3 Plays/1 Stage by Shera Cohen
Shakespeare & Company, Lenox

Add it up: 2 Shakespeare plays (one deadly serious and the other almost deadly comedy) + 1 by someone else + 3 skilled directors (Tina Packer, Kevin Coleman, Tony Simotes) + dozens of exceptional actors (among them are Shakes & Co. “old timers” Jason Asprey, Elizabeth Aspenlieder, Jonathan Croy, Michael Hammond, Annette Miller, Dennis Krausnick) = a fabulous summer season at Shakes & Co.

“Othello,” directed by Shakes & Co. alum, teacher, fight captain Tony Simotes, offers a triumvirate of talent. Simotes’ stages his actors in exactly the right positions with voices and demeanor to become their characters. John Douglas Thompson (Othello) shines as the tortured man, triumphant in battle on the field yet failing himself and those he loves. This is the perfect role for Thompson. Michael Hammond shows his audience every minutia of what makes his evil, conniving Iago tick. Hammond is not shy in his in-your-face performance, which is exactly what is called for in this role.

“All’s Well That Ends Well” might be called a musical, or at least that is the case with this version. Called “the house band,” nine actors accompany singer/interlocutor Nigel Gore regularly liven up the stage with original rock music composed by Shakes & Co.’s own Bill Barclay. The songs link the scenes together in this feminist and perhaps atypical Bard play.

Charles Morey’s “The Ladies Man” (based on the work of Geydeau) treats the audience to non-stop comedy in the shape of traditional French farce. In the course of the show, a total of 14 doors and entries permit the cast comings and goings at such rapid speed nearly faster than the eye can see. One can only imagine the bumping and bruising that occurs backstage. The extremely talented ensemble (many from last year’s successful “Rough Crossing”) must be having the time of their lives, which is certainly contagious to the audience.

Actually, there’s more at Shakes & Co., and it’s the free stuff; i.e. the very funny premiere of “The Mad Pirate and the Mermaid,” a terrific lecture series, pre-show mini-plays, and more.

A Man for All Seasons by Shera Cohen
Berkshire Theatre, Stockbridge

It’s been several seasons since Eric Hill was last on stage. The opportunity to observe Hill’s portrayal as Sir Thomas More in “A Man for All Seasons” is one important reason to catch this play before it closes. Another is to watch the other actors, as this is a collection of thespian work at its best.

"Man” is based on the true story of More, of which there is much history. Set in the era of Henry VIII, is the battle of church and state over the divorce of the king’s first wife, Catherine. Equally, it is the conflict of conscience and convenience. The plot is far from black and white or right vs. wrong. The play could, indeed, be titled “A Man for all Days” or “Years” or “Centuries.” Beliefs and convictions of 1530 may as well be the same, with the same vehemence in 2008.

Richard Corley directs his cast in a series of chronological segments in the life of More, his family, and constituents. The thread linking each part is The Common Man, portrayed exceptionally well in multiple roles by Walter Hudson. David Chandler’s Cromwell plays sinister to perfection, Gareth Saxe’s Henry combines humor with determination in his king, and Diane Prusha evenly balances love and strength for and against her stubborn husband as More’s wife.

Hill is quite understated, except for a few short moments, as More. As a man of the cloth and of government, More’s professions pulled him in two directions, resulting in deadly consequences. Through Hill, we see the struggle of a man who willingly sheds both exterior garments to live solely by his own judgment.

The trappings of staging and costuming create 16th century England. Yet, actors do not feign British accents, and much of the playwright’s dialogue seems quite 20th century. Throughout, the play asks the question, “What is a man without principles and values?” Today’s audience members leave asking the same question of themselves.

Tell Everybody  by Steve Capra
Thomas Middleton’s The Revenger’s Tragedy was first performed in 1606. Talk about family drama! The Duchess has three sons by a previous marriage, and the Duke has one, not counting the bastard (who takes up with his stepmother). It drips with intrigue and duplicity. It’s set, naturally, in Italy.

London’s National Theatre produced it this month with extraordinary success. The designs (by Ti Green and Melly Still) are all and marvelous, with a stark throne room for the Duke and glorious Renaissance murals for the court. The revolving stage has crannies of mystery reflecting the intricacies of the script. The costumes are modern and unobtrusive, making their point without attracting attention.

Our hero, Vindice, is played by Rory Kinnear, looking terrific under his red T-shirt and white sport jacket. When we meet him, he’s a Raskolnikov in his bare room, books scattered on the floor, his hair ragged. He morphs into a macho with a buzz cut, and finally dons a great fright wig in his final disguise. Kinnear is terrific, with a clear emotional life expressed through a fluid physicality. He flails his arms or stands in an introverted lump, as the need arises.

There’s a lot of physical action on this stage. We open with tumblers and dancers – they show up again from time to time – and occasionally there are nameless characters doing the most obscene things as the stage revolves. In the final masque, Still holds back, giving us the masked dancers (they’re really the young Dukelets) on a spare set, because she can’t top the spectacle she’s already given us. Wise choice – but executed without insight, and the macabre dance fails.

This terrific production has crisp asides, an elegant counter tenor, and, when the occasion demands, a disco beat. Even the face, projected on the walls of the set, that morphs into a demon in the way of computer graphics, is integrated into the design.

