AMBITIOUS CHESS CHALLENGED BY VENUE
AT GENERIC THEATER

Theater Babe says:  Go … and enjoy the game.

There is a prodigious amount of talent involved in the Generic Theater’s Chess, beginning with director, Shon M. Stacy, through and including the 10 other members of the production team, 20 instrumentalists, and 34 singers whose collaboration brings this show to life. The theater itself, however, is very small, and although every bit of the available space has been utilized, the forum itself presents certain challenges that had not yet been overcome by the time the Theater Babe saw the show during its opening weekend.

Chess is a show with little spoken dialogue, relying on the lyrics by Tim Rice and Bjorn Ulvaeus and music by Benny Anderson and Bjorn Ulvaeus (yes, of ABBA fame) to convey the story of two chess masters, one American and one Russian, and the woman who is involved with both of them.  Set during the Cold War, the story intertwines the machinations of geopolitics and a two dimensional love triangle – the Russian is married – with the strategic game itself.

That’s a lot to take in, and this gifted vocal cast directed by Karla D. Robinson has a beautiful tone and demonstrates exemplary diction when enunciating the complex and often rapid-fire lyrics that tell the tale. The comparatively large orchestra embraces the lush, multi-national themed, difficult score.

The problem here is that the combination of the two sets of musicians is not altogether successful; too often, the orchestra overpowers the singers.  While some community theater productions struggle with particular instruments standing out, here the orchestra itself is well-balanced, but, as a whole, it overshadows the vocals.  The singers’ microphones have been set very high, obviously in an effort to combat the instrumentals which are, due to the size restraints of the theater, mere inches from the stage floor.  The result is that the audience is bombarded with music, similar to what you might experience in the middle of a crowded nightclub.  That generates a certain energy, but even exquisitely clear diction is no match for the acoustical challenges presented here, so anyone unacquainted with the plot drowns in a bewildering, unrelenting wave of sound.  Even as one familiar with a lot of the score, but not the London stage version of the book presented here, the Babe fought to comprehend critical plot points.  Because the intrigue set up in “The Soviet Machine,” “The Interview,” “Talking Chess,” and, especially, “The Deal” was largely unintelligible, the full dramatic import of the “Endgame” is lost.  We do not grasp the precise details of the maneuvering occurring during the former, so while we see the characters’ passion as the story reaches its climax during the latter, we do not feel it because we lack vital context.

That’s a missed opportunity which the Babe hopes can be rectified in the remaining weeks of the run, because there are some exceptional performances here that deserve to be appreciated more fully than is possible when the lyrics are so obscured.

As Anatoly Sergievsky, Jonathan McCormick uses his rich, smooth singing voice to create a complex character who is both compelling and credibly flawed.  The pace of this book moves quickly, and it would be easy for Anatoly’s relationship with Florence to be no more than a contrived plot device.  Instead, in this production, Mr. McCormick’s intonation, together with his subtle sidelong glances, body positioning, and facial expressions convince us that Anatoly has met the right woman at the worst possible time, and his inner turmoil is palpable.  Mr. McCormick’s vocals are uniformly first rate, and in a score rife with big power ballads, his “Anthem” is a standout moment.

Michael Lee Ashby’s Frederick Trumper, Anatoly’s American opponent, is an excellent foil for the more introspective Russian.  Freddie is brash and often rude, but Mr. Ashby’s skillful portrayal prevents the character from being merely obnoxious.  Mr. Ashby brings great energy and charisma to the role, and we believe that his Freddie would, through the sheer force of his personality, parlay his proficiency in a relatively dull spectator sport into fame and fortune.  Especially, but not only, in the poignant “Pity the Child,” Mr. Ashby confidently scales the stratospheric notes inherent in this challenging role, with impressive results.

As Florence Vassy, the chess strategist caught between the two players, Angelica Michelle is fierce and fiery.  The score showcases her powerful, melodic belt, and her intensity and passion are incredibly compelling.  Ms. Michelle’s Florence is almost unfailingly strong, consistent with a woman of the period demanding and attaining a role in a profession dominated by men, so her infrequent moments of vulnerability are all the more moving for their scarcity.  Although the Babe wished that Ms. Michelle would stay in the center of the spotlight as she traveled the perimeter of the stage during “Heaven Help My Heart” so that we could better enjoy the totality of her performance, her electrifying delivery of “Nobody’s Side” is extraordinary, and arguably the best moment in the show.

Svetlana Sergievsky is played with endearing pathos by Tara Moscopulos, but in Ms. Moscopulos’ interpretation, Anatoly’s long-suffering wife is no doormat.  Ms. Moscopulos credibly conveys Svetlana’s complicated emotions, ranging from genuine concern about her estranged husband’s well-being to her fury that he has abandoned her and their children to the vagaries of the Soviet state.  Her “Someone Else’s Story” is captivating, and the Babe appreciated its blocking which afforded Svetlana a unique entry point to the stage, highlighting the moment’s piquancy in an understated way.  The Babe only wishes that Ms. Moscopulos would take more advantage of the theater’s intimacy; because she has a tendency to sing to where the balcony might be found in a larger arena, we see more of her neck than her expressive face, and are denied the chance to connect more readily with her character.

Jim Dwyer’s Alexander Molokov is delightfully menacing and manipulative, and his authoritative presence, consistent Russian accent, and rich, deep voice all successfully convey the Soviet threat.  The Babe just suggests that perhaps Mr. Dwyer might be more mindful of the sight lines present in a three-sided stage.  By standing close to and squarely facing the orchestra as he did frequently during the performance the Babe attended, he cut himself off from virtually all of the audience.  While that can be effective when used sparingly, here it was a recurrent issue which diluted any intended impact, and abetted our inability to understand the parts of the plot carried by Molokov’s lyrics. 

The wardrobe, designed by Katelyn Jackson, assisted by Chelsie Cartledge-Rose, effectively juxtapose the black and white of a chessboard.  A couple of the costumes are not flattering on the individuals to whom they are assigned, however, and it’s noticeable because, in general, the costuming works well.  The Babe is on the fence about the decision to have the instrumentalists maintain the white and black theme.  Although she understands the quest for consistency, given the orchestra’s proximity to the actors, the large areas of white behind the stage reflect the light and direct attention away from the on-stage action.  The Babe wonders whether perhaps dressing the instrumentalists in traditional orchestral black with white accents might be a less distracting choice.  Similarly, because the music director is almost standing on stage in the tight quarters of this venue, her effusive conducting style often captures our attention, diverting it from the stage and adding to the difficulty we have in becoming enveloped in the drama.

