Les Fêtes de Thalie was a challenging and provocative work when it premiered in Paris in 1714: so controversial were its central themes that composer Jean Joseph Mouret and librettist Joseph de La Font even issued a new epilogue two months later called “La critique des fêtes de Thalie.” This bonafide baroque clap-back critiqued its critics and challenged audiences to determine if dance, music, or written word was the best of the arts. Three centuries later, Opera Lafayette answers clearly: it’s music, at least in this production.

Thalie begins with Melpomene (Angel Azzarra), the muse of tragedy, listing the merits of theater, which can “soften hearts with tears and sighs.” Styled in the lush violet velvet and dramatic hairstylings of the typical opera diva, Melpomene is a stand-in for the tragédie en musique operas that dominated this era of French opera.

Enter Thalie (Paulina Francisco), muse of comedy, complete with rainbow hair and a studded pink leather jacket. She proclaims, “You offend Love by making him look so furious!” Thalie is the new guard, here to inform the mopey Melpomene that her operas are old-fashioned, irrelevant, unlike Thalie’s opéra-ballet, which emerged as a light-hearted and dance-filled alternative at the end of the 17th century.

Apollo (Jonathan Woody) enters, challenging them to prove or disprove the merits of comedy. Melpomene departs, and Thalie calls her ragtag ensemble of singers and dancers to the stage, as they prepare to tell the three tales of “La Fille” (The Girl), “La Veuve Coquette” (The Coquettish Widow), and “La Femme” (The Wife).

These three stories demonstrate the importance of comedy in opera with varying degrees of success, but the staging is secondary to the music. Conductor Christophe Rousset steals the show with his interpretation of this colorful score, vigorously guiding the Opera Lafayette Orchestra through a work that has rarely been heard since the 18th century. Opera Lafayette is at its best in the orchestra pit: their performance is rich, sumptuous, and bolstered by their use of period instruments, including a harpsichord masterfully commanded by Korneel Bernolet.

“La Fille” received the most laughs of the night. De La Font’s libretto boldly puts contemporary characters onstage, though this production keeps Thalie firmly in the past, first in an On the Town 1940s fever dream. “La Fille” — featuring sailors galore— depicts a daughter who is only convinced to marry her beau after he attempts to woo her mother instead. Hijinks ensue, and though a stereotypical comedy of errors, “La Fille” is a melodically compelling piece grounded by Patrick Kilbride’s turn as the flirtatious mother.

De La Font offers interpreters of his text many chances to take liberties and innuendo, particularly in the standout entrée “La Veuve Coquette.” The curtain opens on Isabel (Pascale Beaudin), a widow, enjoying the “sweet liberty of widowhood” in her 1930s-inspired fitted suit with riding boots and whip, equal parts Rachel Weisz in The Favourite and Katharine Hepburn in anything. This costuming by Marie Anne Chiment suggests this widow may not feel any attraction to men at all, delighting only in the company of her dear friend Doris (Angel Azzarra), but the staging and characterization stop just short of suggesting so despite the clear chemistry between Azzarra and Beaudin. Confusingly, this piece ends with Isabel’s suitors strolling off arm in arm rather than Isabel and Doris.

While “La Veuve Coquette” suffered from a noncommital interpretation of Thalie’s subtextual queerness, the dancing was at its best in this act. Choreographed by Anuradha Nehru and Pragnya Thamire, these five dancers brought much-needed levity and artistry to the piece and captured the best interpretation of opéra-ballet of the night. The direction resisted modernity, but the dancing embraced it, using percussive and expressive Kuchipudi dance to enliven the story.

The rest of the night featured another comedy of errors in “La femme” — this time at a classical era masquerade ball — before another delicious debate among the muses in “La critique.” Punctuated throughout were dances by members of the New York Baroque Dance Company and Kalanhidi Dance. In addition to the arts of music, word, and dance, Opera Lafayette’s meticulous attention to detail in history is worth praising and reading, particularly Rebecca Harris-Warrick’s dramaturgy on Thalie, which can be found here in the program and also on YouTube as part of Opera Lafayette’s salon series.

Thalie is a grand piece that, in another time, would have been performed with the fuller company of dancers and singers that its score and libretto demand, but this ensemble at Opera Lafayette holds its own.

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

Mouret’s Les Fêtes de Thalie played May 3 and 4, 2024, presented by Opera Lafayette at The Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater. Les Fêtes de Thalie has one more performance, in New York City on Tuesday, May 7, at 6:00 pm in El Museo del Barrio, 1230 Fifth Avenue. Pre-concert discussion at 5:00pm at El Café. Tickets can be purchased here. Full program here.

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There is nothing that can transport me quite like a good book — except perhaps Arts on the Horizon’s latest world premiere, Off the Page. This new nonverbal play from writer-director Ryan Sellers, dramaturg Natalie Cutcher, and a dynamic team of clowns and creators at Arts on the Horizon is worth much more than the $10 price of admission.

Entering the black box at Theatre on the Run, we see a simple set designed by E-hui — a library where Reader (an absolutely brilliant Quincy Vicks) sits reading happily. There is a rope separating the throngs of children from the stage, and as the play begins, Reader communicates his feelings and expectations from the crowd through wordless but crystal-clear gestures. Together, the actor and audience take a deep breath, calming the over 30 excited students behind the rope.

As Reader picks up different books, he shows the audience pictures, completely enthralling the students. Suddenly, a book appears from behind the low blue sheets — the kids shout, “Behind you!” and Vicks responds in kind, grabbing the book and opening it as Quill (Joshua Cole Lucas), a pirate, pops out. Together, they look at the pictures of A Pirate’s Adventure, one of the detailed books made real by props designer Luke Hartwood.

Reader and Quill transform the stage into a pirate ship, using their bodies and our imaginations to explore the world of a pirate ship, including a treasure hunt (spoiler: the treasure is BOOKS!) and swabbing the deck. At one point, Quill gets overexcited and Reader helps him calm down with another deep breath — a repetitive theme that helped keep the kids mostly engaged for the first 20 minutes.

Against the background of Tori Tolentino’s bright and goofy sound design, Lucas and Vicks deliver stellar performances grounded in physical comedy and the magic of Sellers’ direction, which functioned more like choreography for much of the piece. As the library sets become the world of the Reader’s imagination, we go from the pirate ship to a baseball game to the rainforest and finally to the Arctic. Each setting has surprises and gorgeous props in store — each kid was completely immersed, to the point that when Quill hit a home run, many of the children turned around to see where the imaginary ball went.

In the rainforest, some incredible animal props await, though these become quite distracting for our younger audience — they ask to touch them, and in their excitement, there was some grabbing and maybe a little pushing. Though a nonverbal play, a reminder to students at the start of the play to stay seated when touching the animals may help mitigate some of these problems, which Vicks and Lucas handled well. They reminded the students to take deep breaths when excited, but as any educator will tell you, there are only so many reminders our kindergarten friends can process when there’s a real, live elephant prop in the room.

