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  • Christmas Theater 2025, Part II – Houston Press

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    There are two distinct locales for this critique: the Regency manse at Pemberley (Georgiana and Kitty, Christmas at Pemberley at Main Street) and C.S. Lewis’ mystical realm of Narnia (Narnia, the Musical, at A.D. Players). Both places are required viewing during the holiday season; G and K for the adults, Narnia for the kiddies (although adults might learn a thing or two, also).

    Georgiana and Kitty, Christmas at Pemberley

    Lauren Gunderson remains the most produced playwright in the U.S., so says the statistical bible of theater production, American Theatre magazine. Who, I hear you asking? This young prolific writer has penned a raft of plays that have struck a chord with audiences: The Revolutionists, Silent Sky, The Half-Life of Marie Curie, The Book of Will, I and You, among others. She focuses on women in historical contexts, to honor their courage, grit, and determination to match men in whatever field they espouse. She gives these under-appreciated women their due, deservedly so.

    She hit gold with her social satire trilogy, Christmas at Pemberley, a witty, Wildean triple bill that asks the question, What happened to everybody after Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Where are they now? The Janeites turned out in droves to re-connect with the five Bennet sisters and learn their fate, and, during the holiday season, one of her triad is playing somewhere in America. Be it Miss Bennet, The Wickhams, or Georgiana and Kitty.

    Clever, intelligent Elizabeth and her cat-and-mouse maneuverings with Fitzwilliam Darcy was so thoroughly covered in P&P that I assume Gunderson and co-writer Margot Melcon decided that these two had enough print time, so they sought to mine the other four daughters. Bookworm Mary, an observer with sharp tongue and bon mots, takes center stage in Miss Bennet; wayward and flighty Lydia, the youngest, is the protagonist of The Wickhams; and Kitty is somewhat the focus of Georgiana and Kitty. Somewhat, because Darcy’s sister Georgiana is soloed almost exclusively. Poor Kitty is a plus-one. And dear, sweet Jane, the eldest, is relegated through the triptyph as almost non-existent, sitting on the divan either pregnant and doing needlepoint or as a new mother on the divan doing needlepoint. Yemi Otulana is a striking presence on stage, but Jane is so underwritten and underused you wonder why Gunderson and Melcon even included her. 

    So the play falls to Georgiana and actor Lindsey Ehrhardt, who has a field day in the role. She is headstrong, at odds with her stuffy brother, and a prodigy at the piano. She composes on the side, but under an assumed male name. This ruse will be the fulcrum around which the second act – and her love story – revolves. Ehrhardt never disappoints, whether playing the haughty and pompous Anne de Bough in Miss Bennet or the liberated, outspoken Georgiana. If she keeps her light under a bushel, it isn’t for long. She blazes.

    Robby Matlock (so memorable in Stages’ The Lehman Trilogy as youngest brother Mayer, the “potato”) plays Henry Grey, in love with Georgiana from afar ever since he met her at one of her concerts. Prejudiced Darcy neither approves of this match nor her playing in public. Matlock knows just what he’s doing with his awkward poses and obsequious bows, but we know the flame for Georgiana will not be extinguished. No matter the obstacles – and there are many to be thrown in his path – he will win her, he thinks, even after years of not seeing her. It’s a detailed performance, right in every way.

    Clara Marsh, as Kitty, has to battle with a few plot predicaments that don’t ring true, but she rides over them with a bubbly and true personality. Ian Lewis, who has lost his rich Irish accent since last he played Thomas O’Brien in 2023, still possesses devilish charm in spades. As boisterous Lydia who refuses to be bored at Pemberley, Helen Rios needs a net thrown over her to keep her down. Way over the top. Always the diplomat, Laura Kaldis, as Elizabeth Bennet, is all poise and soothing sister to her siblings, charming and attractive as the robin’s egg blue of Pemberley’s wallpaper. Tsk-ing in the background or making peace between her adored husband and his once-adored sister, she and Darcy (a proud and ramrod Spencer Plachy) don’t have much to do in this play except run interference for the others, but Darcy’s heartfelt apology to Georgiana at play’s end is the moral of the tale and is rendered with conviction and sincerity. Bravo, Plachy.  