The scenic design is limited to a slightly raised stage painted as a chessboard, a few chairs, and a podium at which the games are played but is rolled out of the way when not central to the plot.  The show is well blocked, and the live chess match that starts the show is particularly creative.  So if the limited options presented by the spartan set result in occasional duplicative staging, that is more than offset by the brisk pace it promotes by giving this large cast sufficient space to move about without seeming crowded, and providing easy access to the performance area via multiple different entrances. 

The Theater Babe has had the pleasure of seeing several other shows directed by Mr. Stacy, including Assassins (Generic), Parade (LTVB), and The Full Monty (LTN).  Each of his productions has a comprehensive polish and style that distinguish his efforts and mark him as one of the premiere directors in this region.  And even with the challenges displayed during the opening weekend, Chess is no exception to Mr. Stacy’s accomplished track record. 

Bottom line?  Despite the beautiful tone and precise diction of the vocalists, the overwhelming dominance of the harmonious orchestra was a big obstacle to our ability to comprehend the action and become emotionally vested in the piece.  But the Babe believes this production is better than the single performance she saw, and when the sound imbalance is corrected, the Babe is confident that the good show she experienced will become exceptional -- and well worth the time and ticket price.

Performances run through July 21st, Thursday - Saturday at 8 p.m.

and Sunday at 2:30 p.m. at The Generic Theater

215 St. Paul's Boulevard, Norfolk, Virginia 23510.

Tickets are $18 for adults, with discounts for students, seniors, 

and active duty miltary, and can be obtained online at http://www.generictheater.org 

or by calling the box office at (757) 441-2160.

© 2019  Hampton Roads Theater Babe.  All Rights Reserved.

PCT PRESENTS IMPERFECT BUT POPULAR 

MY FAIR LADY

Theater Babe says: Go … and Enjoy a Timeless Classic

Peninsula Community Theatre opens its 25^th Anniversary season with My Fair Lady, and the show’s witty dialogue and hummable melodies demonstrate why it is considered a classic. There are shining moments in this production, directed by Marty Bussert, and though certain performances disappoint, the richness of the material itself and the sincere efforts of the cast prevail, resulting in an enjoyable evening of theatre.

Set in London during the Edwardian era of the early 20^th century when the divide between the upper and lower economic classes was nearly insurmountable, My Fair Lady depicts the efforts of Eliza Doolittle to improve her life by improving her speech. A Cockney flower girl, Eliza meets Professor Henry Higgins, an acclaimed and arrogant academic who specializes in phonetics, in a chance encounter. When Eliza seeks lessons from him so she can “talk more genteel” and attain employment in a flower shop instead of peddling on the street, Higgins accepts the impulsive bet proposed by his friend and colleague Colonel Pickering to prepare Eliza to attend the Embassy Ball and seamlessly hobnob with society’s elite. The show follows Eliza’s transformation.

Chelsea Mayer is a delightful Eliza Doolittle, alternately determined, passionate and pensive as the character progresses. In the early scenes, Ms. Mayer’s Eliza is perhaps a bit more pristine than we might imagine an impoverished flower girl of the period would be, but the same could be said of all the Cockney crowd -- this is a fastidiously tidy group of street people; none of their costumes show any dirt, patches, tears, or even missing buttons that would be more believable. Ms. Mayer masters the daunting challenge of speaking distinctly in two distinguishable different dialects, and the scene in which her newly-learned crisp speech patterns lapse into the Cockney vernacular because of her emotional turmoil is impressive, credible, and touching. Ms. Mayer has a lovely singing voice, and the skillful phrasing and varying emphasis in her vocals demonstrate Eliza’s wistfulness (Wouldn’t It Be Loverly?), fury (Just You Wait), frustration (Show Me), and determined independence (Without You). Because of Ms. Mayer’s accomplished performance, we understand Eliza and root for her to succeed.

In the best productions of this piece, we see an evolution in both of the central characters. Unlike Eliza’s blatant alterations of accent, dress, and deportment, the script nonetheless provides less obvious opportunities for Professor Higgins to demonstrate a meaningful deepening of his superficial, supercilious nature. Here, Stephen Maney fails to capitalize on those opportunities, so Eliza’s ultimate decision seems driven by her lack of options rather than the appeal of Higgins’ metamorphosis, and the central story line is neither as nuanced nor as interesting as it might be.

Mr. Maney, who delivered an appealing and believably quirky Uncle Fester in Smithfield Little Theatre’s Addams Family a while back, seems uncomfortable in this demanding role. His portrayal of Professor Higgins is noticeably referential to that of the iconic Rex Harrison who originated the part, and throughout the show it appears that Mr. Maney merely recites his lines and emulates intonation rather than embracing the character and making it his own. We see the actor, not the character, especially but not only when he drops lines and lyrics. Mr. Maney’s Higgins is not in the moment, and his actions and reactions are awkwardly stilted as if generated by careful calculation rather than genuine emotion. Because Higgins drives nearly all of the action in the show, that omission prevents this production from becoming truly credible. Mr. Maney does, however, maintain a consistent British accent, and his diction is laudably clear, even during the challenging, rapid lyrics of “I’m an Ordinary Man,” and “A Hymn to Him.”

Brink Miller’s Colonel Pickering is properly distinguished and unflappable. As written, the character is most often a foil for Professor Higgins, but Mr. Miller makes the most of the moments when Pickering has more latitude without overplaying them, and his indignation directed to the unseen police officer creates one of the funniest moments of the show. Andrew Schwalm is believably besotted as Eliza’s swain, Freddie Eynesford-Hill, though the Babe wishes he would knock on the door of 27A Wimpole Street before it is answered. Mr. Schwalm’s beautiful voice is well displayed in the memorable “On the Street Where You Live.” It’s just a pleasure to hear him sing.

The vocals, marshaled by Music Director Betsy Forrest and Assistant Music Director Rachel Bradley, are a highlight in this production. The ensemble has a rich tone, and although the top sopranos need to be more cognizant of their tendency to overpower the end of “Get Me to the Church on Time,” in general the chorus is well balanced and has excellent diction. Particularly noteworthy are the Cockney quartet, Jacob Bagoly, Matthew Bradley, Joshua Higgins, Colin Williams, and Arianna Jeanette Hall and Georgia Hester, the two uncredited maids who sing the counterpoint to Eliza’s “I Could Have Danced All Night.”

