Dial M for Murder

When the lights go up on Sacramento Theatre Company’s wonderful production of Frederick Knott’s “Dial M for Murder,” the first thing the audience notices is not the actors on the stage, but the gorgeous set itself.

This is Mims Mattair’s second set design for STC and it is stunning. It is the living room of the affluent couple, Tony Wendice (Matt K. Miller) and his wife Margot (Jackie Vanderbeck) in 1950s London. The apartment’s lush red walls with various embellishments and tchotchkes on the shelves are just beautiful.

But that’s just the start of the delicious things to come in this three-act classic play. Many may remember the 1954 Hitchcock movie with Ray Milland, Grace Kelly and Robert Cummings. It was a perfect vehicle for Hitchcock — a foolproof murder plot that somehow isn’t quite foolproof after all.

Mystery writer Max Halliday (Barry Hubbard) explains that there are five reasons why murders are committed: fear, jealousy, greed, vengeance and romance.

For former professional tennis player Tony Wendice, four out of five was enough to decide to hatch an elaborate plot to kill his wealthy wife, whom he has discovered has been cheating on him with Halliday. The wife would be out of the way and Tony would inherit her fortune.

After sending Margot and Halliday out for a night on the town, Tony makes arrangements to meet with Captain Lesgate, aka C.A. Swann (Scott Divine), an old classmate and petty criminal, whom Tony has been stalking for a long time, in order to get incriminating evidence with which he can blackmail the man into doing the murder.

It’s the perfect crime. Tony has thought of everything. Everything, in fact, except Margot surviving the attempted murder and, in the process, killing her attacker.

The investigation part of the story is right out of the 1970s detective series, “Columbo,” with Inspector Hubbard in a rumpled trench coat, always having “just one more question” to ask of Tony, who is forever offering possible answers for unanswered questions, unaware that he may be digging his own grave by doing so.

Matt Miller is at the top of his game (again) as the seemingly affable husband, with the sneering malevolence behind the friendly grin. There is a frenetic energy as he thinks on his feet when his plans go awry and an evil cackle when unexpected twists seem to be making his plan work more beautifully than even he imagined.

Jackie Vanderbeck plays the intimidated wife beautifully. Weighted down by guilt because of her earlier indiscretion, she unquestioningly follows Tony’s orders, even when they seem silly. She was somewhat sabotaged by an Act 1 dress that was just … silly, with a huge ruffle outlining the front of it (fortunately, her subsequent costumes were lovely). When the plot takes an unexpected turn, she is very flustered and displays her confused fragility well.

As for Max Halliday, Margot’s former lover, Hubbard plays him as an open, friendly American, who, at the start of the play, has accepted that his relationship with Margot is over and hopes they can now be friends. Max creates a scenario for Tony to save Margot that is closer to reality than he realizes.

Gary Alan Wright is just great as Inspector Hubbard, who never accepts the police version of who killed Captain Lesgate and keeps sleuthing even after the trial has concluded. He’s the investigator you’d like to have on your side.

Scott Divine as the luckless bungling would-be assassin has a small role, but he makes the most of it, as he slowly realizes how Tony has been playing him for months and how he has been backed into a corner from which he cannot escape.

Making his on-stage debut, Aaron Hitchcock is the policeman, Thompson, whose very brief appearances delight the audience.

“Dial M for Murder” is a great thriller. It’s not a mystery because we know exactly what happens, but watching how the story plays out is the fun of it all. Kudos to director Greg Alexander for commanding a tight ship and creating such an enjoyable evening — even if it does last three hours!

Anon(ymous)

The rudeness of the Veterans' Memorial Theater audience at opening night's performance of Acme Theatre Company's 'Anon(ymous)' distracted from the quality of the production.

Many in the audience had obviously come to see their friends and laughed loudly in many parts of the drama. The students sitting in the row in front of me used their electronic gadgets to check e-mail, check Facebook statuses and write messages throughout the entire one-act performance. Shame on them.

But other than that, the performances of this rather odd play, directed by Emily Henderson and Maddy Ryen, were quite good. I was especially pleased to note that for the first time in a long time, I had no complaints about projection in any of the actors. Even from the back row, I could clearly hear every single word.

