A Dark Musical Journey

The Scottsboro Boys -- Playhouse on Park -- Through August 4

The full cast. Photo by Meredith Longo

                What do we do with a drama that wants to be a musical and a musical that wants to be a drama?  That’s a question that John Kander and Fred Ebb, who were charged with writing the music and lyrics for “The Scottsboro Boys,” along with David Thompson, who had to write the book, probably asked themselves more than once, and it’s a tough question to answer. Did they resolve the difficulties? Well, that’s for you to judge if you travel up to West Hartford to Playhouse on Park, which is currently staging this hybrid musical under the direction of Sean Harris. Your response may well be a qualified one, for there are shining moments in this musical that, at the same time, also feels a heavy need to make a statement. Thus, your impressions may shift as you delight in some of the sprightlier numbers or feel depression set in as the statements become somewhat didactic.

                Who were the Scottsboro Boys? They were nine teenage black men who were arrested on spurious charges of the rape of two white women on a train in 1931. This was in Alabama, so the charges were, well, charged with racism and there were calls for the nine to be lynched. Instead, they went on trial and were found guilty by an all-white male jury. There was an immediate outcry of injustice, especially from elements of the American Communist Party. There were numerous other trials, with one of the women, Ruby Bates, recanting her accusations, but that was not enough to change the verdict of “Guilty” in the ensuing trials. The trials and incarceration of the nine went on for years, with the Supreme Court having to overturn the guilty verdicts twice. It is reported that Harper Lee drew on the trials of the nine young men when she came to write To Kill a Mockingbird.

                This is heavy stuff, so one can easily imagine what Kander, Ebb and Thompson were faced with when they decided to create the musical, which opened in 2010 on Broadway but ran for less than two months; it found greater success in London. One of the decisions the creative team made was to frame much of the musical as a minstrel show, with the underlying conceit that these nine young men were dancing to the white man’s tune. This works, up to a point, but the irony is that the black actors are, in fact, dancing to the white man’s tunes, and much of the entertainment to be derived from the show is in watching these minstrel numbers, creatively choreographed by Darlene Zoller. Thus, audience members may be of two minds about what they are watching: on the one hand they are enjoying the musical numbers but, on the other, they understand that this is all meant to be a critique of racism. What’s an audience to do?

                There’s no doubt that the cast that Harris et al. has assembled is outstanding, with many of the cast members doing double- and triple-duty when they are playing the accused young men as well as members of the minstrel show, with Dennis Holland as the Interlocutor (think emcee) and Ivory McKay as Mr. Bones and Torrey Linder as Mr. Tambo. Near the end of the show, after Bates has recanted her accusations, there is an especially chilling number, “Financial Advice,” superbly performed by Ivory McKay as Alabama’s attorney general. In the song, the attorney general suggests that Bates changed her testimony because she was bought off…by Jewish money, given that the defense attorney, Samuel Leibowitz, is a New York Jew. The song combines racism with anti-Semitism and can’t help but make audience members shift in their seats a bit.

                As one is watching the production, attention is drawn to a woman, book in hand, wandering around the fringe of the thrust stage. Who is she? What is her function? Although the audience may have suspicions, her function is revealed only in the last moment of the play. Although it’s meant to be trenchant, the reveal seems a bit superfluous. If the audience hasn’t gotten the message already, then the reveal is supposed to be an “Aha!” moment – “Now I see what all of this was leading to.” If it takes this reveal to make the point, then people weren’t listening and watching for the two-hour run of the show.

                It’s interesting, and somewhat daring, that the Playhouse decided to schedule this rather dark show at the end of the season. Often, theaters want their last production of the season to “leave ‘em laughin’ and singin’,” which this show definitely doesn’t do. Kudos to the Playhouse’s management for taking the risk. Hopefully, the enthusiastic opening-night audience will translate into good word-of-mouth to fill the theater through the end of the run. The performances alone are worth the price of admission, and if you don’t mind being challenge a bit and, at moments, made to feel a tad uncomfortable, then an evening with the nine Scottsboro Boys will, in the end, be rewarding.

