Stephen Sondheim belongs at the head of the elite Pantheon of stage musical composers.  Not only was he one of the few great ones to write both his own music and words, but his music was noted for its complexity and his lyrics for being perhaps the most sophisticated and witty among successful stage musical writers.  TheatreWorks has produced 20 of Sondheim’s musicals, so it is fitting that Founding Artistic Director Robert Kelley and longtime Musical Director William Liberatore have collaborated to create a revue of Sondheim songs.  An adoring audience was duly enchanted by great music and a talented cast at the opening night of the world premiere, “Being Alive: A Sondheim Celebration.”

Several Sondheim revues were already in circulation, among the better known are “Side by Side by Sondheim,” “Sondheim on Sondheim,” and “Marry Me a Little,” so what could be added to the anthology?  Past homages take varying approaches – a simple plot line tied together with songs; a “biggest hits of” jukebox musical; a collection connected by filmed commentary from the honoree.  Since Sondheim wrote until his recent death, and the revues date from as early as 1976, these composite pieces miss his later work to greater or lesser extent.

Kelley and Liberatore decided to explore the theme of love in their collection.  Even Sondheim’s least romantic shows involve relationships, usually with songs about love and its complications.  MTI, the copyright holder of 15 Sondheim musicals, imposed a set of rules that among other limitations prohibited songs from shows that they don’t own and restricted the number of songs from any one show to three – still a lot to choose from. The conceit to perform the tunes is that the artists are preparing for a revue.  Act 1 is an informal run through, while Act 2 is a dress rehearsal, albeit with totally different songs.

The performers enlisted are three familiar faces at TheatreWorks (Melissa WolfKlain, Noel Anthony, and Nick Nackishima) and three fresh ones (Anne Tolpegin, Solona Husband, and Sleiman Alahmadieh).  They are supported by Liberatore on piano and Artie Storch on drums. 

The creators mined the eligible songbook to find much more than just familiar songs from Sondheim’s most successful musicals.  They found gems from more obscure shows like “Love is a bond” from “Saturday Night” and “Everybody says don’t” from “Anyone Can Whistle,” as well as songs that were cut from other musicals but picked up in previous revues, such as the suggestive “Can that boy foxtrot” (from “Marry Me a Little” and cut from “Follies”) led by a sassy Melissa, and “The wedding is off” (from “Sondheim on Sondheim” and cut from “Company”).

There are even instances of songs with music from one source and lyrics from another as in the music of “Putting it together” from “Sunday in the Park with George” while the lyrics are from the revue “Putting It Together.”  Context and delivery can make all of the difference in how a song is perceived, one example being “Kiss me” from “Sweeney Todd.”  The musical itself is dark and propulsive, and the song so rapid fire that the emotion that underlies it can be lost.  Not so in this performance by Solona and Sleiman.

Certainly there is representation from Sondheim’s transformative works like “Company” and “Follies,” but two of the most affecting songs come from “A Little Night Music.”  Probably his most performed and beloved song is “Send in the clowns,” a mournful despondency about disappointment and mistakes, which is given a tender rendition by Anne with an assist from Noel.

The other magnificent number from the same show is “The miller’s son” sung by the vibrant Solona.  Along with many other Sondheim songs, it possesses lyrics that challenge and that are delivered rhythmically at a gallop.  This one is a little unusual in that it contains two main musical idioms, including folk portions that are appropriate to the character singing.  In “A Little Night Music,” it is sung by a servant who has a minor role.  The song ponders the class system and the possibility of rising (or falling) in social stature, yet that the glory of physical love can be enjoyed by any and all.

Final mention goes to “Move on” from “Sunday in the Park with George,” in which Dot declares to George that he is complete, but she is unfinished, which she will remain if she stays with him.  This sad end of the love cycle is sung emotionally by Melissa and Nick, a great comic who also reveals his singing chops. 

Sondheim lovers will revel in the coordinated selection of 36 songs, and all theater goers should appreciate the talent of the cast and the professionalism of the production.  The revue lacks real connective tissue other than one liners that lead from one song to the next, so those looking for a plot won’t find it here.  Aficionados will be able to fill in many of the blanks, while those less familiar will not have a sense of the context that makes each song relevant to its show or how different these fine treatments are from other interpretations.  Most tunes work well with the simplicity of the musical accompaniment, but some would benefit from support by more instruments.

“Being Alive – A Sondheim Celebration,” with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, is a world premiere conceived by Director Robert Kelley and Music Director William Liberatore, produced by TheatreWorks Silicon Valley, and plays at Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts, 500 Castro Street, Mountain View, CA through June 30, 2024.

Upon receiving a commission from the Royal Opera House to write an opera on the contemporary world, great Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho enlisted noted storyteller and countrywoman Sofi Oksanen to be her librettist. Because the opera was to be dramaturged and ultimately to be adapted into a multilingual script, Aleksi Barrière was added to the composition team. Not having written for opera before, Oksanen asked what subject had not been tackled in the medium, only to find that opera has explored virtually every manner of existence, psychologically, socially, and historically. The ultimate decision was to plumb rare uncharted territory, the global scourge of our time which Finland had just suffered – mass murder.

The incongruously titled “Innocence” results, a masterpiece of true brilliance. Co-commissioner San Francisco Opera presents its American premiere in a most memorable, compelling, and powerful production that any opera aficionado will do well to see. The action grips throughout, while the edgy music creates the feeling of imbalance and terror. Regrettably, while Saariaho lived to witness the world premiere, she died a year ago before the full rollout of the commission productions.

After an ominous overture opened by a rumbling orchestra and haunting reeds, the uncommon innovation of the work with multiple conceits manifests itself from the first scene. To begin with, the narrative alternates repeatedly between two time frames, ten years apart. The first surrounds the killing of a number of students by one of their classmates at a high school in Finland. The second takes place at a small wedding reception at which the waitress realizes that the groom is the brother of the shooter whose victims included the waitress’s daughter.