This contemporary production by award-winning California playwright Naomi Iizuka was inspired by Homer's 'Odyssey' and tells the story of Anon, separated from his mother while fleeing his war-torn homeland.

After a boat wreck, he is swept ashore on the margins of America and embarks on an epic journey to find a place he can call home.

It is a gritty, off-the-wall adaptation of 'The Odyssey,' which reframes 'the journey home' within the refugee experience and present-day immigration in the United States. This becomes quite clear in the striking opening scene where Anon, who calls himself 'Nobody' (Nick Mead) stands in a pool of light and begins to tell his story ('Where I come from there was a war that lasted so long people forgot what they were fighting for...')

Behind him, behind sheer curtains, we see silhouettes of other people telling their own stories.

'Where I come from is high up in the mountains and the sound of thunder is so loud it sounds like the end of the world.'

'Where I come from is the edge of an ocean so blue you can see straight to the bottom...'

'Where I come from giant birds circle overhead, so many you can't count them...'

Set designer Will Delacorte deserves high praise for the beautiful tableau.

From Dumpster diving, to talking with ghosts, to fighting a one-eyed butcher (reminiscent of the man-eating Cyclops in 'The Odyssey'), Anon ricochets from one chaotic adventure to the next. At the heart of his quest is his mother Nemasani (Gigi Gilbert-Iglesrud), the one person whom he loves. The two became separated attempting to escape the war in their country by leaving on a ship, which ultimately sank. Unbeknownst to each, both survived and Anon's search for 'home' has lasted for more than 20 years.

In the meantime, his mother has been working in the sweat shop of Mr. Mackus (Antonio deLoera-Brust) who is determined to marry her, against her wishes.

In his travels, Anon meets a variety of people like Calista (Sam Ramos), a rather empty-headed spoiled girl whose father owns the island on which Anon is washed up, so she feels she owns him and needs him to stay and be her personal plaything.

There is the lovely Pascal (Alix Miller), who disappears in a most distressful manner.

Jon Dycaico and Amber Bianchi are Senator Laius and his wife, who visit the sweat shop and have a rather condescending chat with Nemasani (with whom they have a surprising secret in common).

Dycaico also appears as the evil Mr. Zyclo while Roxanne McNally does a fine job of strutting about as Zyclo's pet bird.

Tomas Eredi is memorable for his short performance as Strygal, the truck driver.

Dashiell Menard is quite convincing as the blind man, Ali, while Margaret Starbuck and Kashmir Kravitz play his wife and daughter, respectively.

Others in the cast include Holly Buhlman as the goddess Naja, Katy Zaragoza-Smith, Emma Kurtz, Casey Marr and Neal Rock. Everyone gives a solid performance.

Although the story of Odysseus is the epic journey of a single hero, 'Anon(ymous)' incorporates stories of anonymous, marginalized people - the individuals Anon meets along the way who are unable tell their own stories.

Despite their voicelessness, the aptly named Anon becomes a mouthpiece for their anonymity through his remembrance of their experiences.

Someone Who'll Watch Over Me

'An American, an Irishman and a Brit get locked in a prison...'

No, it's not the start of some corny joke, but the premise of director Stephanie Gularte's production of Frank McGuinness' gripping play, 'Someone Who'll Watch Over Me,' which continues through April 25 at Old Sacramento's Capital Stage theater.

In the late 1980s, Brian Keenan, John McCarthy and Terry Waite were taken hostage in Beirut. They were held, together or separately, for more than four years. 'Someone Who'll Watch Over Me' is McGuinness' fictionalized version of these events, based on interviews with Keenan after his release.

While McGuinness might have been tempted to get maudlin, or to deliver some message about relations with the Middle East, none of that is present in this play. Instead, it simply shows what happens when three men are locked together in a windowless cell, their legs chained to the wall, with nothing to do, day in and day out.

How do they survive the sheer boredom of incarceration? ('The boredom, the boredom, the bloody boredom!')

And how does the playwright keep the audience from being bored, as well?

Given the powerful cast in this Capital Stage production, boredom isn't an issue.

Bay Area actor Michael Wiles plays Adam, the American doctor, who was captured first and spent his first few months alone. He's determined to stay strong, to keep his mind alert. He reads the Bible and the Koran, the only books permitted in the cell.

Wiles must lose a pound or two with each performance, with his often frantic exercise routines, pulling himself up on an overhead bar and doing sit-ups.

