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KING HEDLEY II Provides Powerful Theatre at Hattiloo

The Emerald Theatre Company at Theatre Works is currently showcasing not one, not two, not three - but nine pieces in its latest production, STANDING ON CEREMONY: THE GAY MARRIAGE PLAYS. This modest, meaningful series of vignettes - some, extremely funny; some, sad in the extreme; all, worth seeing - deserves a bit of attention. No matter where you stand on the issue of gay marriage, these enjoyable little playlets tug on your sensibilities and ultimately have a point and purpose. A number of writers have contributed to the piece - Paul Rudnick, Moises Kaufman, Neil LaBute, and others.

Staging a play by Henrik Ibsen or Anton Chekhov poses certain problems for theatre groups. On the one hand, there is a commitment to 'the classics' - and there is an opportunity for actors (especially young ones) to examine their talents and extend them in directions they have not gone before. The 'downside' is the reputation such plays have as 'talkfests,' for they are often deliberate and detailed in their construction of characters and relationships. I was reminded of this during both the performance and the intermission of Playhouse on the Square's production of Chekhov's THE SEAGULL (which, literally, follows on the 'heels' of THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW). During Intermission, two couples stood next to my seat and discussed the play. With a hint of apology, one lady stated, 'The actors are very good, but I really prefer the musicals.' Yet, as I watched and listened to the play, I glanced at one audience member, leaning forward and rapt in concentration; and further down my row, another could audibly be heard gasping at the insensitivity of 'Madame Arkandina' toward her son.

There was a time when it seemed as if any talent contender in a beauty pageant would lay into 'Don't Cry Out Loud' (later, Dolly Parton's 'I Will Always Love You' seemed to supplant it). It crept out of every radio station ad nauseum. Its almost iconic 'ear candy' status rendered it cringe-inducing, as far as I was concerned. Moreover, its composer and interpreter, Australian Peter Allen, was not the kind of performer I enjoyed - I prefer my talent without the 'over the top' exclamation point; he belonged, to my way of thinking, to the Liberace/Barry Manilow/Liza Minelli kind of performer. (Admittedly, I have a number of friends who take issue with this and who, rope in hand, would gladly pursue me if lynching were acceptable.) Their 'showmanship' and 'over the top' self-promotion proved exhausting. However, the intervening years have reconciled me to Allen's music, and THE BOY FROM OZ. with a book by Martin Sherman and Nick Enright and a parade of Allen songs, has, in Theatre Memphis' latest offering, even somewhat endeared me to him.

The intimate venue at Germantown Community Theatre provides a perfect setting for a drama like Arthur Miller's ALL MY SONS, an early-but-still timely demonstration of Miller's gifts as a playwright - and, as with all of Miller's major works, a veritable feast for actors. Like the later, legendary DEATH OF A SALESMAN and the McCarthy Era-inspired THE CRUCIBLE, Miller adopts and, when necessary, bends the rules of Classical tragedy to admit the likes of 'Willy Loman' and 'Joe Keller' into a realm dominated by OEDIPUS and ANTIGONE. While ALL MY SONS certainly stands on its own merits as an important play, it is tempting to see the similarities between it and Miller's most famous work.

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Theatre Memphis' Next Stage has girded its loins and taken on the challenge of staging Michael Frayn's dense and difficult COPENHAGEN, and it must have known from the outset that such an esoteric piece will offer rewards to a select audience. The very title itself (though certainly appropriate) is not exactly audience-inviting; and the language, redolent with physics jargon and theories, is tantamount to watching a foreign film or listening to an opera without subtitles. Indeed, I had been warned by a very erudite theatregoer who had just seen it the previous night that there would be an exodus after intermission: There was. In spite of all this, the play can be richly rewarding for those who remain seated - even those whose only previous experience with physics came in the form of the woefully miscast Denise Richards as research physicist 'Dr. Christmas Jones' in the 'James Bond' adventure THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH (my jaw dropped at that one - as it did recently while watching Jennifer Lopez assay the role of an instructor of classics in THE BOY NEXT DOOR . . . with 'Minnie Mouse'-voiced Kristen Chenowith as an Assistant Principal!)

