothy get-ups designed by Kitt Crescenzo with hair and makeup by Danielle Robinette. (Christopher Kabara performs all the male voices in the play from a raised platform behind the audience.) The strong ensemble is all game to camp it up as needed, belt out some ballads, perform some broomography (choreographed by Haase and Kristin Rigsby), and make us ponder the connections to our own fraught moment in time and the politicized, gendered rhetoric we encounter, from “nasty woman” to “lock her up.”

This may be best exemplified in the jazzy and jaunty political anthem “Sweep Them Out” about the power of voting or the final song “Hung Up,” with its refrain of “Nevertheless she persisted, nevertheless she resisted.”

And that’s nicely connected to the history of WITCH, first conceived of by Matt Conner and Gregory Smith in 2016, as they anticipated the misogyny that the first woman president would receive in her role (and in the case of Hillary Clinton, the decades of vitriol she had already endured). By the time the show first appeared onstage at Creative Cauldron (a very apropos location for many reasons) in 2018, the work also reflected the Women’s March and #MeToo movements. For this production at Stillpointe, Conner and Smith returned to and revised their previous work.

Even in this revised production, the musical still feels a little drafty. The concept is fantastic, but the book is decidedly stronger than the score. Because of the diversity of time periods, character backgrounds, and themes, a greater variety of musical genres and styles could really get this work off the ground. The various histories could be better interwoven with a reprise, and we could spend a little more time with each witch if they had more than one song each. (A few of the songs such as “Pretty,” about beauty standards, and the final few numbers “Crone Song” and “Closing the Circle” are especially strong.) Clocking in at just over an hour, the whole spell ends quicker than someone from Kansas can drop a house on the Witch of the East.

There are also opportunities to create a more inclusive concept of “witch,” considering the lives and stories of practicing witches, challenging white feminists’ reclamation of the term and history of the witch, and bringing in more varied perspectives and performances (such as brujería or queer and trans magick practicing). The term “witch” remains purposely ambiguous in the musical, denoting any woman (and occasional man) who was on the outskirts of society — elderly, disabled, unattractive, or otherwise different enough. They are also healers and protectors, visionaries and saints, and as the play cleverly proves: witches are our neighbors, our mothers, our friends, and ourselves.

In one of the great strengths of this promising flight of fancy, the Supreme Witch asks for audience reflection and participation, such as writing love spells in invisible ink, noting our own accepted superstitious practices, or joining in on choruses. It pulls the audience into the making of magic, the healing powers of sisterhood and representation, and the promise of a brighter future for all witches ahead.

Running Time: 65 minutes with no intermission.

WITCH: A New Musical plays through November 25, 2023, presented by Stillpointe Theatre performing at AREA 405, located at 405 E Oliver St, Baltimore, MD. Purchase tickets ($20–$35) online.

The program for WITCH is online here.

COVID Safety: Masking is optional and Stillpointe Theatre offers masks for patrons who wish to use them during the performance.

WITCH: A New Musical by Matt Conner and Gregory Smith

PRODUCTION TEAM
Ryan Haase:* Director, Set/Lighting Design & Choreographer
Stacey Antoine:* Music Director
Kirstin Rigsby: Choreographer
Danielle Robinette:* Hair and Makeup
Kitt Crescenzo:* Costumes
Ben Pierce: Projections
Anna Platis:* Props
Christine Demuth:* Dramaturg
Kateri:* Program
Nolan Cartwright: Poster

CAST
Amber Wood: Moll Dyer
Caitlin Weaver: Joan of Arc
Christine Demuth:* Rebecca Nurse
Christopher Kabara:* Male Voices
JacQuan Knox: Ma Hawa
Kristen Zwobot: Supreme Witch
Sarah Burton:* Mary Webster
Rachel Blank:* Margaret Hamilton

BAND
Stacey Antoine:* Piano/Conductor
Tanner Shelby: Guitar
Chanel Whitehead: Cello
Joe Pipkin:* Percussion

*Denotes StillPointe Company Member

The post Wickedly engaging new musical ‘WITCH’ casts spell at Stillpointe Theatre appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

In Shakespeare’s comedies, forests are places of transformation, playfulness, love, and healing, an alternative to and inversion of the rigid rules and patriarchal norms that define cities and royal courts. Think of the licentious liberty of the forest outside of Athens in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, or consider the magical island where Prospero lives in The Tempest. But Shakespeare’s forest of Arden in As You Like It may be his most wondrous green world—where an exiled Duke and his royal followers live like Robin Hood and his merry men, where lovelorn shepherds become philosophers and poets, a place of lyricism and love, where there are “tongues in trees… sermons in stones.”

Chesapeake Shakespeare Company (CSC) begins its 21st season with As You Like It directed by the Company’s founding artistic director Ian Gallanar with warmth, humor, and congeniality.

Gallanar’s concept for the production—1940s Francoist Spain—creates a clear binary between the fascist court of the usurping Duke Frederick and the forest of Arden. For those of us who may forgotten the Spanish Civil War and ensuing decades of dictatorship unit in European history class, the expert styling of set (Kathyrn Kwecki), lighting (Jennifer Leon), sound (Gallanar does double duty), costumes (Kristina Lambdin), props (John Bakker), and innovative projections (Mark Williams) all hint at a historic moment and setting, without belaboring the point.

