With the Tony Awards celebration this week including the tenth anniversary of Hamilton, that musical was lauded for its success through innovation.  Not only did it introduce hip-hop to the musical stage, but it attracted a wave of younger theater goers and spawned like adventures into newer musical forms for theater.  Fittingly, ACT has launched the world premiere of Co-Founders, a hip-hop musical, and it fulfills the prophesy of Hamilton with a totally engaging production that wowed an audience spanning generations.

Not everyone can be expected to cotton to hip-hop, especially folk raised in an earlier age.  Its usual stridency and thumping beat at the expense of melody and lighter subject matter can be off-putting to those nostalgic about the likes of Frank Sinatra, Elvis, or the Beatles.  But happily, the moniker “hip-hop musical” is a bit of an overstatement.  The show offers a nice mix of pop music along with accessible hip-hop that deals with a range of relatable issues from aspiration to the history of innovation in the Silicon Valley.

The story centers on Esata, a young black Oakland woman, a whiz of a computer coder, who has designed an Artificial Intelligence software to simulate her deceased father.  Aneesa Folds plays the role.  Her voice conveys both power and beauty, and her acting evokes sympathy as a quality individual whose circumstances have impeded achievement.  Esata hopes for acceptance into Xcelerator, a highly competitive high-tech incubator in San Francisco.

Along the way, Esata meets Conway, played by Roe Hartrampf, who is full of bravado but short on substance.  He is a young white man from Pennsylvania who has been accepted to Xcelerator.  His shortcoming is that he has a concept for virtual reality travel, but he doesn’t have code to flesh it out.  Do we see a match made in heaven here?  Not exactly, but along the bumpy road, there is hope for a happy outcome.

The relationship between the two wannabes waxes and wanes.  Conway knows that he needs someone with Esata’s skill.  Though often generous to her, he condescends and also tries to make her the scapegoat for a crash when they are making a demo to Victor, the CEO of Xcelerator.  Unexpectedly, life imitated art when the projection system in the theater crashed, resulting in a half-hour delay in the proceedings.

Keith Pinto is Victor, and from his first appearance in a huge headshot video, he establishes himself as a prototypical motivational speaker with a steely visage and unwavering dedication to success at any price.  Secondary plots concerning Esata’s friends and mother spice the action.  Ryan Nicole Austin and Adesha Adefela, who play two of those roles to great effect are also two of the three playwrights.

Co-Founders is funny and heartfelt and covers a lot of meaningful ground from business ethics to friendship to discrimination, especially concerning the unfair disadvantages faced by black women.  The risks of AI are also surfaced, ominously as it facilitates what could be invasive surveillance.  A very different concern exists when AI humanoids are treated as human, as when mother and daughter both interact with the digital father that Esata created.  These higher order issues have broad appeal.

A major strength at the premiere, however, is likely to be a weakness beyond.  Broadly, the musical is a feel-good about the Bay Area, encapsulated in the song “This is the Bay.”  But moreso, it is a loving and deserved paean to Oakland, with an abundance of detail about the community that would mean nothing elsewhere.  There’s even a little humorous self-deprecation that plays to great laughter in San Francisco, “Would anybody vacation in Oakland?”  Meanwhile, when Conway refers to “San Fran,” it elicits the expected groans, and images of a Tesla truck trigger boos.

As wonderful as the script, score, and production are, it is hard to imagine that it would have the same appeal in St. Louis or Savannah.  And while many revisions of works shift place or time, Oakland, the Bay Area, and the high-tech world are so engrained in script and songs that it is hard to imagine Co-Founders set elsewhere.

In addition to engrossing stories and characters supported by snappy and varied music composed by Victoria Theodore, Co-Founders is an electronic visual phenomenon.  Fantastic projections and videos designed by Frédéric O. Boulay and David Richardson are virtually nonstop on the backstage screen, often supplemented by frontstage images on a scrim.  Choreography by Juel D. Lane and music directed by Ben Covello add depth to the experience.  And while costumery by Jasmine Milan Williams is largely conventional, outfits and wigs assist actors in playing multiple characters effectively.  This major production, which can expect a jubilant run, is all brought together by Director Jamil Jude.

Co-Founders, written by Ryan Nicole Austin, Beau Lewis, and Adesha Adefela with music by Victoria Theodore, is produced by American Conservatory Theater and plays at Strand Theater, 1127 Market Street, San Francisco, CA through July 6, 2025.

Always among the most performed of all operas worldwide, perhaps none is more beloved than Giacomo Puccini’s La Bohème.  What is not to love?  It contains some of the most beautiful music ever written; its characters and situations have broad appeal; its bittersweet comedy  endears; and its drama is heart rending.  San Francisco Opera reprises this timeless and wonderful warhorse, its most frequently produced, to great success.

The title character is Mimì, a lovely but sickly maiden, who falls in love with poet Rudolfo on first meeting in their freezing tenement when she loses the flame to her candle and then her apartment key.  The troika of truly beautiful musical highlights that follows would alone make a trip to the opera worthwhile.

As the two crawl on the floor looking for the key, Rodolfo opens with “Che gelida manina” (“What a cold little hand”) and tells her about himself.  She then shares her story with “Mi chiamano Mimì” (“My name is Mimi”).  And finally, they express their newfound love in the duet “O soave fanciulla” (“Oh, lovely girl”).

