What topic speaks more to the contemporary Bay Area scene than a massive technological success with roots in a garage in the Silicon Valley?  But an opera about Apple Computers co-founder Steve Jobs?  As it turns out, not only is he an excellent subject for an opera, but composer Mason Bates and librettist Mark Campbell push all the right buttons in creating a masterwork that has already grown legs.  And in the skilled hands of San Francisco Opera, the production excites and triumphs on every dimension.

Although co-commissioned by San Francisco Opera, its first production of “The (R)evolution of Steve Jobs” is occurring six years after the world premiere by commissioning partner Santa Fe Opera.  The pandemic disrupted San Francisco’s initial scheduling, but meanwhile, stagings by six other opera companies demonstrate the interest in this property.

Jobs would not be the subject of an opera were it not for his accomplishments and fame, but this is not a slavish paean.  He is depicted as a man of many contradictions – meditative yet restless; magnetic yet unapproachable; a Buddhist adherent yet emotionally brutal.  Above all, he had a single-minded drive for perfection, and his abrasiveness receives emphasis.  Among other targets of his perfectionist’s wrath, he repeatedly denigrates employees yelling “Wrong, wrong, wrong!” about everything from color samples to shapes of computer cases.

The composer’s music departs from opera standards but appeals as listenable and curious yet sophisticated.  Along with traditional acoustic instrumentation, Bates’ exotic interpretation integrates electronic elements such as key clicking, beeping, and whirring computer sounds which he personally manages on an Apple MacPro from the orchestra pit.

The outcome is lively and often pulsating, with extensive use of percussion including chimes and seven timpani drums.  Extending the notion of leitmotifs, each main character has a soundscape, most importantly, steel guitar for Jobs and slow, oceanic harmonies for wife Laurene.  Musical highlights occur when these modes overlap and clash, especially in the brief but well-crafted duets and trios.

Most patrons will be familiar with Apple’s successes.  The libretto looks at Jobs and Wozniak’s earliest forays into electronics through the iPhone introduction in 2007 as well as with Job’s personal relationships.  Rather than telling the story chronologically the libretto is radically non-linear with vignettes from the 1970s until Jobs’ death in 2011.  He even kibbitzes his own memorial which he criticizes on numerous grounds.

To Campbell’s great credit, not only do the vignettes work individually and cohere into a whole, but the narrative involves and grips the audience despite any foreknowledge.  And the lyrics complement the music nicely, often carrying the driving force that represents the title character.  Series of words that create powerful rhythms fleck the score, as when Jobs messianically introduces the iPhone at a conference, noting that it will “communicate, regulate, educate, stimulate….. “.   And he regales attendees with its ease of use – “tap to call, tap to read, tap to view, tap for pics…..”.

The cast is superb, starting with John Moore as Steve Jobs.  His portrayal as the icon is flawless.  His facial look, body type, gesticulations, and emotions are such convincing reflections as to transport the viewer into Jobs’ tempestuous world.  And he sings.  His warm baritone with rich vibrato suits the role well, but he also conveys Jobs’ rage while retaining vocal acuity.  Bille Bruley nicely captures the public perception of Steve Wozniak, the scientific mind behind the early Apple technologies who is submissive to Jobs’ marketing savvy and leadership.  A magnificent Sasha Cooke reprises her world premiere role and Grammy award winning performance as Laurene Jobs, the competent and confident wife.  Wei Wu as Job’s Buddhist spiritual advisor and Olivia Smith as high school girlfriend Chrisann also excel.

A final star is the staging.  Victoria Tzykun’s minimalistic, clean-lines set fits the topic well.  In addition to backwall panels, the set designer employs six large, movable modules that define space and act as screens for “59 Productions’s” front-lit projections that always manage to find their mark, no matter the location of the modules.  The choreography of the modules provides smooth transition from one scene to the next, while Japhy Weideman’s lighting yields accent and clarity.

Of course, there is more to Jobs’ story than can fit in a 95-minute opera, but a couple of notable items are given short shrift.  His firing from Apple is mentioned, but the 12-year interregnum before his return is not developed.  And though he rejected paternity of his out-of-wedlock daughter, Lisa, early on, his reconciliation could have been covered.  Another significant fact that may have affected Jobs that is not mentioned is that he was adopted at birth.  He knew from an early age that he was adopted but always considered the Jobs who raised him as his only parents.  He never sought to meet his birth parents, even though he knew their names.