    Dare I say, many complications arise for the indefatigable and irrepressible Bennet sisters, yet the comic play keeps all the balls in the air with immense grace and charm. It has a lovely way of blending the ancient regime with our new one. Clever and witty, the repartee is Austen-like, skewing toward the distaff at Darcy’s expense. There’s a satisfactory twist at the end which is neat, a proposal long overdue, family arguments to get settled with sisterly wiles, recitals at the pianoforte, and Donna Southern Smith’s radiant costumes to keep you enthralled. There are tail coats to be whisked up before sitting for the men, and multiple empire gowns for the ladies of the manse with detailed embroidery or diaphanous overlays.

    It’s quite the picture at Main Street’s Pemberley. Immerse yourself in another world that often looks surprisingly like our own.

    Georgiana and Kitty, Christmas at Pemberley continues through December 21 at 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays through Fridays and 3 p.m. Sundays at Main Street Theater, 2540 Times Boulevard. For more information, call 713-524-6706 or visit mainstreettheater.com. $15-$64.

    Everett Baugarten and Amber Ward in Narnia, the Musical Credit: Pin Lim

    Narnia, the Musical

    Not to be confused with Narnia, the Ballet, or Narnia, the Interpretive Dance, or Narnia, The Symphonic Poem, Narnia, the Musical (off-Broadway, 1993) is exactly what it says it is. The show is built for kids, and for the most part they should eat it up. Of course, I doubt they will understand the religious parable that C.S. Lewis weaves through his hit books that chronicle the adventures of the four Pevensie children (Lucy, Susan, Peter and Edmund) sent into the English countryside to escape the German blitz on London during the early days of WW II.

    Inside the immense wardrobe in the Professor’s gothic country house, the children enter a magic portal that transports them into the fantasy world of Narnia, where talking fauns carry umbrellas (he talks in this show, but no umbrella), unicorns run free, cantankerous married beavers bicker, and there is now perpetual snow and ice. There’s winter, but no Christmas, say the enchanted inhabitants. The tyrannical White Witch rules the kingdom., but the actual king is Aslan, the mighty and fierce Lion, who is the actual ruler. His return is dreaded by the Witch and by the prophecy of her power being defeated by “two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve.” Hence, any humans in her kingdom are immediately killed or seduced into her service, as is Edmund by Turkish Delight and the promise to be made king.

    In an abbreviated adaptation by Jules Tasca of Lewis’ classic tale The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,the musical skips over motivation and character development to give us archetypes and easy-to-decipher plot points. The music, by prolific composer Thomas Tierney, is a bit Sondheim-light with jagged melodies that cry for that master’s orchestrator, Jonathan Tunick. Ted Drachman’s lyrics are fine and serviceable, but the music, prerecorded, sounds thin and undistinguished via synthesizer. That’s too bad, because a few of the numbers are quite memorable: “Doors and Windows;” “Narnia (You Can’t Imagine), sung hymn-like by Saroa-Dwayne Sasa as Mr. Tumnus, the faun; a jazzy “Hot and Bothered,” sung by the White Witch (a deliciously evil Amber Ward with the belt of Merman); Aslan’s gorgeous ballad to a repentant Edmund, “From the Inside Out,” or his anthem “To Make the World Right Again,” both rendered in the sonorous tenor of Daniel Z. Miller. There’s gold in this score, it’s just insufficiently mined.

    Watch and listen to Mark Quach and Leah Bernal as Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. You can’t miss ‘em. They delightfully chew up the scenery and sing up a storm. What a pair of English music hall vaudevillians.

    I must say, the child actors are very good indeed. And they can sing. Jonah Mendoza’s Peter can really sing, loud and crisp, and effective. It was a pleasure hearing him. Everett Baumgarten’s falsetto relayed  Edmund’s petulance and vanity; Paige Klase’s Susan was no-nonsense in her anti-war stance; and little Annalise Wisdom, as young Lucy, displayed great chops in the lovely “A Field of Flowers,” an ode to Aslan.

    The pacing by director Ashlee Wasmund is lackluster with awkward pauses or entrances and exits abnormally drawn out. Even the turntable turns too slowly. Pick up the pace, please, or else the kids will be falling asleep after the opening number.

