Ride the Cyclone is an Un-missable Ride

Holy shit Becca Hart. 

Photo by Dan Norman

Pardon the profanity, but I'm just not sure how else to describe one of #tctheater's buzziest ingenues without it. Her performance in the Jungle's season opener Ride the Cyclone - which is a wild ride overall and worth seeing - is a standout that I'm calling early on as one of the best of the year. It's an audacious claim, I know, but I think it's warranted.

Photo by Dan Norman

Backing up a bit - Ride the Cyclone is a new musical that tells the story of a quintet of high school musicians, all of whom are killed as they ride a roller coaster called the cyclone. They are invited by a talking carnie machine named Karnak to play a game for the chance for one of the students to return to real life. The rules? They must unanimously vote for who they send back, which is tough with teenage attitudes running high. The wild card? A headless body was found under the cyclone, that of ghostly Jane Doe. No one knows who Jane is (including Jane herself), so she is entered to play with the five classmates for the chance to return and learn who she really was. Each player spins the wheel to make a case for their shot at Life 2.0, giving a solo about their distinct pasts and what we need to know about them. There are a few surprises revealed during these acts - an obsession with Weimar-era French drag; a fantasy about space sex with a race of kittens; an obsessive goody two shoes who couldn't be more insufferable if she tried; a surprisingly romantic Ukrainian whose tough facade reveals a goey sentimental center; and a lonely but kind girl who struggles to define herself outside of her peer's expectations. It's Mean Girls meets Phantom of the Opera (the Love Never Dies version, to be specific) with a sprinkle of Pippin, a truly weird mix of things that somehow works.

Photo by Dan Norman

The plot can get a little loose at times (if you can't tell in a previous paragraph, there's a *lot* happening here) and some of the stereotypes presented in the way the characters are written could use refinement, but overall I was surprised how well this show worked. That is high key thanks to the amazing performances, which are executed with a crisp military precision that makes the whole thing sparkle. At the heart of it (pun intended) is Becca Hart as the ghastly Jane Doe. I literally gasped the second she appeared on stage; her performance, but particularly her body work and choreography, is truly extraordinary. Nothing about her looks as if it's of this earth, and my jaw dropped several times as she floated through the stage. It's a stunning performance and worth your ticket price alone - do not miss this one, as it's going to be the talk of the town for months to come.

Photo by Dan Norman

The rest of the cast is excellent too. Jim Lichtscheidl (who also masterminded that crisp choreography) brings a striking physical performance as Karnak; he barely blinks and moves just like a machine. His otherworldly performance ties the loose stories of the students together, and he's a magnificent anchor for the show. Shinah Brashears lends her clarion voice as Ocean, the perfectionist that could, and her deliciously hateful performance could be in Mean Girls itself. Gabrielle Dominique is lovely as the shy Constance; I wish she had more time to shine. Michael Hanna is riveting as always as the dark Mischa, clearly having the time of his life. Josh Zwick relishes the strip you never saw coming as Noel, and although probably the weakest of the cast vocally, his charismatic performance is a lot of fun to watch. And Jordan Leggett goes all in as the crippled Ricky; he gives a full commitment that has more than a little Prince in it, and it's a welcomely weird surprise.

Photo by Dan Norman

This production design is one of my favorites in a long time that I've seen anywhere. Chelsea Warren's set design has so many layers, from Karnak's magical box to the handsome carousel with hidden projections and clues to the contestant's pasts; it's hyper-detailed and gorgeous. Trevor Bowen's costume design is wildly imaginative and it's so fun watching the crew prance around through various fantasies. Marcus Dilliard's lighting design and Sean Healey's sound design is seamlessly detailed, down to the crank activating each round of the game and the twinkling lights on each ride. Kathy Maxwell makes the most creative use of projection I've seen in a while, melting into the set design as one cohesive whole. Paul Bigot's wig and makeup design creates distinct characters for each performer. And the props design by John Novak shows the same care and attention to detail that makes every element of the show stand out.

Photo by Dan Norman

There's really no way to adequately encapsulate Ride the Cyclone into a textual review; all I can do is encourage readers to go and enter a world that is truly unlike any I've seen before. The season blurb online didn't really engage me - I decided to go because I trust the Jungle and wanted to know what they'd do with something so abstract, and I was more than rewarded. Becca Hart is truly transformative in this role, and I'm calling it as her star-maker performance in a run that's had several standouts so early on. The rest of this young cast is eager and talented and vivacious too, and you can't help catching some of the sparkle they release through their performances. It won't take much of your time - 90 minutes without intermission - but it will definitely leave you feeling changed. I can't think of a better show to usher in the Halloween season. Make sure to get your tickets before they disappear on October 20; click here for more information or to buy some.

