Something Wicked Comes to Vagrancy’s “Macbeth”

A well-known story challenges the tellers to show what they can imagine, where they can take us. So it is with Macbeth, the familiar tale of a king-killer driven mad by guilt. You don’t go to learn the story, but to see how it’s told.

At the LA Shakespeare Center, the folks of The Vagrancy are giving the Scottish play a wicked new spin.

It’s not the story they tweak so much as the world around it. Tristan Jeffers’ set brings us into a murky post-apocalypse of rusted steel and crooked, barren trees. Twisting witches glide silently through the fog and filthy air, moving as if their genes — like those of the trees — have been altered in the struggle to survive. Matt Richter’s softly leaking soundtrack erupts in sudden drums, and we’ve begun.

(photo: Wes Marsala)

(photo: Wes Marsala)

This isn’t medieval Scotland. The characters do keep their names and speeches, but who they speak to may surprise. Most importantly, it’s Queen Duncan everyone bows to, which subtly establishes that this world is rooted in the feminine — it’s not a patriarchy. Donalbain is Malcolm’s valiant sister, not his brother. And when Macduff confides his plans to his wife (instead of a male bystander), she becomes a far more sympathetic figure, her murder far more heinous.

The performers work with energy and intelligent invention.  Ann Colby Stocking’s Duncan dominates scenes as a royal leader must, but with gentle generosity and personal courage. Alana Dietze takes Lady Macbeth from whip to willow and back, and lets us watch her being led step by step out of her comfort zone (instead of just showing up crazy at the end). As Macbeth, Daniel Kaemon makes every line and moment clear, especially those in which he’s torn against himself; we feel with him the horror of necessity, in his ever-narrowing choices and in their ever-widening consequences.

The secondary characters are similarly well embodied, from Elitia Daniels’ brave Lady Macduff to Austin Iredale’s methodical (and creepily enthusiastic) murderer. Of special note are two child actors — Mia Moore as Macduff’s child, and Andrew Grigorian as Fleance — who exhibit comfort on the stage and hold character admirably. Then, of course, there are the witches. Marissa Dorrego Brennan, Kelly Perez and Carolyn Deskin capture our attention from the moment we enter, and rivet it every time they appear.

Interestingly, the witches — who have most of the play’s famous poetic lines — utter almost none of them. They dance their scenes, and in so doing create an intensely physical atmosphere. In fact, this play is as much embodied as spoken, from the gentle affections of the families (Duncan’s, Banquo’s, Macduff’s) to the Macbeths’ grasping sexuality to the many gruesome murders.

This brings us to the hidden genius of the piece: Caitlin Hart, founding artistic director of The Vagrancy. Long known for tight direction and a penchant for exploration, Hart must count this Macbeth among her masterworks.

Her vision is truly wicked, rooted in natural wisdom and intuition, where things grow (and die) according to their inmost laws, however crooked they may appear. It’s wicked to set the witches writhe-dancing through scene after scene, ominously quiet; wicked to have them re-animate Banquo’s corpse; wicked to send young Fleance, a future king, across the stage at the end.

Hart’s wicked vision is omnipresent, challenging, and always rich with meaning. And her ability to develop the vision with every member of the company is impressive.

Shakespeare’s Macbeth is a timeless tragedy, as ambition wreaks havoc upon individual lives and the world’s order. Hart and The Vagrancy make it a tragedy for our time, as a ravaged world seeking to regain its balance is torn off center by those who would kill for power. This is a bold, unsettling re-telling of a story we will always need.
Macbeth, by William Shakespeare, directed by Caitlin Hart.
Presented by The Vagrancy, at the Shakespeare Center of Los Angeles, 1238 W. 1st St., LA 90026.

Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00,
Sundays at 7:00,
through Nov. 20th.

Tickets: <>

Art and Love Collide — “Mariela” at Casa 0101

Art doesn’t happen on demand. (Ask anyone staring a a blank page or canvas, or at a blank wall.)

As John the Evangelist said of the wind:  “It blows where it chooses, and you can hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it goes.” In Mariela in the Desert, the wind often blows so suddenly and loudly it interrupts conversations.

