As an artist who loves Shakespeare and musical theater, I had high hopes for Play On!, a jukebox musical transporting Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night to the Harlem Renaissance with Duke Ellington’s discography. I’m biased here: from formerly working at Ford’s Theatre, I know DC audiences last saw Cheryl L. West’s work as a playwright with SHOUT SISTER SHOUT!, and its conceiver, Sheldon Epps, is a major leader in A First Look efforts for BIPOC playwrights. I was excited to see their work in a new environment — and how this American story set in the Harlem Renaissance would do at Signature. I also loved the recent openly queer and kink-influenced Folger take on Twelfth Night by Mei Ann Teo, and was intrigued by what Lili-Anne Brown (also slated to direct at Arena this fall) would do with the material as director. With such collaborators, and the formula that comes with Twelfth Night, it has the ingredients for a special experience. It is an experience, for sure.

Inside the Max Theatre, its reimagined stage layout is like nothing you’ve ever seen before at Signature, with an expanded thrust stage opening out to the audience, stunning opulent art deco set design by Dan Conway, and dining tables as a partial seating area for audiences right by the stage — Paradise Blue at Studio Theatre-style. I was entranced by the space’s possibilities. In the end, I was left with mixed feelings. It was a spectacle, but it had script and pacing issues. I loved its musical theater technicalities. I didn’t love the storytelling.

Throughout, there were powerhouse vocal pyrotechnics by its stars and toe-tapping performances by its onstage band (music directed by Jermaine Hill, piano-conducted by Brian P. Whitted). The joyous tap-heavy choreography was performed energetically by its hardworking ensemble, with great attention paid to intentional movement, line, bounce, and rhythm by choreographer Breon Artzell. And the period costumes by Samantha C. Jones were jaw-dropping, especially sparkly numbers for Vy and Lady Liv. The show as a whole was Shakespeare meets jazz club without beating your head about it. However, because it felt under-directed on the acting side and the songs in general are less diegetic, it’s more Duke Ellington than Shakespeare; and if you’re making a musical, you need more motivation.

In this version, Viola, or Vy (Jalisa Williams, in a deserved star turn, though more subdued than fiery in her take), wants to be a Cotton Club composer during the Harlem Renaissance. Because she’s a woman in the 1930s, she’s not taken seriously. Encouraged by her uncle, the Jester (Wesley J. Barnes, who can seriously croon and seriously tap), she disguises herself as a man — “Vy-Man” — to pitch her music to the Duke: not Orsino, but Duke Ellington, played with suaveness and a powerful tenor by Greg Watkins. He’s in love with the club’s headliner, Lady Liv (Olivia, a stunning, melodramatic diva-like leading lady in Awa Sal Secka, who absolutely carries this show), and he entrusts Vy to send her love songs. In turn, Lady Liv falls for Vy, even as this show’s Malvolio, the Rev (an uptight, then free Chuckie Benson), has feelings for Lady Liv. Enter mistaken identity chaos, though perhaps less chaos than a typical Twelfth Night.

Some script choices left me puzzled: Vy has no “She left no ring with me” moment, nor does Lady Liv have a “What is your parentage” moment or any apparent grief to constitute being a diva, like that of the original Olivia’s loss of her father and brother. Both feel woefully needed for a play where it feels like the main female characters, especially Vy, need more character development in the first act. It’s not helped that the pair has only one song together — “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore,” which is, nonetheless, a standout moment for both Williams and Sal Secka as both have fun with the flirtation.

There’s also no equivalent to Sebastian — leaving Lady Liv with a less developed, bizarre final romantic partner. It also gives Jester a romantic interest, a new character in chorus girl CC, with whom he has an on-and-off again relationship — whereas in Twelfth Night, Feste is more on the outside looking in, without a lover. Because of the emphasis on all these heteronormative relationships, the “gender stuff” that is often a huge topic to be made with Twelfth Night is not as prevalent. In fact, Vy’s posing as a man is discovered much later in the plot, at which point the dramatic tension in the second act is less thick, from build-up that doesn’t seem to quite matter much anymore.

I concede that this is a rarely produced musical many don’t even know. It’s quite a feat, as a brainchild of Signature’s Matthew Gardiner after discussing with Folger’s Karen Ann Daniels how to bring it to the DC area. This show has talent to spare and is a spectacle that deserves to be seen even if its script — first written and seen on Broadway in the early 1990s — could use some work.

The music is reason enough to see this show. It’s Duke Ellington music, performed close to Ellington’s hometown of DC. There is scatting like no one’s business, and belting like there’s no tomorrow. Effortless riffing and growling, in combination with pure feeling, powerful control and release, and full voice and clarity had me ascending. Awa Sal Secka’s heart-wrenching “I Ain’t Got Nothing But the Blues” is one example: she lets it rip with her whole being, giving a reminder of the power of subtlety, intentionally placed riffs, and taking up space as your full self with true raw emotion.

Derrick D. Truby as Sweets, this show’s version of Toby, and Wesley J. Barnes are a delightful pair in “Rocks in My Bed,” a paean to being spurned by their lovers, delivered with intense grit and comic audience interaction. Kanysha Williams consistently aims high and lands perfectly on insane vocal riffs and runs as Miss Mary (Maria, a maid to Lady Liv, who’s a phenomenal performer in her own right). These performers were not afraid to go full out this way. I wish this commitment had been given to the book scenes.

Because the thing is, this show is a good example of a contemporary Shakespeare adaptation that goes beyond mere regurgitation of Shakespeare. It builds upon Shakespeare with a story about how marginalized people may have to hide or suppress aspects of who they really are to survive. Right now, in a time when I am looking for more than survival — I am looking for resistance — I was hoping for more revolution. This energetic production has cream-of-the-crop local talent exuding Black excellence, which is an act of revolution in itself when joy is needed and local casting is not always guaranteed. But despite appearances, it doesn’t go beyond surface-level representation.

I wonder: Is it so bad to want a pastiche show that is undeniably a good time to be a more powerful social-justice story? Do I want it to be something that it’s not, or am I challenging it to rise to a higher level it deserves? It is because I understand the kind of show this is that I want it to go further. Signature can do it; they did Soft Power last year.

This is indicative of my larger recent disillusionment with DC theater: an emphasis on aesthetics over content, during a time when our home is literally being attacked. This musical may have been conceived in the ’90s, but it is being performed now, here; why? Give me a play that is ugly and unafraid to go there. The performers are already giving that in spades. I wish they weren’t elevating the material, but performing in work deserving of their talents. This work is necessary; it is not simple escapism and still deserving. So let this show play on for a good run, but let shows that dive deeper find their way to local stages, too.

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

Play On! plays through October 5, 2025, in the Max Theatre at Signature Theatre, 4200 Campbell Avenue, Arlington, VA. Tickets start at $47 and are available by calling the box office at (703) 820-9771, online, or through TodayTix. Information about ticket discounts is available here.

The program for Play On! is online here.
Closed captions are available via the GalaPro app.

COVID Safety: Masks are optional in the lobby and other public areas of the building except that face masks are required inside the performance spaces on September 7 at 2 p.m. Signature’s COVID Safety Measures can be found here.

Effects Warnings: This show will contain strobe and lighting effects, loud noises, theatrical haze and herbal cigarettes.
Content Warnings: This show contains adult themes around gender/sexuality/sex.
Age Recommendation: Recommended for ages 8+. Signature does not admit anyone under 6.
Special performances include Discussion Nights on September 10 at 7:30 p.m. and September 30 at 7:30 p.m., Pride Night on September 5 at 8 p.m., and a Chocolate City: A Ball for Black Excellence Affinity Night on September 12 at 8 p.m., hosted by Pussy Noir.

Play On!
Conceived by Sheldon Epps
Book by Cheryl L. West
Music by Duke Ellington
Music Directed by Jermaine Hill
Choreographed by Breon Arzell
Directed by Lili-Anne Brown

SEE ALSO:
Signature Theatre announces cast and creative team for ‘Play On!’ (news story, July 18, 2025)

The post Performers dazzle in ‘Play On!’ at Signature — but the play’s the thing appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

I grew up loving mythology, but never quite got into Irish mythology. After seeing Prey Most Difficult at District Fringe, I’m fascinated by the origins of this contemporary reimagining of the Oisin myth. In the 21st century, a Storyteller, played by Erin Ellbogen, lives out a mystical, dreamlike one-person show version of the tale, written by Corvin Kevlihan. With a script filled with poeticism, Ellbogen delivers an enchanting, entertaining, and witty performance, playing every character with distinct physicality.

For those unaware, Oisin is a warrior-hunter-poet in Irish mythology. His mom is a deer, and his dad was a hunter. There are druids involved. (More on that if you see the show.) He falls in love with a fairy who has a terrible curse of having a pig’s face (ew), gets whisked off to fairy land, defeats his wife’s oppressive father in an epic poetry battle (a highlight of this production), realizes his love isn’t really in love, and journeys home to discover 300 years have passed.

According to historians, it’s a metaphor for the end of the Bronze Age. Here, it feels like a metaphor for falling into the trap of loving a story over reality for too long. I wish we could have gotten to the main action sooner; the opening backstory about Oisin’s mother and his father could be more condensed. But the pacing picks up because the Storyteller is a fun narrator, with sassy remarks like “My mom was a deer, I’ll explain later,” “She had a pig face, cover your ears if you don’t want to hear the story of why,” and “Fairies are bad at math,” as well as an environment of poetry slam snaps.

In this minimalist staging, Ellbogen uses their body, voice, a simple plaid shirt and pants, two black chairs, a white board, a marker, a “Happy Birthday” balloon, and nothing more. It’s a classic Fringe way of telling a story of epic proportions on a shoestring budget, with a performer who brings it to life through full commitment and emotion. You see and hear every gasp and breath, and Ellbogen carries the full journey beautifully.

It’s an interesting form of escapism because it feels dramatic and intimate, but there’s also a “dark whimsy” to it. Oisin leaves a family that wasn’t the greatest, survives a life-threatening situation with humor on his side, and still comes home to a different world. “When someone tells you to stay, stay; when someone tells you to leave, leave” is a recurring motif in this play. Yet all the humor makes the overall feel funny in a sad way.

Prey Most Difficult
A solo retelling of Irish mythology by Sad Druid Productions

Running Time: 60 minutes
Dates and Times:

• Wednesday, July 16, 8:00p
• Friday, July 18, 6:00p
• Sunday, July 20, 2:30p
• Saturday, July 26, 5:45p
• Sunday, July 27, 3:45p

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

Genre: Solo performance, storytelling

Directed by: Corvin Kevlihan
Playwright: Corvin Kevlihan
Performed by: Erin Ellbogen

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

The post 2025 District Fringe Review: ‘Prey Most Difficult’ by Corvin Kevlihan (4 stars) appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

The magic of audience participation is that you never quite know what to expect. In an early moment at GALA Hispanic Theatre’s Botiquin de Boleros Columbia Heights (Columbia Heights Bolero Bar), it appears that it’s going just as they’d thought: One audience member takes the mic for an impressive rendition of Daniel Caesar’s “Best Part,” with the band perfectly grooving along. A board member in the onstage seating proudly proclaims, “Soy una gringa, pero es en mi corazón,” in response to the performers asking if she speaks Spanish. Then things start to go a bit off the rails. That board member requests to change the song she and her husband are singing and dancing to. The band figures out the chords on the spot — without having had time to prepare an audience request beforehand. Live theater, baby.