“The (R)evolution of Steve Jobs,” composed by Mason Bates with libretto by Mark Campbell is produced by San Francisco Opera under co-commission with Santa Fe Opera and Seattle Opera, and plays at War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco, CA through October 7, 2023.

The subtitle of this play “Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive” suggests where it’s going.  But if you think that it may simply be misandristic, that wouldn’t be correct.  Given the crazy antics of these females who are close to the president, you could just as easily add the word dumbass in front of the word women.  In any case, the result is “POTUS,” a farce that had Berkeley Rep’s opening night audience laughing with glee from start to finish.

A never-seen president possesses the worst traits from a composite of recent U.S. commanders-in-chief, and the action centers on the women trying to create cover for him.  Early on, the omnium gatherum is comprised of the First Lady, three vital staff members, and a journalist, who are later joined by the president’s sister and what the play’s program calls “his dalliance.”

The triggering event is that president publicly referred to the First Lady as “cunty” (has anyone heard of that derivative?).  His Chief of Staff Harriet (played by Deidre Lovejoy) blithely seeks to dismiss it while Press Secretary Jean (Kim Blanck) scrambles to put a spin on the miscue, as she’ll have to deal with the press.  Meanwhile, all the women get into clashes and reveal their own wacko traits.

For instance, First Lady, Margaret (Stephanie Pope Lofgren), wants to be perceived as earthy, so she wears weird white, high-heeled Crocs that look stupid, especially with her dressy dresses.  Yet, she insists that all of her activities and accomplishments be repeatedly acknowledged publicly.    The president’s sister, Bernadette (Allison Guinn), is a goth who was a couple with Jean – that is, before Bernadette went to prison.  She is now on a short-fuse release to seek a pardon from her brother.

An incident that won’t be mentioned occurs at the end of Act 1, and women have to create cover for themselves.  However, the president’s secretary, Stephanie (Susan Lynskey), inadvertently swallows a psychotropic drug and frantically galivants in a bikini, making postures like a ninja warrior and asking where the ground is. And while the arrival of squeaky-voiced dalliance Dusty (Stephanie Styles) is unwelcomed, the group feels she will be easily dismissed, until they find that she won’t be easily dismissed.

Since the play’s narrative bursts with ridiculous situations that are not intended to be realistic, it gives rise to overwrought performances, full of shrieking, sarcasm, and silliness.  Nonetheless, a number of meaningful social and political issues surface.  The international political implications and the domino effect of the president’s crass “cunty” statement to a Bahraini contingent is discussed.  Presidents being tagged by the actions of their relatives arises.  The issue of the right of nursing mothers to express milk plays large as the journalist, Chris (Dominique Toney), seeks places in the White House to pump her breasts.  Abortion even takes the stage.  References to contemporary tropes like “the real brains in the White House” and “those around him will go down, but not POTUS” also appear. 

Director Annie Tippe’s production is top flight.  Andrew Boyce’s scenic design skillfully mimics the White House.  Yi Zhao’s lighting sparkles both in its varied illuminations and its decorative effect, from large scale Broadway bulbs for a singing performance by Dusty to picture lights above White House paintings.  Acting fulfills the demands of the roles.  The play can also be commended as one with an all-female cast that doesn’t seem like it is forced into that box.  It is a true ensemble, and I wouldn’t even have a guess which part had the most lines or which the fewest.

One philosophy of play criticism says that its purpose is to prevent people from going to an unworthy play.  But that notion doesn’t hold up well under examination.  When a play like this is popular with the audience but the critic dislikes it, the critic speaking in his/her own voice may dissuade people from going to something they would enjoy.

Now for the Minority Report.  So, the above review of “POTUS” is an accurate reflection that includes production elements that I appreciated plus objective descriptions which might be written by someone who actually enjoyed the play.  But farce tends to split audiences like few other genres.  Though I’ve enjoyed locally produced farces such as Corneille’s “The Liar,” “Noises Off,” and “One Man, Two Guvnors,” this one does not work for me.  Several other colleagues and acquaintances felt the same way, though one couple enjoyed it a lot for what it was.

I know there are alternate interpretations to acting the parts, but I wouldn’t fault the acting.  An unabated string of wise-cracking one-liners demands hyperenergetic overacting, which the actors deliver.  But the comedy is largely sophomoric, sometimes reduced to potty humor, and there is little pause to allow for lull and climax – no buildup of tension or involvement.

