The Constitution of the United States, drafted in 1787 and ratified on March 4, 1789, became the touchstone for democracy and egalitarianism around the world.  Embracing the tenets of Enlightenment philosophers such as John Locke, David Hume, and Charles Montesquieu and building on the Magna Carta and other European political documents, it was long the model of democratic rule.  It should be noted that many consider the U.S. Constitution ossified.  Though other democratic constitutions around the world are now viewed as better models, it’s hard to imagine constructing a constitution without first analyzing this seminal document.

Yet, its deficiencies were anticipated by many and almost immediately recognized by most.  No sooner was the ink dry on the Constitution than the Bill of Rights was drawn and ratified on December 15, 1791.  While the Constitution established the form of government, the Bill of Rights deals with the rights of individuals.  The application and interpretation of these first 10 amendments together with the Emancipation (from slavery) Amendments (numbers 13, 14, and 15) provide the grist for most Constitutional cases of great significance.

As a teen, Heidi Schreck became focused on the greatness of the U.S. Constitution, and she was able to win prize money that paid for much of her college education by competing in contests about the Constitution, many sponsored by American Legion chapters.  As an adult, she began to lecture on the Constitution, and the ultimate evolution became the 2017 play What the Constitution Means to Me, which she has frequently performed in as well.  Play, playwright, and performer have all been highly decorated.

One structural conceit of the play is that Schreck is sometimes represented as the high school debater she was, and sometimes as the contemporary woman she is.  In Hillbarn’s production, she is portrayed by Kimberley Donovan who gives an absolutely command performance – riveting, intensely enthusiastic, and totally committed to the importance of the Constitution.  Her arms flail, her eyes pop, and her voice soars with authenticity as she celebrates the good fortune of the United States.

Of course, the Constitution covers a lot of territory, but Schreck zeroes in on those aspects that have the most meaning to her, which have great resonance, nay, foreboding, in today’s environment.  Those are rights of women, citizenship, and residency, which lead to discussions of contemporary interest such as Roe v. Wade and the impact of its overturn; birthright and naturalized citizenship; and rights of immigrants and non-citizens.  The problem is that even when the Constitution gets it right, the Supreme Court has become so politicized, that rulings arise in which the interpretation required to support the decisions defies rational thinking.

We see that as a teen, Schreck is totally enamored of the Constitution, and Donovan practically bursts with excitement over it.  But as Schreck matures, she sees its bias.  The rights embedded in the original Constitution applied not just to men, but only to men of property.  She notes that the word woman does not even appear in the original document, and even the 19^th Amendment which gives women the right to vote prohibits denying the vote on the basis of sex with no use of the word woman.  Native Americans are granted no protections, nor were slaves, almost all African-American, until the conclusion of the Civil War.

In large measure, the play is really a one-woman performance, but another structural element is that much of it is staged in the fashion of Schreck’s debating at an American Legion hall.  Vincent Randazzo appears throughout, mostly as the debate facilitator, a role in which this fine actor is totally underutilized.  While the debate concept is appropriate, Schreck often goes way past her permitted debate time, making the device seem a bit unrealistic.

In the final segment, a high school debater, a well-presented Avery Hartman at our performance, comes to the stage to debate with the Schreck character about whether the Constitution should be retained or abolished.  Some audience involvement is built into this sequence.  Both debaters make valid points, but even accepting that the Constitution is mostly well-intended, it often fails us in final adjudications at the Supreme Court.  The whole debate of whether to continue to amend or recreate de novo really hinges on whether the conditions of a Constitutional Convention would result in a better or worse document.

For those less familiar with this country’s binding documents, What the Constitution Means to Me will be an eye opener.  It will fascinate with its characterization of the instrument’s penumbra between light and shadow; the power of the 9^th Amendment to recognize new rights; and the drag of its focus on negative rather than positive rights.  But even those who are knowledgeable will find the play gripping, informative, and entertaining.

What the Constitution Means to Me, written by Heidi Schreck, is produced by Hillbarn Theatre and appears on their stage at 1285 East Hillsdale Blvd., Foster City, CA through February 8, 2026.