                “The Scottsboro Boys” runs through August 4. For tickets or more information call 860-523-5900, X10, or go to www.playhouseonpark.org

Four Characters in Seach of a Plot

Skeleton Crew -- Westport Country Playhouse -- Through June 22

Perri Gaffney as Faye. Photo by Carol Rosegg

 

                To paraphrase Chekhov, if you show a gun in the first act of the play, it damn well better go off later on in the play. This is much akin to Hitchcock’s oft-quoted comment about a bomb underneath the table that eventually must go off. Well, playwright Dominique Morisseau shows us a gun early on in Skeleton Crew, which recently opened at Westport Country Playhouse, but, unfortunately, the gun never gets fired, and that somehow sums up the play, for although there’s a lot of development and implied relationships, the ‘big bang’ one might hope for never occurs, and thus the final scene has one of the main characters standing on stage, silent except for a sigh. He, perhaps along with the audience, might have been hoping for a more dramatic closure.

                The play, under the direction of La Williams, takes place in Detroit circa 2008. The country’s rust belt has already oxidized, and the play’s four characters work at a stamping plant that, it is rumored, will soon close. Morrisseau uses this backdrop to deal with, or at least touch upon, many issues, including corporate greed, the implosion of inner cities, racism, street violence and feminism – a heady brew that one might think will lead to some startling “bangs” but, alas, there are just whimpers. All of the action, such as it is, takes place in one of the plant’s break rooms, designed by Caite Hevner. The single-set creates constraints that the actors must overcome if they are to convey the conflict necessary for any drama to succeed and the necessity to convey the larger issues outside the confines of this small room. Many things are alluded to, but none of them are fully realized.

                What does come to life, engagingly so, is the character of Faye, portrayed by Perri Gaffney. She, a somewhat world-weary lesbian, has been working at this plant for 29 years and has become a mother-figure, of sorts, for the pregnant Shanita (Toni Martin), the street-smart Dez (Leland Fowler) and their supervisor, Reggie (Sean Nelson). Thanks to Gaffney, the interaction among these four characters is quite engaging – would that it was leading to some kind of conclusion. There seems to be as many plot lines as threads in a sweater, but Morriseau never really knits them together. It seems, at moments, as if we have four characters in search of reasons for being on stage.

                There’s Dez, the angry young man – he’s the one carrying the gun in his backpack. He fulminates and protests the unfairness of the system, but in the end his personality seems to fizzle out. Then there’s Shanita, a rather aimless young lady who, for whatever reason, sounds like she’s from the South and gives the impression she’s a sharecropper’s daughter – her character’s function seems, for the most part, to convey the idea that pregnant women need to eat a lot of stuff that probably isn’t good for them. Finally, there’s Reggie, who came up from the labor ranks and is now a manager who, well, doesn’t seem to know how to manage. Relational ties are hinted at but never really brought to light, and character flaws, like Faye’s gambling problem, are introduced so late in the play that they have little bearing on the proceedings.

                  So, what we have in Skeleton Crew is a grouping of character studies, interesting to a certain degree in and of themselves, but with no overarching dramatic sense of rising action, climax and denouement. The characters evoke our interest…as characters…but do we really care about them? I would suggest not.

                Skeleton Crew runs through June 22. For tickets or more information call 203-227-4177 or go to www.westportplayhouse.org.

Come to the Cabaret

Cabaret -- Music Theatre of Connecticut -- Through April 14

Eric Scott Kincaid as the Emcee

                What images come to mind when someone mentions the musical Cabaret? Well, most people are familiar with the 1972 film directed by Bob Fosse that starred Liza Minelli, Michael York and Joel Grey. It was big, it was flashy, especially given the distinctive Fosse choreography, and it certainly “opened up” the 1966 Broadway show. In a way, it had an epic quality to it, but somehow something got lost in the translation from stage to screen, a sense of what the musical was really about. Yes, it captured the milieu of Weimar Berlin’s decadence but what you probably remember most are the Fosse production numbers. Well, if you travel to Music Theatre of Connecticut in Norwalk you’ll experience a different Cabaret, a more intimate two hours that focuses on the two “love” stories, if you can call them that, and the darkness that descended on the world as the Nazis took power in Germany.

