Beehive: The 60's Musical
Desert Rose Playhouse
Review by Rob Spiegel
https://www.talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/alb/alb505.html
Here's a hoot of a show, created by Larry Gallagher, that features singing, dancing, and tales of joy and woe. And it's in the voice of the women during the 1960s, from the early Phil-Spector-produced girl groups singing Brill Building songs to the female power of Aretha Franklin, Tina Turner, and Janis Joplin. The Desert Rose Playhouse dresses it up with a ton of energy, some very nice voices and dancing, and a live band.
The list of 40-plus songs in Beehive: The 60's Musical vary in style from "The Name Game" by Shirley Ellis to "Chain of Fools," written by Don Covay and made famous by Aretha Franklin. No group of six singers can command all of these styles, one after another, with just a few weeks rehearsal, but the cast put together by co-directors Shiela Freed and Michael Montroy do a credible job. On many of the songs—both the sweet early '60s and the belting late '60s—the singers are surprisingly strong.
The cast falls into two groups, one that centers on sweet (Evelyn Coffing and Clara Lambert) and one that centered on brassy (Raelynn Currence, Keesha Hamilton, and Karen Byers)
Beehive is essentially a showcase of female songs from the 1960s that reveal the drastic social changes from the dawn of the decade to the end of the ten-year stretch, when we see the beginning of the women's movement and the height of the anti-war and hippie movements. The story rightly identifies the assignation of JFK as the jolt that sends the decade into a wild tailspin.
For me, the 1960s spans my life from 10 to 20 years old, so I remember each of these songs as they came out. During this decade, whole worlds of music popped up out of nowhere, from the early girl groups, through early Motown, early soul and the beginnings of classic rock.
The musical manages a small nod toward emotional development and a romantic story. We get a look at the odd dreaminess of teenage romance through the lyrics of the early '60s songs—true love can be determined by a kiss. We get the budding women's movement via Leslie's Gore's "You Don't Own Me," and the tragedy of a boyfriend lost during the Vietnam War Tet Offensive.
Yet the joyful music wins the day. During one sequence that moves through a litany of 1960s dances, cast members grab audience members and drag them out to dance. During this particular performance, I was one, and no, I don't remember how to do the mashed potatoes. It was quite the blast.
The band that drives Beehive includes Kathy Morris on drums, Gwen-Marie Lerch on guitar (and technical advisor), and Ben Jacobsen on electric piano. The musicians had to learn 40-some songs in a wide variety of styles, and they do a nice job, through te guitar is a tad subtle in the mix. When Lerch does break through, it is wonderful to hear. The center of the band's sound is Jacobsen's piano. He does a terrific job moving from style to style, often while receiving playful flirts from the cast. Amazingly, this is his first professional gig.
Overall, Beehive is a fun night of music. Freed and Montroy did a commendable job putting together such a wide-ranging review in just a few short weeks. The costumes by Angie's Costumes, Freed, and the cast members are interesting, going with loud 2009 mod-style bold and colorful dress patterns to replicate the mid-1960s. It works. Music direction comes from Coffin and Elizabeth Goldfarb, with music design by Montroy. Lighting design is by Dagmar Garza, and an arm of volunteers worked on the set.
I love this music, so it's not surprising I found this program a ton of fun.
Beehive: The 60's Musical, through July 15, 2018, at Desert Rose Playhouse, 6921 Montgomery Blvd NE, Albuquerque NM. Performances are on Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm and Sundays at 2:00. Tickets are $18 for general admission and $15 for students, seniors, and ATC members. For reservations, visit desertroseplayhouse.net.
POISON
By Lot Vekemans, Translated by Rina Vergano; Directed by Shiela Freed
Produced by Desert Rose Playhouse Theater Company
Runs May 25, 26, 27
Desert Rose Playhouse, 6921 Montgomery Blvd NE 87109
By Nick Johnson
BOTTOM LINE: A European-hit two-character drama about grief, closure, and moving on.
The opening moment of the Lot Vekemans’ play Poison—now playing at the Desert Rose Playhouse—is sung by Karen Byers. She delivers a rendition of the lyrics “I'm jealous of the way you're happy without me.” This sentiment echoes the fact that life goes on, reminding us that, no matter what, the sun will always come up in the morning. Like the sun, art, too, has this power. Vekemans’ play grapples with the messy subject of grief, and does it in a thoughtful and energizing way.
An estranged, divorced couple—She (played by Karen Byers) and He (played by Christopher Chase)—find themselves in the waiting room of a cemetery after not communicating for years. Their reunion was triggered by the horrific news that the body of their son Jacob (whose death played a significant part in their painful separation) will have to be exhumed. A "poison" has leeched into the soil and all the bodies are being moved. "So here we are then," they proclaim, as they are forced to deal with the massive orb of tangled loose ends they have left untouched for so long.
Years ago, He left to go live in Normandy, leaving his wife behind in the Netherlands, where this play takes place, though thanks to Rina Vergano’s seamless translation, the play could really take place anywhere. Through these years, questions of why He left; what her future holds; and how to cope with the all-consuming grief that does nothing but multiply, has plagued her life. Meanwhile, He has been reflecting on why She never tried to stop him, and what to do now: can one move on without closure or, as He describes it, without a "period on their histories"? It is hard to decipher what they want from each other in this moment of coming together. Though at first, they resist any "real talk"—something made evident from the beautifully crafted silences, which are filled with stirring inner life by the actors—the valve soon gets loosened and the dialogue takes a turn.
Byers and Chase are magnetic. Under the direction of Shiela Freed, these two artists effortlessly unpack a text loaded with emotional unrest. Chase is tasked with being the "cold" one—He abandoned his wife, He is too careful with his grief, too meticulous with his handling of difficult memories. On the other side of the waiting room is She: a volcano of emotions, her grief is chaotic and indiscriminately pervasive. Watching Byers and Chase, one questions who is doing it "right": is grief supposed to fill us or numb us, does loss give us weight or does it take it away? An artist with an undeniable sincerity and rawness, Byer's interpretation of this lost and wronged mother is enrapturing.
Freed’s direction allows us to peer into this extremely intimate moment and reflect on our own messy conversations and their effects. A subtle choice was to include actions where these two middle-aged characters almost seem childlike: sitting on the floor, eating chocolate, getting nosebleeds… The contrast this appearance of innocence offers against the colossal burden they bear is tremendously affecting.
Poison is a play for the lover of European theater and its tradition of tackling the tough questions head-on, with no artifice or spectacle. The Desert Rose Playhouse Theater Company has a knack for bringing the best of Europe to Albuquerque stages. Poison’s reflections on the failures of language to bridge the gap between She and He, as well as its proposed central action—to wait—is positively Beckettian (how appropriate to the venue). And then there’s the huis clos and the "hell is other people" element: hello Sartre! Poison embraces the methodology of its predecessors, while adding a concoction of surprises to the lineage. The appearance of musical breaks to underscore the very intimate moments of pain and anguish seem like something new, rather than something borrowed.
If you, too, are seeking out some therapeutic theater to get you through whatever pain is touching you, go see this play. I can’t promise it’ll help, but it might make you feel better about how muddied it all is.
Poison plays at Desert Rose Playhouse, 6921 Montgomery Blvd NE 87109, Performances are May 25, 26 at 7:30, and May 27 at 2. The running time is 90 minutes with no intermission. Tickets are $18.00 and are available by calling 505-563-0316 or by visiting www.desertroseplayhouse.net
Poison is by Lot Vekemans, translated by Rina Vergano. Directed by Shiela Freed. Set and Costume Design is by Shiela Freed. Lighting Design is by Dagmar Garza. Sound Design is by Michael Montroy. Stage Tech is Elizabeth Goldfarb. The cast is Karen Byers and Christopher Chase, with live vocals by Karen Byers.
Poison
Desert Rose Playhouse
Review by Rob Spiegel
Sometimes a play's primary purpose is to show us what it's like to be alive. And sometimes that's plenty. In Poison, a 2010 play by Dutch playwright Lot Vekemans, we see inside the powerful emotions of a broken couple many years after their separation. The English translation of the play by Rina Vergano hit U.S. audiences in 2016.
As the drama opens, the couple meets in a small chapel at a cemetery. They were previously married but "haven't seen each other in 10 years," according to the woman. "It's been nine years," corrects the man. Perhaps it's a trivial difference in perception, but every difference in perception is a point of contention with these two.
The couple is ostensibly at the cemetery because their son, who passed away when he was four, may need to be reinterred due to poison in the groundwater at the cemetery. They spend the entire play—pretty much in real time—waiting to meet with a cemetery official to consider options.
The cemetery is in the Netherlands where the woman still lives. The man has since moved to France. He arrives at the chapel first and while he's waiting for the woman to arrive, he takes notes in a notebook. We later find out he's writing a book about his experiences, presumably involving the death of his son. This becomes fodder for conflict.
In the play, the man and woman have no names, though we learn that the son's name is Jacob. During the minutes the man waits for his ex-wife, when he is not taking notes, he fondles a dinosaur toy, presumably his son's.
Over the course of the next couple of hours, we learn quite a bit about these two people. While they are both deeply wounded by the death of their son, who was hit by a car, we discover that the man has more or less successfully overcome the debilitating aspects of his grief. His ex-wife is still virtually frozen by sorrow over the death of her son and the death of her marriage. She remembers the exact moment her husband walked out, 7:20 pm on New Year's Eve, 1999.