Finally, and noting that I’m no prude when it comes to language or content, I didn’t find the foul language offensive, but excessive and ultimately distracting.  It’s almost as if the playwright is more intent on showing that she can use the crassest obscenities rather than make them work.  How many times do female characters need to say “Get off my dick” before it wears out?  And while I have understood that women are very offended at the use of the word cunt, it is used liberally by this female playwright, though usually in the adjectival variation.  From my perspective, the script would work better with minor adjustments.

Getting back to philosophies of criticism, I often feel it is more important for a critic to disclose information that acts as guidance as to what kind of theatergoer is likely to like or likely to dislike a particular production.  Hopefully, that has come across.

“POTUS: Or Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive,” written by Selina Fillinger and produced by Berkeley Repertory Theatre, plays on its stage at 2025 Addison Street, Berkeley, CA through October 22, 2023.

When asked about how to cast “Il Trovatore,” San Francisco Opera Music Director Eun Sun Kim says you simply enlist the five greatest voices in the world.  Why such an extraordinary need?  It starts with roles that demand considerable vocal range.  Then what begins as beautifully lyric singing turns to highly dramatic.  And finally, a great deal of stamina is required, so that cuts are often made from the score to preserve the singers’ voices.  San Francisco Opera’s joint production with the Metropolitan Opera and the Lyric Opera of Chicago soars with stellar voices and stupendous staging.

Debuted in 1853, Verdi’s “Il Trovatore” stands in the middle of perhaps the greatest three opera sequence by any composer.  Preceded by “Rigoletto” and followed by “La Traviata,” all three are artistic masterpieces as well as crowd favorites.

Critics nitpick even the greatest works, and it is easy to criticize the “Il Trovatore” libretto.  Situations are unlikely, but this is not Logic 101.  Characters are rigid and obsessive, but that makes them passionate and vivid.  Revenge is taken to unworldly limits, but otherwise we would have pablum unfit for our viewing pleasure. 

Musically, themes and tones recur.  But that music!  Every phrase from beginning to end resonates melodically.  Memorable set pieces infuse the score.  With its urgency, intensity, and propulsive music, it is deservedly one of the most popular opera works in the repertory.  One oddity that is inconsistent with the passion in the action, however, is the extent of long stand-and-deliver arias even to otherwise empty stages.  The good news is that the three most prominent occur at the outset, before the emotion builds.

The title character is Manrico, a troubadour and leader of a Roma troupe.  Unbeknownst to anyone but his adoptive mother, he is of noble blood and the brother of his arch enemy, Count di Luna.  They contest not only in the communal and political world but for the love of a woman, Leonora.

Arturo Chacón-Cruz plays Manrico.  Other than the “Anvil Chorus,” which is known well beyond the opera circle, Manrico is endowed with the most famous and perhaps most challenging solo piece from the opera.  In the high tessitura cabaletta “Di quella pira,” (Of that pyre), he responds to learning that his mother, Azucena, will be burned at the stake, like her mother before her.  While the tenor’s voice is somewhat cloaked, he otherwise acquits himself well, as do baritone George Petean as the Count and bass Robert Pomakov as Ferrando, captain of the Count’s army.

But the emotional center of the opera and the more compelling vocal performances belong to the two leading women.  A spectacular soprano Angel Blue performs Leonora, a lady-in-waiting to the Princess of Aragon.  Although Leonora is of the noble class and is loved by Count di Luna, her love is for Manrico.  Verdi gives his soprano plenty to work with – trills, runs, and leaps, with great dynamics and an abundance of highly inflected vocalization.  Blue’s full tremolo and rich timbre fill the house throughout her range in both delicate and full throttle passages.

Yet the heart and viscera of “Il Trovatore” reside with the highly challenging and gutsy role, Azucena, a plum mezzo assignment.  She vowed revenge when di Luna’s father burned her mother at the stake.  An added tragedy was that Azucena accidently threw her own son into the fire that consumed her mother but then began her revenge by kidnapping the old Count’s other infant boy, who would become her adopted son Manrico.  Ekaterina Semenchuk represents the prototypical Azucena – magnetic, scenery chewing, anguished, intense, and with great vocal range able to make deep dives to her vocal bottom.

Eun Sun Kim conducts the orchestra with conviction, though instruments overpower singers on a couple of occasions.  Her brisk decisiveness is evident throughout but particularly notable in the “Anvil Chorus.”