Local favorite Pene Pati performs Rodolfo and carries the part with charismatic aplomb and a gentle tenor voice with subtle dynamics that embrace the emotion of his love.  Karen Chia-Ling Ho as the delicate Mimì possesses a warm and uncommonly deep, dark timbre for a soprano, but she has no difficulty soaring to the heavens at the finale of “O soave fanciulla,” which unfortunately is barely audible as the couple have moved offstage near the completion of the duet.

A secondary love duo involves the often conflicted painter Marcello, portrayed by the smooth and authoritative baritone Lucas Meachem, with fashionable, flirtatious, and flighty Musetta, sung by bold and bright soprano Andrea Carroll.  In an unusual twist, the central character of Act II is given over to the second female lead, Musetta.  At the heart of her self-reverential vanity is her widely known and loved aria “Quando me’n vo’” (“When I walk”), which always lights up an audience.  While Musetta may be taken as a superficial woman, a closer look suggests a streak of independence that may be considered an early state of feminism.

Although the melodies in Acts I and II are the most memorable, the final two acts hold their own.  Considerable new melodic music is introduced, including a sequence with Rodolfo and Mimì that structurally echoes the three love songs in Act 1.  The doleful arias, “Addio” from Mimì and “Vecchia zimarra” (“Old coat”) from Colline (Bogdan Talos) are noteworthy as are a quartet among the artists and a split trio in which Mimì grasps that she’s dying.

What is pronounced however is the recurrence of themes from the earlier acts.  While Wagner promoted leitmotifs that could be subtle and comprised of only three or four notes, the repeat themes in La Bohème could be characterized as heavymotifs, as whole phrases are used multiple times.  Happily, they are beautiful melodies.

Along with the love stories, the other thread, which has considerably more depth, is the relationship among the four Bohemian artists who share lodgings in the garret of the tenement – Colline the philosopher, Schaunard the musician, and the two already mentioned.  As not-yet-successful artists, they lead hand-to-mouth but gratifying existences.  This is clearly a commentary on the richness of life steeped in the arts rather than one given over to the almighty dollar (or franc, as it were).

But more than that, the friends exhibit comradeship.  To pleasant laughter from the audience, they make light of their paltry existence and demonstrate generosity by sharing food bought with their meager earnings.  More importantly, they sacrifice.  As Mimì is dying, others in the group sell their pitiful assets to give Mimì comfort.  In the depth of winter, Colline even sells his treasured overcoat.

The production is at once handsome and efficient, heavily reliant on painted panels dropped from the fly in two acts with swiveled stage used to deliver genuine scenery and props in the other two.  The lighting level is low overall, which is realistic for the circumstances.  Outdoors at the Café Momus in Act II, lanterns handsomely festoon the stage.  While very attractive, the low light does dim the artists on stage and seems contrary to the brightness of the children’s choruses and the festive mood for that act.

Conductor Ramón Tebar leads orchestra and singers well.  Together with Director Katherine M. Carter, their excellent guidance of timing and pacing, as delivered by the singers, extract humor and empathy for the memorable characters. Collectively, working from a magnificent score, the artists of San Francisco Opera provide an exemplary evening of culture.

La Bohème, composed by Giacomo Puccini with libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa, based on Henri Murger’s autobiographical Scènes de la Vie de Bohème, is produced by San Francisco Opera and plays at War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco, CA through June 21, 2025.

Any work of literature with the word murder in the title immediately evokes grizzly thoughts of harrowing scenes of bloody death or police procedurals – except when the name Agatha Christie is attached.  In the myriad interpretations of her works for the screen, many are light hearted fare headed by comics such as Peter Ustinov or Margaret Rutherford.  Ken Ludwig adapted Murder on the Orient Express for the stage, and Orinda Starlight Village Players, a small but enduring community theater, offer a highly entertaining and humorous production.

From the time that Patrick Atkinson as Detective Hercule Poirot takes the stage for his opening soliloquy, one can breathe a sigh of relief that at least the lead role will be performed in a captivating manner.  But wait!  While community theater is notorious for uneven acting, each of the dozen actors holds their own in this raucous, farcical mystery.  Remarkably, the range of accents of the characters runs from Belgian Walloon (French) to Scottish to Slavic, and overall, they are well differentiated and delivered yet clearly understandable.

For the rare reader who may not be familiar with this work, the denouement won’t be revealed, but the setup will.  Poirot has boarded the train westbound from Istanbul.  Despite being off-season, the first-class coach is full with an omnium gatherum of nationalities and occupations.

Monsieur Bouc (played by an ebullient Wayne Goodman) who is Poirot’s friend and manager of the train company, is on board.  In time, we will meet all of the passengers including a couple on a tryst and a Hungarian countess who doesn’t seem to be Hungarian.  But the most demonstrative, of course, is an American.  Helen Hubbard, is played to the hilt by Kelsey Bye as a self-important and self-serving wealthy and overwrought woman who forces flippant humor into any verbal exchange, like offering the “biblical” quote, “If Moses doesn’t know the answer, ask the concierge.”

Although Poirot is on vacation, he is buttonholed by Samuel Ratchett, played by an insistent and ominous Ken Sollazzo, who offers him significant money to take a case.  Poirot turns him down but ends up on a case for free when Ratchett is found dead, having been drugged and stabbed eight times.  From that point, Poirot will systematically investigate and interrogate the passengers until he solves the mystery.

OrSVP is one of the many under-the-radar community theaters in the Bay Area with a small but loyal following.  A production like this will hopefully prompt more support.  Matt Cardigan-Smith is the recently-arrived visionary and creative factotum who has made a tremendous impact with limited resources.  Not only does he direct, but he designed the set, sound, and costumes, all of which make important contributions to the overall success of the project.