Pangea World Theater's "Mother Courage" is Worth Consideration

What makes a good mother? 

*Correction: I unintentionally misspelled the name of Marcela Michelle as Marcella Mobama in my initial review; I apologize for the mistake and have corrected it here. 

That's always been a mercurial question, but it's harder to answer than it seems. We live in an era of helicopter parenting, and while there seems to be a backlash coming - what is the alternative? Do we want to return to the days of moms doing martini lunches sitting bored at home all day and chain smoking Mad Men style? Where's the healthy balance?

Asking the question far more dramatically than Matthew Weiner ever did is Bertolt Brecht's legendary play Mother Courage and Her Children (Mother Courage), now being produced by the delightful Pangea World Theater (Pangea) at the equally delightful Lab Theater in the North Loop. Mother Courage details the story of a woman of the same name as she navigates the devastating 30 Years' War over the course of 12 years (in 12 scenes). Mother Courage travels to the battlefront in hopes of profiting off of others' misfortunes but quickly finds her own; first one (Swiss Cheese, the honest), then the other son (Eilif, the brave) are recruited by the army and die in equally sad ways. Her mute daughter Kattrin eventually dies as well after many years of hard toil and suffering at her mother's side. Various figures of the war, from soldiers to peasants to prostitutes to generals to cooks, waft in and out of Mother Courage's orbit and illuminate the deep level of suffering the war caused. Overarching the show is the question - what kind of mother brings her children into a war zone (and then lets them leave to die)? But in a world of poverty and devastation, at the end of the day - what kind of mother wouldn't try to take advantage when no other options were left?

This is the second Pangea show I've had the pleasure of seeing, and let me say: they are really a delightful bunch doing incredible work under the radar. Despite the heavy material, Mother Courage still has a lot of heart, hope and entertainment wrapped within it. The darkness won't leave you feeling depressed by the end, and that's mostly due to the passionate and charismatic cast. Almost all the actors serve in multiple roles, and they convincingly paint a much wider picture than their small numbers would indicate. Favorites for me included Marcela Michelle as a duty-bound soldier; Clay Man Soo as convicted recruit Eilif; Ricardo Beaird as the deceptively charming cook; and Adlyn Carreras as the wily, empathetic Mother Courage. They all find small details that breathe their characters into life (such as Beaird's pipe and Mobama's sooted soldier's face) and tackle this material with full humanity. I also want to call out that this performance uses some of the most impeccable diction I've ever heard on stage (thanks to vocal coach Mira Kehoe); Brecht can be a little winding and obtuse, but their care with the dialogue and characterization ensures that nothing gets lost in translation.

This is somehow my first time ever attending a show at the Lab Theater and I have to tell you - I have been completely missing out! It's a stunning setting that gives plenty of room for the mobile set (mostly comprising of a wagon and accouterments, designed sturdily by Orin Herfindal) to breathe and easily implies the starry night skies of a battlefield. Costumes, designed by Mary Ann Kelling, are generally simple but feature the same careful and iconic attention to detail as the actors pay to their parts. Mike Olson composed music to punctuate the script and mimic Brecht's iconic dissonant style, and with musician Homer Lambrecht he provides an audible context for the tone of each scene. Overall, director Dipankar Mukherjee's vision is clearly realized and emotionally conveyed by this eager creative team both on and behind stage, and I really appreciated the obvious care with which they approached this material.

Brecht's purpose in writing this play (allegedly within only a single month in 1939) was to bring awareness within Germany to the dangers of the swiftly rising forces of Fascism and Nazism. Unfortunately we all know how that story ended, but one hopes that staging Mother Courage in our modern era - another time when Facism seems to be gaining quick and terrifying popularity at locations around the world - will help educate audiences toward another, better outcome. Don't let the idea of Brecht or the subject matter scare you away from seeing Mother Courage; it's a very well made show with a gorgeous program that will explain everything you didn't know, and the performers will leave you with an emotional, heartfelt performance. If you've made the rounds of the heavyweights in the local theater circuit (the Ordways and Guthries and Hennepin Theater Trusts and yes, even the Jungles) - and if you're reading this I'm guessing you've attended each of those venues a time or three - consider branching out into a lesser known (but by NO means less important) local theater company that is also beautifully producing "classic" work. Pangea's mission to support diversity and true, genuine inclusion at all levels of a production is more of what we need to see in the world (aka providing solutions), and your dollar will go much further there to spread throughout the local arts community than it will at theaters with much shiner endowment lists. Mother Courage runs through March 31; for more information and to buy tickets, click on this link.