The other star of the show is Charles Edward’s immense, imposing, and impressive set design under the overall stage direction of David McVicar.  Inspired by Spaniard Francisco Goya’s series of paintings “The Disasters of War,” an extract from the work which is the size of the proscenium arch is represented on a false curtain.  The set itself towers over the action, with a massive building wall probably 30 feet tall and a single-run, outside staircase running its height and width.  What’s more, this colossal structure rotates on the stage to reveal two more voluminous facings which are then customized to meet the needs of the respective scenes.

As expected from witnessing this great opera performed by this great company, San Francisco Opera’s “Il Trovatore” offers an outstanding evening of cultural enjoyment.

“Il Trovatore,” composed by Giuseppe Verdi with libretto by Salvadore Cammarano and based on the play by Antonio Garcia Gutierrez, is presented by San Francisco Opera and plays at War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco, CA through October 1, 2023.

What about that old adage that blood is thicker than water, which suggests that loyalties among blood relatives should be stronger than those between unrelated people?  Media and personal observation reveal an abundance of examples that belie that cliché.  A somewhat contrary notion suggests that despite growing up with the same immediate kin, the further apart siblings are born, the more they are raised in “different families.”  This premise relates to differences caused by birth order and the changed economic and social condition of the family as it evolves.

“Bald Sisters” is about the clash between two sisters dealing with funeral preparations for their deceased mother, with flashbacks to earlier days which flesh out the relationships among the three women.  Acting by all five actors is adept, and the San Jose Stage realization meets its typically high production standard.  While the script touches on interesting cross-cultural matters and deals well with a number of family crises, the conflicts simmer rather than sizzle or startle.  But along the way, the play is funny and thoughtful.

The title alone should intrigue anyone unfamiliar with the work, but it is quite literal and highlights a divide between the sisters.  Him, the name of the older daughter, is undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer and covers her hair loss with a scarf.  Sophea, the younger, has a new buzz cut in recognition of her mother’s passing. It represents the baldness of a Buddhist monk’s foregoing of worldly things.  (One can accept that many actresses would bristle at going with a completely nude pate).

If the name Him for a female raises eyebrows, the family is Cambodian.  The older daughter was born in their ancestral land, though the family immigrated to Dallas.  Unless the playwright simply wanted to highlight this name as reflecting a cultural difference, it is not clear why he chose a character name that in English contradicts the person’s gender.  Him does not appear among http://www.momjunction.com’s list of 176 Cambodian baby names, so there are many alternatives.   A further confusion – the mother is called Ma, but it is pronounced as in matter or mask.  So it is not clear whether this is the daughters’ idiosyncratic rendering of the English word or if it is the Cambodian proper name.

Anyway, Sophea was conceived in Cambodia and born in the U.S., but the father died before Ma and Him left the squalid conditions of refugee camps in Thailand.  These “different family” factors play into the underlying dynamic between the sisters.

Although she dies in the opening scene, Keiko Carreiro is an absolute scream as Ma.  Totally irreverent and uncensored, this drama queen is the show’s comic center.  She humorously dresses down her daughters by calling them bitches in her scratchy-squeaky voice and otherwise swears like a Marine.  But as much as she tells others what to do, she doesn’t reveal much about herself.  In fact, the girls know nothing about Ma’s expectations for death ceremonies or body treatment.  What’s more, she’s left no will.

Nicole Tung plays the understandably subdued Him, weakened and leaving the room frequently to vomit from reaction to the chemo treatments.  She is married to a white pastor, Nate, who is deftly portrayed as earnest but diffident by Will Sprinnghorn, Jr.  Given her Christian marriage and having stayed around Ma for the duration, she has proceeded on the basis that Ma would receive Christian burial rites.

Conversely, Sophea resettled to New York City and has not been seen in four years.  Believing that Ma would want to be treated in Buddhist death tradition, she bristles at Him’s dismissiveness about her ideas.  But Him has little confidence in Sophea and that she can do anything right.  Rinabeth Apostol performs as the wayward one who seethes and snarls. 

The final character, the lawn guy Seth, played by Zaya Kolia, has no strategic significance to the plot.  He does have his shining moment reciting a Syrian prayer, and he does act as diversion fodder elsewise.

While “Bald Sisters” doesn’t reach for much in terms of plot development, the situations and interactions do offer a rewarding experience.  Cultural and family matters are well depicted. One enrichment to the storytelling would be having hair and costume changes for the sisters in flashback sequences.

One final issue of note to some, unlike most all theaters that this reviewer has attended this year, San Jose Stage holds to the pandemic practice of offering no physical program – not even a one sheet listing of performers and artistic contributors.