That’s a graceful clue to the heart of the play.  Mariela, now playing at Casa 0101 in Boyle Heights, depicts the family of a Mexican painter self-exiled to the northern desert at the height of that nation’s great artistic outburst, the mid-20th century Expressionist Movement.

Rachel Gonzalez (photo: Ed Krieger)

Rachel Gonzalez (photo: Ed Krieger)

Jose Salvatierra — a friend of Rivera, Kahlo, Siqueiros and Tamayo —  dreams of an artists’ colony in the desert. He and  his wife Mariela, also a painter, leave Mexico City; but no one follows. Mariela stops painting to raise their children. After a long dry spell, Jose wins a national prize; but he unaccountably brings the painting home, then falls into a long, terminal battle with diabetes.

This is where we enter the story. By the time  we leave, much has been revealed — about the family’s history, about the fickleness of talent and inspiration, and about the painful complexities of love.

Mariela is an early play by Karen Zacarías, one of America’s most-produced playwrights. It has a rough edge or two (e.g., monologs that tell us nothing the characters don’t show us), but it has considerable strength — in its characters, in the courage with which they confront their lives, and in its fearless portrayal of  what art can do to the lives it moves through.

Casa 0101 and the Angel City Theater Ensemble stage this work  with intelligence and energy. Marco DeLeon’s set places us in a familiar environment, yet keeps us from feeling at home (so do the fluctuating scrim projections). Props (by Alexander Cooper) and costumes (by Abel Alvarado) fill out the world and the characters, and even help to tell the story — as when objects shatter, or when the young professor squirms in a suit he can’t quite fit.

Robert Beltran’s direction is crisp-paced and clear, easily finessing many changes of scene and time. And the actors’ performances are shaped by strong choices. Denise Blasor makes spinster aunt Oliva real, with an unpredictable range of mental and emotional moments; Kenneth Lopez suggests young Carlos’ disabilities, while focusing on his feelings; and Randy Vasquez’s professor flows nicely from ill-at-ease visitor to almost family.

Vannessa Vasquez, as the daughter who inherits the artistic gift (or curse), carves a believable path from anxious homecoming to new wisdom; she also shifts easily from adult to child in flashbacks. Vance Valencia, as her father, gives us a man with talent and an ability to love who’s almost blinded by ambition; he, too, moves deftly between ages, from Jose’s bullish youth to his querulous decline. And Rachel Gonzalez, in an impressively contained performance, always lets us sense the immense forces at play beneath Mariela’s firmly managed persona.

Mariela in the Desert is a valuable play: it corrects some of the blindness of our era. It focuses on Mexico (not the US), on women (not men), and on the human costs of art (not its glories). Casa 0101 and the Angel City Theater Ensemble give us  an engrossing, important story told with the skill and sensitivity it deserves.
Mariela in the Desert, by Karen Zacarías, directed by Robert Beltran.
Presented by Casa 0101 and Angel City Theater Ensemble, at the Casa 0101 Theater, 2102 E. 1st St., LA 90033.

Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00,
Sundays at 5:00,
through December 11.

Tickets:  <>  or  (323) 263-7684.

Mitu’s “Juarez”: A City Between Hell and Home

If you don’t know Theater Mitu, you should. They’re a New York company that works the space between — between cultures, between ancient and modern, between heaven and earth.

In Juárez: A Documentary Mythology, now at L.A. Theatre Center, they take us between hell and home — to a city caught between Mexico and the US, between local farming and global industrialization, between battling drug cartels and folks who just want to live.

And Mitu’s method of telling this story lives in a middle ground — somewhere between live theatre and electronic journalism. There’s no set, few costumes; instead, the stage is filled with screens, mic stands, speakers, wires. Half of the text is drawn from the troupe’s research (the Documentary of the title); the rest is woven from their interviews with the people of Juárez (the Mythology). Instead of enacting events and characters, the actors  take turns reading out facts, and transmitting the citizens’ words.

(photo: Kayla Asbell)

(photo: Kayla Asbell)

Still, the result is undeniably theatrical. We don’t learn anyone’s name (“Teacher, 43,” “Grandmother, 80”), but their words — and home movies of director Rubén Polendo’s family — take us into their city and its life. We feel nostalgia for quinceañeras and cotton fields, sudden confusion as maquila factories outsourced by US firms explode the small city into miles of stranger-filled shantytowns, and terror as angry youths randomly murder young girls and heavily armed drug gangs slaughter one another in the streets.