Baked into this play are valuable lessons about reading, trying again, calming our bodies, and using our imaginations with friends. It delivers these lessons with subtlety and, above all, laughter for kids and grownups alike. As an educator, I cannot recommend this play enough, especially for our students who are first starting to discover the world of reading.

Off the Page perfectly encapsulates how worlds can come alive when we read books. As Reader closes the book and Quill leaves, Vicks sits contemplatively, his face perfectly reflecting that bittersweet feeling of finishing a good book — or a good play. I felt that same bittersweetness as Off the Page wrapped up, grateful to have shared this space watching two versatile actors create new worlds for us all to play in.

Running Time: Approximately 30 minutes, no intermission.

Off the Page produced by Arts on the Horizon played April 5 to 7, 2024, at Theatre on the Run (3700 S. Four Mile Run Dr., Arlington, VA) and at The Lyceum (201 S. Washington St., Alexandria, VA) on April 20 and 21. Off the Page plays next at 1st Stage (1524 Spring Hill Road, Tysons, VA) on May 9 and 10 at 10:30 AM and on May 11 at 10 AM and 11:30 AM. Reserve tickets (free) online. For more information, go to the website.

The program for Off the Page, including cast and creative team credits and bios, is here.

Best for children ages 3 to 6 and their families.

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Even in death, we are still hounding Diana, Princess of Wales — for money, for fame, for drama, and now for the spectacle of musical theater in the bio-musical Diana. Despite the exploitation intrinsic to this project, I unfortunately loved every minute of watching Diana at Way Off Broadway Dinner Theatre… “whatever love means, anyway.”

In its first production since its short Broadway stint and ill-fated Netflix recording (winner of Worst Picture at the 42nd Razzie Awards), the musical Diana is being produced in its regional premiere through May 18 way, way, way off Broadway in Frederick, Maryland. Like Diana herself, Diana has been unfairly maligned since the beginning, decried by critics as “morally mortifying” (The New York Times), “wretched” (The Washington Post), and “so bad you’ll hyperventilate” (The Guardian).

While some critiques of the musical by Joe DiPietro and David Bryan are undoubtedly warranted, they are no more so than those of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s Evita or David Byrne and Fatboy Slim’s Here Lies Love. These musicals about captivating and complicated women, written by men, lack some of the nuanced understanding these tragic heroines demand, but if I wanted nuance, if I wanted to think critically about how these women shaped and were shaped by socio-political power struggles, why would I expect that from a two-hour pop musical written by males in musical theater? They have podcasts and audiobooks by women for all that — I’m at the theater to have a good time, damn it!

And have a good time I did. It’s impossible not to with David Bryan’s score, which moves a mile a minute, beautifully brought to life by the four main vocalists in this scrappy but dynamic production with music direction by Tina Marie Bruley.

After a satisfactory buffet dinner with dessert and drinks, the servers transform into actors, bringing the 1980s to life, starting with a member of the press villainously foreshadowing Diana’s death. As Diana (Lizzie Bartlett) entered, the audience was rapt — perhaps by her eerily accurate wig (by April Horn of Hair Worx Salon), but maybe even more so by Bartlett’s specific performance.

Bartlett deftly guides us through Diana’s life, seamlessly transforming from innocent teenage Diana, to the delicate and depressed Diana of her twenties, and finally into the determined activist and headstrong metaphorical queen of her thirties whose drive and impact stays with us still. Despite looking nothing like Diana, the impeccable wigs and Bartlett’s physicality made me believe she was the people’s princess, not just the character, but the woman we all love. Her journey, her arc, was so clear it reduced me to tears by the finale.

Her performance is only strengthened by her chemistry with Camilla (Megan Elizabeth West), Charles (Shane Lowry), and Queen Elizabeth (Anna Phillips-Brown). The surprise standout was undoubtedly West’s Camilla Parker-Bowles, who has never appeared more charismatic or sympathetic. West subtly makes the case for Camilla and Charles as a love story in the stirring “I Miss You Most on Sundays,” and her voice is a gorgeous match for Shane Lowry’s Charles.

Lowry’s singing voice might be mistaken for a young Adam Pascal’s, but his mannerisms and speech patterns all perfectly imitate the now King. His interpretation of “Diana (the Rage)” was worth the price of admission alone — like Bartlett, his arc is crystal clear and his transformation from petulant 32-year-old marrying a teenager to somehow even more petulant middle-aged horror was measured and earned.

Rounding out the four leads is Anna Phillips-Brown with all the gravitas and humor you would expect of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth as well as Diana’s step-grandmother, romance author and icon Barbara Cartland. She brought such poise and humor to both.

These four performances were further enhanced by director Bill Kiska’s costume design, which somehow captured the magic of Diana’s many iconic outfits. Any Diana fan will be shocked and delighted to see how this small mountain theater pulls off some of the most glamorous moments of the 20th century, particularly in “The Dress” performed by Diana and Paul Burrell (Jordan B. Stocksdale). There are quick changes galore in both acts, and though there were some technical disruptions and choreography mishaps the night I attended, the costuming and performances make these mistakes seem minuscule.

Instead of a live band, this production uses music tracks and two drop-down mics, which leads to some strange sound problems. Sometimes, the vocals are drowned out by the tracks, which is a shame considering the incredible vocal work done by the royal family. The ensemble and staging were often cramped due to space constraints, but I found myself too wrapped up in the story of Diana to care.

Though DiPietro and Bryan reduce much of Diana’s tremendous life to her marriage, the beautiful song “Secrets and Lies” demonstrates why we— the girls and gays, especially — love Diana, even now. Depicting her 1987 visit to the Middlesex Hospital AIDS ward, “Secrets and Lies” captures the activist Diana, the loving Diana who believed in and fought for the dignity of every human being, who challenged the isolating stigma associated with AIDS with fury and fervor during the last 10 years of her life, and whose work continues with her son Prince Harry. Diana deserves more respect than the press and the palace ever gave her during her life or in her death, but for the public, this song explains why she remains the queen of our hearts.

As the finale approached, I found myself hoping for a different ending. Perhaps she doesn’t get into the car. Perhaps the press— and I am acutely aware I am part of them now writing this review — will lay off her, and let her live.

But Diana’s fate is sealed, no matter how we hope for a different ending. But we tell this story, this tragedy, not for its ending, but for what Diana inspires us to be and do through what she did in life. Diana and her legacy are more complicated than a campy musical, yet it’s this work that prompted my wife to turn to me, with tears in her eyes, and whisper: “It makes me long for a woman I never knew.”

Maybe we will never know Diana, in her fullness, in her completeness, as she deserved, but this musical — flawed as it is — might get us one step closer to knowing her, to loving her, long may she reign.

Running Time: Approximately two hours, including a 10-minute intermission.

Diana plays through May 18, 2024, at the Way Off Broadway Theatre, 5 Willowdale Drive, Frederick, MD. Tickets, including a buffet dinner, are priced at $56–$61 ($49–$55 for children 6–12) and are available only through Way Off Broadway’s box office at 301-660-6600 (Tuesday–Friday 10 am–4 pm, Saturdays 12 pm–4 pm). Performances are Friday and Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons. The theater does not sell tickets online. For more information, go to the website.