Reliving the Past with The Laramie Project

Here's to hoping history stops repeating itself. 

Photo by Shannon TL Kearns

It's always amazing to me how imperfectly progress on social issues is made. Causes will fight for decades on an issue with little to no improvement - or maybe even sustain severe setbacks - only to jolt society light-years into the future with a single strategic win in the courts or passing of a radical piece of legislation.

The slow pace of moving towards a better world is important to remember in times like these, when so many of us feel like we are slipping further and further into the dark ages. It's not uncommon for things to get worse before they get better, and a great way to remind ourselves of that is to pay tribute to the epochal moments that catapulted us forward in the first place.

To make an imperfect parallel as an example of such a moment: if the Stonewall riots were the LGBTQIA movement's iteration of Martin Luther King Jr.'s march to Selma (thanks to Marsha Johnson - whose name we all should remember vividly), the murder of Matthew Shepard might have been its Emmett Till. The persecution of LGBTQIA people has always been a part of our history - nothing proved that like the lack of urgency surrounding treatment and research for AIDS victims - so there isn't really a visible reason that Shepard's death should have resonated so widely. Yet, often it takes the mundanity of violence to finally reveal just how awful human nature is and how strongly it must be corrected. Reports of Shepard's last hours of suffering after a brutal beating, documented after a biker found Shepard zip tied to a fence and fatally abused, shocked and horrified the nation and marked the beginning of a shift in attitudes that culminated in passing civil rights protections based on gender and sexual identity, legalizing same sex marriage, and an ongoing national feud over protections for transgender people across the whole political spectrum.

The thing that fascinates me most about this is: why Shepard? Why do we care so much about him, specifically? Why not one of the other many thousands of LGBTQIA folks who have been hounded, killed, or assaulted over decades? I'm not sure anyone can ever develop a clear answer for this. The Laramie Project, part one of The Laramie Cycle and now under performance from Uprising Theatre Company, is probably the best attempt to frame Shepard's death in a way we can understand. It's a clear-eyed look at the tragedy through a collection of journal entries, interviews, and observations made by a theatrical team shortly after Shepard's death caught national attention in 1998. It's a fascinating show that reminds me a little of Season 1 True Detective, a foray into the world of #truecrime that gives us a far more nuanced view of middle America and the issue of violence against LGBTQIA people than we often hear elsewhere in the media. There isn't really a star or even a main character; instead, by collecting a wide range of perspectives about who Matthew Shepard was and what was so different about Laramie, Wyoming (the city in which he was killed), we get a telescopic point of view that might illuminate just why we can never take current freedoms for granted.

One of the things I like about Uprising Theatre Company is they always include a fresh face on stage. This is truly an ensemble cast, and they weave through the various narratives swiftly and delicately. There are several brand new actors to #tctheater performing here - Bruce Manning, Juliette Aaslestad, and Michael Novak all do a great job. Directors Sarah Catcher and Ashley Hovell expertly blend these fresh faces with more experienced performers like Tia Tanzer, Jessica Thompson Passaro, Seth Matz and Baku Campbell. The result is a cast with a wide representation, mimicking Laramie's surprising diversity and keeping each transition between monologues fresh. I really enjoyed these performers, who approach this difficult subject with finesse and a total lack of artifice that gives it a heightened emotional impact.

This impact is facilitated by the nearly nonexistent production design, which is essentially a collection of black boxes, a screen, and a few strategically chose small props. Combined with the simple lighting design from Jake Otto; intermittent projection design from Daniel Mauleon; and basic costume pieces that are easily changed between characters right on stage, it allows us to pay attention to the developing narrative and strips away anything that might distract from the purpose of The Laramie Project: Matthew Shepard's life and legacy in changing hearts and minds.

There couldn't be a better time to pull this show off; after all, this year marks the 20th anniversary of Shepard's death (almost to the day), and it feels like we receive daily stories of rights and protections, so recently won and so hard fought for, being stripped away with ease. It's easy to take for granted that the rights claimed by previous generations are an immutable certainty, but the fact is that we are always at risk of sliding backwards. Without intentional, consistent advocacy to continue to push our boundaries further we will never achieve the fair world that Matthew Shepard (and so many others like him) truly deserved. Learning about the people of Laramie, Wyoming and Shepard's life is one of the best ways I can think of to understand where we need to go to change hearts and minds and protect our LGBTQIA family. I enjoyed viewing this important piece of work, and I can think of no better tribute to Matthew Shepard than to stop by Plymouth Congregational Church to see this show (or its followup partner, The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later - you can see both as part of the full Laramie Cycle) before it closes on November 17. For more information or to buy tickets, click here.