Duke Frederick (a stern and cold Gregory Burgess) rules from the balcony of his Brutalist concrete compound, where his demands and decrees are projected on large screens, creating a Big Brother vibe of surveillance and cowardice. In his royal court, all members wear gray clothing—crisp, gray business suits for the men, and tailored gray dresses for the women.

Frederick’s court is where men deny familial and political duty: Frederick has overthrown his brother Duke Senior and banishes his niece Rosalind, and Oliver de Boys has disinherited his youngest brother Orlando and thrown out his elderly loyal servant Adam (a touching and comic turn by Scott Alan Small). Rosalind and her dearest cousin Celia decide to disguise themselves as a shepherd and his sister for their safety, and Orlando and Adam pack up their meager belongings. All the exiles flee to Arden.

Arden is a polychromatic and musical world, where court and country come together. Green projections of swaying trees and sun-dappled leaves enliven the gray set. Ami Dang’s original compositions blend elements of North Indian classical music with dominant sitar notes. The shepherds and refugees in Arden wear traditional Basque costumes in vibrant hues embroidered with bright flowers and vines or quilted together from vivid patterned fabrics.

Arden is Edenic, where people of different classes, backgrounds, and languages come together in harmony. An occasional Shakespearean line is delivered in Spanish and love notes attached to the pillars of the theater are written in a variety of languages. In addition to Spanish and Basque designs, there are nods to South Asian culture, too, from music to occasional fabric choices. This all adds to the specialness of Arden, where all languages of love beautify the natural surroundings. This idyllic world is where refugees are welcomed into the fold and strict class hierarchies all but dissolve; the disposed Duke Senior (a convivial Brendan Murray) and his lords (Michael P. Sullivan, Saraniya Tharmarajah, Elana Michelle) break their bread with hard-working herders (Jonas Connors-Grey, Matt Harris).

In Arden, we have many young lovers in a myriad of complex love geometries (love triangles are too simple) before pairing off into couples. There is the doting Silvius (Jordan Brown) and his dismissive target Phebe (Lizzi Albert) who pines for another Rosalind in her masculine guise; the randy pairing of the goatherd Audrey (Kate Forton) and court jester Touchstone; the love-at-first-sight couple Celia (Surasree Das) and the reformed Oliver de Boys (Ethan Larsen); and the heart of the play—Rosalind (Lauren Davis) and Orlando (Gabriel Alejandro). Albert’s Phebe taking ole timey thirst trap photos with a large vintage camera and Dylan Arredondo’s lecherous Touchstone steal many scenes.

The trio of CSC company members Lauren Davis as Rosalind, Gabriel Alejandro as Orlando, and Surasree Das as Celia are all especially commendable in their performances and have beautiful chemistry together. Davis plays one of Shakespeare’s most irrepressible and charming comedic heroines with wit and authenticity. Her Rosalind is plucky and resourceful, unable to be brought low by her uncle’s cruelty and commanding her scenes where she teaches Orlando how to woo a lady. Alejandro and Das both burn brightly in their CSC debuts. Alejandro is utterly disarming as Orlando, capably covering the young man’s shifting fortunes and generally upbeat personality with aplomb. And Das is pure gold as Celia—showing the character’s growth from a sheltered but kind-hearted princess into an (almost) independent young woman—exuding energy and enthusiasm at every turn.

There were still a few rough spots on opening night, such as an occasional missed line or cue, and the pacing was off for the first few scenes of the play in Duke Frederick’s court, heavy on exposition and performed a few beats too slowly—excepting the comic bravado of Charles the luchador (Jordan Brown) and Rosalind’s tongue-tied flirting with Orlando. But the conclusion of the play—couples are wed, brothers reunited, wrongs forgiven, and order restored all via a projected deus ex machina moment—and the ending jig (here done as a bright Bollywood-style dance) offer a place of respite, renewal, and community.

As Celia claims upon first entering Arden, “I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it.” At CSC, the forest of Arden welcomes you for an enchanted evening.

As You Like It plays through October 22, 2023, at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company, 7 South Calvert Street, Baltimore, MD. Adult tickets start at $29; tickets for youths under 25 start at $28. Subscriptions and tickets can be purchased by calling 410-244-8570, ordering online, or visiting the Box Office in person.

The program for As You Like It is online here.

CAST
DUKE SENIOR – Brendan Murray
ROSALIND – Lauren Davis*
DUKE FREDERICK – Gregory Burgess*
CELIA – Surasree Das
OLIVER DE BOYS – Ethan Larsen
ORLANDO DE BOYS – Gabriel Alejandro
JAQUES DE BOYS – Michael P. Sullivan*
ADAM – Scott Alan Small*
TOUCHSTONE – Dylan Arredondo
AMIENS – Elana Michelle*
LE BEAU/LORD – Saraniya Tharmarajah
PHEBE – Lizzi Albert*
SILVIUS/CHARLES – Jordan Brown
CORIN – Jonas Connors-Grey*
AUDREY – Kate Forton*
WILLIAM – Ty Velines

CREATIVE TEAM
Director – Ian Gallanar*
Production Manager – Sarah Curnoles*
Assistant Director – Molly Moores*
Stage Manager – Marshall B Garret
Set Design – Kathryn Kawecki
Lighting Design – Jeniffer Leon
Sound Design – Ian Gallanar*
Costume Design – Kristina Lambdin*
Props Design – John Bakker
Projection Design – Mark Williams
Music Director – Grace Srinivasan*
Composer – Ami Dang
Puppet Maker – Jessica Rassp*
Dance/Movement Choreographer – Shea Hemby
Fight Choreographer/Intimacy Director – Jordan Stanford
Assistant Stage Manager – Cat Moreschi
Dramaturg – Michael Lonegro*

* CSC Company Member

The post An enchanting ‘As You Like It’ at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

Sometimes a movie may hit a little too close to the bone, and for the avid readers of DC Theater Arts — lovers, season subscribers, Fringe enthusiasts, cast members, and the creatives, crew, and staff of the 80-plus theaters across the DMV — Theater Camp is that film. The comedy brings lots of laughs, stages pitch-perfect parodies of musical theater, and also creates some truly touching moments without veering into the maudlin.

