Jack L. B. Gohn

Scena Theatre productions are never mere theatrical comfort food; they generally have classical or European roots and, whether comic or tragic, they are always intellectually serious affairs, out to show us or make us think about interesting matters. And this show is no exception. With not only [Nobel Laureate Jon] Fosse’s fine script and well-thought-through performances and direction (by company founder Robert McNamara, who usually directs Scena productions), not to mention, in this case, striking sound design by Denise Rose, the show packs a wallop.

A Doll’s House, by Henrik Ibsen, translated, adapted, and directed by Joanie Schultz, runs through September 28, at Everyman Theatre. Read our review of A Doll's House here!

Given the moat of terrible traffic that separates Baltimore theatergoers from Arlington, what can justify a visit there? Well, one answer for sure is Signature Theatre’s stunning production of the 2014 musical The Bridges of Madison County. With a timeless story, a lush, varied score, and riveting performances, Bridges absolutely repays the drive.

I think the minimalism and starkness is intended to be clarifying; we are meant to be focused on the hearts of the various intertwined stories Shakespeare presents, and perhaps less distracted by other things going on at the very large periphery the playwright has laid out. Whatever the purpose, we find ourselves deeply drawn in, so that by the time all the bodies bestrew the stage at the end, the horror and the catharsis of it all has not only engulfed us – but thrilled us as well.

So, by virtue of all of these elements this show is compleat in the senses fostered by the archaic spelling of the word, what Webster's renders as 'having all the necessary or desired elements or skills.' The characters, the music, the dancing, the lyrics, and the overall message are all new and different, even if deployed in the service of 'an old tale from way back when,' and they come accompanied by a message of inspiration in the midst of tragedy. A must-see.

The Sound Inside, by Adam Rapp, now gracing the boards at Baltimore's Everyman Theatre, is one of those all-too-rare plays that just bowls you over, even if, afterwards, you’re not quite sure where you’ve been during its bemusing 90 minutes.

The play doesn’t do either superficiality or depth well. And so a decent production like this (which Fells Point Corner Theatre provided) can still only go so far with it.

Families, sisterly conflicts, alienation from parents, suicidal tendencies, dissociation, nostalgia for childhood mingled with mature reevaluation of it: all these themes and tropes are universal. And audiences of all backgrounds should find this show about them quite relatable, not to mention intriguing.

Go See It! Join the enthralled cult! It’s for anyone who was ever a theater or choir kid. It’s for anyone who ever had a sexuality of any flavor whatsoever, or just even an inner life. It’s for the frustrated amateur metaphysician in each of us. And it is certainly for the amateur detective in each of us; the creators, Jacob Richmond and Brooke Maxwell, have sprinkled clues and non sequiturs everywhere for us to ponder.

We do get a sort of happy ending, but not with a gratifying round of absolution for everyone. In the complicated interplay of transgression and victimization, and in the face of the realities of life in a patriarchal and heterosexist society, almost everyone ends up wishing they’d deserved and received greater absolution. There reemerges what Morissette calls “common ground,” but everyone remains a work in progress. And it is still enough to send the audience out with eyes shining. It’s earned.

As the director says, this is a 'Black play that speaks to Black people and talks about Black shit.' But it allows larger audiences a chance to listen in to the conversation and laugh, if more gently, at the jokes. While not everything in the show is funny, much of it is irresistibly so.

You not only have to have the talent to do the technical side of costume drama well, and have actors who can emote convincingly and then (in this case) reverse gears convincingly, and then reverse gears again as many times as the script calls for. You need a script that doesn’t make them do it so often it makes the audience stop following and stop caring. That is a bar this script doesn't clear.

They sure don't write them like Holiday anymore. A play about the foibles of a family of rich White people that supplies no meaningful social or racial context, a critique of the world of wealth which is bafflingly superficial, and a romance almost lacking in visible courtship, playwright Philip Barry's 1928 Broadway hit has very little claim to be produced now. Yet it's given a sumptuous and impressive production by Arena Stage in Washington. Go for the performances, the costumes, and the direction, and you'll be fine. Seek more, and you may be disappointed.

There’s so much to like in Chesapeake Shakespeare Company’s current revival of Twelfth Night, a production that succeeds in big things and small, that I can’t imagine any spectator walking away unsatisfied. What did our critic think of TWELFTH NIGHT at Chesapeake Shakespeare Company?

Dated and flawed as I consider it, Sweet Charity is something of a landmark in the world of the American musical, and this rendition is admirable. And then there are those three big songs. You will definitely experience good times, fun and some laughs.

A well-made, stunning play, about racist mental hospital practices in the not very long-distant past, with four strongly-imagined characters and an explosive ending.

In the end, it is largely the combination of sensitively-selected detail and poetic diction on the one hand, and the big-picture view of various interlocked social problems that makes the show so extraordinary. In that big picture, the problems are too pervasive, too ingrained to surmount, and well-intentioned people trying to escape those problems will probably fail. In the end, the play suggests, we are much more the product of the forces that shaped us than of our own volition.

Babel, which invites us to contemplate a world, apparently in the near future, in which the human genome is so well understood that every person’s – and fetus’s – potential, including the potential for antisocial behavior – is determinable, and if a child cannot be “certified” while in utero as meeting the mandated genetic risk profile, the child will face lifelong legal discrimination thwarting most forms of career accomplishment. Abortion is freely available, and the resulting pressures to terminate pregnancies when a child is not certified are intense, as is the misery of potential parents whose gestating child is deemed uncertifiable, and probably a menace to society. We witness how these dynamics play out with two couples who are friends. Definitely recommended.

The play is an ungodly and irremediable mess, but it does demonstrate the importance of the proposition for which the central character was willing to put his career at risk, i.e., that more care needs to be taken, by industry and government alike, of secrets – their own and everyone else’s.

This is more a theater piece than a play, Caridad Svich's choral meditation on the plight of the earth and the humans who inhabit it.