These days, honeymoons don’t carry great significance or cachet.  With all of the various forms of relationships that have replaced traditional courtship and marriage, the notion of consummation on the wedding night is not what it used to be.  Such was not the case in 1930, when Noël Coward’s Private Lives premiered – nearly 100 years ago!

Coward’s works are quintessentially British, and this comedy of manners, or bad manners, is no exception. When well directed and acted, the humor does hold up, even if the social conventions don’t.  American Conservatory Theater can always be expected to mount a professional production, and this one strikes all the right notes.  The actors in this four-hander are uniformly funny and make the most of the material.

As British as it is, the action of the original takes place in Deauville and Paris, as honeymoons are special occasions that upper-class Brits would likely celebrate on the continent.  ACT has chosen a production in which the lovers are from Buenos Aires, with the action relocated to Mar del Plata, a seaside resort in Argentina, and then Montevideo, Uruguay.   Argentina was one of the wealthiest countries in the world then, and much of their life styles would have been similar to the British.

In this winsome production, considerable humor draws from pantomime rather than words, and two non-verbal emphases draw from the relocation to Latin America.  A recurring theme is the tango, which was born in Buenos Aires, and the music and dance do add considerable flair.  The other is the use of pretend bullfighting by one couple when they are bored by the other pair.

Otherwise, there is nothing suggestive of the Latin venue.  What is significant but unmentioned by the company however is that the director, all of the actors, and many of the creatives are Latine.  Director KJ Sanchez has drawn on this pool of acting talent in various productions and locales, so that they are almost like a family or a traveling troupe.

The essence of Private Lives is that Elyot and Amanda had been married for three years and divorced for five.  They have both just remarried, and lo and behold, on their honeymoons they espy each other on their adjoining terraces at their honeymoon hotel.  What a coincidence!  Obviously, this happenstance is grist for their interaction and the question of whether they would reunite as a couple or not, and it is not long before they test out the idea.

Elyot comes from money but revolts against many of the social conventions that his class embraces, though he does draw the line when it comes to male prerogatives.  Hugo E. Carbajal delights as Elyot, capturing his flippancy and silliness.  He mugs and shimmies and flops and beseeches to great effect.  He is also volatile and clearly still has a love-hate relationship with his former wife.

Amanda is Sarita Ocón, and she is the perfect match for Carbajal as is Amanda for Elyot.  Ocón shares the same gift for pantomime.  Her broad, whole-body, comic movement with flailing arms and legs reminiscent of Steve Martin always draws laughs.  Amanda is hot-blooded as well, and no shrinking violet when it comes to standing up to her man, as Ocón does with great verve.  She’ll have none of this male chauvinism that allows a man the liberty of peccadillos but scorns a woman for the same action.

The wronged, younger new spouses are the perky but quick to cry Gianna DiGregorio Rivera as Sibyl and the proper but quick to challenge offenses Brady Morales-Woolery as Victor.  Sibyl is a more traditional trophy wife, sexy and shallow, while Victor is the formal and intellectual type.  But as Elyot and Amanda test out their revived relationship, the other two become an odd-couple team of sorts as well.  Both actors are strong in their roles.

As a popular and well-respected play, Private Lives has been subjected to all manner of intellectual dissection.  Analysts have tried to frame it as fitting models concerning the likes of social mores, women’s rights, and theater of the absurd. None of that appears to have been the playwright’s intention.  In fact, a weakness in the minds of some more serious theater goers might be that the sub-text is weak, and the play lacks redeeming social value.  Whether or not – it does provide an evening of fun and laughter.

Private Lives, written by Noël Coward is produced by American Conservatory Theater and plays at Toni Rembe Theater, 415 Geary Street, San Francisco, CA through October 6, 2024.

Those of us with any literary bent who have spent most of our lives in the 20^th century will be familiar with the theme of political dystopia.  Among the notable works and their distinguished authors to deal with the subject are It Couldn’t Happen Here (1935) by Sinclair Lewis; Animal Farm (1945) and 1984 (1949) by George Orwell; and The Handmaid’s Tale (1985) by Margaret Atwood.  These works provoke intellectual contemplation and elicit caution, but we Americans were convinced that “it couldn’t happen here.”

Events of recent years suggest otherwise – movements to have state governments dictate women’s reproductive behavior; to fund parochial schools with tax dollars; to force the Bible into public school curriculum; to ban books; to threaten political opponents with incarceration; to stifle voting rights from one part of the political spectrum; and to institutionalize lying in a Machiavellian manner all lead down the totalitarian path presciently predictive by these authors.