Directed by Molly Gordon and Nick Lieberman in their directorial debuts, Theater Camp, which had its world premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in January, further develops the 2020 short film of the same name written by Gordon, Lieberman, Ben Platt, and Noah Galvin. Shot mockumentary style, the film follows the teaching artists and their talented students at Camp AndirondACTS as they attempt to save their underdog theater from Camp Lakeside, the rival rich-kid camp encroaching into their territory.

On the one hand, this is the basic plotline of almost all comedic summer camp films — from Meatballs to Troop Beverly Hills, many including a climactic theater scene, such as Addams Family Values with its anarchic and homicidal Thanksgiving play and Wet Hot American Summer with its peppy drama teachers (Amy Poehler and Bradley Cooper) staging a doomed talent show. It also recalls other musical rivalry comedies such as Pitch Perfect and High School Musical with more than a dash of Christopher Guest’s brilliant satire of community theater, Waiting for Guffman.

On the other hand, as this is lovingly written and directed by, starring, and created for musical theater geeks, Theater Camp is a Horatian satire — one of love bites without sharp teeth. There is no menace or meanness in the film, even as it gently lampoons musical theater lovers and creators — who comprise the cast.

Character actors and Tony winners such as Caroline Aaron, Ayo Edeberi, Nathan Lee Graham, Owen Theile, and the underutilized Amy Sedaris as the camp’s beloved founder Joan Rubinsky round out the adult cast as the camp’s intrepid counselors, while Patti Harrison steals scenes as the villainous Camp Lakeside financial advisor. YouTube comic Jimmy Tatro plays Troy Rubinsky, an insufferable business vlogger, tasked with keeping his mother’s camp afloat after she falls into a coma while watching a strobe-light-heavy middle school production of Bye Bye Birdie.

The film offers two Evan Hansens for the price of one with Ben Platt playing Amos, the Head of Drama, a perfectionist who still thinks of himself as a performer first and teacher somewhere much lower on his resumé, and Noah Galvin as Glenn, the do-it-all production manager, who is balancing four different productions across the campgrounds at the same time with a headset always on and his arms laden with props. Galvin shines as Glenn, who is the soul and conscience of the camp, knowing the history of all past productions and trying to counsel Troy to make the right decisions.

Molly Gordon as Rebecca-Diane, the Head of Music & Theory, is a flighty bohemian type. She leads young campers through past life therapy sessions and wears layers of diaphanous materials. She is, frankly, the quintessential music teacher we all loved and admired (and maybe sometimes gently mocked) in our past high school theater experiences.

Together Rebecca-Diane and Amos, who attended camp together for 11 summers and have taught there for the following decade, are beautifully in sync as the co-writers of the camp’s annual world-premiere musical: Joan, Still (their previous shows include Blackmail & Botox, A Hanukkah Divorce, and The Briefcase, The Door & the Salad). The Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice of Camp AndirondACTS, Gordon and Platt have been lifelong friends from their early years as child actors in Los Angeles, and their chemistry together as co-dependent besties slowly pulling away from each other is bittersweet.

The stakes for the musical Joan, Still are much higher this year. With Joan unable to work her fundraising magic, her tech bro son focused on his side hustles (renting cabins as Airbnb properties and having campers serve as waitstaff for the local Rotary club), and Camp Lakeside wanting to demolish the camp to expand its outdoor spaces, the musical needs to pull the heartstrings and open the wallets of potential investors.

It is in these moments focused on the financial risks and strains of making theater that the comedy moves into the tragicomic mode (even if only briefly). We’ve all read the recent sobering stories of theaters shuttering after the pandemic, the dearth of butts-in-seats and declining season subscriptions, staff leaving their vocation for other positions with better financial compensation and work-life balance, and more. While the film doesn’t touch on that, the foreclosure threatening the future of the camp haunts Troy and advances his inept get-rich schemes.

The climactic scene of the film stages Joan, Still, the musical bio of the founder. Including Joan’s story as a young immigrant who couldn’t read (with allusions to Fiddler on the Roof), her Studio 54 decadence (youngsters disco-dancing while a papier-mâché nose huffs a line of coke created from white feather boas), and other surprising biographical details, the inappropriate musical also includes an incredibly touching number. Does the musical save the camp? You do know how magic works, right?

The film has many IYKYK moments sprinkled throughout for the pure enjoyment of theater lovers, and it’s a love letter to the kids of all ages who truly find themselves on stage and in tech. There is one shy boy who is torn between football and performance. In a recurring bit, another kid realizes he is not an actor but will excel as an agent; he’s always on the phone trying to cast the camp’s star performers. One camp counselor who padded her resumé and knows nothing about stage combat learns from the kids how to do her job, and a tech producer finds his latent true calling as a star. Camp AndirondACTS creates an inclusive space for all. It’s only those who do not get the theater — greedy money-grubbers — who find themselves left out.

