Tag: Cleveland Theater

For those of us who survived the fashion disasters of the 1970s—wide collars, gigantic lapels and such—it was a forgettable decade. But compared to the ’60s, when civil rights demonstrations and the assassinations of three of our most promising political leaders took place, things seemed calmer on the surface.

Still, there were many hopes and dreams being quietly crushed in urban areas, particularly in Black communities. And that is the time and place addressed by Jitney, the early landmark play by the renowned August Wilson.

In this sensational production, staged in the intimate confines of Beck Center’s studio theater, a cast of eight men and one woman brings the audience inside the office of a jitney, an unlicensed taxi service. That is where the owner Becker and his drivers flow in and out of the door when calls come in for short drives to the grocery store, doctor appointments, or whatever.

Each phone call concludes with the jitney employee telling the caller the color of the car to look for, since the drivers use their own cars for these neighborhood jaunts. And that is exactly how personalized this two-act play feels, with each character showing his or her true colors.

All their multiple entrances and exits are accompanied by the sprightly tingle of a bell attached to the door, joining the music of Wilson’s words. And under the superb direction of Jimmie Woody, these characterizations gleam so bright you might have to wear eclipse shades.

The leader of this ragtag crew is jitney owner Becker (Darryl Tatum) who serves as a strong social linchpin for his regular drivers. Turnbo (Bryant Lyles) is a good-natured noodge with a mean streak who delights in tormenting “Youngblood” (Aamar-Malik Culbreth), the hair-trigger young Vietnam vet who is trying to carve out an existence for himself, his girlfriend Rena (Thailand Hodge) and their baby.

Also picking up fares is frequently-drunk Fielding (a quietly hilarious Royce Ruffin) and Doub (Pete Robinson) a World War II vet who still harbors hope for himself and his community. But that kind of hope is in short supply since the block where their office sits is in peril, since it’s scheduled for demolition to make way for an urban renewal project.

There is also personal trauma afoot since Becker’s 39-year-old son “Booster” (Patrick D. Warner) is being released from a long prison stay for a violent crime. And the cast is rounded out by Shealy (Kym Williams) who runs his numbers operation through the jitney’s phone lines and Philmore (Greg White), a doorman who frequently uses the taxi service.

This talented ensemble performs with such smoothness and precision, the constant comings and goings are never distracting. By the second act, you look forward to who might be appearing next since each character is riveting in his or her own way.

There is plenty of laughter generated in Jitney and it all arises naturally from the portrayals, not relying on gags or punchlines. When Fielding lovingly sips from the bottle stowed in his coat pocket, and when Turnbo’s eyes glimmer as he sees another opportunity to torment Youngblood, the amusement is genuine and well-earned.

But more than that, the heft of Wilson’s play resides in its ability to capture the challenging yet often joyous lives of multiple generations of Black people in the Hill District of Pittsburgh as they deal with economic and social tumult. This is an early piece in Wilson’s ten-play cycle covering the 20th century in that Black community and it throbs with their genuine fears and hopes.

In short, this production is not to be missed.

Jitney
Through May 5 at the Beck Center, 17801 Detroit Ave., Lakewood, beckcenter.org, 216-521-2540.

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Some Broadway musicals become famous as the launching pads for certain performers, such as Carol Burnett when she starred in Once Upon a Mattress. But leading the pack in that category is the show Funny Girl, a promising but unspectacular show that happened to drop Barbra Streisand into the title role. The rest is history, as they say.

But what they don’t say is that, for any of who’ve been around for the entirety of Babs’ 60-year run of fabulousness, the signature songs in FG don’t sound right coming out of anyone else’s mouth. This is in part what tripped up the excellent actor Beanie Feldstein, who received quite a drubbing by critics and others when she opened the latest version on Broadway in 2022. You see, she didn’t act or sound like Streisand and that was the kiss of death until the role was taken over by the belter Lea Michele

In this touring version directed by Michael Mayer, the lead role is taken by Katerina McCrimmon, a young woman with powerfully prestigious pipes that do justice to songs such as “People” and “Don’t Rain on My Parade.” While she doesn’t look or sound like the original, she’s talented enough to allow one to focus on the show itself.