San Francisco Opera takes on this seldom produced but highly intense work which debuted in 2000 at a particularly poignant time in our nation’s history.  Its rendering exudes artistic excellence in the production of the complex music; conquering the challenging vocal tract; and depicting the austere regimentation of the dystopian world.  That said, not everyone will appreciate it.  The narrative crushes the spirit without significant relief, making the storyline a cultural experience valued for its provocation and learning rather than for pleasure.  The music ably reflects the story, and it does provide interest.

The oft adapted The Handmaid’s Tale chills with its societal strictures, philosophically based on the notion of “freedom from…” rather than our cherished “freedom to…”  Set in the near future, the nation of Gilead has replaced the United States, as Christian fundamentalists overpowered the elected government and replaced civil rights with pernicious patriarchy and rules derived from The Ten Commandments, a veritable corollary to the Taliban.

The rigidity of society is evidenced in the staging with its visual austerity and regularity.  The set largely appears in two dimensions with a dominance of straight lines and right angles, with an absence of capricious humanity.   Several classes of denizens wear specified garb to comply with regulations.  The titular handmaids, who function as mobile wombs to breed babies for infertile wives, are dressed in red with white caps or winged cornettes as headpieces.  In the misogynistic society, their members are named after their current master, the central character being Offred, i.e., the sexual slave “of Fred.”

Poul Ruders’s weighty music conforms with the abrasiveness of the society and helps maintain suspense.  Its modernist form is largely atonal and mostly harsh. Dissonance often derives from clashing musical lines that run simultaneously and disharmoniously.  The building of saturated sound to crescendos and the frequent thumping of bass drums from the five percussionists (!) in the orchestra produce tension, while other (literal) bells and whistles add to the effect.  Slight musical relief comes from periodic religious themes, including phrases from “Amazing Grace” and a lighter touch at the brothel that services men from the upper reaches.  Conductor Karen Kamensek does a fine job of orchestrating the extremely complex score which requires two heavy tomes to explicate.

Mezzo-soprano Irene Roberts is Offred, who, like many handmaids, was trapped into duty and would like to escape, knowing that failure to produce children or violating rules can lead to being sent to the “colonies” or to execution.  A recurring visual is the appearance of women who have been hanged, as a constant reminder of consequences of misdeeds.

Roberts carries a big load but with commensurate skill.  The singing style is dramatic, and taxing to her voice and listener’s ear.  She does have a couple of arias, but the closest vocal to being mellifluous is a fantasy set piece in a close harmony duet that she sings with “herself” – that is, her representation from “the time before” her being captured.  In flashbacks, pre-and-post coup characterizations of the same individual often occur at the same time.

The other noteworthy vocals belong to Sarah Cambidge as Aunt Lydia, aunts being militaristic authority figures.  She runs the Red Centre, which is the training ground for handmaids.  In the prologue, Cambidge is challenged to significant and shrill singing with a tessitura high in the soprano range, which she accomplishes with great skill.

Opera audiences are pretty inured to occasional death and destruction, but The Handmaid’s Tale contains an abundance of many forms of violence plus almost constant repression.  And what other opera acts as such a salient cautionary tale?

The Handmaid’s Tale, composed by Poul Ruders with libretto by Paul Bentley and based on the novel of the same name by Margaret Atwood, is produced by San Francisco Opera and plays at War Memorial Opera House at 301 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco, CA through October 1, 2024.

‘Tis the season of the flute. Opera San José offers an innovative, artistically skillful, and highly entertaining production of the mystical opera The Magic Flute (Die Zauberflöte) that should please the full range of patrons from opera aficionados to novices, as it retains the magnificent essential elements while making it highly accessible and understandable.

The Magic Flute presents great opportunity for interpretation, and the Bay Area benefits from a surfeit of contrasting productions of the opera this year.  In addition to Opera San José’s splendid rendering, San Francisco Opera radically depicted it as if from the silent film era, using a large flat screen as its canvas and projecting the spoken words as if intertitles from an early film.  Soon to come is Berkeley Repertory’s Matchbox Magic Flute, which abbreviates and adapts the work into a form more akin to a stage musical.

As may be construed from these variations, few works in the opera canon are as interpretable as The Magic Flute, not only in how it can be produced, but in what one makes of all of the known and assumed symbols and characters.  Because composer and librettist were both Freemasons, many connections (and disconnects) can be inferred from initiation practices in the opera.  And because Mozart was Austrian, assumptions may be made that the Queen of the Night represents Maria Theresa and so forth.