The script revels in the black Jacobean humor: Vindice confesses a series of deceits to the Duke before killing him and adds “Tell nobody” before he stabs him. And Still’s concern with macabre detail matches the playwright’s – there’s dummy that’s passed off as a woman (Vindice panders for the duke), and in a post-murder frenzy it comes to life.

The actresses of this cast don’t come off well – Vindice’s mother and sister are oddly colorless. And Still hasn’t expressed the cynical depth of the script, its unspeakable emotions. Determined not to dwell on a moment, he never savors the luscious evil. The trick is, though, that she’s managed to drive this dinosaur (mixed metaphor there) by us so deftly. Tell everybody that great drama is timeless and that a form intensely linked to the 17th century can speak to us as well.

Rolling their “R’s” by Steve Capra
Igor Stravinsky wrote his opera The Rake’s Progress in 1951. He was inspired by a set of paintings of the same name published by the English artist William Hogarth in 1735 that depicted the moral dissolution of a young man seduced by material goods. The plot loosely follows Hogarth’s: Tom Rakewell inherits money, dumps his girlfriend and, led by Nick Shadow (the devil himself!) he plays around in the big city. Then – after a bunch of adventures – he’s committed to an asylum. A timeless theme if there ever was one.

I am not at home with this material from Igor’s middle period. The effusive orchestrations of Right of Spring and Firebird were past for the composer by the time he wrote Progress. But Stravinsky is like Shakespeare; as the evening progresses, we’re educated to the idiom. The libretto is by WH Auden and Chester Kallman, and it’s uninspiring.

The Royal Opera in London has just staged the piece directed by the Canadian Robert Lepage. The production premiered in Brussels in 2007 and has travelling around (Not unlike its jeune premier). The production is dominated by concept as expressed in the grand set designs by Carl Fillion. The opera’s been set in the prototypical American Mid-west and decadent California. The libretto retains its allusions to London, and it’s really cool to separate lyrics and design this way.

The first set is a flatland with oil rig - the clouds move, with a vanishing point right of center, as the overcast grows. Then, in the first stage in our rake’s corruption, he makes a western movie (and here the designer is less successful), with Shadow floating around behind a sort-of cardboard representation of a classic Hollywood camera. In another scene, a wisp of grey balloon center stage inflates to become a trailer, and this is just cheap.

We spend a lot of time at a pool on the coast. There’s a terrific sunset here over a rippling ocean, and when a crowd of reporters appears, they’re in heartless black-and-white. “Ruin – disaster – shame” they croak.

In the opera’s best scene, Shadow leads our man to the entrance to hell – it’s wonderfully macabre with pictures of playing cards and of a yellow tub ducky, all sadistically tasteless, “Abandon all hope, you who enter here” in pictures. And when Shadow says “Behold your waiting grave”, it’s just luscious. Anyway, Tom doesn’t go to hell – he goes to the asylum instead, where everything is worse - pale, colorless.

And so we’re served the two elements – libretto and design – linked by theme, not logic. The setting deepens the opera by adding dissonance. The problem is that the impressive design is so derivative that it lacks mystery. We know just where each idea has come from. There are specific allusions to classic movies and stage musicals – Oklahoma, Sunset Boulevard, et al.

Charles Castronovo is terrific as Rakewell, physically expressive, with clear diction. John Relyea, as Shadow, is sufficiently oily; in fact, he appears out of the oil well, and he looks like oil itself. As Anne Truelove, the dumped prairieland girlfriend, Sally Matthews modifies her vowels so extremely on the high notes that we can’t understand what she’s saying. I was grateful for the text next to the stage. In fact, the diction throughout is odd – sometimes they roll their “R’s”.

So Lepage’s stage has been enlarged without being enriched. Fillion’s elegant stage pictures are lifeless and, with no drama in the story or depth in the characters, the production is more impressive than memorable.

Broke-ology @ Williamstown Theatre Festival, Williamstown (MA) by Shera Cohen
It’s not often that a play’s world premiere takes place in our region. It’s also not often that a playwright’s first piece of work is staged by such a well-known and respected venue as Williamstown Theatre Festival. Those two factors do not necessarily make for success. Yet, in the case of “Broke-ology,” the audience’s applause and standing ovation (including this reviewer) at the play’s end would lead many to believe that this play has a long life on the stage.

It’s a strange title, for sure. One character coined it and explains it as a college degree in “being broke (poor),” and this man would receive an A+. His younger brother, however, recently graduated from “real” college with a double major. The differences and conflict between these young men are immediately set. While in a happy marriage, their parents often see life from opposite points of view.

The setting is a poverty-stricken neighborhood, Kansas. But it could be Anywhere, USA. The times are 1982 and 2007. The family is African-American. Author Nathan Louis Jackson and Director Thomas Kail take these four characters and immediately make them real people. There are no good guys and bad guys; they are each human, opinionated, likable, and even lovable. The bottom line for the audience is that we care.

Every actor is exceptional, and while it is cliché, they seem born to portray their roles. Francois Battiste (the older brother) was outstanding. An actor with numerous Broadway and regional theatre credits, Battiste has also appeared in films. Like the long life of this play, here is a young actor to watch as he climbs the latter to his own success.

Some might think of the Nikos Stage at Williamstown as the smaller second cousin with plays that are less important or skillfully produced as those on the Mainstage. That would not be true. This is a wonderful venue, particularly for experimentation with new works before a live audience. Except for one detail at the play’s end (which will not be revealed) the story, dialogue, and execution were perfect. Take a chance on future Nikos productions

Almost, Maine @ Chester Theatre Company by Donna Bailey-Thompson
"Almost, Maine" is a delight, a smorgasbord of vignettes with beginnings, middles, and endings that make sense. Some are poignant, or frothy, or silly, even a tad shocking – especially the latter is to the characters played by two actors, Jim Beaudin and Paden Fallis, who are appropriately direct, awkward and flabbergasted.