Although the set has the cheap look of cardboard construction, it is colorful, versatile, and successful in serving its purpose.  One challenge that Cardigan-Smith faced was the multiple locale changes, which he accomplishes using a clever convertible set.  And in one set change to erect the sleep cabins, all of the cast scurried like bunnies shifting pieces into place.

Off the stage, the set is supplemented with a locomotive, complete with cow catcher and beam light, and off to the side a telegraph/radio table appears for several scenes.  Piped sound is used to great advantage.  Discussions relating to an earlier and relevant murder are heard, and when Poirot is questioning passengers, their own taped words are replayed as reminders.  Background noises and music round out the sense of the environment.  These are all touches that reflect well on the effort to create a rich production while having little money to work with.

The storyline of Murder on the Orient Express, exposing its characters’ truths over time, engages throughout.  The cast takes complete advantage of the opportunities to extract humor at every turn.  Much interaction between personalities resonates.  In one particular contentious exchange, Helen and the Russian Princess Dragomiroff amusingly hurl epithets at one another in very dissimilar styles, reflecting their different social stations.

One weakness in the script is that some subsequent developments are telegraphed early on, but that probably doesn’t matter much to those who already know the outcome.  While it doesn’t convey the tone of a morality play, in the end, the play is very reflective concerning moral relativism, so there is meaning for those looking for it.  But for everyone, it is a fun and worthy entertainment.  Hopefully the folks from Orinda and its surrounds will catch on.

Murder on the Orient Express, adapted by Ken Ludwig from the novel by Agatha Christie, is produced by Orinda Starlight Village Players and is performed at Orinda Community Park Amphitheater (outdoors on benches with no back support, food and drink allowed), 28 Orinda Way, Orinda, CA through July 5, 2025.

Gay men are overrepresented in opera audiences, but only in 1995 did a gay man become the central figure in an opera.  Notably, that first central figure had been the first openly gay man to be elected to a major city office, and tragically, the first to be assassinated.

Even though commissioned by primo opera companies, the original Harvey Milk suffered bloat in composition, story line, and cast.  However, the arc of Milk’s life and death resonates with historic significance and operatic substance, thus Opera Parallèle and Opera Theater of Saint Louis commissioned a major revision that excels musically and dramatically with moments of poignancy, revelation, and joy.   Its trimmed design facilitates production by smaller opera companies, so, unlike the original, this celebration of a great icon for equal rights for all should have legs.

The music is modern, yet accessible, with concise and meaningful lyrics.  The revision emerges at a time when the equality for all that Harvey Milk fought for courageously is under attack from the very government that should be protecting everyone from discrimination.

The spectacular opening orchestration captivates aurally and the staging visually.  A pastiche of sound  (design by Ben Krames) incorporates the bombasity of a Philip Glass movie with chaotic clashing and gutteral throat singing, along with samples of the Scarpia theme from Puccini’s Tosca and Wagner’s motifs from The Ring Cycle and Der Fliegende Holländer.  Brian Staufenbiel’s creative direction with Jacquelyn Scott’s scenic design stuns in its total angularity, wonderfully enhanced by Mextly Couzin’s lighting and David Murakami’s projections.

An upstage scattering of doors represents coming out of the closet.  Four mobile staircases that can be variously separated and interlocked like so many Lego blocks, serve as an ascending platform for depicting action. They also symbolize Milk’s climb from anonymity to brief political and social consequence but lasting impact.

Though Harvey Milk became a San Francisco idol, composer Stewart Wallace and librettist Michael Korie sought to contextualize Milk’s evolution from his boyhood in Long Island, New York, and over one-third of the run time tracks his changes before moving to California.  Tenor Curtis Resnick portrays the young and naïve Harvey.  He learns from observing male attendees in formal wear after an opera at the Met that they differ from men in his small hometown, where bowling is the major diversion. He also learns that he is attracted to men, which becomes a life-defining moment that he can never share with his beloved Mama.

Early in Act 1, the libretto adeptly juggles multiple realities simultaneously.  Harvey contends with the sexual changes that he feels and the closeted life he will lead in New York, even while a Goldwater Republican and Wall Street analyst.  The gay men, represented by the men’s chorus, lead open lives but are traumatized by the riots at the Stonewall Inn.  Meanwhile, Mama, portrayed in solitude by Catherine Cook, is haunted by memories of the Holocaust and fear for her son.

These events coalesce in Harvey’s mind.  He conceives of his personal Star of David being comprised of the Nazi’s yellow triangle for Jews and pink triangle for homosexuals and sings the affecting aria “I remember.”  This also leads to the beautiful duet “This warm night in June” with Scott Smith (played by Henry Benson), who would become his business partner as well as lover.

As the scene shifts to San Francisco, we meet the circle of people who would become famous along with Harvey.  One of the strengths of the libretto is that the three central figures, Dan White (Christopher Oglesby), George Moscone (Matt Boehler), and Milk are depicted in shades of gray.  Despite White’s premeditated villainy, we are told that he reflected common values – that he didn’t drink, smoke, or swear; that he had a history of civic employment and involvement; and that he had concern for his family.   Of course, his common values sometimes came into conflict with those of the gay community as expressed in the bouncy anthem “Out of the closet and into the streets.”

The mature Harvey is portrayed by baritone Michael Kelly who personifies Harvey’s charisma, while revealing his imperfections along with his passions and anxieties.  Notwithstanding his monumental contributions to his chosen cause, he could be expedient, and White’s resentment toward him derived from White’s feeling betrayed.