“Bald Sisters,” written by Vichet Chum, is produced by San Jose Stage and plays at its theater at 490 South First Street, San Jose, CA through October 8, 2023.

With the backdrop of their grim, ghoulish, and ghostly digs, we hear the familiar repeated four-note melody and finger snapping of the Addams Family’s theme, and we know that we’re not in Kansas anymore.  In the tradition of the likes of “Rocky Horror Show,” “Beetlejuice,” and “La Cage aux Folles,” the intersection of conventional folks with the off-kilter provides for hilarity.  Novato Theater Company takes on the stage musical version of “The Addams Family” and presents a highly entertaining affair.

In case anyone doesn’t know, the macabre Addams family comprises a bizarre concoction of living, dead, and undecided in which normal human desires are largely perverted or inverted.  For instance, to accommodate wife Morticia’s desire to visit Paris, husband Gomez gleefully seeks to stay in the worst hotel he can find and to take her on the tour of the Paris sewer system (okay, real tourists actually do that as well!).  Their son, Pugsley, will try to obstruct his sister Wednesday from leaving the family home as he would miss her torturing him on the rack.  Get the picture?

The setup is that, despite her own aberrant lifestyle, Wednesday falls in love and wants to marry a “normal” boy, which Gomez protests.  On the family’s annual gravesite tribute (think Dia de los Muertos) they don’t just honor the deceased, but the ancestors emerge from their graves.  Uncle Fester will enlist the deceased to assist Gomez in hopes of terminating the lovers’ relationship when the boy and his family come for dinner.  Another hitch that becomes significant – Gomez doesn’t tell Morticia what’s afoot, which becomes part of the broader theme of full disclosure.

Of course, the play is full of dark and campy humor as well as clever songs, and the cast is fully up to the task.  Bruce Vierra plays Gomez with verve and joy.  Smiling and a bit conniving, he hits the right notes – and singing them as well.  Composer and lyricist Andrew Lippa has written a score of pleasant melodies and clever lyrics.  “Trapped” is one that is full of patter about the conundrum that Gomez faces with his daughter and wife, which Vierra delivers with great aplomb.

Morticia is performed delightfully by long-time Novato Theater favorite Alison Peltz.  Although in the prime of her life, Morticia shares many of the insecurities stereotyped to women.  Concerned about losing her youth, she even sings beautifully about death being “Just around the corner,” yet, when it’s time to turn up the sex quotient, she sizzles. But when she finds herself doing things that she swore she never would, she bemoans that “I’ve turned into my mother!”

The pivotal character however is Wednesday, a web of contradictions, played with dead-pan assurance by Harriette Pearl Fugitt.  Although good acting would be pretty sufficient in this role, Fugitt displays serious singing chops with incredible power and range.

“The Addams Family” bursts with sight gags, witticisms, and one-liners harking back to the prime of the Borscht Belt.  There is homage to early television with “To the moon, Alice,” and, concerning the mother who has long lived with Gomez and Morticia, “My mother?  I thought she was your mother!”  Although it is far from a morality play, a number of messages seep through.  Playwrights Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice do take occasional jabs that probably say something about their socio-political leanings, including the inadequacies of home schooling and the isolation of moderate right wingers.  And while it is easy to nitpick the script, it’s looking to make people laugh, and not provoke them intellectually as with a serious drama.

Marilyn Izdebski’s orchestration of the artistic contributions yields an appealing look and feel that speaks highly of what smaller theater companies can produce even without big budget production values.  Although the set is spare, the ancestors, all dressed in different white outfits with white face, often fill the stage and provide movement and great contrast to the living who are mostly in black.  All of the unmentioned principals play their parts well.  The singing is mostly very good and sometimes adequate.  One weakness on opening night was the Act 2 quartet, which sounded murky.  Otherwise, a good time was had by all.

“The Addams Family,” written by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice, with music and lyrics by Andrew Lippa, is produced by Novato Theater Company and plays on its stage at 5420 Nave Drive, Novato, CA through October 8, 2023.

Hats.  At times in European and American societies – de rigueur.  Other times – almost absent.  Often superfluous, sometimes functional.  Most hats today explicitly celebrate one’s tribe or experience.  The dominant form is the baseball cap, marked with the identity of, say, Aruba or St. Louis Cardinals or John Deere tractors.