Juárez takes us to a place of terrible despair. We learn what it is to be trapped in hell, and powerless. Juárez’s last few years offer a slender hope; things seem to be improving, though no one knows why. It’s a tendril of green pushing up through concrete, but we cling to it.

Because this has become our city. Of course, safe in our seats, we know we’ve only learned of the tribulations of Juárez — we haven’t lived them. But we know we will. We, too, will face disruption and chaos, as late-stage capitalism keeps spreading around the globe and our damaged ecosystems struggle to re-balance themselves.

Juárez: A Documentary Mythology never voices these warnings. It doesn’t have to. Unusual as it is, Theater Mitu’s vivid story-telling engrosses us in the experience of other human beings, and lets us take from it whatever we can.

In an ensemble effort so seamless that no one can be singled out, the Mitu troupe creates a rare and powerful experience. Their Juarez proves that even without sets, costumes or characters, theatre can move us and challenge us deeply.
Juárez: A Documentary Mythology, a Theater Mitu collaboration, conceived and directed by Rubén Polendo.
Presented by the Latino Theater Company, at LA Theatre Centre, 514 S. Spring St., LA 90013.

Thursdays through Saturdays at 8:00,
Sundays at 3:00,
through November 13.

Tickets: <> or (213) 489-0994.

“Cabaret le Fey” Takes Burlesque to a New Level

Burlesque, an ancient and honorable part of theatre, has always appeared in various forms.

It emerged in the mid-19th century as an exaggerated and often risqué comic form in theatre and music-hall “revues,” tweaking the “serious” art and politics of the day.  At the same time, in night clubs, it appeared as a “girly show” (with or without the satire) where women stripped to tease the patrons.

But by the mid-20th century, burlesque had all but died, thanks to puritanic morality crusades.  It fell to a few superstar performers –such as Lilli St. Cyr, Sally Rand, Gypsy Rose Lee, and Tempest Storm — to keep the art of “exotic dancing” alive.

Cheryl Dole (photo: Adam Neubauer)

Cheryl Dole (photo: Adam Neubauer)

The 21st century is a different world. With sexual positivity and gender fluidity fast becoming cultural norms, burlesque has been reborn. And this time, it’s not about an idealized woman arousing a roomful of anonymous men; it’s about women of every shape and size celebrating their bodies, and everyone enjoying the shared mystery of sexuality. (The satire has morphed into  character dances, half cosplay tribute and half gentle parody.)

The rebirth has come swiftly.  A decade ago, groundbreaking LA impresaria Amanda Marquardt was staging 20- to 50-seat shows anywhere she could find space. Today, several companies regularly fill such large venues as Fais Do Do with hundreds of chanting fans.

At the same time, one of the sweetest parts of burlesque tradition has been been brought back to glowing life at the Vampire Lounge in Beverly Hills.

Cheryl Doyle, Deneen Melody, Vanessa Cate, Natalie Hyde (photo: Adam Neubauer)

Cheryl Doyle, Deneen Melody, Vanessa Cate, Natalie Hyde (photo: Adam Neubauer)

Every other Thursday night, a group called Cabaret le Fey presents about 90 minutes of new, original numbers; many of the shows have dark themes befitting the venue. There’s usually a trio of dancers — and the tiny wine bar holds only two to three times that many patrons.

The result is an intimacy even greater than in the cabarets of Paris (which Toulouse-Lautrec painted) or Berlin (immortalized in the films Blue Angel and Cabaret). There is no stage, no proscenium. Each dancer performs within a few inches of every audience member.

The boundaries begin to blur. You feel the tension and release in each movement, the electricity of each emotion passes through your body … you’re being performed with, not just performed for.
The dancer is not a sexual object, nor only the subject of her own sexuality; instead, you sense her moving both your bodies at once — a communion more subtle and more thrilling than any strip tease.

