What motivates people to enter academe, that is, seek to become university professors?  There are those who wish to be teachers of the highest order, shaping the minds of tomorrows leaders.  There are those who (very naively) seek a soft lifestyle with short working hours and summers off.  Finally, there are those who see themselves as scholars, researchers pushing back the boundaries of knowledge.

What does not drive the academic career choice is love of money.  Even those academic fields that demand much higher pay than the norm can in no way compete with the private sector for financial packages.  But in the reality of becoming adults, probably with mortgages to pay and families to care for, financial exigencies emerge. Those who have sought the research route in academe find that financial reward and adulation correlate highly with research achievement.

Playwright Madhuri Shekar exposes the pressure to publish in her compelling fictional drama “Queen.”  Two research assistants at University of California Santa Cruz in 2017 have spent six years researching colony collapse disorder (CCD), or the extinction of beehives and their resident bees.  While much academic research adds little value to the lives of human beings, this lengthy study has mammoth implications, as the bulk of the world’s food chain depends on the work of bees. Anecdotal evidence and the researchers’ first several data studies point to the chemical neonicotinoid, and particularly the products of the environmentalists’ whipping boy, Monsanto.

Though good friends, the assistants are chalk and cheese.  Ariel Spiegel is played as fun loving and effusive by Kjerstine Rose Anderson, while Sanam Srinivasan is played with caution and concern by Uma Paranjpe.  Central Valley bred, Ariel is the only researcher in the field who comes from an apiculture background, though her family lost their small business, and she is of limited means.  She is a single mom who has sacrificed marriage to stay in this study and notes “Who am I without this work?”.  Sanam is Indian, from wealth, and her specialty is statistical modeling rather than the content area of the research.  Still single, she comes from the tradition of arranged marriage.

The women’s paper on the findings is to be published in the scientific journal “Nature,” and their professor, Dr. Philip Hayes (Mike Ryan) is set to receive an award because of the study.  But “Nature” had asked for one more experiment, and this one has not conformed to previous findings to the extent that the overall findings are now insignificant.  Conflict emerges as Ariel, who is wholly invested in this study and this content area, believes there must be a way to present the data favorably, as government policy will be influenced by it.  Sanam believes in the sanctity of the modeling.  Anderson demonstrates her rage and passion, while Paranjpe shows her reserve.

The play opens as a comedy and turns largely to drama as the women’s positions diverge, a switch that both women handle well.  As Dr. Hayes, Ryan, also shows different sides of his personality as he is poised for professional recognition.  Supportive and jocular at first, he then strikes what seems to be a bulldog-like, edgy, demanding “just get it done” posture in the manner of a Godfather-type who leaves no paper trail or fingerprints.  What is he really saying?

The X factor is Arvind, a potential arranged match for Sanam.  As Arvind, Deven Kolluri chews the scenery with his narcissism, pompousness, and flippancy.  A New York financial derivatives trader and high stakes poker player, he assumes that marriage is a done deal, proceeding with self-indulgent expectations and denigration of Sanam’s poorly-remunerated work.  But Arvind is also a statistical modeler, and in this capacity, he introduces a technique that might show the experimental results in a better light, though the procedure is of dubious validity and integrity.

Several further twists take place adding to the dramatic uncertainty.  The narrative totally engages the audience, and the production is top notch with great performances on a schematic set by Nina Ball and directed by Miriam A. Laube.  At one level, the play concerns personal values that drive us, and at another it deals with making and sustaining relationships – between friends, prospective marriage partners, and mentor/mentees.

But the hallmark of the play is about the practice of science and its integrity and objectivity.  The playwright questions the principles of those who do not abide by the strictures of scientific practice and method.  Indeed, in real life, media reports about misrepresenting the results of studies, or worse yet, forging data, are disheartening.  However, exploitation and sensationalism bias should be recognized.  It is only the exceptions that are newsworthy and gain the public’s attention, not the overwhelming abidance with proper practice.

The script depicts research issues with great skill, but it contains a fair bit of technical matter that will be lost on much of the audience. They undoubtedly do get the overarching issues.  One particular issue that gets passing mention in the script deserves discussion.  (If this reviewer’s credibility on the following matter is in question, I do have a PhD and was a professor who published over 40 peer-reviewed research papers using statistical methodology).

The probabilistic method that calculates the statistical likelihood of a hypothesis being true is derived scientifically.  The statistical matter of concern in this play is that after the last data collection that overall test results no longer met the .05 alpha value, a measure that means that the findings from the study are 95% likely to be true.  The problem is that the .05 threshold is totally human-selected and arbitrary.  Why shouldn’t the passing mark be .01 (99% likely true) or .10 (90% likely true)?  Why would the 90% likelihood that neonicotinoids cause CCD be inadequate but a 95% likelihood be accepted as rock solid?  There is no scientific answer.  As a footnote, however, the EPA instituted various bans on neonicotinoids starting in 2019.