The cast and creative team credits are online here.

The buffet menu is here.

Diana
Book & Lyrics by Joe DiPietro
Music & Lyrics by David Bryan
Directed by Bill Kiska

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If you’re in the mood for hijinks and vaudevillian comedy, then Washington National Opera has just the 80-minute opera for you in Songbird, which soars into the Kennedy Center with slapstick and farce galore.

This recent adaptation of Jacques Offenbach’s 1868 operetta La Périchole comes to the WNO from the Glimmerglass Festival, where it was initially created by director Eric Sean Fogel and WNO artistic director Francesca Zambello, James Lowe, and librettist Kelley Rourke. In Rourke’s libretto, we are transported to a 1920s New Orleans speakeasy, where the liquor flows and the trumpet blows. The musical arrangements and orchestrations by conductor James Lowe completely immerse the audience in a reimagined score that fuses the best of opera and jazz. Lowe and the Washington National Opera Orchestra are the highlights of the performance — they sit upstage as if they are truly the speakeasy band, and it is magical to watch the interactions between them and the vocalists. Lowe’s take on Offenbach is a refreshing innovation that gives his music new context and makes way for fresh interpretations.

Beyond the invigorated score is the convoluted plot. The original text by Offenbach, Henri Meilhac, and Ludovic Halévy was always a silly affair, and this libretto continues in that tradition. This work relies on physical comedy, alluring design, and sharp staging rather than story or poetry — its comedy is in its ridiculousness, as evident by its puzzling plot.

During the overture, we are introduced to a kooky cast of characters, including starving artists Piquillo (Ramin Karimloo) and Songbird (Isabel Leonard). Piquillo wants to marry Songbird, but she points out that they do not have enough money for the marriage license, let alone supper. She sends him away from the speakeasy to find food. The Mayor of New Orleans, Don Andrès (Edward Nelson), is quite taken with her performance in the speakeasy and plans to offer her a spot in his mansion as his live-in mistress, but bartender Don Pedro (Jonathan Patton) and seemingly random passerby Panatellas (Sahel Salam) point out it would look suspicious to have an unmarried mistress, so they suggest she needs a sham husband to marry. Don Andrès agrees and put them in charge of finding some schmuck to marry her before approaching her with a chance to be his mistress and eat some shrimp cocktail. Hungry, she accepts and writes a letter to Piquillo explaining that she is “tired of starving for art” and that she is leaving him.

When Piquillo returns with shrimp po’ boys, he is distraught to read her letter while Don Pedro and Panatellas console him with alcohol and the offer of money in exchange for marrying someone as a favor for the mayor. Unwittingly, he agrees, and though he does not know his veiled bride is his beloved Songbird, they marry in a raucous, triumphant wedding song. Also, it’s Mardi Gras, because of course it is.

The plot continues to devolve from there, but there are luckily some standout comedic performances to ground the work. Nelson as Don Andrès shines — he has the gravitas of a Disney villain, and he plays the role with levity and comedy. Justin Burgess, a member of the Cafritz Young Artist Program, brings the most laughs and joy to the stage in the role of Mobster — he nails the physicality, and his presence in the ensemble scenes made the scenes feel fuller and more complete. Both Nelson and Burgess have the physical and vocal acting chops to sell the audience on the silliness. All of the Cafritz Young Artists — who play seven of the ensemble roles — gave present, engaged performances that richly filled the world of Songbird’s speakeasy with flair and fun.

The setting was enhanced by set and props designer James F. Rotondo III, who created such a visually delicious world (and shrimp). This opera would have been incomplete without the sumptuous, detailed costume designs of Marsha LeBoeuf and Timm Burrow. Each costume — save one distracting butterfly cape — felt right at home with the world the creative team had meticulously created. The beading on the flapper dresses is nothing short of stunning, particularly when twinkling under the lighting design of Robert Wierzel.

I felt inclined to actively root against Songbird’s romance with Piquillo, who is a jealous, untrustworthy person who doubts Songbird’s “virtue,” but other audience members seemed inclined to follow the constrictions of the genre. Leonard was divine as always, though she had more chemistry with bartender Mastrilla (Cecelia McKinley), or even with the shrimp cocktail, than with Karimloo, who made his WNO debut Saturday night. Karimloo, who comes from musical theater, seemed adrift vocally among the opera artists despite the production’s use of amplification. All actors wore microphones, which are not traditionally used in many opera performances, but they were also used in the original 2021 Glimmerglass on the Grass outdoor production.

While much of Rourke’s English adaptation helps contextualize the bilingual, franglais world of New Orleans, some translations felt like they missed the spirit of the original poetry. If you are a stickler for nuance in translation, some translations in the surtitles may be distracting for you, but it is an otherwise fun, harmless night at a Prohibition speakeasy with Songbird.

Running Time: Approximately 80 minutes with no intermission.

Songbird plays through March 23, 2024, presented by the Washington National Opera in the Eisenhower Theater at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, 2700 F St NW, Washington, DC. Purchase tickets ($69–$195) at the box office, online, or by calling (202) 467-4600 or toll-free at (800) 444-1324.

Performed in English and French with English and French surtitles.

The program for Songbird is online here.

COVID Safety: Masks are optional in all Kennedy Center spaces for visitors and staff. If you prefer to wear a mask, you are welcome to do so. See Kennedy Center’s complete COVID Safety Plan here.

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Anton Chekhov once said that “what happens onstage should be just as complicated and just as simple as things are in real life. People are sitting at a table having dinner, that’s all, but at the same time their happiness is being created, or their lives are being torn apart.” In GALA Hispanic Theatre’s world premiere of Las Hermanas Palacios (The Palacios Sisters), this triumphant adaptation of Chekhov’s Three Sisters does just that.

Las Hermanas Palacios captures both the complications and simplicity of life with a specificity in its writing and design so chillingly precise that I had trouble believing I was in a theater in Columbia Heights and not actually in 1985 Miami. The play follows Olga, María, and Irinita Palacios as they navigate their new lives in exile, away from their beloved Havana.

As the play begins, we are catapulted through time and space to La Varona’s nightclub to celebrate the 21st birthday of Irinita, the baby of the Palacios siblings. At La Varona’s, the lights hum in neon, transforming the set from the Palacios’ modest green home into a pulsating club. Gloria Estefan rings in our ears as the company enters and the owner of the nightclub, La Varona (Luz Nicolás), hypes up the audience as if we were club patrons. Nancy (Rachael Small), the suffocatingly pink Midwestern showgirl, dances as Palacios brother Andrés (Víctor Salinas) plays the trumpet.

Newly arrived from Cuba, Irinita (Carolina Reyes) is already desperate to return to Havana, the Palacios’ own version of Chekhov’s Moscow — the unrealistic projection of all their hopes and dreams. All four siblings find themselves wanting: Irinita longs to dance at the National Ballet of Cuba, while her older sister María (Catherine Nuñez) wishes for a child despite the abuses of her policeman husband. Their brother hopes to play his more serious repertoire as a pianist as Olga (Yaiza Figueroa) is the fiercely protective and pragmatic eldest sister who wants to keep the family together, especially as the violence and unrest of Miami threatens to destroy them all. She also hopes to push Nancy, her brother’s pregnant girlfriend, from their lives as she threatens to wedge herself into their family, both financially and physically.