In the central plot, Prince Tamino, falls in love with a picture of the Queen of the Night’s daughter, Pamina, who is held captive by High Priest Sarastro.  The Queen commits the daughter’s hand to Tamino if he can release Pamina from the Queen’s enemy.  The Queen’s bird-catcher Papageno, who also longs for a wife, is enlisted to accompany Tamino on the quest.  But Tamino, upon contact, finds Sarastro’s religion appealing and is given the opportunity for induction into the priesthood and to secure Pamina if he passes three trials.

Although there are clear periods of both solemnity and humor in the libretto, the overall dramatic tone can be manipulated to anything from somber and self-important to light-hearted and fairytale-like.  Opera San José has chosen the winsome latter appealing approach with an abundance of humanity and frivolity, and it succeeds by all measures.

The lightness achieved in this production begins with the comic flair of much of the acting, particularly of the genial Ricardo José Rivera as the flighty everyman Papageno whose greatest aspiration is simply to relax and enjoy a filling meal.  The Three Ladies who collectively act as saviors, facilitators, and provocateurs add a delightful touch with their prodding and probing humor.  The comedy extends as well to the overture and other interludes, where considerable pantomime and dance brighten the stage, much of it delivered by charming child performers.

Flute is actually a singspiel with considerable spoken dialog, and here, the company has taken great liberties with mirthful “translations” into English.  In one instance, when Papageno’s mouth is padlocked so that he can’t tell lies, the text delivered is “Wouldn’t it be nice if all liars had locks on their mouths?”  On opening night, the current political intimation was not lost on the audience, and raucous laughter was punctuated by considerable spontaneous applause.

Ryan McGettigan’s stunning scenic design plays a significant role.  In Act 1, the set is comprised largely of pastel, two-dimensional cartoon-like sets that reflect the more carefree earlier period of the opera.  An extreme contrast occurs with the more ominous and challenging Act 2.  In large measure, the set is a modified black box with neon light framing that intensifies the drama of the latter portions of the narrative.

Of course, for all of this to work, the intriguing but sometimes opaque libretto must be supported by fine music, and who better to provide richly melodious and complex compositions than Mozart.  The work sustains interest well until post-climax, when the libretto drags.

Oddly, other than Papageno’s recurring riffs, the most memorable music is given to secondary principals.  Most notable is the Queen of the Night’s aria.  Emily Misch is developing a career on this role as she conquers the challenging coloratura ornamentation with great ease.  Another highlight “O Isis und Osiris,” Sarastro’s deep bass aria that Younggwang Park fully negotiates, but his volume does diminish on the low end.

Conversely, lyric tenor Sergio González who suits the lead role of Tamino well, uses vocal clarity and dynamics effectively, though his controlled pianissimos are sometimes barely audible.  Melissa Sondhi turns in a fine performance as Pamina with her agility and lyric tone.  A real pleasure is the beautiful tight harmonies of the Three Ladies (Maria Brea, Melissa Bonetti Luna, and Mariya Kaganskaya) – and they are important to the plot.  But if the opera belongs to one performer, it is Rivera.  As good as his character definition is, his easy baritone warms every lyric it expresses.

A significant event in this performance is the return of 19-year-old Alma Deutscher at the baton, this time conducting a work that she did not compose.  She was first here at age 14 for the U.S. premiere of her opera Cinderella and has established quite a strategic partnership with the company.  The orchestra performed with admirable tone and precision under her decisive conducting. Kudos also to Director Brad Dalton who brings all of the glorious stage elements together in this sensational production.

The Magic Flute, composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart with libretto by Emanuel Schikaneder is produced by Opera San José and plays at the California Theatre, 345 South 1^st Street, San Jose, CA through September 29, 2024.

[For the remainder of the year, my San Jose and Peninsula reviews will be posted on Talkin’ Broadway with only introductions to those reviews on this site]

Please continue to https://talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/sanjose/sj259.html for full review.

Lynn Ahrens (book and lyrics) and Stephen Flaherty (music) set the award-winning Broadway musical Once on this Island on a fictitious former French colony in the Caribbean.  The island’s population splits, with the prosperous grands hommes lighter-skinned mulattos who were spawned from inter-mating with French settlers on one side and the “black as night” peasants on the other.  Hence, we have another dimension of bigotry within a population, the color of skin.