Even though McCrimmon is quite pretty and curvy, we suspend our disbelief as Fanny’s mom (an amusing Barbara Tirrell) and her elderly gal pals comment on Fanny’s lack of traditional beauty and her less than well-developed (ahem) assets—”They look like a couple of lentils.”

After an awkward first appearance on stage, Fanny soon gets the idea to make fun of herself. She is soon knocking them dead, either by herself or as the floundering fly in the ointment of large production numbers such as a lovely butterfly dance routine. McCrimmon does her best with these moments, but she ultimately doesn’t take enough risks to make her those bits actually take off comedically.

The material (score by Jule Styne, lyrics by Bob Merrill, book by Isobel Lennart) relates the story of Fanny Brice, the comedy star who carved her own unique niche in vaudeville, particularly in the Ziegfeld Follies in the mid-1930s. The structure of the play echoes the essence of vaudeville with a scenic design heavy on drops while lush costuming by Susan Hilferty provides the feel of time and place. There are also pauses now and then for “specialty acts” such as a couple tap dance numbers executed nicely by Izaiah Montaque Harris as Eddie Ryan, Fanny’s loyal friend.

Amidst all her succcess, the only upset in Fanny’s life seems to be her love affair with Nicky Arnstein, the smokin’ hot “producer” who is actually a convicted criminal with a bigger love for booze, gambling and con games. As Nicky, Stephen Mark Lucas doesn’t really convey the danger inherent in this character, mostly standing off to one side and glowering. He has a pleasant singing voice, but when he’s called upon to dance he looks a bit confused, like a “Dancing with the Stars” contestant who missed a couple rehearsals.

One of the reasons Funny Girl made such an impact when it opened in 1964 is that the story of Fanny is the story of Barbra—each a young woman who soared to the top of the entertainment world and stayed there far beyond what anyone might have imagined. It is also the story of all of us, those in the audience who bask in their substantial talents. And this touring show at Playhouse Square provides a glimpse of what that star power looked like about a century ago.

Funny Girl
Through March 10 at Playhouse Square, Connor Palace Theater, 1615 Euclid Ave., playhousesquare.org, 216-241-6000.

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To begin with, let’s affirm that if you attend The Play That Goes Wrong, now at the Cleveland Play House, you will be surrounded with laughter for most of the play’s 150-minute run time. The question is: How much of that laughter will be coming from you?

This play-within-a-play focuses on opening night at the so-called Cornley Drama Society and their production of “The Murder at Haversham Manor,” a creaky 1920s-era whodunit. But as the title of the larger play promises, everything goes wrong with the set, the actors, the script, and even a hapless audience member who is dragged into the proceedings.

The performers in this CPH endeavor energetically go about the business of having their motley mansion fall to pieces around themselves as they gamely try to soldier on through stuck doors, falling picture frames, intra-cast tensions, and even more catastrophic collapses.

Eventually as this two-act enterprise continues, it becomes apparent that the actors themselves are playing second fiddle to the set construction itself. This is illustrated right at the start when an audience member is invited on stage to help with a troublesome mantel piece. The laughter in that pre-show bit is just as hearty as the laughter later on, which tells you something.

And yes, there is plenty of laughter. I was sitting next to several young kids from one family and they were hooting with delight at every bopped head, stepped-upon fingers and other bits of physical humor nabbed from sources such as Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd and The Three Stooges.

This rough-hewn comedy concoction was written by a trio of fellows—Henry Lewis, Henry Shields and Jonathan Sayer—and is a poor man’s version of the iconic “Noises Off” by Michael Frayn. In Frayn’s sublime “theater disaster” farce, the audience is presented with a touring theatrical company performing the first act of a run-of-the-mill mystery that is presented three times: First in a tech rehearsal, second at a matinée performance, and third at an exhausted performance ten weeks later. It is hilarious since you know how it’s supposed to look when done without glitches.