Nothing seems to scare the valiant little troupe Threepenny Theatre Company. What has it got to lose? So what if the budget allows for no more than a perfunctory set? So what if its selection of classics (i.e., MACBETH) hardly has the appeal of a crowd-pleasing musical? Relying on a commitment to quality of writing and performance, it has pulled off a real coup: A stunning production of Eugene O'Neill's warhorse of a classic, the autobiographical LONG DAY'S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT, produced posthumously and, in 1962, given classic cinema status by Director Sidney Lumet and brilliant performers Ralph Richardson, Katharine Hepburn, Dean Stockwell, and Jason Robards, Jr. (to whom O'Neill was as essential as Tennessee Williams was to Elizabeth Taylor). This particular warhorse, however, is of the Trojan variety, and Director Matt Crewse has tamed the beast with the aid of four performances that are nothing short of brilliant.

It's an interesting and unintentional coincidence: PETER PAN, which wrapped up Playhouse on the Square's Holiday Season, offered the younger set its first taste of transvestism, with musically gifted actresses alternating in the role of 'Peter' (talk about the incipience of gender confusion); now, as the New Year has begun, the older set has its exposure with Jim Sharman and Richard O'Brien's THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW. This isn't the first time Playhouse has allowed a cast and crew to indulge themselves in fishnet hose and makeup; I can recall previous performances of this guilty pleasure with the remarkable Mark Chambers (anyone who ever saw him 'strut his stuff' is not likely to forget his performance - 'boomers' who 'time warped' in the aisles still talk about it). I imagine that everyone involved in this production dived headfirst into their costume fittings with all the giddy zeal of children glamming it up at Halloween.

While watching Circuit Playhouse's wickedly funny, stimulating production of Joshua Harmon's BAD JEWS, I was briefly reminded of an almost forgotten episode of SEINFELD, in which 'Elaine' clashes with her mutton-loving cousin 'Holly' over Grandma Mima's missing napkins (actually used by 'Jerry' to hide chewed pieces he couldn't swallow). SEINFELD was noted for raising the trivial to herculean comic heights, and in that respect, BAD JEWS surpasses it. One of the reasons is that, instead of 'napkins,' the object in question is a chai, a gold ornament a deceased grandfather guarded and hid under his tongue during his internment in a Nazi prison camp (now that's a backstory waiting to be told in a different play).

?Fox Valley Rep, in residence at Pheasant Run Resort, announces their calendar-year 2015 season of nostalgic toe-tapping Off-Broadway musicals and modern award-winning comedies, including the Off-Broadway musical thriller, No Way To Treat a Lady, the award-winning farce, Unnecessary Farce, followed by the fun 1960's music revue, The Bikinis, then to the romantic comedy, Maybe Baby It's You, to a holiday music revue, A Christmas Survival Guide.

I like the title of Harold Ellis Clark's WE LIVE HERE, winner of the NewWorks@TheWorks playwriting competition hosted by Playhouse on the Square and now playing at Theatre Works. If you emphasize the word WE, it offers two different interpretations: (1) It could refer to the racist white characters in the play, who don't relish the idea of ceding part of their predominately white neighborhood in Metarie to the black characters who have had the questionable luck of winning a post-Hurricane Katrina lottery; or (2) it could refer to the black characters themselves, who defiantly (and rightly) have planted their feet on new, if rocky, turf. In fact, any of the three words in the title could be emphasized and, consequently, offer a new facet inviting a different interpretation.

As my hand was turning to mincemeat while writing personal notes in Christmas card after Christmas card, I persevered, knowing that at the end of my travails there would be a reward: A much anticipated performance of Theatre Memphis' annual 'gift' to Memphis, Charles Dickens' venerable A CHRISTMAS CAROL. I must admit: I have not attended every performance of that classic since its inception. I have, however, infrequently stopped to hang my wreath at its door; and I've seen some fine 'Ebeneezers' over the years (I recall a former teaching colleague, Tom Ford, offering a tight, clipped interpretation and, of course, one of the best and most frequent of the actors donning those tattered gloves, Memphis acting favorite Barry Fuller). As I wrote card after card, I began to think about all the other interpretations of A CHRISTMAS CAROL that I have encountered through the years - Seymour Hicks; Reginald Owen (in the role MGM intended for an ailing Lionel Barrymore, who had become famous for his radio performance and who would have, no doubt, been superior; a not-all-that-bad consolation prize was his equally tight-fisted 'Mr. Potter' in Frank Capra's IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE); Orson Welles (in a Mercury Theatre radio performance); Sir Ralph Richardson (a beautiful audio recording); Alastair Sim (in the early 1950's British film and offering my favorite interpretation of the role; Danny Peary, in his fascinating ALTERNATE OSCARS, selects him as Best Actor for that performance); and, certainly, George C. Scott, in what was considered to be the version to end all versions. (And does anyone recall Jim Backus' 'Mr. Magoo' in a delightful animated musical television special back in the 1960's?)