Sometimes an actor is able to create an identifiable niche that makes the performer the darling of casting directors – the wizened cowhand, the craven felon, the doting grandmother.  Some singers or bands seek to establish distinct identities, like Madonna, The Grateful Dead, or Kiss.

Multivariate artist Hershey Felder has written his own ticket, finding an undeveloped space that suits him well.  Combining his skills as a piano virtuoso, an incisive playwright, and a deft raconteur and actor, he has created a cottage industry of authoring and performing one-man-show biographies of great composers.  Playing at a Steinway piano and strolling the stage, he regales with the composer’s music and the story of his life.  He has portrayed Gershwin, Berlin, Bernstein, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, Beethoven, and Debussy.  The Bay Area has proven a devoted audience, with his productions appearing in concert with two of its most esteemed companies, TheatreWorks Silicon Valley and Berkeley Rep.

Felder has returned to TheatreWorks with a world premiere, but this time, an autobiography.  Having seen and appreciated all of the above-mentioned bios, this reviewer approached a self-referential work with some trepidation.  But unlike his previous works, the artist’s life story is delivered with a unique sense of authenticity that derives from revealing personal experience.  There are numerous anecdotes from his life that resonate with significance, and his storytelling ability gives a heartbeat even to the mundane.  Coming from an immigrant and multilingual household as well as taking on accents for his parts in previous works, he brings a catalog of voices and accents to embellish this one.

Another factor enriches The Piano & Me.  In his biographies, he must depict the composer’s ouvre by performing 10 or 12 pieces by the composer, some of which he may not relish.  In The Piano and Me, he plays music that he loves or that has held special places in his development as a pianist.

Born and raised in Montreal, Felder is Ashkenazy Jew on both sides, having had a dour Polish father and an angelic Hungarian mother.  The vignettes he tells are of his growth as a pianist and of the people who impacted it, particularly family and teachers.  A surprising portion is dedicated to Holocaust related stories, given the chilling effect that they have, but they are a deeply felt gash for all Jews and any human beings with compassion, and the reality of those heinous deeds should not be forgotten.  A small sample of his tales follows.

Growing up, he characterized himself as fat, different, and subject to ridicule.  But he was drawn to the piano, and his parents supported the endeavor.  A fast learner, he tells of playing part of a classical piece for his first piano teacher.  She then gave him the daunting task of memorizing the full score of the piece for the next lesson, but he failed to mention to her that he visualized it before him and had already memorized it.  (Incidentally, Hershey, in the audience Q&A after the Friday performance, I was the one who asked whether you had photographic memory and if it was music specific.)

In speaking of the Holocaust, like virtually any Jew in the world, Felder’s family suffered losses at the hands of the Nazis.  On his paternal side his grandparents had a total of 20 siblings, and only two survived the Holocaust.  Decades after the war and living in Canada, his maternal grandparents kept a suitcase filled with beloved religious possessions in case they were forced by hostility to evacuate hastily.

On a different note, perhaps because of the diaspora, many Jews engage in what I call Jewish geography, which my Jewish wife has played.  In Felder’s case, he made connections, one of which was finding that he was a distant cousin to Joel Zwick, a Hollywood player best known as the director of the TV series Full House and the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding.  Despite Zwick’s initial abruptness and dismissiveness, he would be instrumental in launching Felder’s composer biographies line-of-business, when the Gershwin family gave permission to this unknown to perform a biography of George for a mere two weeks.  That seed 30 years ago is what led to Felder’s life’s work.

Many other stories and quips entertain.  As always, Felder’s piano playing of sometimes very challenging pieces mesmerizes.  The performance engages throughout.

Hershey Felder: The Piano & Me is a world premiere with book by Hershey Felder, presented by TheatreWorks Silicon Valley, and plays at Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts, 500 Castro Street, Mountain View, CA through February 8, 2026.

What is it about Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire that makes it one of the most loved and lauded plays in the American canon?  Is it the clash of the common and earthy Stanley with the pretentious and fragile Blanche with its contrast between brutally honest and delusionally dreamy?  Is it the multiple dynamics of love, loss, loyalty, and longing?   Is it the exotica within America of Frenchified New Orleans with its Napoleonic Code?  Is it vicariously experiencing aspects of the playwright’s sordid imagination and existence?  Or was it propelled by the fame of its 1951 filming with the searing and iconic depictions of Stanley by Marlon Brando and Blanche by Vivien Leigh?