While grief over the loss of a child can cause marital strife, it's apparently a myth that it leads to a high number or divorces. In 2006, Compassionate Friends conducted a survey that found 16% of couples divorced after the death of a child. Many of those couples cited existing marital strife. Those who identified the death of the child as the reason for divorce was 4%. Faulty data on the subject dating back to the 1970s put the rate at 90%.
As the man and woman become reacquainted, their differences emerge, and wounds reopen. We can see hints of the affection that originally brought these two together, but that's small compared with their raw and brutal conflicts. She resents his ability to move on, and he resents the guilt she tries to thrust on him. The emotions are certainly credible, but they're tough to watch. The script dangles a few questions as we learn the history of the couple. Those mysteries are revealed effectively as the emotions between the two characters rise and fall.
Director Shiela Freed has done a nice job with the production, pulling together two Desert Rose Playhouse stalwarts, Karen Byers and Christopher Chase. The two are veterans in the clash of the sexes, having gone after each other in Constellations and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. They both turn in superb performances.
Freed is responsible for the trim and appropriate set. The music design comes from Michael Montroy, with music wizard and operation by Elizabeth Goldfarb. The presence of the music is excellent. The volume is low but still audible during dialog, then rising slightly in volume during quiet moments. The music selection tracks the emotions onstage without getting corny. Wonderfully done.
I once again commend the Desert Rose Playhouse for bringing another strong new play to Albuquerque theatregoers.
Poison, through May 27, 2018, at the Desert Rose Playhouse, 6921 Montgomery Blvd NE, Albuquerque NM. Performances are on Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm and Sundays at 2:00. Tickets are $18 for general admission and $15 for students, seniors, and ATC members. For reservations, go online to desertroseplayhouse.net
Desert Rose Playhouse
Review by Rob Spiegel
https://www.talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/alb/alb505.html
Here's a hoot of a show, created by Larry Gallagher, that features singing, dancing, and tales of joy and woe. And it's in the voice of the women during the 1960s, from the early Phil-Spector-produced girl groups singing Brill Building songs to the female power of Aretha Franklin, Tina Turner, and Janis Joplin. The Desert Rose Playhouse dresses it up with a ton of energy, some very nice voices and dancing, and a live band.
The list of 40-plus songs in Beehive: The 60's Musical vary in style from "The Name Game" by Shirley Ellis to "Chain of Fools," written by Don Covay and made famous by Aretha Franklin. No group of six singers can command all of these styles, one after another, with just a few weeks rehearsal, but the cast put together by co-directors Shiela Freed and Michael Montroy do a credible job. On many of the songs—both the sweet early '60s and the belting late '60s—the singers are surprisingly strong.
The cast falls into two groups, one that centers on sweet (Evelyn Coffing and Clara Lambert) and one that centered on brassy (Raelynn Currence, Keesha Hamilton, and Karen Byers)
Beehive is essentially a showcase of female songs from the 1960s that reveal the drastic social changes from the dawn of the decade to the end of the ten-year stretch, when we see the beginning of the women's movement and the height of the anti-war and hippie movements. The story rightly identifies the assignation of JFK as the jolt that sends the decade into a wild tailspin.
For me, the 1960s spans my life from 10 to 20 years old, so I remember each of these songs as they came out. During this decade, whole worlds of music popped up out of nowhere, from the early girl groups, through early Motown, early soul and the beginnings of classic rock.
The musical manages a small nod toward emotional development and a romantic story. We get a look at the odd dreaminess of teenage romance through the lyrics of the early '60s songs—true love can be determined by a kiss. We get the budding women's movement via Leslie's Gore's "You Don't Own Me," and the tragedy of a boyfriend lost during the Vietnam War Tet Offensive.
Yet the joyful music wins the day. During one sequence that moves through a litany of 1960s dances, cast members grab audience members and drag them out to dance. During this particular performance, I was one, and no, I don't remember how to do the mashed potatoes. It was quite the blast.
The band that drives Beehive includes Kathy Morris on drums, Gwen-Marie Lerch on guitar (and technical advisor), and Ben Jacobsen on electric piano. The musicians had to learn 40-some songs in a wide variety of styles, and they do a nice job, through te guitar is a tad subtle in the mix. When Lerch does break through, it is wonderful to hear. The center of the band's sound is Jacobsen's piano. He does a terrific job moving from style to style, often while receiving playful flirts from the cast. Amazingly, this is his first professional gig.
Overall, Beehive is a fun night of music. Freed and Montroy did a commendable job putting together such a wide-ranging review in just a few short weeks. The costumes by Angie's Costumes, Freed, and the cast members are interesting, going with loud 2009 mod-style bold and colorful dress patterns to replicate the mid-1960s. It works. Music direction comes from Coffin and Elizabeth Goldfarb, with music design by Montroy. Lighting design is by Dagmar Garza, and an arm of volunteers worked on the set.
I love this music, so it's not surprising I found this program a ton of fun.
Beehive: The 60's Musical, through July 15, 2018, at Desert Rose Playhouse, 6921 Montgomery Blvd NE, Albuquerque NM. Performances are on Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm and Sundays at 2:00. Tickets are $18 for general admission and $15 for students, seniors, and ATC members. For reservations, visit desertroseplayhouse.net.
POISON
By Lot Vekemans, Translated by Rina Vergano; Directed by Shiela Freed
Produced by Desert Rose Playhouse Theater Company
Runs May 25, 26, 27
Desert Rose Playhouse, 6921 Montgomery Blvd NE 87109
By Nick Johnson
BOTTOM LINE: A European-hit two-character drama about grief, closure, and moving on.
The opening moment of the Lot Vekemans’ play Poison—now playing at the Desert Rose Playhouse—is sung by Karen Byers. She delivers a rendition of the lyrics “I'm jealous of the way you're happy without me.” This sentiment echoes the fact that life goes on, reminding us that, no matter what, the sun will always come up in the morning. Like the sun, art, too, has this power. Vekemans’ play grapples with the messy subject of grief, and does it in a thoughtful and energizing way.
An estranged, divorced couple—She (played by Karen Byers) and He (played by Christopher Chase)—find themselves in the waiting room of a cemetery after not communicating for years. Their reunion was triggered by the horrific news that the body of their son Jacob (whose death played a significant part in their painful separation) will have to be exhumed. A "poison" has leeched into the soil and all the bodies are being moved. "So here we are then," they proclaim, as they are forced to deal with the massive orb of tangled loose ends they have left untouched for so long.
Years ago, He left to go live in Normandy, leaving his wife behind in the Netherlands, where this play takes place, though thanks to Rina Vergano’s seamless translation, the play could really take place anywhere. Through these years, questions of why He left; what her future holds; and how to cope with the all-consuming grief that does nothing but multiply, has plagued her life. Meanwhile, He has been reflecting on why She never tried to stop him, and what to do now: can one move on without closure or, as He describes it, without a "period on their histories"? It is hard to decipher what they want from each other in this moment of coming together. Though at first, they resist any "real talk"—something made evident from the beautifully crafted silences, which are filled with stirring inner life by the actors—the valve soon gets loosened and the dialogue takes a turn.
Byers and Chase are magnetic. Under the direction of Shiela Freed, these two artists effortlessly unpack a text loaded with emotional unrest. Chase is tasked with being the "cold" one—He abandoned his wife, He is too careful with his grief, too meticulous with his handling of difficult memories. On the other side of the waiting room is She: a volcano of emotions, her grief is chaotic and indiscriminately pervasive. Watching Byers and Chase, one questions who is doing it "right": is grief supposed to fill us or numb us, does loss give us weight or does it take it away? An artist with an undeniable sincerity and rawness, Byer's interpretation of this lost and wronged mother is enrapturing.
Freed’s direction allows us to peer into this extremely intimate moment and reflect on our own messy conversations and their effects. A subtle choice was to include actions where these two middle-aged characters almost seem childlike: sitting on the floor, eating chocolate, getting nosebleeds… The contrast this appearance of innocence offers against the colossal burden they bear is tremendously affecting.
Poison is a play for the lover of European theater and its tradition of tackling the tough questions head-on, with no artifice or spectacle. The Desert Rose Playhouse Theater Company has a knack for bringing the best of Europe to Albuquerque stages. Poison’s reflections on the failures of language to bridge the gap between She and He, as well as its proposed central action—to wait—is positively Beckettian (how appropriate to the venue). And then there’s the huis clos and the "hell is other people" element: hello Sartre! Poison embraces the methodology of its predecessors, while adding a concoction of surprises to the lineage. The appearance of musical breaks to underscore the very intimate moments of pain and anguish seem like something new, rather than something borrowed.
If you, too, are seeking out some therapeutic theater to get you through whatever pain is touching you, go see this play. I can’t promise it’ll help, but it might make you feel better about how muddied it all is.