A director less skilled and disciplined than Chuck Hudson might have encouraged excessive punching of some lines, even supported an actor’s inclination to go over the top. Not Mr. Hudson. Instead both he and the cast of four (who divvy up portraying 19 characters) respect the creative machinations of the playwright’s mind. That John Cariani’s "Almost, Maine," is included in "New Playwrights: Best Plays of 2006" by Smith and Kraus seems a logical choice.

This is an all A-Team production. The ending of one mini play and the beginning of the next are effected a few beats shy of blackout pace. As soon as the lights come up, the actors have nano seconds to establish who they are. Each actor assumes a new identity: Manon Halliburton (six), Tracey Liz Miller and Fallis, (four each), and Beaudin (five).

Halliburton and Beaudin may be sitting self-consciously on a bench. Miller may be waiting for a display of the Northern Lights or arriving at the door of a long-ago suitor. Fallis and Beaudin may be comparing notes on their individual preferences when it comes to spending an evening. Innocuous stuff? Not the stuff of drama? Wrong. And, wrong again.

It is possible to mount a play without sound and lighting designs but when the wind howls hard enough to overcome thoughts of a heat wave baking Chester’s outdoors and a shimmering aurora borealis fills one’s senses, the talents of Sound Designer Tom Shread and Resident Lighting Designer Lara Dubin enhance the many pleasures of "various locales in the small, remote town of Almost, Maine."

Rabbit Hole @ New Century Theatre, Northampton by Donna Bailey-Thompson
Clues to the type of play that will be performed are evident from Emily Dunn’s set design. A front door opens into an open layout of a sprawling family room that links with a kitchen table that fronts a roomy kitchen area. The overall effect is antiseptic; the furnishings could be metal and glass. There is nothing to suggest warmth. Even a child’s bedroom visible on an upper level is hospital-neat, in spite of stuffed animals and a poster. In the opening scene, Becca (Cate Damon) sits at the table folding a small child’s clothes. Her younger sister Izzy (Sandra Blaney) chatters, disclosing information, piecemeal, about herself which culminates with the announcement that she’s pregnant. Does that shock Becca? Only somewhat. Becca is mired in grief for the death of her son several months before, accidentally killed when he chased his dog into the street.

Keep tissues handy.

Oh, there is topical humor but not much. Becca and her husband, Howie (Keith Langsdale) are coping with a loss too profound for them to bear.They can’t derive comfort from one another. They’re living by rote. There is no clue to how they were before the accident. But now, they are barely functional. Izzy tries to divert with inanities, fulfilling a role textbooks classify as the "mascot" Becca’s mother, Nat (Ellen Barry) rattles on. Attempts at normalcy fail. One person who has addressed his grief and guilt is the high school boy, driving with a new license, who while trying to avert hitting the dog instead hit the child. As Jason, Daniel Plimpton "reads" the letter he has written to the parents, a recitation sensitively rendered that exudes authenticity.

Playwright David Lindsay-Abaire’s "Rabbit Hole" won a Pulitzer Prize for the best drama of 2007. This production is well-executed; the performances are strong with one exception: too often dialog is missed because voices are lowered, particularly when Becca speaks of a rabbit hole.

Berkshire Choral Festival: Saturdays in July/August by Shera CohenThe experience of Berkshire Choral Festival was three-fold for this reviewer, having the privilege of attending three concerts in a matter of eight days.

For 27 years, thousands of choristers have gathered weekly to BCF for the love of singing and the camaraderie of those like themselves. An average concert includes 180 vocalists, who travel from nearly every U.S. state, the Americas, Europe, and Asian countries. One aspect that does not change is the “back-up” musicians – the Springfield Symphony Orchestra.

Each Saturday night features different conductors and selections. Oftentimes, soloists are featured. Be assured that the pieces are all big; nothing but the most challenging.

A musicologist speaks in a free talk prior to each concert, offering better insight into the background of the pieces and composers.

Titled “I Hear America Singing,” under the direction of Craig Jessop, the highlight was “Frostiana.” This was a flowing compilation of seven Robert Frost poems including “The Road Not Taken” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Coupling Frost with music by Randall Thompson made for a wonder to the audience’s ears.

That same week, a select group of BCF members performed a free concert at the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge. Lead by an assistant conductor, the 20 or so singers crooned several old chestnuts, including big band tunes. Theirs was a nice teaser concert for the upcoming Saturday’s program.

There could not have been a better pair of choral works as Orff’s “Carmina Burana” was teamed with Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony (finale).” Tom Hall was the guest conductor. From the first loud and harsh bang of the instruments and voices to the soft and soothing movements, the lush and humorous songs of baritone Alexander Tall to the superior soprano notes of Penelope Shumate, “Carmina” was a standout piece. Its reputation precedes it as one of the most illustrious choral/symphonic works of the 20th century. To tackle the difficulty in the ebb and flow, ups and downs of the exceptionally long work, was no small task. This performance was without a doubt one of the most memorable music experiences for any in the audience. The well-deserved standing ovation lasted at least five minutes.