Bonnie Carlson is credibly managing as Mrs. Pearce, and her deadpan reaction to the professor’s rant during “A Hymn to Him” is perfectly played and deserving of the huge laugh it received from the appreciative audience. As Alfred P. Doolittle, Eliza’s father, Trey Gwaltney is a likable rapscallion who almost convinces us of the injustice of “middle class morality,” though his lines would benefit from a bit more volume. The Babe only wishes that Mr. Gwaltney’s makeup was better defined; under the lights, he appears washed out, and that detracts from his entertaining performance.

The set designed by Jeffrey Corriveau is well-dressed and the professor’s library is a convincing depiction of a wealthy scholar’s home of the period. The furniture, while striking, is large, and it is under-utilized by Mr. Bussert’s blocking. All too often, Eliza, Higgins and Pickering just stand in a straight line, down center, exchanging their dialogue. Similarly, the peril presented by Zoltan Karpathy (Worsham Abbott) is muted in this production, because the blocking sticks him over to one side, rendering him immaterial for most of the ball. Karpathy, as well as many members of the ensemble, would benefit from additional direction regarding the need to create mute stage business during crowd scenes to create a more realistic environment.

The costumes, designed by Pam Revill and Jan Clapp Bomar, generally evoke the period, but are often problematic. The maids in Higgins’ household are all in black dresses, but they are mismatched and of different lengths. While each wears a white apron, one ensemble member is inexplicably and noticeably clad in a butcher’s apron instead of a period-appropriate maidservant’s pinafore. The white and black color scheme attempted for the Ascot race is glaringly marred because an ensemble member wears what is probably a cream colored gown which reads yellow under the lights. Most concerningly, much of Eliza’s wardrobe is ill-fitting and works against, rather than enhancing, Ms. Mayer’s strong performance.

Bottom line? This production has some decided flaws which prevent it from reaching the full potential of the piece, but it hits enough of the marks to please an audience that is enchanted to see a traditional classic in the season line-up, and is worth the time and the ticket price.

Performances run through August 18th, Friday & Saturday at 7:30 p.m. and Sunday at 2:30 p.m.

at Peninsula Community Theatre

10251 Warwick Boulevard, Newport News, VA 23601

Tickets are $20 for adults, with discounts for youth, students, seniors and military,

and can be obtained online at: http://www.pctlive.org.

 © 2018  Hampton Roads Theater Babe.  All Rights Reserved.

DISTRACTIONS ABOUND IN LTN’S DISJOINTED

JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR

 

Theater Babe Says:  Go . . . and show your support for a community theatre’s willingness to tackle a challenging work of art.

Jesus Christ Superstar is a big show -- big themes, big music, big cast.  The Little Theatre of Norfolk’s current production is ambitious, but because the vision for this production is not presented as clearly as it might have been and because it appears there may have been difficulties in the turn out for auditions, despite the earnest efforts of the hard-working cast, instrumentalists and production team, the end result is not as successful as one might wish.

Jesus Christ Superstar is an anachronistic telling of the last few days of Christ’s ministry; key points in the plot track those in a traditional Passion play, but it is a rock-opera, complete with electric guitar riffs and 20^th century music and rhythms.  While the tale is typically told through the eyes of a true believer, Superstar’s protagonist is Judas, the disciple who betrayed Jesus, and the show emphasizes the political threat that Jesus Christ posed to the authorities – both to the local high priests, and to their Roman conquerors.

Overall, this production assumes that the audience is thoroughly familiar with the story – we are expected to know, for example, that Mary Magdalene is a reformed prostitute although she is presented here as simply a pretty woman with an affinity for black leather.  But it also pushes back against what we are presumed to know without explanation, most notably but not only when a guard gives Judas an oversized brown paper lunch bag holding a revolver.  Those of us conversant with the tale know that Judas hanged himself, so when this Judas uses the gun to commit suicide we are distracted, wondering why the instrumentality of his demise was changed and what was meant to be conveyed by having the guard provide the means to his end.  This production repeatedly raises other, similar questions regarding the directorial intent but does not answer them explicitly enough for at least the Theater Babe to understand the choices that were made.  As a result, the production feels disjointed and the constant intellectual curiosity that is piqued by those unusual decisions disrupts the emotional intensity that this momentous work should create.

Director David B. Springstead, Sr. chose to set this production in the present day to emphasize the commonality between the themes faced both now and during the time of Christ.  But the commitment to placing the action in the present is not absolute, and the choices that evoke the earlier era repeatedly distract us from the underlying story.  For example, during the Last Supper – depicted here as a picnic – the apostles pass around leather wine skins.  It may be just the company the Theater Babe keeps, but at least among the Babe’s associates it is more common to use plastic glasses at an outdoor event.  So while the skins used here are picturesque, they are anomalous to the time period portrayed and momentarily divert us from the action onstage.  Similarly, during “The Temple” when Christ is besieged by people wanting to be healed, the sick completely and incomprehensibly cover their faces and heads with white cloth.  It was only upon reviewing the program at intermission that the Babe realized that they were portraying lepers . . . in the Biblical sense, not in the 21^st century treatment of leprosy (now known as Hansen’s disease which is typically cured with antibiotics).  Those kinds of details are minor, but they detract from the credibility of the production and distract us when we should be riveted by a story so powerful it has survived for thousands of years.

Additionally, the translation of some of the characters and events into a modern setting are imperfect.  The purpose of portraying King Herod as Donald Trump eluded the Babe; she hopes that she missed the point, and that it was more than a choice made only to elicit a quick laugh or just to mock the monarchial aspirations of the president.  Starting the show with men in black suits (whom we only later realize are the high priests) crowning Trump was an unusual choice which squandered the opportunity to let the overture set the mood for the piece.  Instead of becoming enveloped in the distinctive electric guitar and bass licks – well-executed by Adam Cutchin, David Springstead, Jr. and James McCandlish – we relegate the music to the background as we stare at the stage, wondering why Trump is being parodied in a work about Jesus Christ.  The rambunctious crowd that subsequently gathers in an obvious spoof of the well-publicized Trump campaign rallies further leaves us searching for the nexus between the action we see and the story we know is about to be told, and the lack of connection is confusing and prevents us from vesting in either the retelling of the Passion, or in the political commentary that is meant to be conveyed.