Poison plays at Desert Rose Playhouse, 6921 Montgomery Blvd NE 87109, Performances are May 25, 26 at 7:30, and May 27 at 2. The running time is 90 minutes with no intermission. Tickets are $18.00 and are available by calling 505-563-0316 or by visiting www.desertroseplayhouse.net
Poison is by Lot Vekemans, translated by Rina Vergano. Directed by Shiela Freed. Set and Costume Design is by Shiela Freed. Lighting Design is by Dagmar Garza. Sound Design is by Michael Montroy. Stage Tech is Elizabeth Goldfarb. The cast is Karen Byers and Christopher Chase, with live vocals by Karen Byers.
Poison
Desert Rose Playhouse
Review by Rob Spiegel
Sometimes a play's primary purpose is to show us what it's like to be alive. And sometimes that's plenty. In Poison, a 2010 play by Dutch playwright Lot Vekemans, we see inside the powerful emotions of a broken couple many years after their separation. The English translation of the play by Rina Vergano hit U.S. audiences in 2016.
As the drama opens, the couple meets in a small chapel at a cemetery. They were previously married but "haven't seen each other in 10 years," according to the woman. "It's been nine years," corrects the man. Perhaps it's a trivial difference in perception, but every difference in perception is a point of contention with these two.
The couple is ostensibly at the cemetery because their son, who passed away when he was four, may need to be reinterred due to poison in the groundwater at the cemetery. They spend the entire play—pretty much in real time—waiting to meet with a cemetery official to consider options.
The cemetery is in the Netherlands where the woman still lives. The man has since moved to France. He arrives at the chapel first and while he's waiting for the woman to arrive, he takes notes in a notebook. We later find out he's writing a book about his experiences, presumably involving the death of his son. This becomes fodder for conflict.
In the play, the man and woman have no names, though we learn that the son's name is Jacob. During the minutes the man waits for his ex-wife, when he is not taking notes, he fondles a dinosaur toy, presumably his son's.
Over the course of the next couple of hours, we learn quite a bit about these two people. While they are both deeply wounded by the death of their son, who was hit by a car, we discover that the man has more or less successfully overcome the debilitating aspects of his grief. His ex-wife is still virtually frozen by sorrow over the death of her son and the death of her marriage. She remembers the exact moment her husband walked out, 7:20 pm on New Year's Eve, 1999.
While grief over the loss of a child can cause marital strife, it's apparently a myth that it leads to a high number or divorces. In 2006, Compassionate Friends conducted a survey that found 16% of couples divorced after the death of a child. Many of those couples cited existing marital strife. Those who identified the death of the child as the reason for divorce was 4%. Faulty data on the subject dating back to the 1970s put the rate at 90%.
As the man and woman become reacquainted, their differences emerge, and wounds reopen. We can see hints of the affection that originally brought these two together, but that's small compared with their raw and brutal conflicts. She resents his ability to move on, and he resents the guilt she tries to thrust on him. The emotions are certainly credible, but they're tough to watch. The script dangles a few questions as we learn the history of the couple. Those mysteries are revealed effectively as the emotions between the two characters rise and fall.
Director Shiela Freed has done a nice job with the production, pulling together two Desert Rose Playhouse stalwarts, Karen Byers and Christopher Chase. The two are veterans in the clash of the sexes, having gone after each other in Constellations and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. They both turn in superb performances.
Freed is responsible for the trim and appropriate set. The music design comes from Michael Montroy, with music wizard and operation by Elizabeth Goldfarb. The presence of the music is excellent. The volume is low but still audible during dialog, then rising slightly in volume during quiet moments. The music selection tracks the emotions onstage without getting corny. Wonderfully done.
I once again commend the Desert Rose Playhouse for bringing another strong new play to Albuquerque theatregoers.
Poison, through May 27, 2018, at the Desert Rose Playhouse, 6921 Montgomery Blvd NE, Albuquerque NM. Performances are on Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm and Sundays at 2:00. Tickets are $18 for general admission and $15 for students, seniors, and ATC members. For reservations, go online to desertroseplayhouse.net
A small cast of two brings emotional power to Constellations at Desert Rose Playhouse
As the nights grow longer and colder with the onset of the last month of the year, the seasonally depressed and the perpetually cold may take heart that there is a wealth of theatrical performances being staged throughout the month by our talented local troupes. Passing time in the darkened playhouse as stories unfold in front of your eyes may accelerate the passing of winter, or—even if you have a more positive stance on the season—enhance your enjoyment of it. Opening in the final days of November, or otherwise on Dec. 1, are three noteworthy performances staged at three of Albuquerque's most beloved theaters.
First up is Constellations at Desert Rose Playhouse (6921 Montgomery Blvd. NE) in Northeast Albuquerque, which opened the day after Thanksgiving and runs through Dec. 17. The show premiered in London in 2012, finally making it stateside in 2015. Now, Constellations is debuting in Albuquerque with a small cast of just two, Roland and Marianne, played by Karen Byers and Christopher Chase. In a single act, the world as we know it is abandoned in favor of a heady series of alternate worlds, and all their alternate possibilities. A series of vignettes repeats the characters first meeting again, and again. In some scenarios girl meets boy and they part forever, in some they wind up together, in others they love and then lose one another. As Marianne tells Roland, “in the quantum multiverse, every decision you’ve ever and never made exists in an unimaginably vast ensemble of parallel universes.” Marianne specializes in “theoretical early universe cosmology,” and those cerebral concepts are poignantly applied to the infinities of love in Constellations. Rave reviews the world over means that you'll want to get this one in your calendar and buy a ticket ASAP at desertroseplayhouse.net.
Constellations
Desert Rose Playhouse
Review by Rob Spiegel
www.talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/alb/alb458.html
Science fiction has long played with the possibilities of quantum mechanics and the idea that we live in a multiverse rather than a universe. The concept suggests that our lives play out in infinite possibilities. In Constellations, British playwright Nick Payne takes this concept into a romantic narrative.
I've experienced an eerie intuitive sense of a multiverse twice in my life, and both times it involved death. When I was 20, my roommate died. At the time, I had this powerful feeling that he was still alive in some other universe. The idea haunts me to this day. Then, about five years ago, I went through a health crisis that landed me in a coma for three weeks. When I awoke, I had a powerful feeling that I had died in another universe. I had a complete sense of what my family and friends went through as a result of my death.
I've come out of those experiences with a keen sense that the concept of a multiverse has some practical credence. Consequently, I was perfectly happy with the idea of a story in which two characters play out multiple possibilities of their boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-gets-girl-back-again relationship.
In Payne's 2012 play, currently appearing at Desert Rose Playhouse, Roland (Christopher Chase) and Marianne (Karen Byers) meet at a barbecue. He's a beekeeper and she's a theoretical physicist. They play out a four- or five-minute meeting four or five times, each with different moods, interests, and emotions. In one instance, Roland is married. In another he has just come out of a serious relationship. From there, we watch as other scenes in their relationship play out in multiple forms. After a date, she asks him to leave. He's upset, or he's belligerent, or he's accepting. They move in, and someone cheats. He cheats, or she cheats—we see a number of permutations. Then we're on to a re-meet-up, a marriage, and illness.
Each stage of their relationship is played out in multiple ways, from complete disconnection and anger to love and compassion. In one instance, they are both deaf and have an argument in sign language. The concept lends itself to the possibility of true annoyance. Yet it's not annoying. The different permutations are not random; they arise from the well-articulated personality and character of both Roland and Marianne.
The saving grace of this play comes as Payne creates a form of progression in the interactions of this couple. Each scene opens with pronounced disconnection and missed cues. The attraction is apparent, but the characters are feeble in their ability to articulate their needs. Thus, they lash out or withdraw even as they're pulled together. After they've played out the scene a few times, gentleness and compassion begin to emerge. Confusion is replaced by acceptance. We begin to see the one thing that can break through and make sense of these random encounters: growth.
Chase and Byers deliver splendid performances through this difficult script. These two were last matched in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, where they turned in terrific performances as George and Martha. Grueling as George and Martha may be, I would guess Roland and Marianne were more of a challenge. At least George and Martha remain steadfastly themselves through the story.
Roland and Marianne run through different versions of themselves—some petty and immature, some wise and caring. The task for the actors is to make sure Roland is always Roland-esque; likewise with Marianne. Chase and Byers have to find the core of their characters even as each character swirls through varied emotions, reacting in different ways to the same stimulus.
This must have been a difficult script for director Matthew Montroy, who also directed these two actors in Virginia Woolf. Montroy had the daunting task of creating different responses to the same dialog. In some scenes, the dialog is repeated word for word, yet the emotions change. The actors have to play the same scene with the same words in an entirely different manner—while still staying true to the essence of each character. Montroy and actors deliver well on this challenge.
My autistic daughter accompanied me to the play. At the conclusion, she said—loud enough for every audience member to hear—"I didn't understand that at all!" Her strict literal and linier perception couldn't make sense of watching these characters run through the same scenes over and over. She had trouble seeing the subtle emotional progression taking place. Albuquerque Journal reviewer Matthew Yde was sitting with us. He leaned over to my daughter and said, "Don't worry, your father will explain it to you."
The play is relatively easy to explain. We're all in Groundhog Day, struggling to get love right, learning desperately to quit lashing out in need, confusion and anger—struggling to turn attraction into understanding, acceptance, and tenderness. In a quantum multiverse, we get infinite tries at perfecting our ability to love and connect while remaining essentially ourselves.