This wonderfully mad improvisational energy is at the heart of the cabaret experience happening at GALA right now. In Botiquin de Boleros, Columbia Heights, magic abounds in a visually stunning and passionately performed new musical with a book by Rubén Leon and adapted by artistic director Gustavo Ott. In what might be A Chorus Line meets In the Heights, the “Columbia Heights Bolero Bar” is auditioning for new performers and preparing to reopen on November 6, 2024 — one day after the last presidential election. Co-owners Veronica (a grounded, logical presence in Fran Tapia) and Claudia (a sparkly physical dynamite in Anna Malavé) harbor hidden secrets: Veronica’s work visa has expired; Claudia is an ex-con. Combining traditions of musical theater cabaret, immersive theater, and bolero songs, a musical tradition from Latinx countries including Mexico and Cuba, arranged and orchestrated for this show — all performed in Spanish with English supertitles — Botiquin de Boleros takes audiences through a beautiful slice-of-life experience, with a plot that thickens in the second act.

It’s intimate yet expansive, with passionate, powerful, and vibrant performances with big conflicts that reach high peaks in small moments. Even for someone who might know some Spanish but isn’t fluent, this storytelling is perfectly understandable. Director and choreographer Valeria Cossu guides the company on these journeys with great stage pictures in dance numbers and an overall look and feel to its design that’s simultaneously reminiscent of a twisted cabaret, an intimate bar, a jam session in its band’s small onstage platform, and a theater utilizing its entire house all in one. In particular, the detailed, colorful, often head-to-toe spectacles of costumes by Becca Janney are awe-inspiring, making the larger-than-life characters pop even more in this staging.

This production had moments of exquisite magic and rollicking fun, balanced with serious moments. The opening trill from guitarist Jaime Ibacache (who also steps in as an actor) immediately sets the tone for the show in combination with mood lighting. There were funny language-oriented jokes that are simple yet hysterical for audiences to catch; during auditions, an eager and perky Valentina, played by Rachael Small, proclaims, “No estoy cansada, estoy de Arkansas,” as she introduces herself. The strongest moment was Claudia’s backstory, as her pain is palpable when she takes us on her life journey, being treated “like a boy” by her brothers, having to grow up fast, and ending up in prison for a period of time. Malavé’s captivating and tragic presence pulls us into her world.

Part of why Claudia stood out was also because of Malavé’s powerful voice. This show is rooted in Latin folk songs, characterized by their distinctive rhythms. The beautiful, almost-wailing kind of release that much of the cast achieved in their renditions of folk anthems is heartbreaking to hear. Another standout is Facundo Agustin as Simón, the bartender previously told he “can’t sing,” who finally gets his shining moment performing “La regadera,” “La gato baja la lluvia,” and “La luna y el toro” in a show-stopping middle section of the second act. Percussion from Michael Barranco sets the tone for the ensemble, with piano from Ben Shaver keeping everyone together. Every time Ibacache plays a difficult guitar run like it’s nothing, one may just ascend. A band that can maintain the beat while allowing for freedom to flow and groove, especially with music that’s important to its culture like this, is so fun to hear, and Walter “Bobby” McCoy excelled in supervising the music.

This show has all the ingredients to be exactly what this city needs right now, with these performances, this heart, this look and feel. I walked out of the theater uplifted, but not quite empowered to action, because I saw something fun with performers who elevated the material into an experience. Case in point: our young lovers. The co-founders have long backstories: Dino (with fun dramatic flair and a strong tenor by Luis Obed) and Valentina, a little less so. We know they had broken up and didn’t expect to see each other at these auditions. They have a lovers’ spat that takes them all around the theater in a hysterically staged rendition of Consuelo Velasco Torres’ “Bésame mucho,” where the audience interaction went crazy. But there isn’t much to them beyond “she kisses and leaves” and “he kisses and hurts” — at the end of the show, I’m not particularly sure if I want them back together.

As a work of live theater, this presentation is worth seeing. The ensemble clearly loves creating this world together, and that is always wonderful to see. These performances are in a story that could use a bit more depth to fully capture the experience it aims to convey to its audience. I did wonder: Is it immersive just to be immersive for fun, or will the immersion ultimately lead us to a dramatic “look at yourself” moment? Am I expecting this show to be like Cabaret or Here Lies Love when it’s intended to be more a celebration than an indictment? When we do get an indictment, it’s a moment one might be waiting for.

There were overt political messages, especially in Fran Tapia’s character Verónica delivering an emotionally brave and passionately bold monologue about her visa status and the concept of “waiting.” Given the increased ICE raids around the country at the time, the question of her status — symbolized by the unanswered question of what her dreaded red letter said — was a palpable one to see. I’m not saying that every single character needed to go that far, but I did want to see more specificity beyond pretty prose in the individual stories from everyone.

This is the first production I’ve seen since the election that actually discusses the election, saying that with the current president in office, we’re going to need boleros now more than ever. It’s definitely important. However, it felt like this is the “origin” story, the limbo period of anticipation and waiting, but not the full story of what this cabaret could be. I wish we could have actually seen it opening, getting shut down by police, and re-opening again on repeat — which they allude to. The lines revealing that future pack the strongest punch in talking about the effect of the election, and in being genuinely funny and moving storytelling. There would have been more interesting conflict to actually see that. Since it didn’t seem that half the cast was particularly concerned about the election until the end, the main interest was the cabaret itself. A more politically moving plot beyond “it’s the night of the election” could have been more powerful.

Reopening in the first place, is still an act of revolution. The question of whether it’s possible to open remains a palpable one: how can anything beautiful begin during a time of such chaos? This show demonstrates that it’s possible to create art that responds to its city. As a character study, we do see what the lifeblood of this cabaret could look like. We see their hearts, their minds, their hopes, even if we don’t know their futures. And that life is so worth seeing right now. Oh, to imagine if there truly were a lively, entertaining, special cabaret centering Latino performers in Columbia Heights after the 2024 presidential election! It doesn’t have to be imaginary if you see this show. 

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

Botiquín de Boleros Columbia Heights (Columbia Heights Bolero Bar) plays through June 29, 2025, at GALA Hispanic Theatre, 3333 14th Street NW, Washington, DC. Purchase tickets online.  Four on-stage seats are $70 each and four close-to-stage seats are $60 each for all performances. Regular tickets are $48 (Wednesday through Sunday), $50 (Friday and Saturday), $35 (seniors 65+, military personnel, and groups of 10+), $25 (25 under). Rush tickets are $20 each and are available for every performance starting 30 minutes before showtime. To get rush tickets for 8 p.m. performances, show up at the Box Office at 7:30 p.m. and for 2 p.m. performances, show up at 1:30 p.m. For more information, visit galatheatre.org or call (202) 234-7174.

In Spanish with English surtitles.
Recommended for ages 13+.

The playbill for Botiquín de Boleros Columbia Heights (Columbia Heights Bolero Bar) is downloadable here (scroll down).

COVID Safety: All performances are mask-optional. See GALA’s complete COVID-19 Safety Policy.

Botiquín de Boleros Columbia Heights (Columbia Heights Bolero Bar)
By Rubén León (Venezuela)
Adapted by Gustavo Ott
Directed & Choreographed by Valeria Cossu

SEE ALSO:
GALA to close season with cabaret-style ‘Botiquín de Boleros Columbia Heights (Columbia Heights Bolero Bar) (news story, May 16, 2025)

The post GALA’s ‘Botiquin de Boleros Columbia Heights’ dazzles and delights appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

“To be an artist means never to avert one’s eyes.” — Akira Kurosawa

If I were Julia Izumi thinking of a question to ask fellow actors in a meta-theatrical play, I’d want to ask one that’s been on my mind a lot recently: Do you think theater can be transformative? What can it really do when the world is on fire? Subversive art may be a weird way of communicating comfort. Yet it also makes sense to my brain, which likes things to be complicated and analyzable, even when the world could be simple. To put things in boxes, then completely turn them on their head, makes life a lot more interesting. With Akira Kurosawa at Woolly Mammoth, Julia Izumi aims to dismantle cultural labeling, and in telling a personal story, she’s as universally understood as Kurosawa himself is.

Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt (with live and active cultures!) is an AAPI theater form- and content-loving critic’s dream come true, brought to life with a combination of boldly wild exaggeration and deeply grounded realism. It’s beautifully hysterical, and irreverent yet reverent. Julia Izumi’s (auto)biographical play explores the life of acclaimed filmmaker Akira Kurosawa, one of the most revered Japanese artists, intertwined with Izumi’s own traumas as a Japanese American…and random facts about yogurt. It’s not just about Kurosawa. It’s about identity and culture, grief and guilt, and understanding and truth.

Izumi pretends she knows more than she does about Kurosawa (she’s only actually seen Seven Samurai), but her play highlights three important facts: Kurosawa’s brother, Heigo — a benshi (Japanese performer who played music to narrate silent films) — influenced his work; Izumi’s mother, a painter who mostly volunteers at the Met these days, influenced Izumi’s artistry. Heigo committed suicide; so did Izumi’s uncle, whose funeral her mother didn’t attend because 12-year-old Izumi told her not to. And Japanese grief is weird; there is no word in Japanese for “miss.” Izumi goes both beautifully poetic and absolutely crazy. We love her for it.

One of the funniest things about this production is how director Aileen Wen McGroddy approaches her actors’ theatrical and meta-theatrical responses to Julia’s extreme, flawed choices. It’s funny when they embrace the style, like explaining yogurt of varying brands themselves, bursting into song, movement, and dance out of nowhere — including Jihan Haddad (covering for Ashil Lee) on ukulele, Lizzy Lewis and Haddad’s silly accents and “Alfredo kicks” as “first weeb” Italian Japanologist Giuliana Stramagioli, and Jamar Jones’ soulful theme song of “Kurosawa teeeaaa tiiime.” It’s also funny when they’re confused. Why do they have to play other characters — some of which they find offensive and show hesitation toward playing? Why is Julia writing about a filmmaker she barely knows? Is that appropriation? And what is the yogurt supposed to mean?

It’s ultimately painfully called out by charming and chill Japanese American actor Kento Morita that the yogurt interjections are a means of avoidance and deflecting from her problems. It’s at once a hysterical and heartbreaking tool, to both connect and distance the audience. Her ensemble did what she wanted the audience to do — push, question, try to understand, see past Julia’s lies — and it feels natural, funny, and relatable. When Julia finally gets real, Morita as himself offers the support of being able to talk about Japanese American issues together. And Morita as Kurosawa shows her how his brother influenced his work. It’s powerful to see that you can make a whole show based on things you don’t know, and somehow learn more about yourself.

As much as actors questioned Julia, Julia also questioned them, posing questions like “Have you ever felt not enough or too much of something?” and “Do you consider yourself a perfectionist?” (The audience is also asked to raise their hands if they can relate.) Each actor had a turn to share personal stories about their identities, as simple or as in-depth as they chose, then explain Kurosawa in a new wackadoo way. It’s refreshing to see them play themselves and others seamlessly — all including portrayals of Heigo and Kurosawa in turns, too.