That the end credits state “Dedicated to All Our Drama Teachers” is a testament to the power of exposing children to play and creativity and instilling a lifelong love of the arts and performance. Not all who study theater make it to Broadway, but many are the artists who grace local theater stages, run the lights, sew the costumes, create marketing campaigns, and do all the work that creates live theater. Some may move into different career paths altogether but still take their own children to local or touring productions of their favorite musicals. Some may support theater in other ways — volunteering, subscribing, or donating. And yes, some will become drama, music, and art teachers in schools, theater companies’ educational programs, community centers, and more.

The film reminds us that it is this whole community of theater lovers who are necessary for theater to thrive and that arts teachers — the first to be let go during times of financial crises in school districts across the nation, the ones overlooked by conservative school boards focused purely on the metrics of testing scores and state curriculum standards, the ones who are challenged at every step of the way by ignorant bigots for their inclusive brave spaces that welcome LGBTQIA+ students and other students who often feel ignored or exiled — are no laughing matter.

Searchlight Pictures’ Theater Camp is now playing at area movie theaters. PG-13. One hour and 32 minutes.

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By the pricking of my thumb… something wicked(ly good) this way comes. Macbeth, performed by Chesapeake Shakespeare Company’s Black Classical Acting Ensemble and expertly directed by Lauren Davis, is both a powerful production of Shakespeare’s supernatural tragedy and a testament to investing in the training, rehearsal space, and stage time for the next generation of Black actors.

This Shakespeare-in-the-Ruins production feels less a Scotland of mortals, but an otherworldly realm. Staged on the partially reconstructed ruins of the Patapsco Female Institute (a former finishing school for young women) in Ellicott City, this Scotland is already a haunted setting. The multi-tiered stage is built into the ghost of a grand building with skeletal iron beams and rough stone walls highlighting empty window spaces—all used to fantastic effect by set and lighting designer Dan O’Brien. As the outdoor performance began at dusk, we were slowly dropped into darkness like the Macbeths while sound effects by Matthew Dacher—crows, owls, even the Eagles’ “Hotel California”—underscored the eeriness of it all.

But it was the dazzling and unsettling performances of Mecca Verdell, Keri Anderson, and Jordan Stanford as the weird sisters that truly moved us into a land dominated by malevolent spirits. Young and feral, the witches dance through the audience, crawl and howl like beasts, rolling back their eyes and grimacing, and intertwining their bodies to become one three-voiced menacing creature (with movement direction by Mari-Andrea Travis). Wearing white fringed shawls and vests and tiaras of twigs—costume designer Kristina Lambdin mixes the white dress of Haitian voodoo priestesses with a pagan, forest witch touch—the three witches are liminal spirits. (The rest of the cast wear black henley shirts, cargo pants, and boots, with occasional leather vests or scarves indicating different clan colors: The Macbeths both don a wine-red hue.)

Both of this earth and yet not, the weird sisters are imbued with prophetic knowledge and yet petty AF (drowning a sailor because his wife wouldn’t share her chestnuts). When Macbeth (DeJeanette Horne) and Banquo (the stolid Lauren Erica Jackson) stumble upon the witches and learn of their futures, the latter responds rightly with fear and repulsion, but our loyal warlike Macbeth is immediately intrigued and more fearful of his own nature—the capacity to kill—than of their prophecies.

Verdell, Anderson, and Stanford are almost always onstage—maybe not in the guise of the witches, but their wicked presence is omnipresent. They double and double, toil and trouble everything in Macbeth’s life. Verdell becomes a flirty, drunken Porter in one of the tragedy’s few comedic moments (and the sinners knocking on Hell’s gate have been updated to corrupt Baltimore politicians and oil company executives); Stanford plays Macbeth’s most loyal and oldest servant Seyton by hunching over and using a cane; and Anderson performs the lead murderer. But these witches are also messengers, servants, and soldiers, or as Lady Macbeth would say “doubled and then doubled again.” The three reunite as the three murderers who kill Banquo and slaughter Macduff’s family.

Even in the mortal realm, the play is one of violence and fraught masculinity. “What bloody man is this?” King Duncan (Gregory Burgess) asks early on as the injured warrior Macduff (Lloyd Ekpe) enters to tell of Macbeth’s heroic deeds. But the true answer to that question is: All of them. All the men of the play are “in blood stepped so far.” There are multiple wars, assassinations, secret murders, and the brutal killing of innocent women and children. When Macbeth kills his final foe before Macduff’s revenge, the young Siward (Christen Gross) dies at the cusp of adulthood, but as all his wounds demonstrate that he died facing his enemy, he is remembered as yet another brave and bloody man. Likewise, when Macduff enters with Macbeth’s head in a bag, his hands are stained just like the Macbeths’ hands before him. Only the old good King Duncan—played with paternal warmth and kingly grace by Burgess—may not have a murderous rage, but Lady Macbeth (Dawn Thomas Reidy) laments, “Who knew the old man had so much blood in him?”

At the center of all this are Horne as Macbeth and Reidy as Lady Macbeth. Reidy is a confident Lady Macbeth who does not need to needle her husband. She knows that they are both ambitious and have the same shared goals for power; he just needs a little more convincing. It has long been tradition to double the roles of Lady Macbeth and Hecate, but when she appears onstage masked and donning a white branch crown, it is difficult to know if this is the goddess of witchcraft or Lady Macbeth fully coming into her own (after calling upon evil spirits to inspire her cruelty in an earlier scene). When Macbeth decides to dispatch Banquo and son Fleance, she tries to dissuade him from further crimes and it is her husband’s senseless killing of Macduff’s family that seems to be her ultimate undoing.