Similarly, decisions regarding the characterization of Pilate and the Roman guard undermine the strength and influence intended by the roles.  The historical Pontius Pilate was the Roman prefect who commanded the geographical area in which Jesus preached.  While a prefect was not necessarily a military rank, it was always a position of considerable authority and in most stagings of Superstar, it is clear that Pilate controls the Roman guard.  In this production, the guard are costumed as riot police while Pilate is in a three-piece suit.  There is no visible connection between them, and to anyone unfamiliar with the show it is not at all clear that Pilate is the ultimate authority who directs the guard and who embodies the awesome might of Rome.  Instead, the guard seemingly enter and exit the stage randomly, and while their costumes depict a certain degree of totalitarianism, their body language and movements are less than menacing.  It would help if the actors portraying the guard would stalk through the crowd with more energy and deliberation, and if they would stand rigidly at attention, utilizing sharp, distinct movements when they arrest John and, later, Jesus, to emphasize that the guard are in charge, and they are capable of and willing to use force to subdue the rabble.  The effect of these combined choices is that we never see the imposing, overarching power of Rome – so the fear that the Roman forces may annihilate Christ’s followers which is voiced by Judas during “Heaven on Their Minds” has no context or credibility. 

The structure of the show depends upon the set-up provided by the lyrics of “Heaven on Their Minds.”  That opening vocal number reveals Judas not as a reviled traitor, but as a critical-thinking voice of reason who entreats Jesus to recognize the very real ramifications of creating unreasonable expectations in his followers (“You have set them all on fire/They think they’ve found the new Messiah/And they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong”) and of emboldening the crowd (“Listen, Jesus, do you care for your race?/Don’t you see we must keep in our place./We are occupied./Have you forgotten how put down we are?/I am frightened by the crowd/for we are getting much too loud/And they’ll crush us if we go too far.”).  Because most of us know the familiar story, we already know how it will end:  the crowd does indeed turn on Jesus, and the Roman authority is willing to execute him to crush the political upheaval he incited.  From the outset, the lyrics present Judas as a much more sympathetic and multi-dimensional character than the one usually discussed at Sunday school, and that controversial interpretation is what gives much of the show its tension.

In this production, Judas, portrayed by Travis Everett, is single-minded and less nuanced than the character created by the lyrics.  This Judas is unremittingly angry – at Jesus, at everyone around him, and at the situation in general.  While Mr. Everett’s performance is undeniably passionate, it does not capitalize on the character’s complexities.  Whatever confusion, concern or internal conflict that may be part of the Judas character are all presented here as abrasive hostility and we are deprived of the opportunity to understand or care about the gradations of his perspective.  No little part of the problem is the decision jointly made by the music director, Dr. Martha Springstead, and the actor to deliver Judas’ songs in a guttural growl vaguely reminiscent of the heavy metal band Judas Priest whose insignia is emblazoned on the t-shirt this Judas wears for most of the show.  That style all too frequently compromises the enunciation of the lyrics – a definite problem in a sung-through musical where there are no spoken lines to convey exposition – and the uniform delivery prevents us from viewing Judas as a multi-faceted individual.  During his single a cappella moment where he sings melodically, Mr. Everett displays a pleasing tone that the Babe wishes was more liberally exhibited throughout his performance.

As Jesus, Sean Hines’ physical appearance is strikingly similar to the depiction of Christ illustrated in countless paintings throughout the ages.  His interpretation focuses almost exclusively upon Christ’s humanity which perhaps makes the character more relatable than he is depicted in many versions, but creates a disconnect in numbers such as “The Temple” where the lyrics emphasize the character’s divinity; this Jesus is so convincingly human that it is jarring when he goes berserk in the temple, screaming at the vendors that “my house should be a house of prayer.”  Because this interpretation lacks either the ethereal otherworldliness or the self-assured determination to fulfill his destiny that are often displayed in the title role, here Christ’s confrontations with Pilate and Herod lack credibility, for surely a mere mortal would succumb to the temptation to whip off a little miracle and save his own skin.  Mr. Hines’ singing voice is nice and smooth, if perhaps less dynamic and powerful than one would expect in this demanding role, and is best displayed in Christ’s quiet, more introspective moments.  The Theater Babe was disappointed that one such moment following his outburst at the temple was so completely undermined by the almost incessant motion of what is obviously supposed to be frozen ensemble members.  Christ stands downstage center in a solo spot, while members of the ensemble kneel in the darkness slightly upstage.  Each holds a large white piece of cloth that each of them shake and fiddle with throughout Christ’s musical soliloquy, apparently trying to flatten them out so they are ready to be placed upon their heads in the next scene.  Christ does not command our attention, the fabric reflects the light, and the constant motion keeps our eyes dancing around the darkened stage, so we are deprived of the opportunity to emotionally connect with Jesus as he reveals his exhaustion and establishes the theme that is expanded in the role’s premier moment later in the show.  In part because we have not shared that emotional foundation with the character in the first act, the second act’s “Gethsemane” is not the showstopping moment that we wish it would be.

That number is also plagued by a problem that is systemic in this production:  the imbalance of the orchestra.  The Theater Babe applauds the decision to use musicians rather than recorded instrumentals and welcomes the additional energy that element brings to the performance.  But throughout the entire show, the brass section dominates not only the other instruments but the vocals, as well; all too often the brass create a discordant cacophony that competes with rather than complements the vocals.  That’s a glaring problem in a sung-through musical, because when the libretto is deafened by the accompaniment, plot points conveyed through the words are lost to the audience and scenes seem to lurch from one to the next because we do not hear the lyrics that link them together.  When the brass are more restrained, we are able to appreciate the efforts of talented drummer Ralph Copley.

Superstar’s best-known ballad, “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” suffers a similar fate.  As Mary Magdalene, Rebekah Rawhouser exhibits a lovely singing voice and a poised presence, but during her solo we are distracted by not only the overpowering brass section, but by the overt reactions of Judas who is upstage on a raised level.  Because our attention is diverted, aurally and visually, we do not focus upon nor do we connect emotionally with the female lead.  We do thoroughly enjoy Ms. Rawhouser’s beautiful “Could We Start Again Please?” in the second act, even as we wish that the male half of the duet (Peter, played by Steve Suskin) would be more lyrically sung.

 

Andrew Schwalm (Annas) demonstrates a strong, clear tenor voice as he scales the high notes of “This Jesus Must Die,” and “Blood Money” with apparently effortless ease.  Russell Teagle’s performance as Caiaphas makes the most of his rich, deep singing voice but would be improved by more careful articulation of his diction, particularly on the lower notes.

Vocally, the ensemble is at its best when singing together in unison, and they display a charming enthusiasm during “Hosanna.”  Some of the other choral numbers such as “Simon Zealotes” get off to a rocky start but come together several bars into the song; it may be that the ensemble has difficulty hearing the initial pitch when the brass dominate the introduction.  The choreography by Paul W. Springstead is appropriately tailored to the aptitude of these performers, and the Babe commends dance captain Edilen Obamos for ensuring that every cast member, even those with markedly minimal dance experience, knows the steps.