Cabaret le Fey is  an offshoot of True Focus Theater, an adventurous woman-centered troupe that has created memorable multimedia theatre in its few years (Cat Fight; Love Sucks; and Hex, currently running at Zombie Joe’s Underground Theater in NoHo).  Artistic director Vanessa Cate performs regularly at the Vampire, along with Deneen Melody and Cheryl Doyle (both choreographers), though other True Focus artists often step in.

The Cabaret le Fey team has been sharing their quietly intimate form of burlesque for several months now, with individual shows planned up to Thanksgiving week.  To enjoy an experience that could not exist until this time, in this place, arrive early and join the lucky few.
Cabaret le Fey, at the Vampire Lounge, 9865 Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills 90210.

Alternate Thursdays at 9:00.

No reservations, no cover charge; 1-drink minimum.
Check for performances at <> or (310) 826-7473.


3 New Trick-or Treats: “Nevermore,” “Fallen Saints” and “Dracula”

In less time than it takes a millennial to finish high school, Halloween has grown into the City of Angels’ second-largest theatre season (after the summer Hollywood Fringe Festival).

But it’s not about angels. Fall’s luxuriant growth is full of haunts, escape rooms and mystery tales, all done with black ink, charcoal, and the bright burst of fresh blood.

Here are just three of this year’s new offerings for fright fans:

“NEVERMORE” — A Playful, Twisty Poe Mystery

Elise Golgowski, Michael Lutheran

Elise Golgowski, Michael Lutheran

Theatre Unleashed in NoHo brings another full-length new work out of its deep wine cellar,  uncorking Matt Ritchey’s witty pastiche, Nevermore. Ritchey, director Sean Fitzgerald and the troupe play freely with Edgar Allan Poe’s poems, his stories, and his life.

The result is a tasty dark pastry laced with humor, happily free from dull historical accuracy. It is, however, very accurate to the early 19th-century America Poe inhabited. It’s also studded with Easter eggs for those who know the horror master’s tortuous bio and full bookshelf.

Michael Lutheran (Edgar) and David Foy (his old friend Montresor) shape the mystery’s twisted spine, while David Caprita (a menacing majordomo) and Elise Golgowski  (Lenore) flesh out the terror.  Poe famously said  the most poetic topic is the death of a beautiful woman; Golgowski’s enigmatic Lenore makes us believers.

Oh, and there’s a hidden egg for actors, as the redoubtable Courtney Sara Bell turns a simple “exposition character” into a brilliantly nuanced driver of the tale’s tension.

Thursdays thru Saturdays at 8:00 til Nov. 5,  at The Belfry, 11031 Camarillo St.  <> or (818)849-4039. 

“FALLEN SAINTS” — Meeting with a Victorian Medium

An audience member meets a revenant (photo: Adam Neubauer)

An audience member meets a revenant (photo: Adam Neubauer)

The new Force of Nature Company invites us into a 19th-century funeral home at a tiny NoHo storefront.  Gradually, we realize we’re walking toward a seance, and (if we know our Victorian villains) we may suspect whose turf we’re invading.

A grimly cheerful undertaker (Wyn Harris) welcomes us to the compact tour, where a blinded musician (Anatol Felsen) screeches a coffinside serenade and an unhinged scientist (Gloria Galvan) shows off her grisly gathered gifts.  Hectored along by a biblical prophet, we enter the presence of an elegant spiritualist (Michelle Danyn); she’s inhabited by a succession of wraiths from beyond, who all point to a mystery.  Then — suddenly– it is resolved.

This is not a leap-out-at-you chamber of horrors, but a more low-keyed exploration that pleases your fancy and teases your mind, even if you’re not a period geek.  Performances are focused and strong (especially the mercurial Galvan and the commanding yet vulnerable Danyn); the tour is a bit brief, and its tension could be heightened.  But Fallen Saints promises to become a worthy addition to the city’s fall fear fest, and a gentle introduction for newbies.

Fridays and Saturday (5 shows between 7:00 and 10:00) thru Oct. 29, at The Actors Group, 2813 W. Magnolia Blvd. <> .

“DRACULA” — Fresh Telling of a Familiar Tale

April Morrow, Paul Romero (photo: Shane Tometich)

April Morrow, Paul Romero (photo: Shane Tometich)

The Count arose to life 120 years ago in Bram Stoker’s novel,
and the classic film (with Bela Lugosi)  is 85 years old. But the Loft Ensemble’s new,  streamlined version is well worth seeing.