Horne is a thrill to watch as Macbeth, a man of action on the battlefield but also one tortured by his own warlike deeds when he is alone or confiding in his wife. Even after the murder of Duncan, the mesmerizing Horne keeps a grasp on Macbeth’s humanity, as ruined and defiled as it is. As he is haunted by visions—an invisible dagger pointing him to regicide and a disemboweled Banquo appearing at a feast—Horne develops the slightest tremor in his hand, and shows the mental and spiritual weakness that allows Macduff to defeat him.

This is a play of not only masculine violence and action but of depth of feeling, too. This may be most apparent in the most moving scene of the play when Macduff learns of his family’s fate. Ekpe as Macduff, Gross as his cousin Ross (who delivers the bad news), and the rightful Scottish prince Malcolm played by Shaquan Pearson—all had tears streaming down their cheeks. Macduff is spurred to action and says as he wipes his face, “But I must also feel it as a man.”

Director Lauren Davis deftly teases out these questions of manhood, action, emotion, and the duality of all people to do good or evil. And there are many aspects commending this production. The effective doubling of the skilled cast makes scenes and characters echo in exciting new ways: Jackson plays both Banquo but also the protective mother Lady Macduff in scenes that pair her with Jabari Williams as Fleance and Young Macduff, respectively, who sees his parent murdered and then (alternately) escapes or suffers the same fate. While dealing with the darkness of vaulting ambition, Davis also delivers a powerful play full of danger—from both supernatural and human foes—and action with deadly duels (choreographed by Gerrad Alex Taylor), and in the final sequence large shadows of jousting warriors are cast across the tall stone walls. Both before the play and during intermission, the cast performed acapella versions of relevant songs such as The Rolling Stones’ “Paint It Black,” The Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams,” and Black spirituals. And, finally, the majority of the cast was young and vibrant and new to Chesapeake Shakespeare Company’s stages

While applauding the efforts of all the cast, creative team, and crew for this production, the formation of the Black Classical Acting Ensemble and this stellar production shows how the Chesapeake Shakespeare Company is doing the work to become more equitable and representative of and for its community. To create a Black Classical Acting Ensemble in a majority Black city such as Baltimore is to see, listen to, and acknowledge the artists, actors, and designers who are already making classical theater, but also to support and train those who may have been historically underserved, underrepresented, or felt unwelcome by the weight and legacy of Shakespeare as a cultural institution. It’s still a nascent program, but full of promise and absolutely vital for Baltimore’s theater community.

In an opening note about the Black Classical Acting Ensemble, CSC’s Producing Executive Director Lesley Malin offers the brief history that the BCAE was developed in 2021 with Troy Jennings, Dawn Thomas Reidy, and Gerrad Alex Taylor as the current leadership team. Created as an affinity space for Black classical actors and a training ground for new talent, the BCAE has evolved and grown over the last two years with several smaller productions and readings produced in the 2021/22 season, and in this current season—two productions of the Scottish play—one developed specifically for student matinee productions and this enticing Shakespeare-in-the Ruins production. Malin states, too, that the BCAE is already having larger ramifications for the Chesapeake Shakespeare Company: “It has changed how we think about what we produce on our stages, who is leading our productions, and who we are hiring both on and off the stage.”

On Macbeth’s opening night performance with many family members and friends of the cast and crew in attendance, over half the audience were at a CSC production for the first time and it was the most racially diverse CSC audience I have seen. It looked like Baltimore. Seeing Shakespeare reimagined by Black artists is already opening the doors and welcoming new patrons, who may not have seen themselves reflected—or have seen people of color distorted—in the Bard’s works.

Chesapeake Shakespeare Company recently announced its “Season of Rule-Breakers” with As You Like It, A Christmas Carol, Romeo & Juliet, The Oresteia, and The Merry Wives of Windsor all planned for 2023/24, which will feature many of CSC’s actors who comprise the BCAE, and it would be fantastic to see the younger BCAE actors who featured in Macbeth onstage in these mainstage productions, too. In future seasons, I hope we see more full-scale BCAE productions, such as Macbeth.

Running time: Two and a half hours, with one 15-minute intermission.

Macbeth plays through July 23, 2023, at the Patapsco Female Institute Historic Park, 3655 Church Road, Ellicott City, MD. Adult tickets start at $50, tickets for youth under 25 start at $25, and children (two per adult) get in free. Subscriptions and tickets can be purchased by calling 410-244-8570, ordering online, or visiting the Box Office in person, at 7 South Calvert Street, Baltimore, MD.

To learn more about the Black Classical Acting Ensemble, please visit: chesapeakeshakespeare.com/education-community/bcae/

For directions, parking, seating, and other information for the Shakespeare-in-the-Ruins production at PFI Historic Park, please visit: chesapeakeshakespeare.com/plan-your-visit/pfi-historic-park/

COVID Safety: Masks are not required. Social-distance-friendly seating is available. More information is here.