Producer Simon Stone and Revival Director Louise Bakker have integrated wildly complex and demanding creative elements into a phenomenal muscular whole. The action of the opera takes place on Chloe Lamford’s striking two-level revolving cube set design which is used to great advantage depicting various rooms within both major venues. Central to the wedding component is the elegant and composed Last Supper design of the reception party, while the school scenes are ragged and chaotic. The production crew stealthily makes changes to sides of the cube when they are facing away from the audience. James Farncombe’s contrast lighting adds drama and symbolism.

Breaches of opera convention begin with the nature of vocalization. While operatic-style singing prevails in the wedding scenes, the school sequences are dominated by three variants employed largely by actors rather than opera artists – simple spoken word, amplified speaking for special effect, and songs and singing in a folk/pop idiom. Another distinction is that the libretto includes nine languages, owing to the international nature of the school and the wedding between a Finn and a Romanian. Although the departures from the norm read almost as a checklist of how to grab attention with unique features, they integrate exquisitely.

The general public certainly has deep sorrow and sympathy for the victims of mass shootings and their families. But “Innocence” goes beyond the superficial to examine the lives of the survivors and the families of the perpetrators, leading a deeper understanding of the complexities of the consequences of these events. Those students who escaped without helping others are forever plagued by the fear that they may have caused deaths by saving their own lives. A boy is unable to be in a room without facing the door. The tormented and hesitant waitress Tereza (splendid mezzo Ruxandra Donose) repeats behaviors daily as if her daughter were still alive. The parents of the killer lead lives of social isolation, and the couple scornfully diverges on whether to reconcile with the shooter son or never to see him again. More provocative is a look at the back stories of the deceased. Often deranged killers have suffered taunting or abuses that spawn their resentment of others who have had more comfortable existences.

Overarching is the theme of guilt felt by those who knew the shooter and the gnawing sense that if they had done something different or differently that the tragedy would have been avoided. The message of the narrative is that this guilt by those not intimate with the perpetrator is misguided. While many signals of projected aberrant behavior can be positively identified in the rearview mirror, the number of false presumptions as a result of amateur psychology would be overwhelming. As the libretto notes, every loner or kid with acne or mild obesity would be reported for observation.

The end-to-end drama of the story line chills to the bone. Saariaho’s complex music serves the drama, which abides with Chekhovian principles. This is not sit-back-and-relax music. With all of its bombast and dissonance, the untrained ear may miss the detailed leitmotifs with different tempo and instrumentation assigned to various characters. But the listener will grasp the jarring and shrieking of the orchestra; the high tessitura of the stressed Patricia, the mother of the groom; and the dark gloominess of her husband Henrik (portrayed with excellence by Claire de Sévigné and Rod Gilfry respectively).

Singing was strong throughout, but the most striking vocals come from a non-operatic source. Eclectic musician Vilma Jää plays Markéta, the deceased daughter who appears in Tereza’s imagination. Jää’s arresting and penetrating arias draw from Finno-Ugric folk style with a plaintive wail that pop fans may find reminiscent of The Cranberries’ Dolores O’Riordan.

The libretto’s cleverness goes further than most would expect. To that end, spoilers will be avoided here, and anyone intending to see the opera is encouraged to avoid reading a full synopsis. Rarely does an opera offer this much drama along with twists that would be expected in a thriller. This is a rare modern opera that should appeal to traditional opera lovers as well as to theater goers looking for a riveting opera experience unlike anything they would anticipate.

“Innocence,” composed by Kaija Saariaho with libretto by Sofi Oksanen and Aleksi Barrière, is produced and co-commissioned by San Francisco Opera in a U.S. premiere, playing at War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco, CA through June 21, 2024.

John Patrick Shanley’s 2004 stage play “Doubt, a Parable” won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama and the Tony Award for Best Play.  This is quite an accomplishment for a claustrophobic, cloistered story with only four characters that takes place in a convent middle school – mostly in the office of its principal.  The movie adaptation won several Oscar nominations.  Altarena Playhouse offers an off-the-charts gripping revival of this absorbing drama, driven by an outstanding ensemble of four actors.

At its heart, the play is a character study of Sister Aloysius, the school’s principal.  A rules-dominated, my-way-or-the-highway authoritarian, she maintains the unproven belief that young Father Flynn is a sexual abuser.  Her belief is supported by the facts that the Father has long nails for a man; that he has been assigned to his third parish with somewhat short tenure in the previous two; and that he touched a boy on the hand.

Driven by these facts and her compulsive personality, she is convinced that Flynn is evil.  An incident involving the unauthorized drinking of the sacramental wine by a new student that Aloysius attributes to Flynn’s involvement provides a trigger.  The fact that the perpetrator is the only black boy in the school adds another layer of complication.

Altarena’s Artistic Director Katina Psihos Lethuele steps back onto the stage and into the role of Sister Aloysius with absolutely spectacular results.  With pursed lips and lacking makeup, she appears older and dour.  Donning a black bonnet and fuddy-duddy spectacles, and walking with an uneven gate add to the effect.  The finishing touch is the brusque affect of clipped speech with condescending look and tone.  Letheule transforms into the perfect representation of an unwavering, impregnable militant for whatever her chosen cause.

Believing that she has the students’ safety at heart, Sister Aloysius demands that the nuns maintain a watchful eye for any discrepant behavior at the school and to report it to her.  Certain in her righteousness and driven by a need for power and control, she will break the same rules that she would denounce others for bending.

She coopts young and naïve Sister James as a confederate to try to out Father Flynn.  It is the younger nun who reluctantly reports the wine drinking incident.  Anna Kosiarek plays Sister James, and while the part is not nearly as juicy as Aloysius’s, she conveys the young nun’s conflictedness with great skill.  Although Sister James’s faith seems unshaken, Kosiarek shows a wide-eyed innocence and a great range of emotions in response to Aloysius’s rigidity in summarily rejecting a wide array of human engagement from friendliness toward students to secular Christmas songs.