This is an excellent production led by Montroy. The slides behind the actors by Shiela Freed and Elizabeth Goldfarb are well chosen, as are the odd selection of love songs put together by Montroy that play in the background. The choice of songs seems random, but maybe not. Huge kudos to Chase and Byers for taking us through this kaleidoscope of behaviors while revealing characters who are substantially themselves.
Constellations, at the Desert Rose Playhouse through December 17, 2017, 6921 Montgomery Blvd. NE, Albuquerque NM. Performances are on Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm and Sundays at 2:00. Tickets are $18 for general admission and $15 for students, seniors, and ATC members. For reservations, visit desertroseplayhouse.net.
Desert Rose Playhouse
Review by Rob Spiegel
www.talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/alb/alb458.html
Science fiction has long played with the possibilities of quantum mechanics and the idea that we live in a multiverse rather than a universe. The concept suggests that our lives play out in infinite possibilities. In Constellations, British playwright Nick Payne takes this concept into a romantic narrative.
I've experienced an eerie intuitive sense of a multiverse twice in my life, and both times it involved death. When I was 20, my roommate died. At the time, I had this powerful feeling that he was still alive in some other universe. The idea haunts me to this day. Then, about five years ago, I went through a health crisis that landed me in a coma for three weeks. When I awoke, I had a powerful feeling that I had died in another universe. I had a complete sense of what my family and friends went through as a result of my death.
I've come out of those experiences with a keen sense that the concept of a multiverse has some practical credence. Consequently, I was perfectly happy with the idea of a story in which two characters play out multiple possibilities of their boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-gets-girl-back-again relationship.
In Payne's 2012 play, currently appearing at Desert Rose Playhouse, Roland (Christopher Chase) and Marianne (Karen Byers) meet at a barbecue. He's a beekeeper and she's a theoretical physicist. They play out a four- or five-minute meeting four or five times, each with different moods, interests, and emotions. In one instance, Roland is married. In another he has just come out of a serious relationship. From there, we watch as other scenes in their relationship play out in multiple forms. After a date, she asks him to leave. He's upset, or he's belligerent, or he's accepting. They move in, and someone cheats. He cheats, or she cheats—we see a number of permutations. Then we're on to a re-meet-up, a marriage, and illness.
Each stage of their relationship is played out in multiple ways, from complete disconnection and anger to love and compassion. In one instance, they are both deaf and have an argument in sign language. The concept lends itself to the possibility of true annoyance. Yet it's not annoying. The different permutations are not random; they arise from the well-articulated personality and character of both Roland and Marianne.
The saving grace of this play comes as Payne creates a form of progression in the interactions of this couple. Each scene opens with pronounced disconnection and missed cues. The attraction is apparent, but the characters are feeble in their ability to articulate their needs. Thus, they lash out or withdraw even as they're pulled together. After they've played out the scene a few times, gentleness and compassion begin to emerge. Confusion is replaced by acceptance. We begin to see the one thing that can break through and make sense of these random encounters: growth.
Chase and Byers deliver splendid performances through this difficult script. These two were last matched in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, where they turned in terrific performances as George and Martha. Grueling as George and Martha may be, I would guess Roland and Marianne were more of a challenge. At least George and Martha remain steadfastly themselves through the story.
Roland and Marianne run through different versions of themselves—some petty and immature, some wise and caring. The task for the actors is to make sure Roland is always Roland-esque; likewise with Marianne. Chase and Byers have to find the core of their characters even as each character swirls through varied emotions, reacting in different ways to the same stimulus.
This must have been a difficult script for director Matthew Montroy, who also directed these two actors in Virginia Woolf. Montroy had the daunting task of creating different responses to the same dialog. In some scenes, the dialog is repeated word for word, yet the emotions change. The actors have to play the same scene with the same words in an entirely different manner—while still staying true to the essence of each character. Montroy and actors deliver well on this challenge.
My autistic daughter accompanied me to the play. At the conclusion, she said—loud enough for every audience member to hear—"I didn't understand that at all!" Her strict literal and linier perception couldn't make sense of watching these characters run through the same scenes over and over. She had trouble seeing the subtle emotional progression taking place. Albuquerque Journal reviewer Matthew Yde was sitting with us. He leaned over to my daughter and said, "Don't worry, your father will explain it to you."
The play is relatively easy to explain. We're all in Groundhog Day, struggling to get love right, learning desperately to quit lashing out in need, confusion and anger—struggling to turn attraction into understanding, acceptance, and tenderness. In a quantum multiverse, we get infinite tries at perfecting our ability to love and connect while remaining essentially ourselves.
This is an excellent production led by Montroy. The slides behind the actors by Shiela Freed and Elizabeth Goldfarb are well chosen, as are the odd selection of love songs put together by Montroy that play in the background. The choice of songs seems random, but maybe not. Huge kudos to Chase and Byers for taking us through this kaleidoscope of behaviors while revealing characters who are substantially themselves.
Constellations, at the Desert Rose Playhouse through December 17, 2017, 6921 Montgomery Blvd. NE, Albuquerque NM. Performances are on Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm and Sundays at 2:00. Tickets are $18 for general admission and $15 for students, seniors, and ATC members. For reservations, visit desertroseplayhouse.net.
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Desert Rose Playhouse
Review by Rob Spiegel
www.talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/alb/alb417.html
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was the first play that scared the bejesus out of me. That was forty years ago. I was terrified that an intimate relationship could become as brutal as the scorched-earth battleground of George and Martha. Funny how our fears track us down. Having tasted a bit of this flavor in real life, the story ain't as scary now. But it's still just as powerful.
Much of the play's power comes from its hard reality. I've seen reviewers stretch to find meaning beyond the simply display of a marriage turned destructive - such as illusion versus reality - but that reach isn't necessary. The beauty of this play is its stunning accuracy and its disturbing honesty.
1962 was a timid time. The Pulitzer Prize drama jury recommended the play, but the advisory board went queasy. No prize for drama was awarded that year. It was a big event in 1966 when Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was turned into a movie starring Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, directed by Mike Nichols. Though good, it was a toned-down abbreviated version that lacked some of the rawness and red-hot fire of the play. The move showed the scars, but failed to show the gaping wounds. For that, you need the full three hours, the coarse language, and out-of-bounds touching a 1966 movie wasn't allowed to produce.
The Desert Rose Playhouse decided to take on Albee's play in response to his death at 88 last September, and they've done a tremendous job. Director Michael Montroy delivers superb casting. He brought Christopher Chase (George) and Bryan Durden (Nick) back together after directing them successfully in Tuesdays with Morrie last year. He also made the excellent choice to bring Karen Byers (Martha) and Becky Vogsland (Honey) into the mix. Where on earth did he find these two? More please.
All four actors deliver the story with force and edgy authenticity. Goodness, after 55 years, this play is still a wild animal. The actors jump into the ring without reservation, yelling and spittin'. Three hours of it, not even counting the two intermissions. Chase digs deep for expressions and responses to flesh out the script. His taunting and teasing of Honey is inspired (perhaps the credit goes to the director—not sure). The cruel condescension is delicious.
Byers' job with Martha requires somewhat less subtlety. Martha has one speed—she goes for the throat— and Byers delivers this in full force. Not for a moment does it seem like Byers is reciting lines. Martha rises organically from the actor's body. Durden does a nice job as the dupe who's clever-but-not-clever-enough to be any match for George and Martha. Vogsland has found places in Honey I hadn't seen before. While George and Martha mock her seeming dim-wittedness, Vogsland suggests Honey isn't quite so unaware. She's knows she's no match for her vicious elders, but she seems to realize their force of personality doesn't redeem their emotional corruption any more than their complete lack of restraint passes as honesty.
Hats off to a wonderful set, thanks to Sheila Freed, Dagmar Garza, Bryan Durden, and Karin Pitman. Lighting (Carl Green), music (Elizabeth Goldfarb), and costumes (Freed and Sherry May) are all solid.
This is an impressive production for this small theatre. The Desert Rose Playhouse is doing quite a favor to Albuquerque's theatre community by presenting one terrific play after another, concentrating on award winners.
Desert Rose Playhouse
Review by Rob Spiegel
www.talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/alb/alb417.html
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was the first play that scared the bejesus out of me. That was forty years ago. I was terrified that an intimate relationship could become as brutal as the scorched-earth battleground of George and Martha. Funny how our fears track us down. Having tasted a bit of this flavor in real life, the story ain't as scary now. But it's still just as powerful.
Much of the play's power comes from its hard reality. I've seen reviewers stretch to find meaning beyond the simply display of a marriage turned destructive - such as illusion versus reality - but that reach isn't necessary. The beauty of this play is its stunning accuracy and its disturbing honesty.
1962 was a timid time. The Pulitzer Prize drama jury recommended the play, but the advisory board went queasy. No prize for drama was awarded that year. It was a big event in 1966 when Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was turned into a movie starring Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, directed by Mike Nichols. Though good, it was a toned-down abbreviated version that lacked some of the rawness and red-hot fire of the play. The move showed the scars, but failed to show the gaping wounds. For that, you need the full three hours, the coarse language, and out-of-bounds touching a 1966 movie wasn't allowed to produce.