K. Scott Coopwood plays Edward, the Irishman who joins Adam. As the play opens, the two men have been in the cell together for two months, and have formed a friendship. They try to never give their captors the satisfaction of knowing they're being broken by their confinement, and they support each another at times of despair.

'You mustn't let them hear you cry. They're listening to you, as you speak. They want you to weep. Don't ever do that in here. I'm warning you, don't weep. That's what they want. So don't cry. Laugh. Do you hear me? Laugh.'

Coopwood, who went on a starvation diet and lost a lot of weight for this play, has an infectious electricity to his performance. He has the Irish personality down to a 'T,' and he keeps the audience engaged with his flashing eyes and impish grin. He's loud, larger than life, reacts emotionally and is as quick with his temper as he is with a charade, to pass the time.

Both men are afraid, but exhibit bravado to keep this concealed.

The mix is augmented by Michael - Matt K. Miller, making his Capital Stage debut - a British scholar who was abducted while going to the market to buy pears, for a flan he wanted to prepare for some dinner guests. Michael is mild-mannered, highly repressed and terrified, as he begins to understand the gravity of his situation.

He's afraid of his unseen captors, and he's afraid of his cellmates. He worries about his mother, at home in England.

Michael undergoes the greatest metamorphosis, as he gradually settles into life in the prison. He doesn't understand the rough humor. He wants to belong, but doesn't know how. Under Miller's skillful hands, Michael begins to adapt to his environment, to shed some of his inhibitions and join in with the antics of the other two.

It's a brilliant performance.

To keep despair and insanity at bay, the men imagine and enact wild movies they might make, lethal cocktails they might drink to excess, provocative letters they might write. They fly away - mentally, at least - by singing 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.' In a standout sequence, they re-enact Virginia Wade's 1977 victory at Wimbledon.

If any criticism can be levied at this production, it concerns the projection used in the second act, to enhance a fantasy scene. Up to that moment, we've been living with these three men, in their fantasy world; the projection is an unnecessary and distracting intrusion. We don't need a 'crutch' to show where the men are, and what they are pretending to be doing.

'Someone Who'll Watch Over Me' is a powerful production, both tragic and often hilarious. McGuinness' drama gives audiences a chance to explore the shared humanity of men from diverse backgrounds, who struggle against tremendous adversity.

And are determined to triumph over it.

Fiction

Five minutes or so into Steven Dietz's 'Fiction,' continuing through Feb. 28 at Old Sacramento's Delta King Theater, you'll likely check the program to make sure this isn't a David Mamet play.

Dietz's work is so wordy, literate and rapid-fire that it's easy to confuse the two playwrights.

Two characters - Michael (Eric Wheeler) and Linda (Janis Stevens) - open Dietz's play, as they sit at a Paris café and having a lively debate. They speak with the familiarity of long-time friends. They're so caught up in the rhetoric that they've lost sight of the point of the argument, which they eventually remember is a debate concerning the greatest rock 'n' roll performance ever.

Michael insists it was John Lennon's 'Twist and Shout,' while Linda holds out for Janis Joplin's 'Piece of My Heart.'

As the heated discussion continues, we learn that these two people actually are chance acquaintances, meeting for the first time: an encounter that has escalated into easy familiarity. And as easy familiarity may do, the friendship ultimately escalates into marriage.

Time passes.

Both are writers. Linda, who teaches literary fiction, is the author of one critically acclaimed novel, presumably based on her rape in South Africa. Michael is a more critically successful novelist. Both also are prolific journal writers, with boxes of old journals stored away. These journals begin to unravel their otherwise happy 20-year marriage.

Linda is diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer and given a matter of weeks to live. She asks Michael to read her journals after her death, explaining 'It's ludicrous ... not to mention vain ... to think that they aren't real, that I'm not real unless someone reads them.'

But in exchange for allowing Michael to read her journals, she demands to read his as well.

The resultant chaos, as they explore each other's deepest thoughts, should make people stop and think about how much they really want to know about the significant people in their lives. Is keeping the boundaries of secret thoughts a better thing?

Michael wrote many of his journal entries while living in the same writer's colony where Linda wrote her own novel; he details an extramarital affair with Abby (Stephanie Gularte), a significant person in Linda's life as well, who runs the colony.