                As directed by Kevin Connors, MTC’s executive artistic director and its co-founder, this is, given the size of the venue, a scaled-down version of the musical (for example, there are only two Kit Kat Klub girls), but that allows the audience to focus on what is most important, which is the emotional relationships of the show’s primary characters: Sally Bowles (Desiree Davar) and Cliff Bradshaw (Nicolas Dromard), and Fraulein Schneider (Anne Kanengeiser) and Herr Shultz (Jim Schilling). The musical numbers written by John Kander and Fred Webb, take on deeper meanings, especially so for the show’s signature song, “Cabaret,” sung by Sally.

                Set in Berlin in the 1930s, and based on Christopher Isherwood’s Goodbye to Berlin, it begins with Bradshaw’s arrival in Berlin after meeting the somewhat mysterious Ernst Ludwig (Andrew Foote) on a train. Bradshaw is quickly introduced to Berlin’s demi monde as represented by the Kit Kat Klub, with its gender-challenging Emcee (Eric Scott Kincaid) and “the toast of Mayfair,” Sally Bowes.

Desiree Davar as Sally Bowles

                The inherent decadence of the era (and the denial of what is occurring in Germany as the Nazis rise to power), is captured in the opening number, “Willkommen,” sung in a suggestive, sensuous manner by Kincaid. The song suggests that the Klub’s patrons can disregard the growing ugliness of the real world because everything is “beautiful” inside the confines of the Klub.

                Sally is quickly drawn to Cliff, and in a song that borders on despair mixed with hope (“Maybe this Time”, a song Davar delivers with a great deal of controlled emotion), her character is established: she is a tarnished dreamer, a romantic in a world ruled by harsh reality, because “everybody loves a winner, so nobody loves me.”

Nicolas Dromard as Cliff Bradshaw

                Cliff finds lodgings in a boardinghouse run by Fraulein Schneider, and this allows for the introduction of the second plot line, for Herr Shultz also rooms there, and he, though shy, is smitten with his landlady. Since he is an importer and seller of fruit, Shultz, who is Jewish, woos Schneider with fruit, and eventually proposes via a pineapple, leading to Kanengeiser and Schilling creating a moving moment as they sing the tender ballad, “Married.”

Anne Kanengeiser and Jim Schilling

 

                Many familiar with the various iterations of the musical may be disappointed that songs they expect to hear have been excised from this production. Missing, for example, are “Mein Herr” and “Money,” but this production can be viewed as a drama with music, with the emphasis on drama. As such, the focus on denial becomes crystal-clear: Fraulein Schneider turns away from her intended husband because of the growing anti-Semitism in Germany; Herr Shultz denies the danger he is in by claiming that nothing bad can happen to him because he is, after all, German; Sally opts to reject Cliff’s offer to go with him to America because she cannot embrace happiness and, instead, clings to the false world that is the cabaret. The only character who seems to accept the inherent tawdriness of Weimar Berlin is Fraulein Kost (the frisky Hillary Ekwall), the other Kit Kat Klub girl. She services sailors to pay her rent, with an attitude that this is just the way of the world – people use each other just to get by.

                   MTC’s production of Cabaret may not be what many patrons had been anticipating, but to truly enjoy and understand what Connors has crafted it’s necessary to set aside preconceived notions, for it is essentially a perceptive character study of four people caught up in a world that is becoming darker by the moment. Hence, when Sally sings “Cabaret” near the end of the show it is not a glowing tribute to a certain lifestyle but rather a desperate attempt to justify that lifestyle, to justify denial. After all, “Life is a cabaret,” isn’t it?

                This is, in essence, a dark story, emphasized by RJ Romeo’s lighting scheme. Carousel had its dark moments, but they were balanced against the show’s closing number, “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” Such is not the case with Cabaret, for several of the main characters do, in fact, in the end walk alone to their doom. Kudos to Connors and the cast for bringing to life a disturbing, moving tale of lost souls in a world verging on madness, a story that suggests that you can’t stay in the cabaret forever.

                Cabaret runs through April 14. For tickets or more information go to www.musictheatreofct.com or call 203-454-3883.