It is noticeable that in this production Jesus has only nine disciples, when in the Bible as well as in other productions there were twelve.  Although traditionally all twelve are played by men, here two of the nine are cast as women; it is unexplained why the other three disciples were not also played by female actors.  It appears that fewer men may have auditioned than were needed, and that had an obvious impact upon this production including some problematic double-casting.  At the beginning of the show, we see John the Baptist preparing the way of the Lord and baptizing the ensemble.  John is arrested and taken offstage by the guard, but reappears in the next scene and the remainder of the show dressed in the same costume worn during the baptisms.  That’s both curious and distracting because only a few minutes later, Caiaphas sings that “like John before him, this Jesus must die.”  For “Trial by Pilate,” a couple of the disciples return to the stage with nominal alterations to their costumes to depict that they are now representing members of the madding crowd, but a few of them do not change at all yet nonetheless proclaim “Crucify him! Crucify him!” with the rest of the chorus.  That might work if there was any suggestion that they had joined in the frenzy for fear they too might be persecuted, but here, there is no dramatic import to the shift.  It is as if we are just supposed to assume and accept that they are no longer portraying the character they were only seconds earlier, and that severely detracts from the credibility of the whole -- especially since immediately after the crucifixion, those same disciples/ensemble members are seen openly mourning Christ’s death.

The technical aspects of this production do little to help tell the tale.  The set design by Bill Armstrong is simple and devoid of any indicia of a specific time or place.  That emphasizes the idea that the story is relevant to all people in all places, but requires the audience to fill in the blanks about where the characters are supposed to be physically located at any given time – a task that is challenging when the lyrics are not always audible.  The blocking rarely uses the entire space, and too frequently the ensemble appears to be insufficiently directed regarding their individual placement; often the actors appear to just find a space to stand onstage without a sense of the role each member plays in creating a complete picture.  At other times, the ensemble enters and spends long, uninteresting moments engaged in contrived spoken ad libs while waiting for their musical cue and those instances cause the otherwise well-paced show to drag. 

The orchestra is upstage on a higher level behind a scrim which is too sheer to mute the lights on the music stands, and those lights repeatedly mitigate the mood attempting to be created by a single spotlight shining on an otherwise dark stage.  No lighting designer is credited in the program, and while a stronger lighting plot would have helped to provide clarity during the performance, the light used at the very end to suggest the unseen resurrection is quite effective.  The costumes, designed by Jacky Robinson, do not appear to be part of a comprehensive plan but, with few exceptions, strongly resemble outfits that each cast member may have assembled from his/her own closet.  Christ is in an all white flowing shirt and pants that accentuate his role as the innocent Lamb of God.  It appears that the authoritarian figures are mostly dressed in business suits to contrast with the disciples and the crowd who are in more casual attire – but Caiaphas is inexplicably clad in a tuxedo and the item which may have been a chain of office hanging around his neck did not read well from the stage, distracting us and causing us to wonder what it represented.  The ensemble seems to be for the most part dressed in lightweight summer clothes, but Mary Magdalene wears a substantial leather jacket, distinguishing her but also distracting us as we wonder why she needs a coat while others are comfortable wearing shorts.

Bottom line?  LTN’s Jesus Christ Superstar presents many ideas that are neither fully explained nor well-connected to the material, and their implementation often distracts us from the essence of what has been called the greatest story ever told.  But if this production does not exactly succeed in achieving its worthy ambitions, it is always worthwhile to support community theatre.



Performances run through October 1st, Friday - Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 2:30 p.m.

at the Little Theatre of Norfolk

801 Claremont Avenue, Norfolk, Virginia 23507.

Tickets are $18 for adults, with discounts for youth, students, seniors and military,

and can be obtained online at: http://www.ltnonline.com or

by calling the box office at (757) 627-8551.

 

 © 2017  Hampton Roads Theater Babe.  All Rights Reserved.

SHON M. STACY STAGES STUNNING ASSASSINS AT THE GENERIC THEATER

Theater Babe Says:  Don’t Miss It!!
 

The basic premise of the show is weird:  nine of the people who killed (or tried to) U. S. Presidents interact with each other irrespective of the time/space continuum and sing and bicker and sing.  But due to the expert direction of Shon M. Stacy, in the Generic’s production of Assassins we quickly grasp the concept and, much more importantly, just accept it because we so immediately become enmeshed in and mesmerized by the uniformly strong performances of this outstanding ensemble cast.

The plot is a collage of vignettes during which the assassins show us the motivations behind the acts for which they are remembered.  The scenes are linked through the actions and commentary of two fictional characters known only as The Proprietor and The Balladeer, and the tale is told through a mixture of monologues, dialogues and a Sondheim score showcasing musical styles of each era in which each assassin lived.

The characters first meet at a fairground and the shooting booth motif to which we are introduced in the opening scene is used throughout to depict the gunshots, target-practice style.  Mr. Stacy’s scenic design creates a theatre in the almost round, with the audience lining the stage on three sides.  Colorful draping hangs from the ceiling and evokes the sense that the audience has entered an old-time circus tent.  The upstage fourth side is filled by a long, wide screen onto which different images and historical footage are projected.  Unabashedly bright red, white and blue Americana set decorations surrounding the screen provide a sharp contrast to the dark dysfunction of the stories depicted before them.  Black boxes are the only furnishings, and they are moved about in various configurations to suggest different settings, leaving ample room for Mr. Stacy’s clever and creative blocking.  The Generic is an intimate space anyway, but the deliberate placement of the audience so close to the stage edges, combined with the spare set pieces and the liberal use of the aisles for the actors’ entrances and exits add to the feeling that we are part of the drama as it unfolds.

It is said that a director’s most critical task is casting the right actor for the right role.  Here, Mr. Stacy validates that truism by assembling a cast of exceptional talent where each performer, regardless of the amount of her stage time, is a unique and distinct individual.  Every member of the cast possesses a strong, rich vocal quality and under the superb music direction of Karla D. Robinson, the cast's collective diction is crystal-clear as they crush the complexities of the score and embrace its gorgeous melodic dissonance.  This is Sondheim as it is meant to be sung.