In adapting  Dracula: Blood Before Dawn, Raymond Donahey has compressed Stoker’s sprawling classic into a swift tale of love, lust and conflict. The loves are a lesbian romance — Mina (Ainsley Peace) and the ill-fated Lucy (Lauren Sperling) — and an intense Platonic bond that grows between Mina and Dr. Seward (Paul Romero). The lusts are what drive the two antagonists  — Van Helsing (Marz Richards), who’s passionate for life, and Dracula (Matt Gorkis), who’s addicted to power and death.

Though Donahey preserves the chase drama at the story’s core, it is not Van Helsing but Mina who confronts Dracula at the climax.  She’ll let him take her into eternal half-death if they will use their immortal powers for enhancing life; he, seeing no value in life, insists she help him spread suffering and death. She loses this existential duel, but Van Helsing — affirming both life and death — overpowers the vampire and destroys him.

Dracula: Blood Before Dawn deals more openly with sexual and gender issues than the Victorian original; its characters’ lively interest in Darwin, Freud and Neitzsche also make it more intellectually satisfying.  The set design, by Mitch Rosander and Bree Pavey, is broodingly atmospheric (yet marvelously clever). The performances range from adequate to excellent, with Gorkis’ open, quiet elegance and hidden despair; Richards’ self-irony and rousing arias; and April Morrow’s perfectly embodied Mary (Donahey’s version of the insane acolyte Renfield) taking the palms.

The Loft Ensemble has created a work that deserves a permanent place in the lore of the Transylvanian count; it should resonate fully and long with 21-century audiences.  This debut production is strong, and — with directorial attention to a few performance details (some of which may smooth out now that opening night is past) — on the way to being uniformly excellent.

Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00, Sundays at 7:00, thru Nov. 13, at 13442 Ventura Blvd.,Sherman Oaks.  <> .




“Hex” Puts the Focus on Women’s Mystery, Power

What is it to be a woman?

This has been one of the animating concerns of True Focus, an inventive woman-centered troupe with a strong aesthetic sense led by founding director Vanessa Cate, in its three years onstage.

For this year’s Halloween season, the company zeroes in tight on the question — and rather than finding an answer, they celebrate a labyrinth of mysteries.

(top) Alariza Nevarez, Cheryl Doyle, Sasha Snow; (middle) Marietta Melrose, Vanessa Cate, Ashley J. Woods; (bottom) Caitlin Fowler, Deneen Melody.

(top) Alariza Nevarez, Cheryl Doyle, Sasha Snow; (middle) Marietta Melrose, Vanessa Cate, Ashley J. Woods; (bottom) Caitlin Fowler, Deneen Melody.

In an hourlong series of  short pieces, most of them using dance storytelling, we are moved rapidly from tragedy to comedy and back, and we’re always fascinated.  There’s a light bit about an invisible man, another about three witches (hello, Macbeth) seeking a virgin sacrifice … but the dominant tone is dark.

At the heart of the show, Cate and Emma Pauly together chant Poe’s The Raven, summoning an austerely erotic Caitlin Fowler.  This morphs into Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus, with Pauly summoning the devil (Cate) — which then transforms into a dance-tale of the devil seducing a woman (Deneen Melody),  who is then burned as a witch.

There are she-wolves (in a delightfully re-imagined Little Red Riding Hood, led by Sasha Snow), wives lamenting absent sailors (or are they sirens recalling their prey?), vampires and more.

Hex can be enjoyed as a seasonal pleasure, ringing the changes of our culture’s lore with lots of beautiful women dancing.  But it offers far more: a non-polemic exploration of what it has meant to be a woman in Western societies, and a powerful evocation of the innate gifts — and insoluble mysteries — of the human female.
Hex, by various authors and the company, directed by Vanessa Cate.
Presented by True Focus Theater & Cabaret le Fey, at Zombie Joe’s Underground Theatre, 4850 N. Lankershim Blvd., LA 91601.

Tuesdays at 10:00,
through October 25th.

Tickets:  <>

Warm, Gentle “Ceremony” Closes After 3 Years

Ceremony is about a life-changing experience.