But are Michael's amorous adventures with Abby authentic ... or has he embellished them?

As the play - and the reading of the journals - progresses, the action moves forward and backward in time, between real and imagined events.

All three veteran Capital Stage actors contribute excellent performances. Wheeler's winning delivery gives his character charm; Stevens' vulnerability is balanced against her natural toughness; and Gularte superbly displays a languid sexuality.

Director Peter Mohrmann keeps the tone nicely balanced, playing off the awkward emotional tension and intellectual wit.

While listening to the contents of the journals, audience members must decide whether to believe these accounts of the past, as the narrators describe them. This tension between trust and suspicion - between fact and fiction - is the heart of the drama.

Rose Colored Glass

The Woodland Opera House's current production of 'Rose Colored Glass' by Janice Goldberg and Woodland-born playwright Susan Bigelow (directed by Jeff Kean) is a show that you want to take to your heart. It's the story of how the plight of an 11-year-old Jewish boy from Austria dissolves the long-time animosity of two women in Chicago in 1938 as they join together to work to find him safe passage from Europe and a home in the United States.

The play has heart, it has pathos, it has three excellent actors. What it lacks is, sadly, a better script. At times it seems overly long. It's not sure whether it's a history lesson or a soap opera. It's not a bad play. It's a play worth seeing. But its problems definitely lie primarily with the script.

Lady O'Riley (Cheri Douglas) runs an Irish pub in Chicago. She's a widow and has run the pub ever since her husband's death. She is also raising her 13-year-old granddaughter Peg (Emily Jo Seminoff), whose ne'er-do-well father abandoned the child on his mother's doorstep after the death of his wife.

Across the alley from the back of O'Riley's pub is the delicatessen of Rose Fleishman (Georgann Wallace). Rose is also a widow, originally from Austria, who left family behind when she and her husband came to the United States.

The two women have never spoken, and their animosity toward each other and their distrust of one another seems strange, but they are both firmly rooted in their own cultures and not willing to interact with someone who seems so 'foreign,' even though their circumstances are so similar.

Young Peg, who acts as the narrator of the piece, is the eternal cock-eyed optimist, determined to get the two women to make friends. She spends a lot of time in Fleishman's delicatessen and obviously has a warm, loving friendship with Rose.

The ultimate breaking down of the barriers between the two women comes, slowly, after Rose receives letters from her sister in Austria, hinting at the problems that Jews are beginning to have. It is a time in this country where there is great apathy on the part of Americans and articles hinting at persecution of Jews are relegated to the back pages of the newspapers.

When Rose receives a disturbing letter from her sister, Peg forces her grandmother to get involved. Slowly the two women strike up a friendship.

The play takes Rose through the maddening world of red tape and closed doors and the world of the bureaucratic 'no.' At one point she gives up completely and has to be convinced by her new friend that miracles still happen. Just when she has all but given up, help comes from a most unlikely source.

Between the brief vignettes over time, Peg steps into the alley to give the audience an explanation or an update. Often these discourses are backed by concentration camp photos or news clips running on the back wall.

I really wanted to like this play, but there were many problems. The parallel story of Lady's son, for example, while perhaps intended as a plot device to bring a degree of commonality to the situation of the two women, was merely distracting, especially since it went nowhere.

Rose's anger as she gives up on this nephew she has tried so hard to save seems unrealistic, when it is her neighbor who is adamant that the woman keep trying to bring the boy to safety.

Lady's refusal to allow Peg to skip school to accompany the women to New York when it seems that all their work is going to come to fruition is completely unbelievable.

There is no difficulty with the three talented actresses. Emily Jo Seminoff has blossomed into an accomplished actress and is enchanting as the ever-positive Peg.

Cheri Douglas is, according to her biography, 'making her debut in professional theater.' If this is her debut, it holds the promise of a wonderful career, as she beautifully walked that tightrope between stubborn Irish woman and warm-hearted friend.

Georgann Wallace, veteran of several Woodland Opera House productions, gives an emotional performance as Rose and makes the audience feel her anguish and her frustration over the plight of her family.

After World War II, the cry became 'never again!' Never again would the world sit back and do nothing while millions of people were being slaughtered. In an age where that is precisely what is happening in places like Darfur and Rwanda, 'Rose Colored Glass' is an important reminder of the human faces behind genocide. I just wish the script had been better crafted.