The Desert Rose Playhouse decided to take on Albee's play in response to his death at 88 last September, and they've done a tremendous job. Director Michael Montroy delivers superb casting. He brought Christopher Chase (George) and Bryan Durden (Nick) back together after directing them successfully in Tuesdays with Morrie last year. He also made the excellent choice to bring Karen Byers (Martha) and Becky Vogsland (Honey) into the mix. Where on earth did he find these two? More please.
All four actors deliver the story with force and edgy authenticity. Goodness, after 55 years, this play is still a wild animal. The actors jump into the ring without reservation, yelling and spittin'. Three hours of it, not even counting the two intermissions. Chase digs deep for expressions and responses to flesh out the script. His taunting and teasing of Honey is inspired (perhaps the credit goes to the director—not sure). The cruel condescension is delicious.
Byers' job with Martha requires somewhat less subtlety. Martha has one speed—she goes for the throat— and Byers delivers this in full force. Not for a moment does it seem like Byers is reciting lines. Martha rises organically from the actor's body. Durden does a nice job as the dupe who's clever-but-not-clever-enough to be any match for George and Martha. Vogsland has found places in Honey I hadn't seen before. While George and Martha mock her seeming dim-wittedness, Vogsland suggests Honey isn't quite so unaware. She's knows she's no match for her vicious elders, but she seems to realize their force of personality doesn't redeem their emotional corruption any more than their complete lack of restraint passes as honesty.
Hats off to a wonderful set, thanks to Sheila Freed, Dagmar Garza, Bryan Durden, and Karin Pitman. Lighting (Carl Green), music (Elizabeth Goldfarb), and costumes (Freed and Sherry May) are all solid.
This is an impressive production for this small theatre. The Desert Rose Playhouse is doing quite a favor to Albuquerque's theatre community by presenting one terrific play after another, concentrating on award winners.
Anna In The Tropics
written by Rob Spiegel
Pulitzer Prize-winning play is centered in history. Through the 1920s, cigar rollers were entertained by lectors, well-dressed men who would read to the workers to ward off the boredom of the daylong repetitive work. The lectors were paid by the workers. This practice continued until the 1930s when automation replaced hand-rolling. The story ofAnna in the Tropics takes place in a cigar-rolling factory in Ybor City, Florida, a section of Tampa where transplanted Cubans produced cigars.
In the Desert Rose Ploayhouse production, the play opens in split screen. On the right, the two brothers who own the factory, Chester (Carl Green) and Santiago (Jim Duran), are gambling. Santiago is on a losing streak, and Chester loans him money against additional shares in the factory. Santiago can't pay him back, which gives Chester control of the factory. On the left, Ophelia (Talia Pura) and her two daughters, Conchita (Dagmar Garza) and Marela (Alexandra Uranga), are waiting on the dock for the appearance of the new lector who is set to arrive by boat.
Juan Julian (Aaron Lade) the lector arrives immaculately dressed in a white Panama hat and a bright white suit. Lade is perfectly cast, since he is a two-time runner up for Colorado's Prettiest Man in Theater award. As can be expected, the women love him and the men detest him, particularly Conchita's husband Palomo and Chester, whose wife ran off with a lector years earlier.
During his first day on the job as lector, Juan begins reading "Anna Karenina" by Tolstoy. Tolstoy's story of forbidden love, betrayal, and emotional desperation begins to come alive among the characters of the cigar factory as Juan makes his way through the novel.
In her Director's Note, Wendy Jay explains that she chose Anna in the Tropics "because of the poetry of Nilo Cruz's writing." And beautiful it is. The writing was strong enough to garner the attention of the Pulitzer Prize committe in 2003, even though the play had only been performed at the New Theatre in Coral Gables and was up against tough competition that year from Edward Albee and Richard Greenberg.
The power of the play is in its luscious language and a fiery romanticism that doesn't spill into sentimentality. As the lector moves through "Anna Karenina," the characters' lives spin out of control in unpredictable ways. Some are enhanced by the disruption in their lives, while others are driven to desperation. And it's all very passionate.
Amid the swirling emotions, Kay keeps a steady hand even while bringing the action nose-to-nose with the audience. Gotta love a small theater's ability to spill drama into the aisles. All of the acting performances are solid, and a number are exceptional. Garza as Conchita the romantic lead oozes passion. She usually works behind the scenes, but is a treasure who needs to be out front more. Durden as Conchita's put-upon husband is excellent, as always, even though his role here is to hang back and smolder a bit.
Pura, Uranga, and Lade are new to me. They are all great. I'd like to see more of them. Duran is also very good, especially in his breakdown before his wife. Another terrific performance is Carl Green as the resentful bully of a boss. His use of a cigar as a personality prop is superb all through the production.
The set design by Garza—she's still behind the scenes even when she's the lead—is just right, trim but sufficiently detailed. The costumes, lighting, and music are spot on. Rogelio Fernandez provided dialect coaching, a role on the production sheet that always prompts a bit of a cringe. He has done a nice job with the cast. The accents are flawless to me.
Thanks yet again to the Desert Rose for bringing this Pulitzer Prize winning drama to Albuquerque.
written by Rob Spiegel
Pulitzer Prize-winning play is centered in history. Through the 1920s, cigar rollers were entertained by lectors, well-dressed men who would read to the workers to ward off the boredom of the daylong repetitive work. The lectors were paid by the workers. This practice continued until the 1930s when automation replaced hand-rolling. The story ofAnna in the Tropics takes place in a cigar-rolling factory in Ybor City, Florida, a section of Tampa where transplanted Cubans produced cigars.
In the Desert Rose Ploayhouse production, the play opens in split screen. On the right, the two brothers who own the factory, Chester (Carl Green) and Santiago (Jim Duran), are gambling. Santiago is on a losing streak, and Chester loans him money against additional shares in the factory. Santiago can't pay him back, which gives Chester control of the factory. On the left, Ophelia (Talia Pura) and her two daughters, Conchita (Dagmar Garza) and Marela (Alexandra Uranga), are waiting on the dock for the appearance of the new lector who is set to arrive by boat.
Juan Julian (Aaron Lade) the lector arrives immaculately dressed in a white Panama hat and a bright white suit. Lade is perfectly cast, since he is a two-time runner up for Colorado's Prettiest Man in Theater award. As can be expected, the women love him and the men detest him, particularly Conchita's husband Palomo and Chester, whose wife ran off with a lector years earlier.
During his first day on the job as lector, Juan begins reading "Anna Karenina" by Tolstoy. Tolstoy's story of forbidden love, betrayal, and emotional desperation begins to come alive among the characters of the cigar factory as Juan makes his way through the novel.
In her Director's Note, Wendy Jay explains that she chose Anna in the Tropics "because of the poetry of Nilo Cruz's writing." And beautiful it is. The writing was strong enough to garner the attention of the Pulitzer Prize committe in 2003, even though the play had only been performed at the New Theatre in Coral Gables and was up against tough competition that year from Edward Albee and Richard Greenberg.
The power of the play is in its luscious language and a fiery romanticism that doesn't spill into sentimentality. As the lector moves through "Anna Karenina," the characters' lives spin out of control in unpredictable ways. Some are enhanced by the disruption in their lives, while others are driven to desperation. And it's all very passionate.
Amid the swirling emotions, Kay keeps a steady hand even while bringing the action nose-to-nose with the audience. Gotta love a small theater's ability to spill drama into the aisles. All of the acting performances are solid, and a number are exceptional. Garza as Conchita the romantic lead oozes passion. She usually works behind the scenes, but is a treasure who needs to be out front more. Durden as Conchita's put-upon husband is excellent, as always, even though his role here is to hang back and smolder a bit.
Pura, Uranga, and Lade are new to me. They are all great. I'd like to see more of them. Duran is also very good, especially in his breakdown before his wife. Another terrific performance is Carl Green as the resentful bully of a boss. His use of a cigar as a personality prop is superb all through the production.
The set design by Garza—she's still behind the scenes even when she's the lead—is just right, trim but sufficiently detailed. The costumes, lighting, and music are spot on. Rogelio Fernandez provided dialect coaching, a role on the production sheet that always prompts a bit of a cringe. He has done a nice job with the cast. The accents are flawless to me.
Thanks yet again to the Desert Rose for bringing this Pulitzer Prize winning drama to Albuquerque.
Memoir: The Ravings of a Theatre Genius
Review by Rob Spiegel
Sarah Bernhardt had a long career on the stage stretching from the mid-1800s to 1922 when she was 79. Hers was one of the first voices recorded on a gramophone, and she was one of few women who actually played Hamlet.Memoir by John Murrell looks at her last days as she was working on her second autobiography. Her first memoir, "My Double Life" was published in 1907.
The Desert Rose Playhouse offers a new twist on this 1977 play. When the artistic director contacted the playwright to license Memoir, Murrell asked that Desert Rose use his revised script. While the original version of the play has been performed widely in France—where Bernhardt is considered a national treasure—the Desert Rose Playhouse can claim the privilege of presenting the world premier of Murrell's revised version.
Murrell's play depicts Bernhardt reliving the various dramas of her life while her assistant, Georges Pitou, takes notes. In many ways, Memoir resembles a one-person show. This form typically presents an historical character who rehearses dramatic autobiographical material. In the case of Memoir, the character of Bernhardt has a foil in the form of Georges Pitou. The play takes some liberties with fact. Pitou was an actual assistant to Bernhardt, but he was no longer in her employ by 1922.