Rounding Third by Shera Cohen
Majestic Theater, West Springfield (MA) through August 2, 2008

It’s no surprise that the subject matter of a play titled “Rounding Third” is baseball. This all-American sport is not, however, a favorite pastime of many theatre-goers, and vice versa. The Majestic cast and crew had to do a lot of skilled work to win over this reviewer. Interestingly, one of the running themes throughout the play is that never the twain (jocks and thespians) shall meet.

Readers…not to worry. Knowledge of home plate, dugouts, and shortstops is not necessary to thoroughly enjoy “Rounding Third.” The only requirement for audience members to laugh at, sympathize with, and appreciate the play is the huge achievement of having survived childhood. There’s no doubt that everyone left the theatre having seen a “home run.”

The play takes place today in Any Town, USA. The set is simple – a backdrop fence of a baseball field and benches. Steve Henderson stars as an experienced little league coach and John Hart is the new guy assistant coach. While there are no other actors onstage, these two men, under the direction of Danny Eaton, bring to life a team of 12-year-olds, none of whom are ever seen. These little leaguers – Frankie, Eric, Timmy, et al – fill the stage. Now, that’s an accomplishment!

The essence of the story is to win at all costs even if it means tossing away one’s integrity vs. enjoying the journey while trying and hoping to succeed. Through dialogue, body language, and impeccable timing, the actors seamlessly react of each other. Occasionally, the banter is a little too fast, leaving some humor unheard or ignored.

Henderson and Hart create three-dimensional real life roles which are far from stagnant. Henderson is always a pro on the Majestic stage. It was a pleasure to see Hart return. When he was younger, Hart was just fine in small roles. He’s paid his proverbial dues in New York City and earned his Equity card. His talent continues to grow. His soliloquy in a final scene is so poignant that it undoubtedly touches anyone who has a heart.

Take a ride around the rotary to the Majestic to see “Rounding Third.” It’s “way cooler” than seeing a real ballgame, and it’s air conditioned.

Metro Stage Company’s Ruthless a Riot by Robin Chamberlain
In a continuing effort to bring Boston newer, edgier, more thought-provoking and less traditional musical material, Metro Stage Company’s newest offering, Ruthless! The Musical, is a fabulous flamboyant trip through every “bad girl in showbiz” movie and metaphor. Think “The Bad Seed” meets “All About Eve” meets Mama Rose and you’ve got Ruthless. The biting, bitchy, and hysterical script and score are loaded with references and double-entendres that will leave musical and B-Movie buffs rolling in the aisles, but may leave those without those interests feeling like they missed something. Still, there are enough other non-“insider” comic moments to satisfy everyone. Pay close, I mean close attention to every word- this script has more plot twists, turns, and about-faces than a Telemundo soap opera.

Director Rob Case does an amazing job with the small cast who winningly portray the deliberately stereotyped roles-Amazonian talent agent, talented tyke, suburban housewife deluxe, and more. Kudos to the entire cast: Tracy Nygard, deliciously over-the-top in dual roles as Judy Denmark-Stepford wife supreme, and Ginger DelMarco, Broadway’s latest musical sensation, plays both with equally fabulous and amusing results. Hannah Forsley is amazing as little Tina Denmark, the starlet wanna-be who is willing to do anything….anything to get (imagine a sinister chord playing as you hear the phrase)…the lead. She taps, sings, and mugs her way through the night as the perfect disingenuous ingénue. Christopher J. Hagberg winningly portrays Sylvia St. Croix, overbearing talent manager with the most…the most hair, the most jewelry, the most amazing drag wardrobe (compliments of Mr. Hagberg’s costumer Mark Frederics-Cabrera)…..you get it. You stop holding your breath hoping he won’t fall in 6-inch heels after about first 30 seconds after his/her entrance, because he does a better job of it than most women. Mary O’Donnell plays Mother/critic Lita Encore and her rendition of “I Hate Musicals” is a show-stopper. The cast is rounded out by Jaime Steinbach in comic turns as Miss Thorne, frustrated third-grade teacher and Miss Block, a reporter from Modern Thespian and Katherine Reynolds as Tina’s third grade classmate and school-play rival Louis Lerman, and Ginger DeMarco’s aspiring assistant, the aptly-named Eve.

Congrats are also in order to all of the theatrical elements that helped bring the production to life – Kimmerie H.O. Jones’ era-evocative costumes, Abigail Cordell’s music direction and orchestra, John MacKenzie’s lighting, including simple but effective Ed-Wood-esque lighting moments, Annita-Marie Brockney’s choreography and a straightforward set that ably managed to work as two distinct venues.

Each Metro production increasingly proves that there is room for this little company and its now almost stock company of talented regulars in the Boston theater scene. Pay attention.

Ancients Songs of South Africa by Steve Capra
The Ngqoko Cultural Group, NYC

The Ngqoko Cultural Group appeared recently at the Skirball Center in New York in their first American tour, presenting Ancients Songs of South Africa. The group preserves indigenous South African musical traditions, in particular, the traditions of the Xhosa culture of the Eastern Cape. While the larger company has 15 members, this touring group consists of six women and one man, the director, Tsolwana B. Mpayipheli. 