The Cast
MACBETH – DeJeanette Horne
LADY MACBETH – Dawn Thomas Reidy
WITCH/PORTER – Mecca Verdell
WITCH/MURDERER – Keri Anderson
WITCH/SEYTON – Jordan Stanford
DUNCAN/SIWARD – Gregory Burgess
BANQUO/LADY MACDUFF/LENOX – Lauren Jackson
MALCOLM – Shaquan Pearson
DONALBAIN/YOUNG SIWARD – Christen Gross
MACDUFF – Lloyd Ekpe
ROSS – Jasmine Proctor
FLEANCE/YOUNG MACDUFF/DOCTOR – Jabari Williams

The Creative Team
DIRECTOR – Lauren Davis
PRODUCTION MANAGER – Sarah Curnoles
STAGE MANAGER – Lauren Engler
TECHNICAL DIRECTOR/SET & LIGHTING DESIGNER – Dan O’Brien
COSTUME DESIGNER – Kristina Lambdin
SOUND DESIGNER – Matthew Datcher
PROPS DESIGNER – Sierra Ho
MUSIC DIRECTOR – Grace Srinivasan
FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHER – Gerrad Alex Taylor
MOVEMENT CHOREOGRAPHER – Mari Travis
INTIMACY DIRECTOR – Sierra Young
ASSOCIATE TECHNICAL DIRECTOR – Chester Stacy
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR – Ben Lambert
ASSISTANT STAGE MANAGER – Kris DiBastiani
WARDROBE SUPERVISOR – Hannah Brill
TECH MANAGER – Colin Maher
COVID SAFETY MANAGER – Mandy Benedix
SENIOR HOUSE MANAGER – Pamela Forton
HOUSE MANAGERS – Abigail Funk, Stacey Morrison, Ashley Sigmon
INTERNS – Avelina Rivezzo-Weber, Maria Wraback

The post A powerful ‘Macbeth’ full of danger from Chesapeake Shakespeare Company appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

In the BBC comedy Blackadder: Back & Forth, the time-traveling Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson) runs into a young Will Shakespeare (Colin Firth), giving a punch to the Bard for composing the canon that becomes the mandatory curriculum/suffering of 400 years of school students. Once Will is down, Blackadder gets in a quick kick, too, for “Ken Brannagh’s endless, four-hour, uncut Hamlet.”

Chesapeake Shakespeare Company’s current Hamlet wouldn’t warrant such a kick.

Directed by Eleanor Holdridge, it’s a sparse production (in all the best ways) — just over two hours long. The play clips along quicker than the time between King Hamlet’s funeral and the Queen’s quick remarriage to her former brother-in-law. There’s no fat, no bloat, no unnecessary archaic jokes, and barely any courtiers, guards, or hangers-on in the Danish royal court.

What we do have is Vince Eisenson as a virtuoso Hamlet leading a strong cast in Shakespeare’s great tragedy.

As Hamlet, Eisenson creates a nuanced Danish Prince: a clever, thoughtful, humorous young man — sure, a bit pretentious at times, but he is a university student returned home — confronted with a horrific discovery. We watch Hamlet uncover this murder mystery, deal with his profound grief and anger, and unravel as everything he has learned about the world — philosophy, religion, logics, and more — fails him, and he becomes just as jaded, cruel, and broken as the world around him.

Eisenson’s Hamlet is natural and effortless, turning most soliloquies into confidences with the audience. He offers a more jovial and energetic take on the Prince, who becomes melancholic only because of his circumstances; he’s witty and active, breaking into jigs while teasing Polonius. This is a Hamlet who otherwise would have fared well in one of Shakespeare’s romantic comedies. But this isn’t that story at all.

Hamlet is tasked by the Ghost of his father (David Yezzi) to confront and kill his regicidal/fratricidal uncle Claudius (a smooth-talking, cowardly Marcus Kyd, so unctuous in speech that he all but leaves a trail of slime behind). But, fate (pirates! forged letters! more than one invading army! dead bodies behind curtains to dispose!) and his own issues — mostly, turning his cruelty toward Gertrude and Ophelia — keep delaying his revenge.

The judicious cuts to the script allow the two doomed women of the play to be more present and active than in full-length productions where they have comparatively less stage time.

CSC’s Executive Director Lesley Malin plays Gertrude as shrewdly observant of what’s going on around her: she notes Hamlet and Ophelia’s flirting and is the first observer of Ophelia’s madness; she also notes her son’s odd behavior early on, and importantly, she knows what is in the drink in the final scene. Unlike her son, she sees nothing unnatural about her remarriage and seems very much in love with her new husband. But like Hamlet, she also realizes that Claudius is not the man she thought he was; we see subtle changes in her gestures toward Claudius, and a coldness sets in where before there was only warmth and affection.

Elana Michelle’s Ophelia is brilliantly realized, another bright spark of life and joy and laughter extinguished because of the men around her.

Ophelia and Hamlet break each other’s hearts when she returns his love letters (and unlike many modern productions, while Hamlet is angered and betrayed, he does not abuse Ophelia here); she is publically humiliated by his dirty jokes at her expense during The Mousetrap; and shortly after her (ex-?) boyfriend has stabbed her father, she stumbles onto a conversation about exiling the Prince to England for the murder. Michelle’s transformation into Ophelia’s madness is effectively and sadly all too real, and this innocent (but not naive) victim finally can speak to those in power in her bawdy rhymes and folk songs instead of being a pretty, good, and silent girl.

In early, easy scenes with her brother, Laertes (JC Payne), and her father, Polonius (DeJeanette Horne), Ophelia is confident and playful — teasing her protective older brother and exuding an easy love for her doting, but overbearing father. All three actors in this second imperiled family add layers to their roles.