The Pitou character gives life to the play. He counters Bernhardt's dramatic ramblings with comedic dialog. In order to prompt her failing memory, Bernhardt asks Pitou to play characters from her past, primarily her mother and sister. John Baca-Saavedra's portrayal of the women in Bernhardt's life is laughably funny. He's terrific throughout.
Georgia Athearn as Bernhardt is gloriously effusive in displaying the actress's self-involvement and old-age mental deterioration. Depicted in Murrell's play, Bernhardt is clearly an impossible personality, especially in her dementia. Yet it's also clear she is very likely the greatest actress of her generation. So she's not easily dismissed even in her dotage. Athearn is tireless in delivering Bernhardt in full storm.
Throughout, Pitou teases her, like a kid poking a caged ferret with a stick. When Bernhardt notices his passive aggressive taunts and neglects—which isn't often, given her self-centeredness—he feigns a sly, "Who, me?" Both actors handle this demented sparring beautifully.
There is nice direction by Garland in his first Desert Rose production. He is new to Albuquerque after years of directing and designing shows from Maine to Alaska. We're seeing more and more theater pros bringing strong resumes to Albuquerque. I don't know what's drawing them to our city, but they're keeping things lively. Garland certainly does here.
Memoir makes three wins in a row at the Desert Rose by my observation. Rabbit Hole and Proof were both wonderful. Let's hope the word gets out and the seats get filled.
Memoir by John Murrell, directed by Douglas Garland, will run at the Desert Rose Playhouse through December 20, 2015. Performances are on Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00 pm and Sundays at 2:00.
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Review by Rob Spiegel
Sarah Bernhardt had a long career on the stage stretching from the mid-1800s to 1922 when she was 79. Hers was one of the first voices recorded on a gramophone, and she was one of few women who actually played Hamlet.Memoir by John Murrell looks at her last days as she was working on her second autobiography. Her first memoir, "My Double Life" was published in 1907.
The Desert Rose Playhouse offers a new twist on this 1977 play. When the artistic director contacted the playwright to license Memoir, Murrell asked that Desert Rose use his revised script. While the original version of the play has been performed widely in France—where Bernhardt is considered a national treasure—the Desert Rose Playhouse can claim the privilege of presenting the world premier of Murrell's revised version.
Murrell's play depicts Bernhardt reliving the various dramas of her life while her assistant, Georges Pitou, takes notes. In many ways, Memoir resembles a one-person show. This form typically presents an historical character who rehearses dramatic autobiographical material. In the case of Memoir, the character of Bernhardt has a foil in the form of Georges Pitou. The play takes some liberties with fact. Pitou was an actual assistant to Bernhardt, but he was no longer in her employ by 1922.
The Pitou character gives life to the play. He counters Bernhardt's dramatic ramblings with comedic dialog. In order to prompt her failing memory, Bernhardt asks Pitou to play characters from her past, primarily her mother and sister. John Baca-Saavedra's portrayal of the women in Bernhardt's life is laughably funny. He's terrific throughout.
Georgia Athearn as Bernhardt is gloriously effusive in displaying the actress's self-involvement and old-age mental deterioration. Depicted in Murrell's play, Bernhardt is clearly an impossible personality, especially in her dementia. Yet it's also clear she is very likely the greatest actress of her generation. So she's not easily dismissed even in her dotage. Athearn is tireless in delivering Bernhardt in full storm.
Throughout, Pitou teases her, like a kid poking a caged ferret with a stick. When Bernhardt notices his passive aggressive taunts and neglects—which isn't often, given her self-centeredness—he feigns a sly, "Who, me?" Both actors handle this demented sparring beautifully.
There is nice direction by Garland in his first Desert Rose production. He is new to Albuquerque after years of directing and designing shows from Maine to Alaska. We're seeing more and more theater pros bringing strong resumes to Albuquerque. I don't know what's drawing them to our city, but they're keeping things lively. Garland certainly does here.
Memoir makes three wins in a row at the Desert Rose by my observation. Rabbit Hole and Proof were both wonderful. Let's hope the word gets out and the seats get filled.
Memoir by John Murrell, directed by Douglas Garland, will run at the Desert Rose Playhouse through December 20, 2015. Performances are on Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00 pm and Sundays at 2:00.
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'Proof' is a great show, I have enjoyed the depth of the story. The acting is superb and I am impressed with the quality and effort they put into this. Definitely will come back and support. "
--Y. Li
Talkin' Broadway Albuquerque
Strong Production of Proof
Review by Rob Spiegel
The Desert Rose Playhouse offers a solid and intimate production of David Auburn's 2000 play Proof, which won both the Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award in 2001. The drama follows the aftermath of the death of a mathematical genius who had struggled for years with madness. This well-paced, well-deliver production is directed by Shiela Freed.
Proof centers on Catherine (a powerful Ji Ji Hise). On the evening of her 25th birthday, she is sitting on her back porch struggling with the death of her father Robert (a wonderfully crazy Royce Saxon) a few days earlier. She has put off her own life for years while taking care of Robert as he went in and out of madness. She is joined on the porch by Harold Dobbins (a fine Garret Losack), a mathematician and former graduate student of Robert's who has been upstairs going over Robert's papers to see if the brilliant madman has left behind any gems.
Catherine and Robert's conversation vacillates between kindness and conflict. They are clearly attracted to reach other, but Catherine is distrustful of Robert's motives—does he really intend to abscond with hidden work from Robert and use it to feather his own academic nest? This is the issue of the play. Catherine wants proof—proof that Harold is sincere, proof that some of her own mathematical work has value, and proof that Harold will believe her and support her even when all evidence suggests she's lying about her own mathematical postulations.
Most of all she wants proof that the mathematical brilliance she inherited from her father doesn't come with his accompanying madness. This doubt has driven her into a near-paralyzing depression. In the middle of the crisis, Catherine's sister Claire (a roaring Dani Villarreal) bursts onto the scene from New York. Claire is convinced that Catherine's depression has left her incapable of caring for herself, so she's come home for the funeral and to whisk Catherine away to New York where she can get her psychological help. Oh, and besides, she wants to sell the family home despite the fact that Catherine wants to stay put.
Proof is powerful drama. There's no new ground in structure or even tone—to a degree, this is King Lear—but Pulitzer and Tony winners are rarely rewarded for stylistic breakthroughs. Yet it's strong medicine and mostly well crafted. The one glaring flaw is in the role of Claire. While Villarreal delivers a gallant and forceful performance, the character lacks depth. She's selfish and mean. That's it. And loud. There's plenty of room to draw her long-held resentments as valid, but instead, she's just selfish and mean. The fault is with the script, not the director or actor.
The performances are terrific. Saxon is wonderfully mad as Robert in flashbacks, Villarreal well captures Claire's controlling force of nature, and Losack brings a sweet blend of tender and goofy that comes through as well-pitched awkward sincerely. Hise carries the heart of the story with her tough-while-falling-apart portrayal of Catherine. She lovely, impossible and powerful all at once. I wanted to give her a hug.
Freed's directing is solid, even stronger than her recent well-delivered Rabbit Hole (by David Lindsay-Abaire), another Pulitzer Prize winner staged at the Desert Rose. The set was very well crafted by Dagmar Garza. Garza also worked with Freed on scene and light design. Nice job all.
October 2015
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Strong Production of Proof
Review by Rob Spiegel
The Desert Rose Playhouse offers a solid and intimate production of David Auburn's 2000 play Proof, which won both the Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award in 2001. The drama follows the aftermath of the death of a mathematical genius who had struggled for years with madness. This well-paced, well-deliver production is directed by Shiela Freed.
Proof centers on Catherine (a powerful Ji Ji Hise). On the evening of her 25th birthday, she is sitting on her back porch struggling with the death of her father Robert (a wonderfully crazy Royce Saxon) a few days earlier. She has put off her own life for years while taking care of Robert as he went in and out of madness. She is joined on the porch by Harold Dobbins (a fine Garret Losack), a mathematician and former graduate student of Robert's who has been upstairs going over Robert's papers to see if the brilliant madman has left behind any gems.
Catherine and Robert's conversation vacillates between kindness and conflict. They are clearly attracted to reach other, but Catherine is distrustful of Robert's motives—does he really intend to abscond with hidden work from Robert and use it to feather his own academic nest? This is the issue of the play. Catherine wants proof—proof that Harold is sincere, proof that some of her own mathematical work has value, and proof that Harold will believe her and support her even when all evidence suggests she's lying about her own mathematical postulations.
Most of all she wants proof that the mathematical brilliance she inherited from her father doesn't come with his accompanying madness. This doubt has driven her into a near-paralyzing depression. In the middle of the crisis, Catherine's sister Claire (a roaring Dani Villarreal) bursts onto the scene from New York. Claire is convinced that Catherine's depression has left her incapable of caring for herself, so she's come home for the funeral and to whisk Catherine away to New York where she can get her psychological help. Oh, and besides, she wants to sell the family home despite the fact that Catherine wants to stay put.