Also fundamental to the show was the use of film in its design. As a whole, it creates a stripped down yet expansive, and contemporary yet classic look and feel onstage, for Wen McGroddy’s part. Projections and video design via a live camera feed with close-ups in black and white are the main tools of establishing the environment, brilliantly crafted by Patrick Lord. To add to the hilarity, projections of videos like the 1980s “Dannon body” ad play multiple times, and a spoof of the Star Wars theme with traditional Japanese instruments is played at one point. On a more serious note, projections of interstitial titles are used to narrate the brotherhood of Akira and Heigo — spoken in Japanese to the side by Morita, physically manifested with no vocals onstage by other ensemble members, and translated by supertitles while Julia converses in English.

Intertitles, in a tongue-in-cheek tone, are also used to tell Julia’s underlying story about the unspoken grief that she and her mother experience — she can’t say it herself otherwise. They’re often paired with Julia telling a completely different story than what’s written. For a show that said films are meant to be seen and not explained, the fact that some words were unspoken, those underlying words were seen, and you could see what was said and not said, makes the unseen seen.

Asian elders often think pursuing art is hard because it’s scary, and chances of survival are uncertain. That may be a reason why Izumi’s mother gave up painting. It’s powerful to see a bold new play that not only promotes the ability of storytelling to help us survive but pushes the form forward, gives comfort in living with the guilt that comes with grief that may never be fully resolved, and ultimately shares the fundamental value of art. A play that says we should keep our eyes open.

Running Time: About one hour and 45 minutes, no intermission,

Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt (with live and active cultures!) plays through June 1, 2025, produced in partnership with New Georges NYC at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company, 641 D St NW, Washington, DC. Tickets ($55-$83, with discounts available and a limited number of PWYW tickets starting at $5 for every show) can be purchased online, by phone at 202-393-3939 (Wednesday–Sunday, 12:00–6:00 p.m.), by email (tickets@woollymammoth.net), or in person at the Sales Office at 641 D Street NW, Washington, DC (Wednesday–Sunday, 12:00–6:00 p.m.). Discount tickets are also available on TodayTix.

The digital playbill is downloadable here.

COVID Safety: Masks are optional in all public spaces at Woolly Mammoth Theatre except for a mask-required performance Thursday, May 22, 8pm. Woolly’s full safety policy is available here.

Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt (with live and active cultures!)
By Julia Izumi
Presented by Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company and New Georges NYC

Director: Aileen Wen McGroddy
Costume Designer: Camilla Dely
Dramaturg: Sonia Fernandez
Lighting Designer: Venus Gulbranson
Scenic Designer: Mischa Kachman
Video and Projection Designer: Patrick W. Lord
Sound Designer: Tosin Olufolabi
Casting Directors: Geoff Josselson, CSA and Jorge Acevedo
Stage Manager: JuanCarlos Contreras

CAST
Julia/Playwright: Julia Izumi
Jamar Jones
Ashil Lee
Lizzy Lewis
Kento Morita
Cover: Jihan Haddad

CREW & PRODUCTION TEAM
Assistant Production Manager: Madison Bahr
Assistant Stage Manager: Fe Miranda
Associate Scenic Designer: Sarah Beth Hall
Associate Costume Designer: Logan Benson
Associate Projection Designer: Clara Ashe-Moore
Associate Lighting Designer: Sage Green
Associate Sound Designer: Ian Vespermann
SDCF Fellow/Assistant Director: Rebecca Rovezzi
Lighting Supervisor: Sarah Chapin
Costume Supervisor: Jessica Utz
Props Supervisor: Eli Golding
Sound Supervisor: Ian Vespermann
Lighting Programmer: Susannah Cai, Angela Armstrong
Video and Projection Programmer: Jerran Kowalski
Crew and Production Team Rehearsal Production Assistant: Briana Padgett
Performance Production Assistant: Erin Schoff
Audio Assistant: Kristie Taiwo-Makanjuola
Wardrobe Supervisor: Sydney E. Bronaugh
Run Crew: Adam Franks
Light Board Operator: Dahvi Walker
A/V Board Operator: Macayla Leigh
Scenic Charge: Yaritza Pacheco
Staff Carpenters: Mickey Cappiello, Lily Anglin
Welder: Faye Joseph
Carpenters: Hakeem Ford, Carlos Hernandez, Jaye Overton, Zhy Strowbridge, Velli Jones, Jo Lau’ren Peele, Adam Franks, Randi Lee
Electricians: Annie Choudhury, Milan Robinson, Max Abramovitz, Isa Pelegero, Jordan Patnett, Jimmy Engelkemier, Benjamin Knauth, Connor Skalitzky, Toni Rachal

SEE ALSO:
Woolly Mammoth to present ‘Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt (with live and active cultures!)’ (news story, April 25, 2025)

The post Wild and wackadoo ‘Akira Kurosawa…’ debuts at Woolly Mammoth appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

If I were to describe Young Artists of America’s (YAA) gala production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame at Strathmore Music Center in five words, it would be: huge, crazy talented, comfortably mature. I never thought I would see a production of Disney’s Hunchback in the DC area; I couldn’t think of a DC theater with the space and resources to do it justice. But YAA’s presentation this past weekend may just be the shining example of how to do it, with semi-staged treatment yet full commitment in a concert production; impressive maturity and lively age-appropriate choices by its principals; and a special spirit with over 200 young people.

An adaptation of the classic Disney Renaissance movie with a beloved Alan Menken score, based on Victor Hugo’s book, it follows hunchback Quasimodo’s journey to find freedom while living as a ward to the misguided priest Frollo, who wants gypsies like Esmeralda and leader Clopin gone from Paris. The soldier Phoebus has returned from war and is changing his mind about following orders. There’s a love square of sorts; everyone’s in love with Esmeralda — Phoebus’ love returned, Quasimodo’s unrequited, and Frollo’s in the form of lust and “savior complex”— but Esmeralda really likes Phoebus. (Not the fault of this production, but in this adaptation, Esmeralda, Phoebus, and Frollo’s stories feel more expanded at the expense of Quasimodo’s arc, especially in the second act. There’s some room for development.)

This musical was produced at Paper Mill Playhouse in 2015, which I saw when I was in high school. In direction, I noticed an element of the original concept: Quasimodo stepping out from the ensemble to put on the hunchback costume and taking it off at the end of the show, symbolizing his physical disability. Most production design seemed to want to bring the movie to life onstage as much as possible to make up for not having large sets, including Esmeralda’s iconic dress, realistic gargoyle head props on long sticks, an extensive costume for a hysterical visual gag with the one-scene character of Saint Aphrodisius, stark robes for storytellers, colorful dresses for the gypsies, and projections on a screen upstage of the action with scenes of Notre Dame, Paris, and various locales. In this production, director Carole Graham Lehan and choreographer Alyxzandra Blanch worked with limited playing space in front of and behind the orchestra and still created interesting stage pictures.

The orchestra needed that space because it was a 50-piece orchestra. Theaters don’t do this show often because it requires a choir beyond the ensemble, and enough to lose from doing a show with less name recognition than other Disney options. For YAA, it took collaborations with multiple programs they run to make it happen: their musical theater company, orchestra, and three choirs in the choir lofts above the stage (which included their two choirs and an invited choir from Richard Montgomery High School). Vocal director Rolando Sanz and the choral preparation team of Paul Heinemann, Kathryn Bailey Erath, and Sidney Clarke-Lequerique accomplished a wondrous feat. The show seems fit for YAA due to its scale (all those families had to come!) and its leadership’s ability to inspire truthfulness to the story.

Luka van Herksen’s Quasimodo was soft yet strong: subtle in his acting choices in the “real world,” where the character struggles with speech, and more expressive in his own little world with the gargoyles. It made for a production where the big choices of Frollo and Esmeralda made it more of an ensemble story, not just Quasimodo’s story. The casting of a Black teen in this role is inspired, especially as he interacts with a fellow Black cast member at the end of the show when he removes the hunchback clothing and passes it on to him. I wonder why the direction had him physically hold his face at times, when the point is that the actor isn’t actually physically disfigured, and focus shouldn’t be on his face. But in his solo moments, he takes control. His voice had interesting pop/rock inflections, making classic Disney music his own.

As Frollo, Ryan Robbins had much maturity with his strong, deep bass voice, making him the one to watch right from the beginning of the show. He could be eerily calming and somehow logical, then at the next moment, terrifying. He commanded a fierce presence. Veronica Romero gave a Disney princess-like take on the role of Esmeralda, an empowered gypsy woman who wants to be treated right. It was perhaps less gritty, but still captivating, because she had such a bright presence and a gorgeous, soprano voice that shone in her take on “God Help the Outcasts.” I appreciate that the production didn’t gloss over the sexualization of her character in interactions between Frollo and Esmeralda, but stayed cognizant of the fact that she was played by a high schooler and didn’t force her to go through more than that.

Jesse Kliman’s Clopin and Seger Ott-Rudolph’s Phoebus were classic portrayals of the characters, making strong physical and vocal choices as actors and singers that characteristically defined the magical leader of the gypsies and the traditional tenor love interest. (Kliman also held down the bass part in ensemble moments; amid all the choirs and the ensemble, I could make out his amplified voice.)

Standouts from the ensemble were Anah Ambuchi, Sofia Bailey Guerra, Sophie Beck, Harper Herndon, Erin Leberknight, Nyah Magsino, Hamsini Tikkisetti, and Lexi Whelan as the gargoyles, with entertaining encouragement and attitude toward Quasimodo — and well-executed choreography with their gargoyle prop heads. And the storytellers narrating with solo lines throughout all had their own perspective as they shared Quasimodo’s story.

There was so much strength and confidence. There were the littlest of nit-picky line reading moments, but it’s not worth it to point them out because of the empowerment and joy that cancels them out. Any notes on “Be just a bit more truthful!” or “Let the moment linger a little longer and land more!” would be figured out with more than one performance in such a vast space.

To someone who’s been part of youth-driven theater environments in the DC area, and young pre-professional training programs of similar caliber to YAA growing up, this is a program with incredible resources. Being part of such programs makes a difference; the seniors who burst into tears when they received scholarships after the show exemplify this. Even professional performers rarely get to do musical theater with a full orchestra conducted by Kristofer Sanz, who had to cue five different groups at once at any given moment. This was a special mega-performance: not just your average Hunchback. It was inspiring to see it in a time when one could use a lot of hope.

Running Time: Two hours and 30 minutes, with a 15-minute intermission.

Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame played one night only, April 26, 2025, presented by Young Artists of America performing at the Music Center at Strathmore, 5301 Tuckerman Lane, North Bethesda, MD.

The program for Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame is online here.

Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Music by Alan Menken
Lyrics by Stephen Schwartz
Book by Peter Parnell
Based on the Victor Hugo novel and songs from the Disney film

SEE ALSO:
Young Artists of America to present largest production of Disney’s ‘Hunchback’ ever staged (news story, March 27, 2025)

The post Disney’s ‘Hunchback’ by Young Artists of America stuns at Strathmore appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

Uprooted: On my dance background

I gave up on hardcore classical ballet midway through elementary school because I didn’t want to leave my house on Saturday mornings anymore. When I got to middle school, I would get up at 6 a.m. on Saturdays to get to 7 a.m. synchronized skating practice. (It might have been even earlier.) Little mover Daniella…had her priorities in order. Something about the pressure, gliding, and fluid motions of skating made me feel freer. There was also the fact that I saw more Asians at the rink in the early 2000s and 2010s.

These days, I don’t really dance…or skate. I’ll move when a show calls for it and primarily dance for musical theater. I skate once every winter on outdoor DC ice rinks and show off at public sessions. I have better tools to express myself through movement after taking classes in college, especially in a dance improvisation class that expanded my sense for identifying and analyzing movement. So I can still flow. But I can’t jerk; the minutiae of isolations and fast-paced phrases can scare me. I’m an artist who works through words and music — and my body is still working to wake up, fully commit, and help me out as I try to perform again.

I wonder if I’ve forgotten where I came from. I wonder if the instincts in my body from my childhood still somehow serve me, somewhere deep down. I wonder if I think more about fight or flight than about allowing myself to feel free, and I wonder if the lack of strong movement in my life has hindered me.

Walking into Dana Tai Soon Burgess Dance Company’s An Asian American Dance Journey concert at Woolly Mammoth Theatre — the first in a new partnership between the longtime DC-based companies — I was afraid that I would have no critical thought. I forgot just how much dance could make me feel…until I was engulfed in it. I instinctually remembered how just a slight change of movement or position could tell poignant, striking stories that ignite wonderings for where AAPI communities come from, where they are now, where they could go.

Controlled: On An Asian American Dance Journey

For choreographer Dana Tai Soon Burgess, his ancestors, family, experience, craft, and art are everything. As a fourth-generation Korean American and the first-ever choreographer-in-residence at the Smithsonian, he aims to explore human experiences with a personal yet universal perspective.

His modern dance style is precise, defined, methodical, and assured, with a sense of push and pull that emphasizes contrasts between angular and straight, then fluid and flowing, movements. There is flowing energy that suddenly stops. There’s a lot of folding and unfolding that encapsulates the undulating feeling of feeling in your body, or not feeling in your body. It’s a style that encapsulates all I loved about skating, and all I fear about dance, and somehow makes it both scary and comfortable to witness.

The three pieces in An Asian American Dance Journey evoke new homes amid stressful realities. In these stories about specific Asian American experiences, you’re whisked away into three different worlds with connecting threads: A sense of assurance and identity that’s being taken away because of new life circumstances and then controlled and reclaimed. And isn’t that the Asian American experience, to be brought into a world where you live with your own experience but then have to deal with everything that this country throws at you?

The concert opened with Leaving Pusan, which is based on Dana’s great-grandmother’s emotional and physical departure from Korea in 1903. In the piece, she travels to Oahu, Hawaii, on the Gaelic — the world’s first steamship that brought Koreans to sugar cane and pineapple plantations — and begins to work on the Del Monte plantation. It tracks her leaving, arrival, and coming to terms with her new home.

There’s a series of “unpacking”  —  literally and figuratively, as a woman representing Dana’s great-grandmother employs striking mask work with a somu mask, and dress-ography. She struggles to decide amid the pieces of identity symbolizing her homeland, taking pieces on and off. Dancing with her hanbok represents her finding new ground in Hawaii while holding onto her culture. When she dances with a white sheet, a traditional part of a Korean ceremony where one is cut by a dagger then walks through the veil of a spiritual world, she begins the spiritual journey toward trying to let go. There’s something so beautiful and freeing about this prominent solo and the collective movement around it, yet something so stressy.

After a brief pause, the concert continues with Becoming American, based on the real-life story of Katia Norri’s journey to understand her new home after being adopted from Korea by an American couple in New Jersey. Norri, a dancer with the company today, contributed what appeared to be her own image, as a little girl’s face is projected, with her adoption number revealed as it zoomed out.

The piece opens with a reveal of a woman “falling” from the sky, between two projections of clouds. At first, she’s scared of falling, then she’s clearly in control; a powerful image. Once she touches the ground, there’s uncertainty. Creepy, faceless people greet her as music gives way to plane noises, a shadowy hooded version of her appears to haunt her, and it’s like she’s a lost child again.

Then, two men greet her with welcoming touches, pirouettes, spins, and outstretched arms. They represent her new parents as they defend her against people trying to take her bags. Just as a welcome is presented, they transition to a moment in an ESL class. As a new family is formed, and her new parents hold her shoulder with such protection, the shadow girl leaves  —  a piece of her is gone. There’s resignation. There’s assurance and new familiarity but sadness at learning to live in a world that is still yet to be fully known.

The unknown is explored further in Hyphen, a piece featuring mixed media that includes photos of the company members and experimental films by Nam June Paik. In this piece, the hyphen refers to the hyphenated experience of being Asian American (which I, and the company, stylize without a hyphen; the late great Henry Fuhrmann advocated doing so because the hyphen “serves to divide rather than to connect”). Going further from siloed experiences of one person and representing a wide range of experiences, this piece feels the most abstract.

It begins with the company divided into pairs. Throughout, various small groups are highlighted as each dancer plays with jerky, fluid contractions and expansions of their bodies that present a collective “internal battle” feeling. There is visible trembling. There is reaching. There is kicking. There’s more high-flying action. It rises to the occasion of life-shattering identity-crisis questions like “Does the hyphen divide or separate?” Going from these small groups back to the collective, with one dancer stepping out to hold a camera with a passive gaze as the company’s photos are projected again, this piece — and the concert — ends by leaving the audience to feel that the hyphen brings us together, yet also tears us apart — inside, and from each other.

Free: On Dana Tai Soon Burgess’ philosophy

In a talkback following the concert, Dana revealed his own background with a sport that could be related to dance: martial arts. He “wanted something creative,” but when he discovered dance after martial arts, he was hooked and, for the rest of his life, “didn’t have a choice” as to what he’d be doing. He “sees life through movement.” Gestures, specific geometry, and hyper-detail pull him, as well as emotional conversation.

“Our universal language is movement. Every culture moves. We all speak the same language. We’ll all understand the message if individual choreographers find their voice,” Dana said.

He shared that as a choreographer, his focus transitioned from his own personal body to being on the whole space and all dancers as the medium: a more collective perspective. And yet, the way that he finds specifics is so fascinating. He spoke to his movement aesthetic in moments of “question or fear: your body has fight or flight, so all of a sudden you’re ready for flight, then there’s an internal dialogue of consideration of how to keep standing through it all,” he said.

To keep standing amid turmoil is something that was so sorely needed to hear and see. I want to dance more. I want to feel free. I want to be able to open myself up like these dancers can. I want to be expressive. I want to live life without fear. And seeing this work left me inspired and hopeful that maybe I can dance again.

An Asian American Dance Journey played February 27 to March 1, 2025, presented by Dana Tai Soon Burgess Dance Company performing at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company, 641 D St NW, Washington, DC.

The digital program is viewable here.

CREDITS

Hyphen (2008)
Choreography: Dana Tai Soon Burgess
Dancers: Natasha Ames, Joan Ayap, Tomas Fischer, Trevor Frantz, Felipe Oyarzun Moltedo, William Robinson, Justin Rustle, Aleny Serna, and Baylee Wong
Rehearsal Director: Anne Sidney
Videos: Nam June Paik, Button Happening (1965), Cinema Metaphysique (1967–1972), Hand and Face (1961)
Video Rights: The Nam June Paik Foundation and Electronic Arts Intermix (www.eai.org)
Visual Media Design and Editing: Laura McDonald
Scenic Design: Sara Brown
Music: Ryuichi Sakamoto – Albion Corporation
Music Courtesy of Hefty Records
“Sound in a Dark Room Remix (Ryuichi Sakamoto Remix)” Written by Charles Wesley Cooper III & Joshua L Eustis Performed by Telefon Tel Aviv
Courtesy of Ghostly International
Music Montage: Laura McDonald
Light Design: Felipe Oyarzun Moltedo
Costume Design: Judy Hansen

Becoming American (2011)
Choreography: Dana Tai Soon Burgess
Dancers: Natasha Ames, Joan Ayap, Tomas Fischer, Trevor Frantz, Felipe Oyarzun Moltedo, William Robinson, Aleny Serna, and Baylee Wong
Rehearsal Direction: Anne Sidney
Video Montage: Ricardo Alvarez, Sara Brown
Sound Montage: Dana Tai Soon Burgess, Laura McDonald
어화너 (Eohwaneo) Kim Young Im
Kim Young Im Hwoaesimgog
“Star Spangled Banner” (Piano), Michael Simone USA Vs England – Soccer World Cup 2010
“Suite for Violin and American Gamelan: VII.” Violin Recital: Koh, Jennifer – Higdon, J. – Harrison, L. – Adams, J. – Ruggles, C. (String Poetic)
“Chaconne,” Southwest Chamber Music Composer Portrait Series John Cage, Lou Harrison, and Harry Partch
“String poetic: II. Nocturne” Jennifer Koh & Reiko Uchida
Mrs. Kelleheir ESL Language Teaching “Spectacular /s/” ESL Learning video
Temple Bells Buddhist Drums, Bells and Chants
Light Design: Felipe Oyarzun Moltedo
Costume Design: Judy Hansen
Set Pieces: Charles and Nina Southall
Props: Kelly Moss Southall

Leaving Pusan (2002)
Choreography: Dana Tai Soon Burgess
Dancers: Natasha Ames, Joan Ayap, Trevor Frantz, Felipe Oyarzun Moltedo, Aleny Serna, and Baylee Wong
Rehearsal Director: Anne Sidney
Music: Palmistry by Jason Kao Hwang
Light Design: Felipe Oyarzun Moltedo
Costume and Mask Design: Judy Hansen

The post My interrupted life with movement and ‘An Asian American Dance Journey’ appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

When I first saw Waitress on Broadway, I didn’t get to finish seeing the entire show — and at the time, it wasn’t a show I came in totally in love with. Over the pandemic, Sara Bareilles’ score became one I loved listening to for comfort. Seeing Waitress at Olney Theatre Center allowed me to revisit a musical that I have more appreciation for now, with high expectations. Now that I’ve witnessed the whole journey, this production vibrantly captures the heart of Waitress: the power of inner strength, female friendship, and the pursuit of happiness.

Waitress is based on the 2007 film by Adrienne Shelly about a poor waitress in a small Southern town, Jenna (MALINDA), who hides her pain from an abusive relationship with her husband Earl (Greg Twomey) and an unwanted pregnancy by baking pies, pretending everything’s fine and surviving with waitress friends Becky (Allison Blackwell) and Dawn (Ashley D. Nguyen), surly cook Cal (Ethan Watermeier), and diner owner Joe (Bobby Smith). She tries to find her own way out by saving up to enter a pie contest that could be her ticket to a better life. Along the way, her friends find love, as does she, with her obstetrician, Dr. Pomatter (David Socolar).