DeJeanette Horne’s Polonius is loquacious but no fool, knowing that there are political games to be played even if he doesn’t know all the rules or hold all the cards. He also seems to have his children’s best interests in mind (especially when it furthers his own career). And JC Payne as Laertes transforms from an easygoing guy to a rebel ready to overthrow the whole damn monarchy after his father’s murder. He is quick to action, full of fire and anger. This is his revenge tragedy, too, and in his final moments, Payne’s final exchange with Hamlet gives this penultimate death even more gravitas.

This Hamlet is lean, energetic, and powerful, but not without humor. And it’s not Hamlet’s antic disposition that brings all the laughs. Dagan Brown and Briana Manente play the hapless, high-octane college chums Rosencrantz and Guildenstern; Brendan Edward Kennedy offers a little levity as Hamlet’s often bewildered buddy Horatio, who doesn’t understand this royal court with its murders and ghosts and multiple revenge plots; and in a scene-stealing turn, Gregory Burgess is fantastic as the literal-minded Gravedigger while Dawn Thomas Reidy as the second Gravedigger sullenly eats her lunch and silently passes judgment on Hamlet’s highfalutin’ ways.

The quick pace of play is aided by a spare aesthetic. Designed by Misha Kachman, the set is simple — black floors, a black spiral stair leading to the black balcony; occasionally a chair, loveseat, or bar cart is brought on stage and removed again. Props (by Caitlin Bouxsein) are minimal — a love letter, a book, a dagger, a poisoned drink. Designed by Katie McCreary, the lighting choices are more bold: a globe light descends when Hamlet advances part of his stratagem; a thundering cloud glowers above and changes colors during climatic scenes. Costumes (by Gail Beach) are contemporary and simple, and except for a flashy, red-sequined gown worn by Gertrude for a state event and Ophelia’s penchant for romantic florals, they are examples of quiet luxury, showing the wealth and power of these Danish players.

And the efficiency of the play’s cuts and simplicity also highlights some of the play’s most brilliant moments, too. The opening scenes are somewhat reordered for clarity and begin with Hamlet’s “To be or not to be” soliloquy being drowned out by the other characters entering the fray and speaking their own lines (don’t worry: it’s repeated later in its entirety). The final duel between Hamlet and Laertes (staged by Kristen Pilgrim) is fast-paced and thrilling. Due to the sparse cast, Hamlet gives the infamous parts of The Mousetrap to Gertrude and Claudius, so as the Player Queen and King, they reenact their sins in front of the royal court. It’s a brilliant choice. But there are minor missteps: for some soliloquies, the stormcloud flashes, the lighting pales to an ill green, and an electric buzz hisses behind Hamlet’s famous words. Yes, it physicalizes Hamlet’s thoughts, but it’s not needed, nor is the staging of “To be or not to be” where Hamlet sits still in a chair during the entire speech, frozen by his thoughts, when Eisenson is such a balletic performer.

This is a sharp, excised, and poignant production of Hamlet — the kind that even Blackadder or the most Shakespeare-adverse would enjoy, one that would enthrall young students rather than bore them out their minds, that speaks the speech trippingly but also knows when actions speak louder than words, words, words.

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

Hamlet plays through May 21, 2023, at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company, 7 South Calvert Street, Baltimore, MD. Tickets are $23–$69. Subscriptions and tickets can be purchased by calling 410-244-8570, ordering online, or visiting the Box Office in person. For more information or to purchase tickets, click here.

COVID Safety: Chesapeake Shakespeare Company no longers require that patrons wear masks for performances at its Downtown Baltimore theater. However, socially distanced seating options are available and must be purchased by calling the Box Office.

Hamlet
By William Shakespeare
Directed by Eleanor Holdridge

CAST
Vince Eisenson – Hamlet
Lesley Malin – Gertrude
Marcus Kyd – Claudius
DeJeanette Horne – Polonius
Elana Michelle  – Ophelia
JC Payne – Laertes
David Yezzi – Ghost/Player King
Gregory Burgess – Gravedigger
Dawn Thomas Reidy – Fortinbras
Brendan Edward Kennedy – Horatio
Dagan Brown – Rosencrantz/English Captain
Briana Manente – Guildenstern

CREATIVE TEAM
Eleanor Holdridge – Director
Jalice Ortiz-Corral – Stage Manager
Sarah Curnoles – Production Manager
Dan O’Brien – Technical Director
Chester Stacy – Assistant Technical Director
Misha Kachman – Scenic Designer
Katie McCreary – Lighting Designer
Gail Beach – Costume Designer
Scott Killian – Sound Designer
Caitlin Bouxsein – Props Designer
Melissa Flaim – Text and Vocal Coach
Kristen Pilgrim – Fight Choreographer
Eva Hill Assistant – Stage Manager
Hannah Brill – Wardrobe Supervisor
Kristopher Ingle – Light Board Operator
Mandy Benedix – Covid Safety Officer
Pam Forton – Senior House Manager

The post A virtuoso Prince heads brisk ‘Hamlet’ at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

It is easy to turn down a Baltimore corner to find historical markers denoting an event from Edgar Allan Poe’s life, career, love, and death — from the family home where he met his wife, to the last tavern he was seen alive in, to two graves (very fitting for a man so obsessed with death). And it’s even easier to find allusions to his name and literary works in everything ranging from Baltimore’s ice cream flavors and bumper stickers to the titles of many locally owned businesses throughout the city. Even the football team refers to Poe’s most famous poem: “The Raven.” When my best friend from grad school visited recently, she was delighted that Baltimore’s mascot was a literary figure. How many other cities can boast that?