They entered through the audience, from the back of auditorium. The opening denied a split between performer and audience; these singers are us. The women wore glorious blue and yellow dresses (blue and white on one woman) and head scarves, with Mpayipheli in a white caftan.  During some songs, the singers were accompanied by traditional instruments:

The singing was extraordinary, wonderful - euphoric and soothing. Even the ballads sounded like hypnotic chants. We learned that a chorus is greater than the sum of its voices – it has a collective life of its own. Sometimes the voices began timidly and intensified. Sometimes they faded out at the end of a song, and sometimes they just stop, but they never punctuated the ending like most European music.

Mpayipheli told us that this singing is not music because it has no written notes and no beats. I disagree. Music doesn’t have to be written down, and there are European traditions without beat, such as Gregorian chant. These African songs are music of the first degree. The singers hummed, murmured, whistled and clapped their hands, sometimes shaking their hands and shoulders, sometimes stamping their feet in polyrhythmic ecstasy. The music varied from simple unison to polyrhythmic complexity. When they sang with an instrument – or instruments – accompanying, the vocals sometimes took to the background, giving an unusual depth to the sound, a sense of aural spaciousness.

The Ngqoko Cultural Group feature overtone singing, a traditional manner of vocalizing also known as throat singing. It sounded less like the throat singing of Asia had I expected. It shared the harsh, brittle quality of the Buddhist monks’ voices, but it was deeper. Mpayipheli told us that they mix it with more familiar vocals “in order to make it pretty”. And here’s the lesson: there’s more to music than prettiness. A further clue to understanding may lie in one of Mpayipheli’s comments: “We put our complaints to music,” he told us.

Indeed, the director’s notes were helpful throughout the performance, given in a beautiful and lyrical, if not always intelligible, accent. African English is itself music. He would sometimes tell us the point of the lyrics. The song with the harmonica, for example, is about the dancing of a disabled woman. But I wanted more translation of the lyrics – is there a refrain? Indeed, are there verses? There was a bit if dancing during the course of the evening, and I would have liked to see more of that as well.

We’re enormously grateful to The World Music Institute, which presented this great concert. At a mere 75 minutes, it was intensely enjoyable, satisfying, educative. We applaud The Ngqoko Cultural Group for keeping this tradition alive. We want more of it – more of all the magnificent musical traditions that are threatened by cultural globalization.

Happy Days - A New Musical  by Shera Cohen
Goodspeed Opera House, East Haddam, CT through June 29, 2008

Expect the expected at Goodspeed Opera House for their run of “Happy Days – A New Musical.” For the millions of baby boomers and their parents who loved the TV series, this is a step back in time to fun of the fifties, rock ‘n roll, perfect families, and poodle skirts.

The musical’s title is a bit of a misnomer. Yes, the production is “new.” But there is nothing “new” about “Happy Days.” That’s quite alright. There’s Richie and his buddies, Mr. & Mrs. C, Joanie and Chachi, Arnold’s hangout, and dialogue that’s “really cool.” While not a series regular, Pinky – the hot chick in pink – plays a major role in the musical. Of course, there’s Fonzie. Ronny Howard was credited as the show’s star, but it was Henry Winkler who stole the show. Well, there’s no pretense this time. This play belongs to The Fonz.

Joey Sorge and Sandra DeNise (Fonz and Pinky) create characters, both rough on the outside and fragile on the inside, who are perfect together as they sing to or about each other. Sorge’s “Heartbreak” and DeNise’s “Message in the Music” offer examples of the singing and acting skills of the duo.

There is next to no story. Audience members could have easily turned on a “Happy Days” rerun on “Nick at Nite.” Important is the energetic, athletic, youthful cast of what seem like a dozen “American Idol” top winners, on a colorful and brightly lit set. Put together, these elements make for wholesome entertainment.

Many actors take double and triple roles. While not on the “star” list, Matt Merchant is particularly noticeable as Elvis and later as a tough guy wrestler. Merchant creates caricatures that don’t need to sing very well, but his voice is one of the best onstage.

It is obvious that the actors were cast to look like those on TV. At times, the musical even makes fun and inside jokes about the series. It’s doubtful that the balcony of school kids “got” all of the humor. What they got was a look at times when the worst problem of the day was which plunger to purchase or picking a favorite song on the jukebox.

The Pirates of Penzance by John Small
New World Chorale, Milford, MA
 
When I was a little lad, my father would frequently play G&S soundtrack albums on our family's stereo (the quaint term for such albums was "records", and they were made of an ancient substance called "vinyl"). I also have a dim memory of being taken by my father to a production of "The Pirates of Penzance", the only part of which I still remember is the "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha" section of "When you had left our pirate fold". 
 
A seed must have been planted, for not only have I recently played the first 2 G&S roles of my life (Major-General Stanley in "The Pirates of Penzance" in 2007 & Sir Joseph Porter in "H.M.S. Pinafore" in 2008), I have also taken to attending Gilbert and Sullivan productions at the Sudbury Savoyards, the Savoyard Light Opera Company, and the M.I.T. Gilbert & Sullivan Players - and I've been loving every minute of it!
 
In March of 2008, I attended the New World Chorale's production of "The Pirates of Penzance" in Milford, Massachusetts.  What struck me first, most, and overall, was the passion and affection that the vocalists and orchestra members obviously have for Gilbert and Sullivan's timeless, yet still politically and socially timely, material.
 
The quality of the voices of both the principals and the chorus members was impeccable and ideally suited to Gilbert and Sullivan's unique style - vigorous and strong, with lightness, clarity, and crystalline enunciation.
 