American Buffalo

David Mamet can be exhausting.

Character development in his plays comes from lengthy dialogue delivered rapid-fire, and everything must be crisp and clear for it all to work.

Thanks to director Janis Stevens and outstanding performances by Capital Stage co-founders Peter Mohrmann and Jonathan Rhys Williams, and newcomer Joseph Baldridge, the current production of Mamet's breakthrough 1977 tragicomedy, 'American Buffalo,' works beautifully.

The story revolves around three inept, small-time crooks planning that one big heist: the score that will make their lives better. The plan grows out of the purchase of an American buffalo nickel, and the fantasy these three guys build around the man who purchased it.

In reality, though, this is a study in ineptitude.

Donny Dubrow (Mohrmann) runs Don's Resale Shop, a 1970s Chicago junk shop. The set is beautifully designed and dressed by Williams and Karyn Carl.

As played by Mohrmann, Donny is the 'heart' of the piece. He has taken young Bobby (Baldridge), a recovering drug addict, under his wing, and is teaching him about loyalty and the ethics of the streets:

'Well, Bob, I'm sorry,' Don says, 'but this isn't good enough. If you want to do business ... if we got a business deal, it isn't good enough. I want you to remember this.'

'I do,' Bobby insists.

'Yeah,' Don answers, 'now ... but later, what?'

He pauses.

'Just one thing, Bob. Action counts.'

Another pause.

'Action talks, and b------t walks.'

Donny has decided that the guy who paid $90 for an old nickel must be a coin collector, and therefore must have a valuable coin collection, and that his home could be robbed when he isn't present.

Bobby is sent to watch where the guy goes: to get a feel for when he is and isn't home. The young boy is eager to please, but can't seem to do anything right. He obviously worships Donny, but seems a constant disappointment. Baldridge capably portrays a man not that long into recovery.

Williams gives a sizzling performance as Teach, the Art Carney to Mohrmann's Jackie Gleason. Teach is a bundle of nervous energy: He can't sit still for a moment, and is filled with ideas for how to pull off the perfect heist. Teach is a born loser, but he'll never perceive that all his ideas are doomed to failure.

Williams' costume literally makes the man (kudos to costumer designer Rebecca Redmond). He's a study in polyester and leather: a real street-guy aiming for flashy, but merely looking cheap.

We can't help liking Donny, Teach and Bobby, despite their obviously despicable characteristics, because all three are devoted to each other; we're therefore drawn into their offbeat friendship. The incident that brings the play to its conclusion demonstrates how each man is affected by this unspoken affection for the others.

While 'American Buffalo' deals with the planning of dark deeds, much humor exists in the interactions of the three characters. The humor derives from the shape and form of the language, almost as much as their actual dialogue. Without the snap, crackle and pop demonstrated by these three actors, this might be a quite different play.

During a question and answer session that followed our performance, Stevens pointed out the timeliness of 'American Buffalo.' This play deals with some very small-time crooks, but at a different time and in a better setting, their plans to rip off a customer could just as easily be a conversation taking place in the board room of AIG.

In fact, the play debuted shortly after the Watergate scandal broke, during which we learned how high-level officials conspired to hold back information from the American public. Same story, different setting.

'American Buffalo' is a Mamet classic, and this outstanding production is well worth seeing.

Gem of the Ocean

Peggy Shannon, artistic director of the Sacramento Theatre Company, has long had a dream.

She has dreamed of giving Sacramento-area patrons the chance to experience playwright August Wilson's groundbreaking 10-play series, 'The Pittsburgh Cycle,' which chronicles the tragedies and aspirations of African-Americans, decade by decade, through the 20th century.

Shannon finally is seeing her dream come to life: STC has made a commitment to produce the plays, one each year, beginning with 'Gem of the Ocean.' Although this work was written near the end of Wilson's life, it chronologically marks the beginning of the series; 'Gem of the Ocean' is set in 1904, against the legacy of emancipation.

Director Darryl V. Jones' powerful production features stellar performances by everybody in the seven- member cast.

Slavery looms large in this work. Each of the characters has either come up from slavery or is experiencing some sort of personal bondage that must be dealt with, whether physically or spiritually. The lessons learned during the course of the play will set each character on a path of freedom, in one direction or another.