It can also be one, and it has for many who’ve watched Michael Kass
recount his ayahuasca journey at venues around the country over the last three-plus years.

For those who don’t find it life-changing, Kass’ one-man show does prove warm, entertaining, and deeply life-afffirming.


(photo: Aysia Michelle @isaonair)

Like most theatrical soloists, Kass performs an autobiographic tale.
He keeps it simple: plastic buckets for set and props, no costumes, and voice shifts to evoke the half-dozen other characters who briefly appear.

(To be fair, there are over 100 sound and light cues, deftly provided by Alysia Michelle on closing night.)

Kass is equally sparing about information.  One word, one gesture gives us all we need to know about his parents; the love of his life speaks a single sentence.  Yet we understand intimately how he comes to inhabit the Slough of Despond (as John Bunyan, another gifted spiritual monologist,  called it 340 years ago).

A quickly told string of brief encounters — and impulsive decisions — leads him to a retreat high in the Andes, to meet the potent drug known as “Mother Ayahuasca.”  Here, in richer detail, Kass shares the moments, both harrowing and humorous, that changed his life.

Kass (unlike Bunyan) does not proselytize, nor even describe  his altered life.  It’s up to us to conclude that the fruit of his fearful pilgrimage is this man we’ve just spent the hour with — humble, self-deprecating, funny, and readily open.

Saturday’s staging — at director/producer Diana Wyenn’s home — was the last of Ceremony‘s numerous pop-up performances (which have won awards in LA, San Francisco and San Diego).  Kass and Wyenn deserve our sincere thanks for providing an experience that’s riveting,  lively, often hilarious, and offers us an unspoken invitation to reflect on our own spiritual quests.
Ceremony: A True Tale of Love, Fear and Ayahuasca, by Michael Kass, directed by Diana Wyenn.
Presented at various locations throughout the United States.


“Blueberry Toast” Slices Deep into our Fantasies

Edward Albee isn’t dead.  And Antonin Artaud is laughing in his grave.

Because Mary Laws is alive and well and writing plays, and the Echo Theater Company is producing them.

In Blueberry Toast, world-premiering at the Atwater VillageTheatre, Laws answers the Frenchman’s  call for a “theatre of cruelty” like Joan of Arc taking up arms for the archangel Michael.  And she presses the American master’s lacerating satire to places even he didn’t go.

It starts simply enough.  A bright, cute kitchen (scene design: Amanda Knehans) and perky music (sound design: Jeff Gardner) gently mock the suburban dream, suggesting where we’re going.  Enter Walt and Barb.  He’s floating in satisfaction, she’s smiling and attentive.

Soon, though, he casts yearning glances outside their cozy domicile,  and she looks at unguarded moments as if she’s swallowed the Franco-Prussian War and been unable to digest it.  She cajoles him into having breakfast; he asks for blueberry pancakes; she serves him blueberry compote on toast.  The glove has been thrown down.

As their marital tete-a-tete escalates to mano-a-mano and beyond, their two children, Jill and Jack, rush in and out.  They’re excited to show off a play they’re creating, one act at a time, and — except for a hilarious TMI moment  when they interrupt violent sex — fail to grasp what’s happening.

Through all three acts of the children’s play, and the brutal crescendo of their parents’ warfare, the audience is laughing helplessly, loud and long — even at the end, when Jill mourns like Electra and Jack sits stunned, an infant Orpheus descending into madness.

In Laws’ hands, the layers of wishing and pretending peel off of the suburban fantasy at breakneck speed, leaving only the dark matter of blood.  What’s remarkable is that on this ride from Disneyland into hell, she has us laughing all the way.

Laws has a precise eye and ear, and a wonderful sense of rhythm and structure.  She lets every syllable mean.  Her writing gifts are amplified by Dustin Wills’ deft, relentless direction, and by the unstinting work of the actors.

Alexandra Freeman’s Jill bounces effervescently, and Michael Sturgis as Jack follows diffidently in her wake.  Neither role could be played by a child,  and these two subtly remind us of how we infantilize our offspring, teaching them not to trust what they see or know.