With a nod to The Little Mermaid, peasant girl Ti Moune (played by Shaneen Black) finds a dying young grand homme Daniel (Edie Flores) who has been in an accident.  Her father, Tonton Julian (JM Appleby) represents a viewpoint about life and death in which he suggests that she let the young man die.   In her effort to slowly nurse Daniel back to health, she enters a bargain with the Demon of Death, Papa Ge (John Ramirez), that she offers her life in return for saving his.  Daniel survives, and though he and Ti Moune fall in love, Daniel returns to his previous life, whereupon conflicts emerge.

This 90-minute drama offers many pleasures.  The story itself engages, with some touching moments.  Much of it is told in charming songs, with all of the ensemble taking the lead at one time or another.  The songs range from the hopeful and loving “Forever Yours” to the recognition of the two different worlds the communities live in (“We Dance”) to the cynical “Some Girls,” which notes the asymmetry in sexual relations, as males often take advantage of females for whom they have no serious intentions.  This is yet another of several moral issues which underpin the narrative.

*****

Once on this Island runs through October 13, 2024 at Pear Theatre, 1110 La Avenida, Mountain View, CA.  For tickets and information, please visit www.thepear.org. 

Exquisite music remarkably performed by principals, chorus, and orchestra to tantalize the ears.  A colorful and tragic plot based on real history to provoke the mind.  Dazzling staging to please the eyes.  What’s not to like about San Francisco Opera’s production of Giuseppe Verdi’s Un Ballo in Maschera.

Like much 19^th century Italian opera, Ballo suffered birthing pains because of censorship.  Popular with the masses but not with nobles, Gustavus III of Sweden, who is the focal character of Ballo, was assassinated in 1792.  But to placate the censors, Verdi re-set the story to Colonial America, a rare venue for opera in its era.  Today, many companies, including San Francisco Opera use the originally intended setting.

In the central thread, Gustavus and Amelia love one another, but she is married to his best friend and military chief Renato.  The furtive couple’s love is unconsummated, but when discovered in a rendezvous, Renato’s fury leads him ultimately to regicide.

While it lacks the number of memorable set pieces of Verdi’s fertile middle period trio, Rigoletto, Il Trovatore, and La Traviata, the 1859 score of Ballo teems with uncommon innovation and rare Verdi eclecticism.  The first bit of genius is its rare balance of drama with comedy.

Throughout, the page Oscar is a flighty, humorous figure, but his shenanigans don’t disrupt the overall tone.  Performed with spritely charm and precise soprano voice by Mei Gui Zhang, Oscar is a trousers role, a device that Verdi deplored.  One possible reason for this exception was to create vocal balance.  Another is that this was a code of the sort often employed to subvert censors.  In real life, Gustavus was a flamboyant bisexual, and placing the Oscar character close to him implies that by indirection.

Ballo brims with beautiful and complex ensembles from duets to quintets with and without chorus.  Yet, many aficionados would be surprised at the near absence of love duets in Verdi’s canon, a much later exception being Otello’s “Già nella notte densa” (“Now in the dark night”).  However, that and Ballo’s passionate “Teco io sto…Non sai tu” (“I am with you…Don’t you know”) when the couple meet in Act 2 make up for the otherwise absence.

As Gustavus, world-acclaimed tenor Michael Fabiano brings his burnished, dark-hued, and penetrating tenor to the fore throughout and particularly in the duet.  Lianna Haroutounian is Amelia who here and elsewhere demonstrates why she also is famed, in her case for her spinto versatility and agility that contribute to both the great dramatic and lyric demands of her role.

Although Verdi had eased away from the rigid conventions of bel canto in his middle period, he does revert here to some cavatina-cabaletta set pieces like the just mentioned, as well as some coloratura.  Integrating an additional style, some of his lighter music from Act 1 and the ballet from Act 3 reflect his experience in mid-century French opera form, which he had applied in Les Vêpres Siciliennes. 

Renato turns from ally to antagonist upon finding that his wife and the king are in love.  Meanwhile, gathered conspirators who seek to assassinate Gustavus taunt Renato with their “laughing” chorus “Va’ se di notte qui colla sposa” (“If you are here at night with your bride”).  Mongolian baritone Amartuvshin Enkhbat makes his SF Opera debut as Renato and offers a deep resonant voice that fills the house, especially in his signature aria “Eri tu” (“It was you”) which bemoans Gustavus’s betrayal.