“Queen,” written by Madhuri Shekar, is produced by TheatreWorks Silicon Valley and plays at Lucie Stern Theatre, 1305 Middlefield Road, Palo Alto, CA through March 31, 2024.

“Back in the day” professional sports players were chattel.  Three major trends changed the landscape.  The U.S. Supreme Court rejected St. Louis Cardinals star Curt Flood’s challenge to Major League Baseball’s reserve clause but the pressure and momentum from the suit shifted more influence to the players.  Secondly, players’ associations yielded collective bargaining power to athletes which far exceeded their individual influence.  Finally, the employment of business agents gave players intermediaries with negotiating skills, analytical expertise, and legal knowledge.

In time, numerous agents would become famous and powerful, and their clients would share a huge chunk of the riches previously appropriated by the franchise owners.  Although agents seem unlikely subjects for the performance world, the movie “Jerry Maguire” somewhat dispelled that notion, as Tom Cruise played an agent who improbably gained morality.

Against this backdrop comes the taut stage dramedy “King Liz,” which is given a rousing and highly entertaining rendering by City Lights.  The play flows, driven by interesting characters and situations, with equal parts of humor, crassness, and dramatic situations.

Few industries have traditionally been as male-dominated and macho as professional sports.  Along comes Liz Rico (note that rico in Spanish can mean rich, tasty, or sexy – all apply!), a Black-Hispanic who rose from the projects to graduate from Yale.  She had taken a job as an assistant to a male sports agent in a startup business.  Fast forward twenty-two years to the time of the play, and she is one of the most successful basketball agents in the business.

Damaris Divito is Liz, and in the highest reviewer compliment, she is totally convincing and captivating in the role.  Divito captures Liz’s confidence and decisiveness and unswerving commitment to her profession, including her foregoing a family.  Her charisma and ability to persuade, despite not being a people person, doesn’t hurt.  But she can also be self-absorbed and callous to the point of meanness, as when she denies her assistant an extra ten minutes for lunch.

The owner of the agency, Mr. Candy, assigns a new prospect to Liz, Freddie Luna, who is rated the number one high school basketball player in the country.  From the projects of Red Hook Brooklyn, he shares ethnic and socio-economic history with Liz.  But he also comes with baggage.  He had spent six months in juvenal detention for violent attacks.  His sensitivity about the incident and his hair-trigger temper will continue to haunt him.  Davied Morales is at the top of his game in this complex portrayal of a troubled but talented young man.

“King Liz” deals with a number of professional and social issues.  The play’s title clearly marks the turf as a gender battle, and despite her success, Liz does have some sexist issues to deal with.  But much of the conflict she faces is gender-free.  It concerns loyalty and integrity.  She acknowledges that “I lie, I cheat, I steal,” but is there a time at which she must consider values other than money and power?  How does this caviar loving woman relate to a young man with basic instincts fresh from the hood?

The NBA is a graveyard for young men with athletic ability but without the maturity and commitment to meet its demands.  The play even mentions the real-life tragedy of Len Bias, the number two overall pick in the 1986 draft, who died two days after being drafted from a cocaine overdose.

What should society expect from a youth like Freddie, who, just out of high school is thrown into the national spotlight and given a pile of money?  What should or can the young man’s handlers do to ensure that he doesn’t undermine his “brand,” his health, and his emotional future?  When a kid is used to hangin’ with his homies, how do you get him used to treating a professional schedule and his important adult obligations with thoughtfulness and seriousness?

Both Divito and Morales give bravura performances, dispensing sharp dialogue with great verve.  They are supported by a talented supporting cast.  Alycia Adame is Gabby, Liz’s highly competent assistant with a classic subordinate’s personality who wouldn’t be expected to rise in the ranks.  Ray Renati is the ebullient but concerned Mr. Candy, who must decide who should run the agency upon his retirement.  Fred Pitts is Coach Jones who didn’t want to draft Freddie and who has a conflicted relationship with Liz.  Finally, Caitlin Papp is Barbara Flowers, a television journalist who has agreed to give Freddie a powder puff interview in hopes of helping his marketability for prospective endorsements.

The creative elements add to the effect – Ron Gasparinetti’s clean lined scenery, Carsten Koester’s sharp lighting, and George Psarras’s detailed soundtrack.  However, for those who don’t like hip-hop, you’ll have to put your fingers in your ears every once in a while.

Overall, the production excels, and credit Director Kinan Valdez.  One point for discussion however is that while the lead roles are well grounded in their archetypes, Mr. Candy, Gabby, and Coach are highly interpretive parts.  They often seem silly in this rendering, which adds to the comic side of the piece.  It is not clear whether these characterizations are specified by the playwright’s stage directions, but it would be interesting to see these parts played straight up to give the play more realism and dramatic heft.