And don't forget: if you want to know what you can do to protect rights already hard-won, it's pretty simple to start: Make sure you vote on November 6. Learn more about where and how by clicking here. 

The Top 7 Reasons to See Carmen at the Mill City Summer Opera

When the weather matches the mood of your show, you know you've got something powerful going on. 

Photo by Dan Norman

I have always been a great lover of opera, so it saddens me that I haven't had a chance to see many performances in the last few years! Something always seems to prevent me from heading to St. Paul for the delicious work the Minnesota Opera has been doing lately, so I'm stuck instead listening to recordings and dreaming of sensual production design in my apartment.

I was delighted, then, to receive an invitation to attend this year's Mill City Summer Opera, one of the many unique venue performances that arise throughout the summer and always a fun experience. This year MCSO is performing Carmen; there was no way I was going to pass up an opportunity to go, so I headed over to a dress rehearsal last week to check it out.

It's a good thing the performance was a dress rehearsal because Don Juan was out sick and the performance was cancelled halfway through due to a freakily tempestuous rain storm. It doesn't matter though, because I was still treated to an hour and a half of gloriously romantic music that only whetted my appetite for more. How can I claim that you should go see a show I didn't even get to finish? Let me count the ways:

1. It's Carmen. I know there are shows and artists that can be over-hyped, but trust this opera lover: Carmen isn't one of them. A true masterpiece by Georges Bizet, Carmen has everything you love in opera (or any good story to be honest) - high drama, romance, swashbuckling masculinity, memorable themes, lyrical arias, and the sexiest damn singers you ever did see. It's like a pirate ship for music, how can you go wrong? 
2. Flamenco. It's not advertised anywhere on the website and we didn't get programs to confirm, but I'm 90% sure that several of the Twin Cities' resident flamenco studio Zorongo's performers are on stage throughout the performance, including the inimitable, riveting founder Susana di Palma. Di Palma wields a castanet like a weapon, gliding across the stage with impossibly tiny yet sinuous movements that will delight any dance lover. Go see Carmen for the music, stay for the flamenco - it's such a treat, and I wish I had a chance to see it more often. 
3. Mill City Atmosphere. The urban Mississippi riverfront is finally getting some developmental love, and it's already a pleasure to walk around and just look at all the pretty buildings. But to have the chance to see a live opera in an open air venue as gorgeous as the Mill City Museum? That's icing on the cake. There's not a bad seat in the house - you'll be up close and personal with the performers and musicians, giving you an intensely personal view of opera that normally happens much farther away from your eyes. 
4. Once In A Lifetime Venue. Have you ever had a chance to attend a museum event after hours, dressed to the nines, and witness a masterful performance that will never be repeated again? Yes, this is a *very* bourgeois thing to say, but it's also true - listening to beautiful opera as the sun sets over the Mississippi river and the milky ruins bathe into a warm glow and the stars appear is a gorgeous experience that you owe it to yourself to have. #treatyoself and get a ticket to a full circle opera experience you'll never forget. 
5. Incredible Vocalists. From the taste we got last week I can assure you that this is a powerhouse cast, and they're only going to get better as they perform more. I found Audrey Babcock positively riveting as Carmen; she's got the voice you crave for the role, but she also acts through her teeth, dances with charm, and is all-around expressive AF. I loved watching her traipse through the cast, disarming them all with her stacked voice and saucy manners, and any Carmen fan is sure to be delighted with her performance. There are several other musical standouts too - I'll leave you to discover them when you go. 
6. These Performers Are All-In. Do you have any idea what it takes to stand unflinchingly in 85+ degree heat and 75% humidity for over three hours, singing your heart out, sweating through your costumes, hearing your instruments submit to the humidity - and doing it all over again multiple times a week? These performers are truly fearless and refuse to be intimidated by whatever conditions the weather (or climate change) throws at them. They didn't quit playing until there was a downpour of rain, and they stayed as long as possible so the show could go on to completion even though it was just a dress rehearsal. I promise you after witnessing a night in which just about every bad thing that could have, happened: Audiences will be treated to the absolute best level performance these artists can give, and you're sure to get every penny's worth of value that you spend on a ticket.
7. A Diverse Crew is Running The Show. Another example of the team dedication? When Don Juan was out sick, three different people stepped in to fill his role - the fight captain, Michael Jerome Johnson; the music leader, Fenlon Lamb; and the chorus master, Lara Bolton. While it was a shame that we didn't get to see the actual performer playing Don Jose, what this afforded was a chance to see people who are usually silently behind the scenes orchestrating everything actually jump into action on stage. It was so awesome to see this diverse group of rock stars leading their crew, and honestly provided a different feel to Carmen that got me thinking about how neat it would be to see this show with even more non-traditional casting. What if Don Jose was actually Don Josefina?  Or Carmen was Carlos? There is already a nice spread of racial diversity represented on stage - could there be more? How else could we play with the show to add new layers of meaning? Hats off to the amazing leaders who stepped in at a tough time and let us all see how the example they set leads to excellence throughout the whole production. 