Aunt Ester Tyler (Lisa Lacy), said to be 285 years old, is the 'griot' of the piece: the keeper of the oral history. The play is set at her home at 1839 Wylie Ave. - significant because 1839 was the year of the slave revolt on the Cuban schooner Amistad - a house of peace where it's said that she has the power to 'wash souls.'

Lacy gives a memorable performance, as she brings Ester's strength and heart to the stage. The actress does her best work in Act 2, and her anguish at a tragic moment is heartbreaking.

This home becomes a refuge for Citizen Barlow (Hosea L. Simmons), a tormented man desperate for Aunt Ester's assistance in starting a new life.

Citizen Barlow has left the oppressive racism of Alabama, but can find no peace in his new home because of guilt over his role in the suicide of a fellow worker.

Barlow's spiritual journey to the 'City of Bones' at the 'center of the world' - built from the bones of slaves who did not survive the journey from Africa to the new world - is key to this play; it puts him in the position of embracing the opportunity to set out on a new life when it comes along, in order to find his true destiny.

Simmons likewise gives a powerful performance, particular during his transformation, as he comes to term with his past life and takes up the mantle of responsibility for the future.

Eli (James Wheatley), Aunt Ester's caretaker, takes seriously his responsibility to maintain the house as 'peaceable.' In the days of slavery, Eli helped many slaves to freedom.

He's now busily constructing a stone wall to keep the house safe.

Solly Two Kings (Donald Lacy), who in many ways seems the heart of this play, is an ex-slave who worked with Eli on the Underground Railroad. Solly now makes a living gathering 'pure' (dog droppings), to be used for manure. His walking stick always is with him; it bears the notches carved for each slave he safely guided to freedom in Canada.

Solly and Aunt Ester obviously have deep feelings for one another.

Black Mary (C. Kelly Wright), who works as a housekeeper for Aunt Ester, undergoes her own personal transformation during the trip to the 'City of Bones.'

Mary's brother, Caesar Wilkes (Hansford Prince), is the villain of the piece: He attempts to uphold the white man's law, no matter how adversely it affects those around him.

Matt K. Miller plays Rutherford Selig, a Jewish peddler and an essential character: regarded with suspicion by some, but invaluable for passing along messages and warnings to the family.

'Gem of the Ocean' is an auspicious beginning for the 10-year cycle of Wilson plays. It's a powerful work - and a deeply moving local production - that will bring a face to African American history.

First Person Shooter

People's actions have consequences, even if the consequences are far removed from the original intent of the behavior.

Or can we really make that assumption?

Capital Stage kicks off its fourth season with the Sacramento premiere of Aaron Loeb's highly praised new play, 'First Person Shooter,' helmed by Bay Area director Molly Aaronson-Gelb.

The play asks a relevant contemporary question: 'In a world where violence has become a game, who is responsible when the violence becomes all too real?' Loeb's drama received its world premiere in 2007 at the San Francisco Playhouse, and was named one of the season's top 10 plays by both the San Francisco Chronicle and the Oakland Tribune; in April, the Bay Area Critics Circle named 'First Person Shooter' the best original script of the 2007-08 theater season.

The Capital Stage production stars Kerry Davis (Sam Misner), Tommy Damotta (Cole Alexander Smith) and Wilson Fong (Ed Lee) as Wunderkinder who've turned game-playing into a profitable business; they now run JetPack Games, a start-up video game company, where the hottest, most violent game on the market has brought instant success to the young tech geniuses.

Kerry is a loner, socially inept but a brilliant computer programmer, whose life revolves around the world he has created on his screen. As Loeb's play begins, Kerry is consumed with making the shootings in his game look ever more real:

'The objects now respond to force vectors with absolute physical accuracy,' he notes. 'It makes the death animations so much more life-like. Actually ... and this is the part that rules ... they aren't even animations ... the game is able to physically model where the body should fly, how all the limbs should flop around, all in real time.'

Real life intrudes on Kerry's fantasy world when two boys stage a Columbine-style attack on a school, gunning down a number of their classmates and then themselves. They leave behind a taped message thanking JetPack for its video game, and explaining that they rehearsed their massacre for months on the game's custom map, before carrying it out.