Proof is powerful drama. There's no new ground in structure or even tone—to a degree, this is King Lear—but Pulitzer and Tony winners are rarely rewarded for stylistic breakthroughs. Yet it's strong medicine and mostly well crafted. The one glaring flaw is in the role of Claire. While Villarreal delivers a gallant and forceful performance, the character lacks depth. She's selfish and mean. That's it. And loud. There's plenty of room to draw her long-held resentments as valid, but instead, she's just selfish and mean. The fault is with the script, not the director or actor.
The performances are terrific. Saxon is wonderfully mad as Robert in flashbacks, Villarreal well captures Claire's controlling force of nature, and Losack brings a sweet blend of tender and goofy that comes through as well-pitched awkward sincerely. Hise carries the heart of the story with her tough-while-falling-apart portrayal of Catherine. She lovely, impossible and powerful all at once. I wanted to give her a hug.
Freed's directing is solid, even stronger than her recent well-delivered Rabbit Hole (by David Lindsay-Abaire), another Pulitzer Prize winner staged at the Desert Rose. The set was very well crafted by Dagmar Garza. Garza also worked with Freed on scene and light design. Nice job all.
October 2015
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Talkin' Broadway Albuquerque
"Rabbit Hole" Wrestles with the Weight of Grief
review by Rob Spiegel
Rabbit Hole by David Lindsay-Abaire is not a difficult play, but it deals honestly with a difficult subject, the loss of a young child. The death affects the extended family in the play, but the parents take the tragedy personally, both seeming to resent the pain of their family members as not significantly devastating, nothing compared with a parent's suffering. They are almost arrogant with their pain.
Grief is personal, and Lindsay-Abaire examines the trapdoors that undermine both parents as they try to get through each dark day. Grief becomes the central identity as they struggle for emotional air. And there is no air for Becca and Howie. Most sadly, their grieving is out of sync with each other. Instead of comforting one another, they grind against each other, driving the pain deeper and leaving each other raw.
They try hard not to blame each other—the child was killed when he ran into the street after his dog—but they can't help second guessing their own behavior. And no comfort comes from the other. The drama is honest. We get to see the unpleasant underbelly of each of these bleeding characters. Every time someone reaches out to either one of them—Becca's mom and sister, the hapless driver who hit the boy—their compassion is rebuffed and criticized. The scattered jokes in the script bring little relief from the gloom.
Even so, it's riveting. The question that keeps us interested is, how are these two people going to manage to get through? Or are they going to get through?
Rabbit Hole arrived with a bundle of awards. Cynthia Nixon won a 2006 Tony Award for her performance as Becca in the New York production, and the next year, Rabbit Hole won the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for Drama.
The production at the Desert Rose Playhouse directed by Shiela Freed is uneven, partly because two of the five actors are new to the production and, at the performance I attended, were reading from books. This problem will likely be corrected by the second weekend. Also, there were a few lighting glitches, such as a time gap between when a character hit a light switch and when the light actually came on or went off.
Avery Scott as Becca was stiff early on. Becca is a stiff character, but it seemed her performance that was slightly offbeat during the first act. Scott warmed up as the play proceeded, and her scene later in the play with Jason (Garrett Losack) was pitch perfect.
Bryan Durden as Howie seemed to struggle to get the right balance between intense anger and his generally easygoing demeanor. Veteran actor Linda Sklov was wonderful as Becca's mother Nat, and Losack did a nice job with Jason, the awkward teenage driver who accidentally killed the child. Maymie Mitchell as Becca's sister was great. She was a late arrival to the production, so she carried a script, yet she was amazingly believable as the kid sister who always felt overshadowed by the ultra-competent Becca. Her performance was surprisingly convincing given the spell-breaking circumstance of a script in hand.
The Desert Rose Playhouse production of Rabbit Hole will likely sharpen up over its four-week run. The elements are in place: great set, powerful story, strong side actors, a beautiful set of songs played quietly in the distance. The key will be whether Scott as Becca and Durden as Herbie are able to inhabit the range of emotions convincingly. If so, they can begin to play off each other and create the sparks that are inherent in this fiery story.
May 2015
Talkin' Broadway Albuquerque
Regional Reviews
by Dean Yannias
Beautiful Thing
Here's a charming little play with some wonderful performances that is flying almost totally under the radar of Albuquerque audiences. It deserves much more of a house than the few who showed up at the Sunday matinee I attended. The Desert Rose only seats about 40; it should be filled.
Beautiful Thing came out in 1993 in London and has been popular in the UK ever since. This is almost certainly the first production in New Mexico, and I wonder why it took so long for us to see it. Thanks to Shiela Freed, who directed, and Michael Montroy for finding it.
Johnathan Harvey was in his early twenties when he wrote this play, but for the most part, it has very little of the novice about it. It's one of those teenage-boys-falling-in-love stories (a la My Beautiful Laundrette of 1985), but it never seems derivative. One of the characters is obsessed with the songs of Mama Cass Elliot, both from The Mamas and The Papas and from her solo career, and those songs are an integral part of the play. I was reminded of the use of ABBA songs in Muriel's Wedding, and was relieved to learn that that movie came out in 1994, one year after this play. (Cass Elliot died in London in 1974 at age 32, as a result of undiagnosed heart disease, after two weeks of sold-out concerts at the London Palladium, so she might have been a bigger star there than here.)
The setting is a council estate, which is the UK equivalent of public housing: cramped row houses with thin walls and, it seems, shared toilets. Most of the action takes place just outside of three neighboring homes: one occupied by 17-year-old Jamie and his mother Sandra, a barmaid, who is visited at times by her current boyfriend Tony; one by Ste (short for Steve), an athletic teen who lives with his abusive father and older brother; and one by Leah, who has been kicked out of school and hangs around singing Mama Cass songs. The other setting is Jamie's bedroom, where Ste sometimes has to stay after having been beaten up at home. Things happen.
This is an England of broken families, of just scraping by, of limited futures, but the characters remain undefeated by their circumstances. It's a heartwarming play. It falls apart in the last 15 minutes, when there is an unnecessary scene of Leah having some sort of hallucinogenic trip, but up to that point, it generated such good will on my part that I was willing to forgive this dramaturgical mistake.
Even if the subject matter doesn't sound appealing to you, this show should be seen for the truly terrific performance of Bryan Durden as Jamie. Wow, is he good. He doesn't play Jamie effeminately, and at first the only clues that he's gay are his unwillingness to play football (soccer), which is enough to get him bullied at school, and knowing that it was Eleanor Parker who played the Baroness in The Sound of Music. (Stereotyping, or a nicely observed touch by Mr. Harvey? I think the latter.) When Jamie cries, Bryan cries real tears. It's one of the best performances I've seen by a young actor. (I hope I'm not putting it into his head that he's too good for New Mexico.)
Margie Maes is very convincing as Sandra, a woman who likes her fun and, despite appearances, is a loving mother. Christopher Chase does another of his wonderful characterizations as Tony; any time Christopher does a British play, I totally forget that he's American. (No one is credited as costume designer, so I don't know whose idea it was to have Tony appear in one scene in a woman's see-through negligee, but I don't understand why they made that choice.)
Dani Villareal is a force of nature as Leah. Plus-size plus, she is perfectly cast as someone who would idolize Mama Cass. Dani gets to sing most of the songs, and does a fine job with them. Garrett Losack as Ste is good, but he doesn't have the stage experience yet to shine compared to the other four cast members. Shiela Freed has assembled an excellent cast, handled the scene transitions well, and coaxed believable lower-class English accents from all of her actors.
The set is cleverly designed and painted by Shiela Freed, Michael Montroy, Dagmar Garza, Mikaela Montroy, Jeannie Emery, and Bryan Durden. Good lighting and sound is provided by Dagmar Garza, Chris Love, and Avery Scott. The Desert Rose is a seat-of-your-pants kind of place, literally a storefront theater, and I really appreciate the fact that here are people putting on a play just for the love of theater. If you're anything like me, you'll be singing "Dream a Little Dream of Me" to yourself for days after seeing this play.
Beautiful Thing, a play by Johnathan Harvey, directed by Shiela Freed, is being presented at The Desert Rose Playhouse on Montgomery just west of Louisiana in Albuquerque. Through March 15, 2015.
Regional Reviews
by Dean Yannias
Beautiful Thing
Here's a charming little play with some wonderful performances that is flying almost totally under the radar of Albuquerque audiences. It deserves much more of a house than the few who showed up at the Sunday matinee I attended. The Desert Rose only seats about 40; it should be filled.
Beautiful Thing came out in 1993 in London and has been popular in the UK ever since. This is almost certainly the first production in New Mexico, and I wonder why it took so long for us to see it. Thanks to Shiela Freed, who directed, and Michael Montroy for finding it.
Johnathan Harvey was in his early twenties when he wrote this play, but for the most part, it has very little of the novice about it. It's one of those teenage-boys-falling-in-love stories (a la My Beautiful Laundrette of 1985), but it never seems derivative. One of the characters is obsessed with the songs of Mama Cass Elliot, both from The Mamas and The Papas and from her solo career, and those songs are an integral part of the play. I was reminded of the use of ABBA songs in Muriel's Wedding, and was relieved to learn that that movie came out in 1994, one year after this play. (Cass Elliot died in London in 1974 at age 32, as a result of undiagnosed heart disease, after two weeks of sold-out concerts at the London Palladium, so she might have been a bigger star there than here.)