Photo by Dan Norman

My impression overall? If you already love opera, you'll adore this production of Carmen. If you don't? There is no better gateway into understanding the world of opera than Georges Bizet's luxurious score, and the talented, dramatic acting of this cast will have you sucked in from the first few minutes. Carmen only runs through July 24, so make sure you get your tickets ASAP (they're selling out quickly!). Click here for more information or to nab your tickets.

Indecent Incites the Humanity in Us All

What is the responsibility of great art? 

Photo by Dan Norman

Is it to the artist? The audience? The culture it portrays? The abstract idea of art itself? 

This is an impossible question to answer; every person will approach it from a different lived perspective, and every person will find a new voice to add to this conversation. The place of art has been debated for centuries and will continue to be - and that's as it should be. A healthy process of self-evaluation is important to any society that deigns to present a semblance of growth or progress or democracy to its public, and introspection can uproot all sorts of deep feelings that point the way forward to a better tomorrow - if properly examined, of course. 

Photo by Dan Norman

It's interesting then to consider Indecent, which currently graces the Guthrie stage in its first off-Broadway production after quite the cultural uproar. You can read better pieces for context about the controversy by clicking here, here, and here, but suffice it to say - Indecent made waves upon appearing last year and hasn't shied away from stirring the cultural pot ever since. 

A play about a play, Indecent tells the story of the writing, production, and subsequent silencing of The God of Vengeance by Sholem Asch, a script that was undoubtedly and tragically ahead of its time. The God of Vengeance was an attempt to write a story about Jews (written and performed in Yiddish, no less) that told a true story about their lived experiences that was more honest than the biblical hero tropes that were pervasive at the time. What resulted was a sensational story that included a Jewish-owned brothel, a Torah purchased through the fruits of the prostitution there, and most importantly a poignant, honest love story between two women that shattered all of the patriarchal tropes and religious dictates surrounding their romance. 

Photo by Dan Norman

What resulted, as one might predict, was quite the uproar. The Jewish community was understandably concerned in publicizing a narrative that might provide pervasive Antisemitism with a virile foothold; society at large wasn't the most pleased with the idea of a sympathetic lesbian relationship; and America in particular was horrified at the idea of a play showing religion with capitalistic roots (oh, the irony). Indecent is about all of that, and then some. This includes the personal lives of those involved in creating the production, particularly the stage manager Lemml, whose undying passion for the haunted script leads him to flee America at exactly the wrong time, returning to his native Poland in the late 1930s just as the Jewish ghettos are formed by the Nazis. The show ends with a performance of The God of Vengeance within the ghetto itself, a horrifically eloquent commentary amidst the ultimate test of human resilience in the face of unimaginable evil. 

An undeniable fact is that this production is beautifully produced. A taught cast of six actors and three musicians play over 40 characters, a seamless feat that keeps this play moving quickly at a full pace of 1 hour and 45 minutes with no intermission. There are a number of great actors here, including the always delightful Sally Wingert with some much-needed comedic zingers, a fabulous Miriam Schwartz in the best performance I've ever seen her in, and the new-to-me Gisela Chípe with some thoroughly gorgeous acting. The clear standout, however, is Ben Cherry, who is absolutely magnificent as Lemml. Cherry joins the Minneapolis cast from the Broadway production and he is an absolute revelation; he was the grounding force in this show for me, and truly revealed the beating heart of what author Paula Vogel was trying to reveal. 

Photo by Dan Norman

I want to make a special shout-out to the three musicians onstage, who not only acted well but provided an unbelievably gorgeous soundtrack throughout the show and entirely from memory. Accordionist Spencer Chandler; violinist Lisa Gutkin; and especially the bravado clarinetist Pat O'Keefe: bravo for a spectacular musical performance that was the most important emotional element of this show. I was so impressed with your work and Indecent just wouldn't be what it is without it. Thank you for your efforts. 