The fifth key principal, Ulrica the fortuneteller, foresees the assassination by the next person who shakes the king’s hand, but whose prediction Gustavus rebuffs.  Judit Kutasi brings her strong presence and electrifying mezzo to the fore as Ulrica with shrieking highs and drops to depth charge lows that animate the memorable character.

Apart from the principals, both Eun Sun Kim’s orchestra and John Keene’s chorus are formidable.  Director Leo Muscato is responsible for the overall presentation, and some of the elements of Federica Parolini’s staging are particularly striking.  Although the setting seems prosaic early on, the purplish-lit, steam-infused field where the tryst and assassination conspiracy occur stands out.  The final scene reveals the revolving stage that had cleverly been in use throughout, but what sets that scene apart is Silvia Aymonino’s stunning costumery with the chorus in black-and-white ball garb and the dancers in varied bright dress.  In all, the combination of artistic elements supports the full breath of Verdi’s music and results in a totally compelling opera.

Un Ballo in Maschera, composed by Giuseppe Verdi, with libretto by Antonio Somma, is produced by San Francisco Opera and plays at War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco, CA through September 27, 2024.

Before getting to the bulk of my review that actually requires time, thought, and other effort, let me start by saying that the Berkeley Playhouse production of The Prom is scintillating, heartfelt, and ultimately uplifting.  That in itself is a bit of a spoiler, but probably most people who will attend this wonderful musical have advance knowledge of the story and go because of thematic interest or its widespread reputation.

Some shows seem to connect with cast and creatives in such a way that their inspiration drives them to heights, and this appears to be such a case, as the show hits on all cylinders.  There are an incredible number of moving parts, and Co-Directors Christina Lazo and Megan McGrath assemble them with great skill.  And granted that the opening night audience was stocked with friends, family, and other partisans, but even allowing for the anticipated positive bias, the whole crowd went wild for The Prom.

What disturbs about the plotline is that other than shifting the venue from the real Fulton, Mississippi to the fictional Edgewater, Indiana and some other choices made for dramatic effect, the essence is a true story.  In the musical version, a couple of Broadway performers suffer the closure of their show after opening night.  Their manager notes that the reason for the failure is that they are unlikeable, because they are such narcissists.  Although they argue that narcissism is ubiquitous among entertainers, they decide to try to do something highly visible that will portray them in a less self-indulgent light.

Culling through various options, the actors learn about a girl in Indiana whose high school cancels its prom because the espoused lesbian student plans to attend with another girl as her date.  Along with their manager (played by Billy Raphael) and two other acting colleagues (played by Mary Kalita and Jaron Vesely), the Broadway denizens descend upon the conservative Indiana town to save the day for Emma, the victim of the discrimination.  Their objective is nicely articulated in the song “It’s Not About Me” which also reveals that the well-intended interlopers are bumptious and clueless.

The magnetism of the two actors as Broadway performers drives the show.  As Dee Dee Allen, Taylor Bartolucci captures every bit of the character’s glamor and adulation-seeking self-absorption.  Every time she considers doing something generous, she pulls back as a hand from a flame.  Bartolucci has the goods with her self-centered, well-acted comedy.  Plus, she can sing a tune or two.

The Barry Glickman character fits East Bay theater stalwart DC Scarpelli like a glove.  Perhaps it’s my imagination, but he seems to blossom with the liberation of flashy dressing and playing a flamboyant gay role.  Unlike Dee Dee, he conveys a warmth and connection and becomes a bit of a big-brother figure to Emma, who is well-portrayed and beautifully sung by Arri Toshiko Glenn.

Any narrative demands conflict and resolution, and the PTA provides the focal point of resistance to the beau geste.  What is truly sad is the extent of ignorance and hate that many people have for others who are not like them.  In this case, the meanness and subterfuge used to beat down innocents for simply being themselves is mortifying.

Despite the clashes, The Prom manages to be joyous.  The pop music is peppy throughout but can be quite moving as in the engrossing “Unruly Heart” with the focal message ‘I’m who I am, And I think that’s worth fighting for.’   The plentiful foot-stomping dance co-choreographed by the co-directors doing double-duty energizes the audience.  The two directors are quite a team.  Finally, all of the creative elements, including set design (Sarah Phykitt), lighting (Amy Abad), sound (Joshua Price), and costumery (Andrea Gorham) integrate successfully.  Music Director Daniel Alley and the orchestra deserve a nod as well.

