Greg Kerestan

Sometimes, smaller, dumber and cheaper is a compliment, not a put-down, as in this miniaturized Mel Brooks classic.

Irving Berlin's songs are both timeless, and also thoroughly of their own time and place.

José Pérez IV's new tragicomedy feels like it's always been around, but still remains refreshing and new.

I'll admit, I had a huge smile on my face all the way through The Music Man that had little to nothing to do with the production itself. You see, I'm a nerd and a theatre kid in my thirties, and to that demographic, there was a cultural phenomenon just as big as Monty Python and Star Trek were to Gen X. I refer, of course, to the legendary ABC comedy variety show, Whose Line Is It Anyway. Seeing Charles Esten (who you may recall by his improv-era stage name Chip Esten) appear onstage and flash that memorable toothy grin for the first time, I felt like I was transported back to fifth grade again. This was just the first pleasure in an altogether lovely evening of theatre: the artistic equivalent of a good old-fashioned picnic.

The funny thing about farce as a genre is it seems to be perpetually stuck in the past; the constant misunderstandings, cross-dressing and door-slamming seem tied to a time before the internet, before cell phones... hell, maybe even before the Pill. It's a Ken Ludwig world that seems tied to the Ken Ludwig era, which is part of what made Saint Vincent's production of Paul Slade Smith's Unnecessary Farce so surprising: this show maintains the frantic craziness, slapstick, sex and silliness of farce, but brings it into the present by imbuing it with elements of the Coen Brothers' crime comedies.

As a literature major, part of me has always found it unbelievable that tight, two-hour adaptations of Alice Walker's The Color Purple have been so successful. The novel is sprawling, complex and dense, with an epistolary structure not unlike the similarly tricky-to-adapt Dracula. Nonetheless, my structural cynicism is always proved wrong.

There is no greater musical theatre staging preservationist than Baayork Lee, who has devoted much of her career to preserving and restaging the original direction and choreography to A Chorus Line.

It's a tale as old as time: the downward spiral of a once-brilliant talent into substance abuse and early death. It's the second half of the 'star is born' template, and it never goes out of style... because it sadly never stops happening in real life. The list is long, with Amy Winehouse as the recent example du jour, but the archetypal musical downfall is legendary jazz vocalist Billie Holiday. Director Tomé Cousin's production of Lady Day at Emerson's Bar & Grill is fascinating, beautiful, but also grueling in its unflinching realism. 

Folks, this is a first. I've been writing reviews for BWW for about ten years now, and rarely have I seen a new work that so deftly and fearlessly blends genres and tones together. Director Monteze Freeland and playwright Mark Clayton Southers have achieved the impossible: The Coffin Maker is an exercise in theatrical flexibility that truly must be seen to be understood.

It's an oldie but a goodie, and packed with oldies-but-goodies.

It's the best episode of 90s SNL that you never saw.

I've posted many times about how much of an institution Saint Vincent Summer Theatre has become: you know you're going to get a slapstick farce, a Golden Age or earlier revue, and usually a musical comedy with pop oldies.

Pittsburgh's biggest musical theatre company is making big moves to support and diversify its audience. A series of focus group encounters led Fleischer and his team to a single recurring idea: remove the barriers that prevent potential audience members from coming, and from returning, to CLO shows.

Oscar Wilde's comedy of manners, lightly reconceived as a screwball farce, is a refreshing summer treat.

James Ijames's Pulitzer-winning comedy Fat Ham is less an adaptation or reimagining of Hamlet, and more a play ABOUT Hamlet, a response to Hamlet. The characters are all too aware of how their stories and behaviors are mirroring characters from Shakespeare's tragedy: they quote it, riff on it, confirm or refute its influence on them.

The rediscovered orchestrations of John Williams make a beloved musical just that much better. If you were a movie or musical fan during the VHS era, you likely remember Fiddler on the Roof as one of those unwieldy three-hour films that require two different cassette tapes to watch in full, like Titanic.

Sara Porkalob's solo show is a captivating mix of musical, monologue and alternative vibes. Solo shows are growing in popularity, both due to their artistic charms and their economic advantages post-COVID. Solo musicals, however, are still a rarity. What's the last one you can think of?

CLO's Spark program has a large-sized hit with the latest small-scale musical it commissioned. As a musical writer, let me just say: it's TOUGH to launch a new musical. The best thing you can do is have a company commission a show from you based on your pitch, otherwise you're going to have a long, difficult but hopefully rewarding journey as an indie theatre creator. (Ask me how I know!)

If you asked me about important works of twentieth century literature, I'll rattle off all the obvious ones like The Great Gatsby and Death of a Salesman, but I'll also make a case for the first ten years of The Simpsons as an essential piece of American literature. Hyper-referential, joke dense, topical and infinitely quotable, so many of the idioms of the twentieth century began in The Simpsons that it's earned a place beside Mark Twain for its quotes alone. Mark Hollman and Greg Kotis's musical Urinetown may style itself as a satirical twist on Brecht and Blitzstein, but any media-savvy viewer will immediately recognize that Matt Groening and Conan O'Brien are its real artistic forefathers.

Leave it to a musical based on George Bernard Shaw to have audiences debating in the aisles after bows.