What a difference a comma can make, or a space.  One can be excused for instinctively evoking the great Ben E. King performed song “Stand By Me” or the Stephen King based boys coming-of-age film of the same name when seeing this title.

Rather, this paean to stage performers who sit in the wings waiting and hoping to go on, standbys among them, was a solo cabaret performance produced by Bay Area Cabaret at the Fairmont Hotel’s Venetian Room.  It starred winsome singer, raconteuse, and Broadway celebrity Julie Benko, who has extensive experience having been there.  She was in good voice and charmed with her many vignettes from her stage experience.

Appropriately, Ms Benko opened the show with a nice rendition of the century-old “Second Hand Rose,” made famous by Fanny Brice.  Why appropriately?  Both because Benko played Fanny Brice, the lead role in the recent Broadway revival of “Funny Girl” over 180 times, and because she did it in three different capacities – as standby, interim replacement, and alternate.

Benko and her pianist/husband Jason Yeager participated in endless repartee about the definitions of these and other terms for stand-in performers, but we’ll get them resolved up front.  And while some are often used interchangeably, each has a specific application.

Starting with Benko’s “Funny Girl” experience, a standby is responsible for a single track (the theater term for role).  An interim replacement has full time responsibility for the track in the interim between major stars performing it.  In this case, Benko played Fanny Brice for five weeks after Beanie Feldstein left the musical and until Lea Michele arrived.  An alternate has committed performances, and for this role Benko replaced Michele every Thursday.  An understudy has their own track but is a stand-in for a bigger principal, while a swing performs ensemble and is prepared to sub in for multiple principals.

The main tenet of using stand-ins is that the show must go on, and the key for the stand-in is not to sparkle, but simply to fill the track professionally.  In conjunction with singing “Matchmaker” Benko told the amusing story of having been a swing in the Broadway revival of “Fiddler on the Roof,” responsible for four ensemble roles and all four of Tevye’s daughters.  Stand-ins don’t rehearse with the main cast, and once when she subbed in as daughter Chava, she and Jessica Hecht as Tevya’s wife Golde ran to one another to embrace.  They tilted their heads in the same direction, and the collision broke open a river of blood from Benko’s nose onto their costumes, but she still had to deliver her lines as if nothing happened!

Benko sang other songs from musicals she performed in, garnering enthusiastic applause from the audience.  Although she understudied the Cosette track in “Les Miserables,” she delivered Fantine’s anthem “I Dreamed a Dream,” full throttled to great appreciation.  She closed the set with “People” from “Funny Girl.”  It’s hard to imagine that song being sung without channeling Barbra Streisand at least a little, and while Benko did, she varied the phrasing and the edges of the melody line enough to make it her own.

Overall, Benko’s vocalization was traditional Broadway, somewhat nasal with a rolling tremolo and powering to a controlled wail when needed.  She showed some versatility by taking on a novelty song about the stresses of auditioning, which she did humorously and in a juvenile voice. 

To display other styles, she regaled with a non-theatrical experience she competed in, the annual American Traditions competition in Savannah, in which contestants who make it all the way to the finals must sing in nine different genres.  Benko’s numbers to sing blues (song unknown to me) and folk (“Leaving on a Jet Plane”) were nicely done, but very Broadway, lacking the distinctive character and sounds of the genres.  For jazz, however, she gave a scat singing rendition of “I Love Paris” that really popped.

There was also a moral to the story of the competition.  After the trials, Benko received a rejection, saying that she had not been accepted but was listed as an alternate that might be called if another contestant dropped out.  Of course, not only was she called, but despite failing the qualifying round, she ended up winning the competition.  Like being a wannabe in theater, the message is to continue to believe in yourself and keep striving.

After the well-deserved standing ovation for her set-closing song “People,” she delighted the audience with an encore.  Appropriately, what else could it be but a gruff and howling “Stand By Me”?

“Standby, Me,” a cabaret performance by Julie Benko, was produced by Bay Area Cabaret and was presented at the Venetian Room of the Fairmont Hotel, 950 Mason Street, San Francisco, CA on April 14, 2024.

Among life’s most enriching experiences are the lessons learned from observing or participating in other cultures.  Opportunities for cross-cultural interaction are almost unlimited in the Bay Area and contribute significantly to our knowledgeable, empathetic, and tolerant population.  Among the many immigrant groups inhabiting our region, Afghanis are well represented, their diasporas having been induced by the warring of domestic tribal leaders, the Russian invasion, the American War in Afghanistan, and the draconian Taliban rule.