As Walt, Albert Dayan is delightfully self-centered, remaining blithely clueless about anyone else’s feelings to the bitter end.  His monolog about himself (a  gentle parody of his namesake Whitman?) skewers men everywhere, and his self-righteous woundedness is a joy to behold, even as we wince with recognition.  Masterfully underplayed.

Of course, the demon in this lovely machine, the unfailing source of its energy, is Barb.  And Jacqueline Wright is a virtuoso, taking us through fifty shades of crazy without missing a nuance.   As Barb allows herself to feel  indignity after indignity, then unleashes anger after anger, we howl with laughter — in anticipation of her next act, and in her execution of it.  We know her pain too well, and feel ourselves released when she lets fly.  Barb is a brilliant but terrifyingly difficult role, and Wright gives it one of this year’s great comic performances.

Artaud wanted theatre to shock audiences out of their complacency; Albee wanted it to show us the truth beneath the stories we tell  ourselves.  Mary Laws wants to be “a badassmotherfuckingwriter.”  Echo Theater Company’s production of Blueberry Toast grants all their wishes, and presents American theater with a dark jewel.
Blueberry Toast, by Mary Laws, directed by Dustin Wills.
Presented by the Echo Theater Company, at Atwater Village Theatre,  3269 Casitas Ave., LA 90039.

Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00,
Sundays at 4:00,
through October 24th.
Mondays (September 19th and 26th, and  October 24th only) at 8:00.

Tickets:   <>  or  (310) 307-3753.



“Mexican Trilogy” Artfully Tells Vital American Story

Three full-length plays in one evening?  That’s ambitious.

A century in a family’s life, spanning four generations and two cultures?  Ambitious again.

The Latino Theater Company pulls it off with panache in its newest  creation, A Mexican Trilogy: An American Story. The three plays — Faith, Hope and Charity — are onstage at downtown’s LA Theatre Center.  Using a bold scenic design (by Francois-Pierre Couture) that stacks a half-dozen playing areas in an upstage box wall; powerfully dramatic projections (by Yee Eun Nam); and a daring sound design (by John Zalewski), the LTC troupe unfolds its panoramic tale with wit and warmth, punctuating the story with adroitly chosen popular songs.

Evelina Fernandez, Olivia Cristina Delgado; (rear) Sal Lopez, Sam Golzari, Esperanza America (photo: Grettel Cortes)

Evelina Fernandez, Olivia Cristina Delgado; (rear) Sal Lopez, Sam Golzari, Esperanza America (photo: Grettel Cortes)

The cycle begins in a Mexico swept by revolution, moves to an Arizona mining town and then to Phoenix, and ends in the Los Angeles of 2005.  We follow la familia as it evolves, with the twelve actors shifting characters along the way.   Yet as family members grow and change and die, we also see how some things endure, like traditions, or keep showing up, like genes or habits.

One danger in such an ambitious undertaking is overwhelm — will we lose track of the many-stranded story, or lose interest over the six hours of its telling?  We don’t.  Every element of the production is handled so skilfully that we stay effortlessly engaged, even over the break for dinner (or as we did, from one evening to the next).

Another danger is stereotyping — moving through an entire century and 30 characters in six hours, can each person appear individual and real?  Will historic events be merely quick cartoons? Again, no problem.  As swiftly as the story moves, the playwright gives each character time to reveal inner layers, and the actors make it happen.  And the projections and sound design make each crucial moment echo long after it has passed, as such moments do in memory.

In an ensemble production of such uniformly high quality, it’s nearly impossible to single out artists. Whether handling one role (as Lucy Rodriguez does throughout, and Robert Beltran does in Charity) or several (as everyone else does), the actors demonstrate  impressive  range and versatility.  Even the playwright, Fernández, steps into four roles across the three plays.

Nothing about A Mexican Trilogy leads us to expect a musical.  So we are surprised early on when the sisters Faith, Hope and Elena manage a credible imitation of the Andrews Sisters; then they get even better; and then later, we are stunned by the solos of Ella Saldaña North and Esperanza America.  Sal Lopez — who handles a handful of roles, from young priest to aged paterfamilias to a burned-out veteran — also croons romanticos; and Julio Macias and Kenneth Miles Ellington step into power rock classics with ease.