Meanwhile, Father Flynn is in a quandary.  Though a priest outranks a nun, the vindictiveness of the principal and her willingness to expose him, even without evidence, puts him in a helpless situation.  His turmoil is reflected in his homilies in masses, which deal with intolerance and gossip.   Thomas Hutchinson adeptly captures the priest’s love of his work, care for children, and his anxiety when confronted with the charges.  More importantly, Hutchinson delicately balances his interactions with Sister Aloysius with such trepidation and ambiguity as to beg the question of guilt in the minds of the audience.

A final star turn is by Billie J. Simmons as Mrs. Muller, the mother of Donald, who had drunk the wine inappropriately.  Called into Sister Aloysius’s office for a conference, Simmons nails the characterization of one who may be working class in education and verbal expression, but who has the intelligence and insights to ascertain that the principal is more interested in advancing her own agenda than in protecting the parent’s son.  Simmons also exhibits the uncommon courage of a parent not being intimidated by the principal, despite having little leverage.

As suggested by the extension of the title, the play is not simply an examination of a person obsessed about someone’s presumed deficient character. “Doubt” stands as a broad indictment of organized religion.  All religions build upon some facts, but at their core, adherents hold to a shared body of intangible, unprovable beliefs, often in conflict with the precepts of other religions.  On its own, subscribing to a set of beliefs is not pernicious, but inevitably, beliefs often cleave populations tribally between devotees and outsiders.  Just as inevitably, dogmatic holding to these beliefs as truths can act as a battering ram, vilifying and harming people outside the circle.

Moreover, the playwright exposes the darker side of clerics.  Virtually none of the issues in the play concern clash of religious precepts, but many concern the exercise of power.  This is evidenced by Sister Aloysius’s administrative and pedagogical philosophies, which she foists on Sister James and others unseen.  And while the principal may actually believe that Father Flynn has abused students, she is unwilling to go through channels or wait to prove that something illicit has occurred.  Rather, she wishes to muscle him into submission, based on her beliefs unsupported by proof.

Another blemish that can be imputed is that for all of its veneer of religious observance, organized churches constitute an industry.  They compete for success and survival.  Their managers come and go.  Perhaps more damning is the notion of clerics as professionals, who even with the loss of faith continue their careers for any number of dubious rationales.  Many have feet of clay and perhaps should never have taken the collar or the habit to begin with.

“Doubt, a Parable” captivates from its opening sermon about how shared doubt can act as a strong bond, leading relentlessly to its crash ending.  Director Shannon Nicholson has engaged a superb cast whose performances make for a superior, if somewhat chilling, theatrical experience.

“Doubt, a Parable” is written by John Patrick Shanley, is produced by Altarena Playhouse and plays on its stage at 1409 High Street, Alameda, CA through June 30, 2024.

Opera holds a special place among performing arts.  It is exceedingly expensive to produce at its highest levels, and the repertoire of operas that constitute acceptable production risk is limited.  Thus, a select number of popular war horses are revived again and again, among them, Mozart’s “The Magic Flute” (“Die Zauberflöte”).  In considering both their loyal patrons and newcomers to the form, a challenge for producing companies is whether to repeat traditional renderings of the works or to offer novel interpretations by changing the time frame, venues, or language of the works, or even abbreviating them.

While most successful operas are well-grounded period pieces, “The Magic Flute” is a timeless, placeless, mystical, and fanciful fairy tale, all of which make it conducive to a wide array of interpretations with vivid, innovative staging and costumery.  San Francisco Opera offers a production by Komische Oper Berlin that breaks the mold with a visually stunning and riveting realization.  Although the music is Mozart (enough said) with ample highlights, it’s hard to imagine an opera production that is more about the visuals than this.  It is highly recommended for its incomparable visual artistry, but there are points of concern and discussion.

The conceit is to contextualize the story in the silent film era.  The device is a screen that fills the stage.  Strikingly garbed live characters sometimes gambol across the stage in front of the screen, often in sharp spotlights, but mostly they swivel from doors on the screen like statues appearing from cuckoo clocks on the quarter hour. 

A phantasmagoria of animation festoons the screen throughout.  While the still images in this review give an idea of some of the powerful look, they are a mere fraction of the dynamic eye candy on offer.  Sight gags appear on and off the screen.  The visuals are so enticing, constantly drawing the viewer’s eyes around the screen, competing with the supertitles, that a valid question is whether they actually distract the patron from the storyline or the music.  A sampling of two operagoers says somewhat, but clearly, this is an individual thing.

In a final clever adaptation, spoken dialog, which is frequent in this singspiel, is replaced with bold intertitles on the screen (see first image in review).  Mozart fantasias for piano are inserted to accompany the screens, so that music is continuous throughout the performance.  I can’t verify this, but it seems that the laughter from this graphic device was greater than from the spoken sections in a traditional production.  And for sure, the groans by the audience from the intertitle suggesting that women not step outside their designated sphere were pronounced.

The narrative of the opera challenges on its own, but is complicated further if one tries to impute Masonic values into the script, as many feel that Mozart intended.  It centers on brave and earnest Tamino who falls in love with a picture of Pamina, daughter of the evil Queen of the Night.  He will release Pamina from abduction by Monostatos, a slave to Sarastro, the latter of whom the queen falsely accuses of being evil.  Tamino and Pamina will succeed in trials to ordain them into the priesthood and allow them to marry.  Playing Tamino’s sidekick is the weak-willed Papageno who only wants a loving wife, and despite his failures in courage, his marriage is granted.

Along the way is musical pleasantry with highlights such as the Queen of the Night’s aria, Papageno’s recurring theme, and Sarastro’s “O Isis und Osiris.” Yet, despite the opera’s popularity and the fact that these splendid accents occur in Act 2, it drags.  Perhaps the sheer length of the opera works against it, or the lack of clarity in the libretto.

Opening night performance included pluses and minuses.  The Eun Sun Kim led orchestra sounded majestic and accurate, and the chorus boomed with vitality.  Compared with typical offerings from the company, the principals didn’t fare as well overall.  One exception was baritone Lauri Vasar as Papageno, who not only sang the role well but his Buster Keaton-like miming revealed real acting chops.  Amitai Pati as Tamino has certainly established himself as a rising young tenor, but he lacked adequate power this evening.  Sarastro is a basso profundo role, and Kwangchul Youn did not project the bottom of the range sufficiently.  The female leads, Christina Gansch as a Louise Brooks-like Pamina and Anna Simińska as the Queen of the Night, satisfied, but an absence of bravas from the audience after their signature arias suggests that they weren’t memorable.