Having a diplomatic father who received political asylum, Afghan-born novelist Khaled Hosseini has lived in the U.S. from the age of 15, settling in the Bay Area.  His heritage has informed his writings, starting with his wildly successful 2003 novel “The Kite Runner,” which was closely adapted for the stage in 2009 by Matthew Spangler and first appeared in this theater.

The narrative is seen through the eyes of Amir, first as a teenager in Kabul starting in 1973 and then as an Afghan-American author in San Francisco from 2001.  One conceit in casting is that adult actor Ramzi Khalaf plays Amir at the disparate ages.  He uses voice, gesture, and movement to simulate the teen, and though the device is jarring and may be off-putting at first, it soon becomes just another item in the list for suspending disbelief in a theater production.

Semi-autobiographical elements have been acknowledged by Hosseini, beginning with his “survivor’s guilt” for not suffering along with those who were left behind, which is depicted in the storyline.  Also like Amir, Hosseini came from the privileged class, emigrated to the U.S., and became an author.  Amir is taunted as being a tourist in his own country by his bullying nemesis because of his wealth and status, which Hosseini now doubt heard having lived in Paris and Tehran for several years.

The plot covers several important themes – friendship; parent/child relationships; tribalism and discrimination; and moral failure, courage, and redemption.  The central symbol is the kite, and kite fighting was an important sport for teenage boys.

Until the age of 12, Amir was somewhat cloistered, and his best friend was Hassan, unusual because Hassan’s father was servant to Amir’s father.  Further, Hassan was illiterate and from the Hazara tribe, which is Shiite rather than the dominant Sunni practiced by Pashtuns.  Hazaras suffered great discrimination and even genocide from Pashtuns in earlier times and later from the Taliban when they took command of the government.

Children are taught bigotry, and even though the boys had an unequal relationship, it was not tribal or religious, but rather patrician versus peon.  But in one area, Hassan held sway.  He was a skilled kite runner.  Kite competitors were allowed an assistant, and Hassan had a sense for anticipating movement and a nose for the tactics to bring other kites down.

Amir’s mother died in birthing him, and his father, Baba, played by an irascible and overbearing Haythem Noor, saw nothing but failure in his son despite the boy’s literary accomplishments.  But winning a kite competition should placate Baba, and with Hassan on his side, Amir can compete for victory.

Despite Hassan’s loyalty and courage, after the two suffer from bullies, Amir betrays Hassan.  This abandonment will change the lives of both, and the consequences will haunt Amir.

Before the action intensifies, the author and playwright do a fine job of establishing the characters’ characters and defining the socio-politico-religious context.  Following the turning point are riveting instances of betrayal, sacrifice, flight to freedom, abandonment, obstacles, harassment, threats, deaths, courageous risk taking, and some heartwarming events.

Though the play reveals numerous culture-specific issues, the universality of human challenges comes through.  The drama strikes a nice balance between the macro events of the periods involved and those of individuals whose consequences will not tip a societal scale.

The production is professional with fine acting and sharp scenic design employing low lighting configurations throughout.  One distraction is that several performers play multiple parts, and their different looks aren’t always sufficiently differentiated.  The gender balance is poor with only one female having significant stage time and impact.  In defense of the author, his follow up novel “A Thousand Splendid Suns” focuses on similar issues from the female perspective.

“The Kite Runner” is written by Matthew Spangler from the novel by Khaled Hosseini, with the Broadway touring production produced locally by San Jose State University’s Hammer Theatre and En Acte Arts, and plays at the Hammer, 101 Paseo de San Antonio, San Jose, CA through April 7, 2024.

You might wonder what the 500-year-old Belgian tradition of counting the frequency that birds repeat their call and a 20^th century tennis match have to do with one another.  Well, both are/were esteemed competitions represented in one-act operas produced by the ever-inventive Opera Parallèle at SF Jazz, the latter piece holding its world premiere.

The unifying conceit is that a non-singing “Howard Cosell” announces the contests as ABC Wide World of Sports broadcasts.  The result is a highly amusing and entertaining, if untraditional, night at the opera.

“Vinkensport, or the Finch Opera” provides an incisive look into this unique Belgian activity.  In a nod to Cosellism, that character refers to the outcome of the match as “the trill of victory, and the agony of the tweet!”  Birding might seem to be the last refuge from vicious competition.  Regardless, in trying to induce the greatest number of song repeats by one-ounce, opera-diva chaffinches in the prescribed time, owners have abused their birds in oh so many ways.