The premise is that Blanche DuBois (played by Lucy Owen, who has also “co-created” this production) has lost the family’s Mississippi plantation, Belle Reve (aptly, “beautiful dream”), and has intruded upon her sister Stella (Heather Lind) and her working-class husband Stanley Kowalski (Brad Koed) in their humble two-room flat in the French Quarter.  Blanche finds the conditions beneath her and Stella’s dignity.  Despite being a beggar, Blanche shares her disdain for the digs and verbally abuses Stanley, disparaging his Polish heritage, manners, livelihood, and all else.  Not a gracious or endearing house guest.  In time, we learn that Blanche’s history is more complicated than she lets on.

As a reviewer, I usually avoid comparing a theatrical production to a film, as the two vehicles are endowed with such different assets and potential.  In this case, the film is probably what makes Streetcar such a familiar story, and it is probably a fine exemplar of the playwright’s intent – a grim and gritty commentary on working class life with the intrusion of a square peg in that round hole.  Expectations and comparisons become hard to avoid.

Artistic contributors to live performance often struggle with the challenge of either producing a best-possible, classic rendition of a play or finding a unique interpretation to show the material in a different light.  Owen and collaborator Nick Westrate, who also directs, have created a variation of Streetcar that holds faithfully to Williams’ text, yet its tone and staging depart radically.  This variation was well-received by the opening night audience and does succeed on some levels, but its tone suppresses the power of Blanche’s accumulating angst and delusion.

To establish a more intimate feel at the ACT performance, a number of audience members are seated on the three closed sides of the stage.  In devising a more stripped-down, abstract telling of the story, the narrative plays out on the otherwise bare stage with the off-stage mechanics of pulleys, lifts, fly, and such exposed behind the stage-seated audience.  The players do however frequently move beyond the stage into the aisles of the orchestra, into lower box seating, and even behind the stage audience to depict more private scenes such as showering.  And in a final budget-saving practice, the cast is limited to four actors, with multiple parts played by James Russell, whose primary role is Mitch, Stanley’s friend who courts the newly-arrived Blanche.

The more significant variance is that Blanche’s role especially is played with a lighter lilt than expected.  I don’t remember a single laugh in the film or the other staged version that I’ve seen, but the first act of this version is filled with chuckles and guffaws.  While the humor on its own is winsome and shows how talented actors can mold lines in different ways, it detracts from the weightiness that otherwise makes this a great play.  Another controversial element is the use of almost constant music, usually piano playing.  Its tone sometimes seems to contradict the action, and at times drowns out the dialog.  Otherwise, sound and lighting are highly impactful.

Streetcar’s greatness derives from its sharp characterizations and the conflicts they cause, with issues arising between each pair of major characters.  The most pronounced is between the seemingly sexually repressed and somewhat guarded Blanche versus the candid, clever, cynical, and aggressive Stanley.  Another important universal dynamic concerns the difference between Blanche, who lives in the past and cannot reconcile to a diminished socio-economic status, versus Stella, who accepts her new life and finds the good in it.

In the context of this interpretation, Lucy Owen is an effective Blanche, managing the contradictions of the character well.  She is blithely self-indulgent, at once haughty and condescending, yet greedy for human contact.  Her disconnections with reality are convincing and evocative.  Heather Lind is a fine Stella, a positive and largely buoyant force, moving about with optimism and decisiveness as she tries to maintain loyalty to her sister and husband at the same time.  The male cast members both bring serious acting cred and command to their roles, Koed relishing the underlying meanness of Stanley and Russell the ambivalence of Mitch, but more gravitas would make for richer depictions.

In any case, the importance of A Streetcar Named Desire must be recognized.  It packs considerable depth of meaning in one evening and moves briskly except for a bit of drag toward the culmination.  This treatment, while spare and experimental, captures the essence of playwright’s words in its own way and the attention of the theater goer in a provocative way.

A Streetcar Named Desire, written by Tennessee Williams and “created by” Lucy Owen and Nick Westrate, is presented by American Conservatory Theater and plays at its Toni Rembe Theater, 415 Geary Street, San Francisco, CA through February 1, 2026.