The program notes ideas about the American dream and social justice that don’t seem to be baked into a production that pops in its brightness and calms in its quietude. Maybe it reads as “just doing Waitress to do Waitress,” maybe doing a strong production of a musical with female empowerment is a statement to make in these tough times, where a rousing story can bring someone to tears. Marcia Milgrom Dodge’s scaled-down direction makes it clear how Jenna’s environment affects her, placing the story where it needs to be and leaning in on Jenna’s pursuit of happiness.

There are beautiful moments of “fantastic dreams in a stuck world” through Jenna’s storytelling when the ensemble surrounds her with items that illustrate her thoughts and dreams, as she tells the audience new ideas for pies based on her life. Lighting shifts (by Minjoo Kim) establish different places, with a simple but effective set (by Chen-Wei Liao) that’s altered by set dressing and furniture, like bringing on an exam table or couch, rather than whole wall units. This places more emphasis on story, instead of trying to create some old dilapidated town. The band (conducted by Christopher Youstra) lives onstage, upstage of the action, creating a seamless connection with the vocalists and a fun sense of additional community.

Moments of connection, when one can unravel in emotion, stand out as highlights. This story is about inner strength: people who can break it, people who can piece it all up again, and someone who can do it all for herself and ultimately choose a life that feels right. The softer, more acoustic, and vulnerable songs like the friendship ballad “A Soft Place to Land,” romantic duet “You Matter to Me,” and almost-finale “Everything Changes” were strongest, with beautiful connection and sweetly powerful vocal performances from MALINDA, Nguyen, Blackwell, and Socolar. They make you feel like you can forget the world, indulge in their unrelenting love, care, and support for each other, and just live in the embrace of such a safe space forever.

It takes time to get there. MALINDA’s Jenna has a quiet strength: She’s warm yet cautious, playful yet reserved, trapped yet whimsically dreaming. She has a gorgeous mix of soprano with pop/rock and contemporary musical theater qualities, the style she must have brought to Once’s Girl (who she won a Helen Hayes Award for playing at Olney). Her “What Baking Can Do” is often mixed and not belted, resulting in a pretty performance, but one that could have more power behind it. “She Used to Be Mine” has cleaner, straight-on belts: a hardened, resigned take that delivers the power wanted earlier. If MALINDA thrives on folk music with mournful softness, though, give us more of that. She leans into her soft mix style, truer to her natural voice, more so in the second act, making it a stronger half from her vocal confidence and the journey that she took us on, especially as the character reaches major life changes. Leaning into softness, and letting it build into strength, makes for a fascinating take.

The supporting performers deliver acting-wise and vocally, with commitment and their own takes – particularly when they bring a sense of fun. As Pomatter, Socolar is the perfect nice guy, with a brightness and effortlessness to his contemporary tenor voice and playful physical choices that make him easy to love. Sam C. Jones’s Ogie is immediately weird but lovable, with giddy energy and full commitment to the bit that makes him a joy to watch.

Nguyen gives Dawn a sweet portrayal, genuinely loving her nerdy interests and not just relying on the facade of presenting as “weird,” with a bright tonal quality that fits the role. Though there seems to be some difficulty belting higher notes in “When He Sees Me,” she belts “I want to Again” when she married Ogie so well that previous vocal dips must have been a fluke. Blackwell’s Becky has grounded realness and a power belt, from strong alto singing to incredible high riffs that make “I Didn’t Plan It” another standout moment. She’s the best example of this production’s trend of “bringing your own voice to your character and taking it to the next level.”

Ethan Watermeier’s Cal gets applause from entering a scene with palpable awkwardness, and exiting without saying a word. As the owner Joe, Bobby Smith is a kindred spirit to Jenna. Greg Twomey is genuinely dangerous and manipulative as Earl, in an age when white men claiming ownership over things that aren’t “theirs” to own resonates eerily. Jessica Bennett leans into the weirdness of every situation Nurse Norma is in, being the sole witness to Jenna and Dr. Pomatter’s love affair, to great comedic effect.

Ultimately, a happy ending despite strife is what we need right now. A woman who strikes out to finally throw out an abusive husband, chooses to be on her own despite finding love, establishes her own business, raises her own daughter, and trusts in her friends, after a lifetime of struggle, is empowering to see. A show that can provide comfort, fun, and love is a flat-out great pick for a nice night out in a year that has really sucked so far. And maybe not overanalyzing art is okay if you’re seeing a show because you want to feel okay.

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

EXTENDED: Waitress plays through April 6, 2025, on the Roberts Mainstage at Olney Theatre Center, 2001 Olney-Sandy Spring Rd, Olney, MD. Performances are Wednesday through Saturday evenings at 7:30 pm, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday matinees at 1:30 pm, and select Sunday evenings at 7:00 pm. Tickets range from $41–$116 and are available online or by calling the box office at 301-924-3400. Discounts for students, seniors, military, veterans, first responders, and educators are available here. Additionally, Olney offers the following Affinity Nights during the run of Waitress:

Under 30 Night: Use the code Under30 for $30 tickets every Wednesday evening. Excludes Orchestra A and Mezzanine A. Limit 4.

Bakers & Bakers at Heart Night (food service industry) – Thurs. Feb 27 @6:30 pm: Use code Bakers to save 30% off Side Mezzanine seats, Rows A & B

Sweet Tooth Night – Wed. March 5 @ 6:30 pm: Use code SweetTooth to save 30% off Side Mezzanine seats, Rows A & B

An audio-described performance will be held Wednesday, March 5 at 7:30 pm, and an ASL-interpreted performance on Thursday, March 6 at 7:30 pm.

The program for Waitress is online here.

Waitress
Book by Jessie Nelson
Music and Lyrics by Sara Bareilles
Based upon the motion picture written by Adrienne Shelly
Music Directed by Christopher Youstra
Directed and Choreographed by Marcia Milgrom Dodge

CAST (in order of appearance)
Jenna: MALINDA
Cal: Ethan Watermeier
Dawn: Ashley D. Nguyen
Becky: Allison Blackwell
Joe: Bobby Smith
Earl: Greg Twomey
Nurse Norma: Jessica Bennett
Dr. Pomatter: David Socolar
Ogie: Sam C. Jones
Lulu: Iella Barr-O’Connor or Lou Chubin
Ensemble: Wynter Nicole Cook, Jay Frisby, Nikki Kim, Casey Martin Klein, Wood Van Meter, Russell Rinker, Nadja Tomaszewski

UNDERSTUDIES:
Jenna: Nadja Tomaszewski
Cal: Casey Martin Klein
Dawn: Nikki Kim
Becky: Jessica Bennett
Joe: Ethan Watermeier
Earl: Russell Rinker
Nurse Norma: Wynter Nicole Cook
Dr. Pomatter: Wood Van Meter
Ogie: Jay Frisby
Swings: Stellamaris Orellana, James B. Mernin

CREATIVE TEAM
Book: Jessie Nelson
Music and Lyrics: Sara Bareilles
Original Film: Adrienne Shelly
Director/Choreographer: Marcia Milgrom Dodge
Music Director/Director of Music Theater: Christopher Youstra
Scenic Designer: Chen-Wei Liao
Costume Designer: Sarah Cubbage
Lighting Designer: Minjoo Kim
Sound Designer: Matthew Rowe
Co-Wig Designer: J. Jared Janas
Co-Wig Designer: Cassie J. Williams
Dialect Coach: Lynn Watson
Production Stage Manager: Ben Walsh
Assistant Stage Managers: Kate Kilbane, Becky Reed

SEE ALSO:
MALINDA to headline ‘Waitress’ at Olney Theatre Center (news story, January 6, 2025)

The post ‘Waitress’ at Olney Theatre Center serves huge helpings of heart and happiness appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

As playwright Bob Bartlett’s Love and Vinyl makes its DC premiere, this play about finding love in a record store in a digital age will perform at a record store, Union Market’s Byrdland Records. It’s about best friends Bogie (James J. Johnson) and Zane (Carlos Saldaña, who also directs), who visit a local record store and meet the “magic” of store owner Sage (Rachel Manteuffel).

DC Theater Arts caught up with Johnson and Manteuffel about the process, their relationships to record stores, and the community-building that comes with site-specific work. Manteuffel originated Sage in Love and Vinyl at KA-CHUNK! Records in Annapolis, Maryland; Johnson portrays Bogie for the first time. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

DC Theater Arts: How did you first become connected with Bob and why did you want to be involved in this production?

James J. Johnson (Bogie): In 2009, he reached out to me to audition for a production of Native Son that he was directing at American Century Theater. I couldn’t do it at the time. But we’ve been trying to work together since then, and this is the perfect blend. I love music, and I don’t go to record stores as much as I used to. I do have a record player and a small collection of vinyl. I was hitting up the stores quite a bit about five years ago. I slowed down, because I was like “Do I need all this stuff?” as we were moving quite a bit. But I still like to listen from time to time. Even before vinyl, I grew up in the ’80s and ’90s, so cassettes and CDs were just such a big part of my life and my identity. Getting the chance to live in that world again, not onstage but in reality, is exciting. In all my life, I’ve been doing shows onstage. To do a show in a real place presents a unique challenge.

Rachel Manteuffel (Sage): Bob and I did this small Maryland company that doesn’t exist anymore called Active Cultures that connected playwrights and actors. And we’d hang out a lot at the Fringe bar, back when there was a Fringe bar, the year he did Barebank Ink. We were friends; we talked about the shows; he said, “I’m gonna write a part for you.” That’s really awesome, obviously. He did. Then he did it again. It’s one of the coolest things that can happen for you, as an actor: Bob Bartlett wants to write a part for you.

What’s your own familiarity with record stores and browsing for records, cassettes, or CDs? Any favorites?

Johnson: Oh my gosh, cassettes. The first one I remember buying was a Philly hip-hop group called Three Times Dope. Then there was Candyman, who had his song called “Knockin’ Boots.” Mariah Carey, her first album, with “Vision of Love.” Even going back further, the first cassette I got, my parents bought Prince’s Purple Rain soundtrack for me when I was nine years old, not knowing what it entailed. That hooked me into Prince.

Manteuffel: My boyfriend is very into ’60s music, so he has a lot more than I do at the moment. I have some Alanis Morissette, the Killers, and the White Stripes. Leonard Cohen is the only one I have bought that is older. One of the great things about records is that every antique shop has some records that are maybe dodgy quality, but you never know what you’re going to get. I think there’s no way to actually be as cool as a record shop. I just feel like everything there is cooler than me, so me getting some of it is cool.

Can you describe your character in this story? 

Johnson: Bogie is a fun-loving guy, a creature of habit. He loves a record store. He’s lonely, but has kind of come at peace with his loneliness. But he’s challenged by the presence of this new person, the owner of the record store, and her magic. He’s battling with all those things at his age — at my age, 50. Being open to discovering magic, not being too static and evolving, is what’s interesting to me. I told Bob last night, I’m getting a sense that we’re peering into his soul immensely. This is a very vulnerable piece. I feel like Bogie was me, especially before meeting my partner 16 years ago. I completely relate to this character in ways I don’t know if I related to a character before, outside of anything that I’ve written. People will relate to Bogie, or Zane (played by Carlos), or Sage, the three personalities that they represent.