The narrative also has depth, as it deals with life’s issues.  It touches on themes about growing up and about being different.  It especially addresses conformity and bullying.  Agency is also a concern.  At what point should parents stop forcing values on children and let them stand morally on their own?  Ultimately, it condemns bigotry and reminds putative followers of Christ who dominate the community in question of his embrace of The Golden Rule.

The Prom with book by Chad Beguelin & Bob Martin, music by Matthew Sklar, and lyrics by Chad Beguelin is produced by Berkeley Playhouse and plays at the Julia Morgan Theater, 2640 College Ave., Berkeley, CA through October 13, 2024.

Few artists have the breadth of talent and deserve the success of Mel Brooks.  His sophisticatedly raucous, multidimensional comedy embraces visual and verbal humor steeped in cultural and social issues.  His palette dabbles in a wide coloration of material to include hilarities such as Blazing Saddles (westerns), The Producers (Broadway), Spaceballs (space adventure), High Anxiety (psychiatry), and of course, Young Frankenstein (horror).  And though he is known for his zaniness as a script writer and director, many comedy admirers don’t realize that Brooks composes music and writes lyrics for most of the original songs in his works.

Sonoma Arts Live takes on one of these masterpieces, the stage musical of Young Frankenstein and delivers the goods in a boisterous, fast-paced entertainment.  Director Larry Williams’s performers seem to enjoy themselves, and that happy contagion spreads to the audience.

Although Brooks’s plays and movies are dominated by genre parody, this one conspicuously draws on specific previous material, albeit adding its own literary license.  The central character, Dr. Frederick Frankenstein, is an American academic scientist invited to the family’s castle in Transylvania, where his infamous grandfather had created “The Monster.”  The setup is that Frederick sees the opportunity to correct his grandfather’s flawed work by recreating a monster but giving him human intelligence.  All does not go as planned.

With a thin but adequate plotline, interest and narrative thrust must be generated by the personalities of the players.  Happily, Brooks has invested them with quirky attributes and memorable lines, so that the play entertains throughout when well done.  Apart from routine jokes and schtick, the script brims with bawdy double entendres, so that when we hear the passionate moan “Oh, sweet mystery of life,” from offstage, we know whereof the lady speaks.  Or when Frankenstein says “What knockers!” it’s clear that he’s not referring to the two rings on the door that are rapped to announce one’s arrival.

Offering charm and a wry, durable smile, often prompted by irony, frustration, or error, Michael Bauer takes on the role of Frederick.  He also brings a fine singing voice.  Although it is used to good effect throughout, it is most fun when he engages in long patters concerning gray matter in “There is Nothing Like the Brain.”  He deals with numerous predictable but well-executed pratfalls.

One gag is the classic from the haunted house genre in which he and his sometimes yodeling and always distracting assistant Inga (Emma Sutherland) get caught in a swiveling bookcase in the castle that fronts a hidden chamber.  Another is when he is to go into a room with The Monster and gives the instructions “Do not open this door no matter how much you hear me scream.”  Unsurprisingly, he does scream and desperately does want the door opened.

Young Frankenstein is full of other wackos, all of whom are performed with great zest.  First up is Frederick’s American fiancée, Elizabeth, who teems with self-indulgence, and Joanna Lynn Bert totally gets her character.  She flounces about with a pasted-on smile of condescending confidence.  Her aloofness is captured by her perfect nail fetish and her song and dance “Please Don’t Touch Me,” which also displays Bert’s great singing voice and range.

Two castle characters add to the hilarity.  Pat Barr portrays Igor, the black-draped, hooded servant with a dragging leg and a hunched back in which the hump inexplicably appears on one side and later on the other.  Then there is the tight lipped, scowling Frau Blucher, played with dominatrix-like relish by Kim Williams.  So strong is the Frau’s disturbing aura that horses outside whinny at the mere mention of her name. The great comic actor Bruce Viera also contributes as the militaristic inspector with the hilarious uncontrollable mechanical arm.

Finally, there is Todd Krish as The Monster.  Even when limited to grunts and groans, his depiction generates interest, and when blessed with language, he is quite droll and captivating, especially when repeatedly fracturing the lyric “Puttin’ on the Ritz” in his singing duet.

Creative elements add to this fine community theater production.  The small stage constrains scenarios that want to allow for wandering, but the director utilizes elements beyond the stage that work during and between scenes.  Carl Jordan’s scenery is simple but appropriate. Among other notable effects, Frank Sarubbi’s lighting and Albert Casselhoff’s sound fill out the staging nicely.