Holly Krafka is to be congratulated for having assembled such a talented and playfully enthusiastic group of vocalists and instrumentalists. Michael Prichard's Pirate King was a swaggering silver fox with a thundering voice and commanding stage presence. His sidekick Samuel, played by Jim Kauffman, was a self-confident and ever-loyal second-in-command. Their piratical maid-of-all-work, Ruth, played by Cindy Jones, delighted the audience with her vigorously-voiced confession of hearing impairment in "When Frederic was a little lad".  Brad Amidon's Frederic was the perfect blend of innocence, romance, and Victorian valor.  Rebecca Hains' Mabel was delightful and sweet and vocally stunning - her performance of "Poor wandering one" was breathtaking in its range, power, and beauty.  Mabel's sisters Edith (Alison Moll), Kate (Karen Wilcox), and Isabel (Amy Harris), delivered a hilarious performance of "What ought we to do" and "How beautifully blue the sky", and gracefully comforted their woebegone father with a lovely performance of "Oh, dry the glist'ning tear".  Rick Grenier's Major-General Stanley displayed a delightfully bemused and jovial self-importance - and he rose to the challenge of Gilbert and Sullivan's most famous patter song, "I am the very model of a modern Major-General", delivering it with clarity and enthusiasm.  Art LaMan III was brilliant as the boldly timid Sergeant of Police, leading his men with a vocal self-confidence which, of course, never completely obscured their collective reluctance.  Major-General Stanley's daughters (Sarah Brannen, Colleen Campbell, Nina Eppes, Debbie Slade Pierce, Susan Rubin, and Julie Steinhilber) were paragons of Victorian propriety, and the Pirates & Policemen (Dan Borges, William Clerx, Tyler Hains, Dennis Pereira, Jeff Pierce, Mac Sloan, Chris Loschen, Larry Millner, and Howard Wilcox) provided all of the sherry-fueled & nightstick-wielding testosterone needed to keep the laughs coming.
 
Bravo, New World Chorale!  I look forward to your next Gilbert & Sullivan production.

Pure Joy of Movement by Beverly Creasey (5/4/08)
Archeologists have discovered cave paintings of animals, warriors and dancers dating back 3000 years. Even before the written word, primitive choreographers were notating dances with pictures. According to these cave drawings, primitive man hunted, fished, fought ...and danced! So who were these figures whose movements were deemed so important that they were depicted on stone? Were they royalty? Priests? Elders?

After a performance by Prometheus Dance's ELDERS ENSEMBLE, you'll be thinking they were definitely tribal elders. Diane Arvanites-Noya and Tommy Neblett choreograph gorgeous, intricate pieces for their senior company (ages .55 to 85) which the dancers execute in elegant symmetry. Some of the work is highly theatrical, with dramatic components which the performers deliver like seasoned actors. What sets these dancers apart from their younger counterparts is the joy they radiate and the unabashed freedom of movement they exude as they dance. They're having a grand time out there on stage.

I Having seen all but one of the pieces before (An exquisite new work which celebrates the sacred premiered this weekend) I realized that the familiar works had changed slightly and seemed even more poignant. The dancers have grown into their roles so that the work is richer and fuller now. Audiences are struck by the exuberance and playfulness of the performances. ALL DRESSED UP (from 2007) is a madcap romp, a Felliniesque voyage of dreams and discovery, presided over by ringmaster Dorothy Elizabeth Tucker.

SHADOW PROPHECY (from 2006) sets Marcie Miller centerstage, surrounded and buffeted by the Fates. It's a harrowing lamentation which ends in triumph, when Miller comes to terms with, and embraces her destiny. Arvanites & Noya's remarkable new piece embraces the SACRED in all its forms: nature, spirit and worship. The dancers sway to ancient chants and Latin litanies and are lifted up as if in an embrace of peace. The transcendent images follow the music, changing from Eastern to Western, from Hindu prayer gesture to a Pieta tableau. Joan Green delivers a paean to nature at the end of the piece and the dancers whisper their own prayers as they exit the stage.

Their last dance has become their signature: It's a sassy, hip little number (from 2005) which says it all. The dancers sport saucy sundresses and shades, ready to catch some rays in their aluminum lawn chairs but they don't lounge for long. Those chairs are airborne, the music by Ray Charles and Nat King Cole beckons them to come out and play ...and they do, kicking their legs over their heads and amusing us with their stories. Leave it to Betty Milhendler to end hers with "THERE'S A DANCE IN THE OL' DAME YET!"

In Barbara Ehrenreich's new cultural history of dance, she speculates that no less than the decline of Western civilization began with the church's suppression of Medieval Festivals with their ecstatic ritual. dancing. You might say that The Elders Ensemble is saving the world, one dance at a time.

The Full Monty by Shera Cohen (4/24/08)
Majestic Theater, West Springfield thru 5/25.

Colloquial definitions of “the full monty” mean: the whole lot, entire pot, full amount, and the more commonly understood “full striptease routine.” The Majestic’s interpretation of the musical “The Full Monty” gives many meanings to the word “full.”

“Monty” tops off what has been a creative and exceptional season at the Majestic. From a two-character play, to Shakespeare, to a hysterically funny show on ice-fishing, to the large-cast and full-fledged musical of “Monty,” this company continues to prove that home-produced theatre is among the best. It’s costly and a risk, yet mounting plays from scratch instills a pride in cast and crew, not to mention audiences.