Though progressive, Moscone practiced realpolitik when needed.  The event that triggered the assassinations was White’s resignation from the Board of Supervisors because of the financial sacrifice, shared in his telling aria “Beans and franks.”  But he then wanted to return and insisted “A man can change his mind.”  But Moscone, who initially signaled support for White’s return and controlled that decision, cruelly turned White’s words upon him when Moscone ultimately decided to deny the request.

Harvey Milk Reimagined engages on all levels with the score driven by the Nicole Paiement conducted orchestra.  A minor criticism is that the title lacks clarity or vitality.  Is this a rethinking of Harvey Milk as a person?  Among myriad options, a fitting alternative would be Mayor of the Castro or The Life and Times of Harvey Milk.  Afterall, Verdi refashioned Stiffelio as Aroldo, Gustavo III as Un Ballo in Maschera, and more.

A more substantive and emphatic criticism is the amplification of voices.  Opera’s central fascination perhaps is the human voice receiving its highest possible expression, with one acoustic singer thrilling the ears of up to thousands of listeners or a single soprano soaring above a chorus of many.  Modern composers, John Adams being the foremost, who abandon the virtue of a well-trained voice, reduce the vocal grandeur of a Pavarotti to an equivalency with a common lounge singer.  What is the excitement of a home run if the walls are moved to just behind the base paths?  With micing, evaluating or appreciating the quality of a singer’s voice becomes futile, so with due respect to the artists, I’ll pass on that.

Fortunately, Harvey Milk Reimagined has much to recommend it.  Hopefully, the decision makers in future productions will reserve amplification for special effects.

Harvey Milk Reimagined, composed by Stewart Wallace with libretto by Michael Korie, is produced by Opera Parallèle and appears at Blue Shield Theater at YBCA, 700 Howard Street, San Francisco, CA through June 7, 2025.

Indisputably one of the brightest stars in the opera firmament, Giuseppe Verdi’s operas remain among the most popular.  While many endure in the canon, his most performed include the great trio from his rich middle period, La Traviata, Il Trovatore, and Rigoletto, plus the later Aida.  Yet critics most often cite Otello as his crowning achievement.  West Bay Opera has courageously gambled on this notoriously difficult opera and has come up all aces.  All of the creative elements from aural to visual contribute to a riveting and memorable production.

Blessed with stunningly beautiful music, gripping drama, and consummate tragedy, why is Otello not produced more often?  Need we mention that while storyline and lyrics are often operas’ weak knees, Arrigo Boito’s libretto is considered, if anything, an improvement on its Shakespearean source material. The foremost impediment is the challenge of casting.  The title role is deemed one of the most difficult in opera – one that tenors are advised not to try until they are in their own rich middle period because of the stress on the voice.  Plus, Desdemona must command the audience through stunned silence with one of the most wrenching soliloquies in opera, a 12-minute virtuoso demand.  Finally, Iago, a villain non-pareil, must possess a great bass-baritone range and versatile vocal style while acting with a sense of insidious evil.

Another resistance point starting with its 1887 origins is that Otello represents Verdi’s first adoption of Wagner’s notion of continuous music, with no stopping for applause, which Italian audiences rejected.  But unlike Wagner’s later works, especially the Ring Cycle, Otello brims with wonderfully melodious self-contained set pieces.  Wagner also adopted what is arguably a weakness in his music theory (and perhaps his own compositional ability), and that is the abandonment of ensembles of any sort.  Happily, Otello abounds with captivating duets, the masterful double-duet (quartet, if you like) handkerchief scene, and a huge non-synchronous ensemble plus chorus (which plays a very active role) to close this production’s Act 2 that overflows with power and complexity.

The plot is uncomplicated.  Otello, a Moorish general in Venice’s military, returns to Cyprus to victory celebrations in a tumultuous storm that foretells the human drama.  His ensign, the duplicitous Iago, resents being passed over for a promotion that went to Cassio, and he vows revenge.  By placing Desdemona’s handkerchief in Cassio’s quarters, he implicates both.  Upon assuming betrayal, Otello strangles Desdemona, and then finding that she was innocent, impales himself.  For those who may cry spoiler, the generally accepted rule is that it is okay to disclose spoilers to operas and classic literature in reviews, as the reader is expected to know them already.

From the bombastic opening to the tragic and intimate closing, West Bay’s production compels and manages the many hurdles along the way.  The Byzantine Act 2 ensemble finale serves as a telltale.  It could easily come out as mush, but Maestro José Luis Moscovich harnesses the orchestra, chorus, and principals, each into elevating their separate contributions.

John Kun Park imbues the title character with an appropriately grim countenance and single mindedness.  Unfortunately, Otello is as decisive as he is gullible, and accepting Iago’s treachery as truth causes the tragedy.  Park accomplishes the challenge of the role with an accurate and vigorous voice, if slightly muffled in tone in the high end of his range.  He powers his way through the endless demands of the role.  Perhaps his greatest moments are in the absolutely wonderous duet with Iago, “Si, pel ciel” in which he vows revenge on the accused dalliant lovers along with his vow for retribution, “Sangue! Sangue! Sangue!”

As Desdemona, Julia Behbudov brings a sterling voice and passion.  She excels in the beautiful and reflective duet with Otello, “Già nella notte densa,” with cascades of crescendos, as well as in her extended signature soliloquy.  As she contemplates death, she completely captures the audience with Desdemona’s willow song, the haunting lament (“Salce! Salce! Salce!”) with its delicacy, dramatic vocal turns, and chilling shriek, followed by her tender prayer “Ave Maria.”