Dancing Like the Stars

Reel to Real -- Playhouse on Park -- Through April 7

All photos by Rich Wagner

The choreographer Merce Cunningham once said, “You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive.” The truth of that statement, especially the feeling “alive” part, can be confirmed by traveling to West Hartford’s Playhouse on Park to view its current production of Reel to Real, an offering by stop/time Dance Theater, PoP’s resident dance company, that captures visually the definition of “exuberance.” If you’re feeling a bit down or out of sorts I suggest you hasten up to PoP, buy a ticket and feel your spirits rise and the “Blue Meanies” run for cover (or perhaps start dancing)

So, who will you see on the stage? Well, there’s a speech-language pathologist, several teachers, an administrative assistant at a plastics company, a medical assistant, a volunteer for Dog Star Rescue, a project manager for The Hartford, a physical therapist, a director at an IT consulting company and a dentist (really!). What do they all have in common? Well, obviously, a passion for dance as well as the fact that most of them have been dancing since they were tykes.

As directed and choreographed by Darlene Zoller, who is also the co-founder and co-artistic director at the Playhouse, Reel to Real’s premise is that a man gets locked in a movie theater and, a la Woody Allen’s The Purple Rose of Cairo, screen characters come to life. That’s about it in terms of plot, but plot is not really that important, it’s just the premise that allows Zoller to create some wonderful moments on PoP’s intimate thrust stage.

The show opens with a number from Chicago – “Mr. Cellophane” – that Rick Fountain nails. The musical will be revisited later on during the evening with an entrancing performance of the “Cell Block Tango” and, much to Zoller’s credit, this is not a slavish rehash of Bob Fosse’s choreography. As she commented after the show: “We did our own thing.”

This tour of music and dance numbers from the silver screen gets one’s mind a-working, and if you don’t peek at the program you start thinking: “I wonder if they’ll do…” Well, they can’t do everything (alas, there’s no Fred and Ginger dancing in the dark), but they do hit a lot of high spots, including “When You’re Good to Mamma,” from the aforementioned Chicago, which the talented Amanda Forker belts out with appropriate brio.

Then, from Singin’ in the Rain, there’s the witty “Moses Supposes,” featuring Fountain, Forker and Meredith Longo. Six dancers do a rendition of “Somewhere in the Night” from La La Land, there’s a nod to Mary Poppins (“Step in Time”), and the whole shebang wraps up with two numbers from The Greatest Showman, although I must admit that I wished they had taken on “Come Alive” from that film, but no one asked for my opinion when the show was being put together.

If there’s one false note in the show, it’s the closing number for the first act, which is a “Disco Star Wars” piece that seems to go on forever and not have a clear, conceptual focus. However, one quickly gets over this, for the evening is filled with number and after number that seems to shimmer and shine, no more so than when the entire ensemble is on stage. Whether it’s “Good Morning Baltimore” from Hairspray, “Rhythm of the Night,” featured in Moulin Rouge, or a sensuous take on the “Bohemian Dance” from Funny Face (during which, thanks to the number's principal dancer Alicia Voukides, you’d swear Audrey Hepburn has come back to life), there will be moments that evoke some very fond movie-going memories, and even if you’re not familiar with all of the films referenced, you can’t help but be swept up by the cast’s enthusiasm and talent. By day, they may be teachers, admin and medical assistants, a dentist and an IT consultant, but by night they are dancers, and although it may not pay the rent, it’s obvious that dancing and performing brings joy and passion to their lives, and that joy and passion is lovingly offered to the audience.

This is a show that can’t help but make you smile and perhaps tap your toes, one that might even evoke the thought: “You know, I’d like to see that again.” It runs through April 7. For tickets or more information call 860-523-5900, X10, or go to www.playhouseonpark.org

Lies? Maybe

"Clever Little Lies" -- Square One Theatre Company -- Through March 17

Peter Wood and Paulo Araujo

                In the theater, size really doesn’t matter. You can have the biggest, most lavish venue and a budget that Croesus would envy and still board a clunker (certain recent productions come to mind, but I shan’t mention them). Then you can have a tight budget and a playing space in which you aren’t sure you can safely swing a cat and still produce an engaging, delightful (and thoughtful) evening of theater that satisfies on multiple levels. Such is the case with Square One’s production of Joe DiPietro’s “Clever Little Lies,” directed by Tom Holehan. Nested in the Stratford Academy, this black box theater, if nothing else, points out how nuance and small gestures, easily seen and appreciated by an audience that is just feet away from the performers, allow actors to ply their craft without having to play to the back row.