This musical, the story of down and out unemployed factory workers, is far from a “downer.” Yes, the characters are broke, with family problems, and depressed. Yet at the same time, they are full of hope, dreams, and the potential for self-esteem. Their means to the latter are unorthodox in the reluctant plan to become Chippendale-wannabes.

Randy Ronco (leader of the troupe) has energy, relates to his stage-son in poignant scenes, and represents a flawed man who doesn’t give up. Robert Clark (big-lug buddy Dave) portrays a pussycat with a heart. Darron Cardosa (mama’s boy) is the best of the singers. Also in this wonderful ensemble are Tom Knightlee, Van Farrier, and Dann Black. They are a perfect motley team, especially in their song and dance (creatively choreographed by David Wallace) piece “Michael Jordan’s Ball.”

While it’s the guys who “are” the play, Paula Cortis and Lea Oppedisano (wives) develop background of whom these men really are. Their juxtaposed scenes, in song and physical placement on the stage, in “You Rule My World” are highlights of the show.

Director Danny Eaton has a lot to do connecting the many segments to the next, as he works with Set Designer Amy Davis (creating a warehouse simply with moving panels) and Band Leader Mitch Chakour keeping up the pace.

“Monty” is a play with lyrics that move the story along, no hard-to-understand British accents (remember the movie version), and proof that there is no difference in talent between Equity and non-Equity actors.

The Smothers Brothers & Springfield Symphony Orchestra by Shera Cohen (4/14/08)
Symphony Hall, Springfield
www.inthespotlightinc.org

Tommy is age 70 and Dickie is age 68. Yet, the Smothers Brothers performance might as well have taken place in the 1960s. The “boys” never skipped a beat in impeccable timing, topical humor, irreverence, and their well-known stage personas. By the way, each aged very well.

Tommy’s trademark stupidity and naiveté bounced off brother Dickie’s exasperation and seriousness just as they had done throughout the past 50 years. Yes, a half-century! The audience got exactly what they expected in style, comedy, and music. Which was more perfect – the material or the delivery? It’s a toss up. Each went hand-in-hand to create a terrific show.

There was simply too much to remember for this critic to write, because the performance was extremely fast-paced and funny. Among the highlights were the following: the trilogy of “dog songs” coupled with a lame dog joke; the feigned gratefulness to perform in Springfield; and Tommy’s avocation as a trained pilot. As his brother commented, “Just because you accumulated thousands of skymiles, it doesn’t make you an airline pilot.”

Sometimes, it’s forgotten that the brothers are also very skilled musicians. With Tommy on guitar and Dickie on bass, their music and voices (Dickie, the better singer) make for an important part of the act – that is until Tommy always interrupts. The duo never managed through an entire song, but that’s what the routine is all about.

When music segued into comedy, that was the best of the routines; i.e. a tender Spanish song reverted to German, then yodeling (Tommy’s the culprit, of course). Another “normal” melody turned its notes to “Dueling Guitars,” only this time guitar vs. piano.

Special appearance by The Yo Yo Man (Tommy) and Voice of Yo (Dickie) had both back and forth on stage performing yo yo tricks and extemporaneous commentary. Who would think that a yo yo could be that much fun to watch?

A video of the brothers’ lives capped off the evening. The longest section showed excerpts from “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour,” including anti-Vietnam scripts, commentary by Pat Paulson, and being axed in the prime of the series. Thank goodness, the boys never really went away.

The Ten Tenors by Shera Cohen (3/15/08)
Colonial Theatre, Pittsfield
www.inthespotlightinc.org

Two math questions. What is Il Divo x 3.33? Hummm? Let’s make it easier? What are The Three Tenors x 2.5? Answer -- The Ten Tenors, or affectionally dubbed TTT. These Aussies combine camaraderie, energy, and animated choreography of a football team with debonair charm, wit, and professionalism of Wall Street bankers. They are personable, relaxed, and as one of the members referred to all, “incredibly good looking.” They are the boys next door, if the boys had voices like Pavarotis in the making.

Starting as impromptu street singers, the classmates launched their career performing in every town and hamlet in their homeland, quickly cut a CD, and then ventured to Europe. Except for one PBS performance, few in this country have had the opportunity to hear TTT. Now on their first North American tour, these boys are fast becoming known and applauded, and not just for their pretty faces. They can sing!

As a unit, TTT is at its best – whether singing as one voice or as a group sporadically highlighting individuals within sections of songs. It is clearly evident that each vocalist has his unique singing style, range, and genre expertise. They also can sing anything – and do!

There are folk, pop, rock, Australian pieces, disco, and a lot of opera. One of the men told the audience that they would perform, “opera without the boring bits.” The repertoire shifts from Pucci to Queen, “Waltzing Matilda” to Dean Martin’s “Volare,” the Tarantella to Simon & Garfunkel, and Verdi to the Bee Gees. Envision 10 businessmen walking out of an office, instantly singing “Saturday Night Fever” as a chorus line performing disco moves.

While the singers promised no encores, they lied. There were three, with standing ovations after each. The last was perhaps the best tenor aria ever written – “Nessun dorma” from “Turandot.” What an evening!

The wonderful experience of this concert starts before spotlights go up and a note is sung. It begins upon entering the newly renovated 100-year-old Colonial Theatre. Millions have obviously been spent in keeping the original historic luster. The venue was breath-taking, and every dime was well-spent. Pittsfield’s residents should feel proud of their good work in turning their arts around 180 degrees. Pittsfield is very much a destination point.