The setting is a council estate, which is the UK equivalent of public housing: cramped row houses with thin walls and, it seems, shared toilets. Most of the action takes place just outside of three neighboring homes: one occupied by 17-year-old Jamie and his mother Sandra, a barmaid, who is visited at times by her current boyfriend Tony; one by Ste (short for Steve), an athletic teen who lives with his abusive father and older brother; and one by Leah, who has been kicked out of school and hangs around singing Mama Cass songs. The other setting is Jamie's bedroom, where Ste sometimes has to stay after having been beaten up at home. Things happen.
This is an England of broken families, of just scraping by, of limited futures, but the characters remain undefeated by their circumstances. It's a heartwarming play. It falls apart in the last 15 minutes, when there is an unnecessary scene of Leah having some sort of hallucinogenic trip, but up to that point, it generated such good will on my part that I was willing to forgive this dramaturgical mistake.
Even if the subject matter doesn't sound appealing to you, this show should be seen for the truly terrific performance of Bryan Durden as Jamie. Wow, is he good. He doesn't play Jamie effeminately, and at first the only clues that he's gay are his unwillingness to play football (soccer), which is enough to get him bullied at school, and knowing that it was Eleanor Parker who played the Baroness in The Sound of Music. (Stereotyping, or a nicely observed touch by Mr. Harvey? I think the latter.) When Jamie cries, Bryan cries real tears. It's one of the best performances I've seen by a young actor. (I hope I'm not putting it into his head that he's too good for New Mexico.)
Margie Maes is very convincing as Sandra, a woman who likes her fun and, despite appearances, is a loving mother. Christopher Chase does another of his wonderful characterizations as Tony; any time Christopher does a British play, I totally forget that he's American. (No one is credited as costume designer, so I don't know whose idea it was to have Tony appear in one scene in a woman's see-through negligee, but I don't understand why they made that choice.)
Dani Villareal is a force of nature as Leah. Plus-size plus, she is perfectly cast as someone who would idolize Mama Cass. Dani gets to sing most of the songs, and does a fine job with them. Garrett Losack as Ste is good, but he doesn't have the stage experience yet to shine compared to the other four cast members. Shiela Freed has assembled an excellent cast, handled the scene transitions well, and coaxed believable lower-class English accents from all of her actors.
The set is cleverly designed and painted by Shiela Freed, Michael Montroy, Dagmar Garza, Mikaela Montroy, Jeannie Emery, and Bryan Durden. Good lighting and sound is provided by Dagmar Garza, Chris Love, and Avery Scott. The Desert Rose is a seat-of-your-pants kind of place, literally a storefront theater, and I really appreciate the fact that here are people putting on a play just for the love of theater. If you're anything like me, you'll be singing "Dream a Little Dream of Me" to yourself for days after seeing this play.
Beautiful Thing, a play by Johnathan Harvey, directed by Shiela Freed, is being presented at The Desert Rose Playhouse on Montgomery just west of Louisiana in Albuquerque. Through March 15, 2015.
Talkin' Broadway Albuquerque
Regional Reviews
One Man, Two Guvnors
Review by Dean Yannias
I hate to sound all Forrest Gump-y, but you never know what you're going to get when you walk into a storefront theater. It could be pretentious dreck, or well-intentioned but embarrassing amateurism, or a hilarious little diamond-in-the-rough. The latter is exactly what I walked into at the Desert Rose Playhouse (which is literally a storefront theater, in a seen-better-days mini strip mall).
One Man, Two Guvnors is a 2011 farce by English writer Richard Bean. It's Carlo Goldoni's 1743 The Servant of Two Masters as channeled through Joe Orton, but I think it's even funnier than Orton. The play is set in 1963 Brighton, which was the UK's equivalent of 1963 Atlantic City, and the characters are mostly small-time criminals. The plot has to do with a homosexual (they didn't use "gay" much back then) gangster who's been whacked and is now being impersonated by his "identical" twin sister.
But nobody cares about the plot. It's just the scaffolding for a manic run of gags and physical comedy and song and dance and a little audience participation. The first few minutes, I thought we were in for a rough ride because the timing seemed way off, like an early rehearsal. But then everything jelled and the actors were so full of energy and joie de jouer (I think I just made that up: the joy of performing) that it turned out to be one of the best times I've had at a show all year.
Except for the amazing Christopher Chase, everybody in the cast was new to me—new blood, which is one of the reasons we go to live theater. There are some real finds here: Joshua Caleb Horton, Dianna Maynard, Avery Scott, Dani Villareal-Turos and Taylor Cross. The one-named Casca does the most fantastic falls for a 66-year-old.
The cast is rounded out by Billy Mallard, Keiten Johnson and Taylor Pomeroy, all of whom are good, too. Peter Cornelius, though, shows that it takes a good actor to play a bad actor, and he isn't quite good enough yet to be bad. The music, some original songs from the play and some early '60s Beatles tunes, is ably provided by a band of just two: Dean Clark on guitar and vocals, and Nelson Wirstrom on drums.
Christopher Chase, who plays the lackey of two guvnors (employers), is one of Albuquerque's little-known treasures. I've seen him play "English" so convincingly in Arcadia and Frost/Nixon that I was shocked when I heard his natural American accent. I didn't expect him to have the chops for verbal comedy, much less physical comedy, but did he ever prove me wrong. When it comes to stuttering hesitations, he out-Hugh-Grants Hugh Grant. Add in silly walks and pratfalls and spit takes and ad libs, and I was in awe.
For a small space and almost no budget, the set that has to accommodate six different scenes (including the waterfront) is innovatively and impressively designed by Michael Montroy, Shiela Freed and Karin Pitman. I give Michael Montroy, who directed, a lot of credit for bringing this play to Albuquerque, assembling this cast, and making the action move as quickly as it does.
The one thing a show like this needs that the theater itself can't provide is an audience that's into it. Not much is more depressing than people knocking themselves out for a comatose audience. So if you're in the mood for farce, I encourage you to go. Fill the theater, which only holds about 40 people. And laugh. Out loud. (Sam Roll, where are you?)
One Man, Two Guvnors, a comedy by Richard Bean, is being performed at the Desert Rose Playhouse through July 20, 2014.
Regional Reviews
One Man, Two Guvnors
Review by Dean Yannias
I hate to sound all Forrest Gump-y, but you never know what you're going to get when you walk into a storefront theater. It could be pretentious dreck, or well-intentioned but embarrassing amateurism, or a hilarious little diamond-in-the-rough. The latter is exactly what I walked into at the Desert Rose Playhouse (which is literally a storefront theater, in a seen-better-days mini strip mall).
One Man, Two Guvnors is a 2011 farce by English writer Richard Bean. It's Carlo Goldoni's 1743 The Servant of Two Masters as channeled through Joe Orton, but I think it's even funnier than Orton. The play is set in 1963 Brighton, which was the UK's equivalent of 1963 Atlantic City, and the characters are mostly small-time criminals. The plot has to do with a homosexual (they didn't use "gay" much back then) gangster who's been whacked and is now being impersonated by his "identical" twin sister.
But nobody cares about the plot. It's just the scaffolding for a manic run of gags and physical comedy and song and dance and a little audience participation. The first few minutes, I thought we were in for a rough ride because the timing seemed way off, like an early rehearsal. But then everything jelled and the actors were so full of energy and joie de jouer (I think I just made that up: the joy of performing) that it turned out to be one of the best times I've had at a show all year.
Except for the amazing Christopher Chase, everybody in the cast was new to me—new blood, which is one of the reasons we go to live theater. There are some real finds here: Joshua Caleb Horton, Dianna Maynard, Avery Scott, Dani Villareal-Turos and Taylor Cross. The one-named Casca does the most fantastic falls for a 66-year-old.
The cast is rounded out by Billy Mallard, Keiten Johnson and Taylor Pomeroy, all of whom are good, too. Peter Cornelius, though, shows that it takes a good actor to play a bad actor, and he isn't quite good enough yet to be bad. The music, some original songs from the play and some early '60s Beatles tunes, is ably provided by a band of just two: Dean Clark on guitar and vocals, and Nelson Wirstrom on drums.
Christopher Chase, who plays the lackey of two guvnors (employers), is one of Albuquerque's little-known treasures. I've seen him play "English" so convincingly in Arcadia and Frost/Nixon that I was shocked when I heard his natural American accent. I didn't expect him to have the chops for verbal comedy, much less physical comedy, but did he ever prove me wrong. When it comes to stuttering hesitations, he out-Hugh-Grants Hugh Grant. Add in silly walks and pratfalls and spit takes and ad libs, and I was in awe.
For a small space and almost no budget, the set that has to accommodate six different scenes (including the waterfront) is innovatively and impressively designed by Michael Montroy, Shiela Freed and Karin Pitman. I give Michael Montroy, who directed, a lot of credit for bringing this play to Albuquerque, assembling this cast, and making the action move as quickly as it does.
The one thing a show like this needs that the theater itself can't provide is an audience that's into it. Not much is more depressing than people knocking themselves out for a comatose audience. So if you're in the mood for farce, I encourage you to go. Fill the theater, which only holds about 40 people. And laugh. Out loud. (Sam Roll, where are you?)
One Man, Two Guvnors, a comedy by Richard Bean, is being performed at the Desert Rose Playhouse through July 20, 2014.