                The play is essentially a domestic comedy that is driven by infidelity, real or possibly imagined. It all begins when Bill, Sr. (Peter Wood) has just bested his son, Billy (Paulo Araujo) in a tennis game and they are cooling off and changing their clothes in the locker room. Bill senses that something is bothering his son, so he presses and Billy finally breaks down and says he is having an affair with Jasmine, a 20-year-old trainer at his gym. She is, despite the fact Billy is married to Jane (Josie Kulp) and they have a three-month-old daughter, the light of his life, especially when it comes to sex. Bill is, quietly, nonplussed, but he promises he will not mention any of this to Alice (the marvelous Peggy Nelson), Bill’s wife and Billy’s mother. Well, that doesn’t work out very well because in DiPietro’s world. women just know.

 

Josie Kulp and Peggy Nelson

 

                What follows is a delightful cat and mouse game that involves Billy and Jane being invited over by Alice for some cheese cake and talk about “this and that.” Here witty dialogue and some superb acting take over as the two couples deal with innuendo and, perhaps, an affair that Alice had decades ago.

                One of the things that is so enjoyable about this production, as alluded to above, is that the actors can telegraph emotions, often quite humorously, without having to beat drums or prance and pander to the audience. Cases in point: Kulp expresses volumes just by widening her eyes, tensing her shoulders and pursing her lips; Wood uses silence and a thousand-yard stare to emphasize his confliction; Araujo seems to bulk-up as he tries to defend his affair (after all, Jasmine is a trainer) and Nelson, well, she just owns the stage as she confesses (is it a confession?) to an affair.  I’d be happy to bring undergraduate drama students to this production just to have them take note of how Nelson uses her hands.

                I’ve been bored, often yawning and contemplating sneaking out at intermission, while attending some recent “big theater” productions, but there was never a moment when I wanted to leave the confines of Square One. Holehan seems to have a knack for selecting plays that focus on the nature of intimacy, the little things that, in the end, mean so much. He also has the luxury of drawing on a talent pool (Araujo and Kulp are new to Square One) that is professionally outstanding.

                Yes, Square One has, at times, stumbled a bit over its 29 years – what theater company hasn’t? Yet, since I’ve been attending the performances for over ten years, I have been consistently impressed by the quality of the acting and the sensitivity of the direction. This is a small theater with a big heart, and ”Clever Little Lies” will make you smile, at times guffaw, and as you’re driving home, make you think…and ponder the possibilities. You can’t ask more of theater than that.

                “Clever Little Lies” runs through March 17. For tickets or more information call 203-375-8778 or go to www.squareonetheatre.com.

                 

Detroit '67...and so?

Detroit '67 -- Hartford Stage -- Through March 10

                Sometimes you can try too hard to make people care, to tell them “This is important – this is vital.” Such is the case with Dominique Morisseau’s Detroit ’67, which recently opened at Hartford Stage. The play focuses on a black family living in Detroit during the 1967 race riots, and it should be compelling, but it isn’t. The playwright works very hard to draw in the audience, to make those staring up at Riccardo Hernandez’s single set care about the characters, but, by and large, given the structure of the play, the audience remains aloof. Quite simply, you want to care, to be involved, but there’s not that much to care about.

                If you ever took Drama 101 in college, one of the first things you learned was that, for a play to work, there has to be conflict. That is, one character wants something and another character is set on thwarting him or her from achieving the goal. So, is there such conflict in Detroit ’67? Yes, of a sort, for you see, Lank (Johnny Ramey) wants to use inherited money to buy a bar, while his sister, Chelle (Myxolydia Tyler), opposes the idea. She wants to keep things safe, the way they have always been – hence her use of a phonograph to play scratched 45 rpm records. Lank wants to move forward, which is why he and his friend, Sly (Will Cobbs) bring a rather bulky 8-track tape player into the house. It takes a good deal of time to establish this (the production runs over two hours) and, to be honest, it really doesn’t generate much tension. Morisseau, perhaps realizing this, introduces a new character, and it is here that the play goes slightly off the rails.