The overall tightly-drawn production is due to the efforts of director Wendy Goldberg, who has infused every element of care possible into her tending of this story. The set, a stage within a stage designed by Arnulfo Maldonado, bears the dark foreboding of the script itself. The costumes by Anne Kennedy are period-perfect and lush despite their threadbare nature, and there are several moments (such as the solemn application of gold Jewish stars in the Polish ghetto) that need no further introduction thanks to her care. Josh Epstein provides several striking lighting moments and has synchronized with sound designer Kate Marvin to make this an encompassing experience. 

Photo by Dan Norman

I've struggled to define my feelings about this show for several reasons. One: I feel that it was not written for me; this is not a bad thing whatsoever, but I just think I missed some of the vital nuance contained here. I am not Jewish, and although I have studied much of this historical context at varying stages and think I know a lot, I don't feel equipped or expert enough in the details to provide a thorough historical understanding. The other is that I struggle with this question of the place of art. Indecent asks a host of unanswerable questions of its audience (and that's probably the point), but ultimately: what is the responsibility of great art? I normally would agree with Sholem Asch's original point presented via his character, that it is always vital and necessary to tell the most human stories we can so that we may all understand and respect one another better. But it is also true that the world seems to insist with great success that we un-engage ourselves from such critical thinking and instead seize upon damaging tropes as an excuse to destroy one another. The context Indecent is painted within is the starkest you can imagine for this question to play out, and the result of the plot is one that leaves me with an impossible choice. I emotionally feel Sholem Asch is wrong, but I most certainly cannot say this with any sort of factual basis or truth: the path he chose is not the one I prefer in my fiction, but it is understandable, and there are no easy answers to find in this complex drama. 

As I've sifted through my feelings, Viktor Frankl's magnificent Man's Search for Meaning continues to come to mind. Another great piece of art about the most reported-upon genocide in history, Man's Search for Meaning can shine a light and truth into any darkness, an act which I think Indecent was genuinely trying to embody. I am left only with Frankl's words, which say: 

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.”

Sholem Asch chose the attitude he needed to survive and in that moment turned his back on his art and his artistic family. Was he wrong? Do we still need The God of Vengeance? Do we need Indecent? I would say yes to all; but it's not my story to tell. For a challenging, beautifully produced, female-authored, female-directed, modern play, don't miss Indecent at the Guthrie, which plays through March 24. For more information and to buy tickets, click on this link. 

The Stunning Show Wedding Band Tells the Whole Truth About Interracial Relationships

"Ain't too many people in this world get to be loved - really loved."

Photo by Allen Weeks

These graceful words sum up the heartbreaking finale to Wedding Band, a powerful show now running at the Penumbra. I want to state up front that this show was very personal to me, and I can't possibly leave that out of my thoughts. I have included more of myself in this review than usual, and I hope that's okay. 

Photo by Allen Weeks

Wedding Band is, in an oversimplified summary, about the struggles of interracial lovers in North Carolina in 1918. Julie and Herman have been a couple for 10 years, and they are still very much in love - but boy if it isn't difficult. Interracial marriage is still illegal in the American South, and no one on either "side" of the racial divide is pleased about their relationship.

Photo by Allen Weeks

A more accurate description of this beautiful script from Alice Childress, but harder to pinpoint neatly, is that Wedding Band's real moral lies in how it so pointedly captures the nefarious, myriad ways that this country's horrific racial history works to poison interracial relationships at every step. Our protagonists Julie and Herman love each other, true: but love is not enough. Love is not enough to afford tickets to a place where Julia and Herman can legally marry and be together. Love is not enough to protect Julia from gossip in her community and physical threats from other white men who view her as an available dalliance. Love is not enough to make Julia into a member of Herman's family, who are totally unable to accept her despite their own outcast status as Germans during a World War. Love is not enough to allow Julia to call a doctor or care for Herman when he becomes ill, a sickness from which he later dies - because the scandal his sleeping in a black woman's bed might incur is more important to his family and community than saving his life.

Photo by Allen Weeks

This not-enough-ness is what is so hard about interracial relationships and so hard to explain to those outside of one, even today. I am blessed to be half of a beautiful, strong, intimate interracial relationship. It is the pride of my life that my partner and I have found each other. We are great communicators, and luckily we don't face many of the challenges Julia and Herman do in Wedding Band. Our partnership is challenging and bracing and inspiring and so very worthwhile. But moments of this play struck me deeply with their relevance, even though we exist 100 years after this play takes place. Anyone in a committed partnership knows how much work it takes to understand each other and maintain a healthy common ground; imagine fighting for your relationship in tandem with hundreds of years of racial oppression and baggage at the same time.