An ambulance-chasing lawyer (Lee, in a dual role) gathers the parents of the slain students, and files a lawsuit against JetPack for its role in the tragedy. All sides of the issue subsequently collide.

Strong performances control this powerful play. Misner's Kerry is a Bill Gates-like computer geek: a likable fellow dealing with his own personal tragedy, who is forced to confront a situation in which he may unwittingly have played a personal role.

Adrian Roberts gives a powerful, moving performance as Daniel Jamison, one of the slain boys' grieving father, who finds himself manipulated by the system. Both Kerry and Jamison come to see each other as the enemy, and Roberts' final scene with Misner is heartbreaking.

Karyn Casl gives a sensitive performance as Jamison's wife, the boy's stepmother.

Smith is a live wire, playing dual roles as the masked shooter and also Tommy, JetPack's mercurial public relations manager. Smith's energy builds throughout the play, and fuels an outstanding performance.

Megan Pearl Smith is reminiscent of Joan Cusack as Tamar, JetPack's wisecracking managing director.

The action takes place in several venues; set designer Jonathan Williams handles this nicely on the small stage, by using an abstract back and side wall that consist of various sizes of blocks, on which projections and flashing 'loading' messages indicate the passage of time.

Loeb takes no obvious stance on either side of the debate, but leaves audience members to examine their own feelings on what, if any, responsibility belongs to gamers, in the wake of such tragic situations.

'First Person Shooter' is a hard-hitting drama, and is certain to promote discussion among audience members long after they leave the theater.

A Number

Caryl Churchill’s “A Number,” now at Capitol Stage in Sacramento has been called the first 21st Century play, for, indeed, it deals with subjects that at one time seemed a part of science fiction, and now are at least possible, if on the distant horizon.

The characters are “Father” (Loren Taylor) and “Son” (Gillen Morrison) and the subject is human cloning, a subject which asks many questions, not the least of which is – who are we, really? Are we our DNA? Are we the products of our upbringing? And the ever popular “Nature vs. nurture?”

Son has just discovered that he has been cloned. That there are “a number” of clones and he realizes that he doesn’t know whether he’s a clone, or the original. Surely he must be the original. He feels like the original.

In an opening dialog which has all the rapid-fire crispness of a ping pong game, we watch Son’s deepening confusion and father’s growing anger that the hospital should take such liberties. They circle the stage like a couple of prize fighters, son gradually seeing the positive aspects of there being more than one of him, father seizing the opportunity to get “a lot of money” from the hospital, son seeing the down side of cloning–who is he? And how many others are there?

Father tries to explain how a clone might have been made–maybe when son was born, or maybe when he broke his leg and was in the hospital. Maybe they took scrapings of his skin.

He’s all for profiting from the illegal use of his son’s DNA. “They’ve damaged your uniqueness, weakened your identity...”

As the discussion progresses, father’s story began to crumble and he begins to reveal that he’s not as innocent as he first stated. In fact, his wife and son were killed in an auto accident and he was so distraught at losing his beloved son that he agreed to have him cloned.

Or is that really the story?

The piece is only 65 minutes long, but director Stephanie Gularte makes certain that it is a roller coaster ride from start to finish.

Morrison has the opportunity to stretch his acting chops to become three very different personalities, as first one, and then another of the clones (or is one of them the original?) interacts with Father, each expressing his own feeling about the cloning experiment..

Each discussion with Father reveals a bit more of father’s story and wipes away the warmhearted person we saw in the opening moments of the play. Taylor’s performance matches Morrison’s in its multi-faceted complexity.

Apparently mother died under questionable circumstances–was it an auto accident? Did she commit suicide? Was it something else? Father becomes more and more evasive on the subject. We eventually discover that he apparently botched the fathering of his young son and he wants a second chance, hence the cloning.

But what became of the original? Was he killed, as the father first states, or did he survive? And if he survived, where has he been all these years?

Jonathan Williams’ somewhat stark set (a couch and some light-filled columns) adds to the futuristic feel of the play, along with Steve Decker’s lighting design, creating the mood for each meeting with a subsequent clone. Brad Thompson’s sound design, with its relentless heart beat, adds an element of suspense.

Capitol Stage’s production of “A Number” will be one that you will long remember.

Tennessee Williams wrote 'A Streetcar Named Desire' in 1947, and Blanche DuBois has depended on the kindness of strangers ever since.