Young Frankenstein based on Mary Shelly’s novels, with book by Thomas Meehan & Mel Brooks, music and lyrics by Mel Brooks, and produced by Sonoma Arts Live plays at Sonoma Community Center, 276 East Napa Street, Sonoma, CA through September 22, 2024.

The motivation of “4 Guys Named José…and Una Mujer Named Maria!” is very straight forward, to celebrate the rich history of Latin American music and dance.  The paper-thin wrapper for the narrative sets the unexpected stage in Omaha, Nebraska where four young Latino men pine for their traditions and for romance.  Each is named José, and each draws on a heritage rich in music and considerable social presence in the United States – Mexico, Puerto Rico, Cuba, and Dominican Republic.  In walks an unknown Maria, and what ensues are bits of 47 songs from the Latin American songbook. 

Hispanic Latin America is quite remarkable in many ways.  Nowhere else in the world is there such a concentration of land mass and countries that speak one language and draw primarily on the mix of two cultures – Spain and various Native American peoples, with an admixture of African influence as well, especially realized in music and dance.  From the southern border of the United States to Tierra del Fuego, 14 continental countries and a number of Caribbean islands fit this classification.

The United States set standards for new popular music and dance in the 20^th century, but Latin America followed, exceeding Europe and the rest of the world.  Among the dance innovations were the tango, cha cha, meringue, samba, cumbia, mambo, salsa. No doubt, you can think of more.

The 6^th Street Playhouse production of this jukebox musical is lighthearted and nostalgic for those with a connection to the music and the cultures.  The opening night audience was fired up by partisans, though clearly there are ifs and buts with the play and the production.

Driven by a very charming cast, the action speeds by so that the 90 minutes of stage time goes very quickly.  Despite the Josés receiving first billing in the title, Maria is the center of the show, and Reilly Milton brings skills and energy to the role.  From her opening with the classic “Perfidia,” her strong and consistent stage-musical style singing stands out.  Her dancing also excels, especially with expressive use of hands to add to the overall movement effect (the men tend to emphasize hips).  Her enduring smile engages, and her well-tuned comic skills are essential to the success of the production.

Songs run the gamut from revised traditionals like the Cuban patriotic “Guantanamera” and the Mexican folk dance and romance “La Bamba” to original rock-pop like the Puerto Rican “Living la Vida Loca” and the Cuban-American “Conga.”  But the best sounds come from the harmonies of “Amor” and the fine medley of great music – “Sway,” ”Quizas, Quizas, Quizas,” and “Besame Mucho.”

Music Director Nate Riebli extracts fantastic Latin sound and depth from a band of only three instruments.  Importantly, the drum and piano rhythms capture the groove that drives Latin dance and enhances Choreographer (and Stage Director) Erin Rose Solorio’s dance numbers, which are generally performed with confidence, flair, and occasional over-the-top hamming-it-up.  Other creative elements such as diverse costumery (Adriana Gutierrez) and varied lighting (April George) add to the appeal.

The greatest need for improvement in the production is the singing of the Josés.  Jonathen Blue generally meets the standard, and the others have moments, but not enough.  Sometimes singing is weak, non-melodious sounding, and even off key.  Despite amplification, voices often lack sufficient power.

Several omissions from the musical itself limit its breadth and perhaps its appeal.  Although Maria is the focal character, she is the only female performer.  This concept could work well with an equal number of males and females in the cast, and it would appear less sexist.

While the Josés are named by their differing origins, little in the narrative differentiates the four cultures.  A sequence of four “Nostalgia Songs” represents the different places the José’s families were from, but the songs drag and don’t distinguish. The threads that bind Latin communities together are generally expressed as family, love, song, and dance, but the first three in particular are pretty generic.

Perhaps younger people of Latin extraction relate to the whole repertoire in the show.  But with rare exception, theatrical success depends on satisfying typical theater goers, and a larger proportion of selections familiar to that group would help.  Finally, there is one song involving Carmen Miranda topped by her typical fruited headpiece, but otherwise the whole Latin Brazilian canon is ignored, as is the Jamaican and other non-Spanish sources of song.

Hopefully, the weaker elements of the production are attributable to opening night jitters and technical glitches that will be sorted out, as there is much to enjoy in the show.

“4 Guys Named José…and Una Mujer Named Maria!” is conceived by David Coffman and Dolores Prida, with book by Dolores Prida, is produced by 6^th Street Playhouse and plays on its stage at 52 West 6^th Street, Santa Rosa, CA through September 22, 2024.