Photo by Allen Weeks

So much has changed for the better since the time in which Wedding Band is set; 50 years ago the Loving vs. Virginia case made it crystal clear that interracial marriage was legal nationwide; the Civil Rights movement passed the Voting Rights Act and many other important pieces of legislation; the South was theoretically desegregated. But changing laws is not the same thing as changing hearts and minds, and that is the tragedy that confronts interracial couples to this day. I am legally allowed to marry my partner - for which I am extremely grateful - but I have still walked down the street with him and faced threats, been spit on, and been angrily confronted - yes, even here in "liberal" Minneapolis. We still have to carefully code where we live to make sure neighbors will not view one of us a threat. We still have to consider whose name to put on joint accounts and purchases, knowing that if it is mine it will likely receive better fees and interest rates. We have to face the possibility that if we should one day have children, they will be thoroughly planted in two completely different worlds, and that their "otherness" could make them a target of harassment.

Photo by Allen Weeks

It's such a shame that any of those things need to be true here, but they are. And it won't get better until we look these problems straight in the face and say yes, I see you; yes, we will fix this; yes, we will all do better. The denouement of Wedding Band falls when Julia is ready to leave Herman after 10 years of dedication, because the rest of it, of life outside of their locked bedroom door, is just too much. She can't talk about lynchings with him; she can't talk about her loneliness. It is so difficult just to see each other that their time cannot be used for anything other than loving each other, and while that is beautiful, it can't make up for the rest of the horrors Julia ceaselessly confronts as a black woman living in the American South in 1918.

Photo by Allen Weeks

Julia and Herman discuss these problems frankly, and although extremely painful it's the most authentic delineation of an interracial relationship that I've ever seen on stage. These are harsh, vicious, honest words, but they are the only words that could get Julia and Herman through. We like to think today that as a society that we are in some sort of post-racial utopia, that the end of slavery or the end of Jim Crow was enough to make race an arbitrary thing. We like to think that people who bring up race are just making a mountain out of a molehill, but if Charlottesville has taught us anything it's that we are never "over" America's racial sins. Until those sins are cleaned, until we take full ownership and apology and repentance for them, the rest of us will continue to flounder in the mire left in its wake. Julia and Herman cannot be just man and wife; they have to be a white poor man and an orphaned black woman in the American South, and those identities can never leave them despite how many doors they try to shut to lock them out.

Photo by Allen Weeks

Dame-Jasmine Hughes stars as Julia, and she's a revelation. Hughes savors her lines like chocolate cake, slowly wending them out; it's a pleasure to see an actress who has such grace and poise, and she lends a Gabrielle Union quality to her role. Hughes has a cadre of equally delightful actresses to tell the story with her. Ivory Doublette is charming and heartwarming as Mattie, bringing a shining warmth to the stage in her Penumbra debut. Austene Van is sincere and welcoming as Lula, and it's a pleasure to watch her mentorship over these fine young actresses. George Keller is the woman you love to hate as Julia's landlord Fanny, and her vibrant acting plunges the audience into a complex, difficult, rich narrative of the legacy that racism left to many people of color in the form of rigged property ownership, colorism and prejudice. Laura Esping is absolutely chilling as Herman's mother, and spits her dialogue with unmatched venom. It's a hard part, especially if you don't identify with the material, and Esping really knows how to hone her lines. Peter Christian Hansen is appropriately loving as Herman. Darius Dotch crackles on stage as Lula's son Nelson, and delivers several powerful lines about the place of black men (and particularly black soldiers) in U.S. society. Bob Beverage is horrifyingly familiar as the abusive Bell Man, demonstrating an invasion of privacy that is as chilling as it is unfortunately commonplace.

Photo by Allen Weeks

The set, designed by Vicki Smith, is relatively low-key. One half details the inside of Julia's bedroom; the other, Lula's front porch. The economy is comforting, and you never feel displaced or confused as to the place in the action. Every prop, considerately selected by Amy Reddy, feels well worn and well used, and it's clear that the cast is at home in their surroundings. The costumes are deceptively simple as designed by Mathew LeFebvre, and I really enjoyed the thoughtful details he placed on each. They're beautifully evocative of the early 1900s and well-suited to the character's various professions. Mike Wangen's lighting gently takes us through the time cycles of each day, and Lou Bellamy's masterful overall direction infuses this tautly drawn drama with dynamic gravitas.