“King Liz,” written by Fernanda Coppel, is produced by City Lights Theater Company, and plays on its stage at 529 South 2^nd Street, San Jose, CA through April 21, 2024.

Many events in the life of a mother can be distressing.  Among the most is when her child’s very public actions come into conflict with the mother’s values and jeopardize the child’s future…..

Dominique Morisseau has become one of the most distinguished playwrights of her generation.  A MacArthur Fellowship (“Genius Grant”) winner, she made her mark with her Detroit Project trilogy, which focuses on the Black community in her Michigan hometown.  She followed the last of those three plays with “Pipeline.”  Like its predecessors, this play exudes insight and power.  African-American Shakespeare’s L. Peter Callender-directed production totally enthralls as it extracts every bit of relevance and urgency from the taut and compelling script.

The title of the play derives from the tragic arc that many Black boys and young men follow.  Numerous studies have established that Black children in schools are subjected to more disciplinary measures than Whites and that their punishment is more extreme.  In the past, virtually all school conflicts were adjudicated by the school administration.  In recent decades, administrators have often turned to the police to intervene.  The consequence is that many Black males have been arrested and charged for behaviors in school before they have become men.  The taint of arrests and missed classes impacts their ability or desire to complete school and their employability, leading to the school-to-prison pipeline.

Black, divorced, single parent Nya teaches in a high school that her son Omari would attend if he were to go to public school.  Leontyne Mbele-Mbong is Nya, and she gives an exquisite, nuanced performance.  As one would expect from an aspirational teacher who also acts as a role model, her rage is as controlled and disciplined as her arguments.

Her son, Omari (Atlantis Clay), is bright and able to compete intellectually in a selective private boarding school, but he suffers social/psychological isolation and has had some deportment problems.  When we meet him, he is with his girlfriend Jasmine (Ije Success).  The scene seems out of place until we find through Jasmine that the damning incident of Omari’s pushing a teacher has been video recorded and has been posted on the Internet.

As a mother, Nya’s instinct is to protect her only child.  As a teacher, she feels strongly about civil rules that allow schools and all of society to function properly, even over Omari’s protestations that he was provoked by a biased teacher who made insinuating connections between Omari and the character Bigger from Richard Wright’s novel “Native Son.”

Nya’s ex, Xavier (Michael Gene Sullivan), is prosperous, and both parents are committed to giving their son all of the tools for success, including the private schooling.  Nya’s ambivalence, humility, and problem-solving approach in dealing with a possibly life-altering incident is countered by her ex, Xavier.  Morisseau delineates his character with unflattering precision.

Xavier’s power-based approach and certainty about the right courses of action is matched by the likelihood that his actions will have the opposite effect intended.  We see in his relationship with Omari the classic responsible, but absentee, father.  The checks and birthday presents are always on time, but he lacks a drop of human compassion, which may have led to the marital split as well.  And when it comes to blame, Xavier lays it on anyone but himself.

A subplot acts as a cross current.  In the classroom of a White teacher, Lauri (Kelly Rinehart), a violent fight takes place.  According to the security officer Dun (Gary Moore), protocol suggests that a teacher should always stay clear of the fray and only call security.  But when faced with a brutal struggle that could lead to serious injury or worse, should the teacher stand by or take action, and if so, what? The luxury of reflection does not exist.

In an intense 95 minutes, the playwright surfaces a number of universal relationship as well as racial issues.  Parents often feel accountable about how their children have been reared, and Nya feels guilt about whatever failings Omari manifests.  She also feels protective, knowing that as a young Black man his mere presence and innocent actions can be perceived by Whites as too this or too that.  And unlike Xavier, she is willing to make personal sacrifices for her son.

From the opening video projections of violence in schools involving police, this production offers a chilling reminder of our country’s failure to create social harmony and a fair playing field for all of our people.  Unfortunately, the play provides no answers other than to suggest that there is much work to be done.

Fortunately, the production is graced with an ensemble of exceptional actors who bring veracity and passion to their roles.  Giulio C. Perrone’s set design is appropriately simple and leaves it to the words of the playwright and the delivery of the actors to instill the meaning.

Interestingly, the highly regarded film “The Hate U Give” was developed contemporaneously to “Pipeline.” For those interested in different perspectives on similar issues, it covers some of the same concerns and is recommended as a companion piece.  Both note how Whites can often misunderstand and miscommunicate with Blacks, sometimes insulting with or without intention.  Each deals with the lifelong risks of simply being Black and the code of silence in not betraying one of their kind to authorities, despite adverse consequences.  Finally, they deal with the cost that may be associated with taking responsibility, whether Black or White. 