As I write this review, it strikes me that these problems seem rather mundane — and they certainly feel that way in many productions of Three Sisters. It’s a naturalistic work, certainly, but Las Hermanas Palacios elevates the original text for audiences in the United States and the Americas by making Havana the city on which many of the characters pin their hopes. Chumo (Gerardo Ortiz González), a friend of the Palacios’ deceased father, is a philosophizing fool who sums up their lives in exile by describing Cuba as “less than an hour away by plane yet unreachable — except in our imaginations.” Like many immigrants, the Palacios have exaggerated what their homeland could ever really do for them. As Chumo says in his final scene, “Exile has its burdens but so does returning. And returning for what exactly? To compare our ledger of memories to an impossible reality?”

Yet, how simple can these problems really be when compounded by the threats of drug-war Miami? They live not in the Havana of their dreams but in the disparate reality of a violent and dangerous city on the brink, where a crazed assassin named Mono (Delbis Cardona) stalks Irinita, a handsome businessman named Virgil (Camilo Linares) tempts María outside her marriage, and a priestess named Ana Sofia (Nadia Palacios) attempts to guide the very lost Palacios sisters using the Afro-Cuban syncretic religion of santería, which combines elements of Catholicism with the Yoruba religion of West Africa.

Together, the Palacios sisters and the rich tapestry of supporting characters that make Alea’s and García’s Miami so vivid come together to create one of the tightest ensembles I have seen in years. There is not a weak link among them. As an ensemble, they balance the comedy of the everyday with the pain and heartbreak of life’s worst moments with clarity and skill.

Linares’ Virgil, who has magnetism and charm up the wazoo, shines as the love interest for Nuñez’s María — their chemistry as the doomed couple is off the charts, particularly in scenes choreographed by intimacy choreographer Chelsea Pace. Nuñez also brings sharp comedic timing in any scene with her onstage sister Figueroa, but she balances the comedy deftly with the heartbreak. Her performance captures the loneliness of an abusive marriage and the hope Linares’ Virgil offers with nuance and grace. Ultimately, every performance balances what Chekhov described — the simplicity and the complication of having dinner as some are creating happiness, some are having their lives torn apart. Reyes’ Irinita’s naivety, which turns into bitter disillusionment as the play goes on, also dances gracefully along the line of the simple and the complicated.

Beyond the intense and earnest family drama at its heart, Las Hermanas Palacios is surprisingly laugh-out-loud funny, in no small part due to the sisters as well as the nasty, conniving, but delightful portrayal of Nancy by Rachael Small. Every scene with Nicolás’ La Varona made the audience erupt into laughter, up until her devastating end. But, like many of Nicolás’ iconic roles, La Varona was more than met the eye — the lesbian character, though the life of the party, was also underscored by a deep sadness that not even her shiny bright jumpsuits could hide. Nicolás, as always, played the humor and the heartbreak with aplomb and proved that, like Meryl Streep, she can play any role she wants.

In addition to the brilliant actors, every bit of design was in service of Cristina García’s script and Adrián Alea’s direction — from the moment the lights dimmed, the audience knew exactly where we were in space and time because of the pitch-perfect sound design (Justin Schmitz), the insanely detailed lighting design (Hailey LaRoe), precise and charmingly specific scenic design (Frank J. Oliva), and sumptuous costume design that I wanted to steal for my personal closet (Rodrigo Muñoz). As co-conceivers, Alea and García adapted and improved upon a classic for a modern audience with precision and style. Like the ensemble, there was not a weak link in the design — this production and creative team was a match made in heaven, or as close to heaven as we can get…which may be Havana for these characters, but for me might just be GALA Hispanic Theatre.

Running Time: Approximately two hours, including a 10-minute intermission.

Las Hermanas Palacios (The Palacios Sisters) plays through February 25, 2024 (Thursdays through Saturdays at 8 pm and Sundays at 2 pm) at GALA Hispanic Theatre, 3333 14th Street NW, Washington, DC. Purchase tickets online. Regular tickets are $48 from Thursday through Sunday. Senior (65+), military, and group (10+) tickets are $35; and student (under 25) tickets are $25. Noche de GALA tickets are $55 each. For more information, visit galatheatre.org or call (202) 234-7174. Tickets are also available on Goldstar and TodayTix.

In Spanish with English surtitles.

The playbill for Las Hermanas Palacios is downloadable here (scroll down).

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

Las Hermanas Palacios (The Palacios Sisters)
Co-conceived by Adrián Alea & Cristina García
Written and Adapted by Cristina García
Directed by Adrián Alea

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If you think you hate opera, think again — Wolf Trap’s Semele is a sexy and hilarious piece of music-theater that will change your mind.

The 1744 work composed by George Frideric Handel follows Semele (Esther Tonea), princess of Thebes betrothed against her will to handsome prince Athamus (Kathleen Felty), whom her sister Ino (Emily Treigle) not-so-secretly loves. As the audience waits for the show to begin, there’s suddenly a commotion in the audience — chorus members clad in muted jewel tones begin walking up the aisles. The performers are already in character, greeting audience members as if we are all wedding guests at the ceremony for Semele and Athamus. The audience, effectively, becomes a part of the story because of Tara Faircloth’s direction — we have been cast as a chorus awaiting the bride and groom, and we, like the chorus itself, will reap the rewards or repercussions of what happens next.

Semele drags her heels to the altar, encouraged by a scene-stealing flower girl with impeccable comedic timing (Cora McCormick). The audience feels the anxiety of Athamus and the chorus as we stumble toward the altar, which in the libretto is a temple dedicated to Juno. In this version, the temple appears to be a Protestant church judging from the WASPy costumes and barren stone walls. This stands in contrast to the lush, rosy land of the gods revealed later in Act Two.

Tonea’s Semele sings to the rafters, begging for Jupiter — the god she loves above Athamus — to save her. He sends some lightning bolts to disrupt the ceremony, and the group disperses in fear, except for a distraught Athamus and lovesick Ino. In their following arias and duets, Treigle and Felty have electric chemistry — Felty plays the clueless himbo well, as Treigle plays into the earnest despair of Ino’s unrequited love. Their tender chemistry grounds the play in some version of real life — while Semele’s divine interactions with Jupiter are otherworldly and extravagant, the story of Ino and Athamus serves to remind the audience that love is not restricted to the world of the gods, and perhaps may be truer in the realm of man.

Semele, meanwhile, finds herself experiencing “endless pleasure, endless love” with the god Jupiter (Lunga Eric Hallam), causing ire in his wife, Juno (also Emily Treigle). Iris (Véronique Filloux), dressed as a rainbow-clad leprechaun, tells Juno of Jupiter’s betrayal, setting the stage for Juno to devise a plan for her revenge. Together, Treigle and Filloux nail the playful, slapstick dynamic of a Disney villain and her silly henchman.