Author Eric Pfeffinger’s metaphor posits that America’s political opposites live on different sides of a vast canyon, interacting only by accident.  Their beliefs and even perception of facts differ.  Extending the analogy, the red tribe believes the blue to be dangerous parasites preying on the accomplishments of the rich, and the blue tribe believes the red to be impoverishing, self-indulgents preying on the undercompensated vital inputs from workers.  Identity politics and identity religious beliefs exacerbate the gulf and impede gradations of viewpoints from arising.

In the playwright’s brutally thoughtful comedy “Human Error,” prototypical couples of each political persuasion are brought together through an accident in which the saved embryo of the liberal pair is implanted in the wife of the conservative pair.  Forced to deal with this existential catastrophe, the two couples try to build a relationship.  Town Hall’s production captivates from curtain up to curtain down with razor-sharp acting and staging enhancements that make for a richly entertaining experience.

Theater going is dominated by audiences with a liberal bent, but Pfeffinger is smart enough to know that simply making the conservative pair punching bags for liberal tropes wouldn’t make for good theater.  Yet that is how the narrative begins.  Even when the conservative woman bearing the unintended embryo says to the other couple, “I’m doing this for you,” the liberal-minded onlooker has to wonder what’s up.  Is the carrier duping the owners of the embryo into believing that the baby will be delivered to them upon birth, or does she really mean that she is bringing it into the world for them, but that she is going to keep it?  Trust from one couple to the other is nowhere to be found.

Flannery Mays captures the anti-religious, disillusioned, and unsympathetic yoga teacher Madelyn.  We want to relate to her and like her as we respect her values.  But she is uncommonly aggressive, uncompromising, and rude.  Perhaps the moment when we want to banish her from our club is when she reveals that she doesn’t want having a baby to affect her lifestyle.  “I want to have a kid, but I don’t want to be a mother.”

From the start, we don’t like Heather, played with exacting and convincing glibness by Melody Payne.  She seems a housework-loving cipher, with a shallow, simplistic view of the world, but with three sons, she does know a thing or two about raising children.

Unlike Madelyn’s unvarnished candor, however, the playwright endows the conservative Christian Heather with sneaky introspection and complexity.  Her zenith is when she foists Madelyn on her own petard.  Late in the pregnancy, Madelyn is furious to learn that Heather is pro-life, but DUH!!!  Madelyn attributes Heather’s carrying the fetus to term to political beliefs that Madelyn can’t abide.  But Heather cleverly traps Madelyn into an argument in which the latter’s position concerning the pregnancy is not driven by pro-choice “it’s my body” integrity, but concerns of property ownership.

The one character that is a cardboard cutout is Heather’s husband Jim, portrayed with unrelenting bumptiousness and self-centeredness by Kyle Goldman.  A crass, classless, NRA-card-carrying small business owner, he’s an exemplar of just the type of guy that a liberal man would not want to be around.  And his identity characterization extends to being a rabid Ohio State fan, even though he never went to the school.  Though he identifies with the religious convictions of his community, he doesn’t seem to really share them, as regular church attendance doesn’t play a role in his life.

Jim is the insistent type that wants others to want the same things that he does, and he’s constantly bugging Keenan, Madelyn’s husband, to see his rifle collection, appreciate his massive home entertainment system, and such.  Of course, Keenan is the cerebral type with no interest in such things, and Mark Anthony fills his shoes well.   Fittingly, he is an academic researcher on humor in entertainment, and his primary thesis concerns the effect that humor has on dividing societies, a compelling thought that most of us probably have not considered.

So where does this all go?  Humorous and conflictual incidents amass.  Positions of parties shift.  And curious and unanticipated turns take place with the pregnancy.  The constant is the bumbling Dr. Hoskins, whose lab is responsible for the mix-up.  The character is acted with appropriate antic humility and stuttering, plus evasive and nervous-smiling apprehension by John Charles Quimpo.

Director Richard Perez pushes all the right buttons, supported by creative designers like Adrian Gilstrap for lighting and Michael Kelly for sound. The play and production succeed in finding great humor and touching moments in a topic of grave importance and questions political and social imperatives.  It’s a great combination of thought provoking and fun.

“Human Error,” written by Eric Pfeffinger is produced by Town Hall Theatre Company and plays on its stage at 3535 School Street, Lafayette, CA through September 14, 2024.