“Pipeline” written by Dominique Morisseau, is produced by African-American Shakespeare Company, and plays at War Memorial Veterans Building, 401 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco, CA through March 31, 2024.

From 1886, the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor has stood as a beacon for immigration to the United States with its welcoming inscription from poet Emma Lazarus, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”  Warmly admired by most Americans, its neighbor, the storied Ellis Island served as an efficient processing station for millions of European immigrants, unrestricted from entry until World War I.

Apart from the Asian-American community, many Bay Area residents, and some others along the West Coast, relatively few people are aware of Ellis Island’s counterpart, Angel Island in the San Francisco Bay.  From 1890, it served to reject applicants from Asia rather than welcome them, especially through enforcement of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 and its successors.  Unambiguously racist, these laws prohibited immigration of any Chinese person except for those who could successfully claim that they were spouses or progeny of American citizens.  Ellis Island processed the incoming briskly, but detention at Angel Island lasted days, sometimes months, and up to two years.

While playwright Lloyd Suh’s “The Far Country” is fiction, its gripping depiction of history, incidents, and characters might well be considered a stellar exemplar for events of its time, which spans from 1909 to 1930.  The play engages from opening curtain, thoroughly engrossing as it invades the sympathetic sensibilities of the audience.

In scene one, Fyodor Chin offers a magnetic tour de force performance that sets the stage for the whole play.  As Gee, a Chinese man resident in San Francisco, he wishes to travel to China, purportedly to bring his son to the United States.  He lacks proof of his right to be in the United States, and all of the immigration and naturalization records generated at Angel Island were destroyed by the 1906 San Francisco earthquake.  The restrictions of the Exclusion Act compounded by the loss of records spawned a massive cottage industry, with Chinese like Gee concocting elaborate origin stories in hopes of gaining permanence in “Gold Mountain,” as the U.S. was known in China.

Interrogators at Angel Island used devious methods to try to expose elaborate hoaxes by seeking fine detail like how many steps at the front door of an applicant’s house in China, and what material, what color, and what texture they possess.  They often repeated questions at a later time and sought corroboration from others who should have had the same answers, even if it’s information most people would not know to begin with.

Gee’s interrogators appear heartless and clearly inclined to reject his application, as the extent of fraudulent misrepresentation they confront from men like him is profound.  As Gee, Chin deals with these challenges unflappably.  Ebullient, constantly smiling, and flailing his arms, the interrogators fail to pierce his practiced confidence.

The central thread of the narrative is Gee’s wanting to recruit a teen in China who can act as his fictitious son and who will pay to become indentured to Gee and his laundry business in San Francisco’s Chinatown.  That target is Moon Gyet, played by Tommy Bo, who must also memorize a script compatible with the stories of his presumptive father.

Along the way, Moon Gyet will also confront a prospective wife of convenience, Yuen, who is played playfully, sassily, inquisitively, and assertively by Sharon Shao.  Led by Yuen’s constant badgering about what kind of relationship they would have (sex included?), the two find tremendous humor in their simple exchanges, producing one of the several effective and unexpected tone shifts in the drama.  In other scenes with changes in dramatic tension, Gee will reveal two personality transformations that not only enrich Chin’s characterization, but add to the kudos his acting deserves.

One of Moon Gyet’s revelations is that Chinese immigrants never see the Gold Mountain that they dream of but that he believes exists.  He speaks of the crowding, the loneliness, the bad food, and the implied caging of the Chinese in their ghetto because of the prejudices of white society.  So why do they come?  Part of the stereotyping of Chinese is that they are patient, sacrificing, and forward looking.  In this case, the adventuresome believe that theirs is the first step in a long march that will eventually benefit their descendants.

“The Far Country” unfortunately rings true in many ways.  And in fairness, it is not just the white Americans whose integrity is impugned but also the Chinese.  Ultimately, however, the optimism for a better world does come through.

The story compels, and the striking artistic elements directed by Jennifer Chang enhance its telling in many ways.  Notwithstanding the play’s assets, the closure does contain an excess of earnestness.  There are other weaknesses like the excessive exposition about the conditions of detention.  Even that is presented in an artistic manner with dim lighting and constant movement of anonymous characters who describe the strictures.

An annoyance is that translators’ commentary overlaps the principal speakers to make dialogue harder to hear.  Supertitles could be employed, or translators could use indistinct low mumbling when the main characters are speaking so that the audience understands the process without disrupting the primary conversation.  Despite any minor criticisms, the play offers a powerful and memorable experience that is recommended for all theater audiences.

“The Far Country,” written by Lloyd Suh, is produced by Berkeley Repertory Theatre and plays on its stage at 2025 Addison Street, Berkeley, CA through April 14, 2024.