However in TPTGW, the playwrights have dispensed with the set up and cut to the carnage, which is a bit refreshing but largely ineffective in terms of true farce. The stripped-down play-within-a-play can’t truly blossom without more information about what the cast is actually trying to accomplish.

For instance, the audience is mystified when, at one point, the actors keep repeating their lines (it’s because one actor can’t remember his next line). But we don’t know that so the bit flounders, as do several others. But not to worry, there will soon be something falling off a wall or somebody getting clocked on the noggin so the laffs can resume apace.

In this review, we will dispense with the traditional recognition of specific actor performances. Indeed, the cast itself seems to sense they are of secondary importance. And bless their hearts, they try hard (in some cases way too hard) in an attempt to compete with this cavalcade of Home Depot-inspired lumber and hardware catastrophes. But their thespian efforts pale in comparison to those of scenic designer Czerton Lim, technical director Bill Langenhop, stage carpenter Emma Sherban, and fight and stunt director Jason Paul Tate.

As director Melissa Rain Anderson says in her program note, “…it’s important to remember that these characters are really trying to put on a genuine mystery for you.” And she is absolutely right, that is what they should do. Unfortunately, Anderson does not direct her actors in that manner. And without that connection to reality, all the slapstick shtick in the world won’t make up for an ounce of genuine wit.

In sum, The Play That Goes Wrong will make many in the audience laugh till their sides ache, while others may feel like they’ve attended a limply amusing theatrical mugging.

The Play That Goes Wrong
Through March 3 at the Cleveland Play House, Playhouse Square, Allen Theatre, 1407 Euclid Ave., clevelandplayhouse.com, 216-241-6000.

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It would be foolish to suggest that anyone should see the current show at Great Lakes Theater, Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express, simply so they can experience the scenic and lighting design by Rick Martin. After all, that would minimize the substantial contributions made to this production by the director, actors, other designers, and the script—a Ken Ludwig adaptation of Agatha Christie’s mystery that first appeared almost a century ago.

But once the show curtain is removed to reveal the titular train, you’re on board for a visual treat as the choo-choo’s skeletal structure is rotated back and forth on a turntable to focus on different train compartments. This allows us to see through “doors” and “walls” to view the frequent movement of the people, er, suspects as they flounce and swan their way in and out of the sightline of the gimlet-eyed super detective Hercule Poirot, who just happens to be on the train heading back to England for a rest after a business a stop in Syria.

At one moment early on, there is a gorgeous tableau where snow is falling from above, with the train illuminated by a series of interior pole lights while fog swells up from below. It’s an image I’d like to frame and hang on a wall. But the greatest compliment that can be paid to Martin’s set is that it serves to energize and amplify the many scenes in this show that could easily become bogged down in exposition and repetition.

Major credit also goes to director Charles Fee as he keeps his cast on point as they pick up their cues as fast as they dispense their clues. This helps immensely since the plot is as complicated as a web spun by a drunk spider, even in this trimmed down version. For those who haven’t found time in the last 90 years to encounter M/OE, it’s a murder mystery involving two events: a tragic killing of a small child years before (based on the Lindbergh baby kidnapping) and in present time the fileting of one of the passengers on the train.

The latter murder happens on the Orient Express, the famous passenger train that put the luxe in luxurious with rosewood and marble interiors, velvet settees, vaulted ceilings, and flower lamps signed by Lalique. In short, it ain’t no Rapid Transit line.

Once the gory stabbing of the victim is discovered, while the train itself is snowbound, Poirot dispenses with his vacation plans and sets about to discover the culprit. Some elegant one-liners are tossed into the mix—at one point a woman that her recently deceased husband “had no talent for longevity”—as the age-old process of detective interrogating suspects flows along at a sprightly pace.

Leading this effort is David Anthony Smith as Poirot, a charming pain-in-the-ass as he orders everyone about including the train’s manager Monsieur Bouc, the train crew, and the other passengers. Smith is one of those performers who can enter a seemingly bland sentence and make it sparkle simply from razor-like timing, elocution and enunciation.