This “The Magic Flute” excites like few other productions and should be seen for its creativity and visual magic.  Just considering the unique coordination of all of the activities that go on inspires awe.  But is this the future of opera?  No. It may inspire other non-traditional productions that promote interest, especially among younger audiences, but tradition will continue to dominate.

“The Magic Flute,” composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart with libretto by Emanuel Schikaneder is produced by San Francisco Opera in a production from Komische Oper Berlin, and plays at War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco, CA through June 30, 2024.

E strano (it’s strange) on the surface that Stefano Massini, an Italian author, would become so engaged in an American family’s history to compose an epical life-cycle work of the Lehman Brothers, Inc., seemingly sterile ground for theatrical drama.  Started by three German-Jewish brothers who emigrated to the United States in the mid-19^th century, the Lehman business began in cloth retailing in Montgomery, Alabama.

But the Lehman bloodline always possessed creative entrepreneurs and opportunists.  Their enterprise would evolve into cotton brokerage, stock and commodity trading, and eventually become the fourth largest investment bank in the United States before its dramatic demise in 2008.  Its bankruptcy, which was largely the result of investment in sub-prime mortgages, shook markets, both as a cause and an effect of the complex financial meltdown of 2008.

ACT presents this massive co-produced project.  Among other recognition, the Sam Mendes directed play has received multiple Tony and Olivier awards.  The storyline contains compelling elements, and the production brims with artistic ingenuity, yielding a powerful theatrical experience.

The plot is divided into three timeline segments.  An interesting mix of storytelling monologues and interaction among the characters enlivens the action.  Although the overall arc is dramatic, it is punctuated by comic interludes in which otherwise dry dialogue transforms into dry humor as a result of deft timing.

The first and most engrossing part concerns the origin story, the first generation’s building the business and their clashes of personalities and objectives.  Henry (John Heffernan) was the founder and characterized as the brain.  While the Lehmans would become famous as investment bankers, their real contribution to innovation, initiated by Henry, was creating the brokerage function between southern cotton growers and northern mills.  He often differed with Emmanuel (Howard W. Overshown) who was the arm that got things done.  The youngest was Mayer (Aaron Krohn), known as the (peeled) potato for his smooth skin, who was the conciliator.  It was he who saw the opportunity after the Civil War to create a bank in Alabama with state government money to facilitate economic reconstruction.

Anticipating Act 2, Emmanuel first planted the family flag in New York.  It would be his progeny that would guide the company through the next phase – first, fast-talking, locked-focus son Philip (portrayed by Heffernan).  His analytical thinking extended to evaluating prospective wives by a set of criteria, and he humorously pitches his proposal to the chosen one on a weekly basis until she finally submits.   The final anointed Lehman is horserace-obsessed grandson Bobbie (portrayed by Krohn) who despite diversions, puts his Yale education to good use.  Stage 2 lasts until Black Thursday, the stock market crash of 1929, which the firm survives.  This era captivates with the depiction of highly animated personalities and the company becoming what it would be known for.

The last chapter of the play and of the company witnesses the final years of Lehman family control with the sellout of ownership; the management by outsiders; and the end.  After the audience has become involved with the rise of a great American family, the period of “professional” management lacks that connectedness.  In addition, the brisk and uneven passage from 1929 to 2008 doesn’t allow the audience to get a feel for the times.  Finally, some in the audience may suffer from wearout in this final phase.  Why?  The run time is 3 ½ hours.  Thankfully, it was condensed in Ben Power’s adaptation from its original 5-hour form.

While plotline drives most theatrical dramas, “The Lehman Trilogy” draws power from its staging conceits, the first of which is using three actors to portray all of the roles.  Fortunately, each actor’s versatility makes for a master class in characterization as each is excellent in many depictions.  They play their own descendants; their counterparties from farmers to politicians; as well as children and women in their lives, to great hilarity.

That final group presents a conundrum.  In an age of diversity, a female cast member should unquestionably be written in.  As it is, many a laugh is generated by male actors overplaying females.  A female in those roles would demand different acting, directing, and dynamics, but that would be welcomed.

The unique staging adds another character to the mix.  Most notable is that although the narrative spans over 150 years, Es Devlin’s stunning single stage is unchanged throughout.  The skeletal glass and steel set gives an authentic modern Wall Street look, and it works even in the telling of stories from an earlier time.  This box rotates, creating a strong sense of movement and allowing different perspectives on the same scenery.

Another powerful aspect of the look of the stage is the use of Luke Halls’ full backwall projections which variously depict everything from skylines to fiery skies to moving arrays of stock ticker prices.  Actors remain in the same garb throughout – 19^th century three-piece black duster suits which suggest tradition even within the modern world.

Composer and Sound Designer Nick Powell has created a soundtrack for solo piano that can haunt, humor, provide repetition, and more.  Meanwhile, sound effects throughout echo the events of the times.

As acclaimed as “The Lehman Trilogy” is, there are two types of objections that have received attention and deserve comment.  First is the fact that historical records show that Henry had two domestic slaves for five years, and Emanuel had several in their warehouse, though nothing further is known of them or their treatment.  This is not mentioned in the play.  Whether this should have been revealed is up to the reader to decide.

Another concern is that the play is actually antisemitic, and in the argument of one reviewer, it seems to be about Jews who become bankers rather than bankers who happen to be Jewish.  Religious reference is not overstated, as religion was more important in the 1800s, particularly to the oppressed.  The play also notes that in the 20^th century the Lehmans became Reform Jews, which, as a monologue says, means do what you want.  And shiva (Jewish mourning including a cessation of business) for Bobbie was three minutes at the company, while historically the firm held it for three days.