Nowhere is that vocal dexterity better displayed than in “The Gun Song,” a piece that begins as a solo by Leon Czolgosz, the assassin of President William McKinley, morphs into a duet with John Wilkes Booth (played by Anthony Falcon), becomes a trio with Charles J. Guiteau (Steven Meeks) and expands to a quartet with Sara Jane Moore (Toni Zito).  As Czolgosz, Charles Adam Robinson’s soulful, deep and profoundly beautiful tones captivate us from the first note and lure us into listening intently to his perspective.  As each subsequent singer joins the refrain, harmonies blend and intersect with such lush precision that we find ourselves almost persuaded that murdering someone is a justifiable means to “change the world.”

The incredible vocals in this show are apparent from the start.  Although The Proprietor is traditionally played by a male actor, Mr. Stacy wisely chose Alyssa Sortino for the role.  Ms. Sortino not only has an amazing set of pipes, but her stage presence is sexy and tantalizing which brings a new dimension to the part.  The Proprietor suggests to the assassins that their various discontents can be solved if they “c’mon and shoot a President;” the role is the sinister counterpart to The Balladeer who is himself the manifestation of faith in the American Dream.  In this production, Zack Kattwinkel’s Balladeer is tall, slender, blonde, dressed in a light-colored cowboy-ish outfit, and he appears to be the epitome of the stereotypical boy-next-door.  His energy is engaging and optimistic, diametrically opposed to Ms. Sortino’s no-less-powerful drive depicted as a dark, curvy dominatrix clad in a black bustier and thigh-high boots.  The contrast is stark and effective, and is perhaps most notable at the end of “Another National Anthem” when the assassins’ fury, encouraged in this staging by The Proprietor, reaches a fever pitch and Mr. Kattwinkel is forced offstage while Ms. Sortino gloats and skips off, still conducting the cacophony with maniacal glee.

As The Balladeer, Mr. Kattwinkel is the voice of reason and it is in part due to the strength of his performance that this production as a whole works so well.  The assassins’ characters are so well-crafted that a lesser actor’s portrayal of the role could be sidelined by their compelling, if twisted, quirks and charisma.  Because Mr. Kattwinkel is so appealing and forceful in a completely different way, we believe him when he explains early in the performance that despite the assassins’ momentary victories, it “hurts a while, but soon the country’s back where it belongs,” and that confidence offsets what could become a morass of hopelessness and despair.  Mr. Kattwinkel’s versatile singing style is shown to advantage here, from the lyrical “Ballad of Booth” to the bouncy patter of “The Ballad of Czolgosz.”

Ed Palmer's Lee Harvey Oswald is a believable cretin, with petulant delusions that are skewed to motivate him to assassinate President Kennedy.  As Giuseppe Zangara, Rafael Henriquez is credibly bitter, but his delivery of “How I Saved Roosevelt” makes the character's rationale behind making FDR the target of his murderous inclinations seem logical and even humorous – until the moment when his sudden intensity hits us with the force of a sledgehammer, and we are uneasy that we were laughing only seconds earlier.  A more subtle, but equally effective moment occurs when Zangara’s stomach pains are finally cured. 

Having wholeheartedly enjoyed Nathan Jacques’ turn as the winsome, likeable Lucas Beineke in The Addams Family a while back, the Theater Babe was astounded by his transformation into John Hinckley, Jr.  Mr. Jacques’ portrayal of the would-be assassin of Ronald Reagan bears a distinct resemblance to a less-lovable Lurch – and adds a disturbing, angry strangeness that leaves no doubt that he would plot to kill a president to prove his devotion to a movie star.  Vocally, he is well-matched with Alexandra Shephard’s Squeaky Fromme, and their duet, “Unworthy of Your Love,” is a highlight in a show that is full of memorable moments.

Ms. Shephard’s depiction of the Charles Manson supporter who tried to shoot President Ford is eminently convincing, mixing a stalwart messianic zeal with a patently sincere, if peculiar, romantic glow.  The construct of the show places Squeaky Fromme in several scenes with Sara Jane Moore, another wannabe Ford assassin, and the comedic chemistry between Ms. Shephard and Ms. Zito is as delightful as it is unexpected.  After all, anyone unfamiliar with a show called Assassins does not expect to find anything funny about a bunch of murderers.  But these women are hilarious, especially but not only in the scene leading to their confrontation with the president.  Ms. Zito is wonderfully and side-splittingly clumsy without crossing that fine line into slapstick.  As hysterical as she is, there’s a pleasing naturalness to her chaos . . . we believe that she’s just a hot mess.

No less funny but in a very dissimilar way is Steven Meeks’ portrayal of Charles J. Guiteau, the preacher turned author and self-acclaimed statesman who assassinated 19^th century President Garfield.  Mr. Meeks’ interpretation gives his character a lightness, a buoyant joy and eccentric sweetness, and such a genuine likeability that in our enjoyment of his scenes we almost forget Guiteau is a complete and utter nut.  Mr. Meeks’ singing voice is robust and clear, well-suited to the hymn-style, “The Ballad of Guiteau,” and his crisp execution of the choreography adds to the incongruence of the assassin’s attitude toward his incipient demise.

Garney Johnson delivers a remarkable performance as Samuel Byck, a man who announced his grievances (and, later, his intention of killing President Nixon) in a series of cassette tapes which he sent to various celebrities.  No song defines Byck’s motivations.  His character is instead revealed in two scene-length monologues and Mr. Johnson masters the awesome challenge of humanizing Byck while he is alone on an otherwise silent stage.  We understand he is an actor reciting lines that he has rehearsed countless times before, but Mr. Johnson is so true to the moment that we are swept away into Byck’s drunken ramblings and we believe that his bipolar-esque mood swings emerge on the spot, rather than resulting from any calculation.  Mr. Johnson’s black comedy is among the most compelling of the entire show.

Actors with comparatively less stage time deliver no less accomplished performances.  As “Housewife,” Shawna Lawhorn is the cornerstone of the moving “Something Just Broke” commemorating the nation’s reaction to JFK’s assassination, and her rendition is both poignant and real.  Darden Dickerson as the anarchist Emma Goldman uses her mellifluous voice to excellent effect in her single scene.  And Lucas Hallauer makes the most of his brief appearance as Sara Jane Moore’s bratty son without succumbing to the temptation to milk the moment.  He is perfectly awful.