But if Otello belongs to one player, it is Robert Balonek as the manipulative and treacherous Iago, who pulls Otello’s strings like a puppeteer.  The large and encompassing role introduces one of the most iconic villains in opera, and Balonek endows it with every quality it deserves.  We speak of actors chewing up the scenery, and if the concept could be applied to a voice, it would be to his.  Rich, deep, and resonant, his exquisite dynamics can caress the graceful and stealthy yet explode with power.  Balonek’s commanding voice towers with versatile highlights throughout, but perhaps most notably in his “Credo,” when he acknowledges his own depravity but disdains those who may be honest but inept.  His body language and visual expressiveness with his smirks and sneers exhibits every bit of treacherous venom imaginable.

It is rare for a smaller opera company to take on an opera with the demands of Otello, much less produce an outcome as satisfying.  In addition to the performers, artistic contributors deserve recognition as evident from the photos, starting with Stage Director Richard Harrell, plus Peter Crompton for set and projections, Daniele Ferguson for lighting, and Callie Floor for costumes.  Otello deserves full support from the opera loving community on its closing weekend.

Otello, composed by Giuseppe Verdi and with libretto by Arrigo Boito based on the play Othello by William Shakespeare, is produced by West Bay Opera and is performed at Lucie Stern Theatre, 1305 Middlefield Road, Palo Alto, CA through June 1, 2025.

The display cabinets of Della’s Bakery brim with brightly colored, gaily decorated cakes.  The décor is swathed in pink and sea mist green, conveying all of the innocence of a ‘50s ice cream parlor or sweets shop, when boys were boys, girls were girls, and every socially-accepted person visible in Winston, North Carolina was white.  But the fragile patina of this throwback world belies the current era of culture wars and the social clashes that will occur within the bakery’s walls.

On first blush, Bekah Brunstetter’s The Cake appears that it could disappoint the serious theater goer as a frothy comedy with a message produced with the power of a powder puff.  But while Director Lisa Mallette and the cast deliver the laughs, a whole raft of timely social issues are explored.  Though the playwright’s personal disposition should be clear, this is no landslide to bury the retrograde.  Nuance and uncertainties driven by internal conflict rule, and clashes of values are revealed as the character of the characters unfolds.

Jen now lives in Brooklyn, but to honor her deceased mother’s wishes, she returns with her intended to North Carolina to plan a traditional wedding in her hometown.  Della, childless and the closest friend of Jen’s mom, acted as Jen’s proxy mother, and the love between these chosen family members is palpable.  Obviously, Della would make the cake to celebrate the wedding.

But the anticipated takes a sharp turn when Jen introduces her fiancée, Macy, who happens to be black, agnostic, vegan, and……lesbian – the polar opposite of Della, who is guided by what she considers the teachings of the Bible.  Consulting her calendar, she tells the couple that she couldn’t possibly add another major order in October, their wedding month.  This incident echoes the U.S. Supreme Court case of a Colorado baker who refused to make a cake for a gay couple.  But this pretext of not having time denies accommodating a loved one, not an unknown, random customer.

Luisa Sermol portrays the central character, and she imbues Della with rich complexity.  She is thigh-slapping funny even when talking about recipes and has two not-to-be-disclosed-here risqué and hilarious scenes with her husband.  Yet as a product of her environment, her Christianity represents a big part of her being.  But she will be forced to consider whether the received wisdom from her church and The Book is the correct interpretation; whether it is even true; and whether other factors overtake the righteousness determined several thousand years ago by a people different from ours in so many ways.

Della prides herself on her craft, and one funny thread concerns her being a candidate for the reality show, The Great American Bake Off.  In these recurring episodes, she talks to an unseen voice, and some of the racy communication makes you wonder if this whole sequence is in Della’s mind.  But like everything else in The Cake, a serious message is delivered, in this case concerning judgment made without due process, which is certainly a current concern in this country.

The ebullient Jen is portrayed by Lizzie Izuymin.  Some of us (or, at least me) may be annoyed at how forgiving Jen is when Della refuses to make room in her schedule for Jen’s wedding cake, which seems an abomination.  But having moved away from her roots makes Jen complex in a different way than Della.  In keeping with the old saw “You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy,” Jen carries some residue from her past and lapses into patterns she valued from earlier in life, some of which don’t please Macy.  Separately, as if to justify her sexual orientation and love for Macy, Jen explains to Della her fear of intercourse with a man and how Macy made physical love make sense.

The other two characters are more rigid, albeit with endearing qualities.  Macy (Sundiata Ayinde) possesses the antenna expected of a person from a minority.  In this scenario, she observes how billboards increasingly offend her the further south she goes.  She is intellectually committed to her beliefs, and as an online journalist, she seeks opportunity and values truth, which will also put her at odds with others.  Della’s husband Tim (Tom Gough) is the likeable, laid-back type.  But scratch the surface, and he’s the archetype of conservative intolerance, expecting his wife to follow his every command; fearing that Jen has been poisoned by northern liberals; and believing that gay love is gross.

If an optimistic conclusion can be drawn from the play it is that another overlay of conflict depicted is generational.  The younger generation, or the future, is more inclusive, and to some extent, that acceptance seeps through to part of the more resistant older generation.  Time is on the side of youth.