As the stage transforms, the chorus returns now dressed like ethereal extras from Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette. Semele arrives onstage lounging in a chaise, displaying Tonea’s excellent breath control in the aria “O sleep, why dost thou leave me?” She laments having to sleep after her vigorous lovemaking sessions with Jupiter, who is a tenor in jeans. His outfit is in stark contrast to the sumptuous costumes by Rooth Varland, perhaps suggesting that while the mortal Semele gave up her life to be with a god, he is still just some guy with not much to offer her.

Hallam and Tonea share steamy duets that capture the sensuality of this opera, both in the music itself and in the intimacy direction by Emily Sucher. Despite their chemistry, it’s hard to root for this pairing — this god clearly has the upper hand, and Semele begins to struggle with her own mortality. Her ambition bubbles to the surface, and must face the power imbalance between her and Jupiter. Is it worth it to compromise one’s own power for sexual satisfaction? Can divine sex satisfy if the partnership is not one of equals? These are the questions Semele posed in 1744, and they ring just as true in this production 279 years later.

Without giving too much away, the opera ends with the birth of Bacchus, and the triumphant final chorus declares what joy his birth brings: “Happy, happy shall we be / free from care, from sorrow free! Guiltless pleasures we’ll enjoy, Virtuous love will never cloy.” While Semele faces consequences for her affair with Jupiter, the chorus and humanity itself now have the chance to find guiltless pleasure because of her sacrifice.

If you’re an opera novice or even an opera hater, this production is well worth your time. The music, conducted by Timothy Long, is undoubtedly gorgeous, but it is the performances that make this story so enjoyable, particularly those of Tonea and Treigle. Tonea’s voice is pitch-perfect while Treigle’s acting range is as impressive as her vocal one. As Ino, Treigle is a sweet, awkward schoolgirl, but her turn as Juno is a bewitching and impassioned tempest come alive. Her distinct performances as Ino and Juno paired with Tonea’s Semele offer a powerful look at the different ways women have long battled the demands of sex, love, power, and self.

And to do all this in a two-hour comic sex romp? I could not imagine a better way to spend an evening than at Wolf Trap’s Semele.

Running Time: Two hours and 15 minutes, including a 20-minute intermission.

Semele plays Thursday, June 29, 2023, at 2 pm, and Saturday, July 1 at 7:30 pm presented by Wolf Trap Opera performing at The Barns at Wolf Trap, 1635 Trap Road, Vienna, VA . Tickets can be purchased online.

Performed in English with projected text.

The full Wolf Trap Opera program can be found here.

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In The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Abridged) [Revised] (Again), three intrepid actors attempt to perform the Bard’s 37 plays in 97 minutes. American Shakespeare Center’s latest production does it in 130. Time moves slower in Virginia, sure, but must it be that slow?

Faster is funnier, and Complete Works is a fast-paced, schticky script that includes a unique stipulation. As described by one of its three playwrights in American Theatre Magazine, the actors in each production “are not just allowed to alter the playwrights’ original text — they are commanded to.”

This edict seemed to be gospel to the exceptional Natasia Reinhardt, who played her track with believable and true earnestness. She brought a seriousness to her role that made it all the funnier to watch her as a leather-jacketed Hamlet and a Buddy Valastro–inspired Titus Andronicus hosting a baking show.

Perhaps this playing of oneself would be easier to do under the guidance of a director, but this production was ensemble-directed, as actors might have done during Shakespeare’s time. In other words, there was no single director, so all decisions on design and staging were theoretically made by the three actors as a team — ASC veterans Natasia Reinhardt, Matt Radford Davies, and Benjamin Reed.

The Complete Works also demands excellent improvisational skills from its actors — it’s a text that favors comedians over the classically trained, and this production felt like watching the three best students in your Shakespeare class try stand-up for the first time, and often enough, they do it successfully. As the play has a high jokes-per-minute count, it’s bound to make audiences laugh; if one joke falls flat, another is sure to follow. The show is at its best when not focused on joke after joke and instead committing to longer comedic bits, such as the lively interactive portion in which one lucky member of the audience gets to play Ophelia as the rest of the crowd tries to throttle her. Even if the play could have been more cohesive or comedic, the actors clearly have a ball racing around the stage in silly costumes, performing Hamlet backward. It’s a fun 130 minutes — even if it could have been 97.

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

The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Abridged) [Revised] (Again) plays through June 4, 2023, at American Shakespeare Center in Staunton, Virginia. For tickets, call the box office at (540) 851-3400, or purchase them online.

COVID Safety: Masks are encouraged but not required.

Cast credits for The Complete Works of Shakespeare… are online here.

COVID Safety: American Shakespeare Center strongly encourages patrons to mask when possible. ASC’s complete COVID-19 Safety Visitor’s Guide is here.

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We will never fully know what life was like before us — history is an eternal puzzle that we piece together from the fragments our ancestors left behind, and there are often too many missing pieces to see the full picture. This unknowing is only strengthened by a yearning to understand history and its occupants as a means to understand ourselves — what can the past teach us about our future? Who lived and died so we may do the same? It is this longing to understand, to see the past and our ancestors so fully and complexly, that makes Geniza: Hidden Fragments such a triumph of opera and the human experience.

Rabbi Arnold Saltzman’s latest opera follows the true story of another rabbi in another time and place — Rabbi Solomon Schechter (Richard Crawley), a scholar based in Britain in the late 19th century with his wife, Mathilde Schechter (Claire Galloway), both great minds in their own right. Their London home was a center for scholarship, and in May 1896, Scottish researchers and twins Margaret Dunlop Gibson (mezzo-soprano Madison Marie Mcintosh) and Agnes Smith Lewis (soprano Faith Snyderman) arrive at the home to ask for Solomon’s help in identifying a manuscript they acquired in Cairo.

Solomon quickly realizes the importance of this document and is eager to see more. He accompanies Margaret and Agnes to the Ben Ezra Synagogue in Fostat, Cairo, which was built in 882. Inside the synagogue is a genizah, or a depository for sacred Hebrew books that are no longer usable. These texts could not be thrown away, as they contain God’s name and word, so they were set aside instead in the genizah and presumably forgotten. For a millennium, the Jewish community of Cairo had unknowingly stored one of the most complete collections of medieval Jewish manuscripts, preserved well because of the dry climate. In addition to religious books, this genizah contained much about daily life, from shopping lists to marriage contracts and medical books. In all, the genizah contained 193,000 manuscripts — all of which helped to give a clearer picture and story of Jewish life in Egypt over the centuries.

As a discovery, the Cairo Geniza is comparable to that of the Dead Sea Scrolls. As an opera, Geniza: Hidden Fragments is an epic in emotion that deserves a full production to express the depth of this story. This unpuzzling of history goes deep into the human experience, and it should be fully realized on a stage with the scale, staging, and ambition its libretto rightly demands.