Manteuffel: A lot of Sage’s magic is how reserved she is. She has this front that a lot of people working in retail have, that you want to seem like you know a lot of things, things matter to you, and this meeting that you’re having with a customer matters to you. But behind that, there’s this protectiveness you have to have. There’s no way you can — at least I couldn’t — let down walls in front of customers every day, all day. There’s the process of chipping away at it, and letting you see the real her. Because some of what she gives seems to be the real her, then that eventually is broken down. I’m not sure she’s any cooler than anyone else once you see that come down. That’s the best part.

 How would you describe the experience of listening to records?

Johnson: Back then, when you wanted to hear something specific, you had to work to find it. Whether it was going to the store to buy it, and there’s a chance that it might not be there, or once you actually had it, and you want to listen to song number five, you had to fast forward, if it’s a cassette, through all the other songs, and hopefully you’ll land in the area that you’re looking for, as opposed to, “Let me just click this button and boom, the song is there.” That’s the big difference as someone who comes from cassettes to digital. I don’t miss cassettes as much. I do kinda miss CDs. Vinyl was big, as a format for listening, but it also was physically big. There’s something about flipping with your fingers, the excitement of coming across an album you love or something you hadn’t seen in a while. I was running into singers I hadn’t heard since the ’80s as I was flipping through in the store.

Manteuffel: The last show definitely got me to buy a turntable. Now I have records and am slowly figuring out how they work. It’s actually so much cooler than MP3s, and a lot more expensive, and you have to be more careful. That actually adds to the awesomeness of it. I feel like every time you play a record, the record is changed. There’s a physical process. Thinking about the person making this record, it being physically created, me physically playing it, and the way an album is put together, it feels more like the musician or something of the musician is in the room with you, and that’s amazing.

How does it feel to do this show in an actual record store? What elements of it are being used that maybe you wouldn’t think of?

Johnson: What’s been a revelation is the use of the door. We come in through the front door, where everyone comes through. There’s no real separation of the reality and the stage. We’re there in the midst of the record shop. We’ve been inside the record store for a photo shoot but we haven’t had the chance to stage or play it out in the store, so those elements are what I’m curious and excited about.

What’s the importance of building community in this type of work?

Johnson: To look at the current state of things politically, not knowing exactly what’s in store for mainstream theater…building community with things outside of the box may be a good way to go, for it to survive as a discipline. Bob has already started doing that with laundromats, so he has other ideas. Building community with Byrdland Records, but also other vinyl stores throughout the country, or other venues, so that they can coexist — the worlds of retail, commerce, and the arts — is a possible way for theater to persevere. When we were there doing the photo shoot, customers saw us, and Bob was able to talk about the show. Being there creates a natural curiosity. People there are natural shoppers for vinyl, so it’s like, “Oh, something that’s related to that!” in a space where they’re not used to seeing a play.

Manteuffel: The great thing about record people is they put in the work. They are used to having to do work to find the things that they love. If a record person is intrigued by this, they’re going to show up. Theater people are the same way, but in different circles. Record people and theater people coming to the show is a cool way to build community. I know one person who was a regular at KA-CHUNK!, saw a poster, and was like “Hey, look at this play you’re in!” I was like, “Oh, I know!” ’Cause it’s just such a different world. Also, he goes to Annapolis to look for records. When you love something like how record people love records, you’re willing to put in the work.

Rachel, after playing Sage at KA-CHUNK!, what has changed or expanded, and how is that affecting your performance?

Manteuffel: It sounds like there will be a lot more people in the audience. Having more people there opens it up. It was a small space at KA-CHUNK!, so it was more like a conversation. Opening it up, the playing of it will have to be bigger, which is a nice challenge, because it is a very intimate play. Also, there tend to be more people in Union Market, lots of passersby in a way that maybe wasn’t true on Maryland Avenue.

A big challenge: you don’t get a lot of time to rehearse in the space. One problem last time was that I am not actually familiar with record playing and I have to do it. I didn’t get much chance to practice on it. 60% of the audience is going to know exactly how it looks. If I screw it up, it’s like “She doesn’t own a record store.” It’s stuff you find out when it happens. We had all this blocking last time, and then it turned out you couldn’t really move around much in that space, but now we can! Unless once there are people, they take more space. A lot will be figured out with the audience, which is exciting but also daunting.

What has Carlos being a returning performer and directing added, and what’s it been like introducing JJ to the process?

Johnson: There’s something nice about having someone whose mind is surrounding the piece in various ways. It’s nice to be welcomed by them and them having the comfort of doing it before. I need people who are confident. I get to reap the benefits of their lessons.

Manteuffel: It’s like discovering the play again. Sage has this speech about how people leave their dead loved ones’ records at the store for her to deal with. Her big emotional connection is to her mother’s records. The implication is that her mother’s dead. So her mother’s record she plays at the end is a dead person’s record. It was something Bob, Carlos, and I hadn’t noticed, but somehow with JJ in the room, we all went “Oh! This is brilliant!”

How do you hope audiences walk away from this production feeling? What are the biggest takeaways?

Manteuffel: It’s something my character says: this is a sacred space, the record store. Beyond an individual’s feelings about music and listening to a song, there is something about being in this place that is dedicated to putting in the work. It requires more of you to visit a record store, to see them there, to get the right machine to play it, and to take care of the records. It’s irreplaceable. It’s something you can’t get any other way than doing it.

It’s been very cool for me, because I hadn’t been like that at all, to be let into that world that can take over people’s lives, in a good way. I hope the audience can do that too: get a backstage pass into the love of records, see something that usually takes years to learn about, see people who are in that space and how they operate in it and absorb it. It’s the feeling of going to a record shop and feeling like you can belong there. Like, you know what its secrets are.

Love and Vinyl will play from February 13 to March 9, 2025 (Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays at 8:30 PM), at Byrdland Records, 1264 5th Street NE, Washington, DC. Love and Vinyl runs 85 minutes with no intermission. Because of the uniqueness of the venue/performance space, the production seats only 30 guests per performance. Audience seating is provided. No late seating. Tickets ($35 plus taxes and venue processing fee) are available here.

The post Meet the magic of ‘Love and Vinyl’ right inside Byrdland Records appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

The experience of Ajax at Scena Theatre, known for plays with international themes, feels like two plays in two different worlds. It starts out as a heightened fever dream in a world of gods and heroes, with a war hero’s PTSD during the Trojan War. It ends with solemn, grounded realism in the war’s aftermath in a world of kings, as the fight for a proper burial for the fallen Ajax takes center stage. Throughout, the common thread is that the whole production is harrowing, haunting, and shines most in moments of conflict.

In this modern reimagining of Sophocles’ classic Greek tragedy, which explores the fate of Trojan War hero Ajax, Scena Theatre draws parallels between the Trojan War and modern wars in the Middle East. Described by artistic director Robert McNamara in a program note as an “American Ajax,” this production, using John Tipton’s 2008 translation, conveys the neverending American war experience: what war does to one’s psyche and how it has residual effects on loved ones when soldiers return home. Beyond this mission, this production succeeds because it takes a powerful approach that incorporates wild aesthetic choices to enhance the message while not taking away from its humanist core meaning.

Such aesthetic choices are present in the actors’ performances. When we meet Ajax, he’s a flurry of energy murdering the spoils of war because after the hero Achilles’ death, he has not been awarded Achilles’ armor  — which he believes he is most worthy of receiving. Instead, the hero Odysseus (a cool, collected Ian Blackwell Rogers) is favored by the kings, and by the goddess Athena (an ethereal Ellie Nicoll). Ajax goes through an emotional journey that ultimately ends in his untimely suicide, leaving behind his wife Tecmessa, portrayed by Fran Tapia, who is heartbreaking and fierce in her failed efforts for Ajax to continue living for her, and their son Eurysaces (also Nicoll).

As Ajax, Oscar Ceville comes in like a storm and goes out with strength. Battered and bloodied, with screams that read more as awful pain than battle cry, his intensity is palpable. Ceville is insane yet calculated. His Ajax is not only an “action hero”  — he is a survivor. When Ajax goes, it’s a shame if one wants to understand Ajax before he has to be in survival mode; all we get to see of him in the show is the aftermath of war. It’s a haunting portrayal.

He leaves his brother Teucer to pick up the pieces and fight for his proper burial. As Teucer, Eli El carries the second half of the show. El displays resolute strength and determination for justice in his grounded interactions with Kim Curtis as the king Menelaus (in one moment, they play tug of war with Ajax’s corpse) and with Robert McNamara himself as the king Agamemnon. El must convince both of them to let proper burial rites occur; it’s only thanks to Odysseus that anything happens. All four men’s commitment makes the production more present and the conflicts more real, with a clear story about respect and honor for soldiers’ service.

This production also uses a Greek chorus that sings in addition to narrating the tale (Jessica Cooperstock, David Johnson, and Oscar Salvador Jr.). The trio mournfully sings atonal and dissonant harmonies to highlight tensions as background music, and tagteam narration with split lines with flowery speech. They also create sound effects live. This heightened presence is more frequent in the first half. This makes the beginning harder to grasp if you’re not familiar with the original myth, as this choice dominates the production’s feel and results in some lack of clarity in what the conflict is. Be advised that you should read up on the story beforehand because your brain may have to work harder to understand Ajax’s present  — though that might be the point. Ajax has been so affected by PTSD that a swirling world of cacophony is all around him.

This cacophony is furthered by an awesome echo in the sound design by Denise Rose. One mic hanging from above the stage picks up all the sound in the space, with reverb amped up at pivotal moments to provide a booming echo for the gods and heroes for an epic feel. In a way, it evokes the feeling of being in a dark cave waiting for Ajax’s burial the whole time already.

On the other end of “assuming death,” the production makes the aesthetic choice to not use any physical weapons in fights, perhaps out of respect for what it says about PTSD. Every act of violence, including the first scene where Ajax kills everyone onstage and Ajax’s suicide, is fully endowed and brings a sense of danger and urgency (coordinated by Paul Gallagher), but is never carried out with a real sword or gun. This contrasts with the decision to use projections (by Sean Preston) that occasionally physically place us in the worlds of Iraq and Afghanistan, and a set design (by Michael C. Stepowany) covering the upstage wall with construction netting that evokes concealment and camouflage.

This show was a classic “let’s do Greek theater in a cool and edgy way with added music” type of staging, in a design that was “let’s go PTSD about this and really hammer home the war feel.” Ultimately, this production was well-performed and well-designed, and an interesting aesthetic was matched with timelessly powerful performances from local performers.

Running Time: 90 minutes, no intermission.

Ajax plays through February 9, 2025, presented by Scena Theatre, performing in the Lab Theatre II at Atlas Performing Arts Center, 1333 H St NE, Washington, DC. Showtimes are Thursday-Saturday at 7:30 PM and Sunday at 2:30 PM. To purchase tickets ($45 general admission; $30 military, veterans, and seniors with ID; $25 students), call the box office at 202-399-7993, email boxoffice@atlasarts.org, or go online.

Content Warning: Mild use of swearing or coarse language; mild depictions of self harm, violence, suicide, grief, and smoking; mild use of weapons. Recommended for ages 13+.