The Cake offers equal parts charm and provocation in a production with fine acting throughout as well as outstanding creative values.  Ron Gasparinetti’s expansive scenery, which includes bedrooms on both flanks of the bakery, is appropriate, appealing, and detailed.  George Psarras’s sound engages, particularly in the Great American Bake Off sequences when Della speaks with The Voice (Max Tachis), while Sonya Wong’s lighting highlights the action.  The integration of designs and pace are exquisitely directed and coordinated by Lisa Mallette.

The Cake, written by Bekah Brunstetter, is produced by City Lights Theater Company and plays on its stage at 529 South 2^nd Street, San Jose, CA through June 8, 2025.

The corpse of a dog appears – tines of a pitchfork embedded in its side and handle vertical to the sky.  Such is the “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.”

A young boy, intent on finding out who was responsible for the killing and why, clumsily and abruptly questions neighbors to little avail.  The boy, fifteen-year-old Christopher, can rattle off sequences of prime numbers and squares of numbers.  He also stumbles socially; shies from being touched; and refuses to use a toilet that hasn’t just been cleaned.  He is autistic.

The play’s storyline and its structure offer fascinating originality, and San Francisco Playhouse’s production, potently helmed by Director Susi Damilano, captures every bit of uniqueness in the script with a stunning, well-coordinated creative design.

The plot first concerns Christopher’s quest to solve the dog’s killing. Eventually, the perpetrator admits to the killing, but in one of the less satisfying aspects of the story, the action lacks a direct motive.  The other plot thread deals with the boy’s family.  During the narrative, he is told of his mother’s death from a heart attack, but his investigation into the dog’s death leads his seeking to learn more about his mother’s demise.

In a broader sense, however, the play goes beyond the plot and dives deeply into the world of autism.  Brendan Looney’s powerfully illuminating Christopher is more than a simple role portrayal, since he brings authenticity as a real-life autistic, logical but regimented and repetitive.  His depiction is deep and memorable.  He elicits sympathy with his inability to grasp social conventions, like the natural aversion others would have to his pet rat, and his difficulty interpreting others’ intentions and facial expressions.  But beyond its anchor in autism, the play is really about all outsiders who are treated with indifference or scorn by established society.

In Curious Incident… we see the world from the perspective of the autistic, who wants acceptance and understanding while not conforming with neurotypical standards.  We learn how those who are on-the-autistic-spectrum are often ill-treated.  For instance, while Christopher’s reading ability is clearly fine and his math skills are stratospheric, he must attend a school for the learning disabled.

Other than Looney’s breakout performance, an all-star cast fills the other roles, with several actors playing multiple roles, some anonymous and listed as voices.  Sophia Alawi performs the other lead role as Siobhan, Christopher’s teacher.  She acts as a narrator elaborating on the interactions of characters and sharing the boy’s unexpressed thoughts.  While her role is largely expository, offering little dramatic variation, Alawi carries it out with exceptional grace and charm.

Christopher’s parents comprise the remaining key roles, each actor embracing the desirable features and flaws of the characters.  Mark P. Robinson is fiery and demonstrative as Ed, who loves and protects his son.  He insists that the son not investigate the dog’s killing because it intrudes on other people’s lives.  But Ed lies about vital matters that the literal-minded boy cannot process with nuance or forgive.  As the mother, Judy, a passionate Liz Sklar also evidences her love for her son but reveals conflicting wants in her emotions and actions.

The teen’s journey through numerous clashes is a voyage of discovery and coming of age.  Having lived a protected life with narrow focus, retracing steps taken many times before, he will travel from a small, regional English city to London, confronting unknown horrors like escalators and the underground, uneasy about even how to enter them. 

In keeping with Christopher’s compartmentalization and disruptiveness, the action is divided into 57 fast-moving scenes, though a few seem unessential and slow the action.  Actors remain on stage most of the time and move frequently in lockstep and other times organically to Bridgette Loriaux’s brilliant movement direction.  James Ard’s sound design is pervasive and marvelously detailed from musical blipping to the faint sound of a toilet flushing.  This all plays against Bill English’s minimalist but powerful right-angled set framed by light strips and accented by Christian Mejia’s lighting design.  On the back wall of the stage, and in keeping with the angular look, Sarah Phykitt’s linear-graphic projections visually reflect Christopher’s mind which favors predictably organized things like computers and machines.

The play has earned plaudits and awards on Broadway and the West End.  The SF Playhouse production is a highly rewarding revival that informs, provokes, and entertains.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, adapted by Simon Stephens and based on the novel by Mark Haddon, is produced by San Francisco Playhouse and appears on its stage at 450 Post Street, San Francisco, CA through June 21, 2025.

Recent generations have witnessed the fragmentation of the traditional nuclear family, with perhaps the most common variation being the boomerang, in which adult children return home, often when the parents had adjusted to being empty nesters. Jeffery Lo’s world premier offers a partial-semi-not-totally autobiographical peek into that world with a play that is screamingly funny, sadly sad, and very interesting in its structure. If this review is shorter than my typical, note that I accepted press tickets from Hillbarn Theatre with the agreement that I wouldn’t review because of many prior commitments. And though this review is delayed because of travel, sometimes you just want to share something even when there is no obligation.

Portrayed by the always effective Jomar Tagatac, Jay is a 40-year-old, longtime wannabe playwright who is dumped by his girlfriend and leaves his unrewarding job in a rage. What to do in that situation when the financial wolf is at the door? Pack your bags and head for home – your childhood home.