    The biggest disappointment is Afsaneh Aayani’s puppet for Aslan. Her prior work in Houston theater has always been amazing, clever, often verging on the astonishing. But here, big ol’ lug Aslan is a bore. Moved by three puppeteers, among them Miller as his voice, head, and front leg, Aslan has no grace, charm, or much imagination. His mouth doesn’t even move. Really, we’ve seen The Lion King and The Life of Pi. We know how incredibly believable life-size puppets can be, even when manipulated by onstage hands. But this Aslan needs an overhaul. 

    The Sunday matinee performance was sold-out, so the story of Narnia still sells. An international best-seller for decades, always listed as one of the great reads for children (and some adults, too), Lewis’ magic carpet ride speaks to children of all ages. A.D. Player’s production, abetted by Tatiana Vintu’s fanciful sets, Kristina Miller-Ortiz’ whimsical costumes, David Palmer’s lighting, those talented kids, the grand ol’ troupers enlivening the Beavers, and Joel Sandel’s crusty ol’ Father Christmas and a wry, all-knowing Professor, keep this story of faith, hope, and community alive for another generation. It just needs more magic.

    Narnia, the Musical continues through December 23 at 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays through Saturdays and 2 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays at A.D. Players at The George, 5420 Westheimer. For more information, call 713-526-2721 or visit adplayers.org. $10-$85.

    This article appears in Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2025.

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    D. L. Groover

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  • Freud’s Last Session a Riveting Meeting of the Minds at A.D. Players – Houston Press

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    It’s Sunday, September 3, 1939, and the world is once again at the brink of a global conflict. Hitler’s invasion of Poland is underway, and Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain is soon to speak from 10 Downing Street. And, in A.D. Players’ production of Freud’s Last Session by Mark St. Germain, over at 20 Maresfield Gardens, London, 83-year-old Sigmund Freud awaits the arrival of a young Oxford professor named C.S. Lewis.

    Though Lewis assumes Freud’s invitation is based in his taking offense at a character Lewis modeled on Freud, one Lewis describes as a “vain, ignorant old man,” Freud says no. He never read Lewis’s book; he was intrigued by Lewis’s essay on Paradise Lost.

    Freud, an avowed atheist, has summoned Lewis, an atheist-turned-Christian, to understand why he “abandoned truth and embraced an insidious lie.” In turn, Freud wonders if Lewis came, at least subconsciously, for a debate. Regardless of whether or not he did, that’s what the men find, an intellectual tête-à-tête that digs not only into their different worldviews, specifically regarding the existence of God, but also their families and, in particular, their fathers (whom they both despised), the problem of suffering, sex, mortality, and humanity, which appears to be once again on the eve of catastrophe.

    Though Freud and Lewis never met in real life, St. Germain was inspired to bring them together for a morning conversation in his 2010 play by Armand Nicholi, a Harvard professor who turned his course on the two men’s diametrically opposed viewpoints into a 2002 book called The Question of God. As such, the play is talky and never leaves its singular location, Freud’s London study. Though light on action, Christy Watkins’s direction keeps the evening taut, expertly navigating the ebb and flow, the wit and tension of St. Germain’s script so the back-and-forth never gets a chance to wane in the play’s brisk, 80-minute runtime.

    James Belcher in Freud’s Last Session at A.D. Players. Credit: Jesse GrothOlson

    Freud’s Last Session is a two-hander, and, as such, the production belongs to its two actors, James Belcher and Philip Hays.

    Belcher projects every bit of the intellectual certainty you would expect from Freud, his voice sure and booming. But it’s the way Belcher embodies Freud’s illness, with a recurring cough and a handkerchief glued to his hand, that adds tension and poignancy to the character. His cancer, inoperable and advanced, forces his own frailty to the fore, undermining him, as even though his mind is sharp and he is more than willing to bark and bellow his disagreement, his body repeatedly betrays him when he does.

    Opposite Belcher, Hays plays C.S. Lewis with an openness and optimism that stops just short of naivete. His younger status is further emphasized by Costume Designer Marissa Burnsed, who gives Hays a softer look, with a light blue sweater vest beneath his jacket. Hays’ quieter mannerisms are a good foil to Belcher’s bombast. As Lewis, Hays often appears to take Freud’s more aggressive salvos in stride, with a curious tilt of his head and a thoughtful twist of his mouth. Though Freud does manage to score some direct hits, it’s the air raid siren, and the ensuing panic, that reveal an even deeper humanity in Lewis’s character. Hays lets the shadow of Lewis’s experience in the World War I settle over him – composure disappearing, eyes unseeing, breathing uneven.