He is well-supported by a large cast of actors portraying would-be felons, including Jillian Kates in the showy role of Helen Hubbard, the ugly American who cares not to hide her interest in men, booze and a good time. As Bouc, who acts as Poirot’s sounding board, Jeffrey C. Hawking gets more laughs than you’d expect). Elegant Countess Andrenyi (Angela Utrera) cuts a fine figure and manages to light a fire under Poirot’s somewhat lukewarm libido. And as Princess Dragomiro and her personal attendant Greta Ohlssom, Eva Weiglat Barnes and Jodi Dominick add some bonus mystery to the proceedings.

Of course, the ending is what makes M/OE so enduring, as it tosses the concepts of punishment and justice into a cocked (and oh-so-decorous) hat. After all the splendid speeches and visual delights, it will leave you to mull the appropriateness of the outcome yourself. And that’s a tasty ending to a luscious theatrical package.

Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express
Through March 3 at Great Lakes Theater, Hanna Theatre, Playhouse Square, 2067 E. 14th Street, 216-241-6000, greatlakestheater.org.

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It’s always exciting to see an original play hit a local stage, especially when it’s written by a person raised in the Northeast Ohio theater community. With Alter by Tania Benites, Cleveland Public Theatre and Teatro Publico de Cleveland join forces to present a work that, while flawed, has a neat twist in the storytelling that captures your imagination.

Maria (Andrea de la Fuente) is a young woman working a telemarketing desk at a company called KaPow! But she has bigger ambitions, so she keeps reading self-help books in a search for her “better” self. Her current book is enacted by a narrator (Alisha Caraballo) who pops up now and then to announce a new chapter along with a couple more tidbits of motivational advice.

The book works so well Maria actually begins seeing her new self, in the form of a Figure (Rajah Morales) who looks like her and is always at the ready to keep Maria going in the most successful direction. But as time passes, and Maria begins to grow as a person, her success is overwhelmed by other changes in her personality.

As Maria deals with her Mom (Sylka Edmonson), the office pest Trisha (Mónica A. Cerpa Zúñiga), and the office stud Steve (Lionel Morales), we see how she learns to handle different vexing relationships and come out ahead. This is particularly true regarding her interactions with her creepy boss Craig (David L. Munnell), who is always looming over her shoulder and giving her wall posters with peppy, motivational sayings—yes, including the “Hang In There!” cat .

But eventually, the Figure that has been providing all the help for Maria begins to change, morphing from a passive assistant to a more aggressive participant in Maria’s life. This change makes the play suddenly more fascinating, since we have all witnessed how some people can change remarkably fast based on new input.

This surreal turn opens up many script avenues to pursue, but the play is hampered by the self-help book structure which feels like scaffolding that could be easily eliminated. Without the repeated and predictable appearances by the narrator, which interrupt the flow of the show, playwright Benites would have more room to use her wit and insight to develop a more satisfying conflict and conclusion among her characters, including the “imaginary” one.

While the performance is slowed by too many scenes that are performed without sufficient drive from director Kari Barclay, there are several bright spots. As Maria, de la Fuente captures the youthful hopes of this woman who only wants to improve herself, and Morales is both friendly and frightening as the Figure. It’s just a shame there aren’t more scenes between them.

Most of the humor is provided by Munnell, who turns Craig into a walking amalgam of the drama queen actors that were popular in comedy films of the 1930s. His limp-wristed, over-the-top channeling of actors such as Franklin Pangborn and Clifton Webb adds a jolt of fun whenever he’s on stage.

This full production, performed in English with Spanish supertitles, is a great next step for Teatro Publico de Cleveland (TPC). Launched by Cleveland Public Theatre ten years ago, TPC is a collective of Latino theatre artists who wish to preserve and promote the cultures of Cleveland Latinos.

Whatever the future of Alter looks like, Tania Benites is definitely a playwright to watch for. And we eagerly anticipate the next artistic steps taken by the CPT/TPC partnership.

Alter
Through February 24 at Cleveland Public Theatre, 6415 Detroit Avenue, cptonline.org, 216-631-2727.

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