Men’s styles have usually signaled conformity.  Picture strolling, stuffy London bankers all in bowler hats with umbrellas as walking sticks.  Recall black-and-white photos of the stands of baseball stadiums in the ‘50s with seas of men in near identical fedoras.  For women, distinguishing and often expensive hats have more often represented class and fashion.

But in no realm has the hat been more joyously and extravagantly donned than among church-going African-American women.  Playwright Regina Taylor has adapted the book “Crowns” to the stage, honoring these determined women.  She’s added a gospel-dominated song score to highlight the talent of the cast and energize patrons into hand clapping response.  The result is an energetic, audience-pleasing homage to African-American women and the hats that they wear.  But it is not a mere feel-good style show.  It also deals with social issues of the time and the tragedies that befall us all.

The show opens on a misdirect, with a teenage girl in Brooklyn performing a rap number.  We soon learn the setup.  Her brother has been murdered, and she is being sent to live with her grandmother in Darlington, South Carolina to avoid a similar fate.  So one of the threads of the narrative is the cross-cultural conflict of a northern urban girl moving to a small southern town.  Of course, she bridles at being surrounded by schoolmates with different, and what she considers backward ways, and by women of an older generation around her grandmother.

Mother Shaw, as the grandmother is known, is a paragon in the community.  She maintains standards and expects her new charge to fall in line.  One of those standards is wearing hats to church.  Like many of her peers, she doesn’t have one or two, but a collection.  One friend owns over 200, necessitating the use of storage at her sister’s house.

The practice of wearing hats derives from the notion of covering one’s head in the presence of the Lord in hopes of catching God’s eye.  But, oh, how they cover their heads!  Bright colors and radical shapes; brims as wide as shoulders; bonnets and dresses in the same material; feathers or fur, right down to having the head of a fox staring at whomever may be across from the wearer.  A woman could be barefoot and in rags but still shine with dignity because of her crown.

“Crowns” brims with laughter and pulls on the heartstrings, but lacking a linear plotline, it has no emotional build to a climax.  Its power comes largely from vignettes and from the ensemble of characters taking turns telling stories that revolve around their lives and the history of fighting oppression.  The wearing of hats as church finery plays significant in its own right, as in slave days, special garb would have to be hidden from the white masters.  The tradition continued, and especially when protesting for civil rights, headgear was off.

Many rules, both functional and social, apply to hat wearing.  One is that another’s hat is to be appreciated and respected, not to be envied or resented.  The special honor accorded hats is revealed in the funny story in which one of the women notes that she would lend her children out before her hats, observing that at least the children know their way home.

The cast of “Crowns” is full of strut and sass.  Each performer is funny and has a fine and powerful voice.  Each has “close ups,” and some numbers involve the whole cast, such as a vibrant version of “When the saints go marching in.”  One annoyance in the script is that characters are not appropriately identified.  Further, publicity materials don’t include songs and singers.  In order to give personal credit for songs or skits, the reviewer would have to work backward from press photos and have either powerful skill for memory or crack note taking.

One character, Mother Shaw, is identified in the show, and she is one of its anchors.  Juanita Harris portrays this gray eminence, and her voice is stunning, wailing in her upper range with clarity and penetration that really rings the bell.  Since Darryl V. Jones is the only male, it’s easy to identify him as “The Man,” who performs and sings with great skill in his many incarnations.  In addition, each of the other cast members (Janelle LaSalle, Constance Jewell Lopez, Antonia Reed, Erica Richardson, and Phaedra Tillery-Boughton) conveys the enjoyment of bringing this rousing play to the audience.

“Crowns” is written by Regina Taylor from the book of the same name by Michael Cunningham and Craig Marberry; produced by Center Repertory Company; and plays at Lesher Center for the Arts, 1601 Civic Drive, Walnut Creek, CA through October 6, 2023.

William Shakespeare’s play about star-crossed lovers was not the seminal work in its genre, but it is far and away the most profound and influential work of its kind, diminishing all pale imitators.  Encompassing young love, warring factions, intermittent humor, and tragic death, its obvious grist for opera has prompted many efforts to adapt the masterpiece to the musical stage.

Of all operatic realizations, none compete with the accomplishment of Charles Gounod’s “Romeo et Juliet.”  The style of the lush and romantic French language version was à la mode at its debut in 1867.  Unlike many operas that draw from literary sources, its libretto hews closely to the original, capturing the drama intended by the playwright.  Along with its fitting and beautiful music, many regard it among the greatest of the Shakespearian operas.  Together with “Faust,” also taken from classic literature, this represents Gounod’s most accomplished and beloved work.