But of all the many noteworthy performances it was the Theater Babe’s pleasure to experience, it is Anthony Falcon’s riveting portrayal of John Wilkes Booth that is the standout in this production.  From the minute he stalks onstage during the opening number, he demands our attention and we are captivated by him.  In an instant, Mr. Falcon’s powerful performance conveys Booth’s political defiance at the Ford’s Theater followed by his desperation to counter the media hype that condemned him and to explain not only the perceived deficiencies in Lincoln’s presidency, but the effect those deficiencies had on his beloved South.  During “The Ballad of Booth,” Mr. Falcon’s emotional and resounding vocals are an impeccable match for Sondheim’s juxtaposition of dulcet and soaring melodies – and the sheer beauty of the sound seduces us and makes us reevaluate what we thought we knew about the vile traitor who killed Abraham Lincoln.  Mr. Kattwinkel’s Balladeer interrupts our musings with a brash refutation of Booth’s self-serving statements, and Mr. Falcon’s reaction is both credible and comical.  It is the first, but by no means only, taste of Mr. Falcon’s skilled portrayal of Booth’s interactions with the other players.  Because in this show, Booth is not merely a historical figure.  He is also a ringleader, encouraging and facilitating his successors in crime.  Mr. Falcon’s Booth has a distinct opinion of each of the other assassins, ranging from his disdain for Sara Jane Moore and Charles J. Guiteau to his calculated mentorship of Lee Harvey Oswald, visible not only in his expressive facial features, but in his posture, and the actor demonstrates commendable restraint in not overplaying a role that could easily become a mere caricature.  We do not like Mr. Falcon’s Booth, but we are dazzled by his brilliance.

Of course, the actors are only part of the performance, and the production team and technical crew are first rate.  Animator Paul Costen’s creative imagery is both entertaining and functional as it moves the plot forward and adds to the emotional import of the moment.  Sound Designer Charles Owrey and Sound Board Operator Tina Finnerty create and execute numerous aural cues which enhance the credibility of the action, each delivered in perfect synchronicity.  The lighting design by Alex Mason simultaneously manages to be theatrical and subtle, and often modifies our mood before we are fully aware of the change.  Costume designer Katelyn Jackson creates such a comprehensive look for each character that we know precisely who they are before the plot introduces them to us.  And the Babe gets tired just thinking about the innumerable cues and other tasks that Stage Manager Suzie Finnerty must enact backstage to maneuver the magic.  Together, the production team and tech crew have conceived and enacted a comprehensive and cohesive vision for this show that is all but invisible to the audience -- and that is no little feat.

Bottom line?   Make the time and buy a ticket for this extraordinary production.

 

Performances run through September 17th, Thursday - Saturday at 8 p.m., and Sunday at 2:30 p.m.

at The Generic Theater

215 St. Paul's Boulevard, Norfolk, Virginia 23510

Tickets are $18 for adults, with discounts for students, seniors and active duty military, and can be obtained online at http://www.generictheater.org or by calling the box office at (757) 441-2160.

 

 

© 2017  Hampton Roads Theater Babe.  All Rights Reserved.

 

DETAILS UNDERMINE THE DRAMA OF WP'S JEKYLL & HYDE

Theater Babe Says:  Go … and Explore the Duality of the Human Condition.

What works in The Williamsburg Players’ Jekyll and Hyde works really, really well -- there are some extraordinary performances which rank with the best of any the Theater Babe has ever seen  professionally or otherwise.  But all too often, director Jonathan McCormick’s vision for this production is marred by execution errors which prevent this presentation from rising to the full level of its immense potential.

The plot is an adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s famous novella.  Set in late 19^th century London, the story pivots around Dr. Henry Jekyll, a respected scientist determined to use chemistry to cure mankind of the madness which afflicted and doomed his beloved father.  Convinced that he is on the brink of bifurcating evil and madness from the good in a human soul, Dr. Jekyll appeals to the Board of Governors of the local hospital to permit him to use an inmate from the mental ward as a test subject.  When the Board denies his request, Jekyll elects to take the potion himself.  The experiment succeeds, with disastrous consequences:  the evil lurking within the good doctor which was previously suppressed by his nobler instincts emerges as a full-fledged, sociopathic separate entity that names itself Edward Hyde.  Whether Jekyll can contain and control his inner Hyde and the impact that struggle has on his engagement to the lovely, aristocratic Emma Carew is the essence of the tale.

Although the title roles are occasionally played by two different men, Mr. McCormick wisely chose a single actor to play both parts, reinforcing the notion that both good and evil are inherent within the same soul.  As the extremely demanding dual characters, Geoffrey Klein displays a singing voice of uncommon power, richness and range seldom seen in community theatre.  In particular, Mr. Klein’s rendition of “This is the Moment” is spellbinding.

Overall, however, Mr. Klein’s performance is diminished by continuous production problems which prevent us from truly vesting in or caring about his character.  The single biggest disappointment is the lack of effective sound board management.  Composer Frank Wildhorn’s score is rife with emotional ballads, the intensity of which often vary widely within a single song.  Mr. Klein’s enormous sound constantly blows out his body mike, causing his beautiful tone to become unpleasantly distorted, and his diction to be muddied to the point of incomprehension.  In a show where much of the plot and virtually all of the character development is presented in song, that’s a real problem . . . and it is eminently fixable by adjusting his microphone levels throughout the show.

Similarly, his characters’ styling does not enhance Mr. Klein’s performance but rather gives him additional barriers to overcome in what is already a ridiculously challenging role.  From the outset, Dr. Jekyll’s appearance is disheveled even when he attends two of the most important occasions of his life:  the Board of Governors meeting and his engagement party.  Perhaps it is intended to present as absent-minded-professor-ish, but it comes off as merely sloppy and we are left wondering why, in a class-conscious era where a fastidious appearance was deemed to be a sign of competence and virtue, Jekyll would expect to be afforded the respect of his aristocratic “betters.”  Additionally, because his appearance is unkempt from the beginning, later in the show there is no obvious outward depiction of Jekyll’s deteriorating condition.  As Hyde, Mr. Klein is perennially hampered by over-the-top efforts to conceal his identity – most conspicuously by his long black wig.  While the Theater Babe applauds Mr. McCormick’s choice to portray Hyde as man instead of a supernatural monster, completely covering the character’s face with yards of hair reminiscent of Cousin It deprives the actor of the opportunity to convey his villainy through any facial expression, and watching a figure fully shrouded by cape, hat and hair is just not as interesting as seeing his face.  Simply trimming the wig to slightly shorter than shoulder length would be a significant improvement, as it would permit Hyde to conceal himself when he faces off against another character, but could be tossed back so we can see his features when he is alone.  As it is, because the wig completely covers his face and his costume envelops his body, Mr. Klein has only his voice to portray his emotions . . . and that voice is rendered largely unintelligible by the amplification issues.  The talented Mr. Klein’s impassioned performance deserves to be better showcased, audibly and visually, than it is here.