Also, note that Stefano Massini went to Jewish school in the afternoons during his high school in Italy; learned Hebrew; and developed his interest in history there.  By Jewish law, Producer/Director Sam Mendes is Jewish, as he was born to a Jewish mother.  Case closed.

“The Lehman Trilogy” could be much shorter.  For instance, detailing stockbroker suicides to monotonous clock ticking adds to the fade effect by Act 3.  Nonetheless, it is a riveting and important piece of theater history about an important piece of American history very much worth seeing.

“The Lehman Trilogy,” written by Stefano Massini and adapted by Ben Powers is produced by American Conservatory Theater in co-production with the National Theatre and Neal Street Productions, and is performed at Toni Rembe Theater, 415 Geary Street, San Francisco, CA through June 23, 2024.

Hope, change, and tumult reigned in the United States in the 1960s with great strides in civil and women’s rights, the rise of counterculture, the sexual revolution, the Vietnam War, assassinations of great leaders, and more.  Much of musical theater continued the themes of the previous decade, but some new works turned deeper and darker.  In 1966, “Cabaret” plumbed the depths of what was considered sex and drug depravity within a theme about the vulnerabilities of groups vilified by Nazis in pre-World War II Berlin, notably Jews.

Having had a long Broadway run, many awards, and numerous revivals on the Great White Way and around the world, “Cabaret” belongs in the pantheon of great stage musicals.  Based on writer Christopher Isherwood’s experiences in Weimar and early Nazi Germany, it acts as a chilling reminder of the fragility of freedom and democracy.

The Center Rep production of “Cabaret” hits all of the right notes.  The look is fitting; the actors in key roles excel; Director Marcus Potter demonstrates a fine sense of interaction and stage usage; and Choreographer Jessica Chen captures the dance movement of hedonism with undulations and a little high kick and automaton thrown in.  The orchestral sound from Music Director Eryn Allen’s dozen or so instrumentalists was so full and exacting that several patrons peeked into the pit opening at intermission to make sure there were live musicians and not piped music.

The structure consists of a main plot, a couple of sub-plots, and a Greek chorus of one.  But in this case the “one” is a charismatic but nameless character that became the career role on stage and screen for Joel Gray – The Emcee at the Kit Kat Klub.

In this production, non-traditional casting employs a black man, Rotimi Agbabiaka.  For those so-called traditionalists, let’s note that this depiction adds only one more layer of disbelief to suspend, and this actor nails the characterization with great confidence from the iconic opening song sequence of “Wilkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome.”  Throughout, his panache exudes charisma as he struts and mugs.

Rather than sporting the customary formal attire, Costume Designer Becky Bodurtha festoons The Emcee in an array of sexual and transsexual attires.  Particularly appropriate is a micro-skirt of currency for the song “Money Makes the World Go Round.”  But more impressive is a skirt that unravels into a vast circle of pie slices in black, red, and gold – ominously, the colors of the German flag.

The central character is Sally Bowles, a comely but dissolute English lounge singer, who has taken refuge in the demimonde of Berlin to ply her meager talent.  She is portrayed by Monique Hafen Adams.  Despite her many awards in Bay Area theater, it seems right to question whether she would be up for an amoral role with such dark edges.  Wrong!  Not only does she ace every nuance of Sally’s complexity from pouty to growly, but her clarion mezzo singing voice dazzles through the whole repertoire and receives audience raves at every turn.

Always living from hand to mouth, Sally insinuates herself into the life of Cliff Bradshaw, a just arrived American “starving” novelist, played by a forthright but empathetic Jacob Henrie-Naffaa.  In a contrast of moral differences, Cliff shows that opposites can attract despite their falling on opposite sides of so many critical issues.  Or maybe it really says that hormones trump reason at certain times of life.

While Sally and Cliff have no ancestral issues to divide them, an elderly couple represents the tribalism that can destroy societies.  Cliff’s landlady Fraulein Schneider (Kelly Ground) has a warm relationship with greengrocer Herr Schultz (Richard Farrell).  But an incident that reflects rising antisemitism prompts a reevaluation of their relationship, as Schultz is Jewish.  In each couple, one feels that this and other incidents associated with the rise of Naziism portend a fearsome sea change, while the other blithely senses that “It Can’t Happen Here” (title of an equally foreboding Sinclair Lewis novel).  Regrettably, those who feared the worst were correct.

That “Cabaret” goes from debauched but generally jovial (Act 1) to menacing (Act 2) conforms to its very nature and is what makes it powerful and prophetic.  An interesting decision by the authors was to end Act 1 with an unpleasant revelatory incident and a portentous song.  While that sequence could be moved to the much shorter Act 2, it deflates the audience going to intermission.

A missing element from the narrative is that while identifiable homosexuals were a small population in Germany, they largely suffered the same results from the Nazis as Jews.  Gays are clearly a big part of the scene at the Kit Kat Klub, but threats to their existence are not apparent.

Notwithstanding, this is a mighty musical having sharply drawn characters; a reverberating and thoughtful plot with profound moral consequences; and memorable songs that capture the zeitgeist of the era.  Center Rep offers an exemplary rendering.

“Cabaret” with music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb, and book by Joe Masteroff, is produced by Center Repertory Company and plays at Lesher Center for the Arts, 1601 Civic Drive, Walnut Creek, CA through June 23, 2024.

Imagine if William Shakespeare were alive today.  As the playwright of a canon of 40ish of the world’s most produced plays, he would easily be the richest literary figure ever seen.  Then there would be royalties from works based on the Bard’s plays, like Verdi’s operas “Otello” and “Falstaff” and many musicals/movies like “West Side Story” or “Kiss Me Kate.”

Perhaps because of Shakespeare’s mystique and his mysterious life, he has also become the subject of semi-factual, speculative, and fanciful works such as “Shakespeare in Love” and “The Book of Will.”  One that would put a burr under his saddle if he took it seriously is “Something Rotten.”  Some may argue that it intends to bring The Bard down a notch, but more likely, it’s that a spoof like this works because he’s a big target known by all.