Buddha: In His Own Words - The Life of the Buddha assembled from the original texts
written and performed by Evan Brenner, off-off-Broadway
by Steve Capra (3/12/08)

Siddartha Gautama, a prince of the warrior class, now known as The Buddha, lived 2500 years ago. His writings have been preserved in fifty volumes. Evan Brenner (a Buddhist priest) has selected the material about the Buddha’s own life and distilled it into a ninety-minute monologue: Buddha: In His Own Words. There are some other characters - Ananda the servant, the charioteer, the devil himself – but for the overwhelmig bulk of the piece, it’s the Buddha himself who’s speaking.

The text is carefully structured.  The familiar story of the Prince abandoning the life of pleasure forms the first act, and the climax is, of course, the great Enlightenment under the Bodhi tree. The second act is often weak in this sort of script, but here it’s strong, well conceived, focusing on the Buddha’s ministry. In fact, the story is at its best here, thrust by the drive of the spread of the teaching and the joy of new converts: “And then there were six… And then there were sixty-one… And then there were thousands…” Its fantastic closing passage concerns the revenge of the Slave Prince, a story that will probably be new to many.

What’s more, the writing is elegant. It uses poetic repitition. We hear phrases repeated like “the four great continents with their surrounding islands numbering two thousand”. We hear sentences like “Wide open were the doors to Nirvana” and “There is this teaching discovered by me.” Brenner’s imbedded the rhetorical devices in the script so that they’re not intrusive.

Like any miracle play, this script’s purpose is to teach, and we indeed hear the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism are repeated a few times. Brenner’s expression of them is particularly accessible, as we’re reminded to “let go of the origin of suffering, which is selfish craving.”

Brenner has commanding speech and has a refined sense of gesture. He could be a first-rate storyteller. But this is a monologue in the first person, and it cries for an actor’s technique, which Brenner lacks. There’s no evidence of the choices actors make. To whom is the Buddha speaking? His best pupil? His slowest pupil? When Brenner says “I fight on”, he shakes his fist, and the line cries for subtext.

Indeed, the production apparently has no director. The concept is right: Brenner stands barefoot in colorless clothes, with no set but a chair. But for some reason, he never takes the lotus position, only a sort of half-lotus. There are self-contained stories in the script, but they’re not defined in the staging. Worst, his trim, nice-boy haircut is a glaring anomaly on the stage.

But be that as it may. Buddha: In His Own Words is a religious and stage event, and we’re happy to have it. I saw it in previews. It “opens” on an unspecified date “a few months away”, on West 25^th Street in New York. See www.thebuddhaplay.com. It was born in Cambridge about 18 months ago.

Taking it to the Streets by Steve Capra (12/6/07)
Each actor in The Thalia Theatre’s production of Frank Wedekind’s Lulu (from Hamburg, at The Brooklyn Academy of Music, in German) casts multiple shadows on a lavender screen upstage. There’s no set – not a stick – except for that screen, and there’s a single prop, a handgun. Lulu wears a series of minidresses, and the scenes are connected with rock music, but this production wants to be without period, larger than life, epic.

Director Michael Thalheimer has chosen this bold approach (he’s known for it) in spite of the counterindications in the script. Lulu is Everyman’s desire, but she’s protean, not an absolute. Each man has his own name for her (‘Eve’ or ‘Mignon’ or something). “I like them incomplete,” one lover says of her.

Thalheimer has based his lean, abbreviated adaptation on Pandora’s Box: A Monster-Tragedy, a five-act drama (1892 or so), referred to as Lulu. Wedekind later rewrote the play as two dramas, Earth Spirit and Pandora’s Box, which had a highly censored history. (In 1928 German director G.W. Pabst adapted them into a brilliant silent film.) The original script was discovered only after FW’s death.

Lulu is one of the great bravura roles. A slut of the first magnitude, she runs through a series of husbands and other men, causing some of them to exit this life, all the while resisting a woman’s advances. Finally, after convoluted plot twists (again an obstacle to grandeur), she has to take to the streets in London, and she meets her demise at the hands of a character based on Jack the Ripper.

In this production, Lulu is a monster indeed; she licks her dead husband’s blood from her lover’s hand. The actress, Fritzi Haberlandt, is suitably detached from sexuality, but she makes the character into an insolent brat. Worse, she looks wrong for the part – too hard. Nonetheless, the actors drop their pants - literally, on stage - one after another, slaves to their appetites.

As the play progresses, that screen creeps downstage, crushing the actors against the fourth wall; there’s clearly an impressive conceptual talent at work. The production is enormously powerful, but so is a blunt object to the head.

Thalheimer’s minimalism, reducing the script to actors alone, is wrong for the script. Note that the characters speak German in Germany, but, in public, they speak French in Paris and English in London. This is super-naturalism. Indeed, it’s nearly farce, smaller than life: when Lulu (accidently?) shoots Husband Number Two, he says “I’m fat enough.” The director wants to give the characters the dignity of Greek prototypes, and he can’t. The lines themselves need context to be truthful. In reading, they’re cryptic. In this production, they’re undecipherable.

And speaking of the lines: there’s a tacky insert in the program crediting the English Titles. This should have been a clue, I suppose. The dialogue is difficult, even in the reading, and this cast spit out the lines with the rhythm of a machine gun. The surtitles aren’t up to the challenge, and it’s often impossible to tell which character is speaking the line we’re reading. A times, the surtitles give up, the screens are blank, and we’re left to out own devices.