A rubric of many critics is that vital plot points should not be revealed in a review, but exceptions are allowed for classics, especially Shakespeare.  In this case, the prologue telegraphs the outcome, eliminating the element of surprise.  The lead photo herein depicts the climactic death scene of the lovers, but of course, you know that happens.  In sum, the Capulet and Montague families are mortal enemies and members of each clan are killed by the other.  The two lovers from the feuding families defy family strictures, and through tragic miscalculation they separately take their own lives.

Opera San Jose’s interpretation of “Romeo and Juliet” benefits from a passel of principals that are youthful enough to represent the roles they perform.  What’s more, they bring their characters to life with great aplomb – singing and acting with exceptional skill.  Despite the lack of surprise, the passion and anticipation make for a compelling drama.

The cast is led by Melissa Sondhi whose light lyric soprano suits the role of Juliet well.  Juliet’s signature, and the most famous music from the opera, is her Act 1 aria about her lack of interest in marriage “Je veux vivre dans la rêve” (I want to live in dreams).  She conquers its coloratura runs with delight and conviction.  By Act 4, her voice has loosened and darkened, yielding an equally persuasive and more dramatic “Amour ranime mon courage” (Love drives my courage).

Tenor Joshua Sanders plays Romeo.  Given his vocal skill, it surprises that this is his first lead role in an opera.  Although his character is more active than Juliet’s, with sword fights and confrontations, Romeo is not given as much in the way of solo highlights.  However, Sanders masters the Act 2 aria “Ah! Lève-toi soleil” (Rise, sun), with his trademark tremolo and slightly twangy Italianate vocal style.  He also sings admirably in his street scenes and in the four wonderful duets with Juliet, which are largely written in one-singer-at-a-time style, but some contain charmingly complex polyphonic quodlibets.  Although the tessitura of Romeo’s role is not high overall, he navigates the higher sections with particular skill and clarity.

“Romeo and Juliet” teems with distinctive secondary principals, and several will be mentioned, although all are accomplished.  Two that die young and early in the action are Bay Area stalwarts that always acquit themselves laudably.  Clarion tenor Alex Boyer is Tybalt, and warm and versatile baritone Efraín Solís is Mercutio.  Courtney Miller as Juliet’s nurse Gertrude not only provides comic relief, but an admirable mezzo voice.  Robert Balonek as Count Capulet once again demonstrates an uncommonly powerful and well-tuned instrument and acting skill that transitions from ebullient to grim over the course of the drama.  Finally, the distinguished Kenneth Kellogg performs the cameo role of the Duke of Verona with great command and gravitas.

The opera’s narrative is more than a simple love story.  It is about the tragic consequences of irrational tribalism; the inevitability of fate (though most would dispute that “fate” exists); the notion that love may cause unintended and undesired consequences; and the importance of time and timing in the affairs of humankind.  Of course, one of the central issues concerns Juliet’s rebellion from being forced to marry Paris in order to solidify a political alliance.  This aspect resonates much differently today than in the time of the original play or the opera, as women’s agency over marriage decisions has become accepted in many societies.

Opera San Jose has added a thematic dimension in the unsung portion of the prologue.  After the clans engage in sword fighting, children make believe they are doing the same – sadly conveying the notion of violence being transmitted from one generation to another by example.

Another interesting aspect of OSJ’s production is Antara Bhardwaj’s Indian-influenced dance choreographed to Gounod’s ballet sequences. One that doesn’t enhance the viewing experience is the set design, which seems driven more by budget than artistry.  The same inexplicable vine covered backdrops appear through the first three acts and become a bedroom wall in Act 4.  The simple and static nature of the set creates a more concert-version sense of the production.  Happily, the book, the score, and performances make for a highly entertaining experience. 

“Romeo and Juliet,” composed by Charles-François Gounod; with libretto by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré; and based on William Shakespeare’s play of the same name is produced by Opera San Jose and presented at California Theatre, 345 South 1^st Street, San Jose, CA through September 24, 2023.

First there was music.  In modern times, the African-American community’s involvement in most American music genres has ranged from highly influential to dominant to seminal.  Its contributions have been profound and often overwhelming in jazz, blues, gospel, rhythm and blues, rock and roll, and rap and all their descendants, to name a few.  Black invention has led to similar innovations in dance – tap, swing, twist, disco, hip-hop, and their many derivatives.  But it wasn’t until 1971 that African-American music and dance received a national platform to broadcast their deserved exposure.  That platform was “Soul Train,” which would run in syndication for 35 years, a record for live performance on American television.