As Emma, Laurel Christensen possesses a pretty singing voice with a crystalline upper register best displayed in her exquisite “Once Upon a Dream.”  Although there is little discernable chemistry between she and Jekyll, Ms. Christensen’s Emma is steadfast and loyal to her fiancée.  The show’s structure is such that Emma and Jekyll spend little time together, so different blocking of their romantic duet, “Take Me As I Am,” to place the couple in closer physical proximity would help make her devotion seem more plausible.  Emma’s interactions with her father, played by Martin Bussert, are credibly warm and loving and Mr. Bussert is pleasingly genuine as a concerned, protective parent who fears losing his cherished relationship with his child.  “Letting Go,” exhibiting Mr. Bussert’s fine singing voice, is not the biggest moment of the show, but it is among the most poignant.

Erin Hannon’s outstanding portrayal of Lucy, the hooker with a heart of gold, takes the trope and turns it into something truly memorable.  From the moment she steps onstage, she smolders with a sensuality that is cynical but not tawdry and throughout the show, her performance is uniformly captivating.  Ms. Hannon’s belt is lush and gorgeous in tone and is shown to advantage in “Someone Like You,” while her impeccable control and emotional range is best displayed in the haunting “Sympathy, Tenderness.”  The Theater Babe only wishes that lighting director Scott Hayes would have chosen different effects during “A New Life.”  When the number begins, Ms. Hannon is lit so that her lovely face appears ghoulishly skeletal.  That lighting horribly detracts from her accomplished performance and it pulls us out of the drama developed by the music.  It is only when Ms. Hannon steps downstage and escapes the relentless spot that we are able to fully appreciate and enjoy the entirety of her performance.

The lighting design also is not entirely successful during the show’s climactic “Confrontation.”  The intended effect is amazing and dramatic in the best sense of the word, but the implementation permits us to clearly see the mechanics behind the magic and it prevents us from becoming immersed in the moment.  The sound design by Kasey Gilder, Mr. Hayes and John Trindle is equally problematic in that scene.  We appreciate the attempt to expand Hyde’s voice until it virtually engulfs Jekyll’s protestations, but the sound effects so garble the lyrics of both characters that anyone unfamiliar with the show is left guessing at what is going on, and the emotional impact of the powerful lyrics is lost.

This production enjoys the benefit of excellent performances by several actors whose characters have relatively limited stage time.  As Jekyll’s best friend, John Utterson, Alvan Bolling is convincing and, although it could use a bit more volume, his smooth, mellow singing voice is an attractive contrast to Mr. Klein’s, particularly during “His Work and Nothing More.” Mr. Bolling’s monologues are a tad fast; a slightly slower pace would more easily enable those unfamiliar with the show to understand the expositional narrative.  Marcia Dadds is wonderfully snooty as Lady Beaconsfield.  John Cauthen is persuasively sleazy as Lucy’s pimp, Spider.  And the uncredited ensemble member who plays the swaying madwoman in the opening scene delivers a subtle, consistent performance which, while not distracting from the main action, silently reinforces the sense that Jekyll is visiting his father in a mental hospital.

The two level set, a stone bridge designed by Brian Agor, is very large and is seldom augmented by chairs or other set pieces.  That limits the blocking options and the cast frequently just stands center stage.  The bridge is constructed of “stones” which appear to be three dimensional and are quite beautiful, but there is only a single set of stairs connecting it to the mainstage and those steps are so narrow and steep that the cast members are noticeably wary as they ascend and descend.  When a group of actors crosses the bridge to exit stage left, there is an obvious delay while the first navigates the unseen stairs in the wing and the other actors just stand in line waiting to leave the set instead of remembering that they are still visible to the audience.  Perhaps because of the difficult access points, the second story of the set is often empty, with the result that it is nice to look at but does not help to tell the tale.  Additionally, the bright white backdrop behind the bridge sways every time there is the slightest movement behind it.  Because the bridge is often exclusively lit from the front, it casts a big, dark shadow directly center stage which then waves whenever the scrim moves, far too often distracting our attention away from the hard working actors.

Conducted by music director Nerissa W. Thompson, the orchestra has a harmonious blend as it attacks this challenging score.  Ms. Thompson does an exceptional job of keeping the instrumentalists and singers coordinated although they are in physically separate places, and she is adept at negotiating the hundreds of musical cues throughout the show.  The ensemble is composed of numerous strong singers who are well-rehearsed and ably execute the dissonant harmonies typical of a Wildhorn score, but their diction as a group is not consistently clear.  Occasionally, and especially in “Murder, Murder,” the voice parts are unbalanced; the top notes are shockingly shrill and overpower not only the other vocalists, but the orchestra.  That severe imbalance detracts from what is usually a beautiful, full choral sound.

The fight choreography, designed by Christopher Bernhardt, is inventive and varied though its execution would be improved if the actors were closer together so that the action would appear more realistic and spontaneous.  The dance choreography by Dana Margulies Cauthen is not as successful.  This strong vocal cast is not shown to advantage by the circle dance during the engagement ball and having a few couples just waltz might have been a better choice.  And while the idea of having the ensemble freeze into various positions during “Take Me as I Am” is intriguing, because the entire ensemble moves together at specific times during the song, the motion repeatedly pulls our attention away from the lovers’ duet and undermines the song’s purpose in depicting their relationship. 

The Theater Babe notes that Mr. McCormick wears many hats in this production.  In addition to making his directorial debut, he is the assistant music director, plays in the orchestra during the performances and served as the rehearsal pianist.  Mr. McCormick is astonishingly talented and this production benefits from his creativity, energy and dedication.  The Theater Babe hopes that Mr. McCormick will continue to direct, but perhaps in future productions a judicious editing of his responsibilities might permit him to focus on the totality of the whole so that the execution of the details may promote rather than detract from his remarkable vision.

Bottom line?  The Williamsburg Players’ Jekyll and Hyde is an extremely ambitious production that covers a lot of new ground and if the journey is not always completely satisfying, it is still well worth the time and ticket price.

 

Remaining performances are September 29th - October 1st at 8 p.m.

and on October 1st at 2 p.m.

at the Williamsburg Players, 200 Hubbard Lane, Williamsburg, Virginia

Tickets are $20 for adults, with discounts for students,

and can be obtained online at www.williamsburgplayers.org or

by calling the box office at (757) 229-0431.

 

© 2016  Hampton Roads Theater Babe.  All Rights Reserved.