Having witnessed the stultifying, bloated NBC production of PETER PAN LIVE (what were the 'powers that be' thinking would hold a child's attention span for three hours, however padded with yet more Peter Pan plugs from Walmart?), I was reluctant to attend Playhouse on the Square's annual production of the James Barrie children's classic. I am probably one of the handful of reviewers to recall the 1955 NBC production (and later one as well) with the legendary pairing of Mary Martin and Cyril Ritchard (whose fruity, overly ripe 'Captain Hook' would make Johnny Depp's 'Jack Sparrow' seem more like a white collar executive). As an IPad-free child inured to black and white fare, it hardly mattered that Mary Martin was, to put it politely, mature; that the production values were clunky; that the wires and 'Tinker' herself were glaringly apparent. In short, I was captivated. Yet, Martin possessed the kind of spunk and spontaneity that made us children believe (not to mention that she had the kind of singing voice that made her a legendary Broadway performer, as evidenced by SOUTH PACIFIC and SOUND OF MUSIC). She could make a child want to fly. Allison Williams, last evening's 'Peter,' lacked that optimistic boyishness (though she had the tomboyish Hilary Swank look 'nailed') and, despite having a pleasant enough voice, often seemed out of breath; but Chrisopher Walken, whom I like and who I initially thought would be inspired casting, seemed to have wandered in from a cocktail party hosted by zombies. His dancing made that of the Monster in YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN seem as nimble as that of Fred Astaire. Despite the wonderful lyrics by Carolyn Leigh, Betty Comden and Adolph Green, and despite the 'ear candy' musical score by Mark Charlalp and Jule Stein, those long, middle stretches in Neverland made me wonder if it would Neverend.

SANDERS FAMILY CHRISTMAS Sweetly Blends the Serious and the Silly

Not too many seasons back, at Theatre Works I saw a charming review of turn-of-the-century musical numbers (by the likes of Irving Berlin and others) entitled SIMPLE MELODIES. The songs were rendered by a small but talented ensemble, and I so enjoyed it that I returned more than once - basically, because I wanted to treat friends who I knew would appreciate it as much as I did. With Theatre Memphis' TINTYPES, conceived by Mary Kyte with Mel Marvin and Gary Pearle, and charmingly directed (often with a 'knowing wink') by Kell Christie, I may just have to contact those friends once again.

?Fox Valley Rep, in residence at Pheasant Run Resort, announces their calendar-year 2015 season of nostalgic toe-tapping Off-Broadway musicals and modern award-winning comedies, including the Off-Broadway musical thriller, No Way To Treat a Lady, the award-winning farce, Unnecessary Farce, followed by the fun 1960's music revue, The Bikinis, then to the romantic comedy, Maybe Baby It's You, to a holiday music revue, A Christmas Survival Guide.

Despite the fact that I am a great lover of cinema, the film version of ONCE (2006) somehow eluded me; now, the musical stage adaptation, with music by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova and a book by Enda Walsh, is affording Memphians an 'off season' 'pub crawl' at the historic Orpheum Theatre - and though I have never been particularly fond of Irish whimsy (Barry Fitzgerald's coy old priest in GOING MY WAY is probably the source of that), and though PBS repeats of performances of clarion-voiced Irish lasses sawing away at violins and Riverdancers send me reaching for the remote, I am happy to report that . . . I finally 'get it.' ONCE is a refreshingly 'laid back' vehicle for a musical; its often wistful, incisive, perceptive numbers are an intimate alternative to the often overblown showstoppers of larger musicals.