Photo by Allen Weeks

Wedding Band is a raw, gorgeously told story that is vital to understanding interracial relationships and the devastating heritage of America's racial sins. If you want to understand how we got here (and how we can fix it); if you need a look in the mirror to see your own flaws and tribulations; if you simply want to see a show with powerful, nuanced performances and gripping dialogue; then you must attend Wedding Band. It runs at the Penumbra through November 12; I highly recommend it for any audience. You may not want to see it, but you should see it, and that alone makes it worth the trip. For more information or to buy tickets, click on this link.

A Modern, Tenacious Take on Hamlet

Shakespeare is getting all kinds of fresh beginnings these days. 

Photo by Amy Anderson

And what a joyful trend it is! First we had the stunningly modern take on Romeo and Juliet at the Guthrie (read my review here - one of my faves I've written lately); now we have a strikingly fresh rendition of Hamlet at Park Square Theater.

Photo by Amy Anderson

Hamlet has proven to be one of theater's most enduring scripts. Why? Something about this backstabbing family speaks to the human condition. As an extremely quick overview: Hamlet is the son of the freshly buried King of Denmark. His uncle has married his mother in an incestuous plot to become king, and Hamlet is having none of it. Things should have ended at Hamlet simply living his life with a surly attitude - but instead, he discovers that his father's ghost is roaming the castle. The ghost tells Hamlet that his father was murdered by his uncle; upon receiving that knowledge, Hamlet wholeheartedly dedicates himself to revenge. Like all Shakespearean tragedies, the plot only gets worse from there for our poor hero; much suffering and death faces the players until finally their lives are all spent and our emotions rung clear through.

Photo by Amy Anderson

This production has an exceptionally young cast. This has the effect of not only making the tightly edited action (the original play is near to five hours or so long, but this production clocks in at around 2 1/2 hours) pop, but really enlivens the material. At the center is Kory LaQuess Pullam as Hamlet. Long a rising star in the Twin Cities theater scene (check out this wonderful recent feature at the Strib), this production seals Pullam's place in Minnesota's thespian zeitgeist; stay tuned for much more from him. Pullam captures Hamlet's heated angst and lends a surprisingly funny gallows humor to the part. His style, mirrored in the rest of the cast, is almost conversational, and his intimate delivery really helps the material feel modern.

Photo by Amy Anderson

Surrounding Pullam is a tight, smart team of fellow young actors. Maeve Coleen Moynihan was my absolute favorite as a shiver-inducingly good Ophelia. Moynihan's delivery is truly haunting and horrifying, and you won't easily forget the finale of her powerful performance. Wesley Mouri is swift and brave as Ophelia's brother Laertes. Mouri shares all of the swashbuckling appeal of a Disney prince, and he charms here in this part. Kathryn Fumie is steadfast as Horatio, and brings a warmth and love to her role that helps enliven Pullam's Hamlet. Charles Hubbel and Sandra Struthers are expertly poised as King Claudius and Queen Gertrude, respectively. Their years of acting experience really shows, and Struthers' understated performance in particular sparkles amidst the more dynamic action on stage. My only unfulfilled request? I wish we could have seen Theo Langason in person as the king's ghost - his vocals are great but the physical representation of the ghost, with his face swathed in black fabric (??) is quite awkward and anathema to the straightforward modernity of the rest of the cast.

Photo by Amy Anderson

The set and staging of this production was truly unique, an it hit a lot of references home for me throughout the performance. The entire set is an enormous off-kilter cube, framed with beaming lights and paved with rough stones, in the middle of the stage. The back-center of this cube is a constant change of projections to move the scenes and intermittently used for closeup videos of the actors, almost as a giant TV set. It's really reminiscent of a mashup of the Ethan Hawke 2000-era film version of Hamlet and basically anything Baz Luhrmann made in the millennial era. It's eerie but effective, and the clean, harsh presentation yanks the audience straight out of fusty traditional territory. Costumes are very Matrix-level, with pleather coats, combat boots and dark sweatsuits attiring the heated actors.

Photo by Amy Anderson

Overall, I enjoyed this production. The first act drags a little despite Director Joel Sass's aggressive cutting; I'm not sure why. They make up for this in the second act, which races into a tempestuous fight scene that ends the show with breathless tension. I really appreciated the fresh take on long-hallowed lines (yes, despite the heavy cutting you will hear your To Be Or Not To Bes and Good Night Sweet Princes) that removed their precious reputations and imbued them with a deeper feeling. It was awesome to see more non-traditional casting and an intentional - and mostly successful - attempt to imbue this very dark plot with a healthy dose of humor. I'm excited to see where this dynamic, fresh acting crew heads after this production. They are the future of our local theater scene, and what a promising prospect we have to look forward to. Hamlet runs at Park Square Theater through November 11. For more information or to buy tickets, click on this link.