Banned in large measure because of a Thomas Hardy poem decrying the practice, finches were formerly blinded so that their singing would be more focused.  Also as implied or expressed in the opera, real-life competitors have used hidden tape recorders to fudge the numbers; injected birds with various drugs to give them more strength and stamina; and used artificial light to induce them to perceive the spring mating season at the time of the competition.

Award-winning modern music composer David T. Little has produced an accessible musical score that bridges opera and rock sensibilities but with limited vocal challenges.  Given his background as a drummer, the percussive nature of the music is no surprise, but the rhythm comes from tonal instruments, including marimba and vibes.  The counting of the songs is noted by a recurring “tick, tick, tick, tally,” but we don’t hear the imitated sounds of the birds.

For such a brief opera, librettist Royce Vavrek reveals not just the nature of the competition, but also unmasks the competitors.  On the surface, the people and the situations seem amiable, even laughable, but many challengers are loners or losers.  The narrative discloses backstories, subtexts, and discontent as they take turns exposing their thoughts, often aloud through anthropomorphizing their birds. Indeed, we learn the names of the birds, but not the people.

For instance, one female competitor had found her husband in flagrante delicto.  Now, one of the male competitors considers her a stalker, but he toils in loneliness as expressed in his closing aria.  Another felt abandoned as a child because of his father’s love of vinkensport, but he competes even though he expresses hate for it.

The ensemble cast deftly adopts the personalities of these quirky characters.  They act and sing their clumsy interactions and inner feelings with big heart and fine voices.

Like many undertakings in life, the opera discloses that what becomes an obsession for some carries no importance whatsoever to most of society around them.  Although the stakes are low in this opera, the offbeat and unfamiliar topic; interesting character representations; dark humor; and light music make for a worthwhile time spent.

Unlike the unassuming unknowns from the previous opera, “Balls” brims with brio in recounting the “Battle of the Sexes.”  This highly publicized 1973 tennis match between Bobby Riggs and Billy Jean King would attract the largest viewership of any tennis match ever.  The lively opera shows Riggs’ taunting and braggadocio; the media frenzy with television interviews; and even the over-the-top pageantry with King being conveyed to the court in a palanquin to the strains of the “Triumphal March from Aida,” while Riggs arrives as an advertisement, displaying the yellow and red livery of Sugar Daddy candy bars.

A multiple award winner in multiple musical idioms, composer Laura Karpman keeps the audience guessing what’s next with a wide range of genres from bouncy pop and bluesy blues to operatic-style arias.  She also uses all manner of ensembles to enrich the sound as well as a capella supported by syncopated clapping by the orchestra.  This mix of non-operatic styles may not suit traditionalists, but should satisfy those looking for freshness and variety.

Nikola Printz excels with confidence and elan as Billy Jean King, able to maintain a steady and rich mezzo voice even while flailing away with a tennis racquet.  Nathan Granner is Printz’s equal as Riggs, clowning and voicing profound gruffness, as he did in “Vinkensport…..” as well, which depicts great passion, but doesn’t it hurt his throat?

In addition to the competition of the tennis match itself, undercurrents add to the complexity of Gail Collins’ libretto.  Feminism is an agenda item, as King was motivated by women’s rights to accept Riggs’ challenge.  But the composer also wanted to reveal King’s lesbian relationship with Marilyn Barnett, winsomely portrayed by soprano Tiffany Austin, who dreamily sings a blues ballad about hoping to share a house in Malibu with King.

The binding of these two operas with Wide World of Sports framing and the incidental connective music to allow them to show without a break are just the beginning of the ingenuity of Creative Director Brian Staufenbiel and Artistic Director & Conductor Nicole Paiement.  Staufenbiel’s multimedia scenic design with David Murakami’s projections is one more step taken by this team in the enhancement of conventional opera with electronic elements, following their innovations with “Everest” and “La Belle et le Bête.”  In this program, the backstories of characters in “Vinkensport…..” are shown in bigger-than-life projection videos.  In “Balls” they are used for historic footage, period advertisements, and extensions of the sporting arena.

As usual, Paiement conducts with decisiveness and enthusiasm the two different orchestras for the operas.  But more than that, she and the whole production team seem to have fun with this undertaking.  They deserve to have pleasure, and they still give it back to the audience in a most enjoyable experience.

“Vinkensport, or the Finch Opera,” composed by David T. Little with libretto by Royce Vavrek plus “Balls,” a world premiere composed by Laura Karpman with libretto by Gail Collins are produced by Opera Parallèle and perform at SF Jazz, 201 Franklin Street, San Francisco, CA through April 7, 2024.