Geniza: Hidden Fragments was presented Sunday, April 23, in a single concert performance at Adas Israel conducted and artistic-directed by Jeffrey Silberschlag, with members of the Chesapeake Orchestra of Maryland. Without any design elements — no set, no props, no costumes — it is easy to imagine these powerful performances on a grander stage — particularly those of Crawley and Galloway as Solomon and Mathilde, who anchor the piece with emotional arias that capture the urgency of the opera’s themes. When Solomon finally encounters the genizah, the hidden fragments, he sings with the weight of millennia: “How the past suddenly rushes in upon with you, with all its joys and woes!”

All the joys and woes of our ancestors can be found in this poetic libretto, which merits a full production to match the scale of this story. We, as the audience, are encountering the history of Solomon, Mathilde, Margaret, and Agnes, just as they encounter the ghosts of the genizah hidden in its texts. Saltzman writes in his stage directions, “The noise of cracking old velum is heard, dust rises, and ghosts come down the ladder.” And so begins the second tale of this opera, where Saltzman has imagined these documents come to life!

In this second half of the opera, Saltzman brings the genizah’s documents to life, imagining the story of a wedding dressmaker named Yair (Janice Meyerson), her lover Ganuz (Nathan Létourneau), and twin sisters Leah and Rachel (double cast as Snyderman and McIntosh) as one of them is set to be married to a handsome groom (an underutilized Melanie Ashkar). There is also a prologue and the last scene of Act III featuring Obadiah (a similarly underutilized Derrick Miller), a 12th-century monk who converted to Judaism and whose writings were found in the genizah. The libretto could use some tightening here to fit all the wonderful threads Saltzman has included in his tapestry — there is rich imagery here — such as the biblical themes of twins, ladders, forbidden love — that is at risk of being lost among the storylines.

With the right director and dramaturg, however, this piece has the potential to be one of the great new operas of the 21st century. Just as the geniza was full to the brim with exciting documents, this story is overflowing and needs funding and a director with a vision like Solomon’s to take Geniza: Hidden Fragments to its next place in history.

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

Geniza: Hidden Fragments was performed in concert April 23, 2023, at Adas Israel Congregation, 2850 Quebec St NW, Washington, DC.

The full program for Geniza: Hidden Fragments can be found here. The lyrics can be found here.

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I could not have been in a worse mood than when I sat down to two and a half hours of Disney’s Aladdin Wednesday night. After a long day of nannying, teaching, and traffic, I was at a breaking point. But then, the Genie stepped onstage, against the familiar backdrop of Agrabah. The audience cheered as my problems fell away, just as they used to while watching the well-worn VHS tape of my childhood. No matter the time or place, the magic of Genie and Aladdin can make any day better, and this latest North American tour is no exception.

Genie begins our journey with “Arabian Nights,” a triumphant, full-company expansion of the film’s original song. The curtain is made of a tapestry of ornate rugs, and it rises to reveal the buzzing city of Agrabah, where the ensemble of 14 fills the stage to the brim with the sumptuous choreography of Casey Nicholaw, who also directed the production. His choreography and direction are inextricably intertwined, using dance to create the unmistakable atmospheres and moods of each setting, from the marketplace to the palace. The chorus skillfully elevates every element of the storytelling, setting the stage for the main action with the principals, led by literal Disney prince Adi Roy as Aladdin and Marcus M. Martin as a brilliant Genie.

Roy, who first played the role of Aladdin in a middle school production, captures the cheekiness of the cartoon version while offering his own interpretation of the rogue thief. It is his performance that grounds the entire production, and because of Roy’s emotional range and natural acting, it all works. Roy’s Aladdin shows immense growth through the show, and his journey to becoming an honest man is nothing short of a Harold Hill moment. Roy could have chemistry with a phone book, and his interactions with Martin’s Genie and Senzal Ahmady’s Jasmine make this story soar. Buoyed by the incredible dancing of an elite ensemble and the delightful orchestrations by Danny Troob, this Aladdin will appeal to both fans of the original and those completely unfamiliar with the project.

While the stage version certainly honors the spirit of the animated movie, there are a few notable book changes, particularly when it comes to the elimination of all the animal characters. The most successful of these changes is the elimination of Abu, Aladdin’s film companion. Instead of monologuing to a monkey, Aladdin takes to the streets with his ragtag group of friends — Babkak, Omar, and Kassim played expertly this night by understudy Cameron Simian, Ben Chavez, and the enigmatic Colt Prattes. Their characters commit to rehabilitating their thieving ways in honor of Aladdin’s recently deceased mother by becoming street performers. Their brotherly bonds make for more interesting commentary on friendship and found family than the original text offers, and it is their loyal love for Aladdin despite his mistakes that raises the stakes and offers comic relief from the more politically charged moments with Jafar (Anand Nagraj) and Iago (Aaron Choi). Iago is, unfortunately, not a parrot played by Gilbert Gottfried. Instead, Iago is just some guy, totally stripped of Gottfried’s signature humor and made into a LeFou lite with a prettier costume. These iconic villains may not easily translate to the stage in the same way Gaston or even Ursula might, but they nonetheless provide humor and danger for our heroes.

The final, and perhaps most misguided, book change is the introduction of three nameless female attendants who dote upon Jasmine. The introduction of a girl gang to replace Raja the tiger would have been a welcome addition if only they had bothered to name these characters or give them any meaningful character points. While Babkak, Omar, and Kassim get to have personalities and motivations, Jasmine’s three friends are just there. Disney — like most of Hollywood and Broadway — has a troubled legacy of writing female characters without much going on outside of their love lives, and this was an opportunity for Disney Theatricals to give the little girls who love this story more chances to see themselves in Agrabah. Though do we need anyone besides Jasmine? She has always been enough, and she remains as biting as ever, despite little stage time — she puts the princess in princess track and flies through the 150 minutes without breaking a sweat.

Regardless, this is ultimately Aladdin’s story, and it functions as his tale to tell. Roy is simply unmissable in this role — it’s hard not to fall in love alongside Jasmine as they sing of “A Whole New World,” which left me openly weeping — not in small part because it is the wedding song of my parents, who are about to celebrate their 30th anniversary. As I watched Aladdin and Jasmine on their magic carpet ride, I was struck by the great amount of love that has poured from Alan Menken’s music and Howard Ashman’s lyrics since Aladdin began its journey decades ago and how it has seeped into the hearts of every audience member that sat beside me.

Theater, at its best, connects you to the stranger beside you, and makes them a friend. This magical production does just that.

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

Disney’s Aladdin plays through April 30, 2023, at the National Theatre located at 1321 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington, DC. Tickets (starting at $55) are available online or by calling the box office at (202) 628-6161, Monday through Friday 12 pm to 6 pm.

Recommended for children 6 years of age or older. Children under the age of 4 will not be admitted.

Cast and creative credits for the North American tour of Disney’s Aladdin can be found here.

COVID Safety: Masks are strongly recommended but not required for all ticket holders. For full COVID protocol, go here.

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If you change everything about yourself, perhaps a man will love you — or so the great tragedies of Grease and La Traviata tell us. The latter makes a magnificently melancholy finale to Virginia Opera’s 48th season with an epic, insightful performance of Violetta Valéry by Brandie Inez Sutton. The former, unfortunately, has the more redeemable libretto.