Baltimore’s macabre son returns home in the musical Nevermore, its Baltimore premiere at Stillpointe Theatre, closing out the company’s 13th “Spooky” Season. First commissioned by Signature Theatre in Arlington, Nevermore had its world premiere on January 15, 2006. (It’s also been revived in the region more recently by Creative Cauldron in the 2018/19 season.)

In the playbill, composer Matt Conner shares that he visited many of the above Poe-centric sites, walking in the tortured footsteps of the poet and short story writer, trying to understand the method behind Poe’s madness. What Conner and librettist Grace Barnes uncover is a brilliant man haunted by spirits — the multiple decanters of whiskey he imbibes during the 90-minute musical but also the women of his life, from mothers to lovers to sex workers.

Directed by Stillpointe Theatre’s Ryan Haase, choreographed by Amanda Rife, with musical direction by Ben Shaver, Nevermore is a fantastical and fun study of the great American gothic writer with dedicated performances and a wonderfully ghastly design. It’s also a musical biopic very heavy-handed on the psychoanalytic treatment of its subject.

To paraphrase Freud: sometimes a raven is just a raven.

As Edgar, Bobby Libby throws himself into the role. We’ve all seen the photographs and caricatures of Poe with his melancholic, baggy eyes, expansive forehead, wisps of dark hair and mustache, and his impeccable suiting — a haunted man of the mind. (And this is a moment to note Danielle Robinette’s role doing makeup and hair to make Libby appear like this famously dour writer.) Libby also makes Poe a man of the flesh — drinking excessively, gambling, whoring, and psychologically abusive — whose crisp baritone sinks us to despair while his clear tenor always hints at the man Poe was unable to become: loved and happy.

Like Poe’s works, the musical is heavy on Freudian imagery and misogyny — the Oedipal complex, the madonna–whore dichotomy, beautiful maidens not long for this horrible world, men embalmed alive in dark holes and pits because of their desires. In Poe’s sinister and solipsistic worldview, all his troubles — his alcoholism, his despair, and his chaotic writing career — are the faults of the women in his life. The musical tries to tease out these threads, to interrogate Poe’s psyche and relationships, but it often ends up repeating Poe’s own beliefs.

For example, Poe’s ghostly mother, played like a fairytale stepmother by Kristen Zwobot, is cold and dismissive toward her son, but Poe’s mother died when he was only a toddler. He has never known this cruel woman before him, but she brutally tells him that he is searching for her in the eyes of every sex worker he pays for.

The other women in Poe’s life include Elmira — his first love, played as a buoyant belle by Christine Demuth; the bright soprano and youthful playfulness of Caitlin Weaver becomes Poe’s 13-year-old cousin/wife Virginia; Virginia’s apprehensive mother and a mother-proxy for Poe, Muddy, is powerfully performed by Kay-Megan Washington; and Rachel Blank, with her raspy alto, plays The Whore. As the play does not move in chronological order and all the women wear similar black and white costumes that nod toward the early Victorian era designed with a sense of Tim Burtonesque whimsy by Kitt Crescenzo — long tulle skirts, corseted waists, black parasols, and embellishments of raven feathers — we are to see how these different women become confused and conflated in Poe’s heart.

Yes, in Poe’s world, even the real-life flesh-and-blood women are not their own beings but are reduced to archetypes: virgin, lover, mother, whore, corpse/ghost. They exist to abandon or torment him, but also to inspire or impede his writing. Poe composes worshipful poems to his late mother and love letters to Elmira, he woos his child-bride Virginia by telling her scary bedtime stories such as “The Pit and the Pendulum” and “The Cask of Amontillado,” and his hired lover sings “Eldorado” to him.

Nevertheless, it is a gothically good time, especially when Poe’s own lyrical poems are set to music. The musical opens with Poe drinking and dying his ignominious death in a Baltimore ditch, while the specters of his women sing his poem “The Bells.” The prophetic poem that seems to foretell Virginia’s death from consumption, “Annabelle Lee,” and the macabre favorite “The Raven” are also performed in their entirety.

The simple set in Area 405, an old warehouse, lets the decay of industrial design — exposed pipes, corrugated metal flooring, steel beams — and the occasional flourishes added by Haase — blue lighting, a velvet sofa, a writing desk, candles suspended in birdcages, Persian rugs underfoot, and a sprinkling of raven’s feathers — add to the dreamlike atmosphere.

The music, orchestrated by Jonathan Tunik, is romantic and atmospheric as performed onstage by a suite of local musicians, rotating through different performances: Naomi Schneller Zajic (violin), Allen Hicks (viola), Billy Georg (keyboard/percussion), and Kara Welch (harp); Ben Shaver conducts and plays keyboard. (Laura Stokes, David Zajic, Stacey Antoine, and Jae Anthonee perform on some evenings.)

While Nevermore does not really shine a light on Poe’s tormented mind, it is an engaging ode to the melancholic and whimsical works of one of America’s great literary figures and the unofficial mascot of Baltimore.

Running Time: Approximately 90 minutes with no intermission.

Nevermore plays through May 6, 2023 (weekends only), presented by Stillpointe Theatre performing at Area 405 – 405 East Oliver Street, Baltimore, MD. For tickets ($25–$45), please visit here.

The program for Nevermore is online here.

Nevermore
Music by Matt Conner
Book by Grace Barnes
Source Material by Edgar Allan Poe

Video by Rachel Blank.

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