If Shakespeare joined in with the rest of the audience, he would appreciate this piece as a highly literate, screamingly funny, fast-moving, well-produced farce.  In its 83^rd year, Hillbarn Theatre provides consistently high-quality community theater, and with this musical it demonstrates once again that a non-equity house can deliver a totally professional-quality production.

In this whimsical narrative, the brothers Bottom write plays but fail to keep pace with the literary darling of the day, Will Shakespeare.  Nick, being the older and more driven (portrayed by a charismatic and talented Brandon Savage), consults with a soothsayer to predict trends in the entertainment industry.  That oracle Nostradomus (played by a wildly frenetic, magnetic Caitlin Beanan) predicts that musicals will be the next big thing.

Ultimately, the Bottoms birth “Omelet,” and you would be surprised how many tongue-in-cheek corollaries to “Hamlet” can come from a musical about eggs, starting with the rotten references.  For those looking for deeper messages, the direction taken exemplifies the eternal clash of whether to write a money-making hit or “To thine own self be true.”

Along the way, the poem authoring younger Bottom, Nigel (an innocent, diffident Andrew Cope) crafts what Nick considers throw away lines like “To be or not to be,” “This is the winter of our discontent,” “A band of brothers,” and more.  Tossing the pages they’re written on, guess who is around to pick up the pieces!

Of course, Shakespearian allusions and colorful characters abound.  Most characters’ names draw from “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” but Nick’s wife Bea, presumably represents Beatrice from “Much Ado About Nothing.”  Played by a bouncy and determined Melissa WolfKlain, she represents feminism as she insinuates herself into traditionally male trades, including bear dung removal!  She boldly insists that, this being the 1590s, and having a queen as Head of State, gender equality will certainly come by 1600.”

Shylock from “The Merchant of Venice” shows up so there can be a Jewish money lender, stage show producer, and source of schtick.  Meanwhile, Puritan minister Brother Jeremiah tries to gum up the works with religious sanctimony.  The final key character is the Renaissance rock star Shakespeare himself, played flamboyantly by a strutting, writhing, and shifty Julio Chavez.  As you might infer, the lauded playwright and poet is depicted as a conniver and plagiarizer, but it’s all in good humor.  Like all the leads in the cast, Chavez’s comic timing makes every laugh line work.

As a musical, “Something Rotten” brims with songs that enhance the storyline like “God, I Hate Shakespeare” and “A Musical,” having bright melodies, witty lyrics, and unending literary references.  Strong voices ensure that they are well sung, and often, comic undertones give the delivery extra zing.  A fair share of double entendres creep into the book and the lyrics as suggested by the song title “Bottom’s Gonna Be On Top.”  While a little raunchiness and potty language surfaces, rarely would an attendee be offended (or maybe they wouldn’t get the drift).

Director Randy O’Hara leads an outstanding creative team that pulls all the right stops.  Special recognition goes to Costume Designer Pam Lampkin, who puts together an abundance of period costumes as well as modern garb to represent characters from the likes of “South Pacific” and “Annie,” whose popular music themes are sampled in this soundtrack. Choreographer Leslie Waggoner produces many appealing dance numbers, effectively utilizing numerous performers who ably strut their stuff, in fun dance idioms, from tap to high kick lines.  A good time is had by all.

“Something Rotten,” with book by John O’Farrell & Karey Kirkpatrick and music and lyrics by Karey & Wayne Kirkpatrick is produced by Hillbarn Theatre and plays on its stage at 1285 East Hillsdale Blvd, Foster City, CA through May 12, 2024.

J. Cameron Barnett (Thought 2), Tarra Conner Jones (Thought 1), Jamari Johnson Williams (Thought 6), John-Andrew Morrison (Thought 4), Malachi McCaskill (Usher), Jordan Barbour (Thought 5), Avionce Hoyles (Thought 3). All photos by Alessandra Mello.

Under the best of circumstances, getting a play produced on Broadway is a longshot, even if it doesn’t have any particular obstacles that might deter audience attendance.  To assess traits that undermine a play’s marketability, a funnel can be used as a visual representation of how unpopular aspects of a play can accumulate, resulting in diminishing audiences.  A large volume at the top of the funnel (bigger audience) gets more restricted the further it goes down (smaller audience).

Consider the likelihood of “A Strange Loop” reaching Broadway.  The funnel of impediments that accumulate, starting at the top, looks something like this:  It’s a musical —– with book, music, and lyrics from a writer without a professional theater credit —– about a fat man —– who is also black —– and queer —– and totally navel-gazing, self-referential about being fat, black, and queer —– having an all-black cast —– that is almost all male —– whose language concerning sexual parts and private bodily activities is totally unfiltered and almost constant —– that uses the n-word with great frequency —– and includes simulated homosexual sex.

Of course, you wouldn’t be seeing this review if the weight of these obstacles weren’t overcome.  Michael R. Jackson’s play “A Strange Loop” won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama; Tony Awards for Best New Musical and Best Book of a Musical plus nine more nominations; and many other recognitions from its Off-Broadway beginnings.  Using the Broadway creative team, the San Francisco premiere from American Conservatory Theater offers a captivating, high energy, yet empathetic production that found a wildly supportive audience on opening night.  Adventuresome and more open-minded theatergoers will like much if not all in this production, but the caution flag is up for those who might be offended by the rawest of language and action.

The central figure, and surrogate for the playwright, is Usher, whose outline is given above.  Further, he is 25 years old, from Detroit, and trying to make it as a playwright in New York.  Fittingly, while he pursues his dreams, he ekes out a living as a theater usher.  The playwright’s choosing a character’s name that is shared by a famous R&B singer is no accident, because Jackson has suffered with that issue all his life.  And much of the playwright’s subtext concerns matters of “Who am I?  Am I Michael Jackson? Whose adulation do I deserve? Am I really loved?  What matters?  Am I a negro?  Am I their negro?” Those in the Bay Area familiar with Brian Copeland’s popular theater work will particularly appreciate the last two questions.