Despite the challenges of Francesco Maria Piave’s book — the editing of which could easily shave 40 minutes and save audience members from resenting Giuseppe Verdi forever — Virginia Opera’s remounting is a triumph, in large part because of Sutton’s nuanced and careful characterization of its complicated heroine.

In Act One, we meet Violetta, a courtesan hosting a rager at her Paris salon. At a time when women’s lives were dependent entirely upon the whims of men, her profession offers a small degree of freedom and autonomy compared with other women of the time. Though her livelihood remained in the hands of men, courtesans had more access to the upper echelons of society — heads of state, writers, artists, politicians — and could therefore wield more social, economic, and even political power than married or single women. Her salon reflects this — between the breathtaking scenic design by Robert Little and a strong chorus outfitted in elaborate costuming by John Lehmeyer, it is clear Violetta lives in luxury.

She meets Alfredo (Won Whi Choi), a bourgeois who claims to have loved Violetta for the past year despite never actually talking to her. Like the many lovers of Manic Pixie Dream Girls before and after him, Alfredo places Violetta on a pedestal without actually knowing her all too well. She tells him in the duet “Un dí felice” that she “cannot live up to such a heroic, poetic ideal” as he describes her and their love to be. He insists that if she gives up her life of independence and wealth, their love will sustain them. Violetta, who has recently recovered from tuberculosis, is tempted by this illusion of love.

Sutton then takes the audience on a journey through Violetta’s thoughts. Alone onstage, she expresses every hesitation and hope on her mind. Sutton’s voice is undeniably perfect, but what makes this performance worth seeing is her acting. This 15-minute stretch of the production is a masterclass in acting, and it is a testament to her as well as the direction by Tara Faircloth.

In this glorious finale to Act One, Violetta declares she will be forever free as she falls into her chaise defiantly.

Five minutes later, Violetta is, in fact, not free, having taken up with empty-headed Alfredo in the countryside. Act Two opens with Alfredo finding out that Violetta has had to sell many of her possessions in order to support their lifestyle. He is surprised that love cannot actually pay rent, so he runs off to Paris to arrange his finances, just before his father Giorgio (Grant Youngblood) arrives. He tells Violetta she needs to leave his son alone as her reputation is an impediment to his own daughter’s marriage. This first scene of Act Two is slow and repetitive through no fault of the creative team, but it is helped along by the chemistry between Youngblood and Sutton as well as by Artistic Director Adam Turner’s careful and mericifully up-tempo conducting of the Richmond Symphony Orchestra.

Violetta, moved by Giorgio’s love for his daughter, knows better than anyone how reputation can impede a woman’s chances at a happy life, and she agrees to give up her life with Alfredo for his sister, a woman we never meet. She leaves Alfredo, but she does not tell him why, so his fragile ego leads him to assume she has left him for the Baron (Erik Grendahl). Won Whi Choi’s performance makes Alfredo the vengeful man he clearly is, and his cruelty is evident in the second scene of the act where Flora (Taylor-Alexis Dupont) hosts an even more beautiful soirée than the last.

Little’s sets and Lehmeyer’s costumes steal the show again in this scene — the set transitions throughout, though long, are worth the wait as I felt utterly transported to 1850s Paris. Flora’s party was even grander than Violetta’s with a crimson-dripped homage to Ottoman architecture, featuring detailed lamps from above and heavily garnished costuming on the captivating ensemble. The chorus shines here, and this opera would be nothing without them or the stage management team who orchestrate these complicated transitions (production stage management by Karen T. Federing). Without either team, this staging would feel thin and forgettable. Opera is not possible without its many ensembles, and I would be remiss not to mention this is the last production for Ken Krantz, a bass who has grounded chori at Virginia Opera for the past 45 years.

The ensemble takes Alfredo to task when, in a jealous rage, he throws money at Violetta,  claiming he’s now repaid any debt he may owe her. They criticize his outburst intended to shame her, and Giorgio also reappears to admonish his son for treating Violetta so cruelly. As Violetta finally starts to succumb to tuberculosis, Alfredo learns of what she did for his sister, and he and Giorgio are oddly praised as the two men Violetta loves most despite doing the most damage. Act Three is the slowest one yet, but Sutton’s final moments onstage mirror the Act One finale beautifully. Alfredo and Giorgio are now changed men and can live knowing they absolutely ruined this woman’s life for the sake of their own character development, paving the way for so many other male artists to do the same.

Running Time: Two hours and 40 minutes, including a 25-minute intermission.

La Traviata plays Friday, March 17, 2023, at 8 pm and Saturday, March 18 at 2:30 pm presented by Virginia Opera performing at the Carpenter Theatre, 600 E Grace Street, Richmond, VA. Tickets ($21.51–$130) can be bought online here.

The full program can be found here.

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While modern directors may be tempted to push an agenda or a heavy concept on older texts, The Pirates of Penzance is at its best in modern times when it’s taken as it is — a whimsical operetta that rhymes “lot o’ news” with “hypotenuse.” For over a century, it has remained popular because of its simple goal to entertain, and Chalice Theatre does just that with its lighthearted production in Arlington. 

Gilbert and Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance follows Frederic (Steve Renard) as he celebrates the end of his apprenticeship to a band of pirates led by the Pirate King (James Maxted) and his nursemaid Ruth (Nancy Nowalk) on his 21st birthday. Now free of his duty, Frederic pledges himself to an honorable, law-abiding life. He wanders along a beach where he meets an ensemble of a major-general’s daughters, who all reject his advances save Mabel (Kate Kelley). Comedy ensues when it is revealed Frederic was actually born on the 29th of February, so technically he has a birthday only once each leap year. Since his initial indenture stipulates he must remain apprenticed to the pirates until his “twenty-first birthday,” he must serve for another 63 years. Whimsy and duty abound. It is considered a classic by today’s standards, but at its heart, it is simply a silly pirate tale. 

This production succeeds because of its notably engaged ensemble. The pirate and daughter ensembles are intergenerational, featuring children, teens, and adults. Despite the repetitive nature of Gilbert’s book, the all-aged ensemble stays in character throughout — a feat for anyone, but especially for the students involved. This casting makes this Pirates all the more dynamic and alive — each actor in the company is engrossed in the world of the play, which helps audiences access that world too. 

The world is enrichened further by Michelle Harris’ vibrant costume design. The costumes have a specificity for each character, even in the ensemble, and they vividly help capture the setting. The daughters’ dresses and hair evoke the Gibson Girls of the 1890s while the pirate apparel reflects the foolishness of these swashbucklers. Most notably, Nancy Nowalk’s standout performance as Ruth includes a transformation from nursery maid in the first act to striking pirate queen in the second. This metamorphosis is complemented by a costume so glorious that Nowalk should consider keeping it. 