Ajax
Written by Sophocles
Translated by John Tipton
A Scena Theatre production directed by Robert McNamara

CAST (in order of appearance)
Athena: Ellie Nicoll
Odysseus: Ian Blackwell Rogers
Ajax: Oscar Ceville
Chorus 1: Oscar Salvador Jr.
Chorus 2: David Johnson
Chorus 3: Jessica Cooperstock
Tecmessa: Fran Tapia
Eurysaces: Ellie Nicol
Messenger: Eli El
Teucer: Eli El
Menelaus: Kim Curtis
Agamemnon: Robert McNamara

DESIGN TEAM
Artistic Director: Robert McNamara
Scenic Designer: Michael C. Stepowany
Lighting Designer: Marianne Meadows
Costume Designer: Mei Chen
Sound Designer: Denise Rose
Projections Designer: Sean Preston
Vocal Consultant: Sissel Bakken
Choreography and Movement Coach: Robert McNamara
Movement Consultant: Kim Curtis
Fight Director: Paul Gallagher
Stage Manager: Kaitlyn Dorsey
Assistant Director/Dramaturg: Anne Nottage

SEE ALSO:
Scena Theatre reimagines Greek tragedy ‘Ajax’ at Atlas (news story, December 20, 2025)

The post Scena Theatre’s harrowing and haunting ‘Ajax’ tells a tale of war and loss appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

For people at Ari’el Stachel’s one-man show hoping to see his prowess in musical theater, you’re in luck: he does sing a bit. At one point, when he gets a second chance to audition for The Band’s Visit, he sings an a cappella version of his solo from that musical, “Haled’s Song About Love.” In the context of his life story, it means much more than just a song in an audition. Stachel proves that he was always good enough for the part and uses the song to remind us to connect and love. It makes for a comforting and powerful moment.

This is just one example of Stachel’s beautiful openness as a performer, in tandem with a beautiful script that he’s written himself. There’s a lot to love in Out of Character at Theater J, co-presented with Mosaic Theater Company. Tony Award-winning actor Ari’el Stachel has written and performed a brutally honest autobiographical play of unexpected extremes, dealing with mental illness and ethnicity. It’s like if Dear Evan Hansen had accountability and was a one-person play in Anna Deavere Smith “playing all the roles” style. It explores Stachel’s life from childhood in Berkeley, California, to adulthood as a working actor as he fights against his anxiety (personified as “Meredith”) while not knowing how to live with it, and reconciles mixed feelings on his Ashkenazi and Yemeni ethnicities in a post-9/11 and October 7 world. With direction from Tony Taccone, the production flows energetically, cohesively, and authentically.

Stachel is wholly himself with impressive physicality and emotional range, from playful abandon to spiraling anxiety attacks, and chameleon-like in playing the roles of everyone in his life. Standouts include his portrayal of his father Ab, short for Abba; Aziz, an actor friend who keeps it real; and the many characters he plays back-to-back in the first scene after winning his Tony for The Band’s Visit, when he spends most of the night trying to hide in the bathroom. He uses accents in portrayals of Jewish, Black, and Brown people in his life, including some of his first friends in school, committing to a style of autobiographical theater to portray people as they truly were.

What this show truly is, is a show about anxiety. The recurring motif of how his anxiety manifests in sweat is an effective throughline; as he performs, you really do see him sweat. His fight with the aforementioned Meredith anchors the show, with an ominous character that suggests a darker person inside him, yet also personifies his drive toward creating art. “Square of anxiety” light effects on Stachel and projections of images like the 9/11 attackers and his social media posts supporting Brown Jews post-October 7 gone wrong, designed by lighting and projections designer Alexander V. Nichols, heighten these emotions. On a sparse wall creating limits to the space (scenic design by Afsoon Pajoufar), as Stachel tells his story, warm reds and oranges are projected. In some moments of anxiety, they’re greens and blues.

This anxiety comes with Stachel’s deep-seated lies stemming from feelings about his ethnicity, which are messy and scary because he was messy and he was scared. But he bravely lays himself bare to scrutiny to tell his personal journey fully, even if he has to include moments that, if taken at face value, could make him look bad. The moments when he takes accountability and takes space as the person he really is are integral.

One ugly truth: in middle school, high school, and the beginning of college, he alternated between pretending to be white and pretending to be Black (the latter, for longer). But Stachel didn’t see many other Brown people growing up and didn’t know how to deal with his anxiety healthily. When he returns to NYU, he sings a Jewish hymn for an autodrama assignment and introduces himself as Yemeni/Ashkenazi, after lying to his classmates the previous year. Later, Aziz condemns Stachel’s feigning of Blackness — pivotal, as Stachel actually names how anxiety makes him go to extremes via Aziz.

In another ugly truth, he denied his father’s existence for years, out of shame that Ab “looks like bin Laden.” But he had friends who met his father and got scared. When he reveals this and apologizes to his father in adulthood, he recommits love for his family and his roots.

It helps that while Stachel does “relive” past events, he narrates the story in the present as someone who is more removed from those parts of his life now. He tells a multi-dimensional story of messing up, growing up, making amends, and coming to understand and accept who he is a bit more. But not everything in his life as told onstage has a nice tied-up resolved ending. It’s a realistic take on mental health and doesn’t leave us with all the answers.

In the end, Out of Character promotes a continual healing process, despite hurt and pain, even if it’s not all figured out yet. And it is fun and insightful along the way. That’s what makes such a wild ride worth seeing.

Running time: 80 minutes, no intermission.

EXTENDED: Out of Character plays through February 2, 2025, presented by Theater J and Mosaic Theater Company of DC at the Aaron & Cecile Goldman Theater in the Edlavitch DC Jewish Community Center, 1529 16th Street NW, Washington, DC. Purchase tickets ($49.99–$79.99, with member, student, and military discounts available) online or by calling the ticket office at 202-777-3210 or by email (theaterj@theaterj.org). Learn about special discounts here and accessibility here.

The program for Out of Character is online here.

Content Advisory: Drug use and strong adult language, including use of the “n” word (spoken by an Ashkenazi/Yemeni person, not used pejoratively). References mental health issues.

COVID Safety: Theater J’s complete Health and Safety policy is here.

Out of Character
Written and performed by Ari’el Stachel
Directed by Tony Taccone
A Berkeley Rep production co-presented by Theater J and Mosaic Theater Company of DC
Scenic Designer: Afsoon Pajoufar
Costume Designer: Maggi Yule
Lighting and Projections Designer: Alexander V. Nichols
Sound Designer and Dramaturgy: Madeleine Oldham
Properties Artisan: Pamela Weiner
Assistant Scenic Designer: Sara Beth Hall
Associate Projections Designer: Ahren Buhmann
Production Stage Manager: Shayna O’Neill
Assistant Stage Manager: Grace Carter

SEE ALSO:
Ari’el Stachel on seeking a self ‘Out of Character,’ at Theater J (interview by Ravelle Brickman, January 13, 2025)

The post Ari’el Stachel’s autobiographical ‘Out of Character’ is brutally honest at Theater J appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

“Christmas Carol but make it Jewish” might be the tagline for A Hanukkah Carol, or Gelt Trip! The Musical…but it deserves to be applauded for more than that. A new musical with music by Aaron Kenny, lyrics by Rob Berliner, and book by Berliner and Harrison Bryan, it’s about a millennial influencer, Chava Kanipshin (Samantha Sayah), trying to get her popularity back. Pushing away family, friends, and traditions, Chava, or “Va Va,” is Scrooge-like for a reason. She’s turning her back on all that made her her, for validation in the wrong place: online. Ultimately, a show with chaotic, outlandish extremes is joyous and powerful. It rises to the occasion of a holiday show in the spirit of A Christmas Carol, and raises standards for interesting new musicals tackling Jewish identity, healing, and self-acceptance.

We met Chava on Hanukkah Eve, when she’s “Bah humbug”ed out from Hanukkah spirit; with Sayah, it’s more of a disgusted “Eughhh humbug,” capturing a fun new Scrooge from the start. She schedules a mean-spirited video post about her best friend and roommate Barb Kratzyt (Bekah Zornosa), calling Barb a new “embarrassing loser” to stay relevant. Overnight, Chava is visited by the ghost of Mimi Marley (Kit Krull), her influencer hero who died doing the ice bucket challenge, whose ghostly form is trapped amidst a ring light and wires. Mimi warns Chava that she’ll be “#cursed” if she doesn’t change — so, onward Chava goes with the spirits of Hanukkah. Oh, also: There’s a Dickensian Orphan narrator plucked out of the 19th century, though this is present-day Brooklyn (played with sincerity, welcoming energy, and cheer by Katrina Michaels).

As the Ghost of Hanukkah Past takes Chava back to her childhood (played at this performance by understudy Sarah Cooney, with the chutzpah of Chava’s bubbes), Chava observes her younger self. Katrina Michaels as Past Chava is a tour de force, carrying the heart of the story as she relives the journey of loving her identity as a young girl on Hanukkah, facing antisemitic bullying from classmates (including blatantly mispronouncing her name), discovering the glamour of being an influencer as a teen, and abandoning her values of standing up against bullies. Also: There’s an ensemble family member who rocks a costume with two large latkes.

The Ghost of Hanukkah Present, played jovially and hilariously by Jordan Friend, who resembles the “Hanukkah Fairy,” whose existence Chava tried to defend to her classmates, then takes Chava through what people think of her right now. Barb mourns the old Chava in “The Girl I Used to Know,”  a beautiful ballad shared with Chava’s parents (Aviva Pressley and Steven Routman), who are sad that she’s not visiting for Hanukkah. Also: Barb’s sickly cat Tim is dying. (That’s this story’s Tiny Tim, a puppet. At that point, I just about lost it.)

As she goes on with the Ghost of Hanukkah Future, it’s safe to say that Chava gets spooked and fears she will lose her loved ones forever. At this point, I wondered if this story could benefit from experiencing all eight nights of Hanukkah: if perhaps Chava doesn’t change her ways in one night, and there was a Groundhog Day-like way of reliving a Christmas Carol nightmare over and over before learning her lesson. Someone who’s pushed down who she is for so long might take time to love again. But the songs take us through the journey quickly, so it still made cohesive sense. Through the darker and the wilder moments, it works, even though conflicts in the middle section could drag if it was all book scenes — because the music keeps it together.

It’s rare to hear a score in a new musical that feels standard but also still has pop sensibilities. There are genuine earworms, like the boy-band-inspired ’90s-style choreography, “A Light in the Dark,” and the cheerful opener with tongue-in-cheek Jewish references on Hanukkah Eve, “It’s a Miracle.” This is also due to Charlie Rosen’s orchestrations. The five-piece band led by music director Caleb Hoyer was small but able to create lush sound reminiscent of holiday musicals like A Christmas Story, with beautiful woodwinds and strings moments. And big solos that could be belted are more soprano, by Sayah as Chava and Zornosa as Barb, allowing for heartfelt, intimate moments with lightness. For Sayah’s part, because her first solo is a mean-girl power pop ballad, the vocal contrast of the 11 o’clock number “Rekindled” is effective, making Chava’s transformational journey earned.