So, what is a strange loop?  It’s a rather obscure psychological term that ….. Well, it’s complicated.  You can look it up.  What is “A Strange Loop” about?  At one level, it’s about Usher’s obsession with his physical being and his sex life.  But the text also cascades metatheatrically into his professional aspirations.  It’s a play about a fat, black, gay man writing a play about a fat, black, gay man writing a play about a…… 

Malachai McCaskill is absolutely stunning as Usher.  He completely earns the compassion of the audience including those who don’t identify with the personal traits of his character.  Even his vulgarity conveys a sense of innocence and yearning to make sincere connection.  With warm charisma, McCaskill gives a bravura performance, being on stage almost full time and bearing a heavy singing load.  His vocal range is great, which is needed, but his voice is not terrific, at least not the way he uses it here.  And that is a good thing, because if he had a fine voice like the celebrity Usher, it wouldn’t fit his downtrodden character.

Remarkably, and somewhat in parallel with Jackson, this is McCaskill’s first professional engagement.  He is a junior at University of North Carolina Greensboro, and all of his stage credits are from there!

The other six actors program names are listed as Thought 1 through Thought 6.  They manifest Usher’s neverending introspection, and most of the thoughts that they disclose are self-chastising.  One of these psyches controls his pronounced sexual ambivalence, but he does seem to have genuine affection for “the little white girl inside me.”  In addition to being revelatory, The Thoughts are a total scream – flamboyant with wild gesticulations and great movement choreography.

The six sometimes play specific characters, most importantly, Usher’s parents, neither of whom have reconciled to his coming out several years before.  His father has no compunctions about his feelings about homosexuals.  More than once he asks if Usher is attracted to him since the son likes men.  It is not clear whether the father simply provokes the son or whether he shares some of the same orientation and possibly an inclination toward incest.  While his uber-religious mother (always played by men) shows affection it does not appear unconditional.  She invariably rails against his homosexuality and implores Usher to craft plays such as a gospel musical or something like Tyler Perry would do.

Among other notable characters that The Thoughts perform are a sextet of historical black persons; a handsome black man who comes on to Usher in the subway; and a chilling and abusive white man.  While we know that the black people appear in Usher’s imagination, who knows about the white man?

The production quality is top flight.  Its two greatest weaknesses concern repetitiveness.  Some points are made repeatedly, so that the script could be abbreviated a bit.  Also, while each song is pleasant and most are energetic, a certain propulsive sameness sets in.  Finally, it is interesting to note that in various iterations of “A Strange Loop,” different casting configurations have been used, including an early one with two white girls.  Another female in this version would be welcomed.

That said, the musical offers equal and rewarding measures of entertainment and insight.  And despite the frequent negativity and pushback that Usher faces, we somehow feel that he’s going to come out okay.  His playwright certainly did.

“A Strange Loop,” with book, music, and lyrics by Michael R. Jackson is produced by American Conservatory Theater in association with Center Theatre Group (of Los Angeles), and plays at Toni Rembe Theater, 415 Geary Street, San Francisco, CA through May 12, 2024.

Four-part vocal harmony dates at least to the Baroque era, achieving its artistic apex with 19^th century Romantic opera, evidenced by multi-lyrical, polyphonic quartets (i.e., having multiple lyrical lines and melodies simultaneously), like the beautiful “Bella figlia dell’amore” (“Beautiful daughter of love”) from Verdi’s “Rigoletto.”

Barbershop quartets of all male voices reached broader markets in the United States in the late 19^th century and beyond.  Finally, starting in the 1930s with the Mills Brothers and the Ink Spots, male pop music ensembles would populate the hit music charts and the air waves.  The popularity of male groups with mellow sound and close harmonies would peak in the ‘50s and early ‘60s with memorable music from The Ames Brothers to The Lettermen, and many groups with Four in their names.

Against this most recent backdrop, writer Stuart Ross created “Forever Plaid,” a musical revue of mostly four-part male harmony songs from the pop era, wrapped in a tissue thin, but funny scenario comprised of unrelated skits mostly built around songs.  The show’s appeal is revealed by its long legs, having run off-Broadway for over four years and spawning successful revivals worldwide.  42^nd Street Moon’s winsome production, stage and music directed by Daniel Thomas, brims with nostalgia, laughs, and good sounds.

The central conceit is that, having performed only at the likes of Moose Lodges, dive bars, and weddings, the four aspiring singers die in a car accident.  So, their show takes place on a vastly bigger stage – their return from the ether for one last concert.

But rather than a simple stand-and-deliver from behind four microphones, the young men are in motion.  Brittany Monroe’s individual dance skits may be simple, but the choreography works well and runs constantly from curtain rise to curtain fall.  And of course, humorous obstacles always block the way of the group, like attacks of asthma and nose bleeds.

Although some of the cast’s voices are better than others, the good thing about ensembles is that even modest voices can add up to a great overall sound, and this is the case with The Plaid.  The show opens and closes with two classics of the genre, both having had popular versions by The Four Aces – “Three Coins in the Fountain” and “Love is a Many Splendored Thing.”

However, the “close ups” are often in songs delivered as solos.  Edu Gonzalez-Maldonado as Jinx, sings “Cry,” popularized by the Johnny Ray recording in 1951.  Up to that point in the show, Jinx was portrayed as diffident and his voice didn’t come across much in the harmonies.  So, imagine the surprise when he grabs a standing mic; dips it almost to the floor a la Elvis; and belts out a confident and worthy version with a powerful voice and good range as well.

Kevin Singer (his real last name?) as Frankie didn’t seem to be in particularly good voice to start but revealed fine tone and variation later on.  In the funniest skit, he sings “Lady of Spain” while the other three perform a Cliff Notes, Keystone Kops, slapstick version of the Ed Sullivan Show in three minutes and eleven seconds.  There’s the magician, the juggler, the opera singer, and of course, the memorable puppet character, Topo Gigio.

Another highlight is “Perfidia” which Justin P. Lopez as Sparky gets to sing lyrics in both English and Spanish.  His voice is pleasant but seemed underpowered in this performance.  He does however lead one of the funnier dance sequences as well.  Finally, with the lowest singing voice of the group, Matt Skinner as Sludge (!) soloed with his version of “16 Tons.”