Jay is Philippine-American and an only child whose father died when he was a youth. While his mother, Mary Gwen, loves him, she has been very disappointed that he hasn’t pursued a stable career, particularly in nursing like her, which is a major point of friction. And as sloppy as Jay is, his mother is correspondingly neat. A common flash point in boomerang arrangements like this is that the child has been independent for years and used to making decisions, but the parent may want the child to abide by the parent’s rules as a price for returning to the nest.

Mary Gwen is so insistent that Jay not become comfortable with this return engagement that she won’t allow him to use his old bedroom, but rather requires that he sleep on the living room couch. Jen Cuevas is remarkable as the determined Mary Gwen, with exquisite comic timing as she cajoles and badgers Jay with tough love. Even when Jay tries to make good, like by cooking pancit, Philippine noodles, for dinner, the two share a laugh when she asks that he not cook it again.

But the play’s special spirit derives when Jay’s new writing results in two actors materializing from the ether, playing out his thoughts. But unlike private dreams, Mary Gwen can also see the actors and realize how hackneyed Jay’s ideas are, like representing a couple fulfilling each other by having them place opposing arms up together. Brigitte Losey and Jamiel St. John as the actors are as funny as a gaggle of goofy ghosts on laughing gas. And add to the ethereal mix Jay’s deceased father, Ronaldo, played by an always smiling and empathetic Jepoy Ramos, who offers guidance to the anchorless Jay.

The dynamics of a parent-child relationship like this, even when the latter is an adult, will resonate with most of us. A parent often has goals for a child that the offspring doesn’t share. The parent’s disappointment then can irritate the child who seeks agency. Conversely, a child is often oblivious or dismissive of the sacrifices the parent makes in offering better opportunities for the youth. In fact, Jay’s parents had come to the U.S. to offer a better life for him. Yet, to manage his cognitive dissonance, Jay embraces the idea that they left the Philippines because it was not good for them, which wasn’t the case. The playwright’s situations and characterizations are highly relatable and will have many audience members laughing and crying alternately.

Director Reed Flores extracts crackling humor from the cast. Meanwhile, the production values soar, highlighted by Christopher Fitzer’s scenic design and Pamila Gray’s lighting. Playwright Jeffrey Lo is a local product with many notable directorial accomplishments. It would not be unreasonable to have serious reservations about the worth of a locally produced play written by a hometown hero, but in this case, no apologies are necessary. This script gets high marks for an appealing storyline with crackling dialog and fully developed characters, and the production lives up to the quality of the narrative.

Writing Fragments Home, written by Jeffrey Lo, is a world premiere produced by Hillbarn Theatre, and plays on its stage at 1285 East Hillsdale Blvd., Foster City, CA through May 4, 2025.

A score of years before the debut of Batman, the Caped Crusader, pulp writer Johnston McCulley introduced the character Zorro.  Like the superhero who followed, Zorro came from privilege; protected those in need; disguised himself with an upper-face mask and headdress; and wore a cape.  He also lived a conventional life outside of his disguise.

A pulp-fiction hero may seem an odd choice as an opera protagonist, but then again, consider some other central figures from operas that take place in Spanish locales – Figaro, a barber, and Carmen, a gypsy cigarette factory worker.  But El Zorro, the fox, offers flair and drama that play fluidly into common operatic tropes.

Opera San José presents Zorro, and everything about the production is a delight.  The music is a melodic pastiche of Romantic operatic idiom with strokes of mariachi, flamenco, and corrido (folk music).  There is even the recurrence of an ominous two-note death motif from Carmen.  The plot weaves love, selflessness, courage, betrayal, humor, and more among passionate and well-developed characters into a compelling narrative.

Singers and orchestra deliver admirable performances, and the scenic design and costumes create an ambiance to suit the place and time.  Two languages are used in the libretto, which itself is not unusual.  But when done, it is most common in opera that particular characters sing in their origin languages.  In this case, characters switch back and forth within a dialog.  Behind this device is the composer’s desire to use whichever language fits the specific musical phrases best. It should be noted that having a far greater number of open vowel sounds, Spanish is generally more suited to opera vocalizing than English.

With the opening swordfight scene, you might expect that you’re in for a swashbuckler.  But while there is more well-choreographed swordfighting to come, this is really the origin story for Diego becoming Zorro, with the first famous slashes of the Z coming just before intermission. 

The central social theme that relates to current times concerns discrimination.  Diego’s former best friend, Moncada, is now mayor of Los Angeles in New Spain in the early 1800’s.  He adopts policies to harass mestizos (mixed bloods), including Diego’s love interest, Ana Maria.  Diego’s commitment to fairness and righteousness comes in the gripping “Justice has no color,” which begins as an aria and builds voice by voice to become a stirring quartet.

Lyric tenor Xavier Prado as Diego/Zorro is well suited to the role with a strong singing voice and personable yet assertive acting.  Romantically, Diego loves Ana Maria, who is unrelated to him by blood but raised as his sister.  Soprano Maria Brea’s beautiful tone finds many opportunities to excel, with one of the best examples for her and for Prado being the lovely duet “Abrazame” (“Embrace me”).

Along the way, complicated liaisons evolve.  The always magnificently unforced and resonant baritone Eugene Brancoveanu plays the villain Moncada.  He holds sway over the patrician Doña Carlota as a result of his political power, but she is in love with Diego.  As the conflicted Carlota, mezzo-soprano Melisa Bonetti Luna shows her acting range in her complex relationships and her singing range in her well-sung, low tessitura lament.  And though Carlota’s boorishness makes her an unappealing character at the outset, she evolves into something admirable.