“Hippest Trip: The Soul Train Musical” is playwright Dominique Morisseau’s homage not only to “Soul Train” itself, but also to its creator and longtime host, Don Cornelius.  The result is an admixture of upbeat music and dance integrated with a serious, warts-and-all biography of a complex man obsessed with the lifelong goal of presenting Black youth in a positive light and securing his legacy as its architect.  For the greater part, the concept works, and the musical entertains.  However, the considerable devotion to dance and the occasionally wandering script sometimes impede the buildup of involvement.

The production values of “Hippest Trip” offer a cornucopia of eye and ear candy, and the performers give memorable performances.  From the first number, the dancers undulate their bodies, shake their booties, and twirl their appendages in a non-stop display of fine artistry.  The opening night audience showed wild appreciation at the conclusion, though there could have been a little positive bias, given an abundance of audience members associated with the TV show and the musical.

Quentin Earl Darrington totally inhabits the role of the imperious, buttoned-down Cornelius, whose single-mindedness and impersonality often isolates him from the people who matter to him.  His unwillingness to accept advice from anyone, most often from his longtime assistant, Pam Brown and his son Tony, who worked for him, agonizes even those closest to him.   Acknowledging his own personal and professional shortcomings, Don sadly notes, “The Wiz is just a man.”  Indeed, one of the powerful elements of Morisseau’s script concerns the difference between the public and private individual, observing that many people in the public eye do not have fairytale lives and suffer behind the scenes.

Like many of the cast, Darrington brings singing chops to the table as well, with a smooth natural baritone as well as a clarion upper register in the falsetto range.  As the more light-hearted yet grounded Pam Brown, the talented Amber Iman counterpoints her boss with a warm, concerned personality and the gumption to confront and sass Cornelius.  She, too, boasts a fine singing voice which drew raves from the crowd.

Of course, music is the foundation of dance, and the score is full of hits that played on “Soul Train” during its era.  Much of the emotion created is through the song selection and performance.  Many are represented by small fragments, but some even recur and have thematic significance.  Such is the case with “Smiling Faces” which addresses hypocrisy and is used to cast aspersions at Dick Clark, who was Cornelius’s nemesis.

Despite its energy, the show doesn’t really gain desired traction until the finale of Act 1, which is a fine rendition of “I Will Survive” sung by several performers.  The momentum created survives intermission, and the highly charged Act 2 is both rousing and poignant.  Interestingly, the key song sung by Cornelius at the climax which pulls at the heartstrings doesn’t fit in the wheelhouse of the “Soul Train” songbook, but is Bachrach and David’s “Walk On By.”

Emmy winning Scenic Designer Jason Sherwood’s set adds another dimension to the musical, contributing to the period look.  As shown in the opening photo of this review, the stage is brilliantly framed as if in an old television box.  Large serpentines with electronic displays extend onto the walls of the orchestra and onto its ceiling, creating a spectacular look like you have never seen in a theater.

Multiple Tony nominee Camille A. Brown’s choreography is breathtaking in its volume and complex design within its idiom.  Dancers deliver with personality, boundless energy, and consummate skill.  However, several issues are of concern, which may derive from writing or direction.  What surprises is that the dance numbers don’t emulate “Soul Train,” so that the sense of the TV show is not well developed.  In addition, the specific dance styles lack sufficient contrast to the untrained eye.  When representing the ‘70s, dancers use detailed gesticulations that were not yet in use, seeming to value virtuosity over authenticity.  Little distinction is shown for variations such as disco.  There is no slow dancing, and the TV show’s famous line dancing (if that’s what is intended in some of the dance solos) is not introduced in the narrative or clearly represented.  While “Soul Train” had couples dancing, the production numbers are in corps style.  Particularly to older observers, the styling may seem repetitive and may diminish the interest over time.

Like Morisseau’s “Ain’t Too Proud,” this production hopes to move from a premiere in the Bay Area to Broadway.  “Hippest Trip” contains many assets including great execution, but tweaking a few conceptual matters might enhance its chances to shine even more.

“Hippest Trip: The Soul Train Musical” is written by Dominque Morisseau, directed by Kamilah Forbes, presented by American Conservatory Theater, and plays at the Toni Rembe Theater, 415 Geary Street, San Francisco, CA through October 8, 2023.