    Together, Belcher and Hays settle into a captivating rapport, making it easy to forget that the play is just two men talking in one room. Their chemistry is entrancing, particularly during humorous exchanges. Belcher’s quips lean dry, sometimes disdainful, while Hays delivers with more of an aware, understated amusement. The perfectly played rhythm keeps the conversation dynamic and real. The momentum of the play is further sustained by the design choices, which ensure the world hums (and sometimes wails) with life throughout the show.

    Actor Philip Hays in Freud’s Last Session at A.D. Players.
    Philip Hays in Freud’s Last Session at A.D. Players. Credit: Miranda Zaebst

    The play is contained within one crescent-curved set, which depicts Freud’s London study, a replica, he says, of the one he left behind in Vienna after fleeing the Nazis. In the hands of Scenic Designer Chad Arrington, with properties by Charly Topper, the room, highly detailed and richly textured, feels like an extension of Freud’s mind – overflowing with knowledge. Books fill the shelves that line the walls and more are stacked, precarious and haphazard, in every available nook. Artifacts, busts, a globe, and other assorted knick-knacks, as well as a phone and radio that are almost third and fourth characters in the play, fill the space between.

    Amongst the furniture is, of course, Freud’s famous couch, the throw over it an echo of the Qashqa’i shekarlu rug that covered the real deal. The real prize of the room, however, is the eye-catching stained-glass window at the set’s center, flanked by red curtains drawn to mostly obscure the frosty windows through which the men look for and catch glimpses of the encroaching war outside.

    The war is an ever-present threat looming over Freud and Lewis’ encounter. It’s made most concrete via the updates coming in over the radio and then panic-inducing when the air raid siren blares, both diegetic examples of Sound Designer Jacob Sanchez’s contributions to the production. They interrupt and add further depth to the world outside the study.  

    Christina Giannelli wraps the study in warmth with her lighting choices, giving the room an almost cozy feel that contrasts with the war so close on the horizon. The 14 light bulbs that hang bare over the stage add an interesting note, again emphasizing the concept of ideas at play here. Most effective, though, is the dramatic spotlight that introduces Freud in the play’s opening image – standing before the stained-glass window, back to the audience – which the show later closes with, circling back to it in a haunting tableau.

    Freud’s Last Session is a gift of an answer to the question-plea of “to be fly on the wall.” For a brief moment, over at The George Theater, you can be a fly on the wall to hear two of the finest thinkers of the 20th century engage in a little good faith debating on a Sunday morning, though it’s far from a quiet Sunday morning. War is inevitable, and life is never guaranteed. Freud says at one point, “Do you count on your tomorrows? I do not.” This sense of urgency is woven though the play, making the production not just an intellectual exercise, but a deeply human reflection on the questions that we wrestle with most. And, as Freud reminds us, the “greater madness is not to think of it at all.”

    Performances of Freud’s Last Session will continue at 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays through Fridays, 2 and 7:30 p.m. Saturdays, and 2 p.m. Sundays through October 19 at The George Theater, 5420 Westheimer. For more information, call 713-526-2721 or visit adplayers.org.$30-$85.

    This article appears in Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2025.

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    Natalie de la Garza

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  • A.D. Players’ Fiddler on the Roof Is Classic Broadway

    A.D. Players’ Fiddler on the Roof Is Classic Broadway

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    When radical student Perchik (Patrick Fretwell) makes his entrance in the third scene of Fiddler on the Roof (1964), the multiple Tony Award-winning Jerry Bock (music), Sheldon Harnick (lyrics), Joseph Stein (book) and Jerome Robbins (director/choreographer) musical about Jewish life in imperial Russia’s Pale of Settlement, deftly on stage via A.D. Players, he states that he’s newly arrived in Anatevka from Kiev. The word slaps us in the face. You can hear the audience’s breath being taken aback. In that one word, this classic musical pulsates with relevancy.

    All Jews were forced to live in the Pale, which would now be Ukraine, Poland, and Crimea. In small impoverished villages, the infamous shtetls, Jews were discriminated, brutalized, and demeaned. Their threadbare lives were circumscribed; the communities forced into menial labor that kept them mired in bleakness; their daily existence threatened by the Czar’s racist pogroms.