                Mid-way through the first act, the door to the cellar opens and down the steps come Sly and Lank carrying a body. It’s Caroline (Ginna Le Vine), a white woman. They place the comatose body on the couch. Soon Chelle appears and asks the rather obvious question: “What the hell is she doing here?” The audience might well ask the same question. We learn, eventually, that Caroline, a “waitress” at a strip club, had been assaulted by her boyfriend, a cop, and wandering on the street in a daze, she was seen by Lank and Sly, and Lank, being the good Samaritan that he is, bundled her into their truck and brought her home. Really?

                So, Caroline eventually regains consciousness and reveals that she has no place to go, so Lank, obviously smitten by this white woman, suggests that she stay with his family for a while. Chelle initially objects, but finally suggests that if Caroline is to stay she needs to work, for the brother and sister run a sort-of after-hours club in their basement. Caroline agrees (Really??) and is thus charged with putting potato chips into bowls and doing other menial tasks (there’s a message here, but I’m not sure what it is).

                Le Vine’s character is initially dazed by her boyfriend’s assault. The daze wears off, but not the sense of “What the hell am I doing here in this play?” Le Vine, given the character she is asked to portray, seems at sea most of the time, dutifully delivering her lines but unsure of what her character is contributing to the thrust of the play. Not her fault. The fault lies in the fact that, I suspect, Morriseau is also unsure why she has created this character, or what Bunny (Nyahale Allie), a family friend, is also supposed to be contributing to the play.

                Then there are the race riots, which brought Federal troops and tanks to the city, their presence captured by Nicole Pearce’s lighting and Karin Graybash’s sound. Buildings are being burned, people are being shot and, yes, it affects the family we have been with, but it, oddly enough, seems somewhat beside the point. It’s not that these were not horrific times and that racial tensions didn’t came to a boil, but it all seems unrelated to what we’ve been asked to pay attention to, the disconnect being exacerbated by Caroline’s running in and out – a comely white woman can go wherever she wants in a black neighborhood during a race riot? I mean, again, really?

                The problem with the play is best captured in its final moments, for there has been a loss, a death, that directly affects Chelle, and she grieves, but she is not allowed to grieve alone, for the lighting shifts and there is gunfire and the sound of growling tanks to accentuate her grief. We are asked to understand that the thin stitches that hold our society together are being torn apart but, it’s a theatrical, over-kill moment, manipulative in a most obvious way. Again, we are being instructed to care when the play has done little to make us want relate to these characters. Yes, there’s sound and fury, but what, in the end, does it signify? When, at the end of Driving Miss Daisy, Hoke feeds Daisy a piece of pie, our heart breaks and what the play has been about is confirmed. When Chelle grieves, we’re not sure what we should feel except, perhaps, relief that the play is finally over.

                Detroit ’67 runs through March 10. For tickets or more information call 860-527-5151 or go to www.hartfordstage.org

Present at the Revolution

The Revolutionists -- Playhouse on Park -- Through March 10

Olivia Jampol, Rebecca Hart and Erin Roche
Photos by Meredith Longo

“What’s playing at Hartford Stage?’
“(Insert here the name of a favorite play or musical you’ve probably seen more than once.)”
“Great, I’ll get tickets. How about at Playhouse on Park?”
“Something called ‘The Revolutionists.’”
“Never heard of it.”
“Neither have I.”
“I think we’ll pass.”

This conversation is not surprising, given the need to wisely use limited entertainment dollars. We have a tendency to go with the familiar rather than the unfamiliar, to bet on the tried-and-true rather than the untested. However, in the case of “The Revolutionists,” written by Lauren Gunderson, your decision to eschew an evening at Playhouse because you are unfamiliar with the play would be a big mistake, because “The Revolutionists” is a witty, engaging romp, an exercise into “what if?” history that satisfies on multiple levels and is more than worth the price of admission.

The play takes us to Paris during the height of the Reign of Terror and introduces us to four characters who, in real life, probably never met. First, we meet Olympe De Gouges (Rebecca Hart, who is blessed with a great sense of comedic timing), a frustrated female playwright whose theme song might well be “I Can’t Get Started.” Her only distinction is that she is probably the only female playwright in Paris, and it is for this reason that her door opens and in marches Charlotte Corday (the magnetic Olivia Jampol, who plays Corday as if she is a member of a female rock band and has time-traveled from the 1970s to the late 1700s).