Readers of this review no doubt prefer to know something about a play before committing to see it.  So do I under most circumstances.  In this case, the script of “Kristina Wong, Sweatshop Overlord” was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, and the play won Outer Critics Circle, Lucille Lortel, and Drama Desk Awards for solo performance on its off-Broadway run.  What more do you need to know?

Well, much to my surprise, the play is not about exploitive labor practices by the garment industry in Asia and elsewhere.  Instead, it is the playwright/actor’s autobiography of her time during the Covid pandemic.  While the topic was unexpected, the quality of the script is not, given its well-deserved kudos.  Delivered with passion, pathos, and humor, Kristina Wong’s performance crackles, sparkles, and pops.  Its message of caring and contributing, even in a small way and to beneficiaries unknown, resonates deeply.

Starting in March, 2020, and particularly during the period of shelter-in-place orders, most of us simply retreated into our cocoons.  Through selective amnesia, many of us have already suppressed memories of how frightening that period was, with brave medical people losing their lives in droves and ultimately, over one million Americans dying from the disease.

Like other Asian-American women, Kristina Wong had been taught to play it safe, keep her head down to avoid challenging authority, to cook, and to sew.  This last skill would be put to use to help fend off the pandemic.  In the early days, the medical community identified masking as key to reducing Covid transmission, but supply of masks woefully failed to meet demand.

Wong’s performance art was involuntarily placed on a hard pause, leading her to question her decision to forego family building for her career.  Otherwise unengaged, and having been conditioned to live in the shadow of failure, she nonetheless decided to sew and distribute cloth masks and then to enlist others to support the cause.

Social media and electronic meeting technology were among the rare positive byproducts of social isolation during the pandemic. Through technology and friendship snowballing, Wong was able to build a cadre of hundreds of volunteers donating many thousands of masks to those in need.  In the Asian tradition, these mostly older and mostly Asian women became her aunties.  She dubbed the collective as the Auntie Sewing Squad, and yes, she knew the resulting acronym.  Wong introduces us to some of the aunties and shares the challenges they confronted and how they soldiered on, overcoming issues concerning cloth, elastic banding, mailing, and more.

On a set with big, brightly colored items evoking a day care rumpus room, Wong regales and engages the audience with her experiences.  She prowls the stage with grand gestures and high energy, breaking the fourth wall to directly engage with the audience.  But her emotion of despair swells when she speaks of the dark forces of antagonism and ignorance.  One wonders how she can summon and enact these very personal experiences night after night, but her conviction powers her through her unflinching performance.

This is not an unstaged, solemn, static, stand-and-deliver exercise like Will Rogers spinning yarns or Harry Truman giving ‘em hell.  Chay Yew’s direction gives the depth of production usually seen in fully-staged plays rather than solo performances.  In addition to Junghyun Georgia Lee’s simple but well-suited scenic design, Amith Chandrashaker’s sharp and varied lighting gives a dramatic look, while Caite Hevner’s projections give not-all-too-happy visual reminders of this recent past.  Mikhail Fiksel and Adam Salberg’s bombastic sound punctuates the lively events effectively. If there is any weakness in the production, it would be that it plays on the long side for a solo performance.

To conclude that “Kristina Wong, Sweatshop Overlord” only stands as a self-congratulatory tribute would be mistaken.  The two-tiered narrative switches between personal and societal commentary, with the latter being haunted by her assailing society’s failures.  Those readers who fall into the correlated factions of anti-masking, anti-vax, anti-science, racist, conspiracy theory, pathological lying, and culture wars promoters (read – collectively, socio-political conservatives) may not wish to read on.

The show sadly recounts the many tragic events that occurred during the pandemic, from George Floyd’s killing to Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death.  The sad ignorance of some people and the pernicious promotion of anti-vax, anti-masking sentiment as a political wedge issue undermined the work of Wong and multitudes of others who sought to help humanity, irrespective of political persuasion.  Worse, lies about masking and vaccination caused the deaths of many thousands of people.

Understandably, the most personal of the fractious issues was the cynical finger pointing at China for the Covid outbreak.  Savagely referring to the disease by names like kung flu and Chinese Covid gave rise to intolerable threats and worse to all Asians, especially by those with white supremacist leanings.  To express what the playwright only implies, the political party with conservative bent, Republicans, failed to repudiate this and other extremism, fanning the flames of division and risking to douse the light of American democracy as we know it.

“Kristina Wong, Sweatshop Overlord,” written by Kristina Wong, is produced by American Conservatory Theater and plays on its Strand Theater stage, 1127 Market Street, San Francisco, CA through May 5, 2024.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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