    But the Jews had one thing – one faint hope – that buoyed them in the darkness: their Tradition. It’s the musical’s through line and constant source of conflict for Tevye the milkman (Adam B. Shapiro), as modern life constantly upends his authority. The Papa, as the bracing opening number tells us, “Who, day and night, must scramble for a living, Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers? And who has the right, as master of the house, To have the final word at home?”

    His rights are being chiseled away by his feisty daughters, his bossy wife Golde (Aviva Pressman), and electrifying new ideas from the outside world. Tradition solidifies the past. Change is the future, and Tevye’s beloved tradition is fading fast. Whether he is ready for it or not, the future will be forced upon him.

    Under the sure hand of director Aaron Brown, the spirited feet of choreographer Courtney D. Jones, the klezmer-inspired baton of maestro Jonathan Craft as he leads an 11-piece orchestra, the sprightly ensemble cast, the set pieces from Torsten Louis that glide in from the wings or descend from the flies, the bejeweled lighting from David Gipson, and Leah Smith’s patched woolens and babushkas, this beloved musical gleams with freshness and a radiant spirituality that isn’t often seen on today’s stage.

    It wasn’t seen on stage in the ’60s either, which is one major reason this most original musical was an instant hit and became the longest running theater piece in Broadway history up to that point. It’s easy to see why. It’s about family and the community as family. The show is stuffed with characters we respond to. In Stein’s masterful book, they come alive. In Harnick and Bock’s songs, with their chromatic wisps of liturgical chant and equal doses of Broadway bounce, the show melds into a cohesive whole. Fiddler portrays a forgotten little world now made universal.

    Shapiro breathes an easy charm, a bit softer than what we’ve seen in other interpretations, but his comedy timing is rich, and Tevye is chockablock with Borscht Belt shtick when he “negotiates” with God or spars with Golde and his older daughters, Tzeitel (Elliett Reinecke), Hodel (Paige Klase), and Chava (Cara DeGaish), who itch to get married to the ones they love, not the ones their Papa has arranged with prickly village matchmaker Yente (Shondra Marie). Tzeitel loves Motel the Tailor (Jared Guidry), Hodel falls for firebrand Perchik, and literary Chava sets her sights on Russian Christian Fyredka (Gabriel Mullen). All are in fine voice.

    The original show boasted Robbins’ iconic dances – the “Bottle Dance” sequence from Tzeitel and Motel’s wedding is one such set piece, and you can’t stage a proper Fiddler without it. Jones creates a fine facsimile for the four dancers who crouch, kick, and plunge with wine bottles atop their brimmed hoiche hats. The routine stops the show, as it should.

    My favorite scene has always been “Tevye’s Dream,” where he convinces Golde that Motel is the correct suitor, not the butcher Lazar Wolf (Michael C. Morrison). He conjures cuddly Grandma Tzeitel (Megan Haines) and Lazar’s vengeful former wife Fruma-Sarah (Mara Jill Herman) from behind and between their bed to predict doom if Tzeitel marries the butcher. “How can you allow your daughter to take my place/House, keys, clothes, pearls.” It’s comically spooky as Herman’s soprano goes into overdrive while the ensemble gyrates under Gipson’s eerie green lighting. It’s tremendously effective and so much fun.

    Fiddler’s relevance is more pronounced than ever. Its message of family tradition and a community that suffers through hardship yet perseveres speaks to all. The fiddler on the roof (Carolina Ornelas) is both symbol of their precarious existence and their indomitable faith. At the end as the villagers disperse after the Czar’s edict, the mysterious fiddler follows Tevye and his family on their journey to America. (Why he leaves his fiddle on the pile of discarded belongings seems the wrong message for the somewhat hopeful conclusion of the show. His music – Anatevka’s binding tie – must follow Tevye. He’s going to need it.)

    Fiddler is one of the great masterwork musicals. No question. Take your children. They will be uplifted. And they will thank you.

    Fiddler on the Roof continues through August 4 at 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays and Thursdays; 8 p.m. Fridays; 2:30 p.m. and 8 p.m. Saturdays; 2:30 p.m. Sundays at A.D. Players at the George Theater 5420 Westheimer. For more information, call 713-526-2721 or visit adplayers.org. $25-$75.

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    D. L. Groover

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