Now three decades old, the Latino Theater Company under founder José Luis Valenzuela has matured into a troupe that can take on any challenge, as their masterful handling of this epic demonstrates.  A Mexican Trilogy: An American Story is not only a dynamic theatrical  experience, it’s a vital cultural record.  It deserves to be seen all over  this country — and perhaps Mexico as well. The only question is how many companies can match LTC’s bold artistry, or will dare to try.
A Mexican Trilogy: An American Story, by Evelina Fernández, directed by José Luis Valenzuela.
Presented by the Latino Theater Company, at the LA Theatre Center, 514 S. Spring St., Los Angeles 90013.

Thursdays (Part A) and Fridays (Part B) at 8:00,
Saturdays at 5:00 (Part A) and 8:30 (Part B),
Sundays at 3:00 (Part A) and 6:30 (Part B),through October 9th.

Tickets: <> or (866) 811-4111.




“Anais”: New Wine Bursts the Old Goatskins

When Anaïs Nin began writing, almost 100 years ago, the literary world had no way to deal with her.

To be sure, there were liberated women in Paris after World War I — performers, writers, sexual adventurers who littered the Left Bank cafés and shone at Gertrude Stein’s salons.  But none wrote as frankly and freely about the sensual life as Nin, who claimed the same liberty — in her personal life as well as her writing– that Henry Miller was carving out for men.

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Nin had to write anonymous dollar-a-page porn to support herself.  Later, as her own works were published, readers who avidly followed her tempestuous sexual odyssey denounced her in public, punishing her with puritan prudery for daring to live an unplanned, embodied life.

Not until the “sexual revolution” of the 1960s did Nin receive more than grudging respect as an artist — and still, thirty years later, she was savaged by her first biographer.  Only now are her stormy life and work appearing onstage.

To capture this whirlwind, librettist/composer Cindy Shapiro and director/choreographer Janet Roston devised a new theatrical form — a dance opera.   “Eternal Anaïs,” a narrator  garbed like the Interlocutor of a burlesque show, weaves together 17 scenes, with a song for each; meanwhile “Anaïs,” a dancer, enacts each episode.  They’re supported by a versatile five-member troupe who dance, sing and act as needed, and by the constant flow of images and words — which were Nin’s lifeblood — on the upstage screen.

Shapiro’s music is unconventional and daring, and creates a world that flows steadily through the scenes; Roston’s energetic and often lyrical choreography similarly sustains the tone throughout. And the projections, by Joe LaRue and James Levy, are a marvel — yet they always serve the story.

Still, it’s up to two bravura performers to carry the show.  Marisa Matthews (“Eternal Anaïs”) almost never leaves the stage, singing her way — often at full belt — through a solid hour and a half.  Her focus and clarity, her ability to charm the audience, and her ease at synchronizing with recorded tracks are simply astounding.  Micaela De Pauli (Anaïs) dances a full-length modern ballet with hardly a moment’s break; she creates a character we know and follow through every subtle change, and leaves us gasping.

The multi-talented ensemble members — Denise Woods, Jacqueline Hinton, Mathew D’Amico, Quinn Jaxon, and Michael Quiett — meet equally fierce demands (and handle the scene changes) with grace. In addition, Jaxon creates Nin’s first husband, a shy banker; D’Amico blusters on as her second, a film actor and outdoorsman; and Quiett shakes her world as Henry Miller, her great mentor and lover.

Putting a whole life onstage is a nearly impossible challenge:  There’s so much to tell, and so little time.  Anaïs takes us into an incredibly complex life, and does it more effectively — and poetically — than any theatrical biography I can recall.

When you arrive the Greenway Court Theatre, you may expect to be shocked by Anaïs Nin’s sexual frankness, as generations have been. Then again, in our polygendered, polyamorous era, you may not be. But you definitely will meet her — and be stunned by the artistry of the storytelling.
Anaïs: A Dance Opera, by Janet Roston and Cindy Shapiro, directed by Janet Roston.
Presented by Mixed eMotion Theatrix and Diana Raab, at the Greenway Court Theatre, 544 N. Fairfax Ave., LA 90036.

Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00,
Sundays at 7:00,
through September 18th.

Tickets:  <> .