Although a few curious choices fill the playlist, a number of other classics from the period capture audience enthusiasm, including a medley of Perry Como songs and a medley of calypso numbers.  To ensure involvement by the patrons, the Jamaican song “Matilda” included audience sing-a-long participation.  Also, a brave theatergoer was brought on stage to lend one finger to help play a song that is an early right of passage to any wannabe piano player, “Heart and Soul.”

For this Sunday matinee, the audience was the expected highly homogeneous blue-haired crowd, this reviewer and his wife included.  But it was just the right generation to soak in the nostalgia of the musical and appreciate the enjoyable production.

“Forever Plaid” is written by Stuart Ross with music by various composers and librettists, is produced by 42^nd Street Moon and plays at Gateway Theatre, 215 Jackson Street, San Francisco, CA through May 5, 2024.

Mexican Daniel Catán’s 1996 opera has received great attention because of the rarity of Spanish language operas and the number of performance firsts that it has amassed.  One can be excused for believing that it is produced because of its lingual uniqueness or because it placates audiences in communities with large Hispanic representation.  That would be wrong.

Some critics have been dismissive of the opera simply because it looks backward stylistically rather than adhering to the drab tenets of modern opera convention. The first signal that it stands on its own as a towering work is that each of its three distinguished commissioning opera companies (Houston, Los Angeles, and Seattle) have revived the work – a total of four times.  The Met and the Lyric of Chicago have also produced it.  Opera San Jose offers a stunning production that raises the question why it took so long for this piece to make it to this stage.

The composer worked with librettist Marcela Fuentes-Berain who developed a straight-forward and accessible narrative that adds richness by merging it with the magical realism of Gabriel Garcia Márquez, under whom she studied.  The jungles of the Amazon are a perfect setting for the literary conceit.  Fuentes-Berain even integrates cholera into the libretto of this love story, in a nod to her mentor’s masterpiece “Love in the Time of Cholera.”  Other trials, large and small, will confront the passengers on their journey.

In opera, music comes first.  Unlike most modern operas with musical scores that afficionados are trained to appreciate but rarely really like, “Florencia en el Amazonas” will thrill lovers of 19^th century Italian and French opera with its lush romanticism.  Its warm tonal music fits the place and time, which is presumed to be late 19^th to early 20^th century.

Catán especially uses instruments like vibes, timpani, and drums in addition to the usual orchestral instruments for onomatopoeia.  Together, they imitate the haunting trills and undulations of the jungle, from birds and insects, as well as the rolling and thumping of thunder and storms.  The vocals, particularly the soprano arias and the ensembles sound like they could come straight out of a Puccini opera, especially recalling the soaring of Mimi and the torment of Tosca.

Opera soprano Florencia Grimaldi (interestingly, an Italian surname and the dynastic royal family of Monaco) had deeply loved Cristóbal, a butterfly hunter who disappeared into the Amazon jungle.  Twenty years later and with great fanfare, Florencia (portrayed by Elizabeth Caballero) is to return to perform at the Manaus Opera House.

Because of her discomfort with fame and adulation, she travels on a ship from Colombia to the Amazon incognito, where she encounters a journalist, Rosalba (Aléxa Anderson) looking to fill out her notes for a biography of Florencia.  A feuding couple Paula (Guadalupe Paz) and Alvaro (Efraín Solís) complete the passenger list.

The Captain (Vartan Gabrielian) loves only sailing as a profession and cannot imagine any other, while his nephew Arcadio (César Delgado) cannot wait to escape the tedium of the river.  Arcadio will fall in love with Rosalba, resulting in a third romantic dyad.  The final character, a spirit figure who links the real and magical worlds, is the colorful catalytic factotum Riolobo (Ricardo José Rivera).

Although the central character’s name appears in the title, the opera is an ensemble in terms of shared limelight, and the vocal quality of the cast collectively shines.  The accomplished Caballero navigates the score’s musical challenges including a wide range with many significant vocal leaps, while displaying a rapid, shimmering tremolo, particularly in Florencia’s wistful paean to her lost love.  The little heralded Anderson as Rosalba proves her mettle and more with a bright, crystalline, and penetrating soprano and an ability to hit the leaps in her role part without the hesitation that Caballero sometimes takes.  On the male side, Rivera’s powerful baritone as Riolobo fills the house, as does his personality.

The Joseph Marcheso conducted orchestra produces an ideally diverse, warm, and powerful resonance.  While the three artists in the previous paragraph are able to compete with the enthusiastic volume of the orchestra, some other performers did not always fare as well on opening night, especially early on.

As beautiful as the arias and the stand-alone orchestral tracks are, the most stunning music is in the many duets and quartets involving many combinations of characters.  A quartet of players in a card game trivially disclose their holdings, but each singer shines in brisk, short solos.  In subject and style contrasts to the card players, Florencia and Rosalba share a poignant revelatory duet, while in another set piece, Paula and Alvaro reflect on the mistakes that they’ve made in their relationship.

Commentary about Director Crystal Manich’s masterful staging must include compliments to Liliana Duque-Piñeiro’s captivating, impressionistic scenic design that figuratively captures the mystical sense of the environs.  Two components dominate.  The broadleaf, green jungle that frames the stage looks like it’s pulled from an Henri Rousseau painting.  And the sparkling white paddlewheel and stairs that represent the ship appear as if drawn from an American primitive painter’s riverboat study.  Tláloc López-Watermann’s often concentrated and diverse lighting, which affects color shading throughout, adds to the drama.

Not only do the music, libretto, and staging excel as individual elements, but the totality exceeds the sum of its parts, capturing the magical realism, most visibly as small butterflies flutter to the stage at the end of Act 1.  Fittingly, at the story’s end, one large butterfly offers itself for a lover’s transmigration.

“Florencia en el Amazonas,” composed by Daniel Catán with libretto by Marcela Fuentes-Berain, is produced by Opera San José and plays at California Theatre, 345 South 1^st Street, San Jose, CA through May 5, 2024.