Even without the costume, Nowalk shines with superb comedic timing and a command of the stage. Nowalk makes Ruth’s arc coherent, comical, and charming. Catherine Aselford’s direction is at its strongest with her and the daughter ensemble, who similarly bring a lot of spirit to characters who are written as one-note. In particular, Molly Spooner Agnew and Molly Hogan lead the daughters with compelling vocals and generous acting. The other adult daughters excellently blend in with their younger counterparts, especially Melissa J. Dyer, who brings a childish joy to her role as Isabella that matches the excitement of her elementary school colleagues. Kate Kelley’s Mabel hits all the high notes, which is unfortunately all the script asks of her. It would be nice to see any of these women in juicier roles than the ones written for them 140 years ago.

The pirate ensemble is equally committed, and each pirate in the company was a comic treat. I found myself watching both ensembles far more than the main characters, apart from Ruth and the Sergeant (Jesper Sullivan den Bergh). Nowalk and Sullivan den Bergh match pace with the talented ensemble, and their performances are worth seeing. 

Ultimately, the greatest gift of Chalice’s Pirates is the chance to see the multiple generations who perform it: there is something special about young and old coming together to perform Gilbert & Sullivan as our ancestors did before us — the casts change, the directors too, but the joy of being a pirate never will. 

Running Time: Two hours with one 10-minute intermission.

The Pirates of Penzance plays through March 18, 2023, presented by Chalice Theatre performing at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Arlington – 4444 Arlington Boulevard, Arlington, VA. Tickets ($20) can be purchased online and at the door if available.

COVID Safety: Chalice complies with UUCA’s COVID protocols. Masks are required for all audience members at every performance.

The Pirates of Penzance
Music by Arthur Sullivan, libretto by W. S. Gilbert
Direction by Catherine Aselford
Choreography by Randy Snight
Music Direction by Darin Stringer

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The Mortification of Fovea Munson has all the markings of a cohesive production: a tight ensemble with excellent chemistry, costume and set design epic in scale and vision, and a smart audience hungry for strange, creepy tales like this one. Although the show is cleverly centered on the whimsy of the dead, the script could use a little more life.

Adapted by Mary Winn Heider from her novel by the same name, Mortification is a Kennedy Center world premiere that begins with one of the most original premises in TYA musical theater of late: lonely pre-teen Fovea Munson (Justine “Icy” Moral) works at her parents’ cadaver lab one summer when three bodiless human heads start speaking and singing to her. Yes, you read that correctly — disembodied heads (puppeteered and voiced skillfully by Dylan Arredondo, Jonathan Atkinson, and Michael Mainwaring) start singing to a 12-year-old, and they desperately need her to find a tenor for their barbershop quartet. Fovea reluctantly enlists Howe (Christopher Michael Richardson), a peer from school, to be their tenor and help make their dream of recording an album come true.

While facing pressure from the dead, Fovea must also bear the weight of the living in the familial expectations thrust upon her by her doctor parents and aging grandmother. Her mom and dad expect her to be a “Future Doctor of America,” though she isn’t sure that’s something she would want. Her Grandma Van, a Filipina immigrant, also constantly checks in on Fovea with new ideas for her upcoming funeral, though she is not actively dying at this time. This family and their problems felt real and familiar — the script is at its most salient and structurally sound in this storyline, particularly in the moments between Fovea and her Grandma Van (Regina Aquino).

Their relationship is the heart of the story. In each interaction with her granddaughter, Grandma Van puts out her hand for a pagmamano, or mano — an honoring gesture in Filipino culture that is performed as a sign of respect to elders. It is a way of requesting a blessing from an elder, and it involves the younger person bowing toward the offered hand of the elder and pressing their forehead on the offered hand. Over time, Fovea grows more exasperated with this gesture as Grandma Van grows weary of having to remind her of its importance. This deeply personal cultural conflict felt more alive than anything else onstage — though filled with humor, their scenes ground the screwball comedy and challenge the audience to think of what it means to live and die as an elder in America. It underscores how the United States treats the elderly — Fovea dismisses her death-obsessed grandmother as a melodramatic kook, but as she comes to see death through the eyes of her dead friends, she comes to understand, respect, and listen to those closest to death, including Grandma Van.

Now, that is already a rich enough story for an 80-minute musical, yet somehow, there is also a scattered plot involving the cadaver lab’s assistant (Farrell Parker) and a quasi-villain lab inspector (Jonathan Atkinson). While this thread is hard to follow, it is elevated by the strongest bops of the whole score (written by Justin Huertas), performed brilliantly by Jonathan Atkinson and the incomparable Farrell Parker. Their songs, including “Inko the Cremator Guy” and “My Dean,” drip with the spooky tone that fits the story’s aesthetic so well, especially compared with the thinner ballads Fovea typically sings. Most of her solos are repetitive and take up precious time that could be better spent fleshing out other characters. It is a mismatch — the best songs are paired with the flimsier plot points while the duller numbers get more stage time. This is no fault of the actors, who all perform their characters with nuance and spirit despite the constraints of the book and score.

In trying to fit all this plot into a tight runtime, everything feels rushed — story points are covered in a breath, characters are underdeveloped (including Fovea’s best friend, who is introduced and forgotten swiftly), and entire arcs feel superfluous. There is even an ornate frog costume that features the detailed and gorgeous work of Erik Teague, but I could not possibly explain to you why the frog was needed at all. Though Mortification received a workshop at the Kennedy Center, it could use a few more edits to strengthen the script and streamline the story. While the most engaging storyline involves Fovea and her family, both her parents are one-dimensional, and the double casting of the mother and grandmother prevents either from getting enough stage time. The book emphasizes the external conflict over the pressing disputes in the family, and this is a missed opportunity to dive into the interpersonal family troubles that are all too familiar to its young audiences.

On its website, the Kennedy Center recommends this production for grades 5 through 12 — a surprisingly wide age range — but the book and direction underestimate the abilities of these audiences and ages. Kids, and especially teenagers, will likely feel talked down to in the many moments where the narrative’s momentum is halted to pivot to a redundant direct address by Fovea. During a talkback after Saturday’s performance, director M. Graham Smith mentioned that most of the creative team behind the book and music had not worked in TYA before, which confirmed my suspicions that both direction and script misunderstood their middle and high school audiences.

While so much of the book is torn between being rushed, unexplained, or overexplained, the characters themselves are so rich, funny, and worthy of a longer script. In trying to restrict themselves to an 80-minute show, moments that could pack an emotional punch are completely lost. If given the opportunity to more fully develop these characters and plot points, this musical could have the life it is begging for.

Running Time: 80 minutes, with no intermission.

The Mortification of Fovea Munson plays through March 19, 2023, in the Family Theater at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, 2700 F Street NW, Washington, DC. Tickets ($20) are available at the box office, online, or by calling (202) 467-4600 or (800) 444-1324.

Most enjoyed by ages 10+.

The program for The Mortification of Fovea Munson is online here.

The Saturday, March 18, 11 a.m. performance is a sensory-friendly performance designed to create a performing arts experience that is welcoming to all families, including those with children with autism or other sensory sensitivities.

COVID Safety: Masks are optional in all Kennedy Center spaces for visitors and staff. If you prefer to wear a mask, you are welcome to do so. See Kennedy Center’s complete COVID Safety Plan here.

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