Why has Corday come to see De Gouges? Well, she plans to assassinate Jean-Paul Marat, a man who has sent hundreds of people to meet Madame Guillotine. Corday flashes a knife and demands that De Gouges write an appropriate final line for her, something memorable she can exclaim as she cuts the tyrant’s throat. As would be expected, De Gouges is a bit flummoxed. Her confusion, however, will not end here, for she is about to receive two more visitors.

Jennifer Holcombe and Erin Roche

 

Marianne Angelle (the steady, engaging Erin Roche) is a Caribbean revolutionist who wishes to throw off the yoke of French rule and wants De Gouges to write pamphlets and broadsides in support of her cause. For a writer who is suffering from severe writer’s block, this is becoming a bit more than demanding, but there’s one more person who seeks out De Gouges for her writing ability, and that is, yes, Marie-Antoinette (the marvelous Jennifer Holcombe who, for most of the evening, plays the queen as if she’s just come from playing Miss Adelaide in “Guys and Dolls.”). The queen believes that she has been misunderstood and wishes De Gouges to set the record straight (you see, she never actually said “Let them eat cake,” she was just ordering lunch and, after all, what’s lunch without a piece of cake?)

Thus the stage is set for 90 minutes of rapid-fire dialogue dealing with, among other things, feminism, misogyny, revolutionary zealotry, the theater and the dynamics of play writing. If all of this sounds like heavy baggage, it isn’t, for Gunderson has a marvelous sense of humor and is deft at writing witty repartee while sliding in multiple allusions to contemporary history and theater, all of which director Sarah Hartman is keenly attuned to.

Perhaps you’re thinking, well, this is a period piece so the dialogue will probably be littered with archaic words and made difficult to understand because of out-of-date syntax. Here, again, you would be wrong, for though these are characters who lived in the late 18^th century, their vocabulary and style of conversation is definitely modern, which, in itself, creates much of the humor, for one would not expect, for example, Marie-Antoinette to speak about certain topics in the manner she does.

Gunderson has written what might well be called a verbal carnival that offers something for everyone, and the four superb actors seem determined that you not miss anything. Hart’s portrayal of the somewhat neurotic De Gouges, the first character we meet, establishes the slightly zany, verbal pyrotechnics that will fill the evening. If you weren’t sure that you had entered a Wonderland version of the French Revolution, Corday’s entrance will confirm that we’ve gone down the rabbit hole. With untamed golden locks, Jampol is a self-proclaimed assassin who seems to be on Speed, a whirlwind of emotions whose only wish is become immortal by insuring her place in history.

Of the four characters, Roche’s Marianne Angell seems to be the most stable as she works to help De Gouges overcome her inability to set pen to paper. Yet Roche instills in her character a dignity and dedication to “the cause” that is a nice counterpoint to Corday’s more histrionic approach to combatting tyranny.

Finally, there’s Holcombe’s Marie-Antoinette. The challenge of creating a “ditzy blond (or bewigged)” character is much akin to that of creating a “bad actor” character – there’s always the temptation to take the portrayal just a bit too far, but Holcombe, thanks to the dialogue she’s been given by Gunderson, while prancing and often babbling, allows her character’s innate intelligence to peek through.

To get the full benefit of attending and enjoying “The Revolutionists,” you have to pay close attention, for many of the best lines are, well, one-liners, such as Du Gouges comment to Marianne (who is black) that Thomas Jefferson would appreciate her, or when, near the end of the play, De Gouges envisions writing a musical about the Revolution, she asks, “Do you hear the people sing?” Her idea is rejected out of hand.

So, if you’re deciding how to budget your entertainment funds, give “The Revolutionists” a shot. You won’t begrudge the money spent, because the play is chock-full of verbal goodies and is brought to life by four actors who, each in her own way, beguiles and entrances. Quite simply, this is theater worth seeing.

“The Revolutionists” runs through March 10. For tickets or more information call 860-523-5900, X10, or go to www.playhouseonpark.org