Comic relief comes in the form of the couple Sergeant Gomez, portrayed by bass-baritone Jesús Vicente Murillo, and Luisa, performed by Arianna Rodriguez.  Gomez is Moncada’s bumbling yet grounded gofer who can never do anything right in the eyes of his boss, but the spritely, dreamy Luisa thinks he has the bearing of a general.  Both voices are attractive and true, and Rodriguez conquers the highest tessitura in the score with ease.

For composer Héctor Armienta, Zorro represents homecoming in more ways than one.  Raised as an Angeleno, the story plays in the place of his youth.   This production occurs in his artistic home.  A resident of Oakland for two decades, he spawned Opera Cultura, a San Jose proponent of Latino musical arts, which was also a co-commissioner of the opera.

Virtually all aspects of the opera exceed expectation, with the exception of the flamenco.  The sound of the shoes on the floor is too faint to produce any excitement, as is the rhythmic clapping.  The scene feels like a throw-in, which if done, should be done with more flair.  Also, in a couple of instances, singers are inaudible as they face too far away from the center of the audience or are positioned too far upstage.

Zorro, with music and libretto by Héctor Armienta, is a co-production by Opera San José, Kentucky Opera, and Arizona Opera, and plays at California Theater, 345 South First Street, San Jose, CA through May 4, 2025.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.  The more that time marches on, the less knowledgeable about history we become.  Youth today, living in their time bubble, probably feel that the “#Me Too” movement was delivered by virgin birth.  But evolutionary threads exist for virtually any human occurrence.

Marin Theatre offers the energized and rowdy It’s True, It’s True, It’s True, a fascinating look at a seemingly rare and riveting event.  It is the story of Artemisia Gentileschi, a noted Baroque painter, who as a teenager produced masterworks and would become an esteemed court painter and whose works appear at several major museums.  At the age of 15 she was raped by an older male artist, Agostino Tassi in Rome in 1612.  Unusually, Artemisia, a female minor in a heavily patriarchal culture, possessed the determination to have Agostino tried, and the play is fact-based on the transcripts of the court proceedings.  The play provides some backstory, and otherwise, shares direct testimony from the trial and its outcome.

This is a “he-said, she-said” which will evoke memories of moderns like Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill, Donald Trump/E. Jean Carroll, and Brett Kavanaugh/Christine Blasey Ford.  And like these modern cases, the main line of defense was to vilify the accuser by depicting her as a fallen woman or an attention seeker.  In Artemisia’s case, testimony by Agostino’s associates of her many trysts was even found to be false.

The action of the play is boisterous, replete with explicit language, simulated sex, and partial nudity, driven by a surprising and unusual script delivered by an all-female cast, perhaps in a nod to feminism.  The performances by all four women are absolutely exemplary.  My personal favorite is Maggie Mason displaying the confidence and pride of the devious Agostino who led Artemisia along after the rape, suggesting that they would marry.  Keiko Shimosato Carreiro is also highly animated as Tuzia, a neighbor who became a surrogate mother to Artemisia, watching over her and providing essential support and information at the trial.

Alicia M.P. Nelson is the judge, nominally a part with less to do, but with her interventions and wry delivery, she gives the part vitality.  Finally, Emily Anderson portrays Artemisia, a youth in age, restrained in her anger and with conviction to stay the course in the trial.  In a shocking twist, she survives a perverse lie detector test in which she is subjected by the judge to thumbscrews to somehow prove that her testimony is legitimate.

Although the production is small, it is handsome.  Pamela Rodriguez-Montero has created hybrid costumery that spans the centuries.  Matt Stines’ sound design and Marshall’s lighting enhance the overall feel of Mikiko Uesugi’s simple but suitable scenic design for the intimate Lieberman Theatre.  Director Rebecca Wear integrates all of the pieces and drives the pace to create a gripping sense of urgency.

The play’s structure is somewhat eccentric in that the narrative is punctuated several times by musical performances from the four actors.  It feels strange to experience them doing punk songs, with the ingénue-looking Anderson propelling a gritty-sounding guitar like a buzzsaw while others beat on percussion.  The music is fun, but it’s hard to catch enough of the lyrics to know if they contribute to the story line.  You might wonder why these interludes.  Perhaps they make a symbolic link across the 400 years, supporting the notion that today is not so different from yesterday.

There is also a play within a play, the Biblical story of Susanna and the Elders.  It relates to the main narrative on multiple levels.  In 1610, Artemisia actually depicted the sexual attack by the elders in a painting.  Unlike other paintings by males on this theme, she shows Susannah to be distressed and rejecting the attention.  The selection of the subject may have represented advances that she suffered from men before the rape occurred.

There are other presences and absences that one may wish were a little different.  If you think the words “it’s true” in the title are repeated more than necessary, wait until you hear Artemisia repeat the words tens of times with varying emphasis.  What’s missing is projections of Artemisia’s paintings, which would add credibility to her claimed reputation as an artist.  Finally, some playwrights expect the audience to pick up on character names and shifts in how characters are identified the first time they are mentioned. Some audience members were left in the lurch because multiple, long Italian names were introduced too quickly.

That said, despite its brief 75 minutes including musical diversions, It’s True, It’s True, It’s True covers considerable ground concerning justice and women’s rights, process, history, art, and more.  Those with appropriate interests will find the play highly interesting and rewarding.

It’s True, It’s True, It’s True written by Billy Barrett and Ellice Stevens, is produced by Marin Theatre and plays on its stage at 397 Miller Ave., Mill Valley, CA through May 4, 2025.