That’s in tandem with design choices that support the story’s larger-than-life, yet warm, feel. “Rekindled” ends with a deep, warm yellow spot on Chava as she kneels and prays: a striking image as she just sang about feeling light again. That speaks volumes as much as crazy strobes do (designed by Max Doolittle). Ivania Stack’s costumes are gorgeous; from classic winter gear in shades of blue to influencers’ sparkly sequin outfits, colors and styles pop and create a homey feel. In Andrew Cohen’s set, twisty stairs and gas lamps in snow give the air of a classic Christmas Carol story. A wall dividing sections of Round House’s turntable turns each side into something different in every scene: outside Chava’s apartment, to the inside of it with influencer decor, to Chava’s parents’ house decked out for Hanukkah, to school, to a Macy’s.

This specificity makes this show so great. It states at the beginning that it’s “a show for Jews” amid all the holiday shows, and yes, if you’re Jewish, the references will likely resonate; even if you’re not, the journey through regaining lost love for who you are, and where you came from, takes a fundamental part of the Christmas Carol story to new resonances that feel universal. See A Hanukkah Carol for a show that feels light and humorous this holiday season, that says more about identity, life, love, and generosity, and that gives you twists, turns, and surprises.

Running Time: Approximately 90 minutes, no intermission.

A Hanukkah Carol, or Gelt Trip! The Musical plays through December 29, 2024, at Round House Theatre, 4545 East-West Highway, Bethesda, MD (one block from Bethesda Metro station). Tickets ($50–$108) can be purchased by calling 240-644-1100, visiting the box office, or online. (Learn more about special discounts here, accessibility here, and the Free Play program for students here.

View the digital program for A Hanukkah Carol, or Gelt Trip! The Musical here.

COVID Safety: Round House Theatre no longer requires that audience members wear masks for most performances. However, masks are required for the performances December 10 and December 14 (matinee). Round House’s complete Health and Safety policy is here.

A Hanukkah Carol, or Gelt Trip! The Musical
Music by Aaron Kenny
Lyrics by Rob Berliner
Book by Harrison Bryan & Rob Berliner
Original Concept by Harrison Bryan

CAST
Hanukkah Present and more: Jordan Friend
Hanukkah Past and more: Nicole Halmos
Mimi Marley and more: Kit Krull
Dickensian Orphan and more: Katrina Michaels
Mom and more: Aviva Pressley
Dad and more: Steven Routman
Chava Kanipshin: Samantha Sayah
Barb Kratzyt: Bekah Zornosa
Understudies: Lily Burka (Dickensian Orphan, Barb Kratzyt and Mimi Marley u/s), Brian Lyons-Burke (Dad and Hanukkah Present u/s), Sarah Cooney (Mom and Hanukkah Past u/s), Bekah Zornosa (Chava Kanipshin u/s)

PRODUCTION TEAM
Directed and Choreographed by Marlo Hunter
Music Director: Caleb Hoyer
Set Designer: Andrew Cohen
Costume Designer: Ivania Stack
Lightning Designer: Max Doolittle
Sound Designer: Scott Stauffer
Illusion Designer: Ryan Phillips
Puppet Designer: Genna Beth Davison
Properties Coordinator: Andrea “Dre” Moore
Orchestrator: Charlie Rosen
Copyist: Danielle Gimbal
Keyboard Programmer: Randy Cohen
Dramaturg: Gabrielle Hoyt
Associate Director/Choreographer: Caitlin Ort
Associate Music Director: Lucia LaNave
Music Assistant: Paige Austin Rammelkamp
Casting Director: Sarah Cooney
Production Stage Manager: Che Wernsman
Assistant Stage Manager: Taylor Kiechlin

The post Joyous and powerful ‘A Hanukkah Carol’ premieres at Round House Theatre appeared first on DC Theater Arts.

“Nell’s just a lot”
“Nell is so dramatic these days”
“Nell, you’re too much for me right now”
I dunno like
I think it’s just
when people say stuff like that
they always kinda mean the same thing
you know?
like
what they really mean is just
“Nell’s a girl”
—NELL in John Proctor Is the Villain

As I started making my way out of the theater after John Proctor Is the Villain by Kimberly Belflower at Catholic University, some girls in the seats in the row in front of me were circled up, gathered in a small, hushed hug. They were having a group cry…but not very audibly. I was struck by the image because those girls are who John Proctor Is the Villain is for. The quiet ones who struggle to be heard, the ones angry at the way things are, the ones for whom all they have is each other, those who experience all the messiness of girlhood. The play is about students studying The Crucible in a high school English class amid the beginnings of a feminism club forming and sexual assault allegations that rock their Southern town, including in their own class. Catholic University’s production of this play is earnestly performed and meets the expectations of this contemporary play in a black box theater.

It’s a tall order to tackle this play after local young artists may have seen the 2022 Studio Theatre production, and when students may have read it in classes, in a school with a theater program like Catholic’s. Many moments feel palpable with college students close to the ages of high schoolers, feeling like a “smaller Studio” in intimacy and scale. Director Meghan Behm does a wonderful job in this version adding an ensemble to expand the classroom (a choice endorsed by Kimberly Belflower in the script, which makes sense in a college setting where all of this ensemble understudies the main tracks), while still ensuring each scene with the core cast strikes intended chords. Transitions flow quickly, making each new day at school clear.

Everyone knows what they’re doing and how to do it, making their individual character their own. As Beth, the feminism club’s leader, and the class pet with a crush on their teacher Mr. Smith that she doesn’t want to admit, Maria Wraback crafts a believable “good girl” with brightness and passion. As Ivy, Zoe Bernabe has both an edge and spunk; she’s a joy to watch when doing normal teenage girl things like secretly fawning over Mr. Smith, and when shouldering the complex emotions that come with the discovery of sexual assault allegations against her father. As the preacher’s daughter Raelynn, Nora Johnson brings both ferocity and a blasé “over it” air in confrontations with her ex, Lee (Matthew Riordan, who exudes the awfulness the character calls for, including a moment of sexual assault intimacy choreographed by Bess Kaye). Lady’Jordan Matthews-Mason’s portrayal of Nell, the new girl from Atlanta, has both grit and empathy, and she shines in her scene where she gets together with the clueless but lovable Mason (Joey Depto).

In a star turn, Anna Sheehan applies all the right dry wit, snark, and disregard for the patriarchy to the mysterious Shelby. She brings the character with a traumatic past to life well, from the moment she returns to school after an extended absence with awkwardness that is not awkward to witness, to her big reveal at the end of Act 1 that the audience was waiting for, which she performed with committed vengeance. (She was giving Elizabeth Gillies as Jade in Victorious in the best way possible.)

Beyond any individual performance, moments where the girls come together with strong emotions shape this production. That’s the classroom scene when Shelby returns and begins stirring up the past with Mr. Smith, where two ensemble girls have the “a student” lines debating whether Abigail Williams was crazy or not crazy that are sometimes Ivy lines; Shelby and Raelynne’s scene reconnecting, drinking Slurpees and being best friends again, with the most insane forms of giggling; the Act 2 feminism club scene where all the girls let out primal screams; and of course, the iconic “Green Light” scene where Raelynn and Shelby have their final project on The Crucible that also serves as a reclaiming stand against Mr. Smith with their classmates. (As much as I can say without giving spoilers, the witchy choreography by Jennifer Hopkins is everything, and having more students in the class creates more contrast than usual in who joins in the dance and who is left sitting. To no surprise, there are fewer boys dancing.)

The only bit that seemed to not support this trend of scenes that lived up to expectations was the staging of Beth and Carter’s scene in Act 2. Throughout, Wraback is intriguing to follow because of her lovely natural choices and strong leadership onstage. But Beth actively choosing to comfort her teacher, who has been accused of sexually assaulting her friend, by fully touching his shoulder, then visibly smiling as she left, was such a tonal surprise. Usually, this scene has palpable tension from Beth not knowing if she can trust her beloved teacher who has now fallen from grace, while still choosing to console him in a vulnerable moment. As she gets physically closer to him, the scene loses tension. One might be thrown for a loop. But as the production remains true to the story’s core after that, you can get back on track for the rest of the journey.

On the subject of adults Carter and Bailey, casting a grad student for a clearer age gap was a great choice. Benn May as Carter Smith, the teacher, feels like an unassuming, lovable teacher until the end of Act 1. In Act 2, he leans into the vulnerability and doesn’t quite feel like enough of a threat. As Bailey Gallagher the school’s guidance counselor, Grace Stephens initially gives off a bit of an exaggerated depiction but has stronger maturity as she encourages Beth to lead a class and grills Carter about past sexual assault allegations, which is great to see her grow into.

Speaking of growth, some other caveats include that the “South” of it all could have been worked a bit more. There were some spotty accents throughout and more “oo” and “ee” vowels could have been worked, though Sheehan as Shelby and Wraback as Beth showed to be the best. But the heart was still there. And a college theater department doesn’t have everything a regional theater would; we still see some actors finishing making their exits offstage with the way the set is built. But largely, the tech was done very well, especially the fluorescent lighting by Jason Aufdem-Burke, the smartly chosen pop music–filled soundscape created by Ian Vespermann, and the colorful, ever-changing costumes for each scene by Stephanie Parks.

With all the hype around John Proctor Is the Villain because of the upcoming Broadway production featuring Sadie Sink, it’s important to remember that at its core, this play is for the young audiences for whom it matters a whole lot. In a month following the election with high emotions, it is clear that these students have latched onto this show’s themes and are truly running with them. Go to laugh, go to cry, go to rage it out, go to feel what it’s like to be a young person during this time.

Running Time: Two hours 20 minutes including one intermission.

John Proctor Is the Villain plays through November 24, 2024, at Catholic University’s Callan Theatre, 3801 Harewood Rd NE, Washington, DC. The next performances are Saturday, November 23, at 2 and 7:30 p.m. and Sunday, November 24, at 2 p.m. Purchase tickets ($10–$25) online.

CONTENT WARNING: This production explores a variety of challenging topics, including staged depictions of sexual violence. This show is not recommended for audience members under 14 years old.

John Proctor Is the Villain
By Kimberly Belflower

CAST
Carter Smith: Benn May
Shelby Holcomb: Anna Sheehan
Beth Powell: Maria Wraback
Nell Shaw: Lady’Jordan Matthews-Mason
Ivy Watkins: Zoe Bernabe
Raelynn Nix: Nora Johnson
Mason Adams: Joey Depto
Lee Turner: Matthew Riordan
Bailey Gallagher: Grace Stephens
Ensemble: Andrew Annicharico (u/s Carter, Lee), Holly Bruchalski (u/s Shelby, Bailey), Mary Stovenour (u/s Beth), Alexa Palena (u/s Ivy, Raelynn), René Cathelineaud (u/s Mason)

PRODUCTION TEAM
Director: Megan Behm
Set Designer: Megan Holden
Lighting Designer: Jason Aufdem-Brinke
Sound Designer: Ian Vespermann
Costume Designer: Stephanie Parks
Fight & Intimacy Coordinator: Bess Kaye
Choreographer: Jennifer Hopkins
Stage Manager: Allison Howlett
Assistant Stage Manager: Luke Plunkett
Dialect Coach: Melissa Flaim

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