Director Lydia Venables treats her kindly in the production that continues through June 8 at the Woodland Opera House.

The 1951 Marlon Brando film put the focus on the character of Stanley Kowalski, a construction worker who has lured his wife, Stella, away from her rich family to a cramped apartment in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

But the play actually centers around the complicated relationship between sisters Stella (Amy Vyvlecka) and Blanche (Lee Marie Kelly) - both of whom have endured disappointment, loss, pain and hardship - and their struggle to survive.

Stanley (Brien Rife) is a possessive man with a volatile temper, but it's plainly obvious that he and Stella have an active and satisfying sex life that makes the rest bearable. Stella is torn between her love for Stanley and her love for her delicate sister, who needs protecting.


Rife's Stanley is crude, loud and menacing: quick to anger and prone to throw things when he becomes infuriated. But he's obviously madly in love with his wife, as the famous wail proves ('Stella! Stella!'), when he realizes that an upstairs neighbor, Eunice Hubble (Georgann Wallace), has taken Stella in to protect her from Stanley, after a particularly violent outburst.

But Stanley always puts his own wants and needs ahead of everything else, and doesn't realize what he has until he has lost it, and finally commits the unforgivable sin.

Vyvlecka gives Stella a real heart, and makes it obvious how much this woman loves her husband, even when he becomes abusive. We also can see what Stella gets from this dysfunctional relationship, as Vyvlecka adeptly displays her character's sensual attraction to her husband.

Blanche is a fragile soul, who struggles to retain her sanity while her world crumbles around her: the suicide of her young homosexual husband, the loss of her beloved family home at Belle Rive, the loss of her teaching job following an affair with one of her high school students. We get hints of a checkered past as a woman of loose morals. She hides a drinking problem.

But Blanche arrives in New Orleans with a trunk full of frilly clothes to meet all of Stella's friends, and she maintains an air of distracted gentility.

Kelly's performance is superb: She is coquettish, disgusted, fearful, tender, sensual and vulnerable, and she gradually slides into madness.

Dean Shellenberger gives a wonderful performance as Harold Mitchell, a large, shy man who lives with his mother; he's smitten with Blanche, whose like he never has seen before.

He plays the gentle suitor, only to turn his back on her when the truth comes to light. He turns cruel, as he strips away the colored lantern she has placed on a naked lightbulb, and forces her to confront her literal and figurative reality.

Great Collet (Steve Hubbell), Pablo Gonzales (Erik Catalan), Andy Hyun (a young collector), Leslie Kenyon (Matron) and Michail Buse (Doctor) complete the ensemble, each delivering solid performances.

Scenic designer Jeff Kean beautifully portrays not only the cramped, claustrophobic apartment that the Kowalskis share with Blanche, but also - by extending the set to the adjoining off-stage boxes - the French Quarter itself.

In 'Streetcar,' Williams gave the world a gumbo filled with failure, vulnerability, depravity and the helpless fragility of the human mind. Venables has mixed this ingredients with the expertise of a master chef, and served the results with panache.

Fool for Love

Sam Shepard wrote his “Fool for Love” following the break-up with his wife in order to be with Jessica Lange. He described the play as “the outcome of all this tumultuous feeling I've been going through this past year. It's a very emotional play and in some ways embarrassing for me to witness but somehow necessary at the same time.”

Capital Stage is currently presenting “Fool for Love,” under the direction of Janis Stevens. The 75 minute play is presented without intermission and is heavy on dialog and not much on plot, but “plot” is not the intent of playwright Shepard.

While the play does not deal with marital infidelity, it is an intensely powerful, sensual, emotional roller coaster detailing the obsessive relationship between two people, Eddie (Jonathan Rhys Williams) and May (Williams' real-life wife, Stephanie Gularte) in a seedy motel somewhere in the Mojave desert, where May has been hiding out ever since Eddie's relationship with someone she refers to as “The Countess.” This is kind of motel where you keep glasses in the bathroom because there is no kitchen, and where the blinds on the window hang at a rakish angle, and nobody seems to care.

The action starts in silence, three people on the stage—Eddie and May, and the old man (Loren Taylor), sitting in semi-darkness watching the dialog unfold.

We don't need to feel the heat to know that it is hot. May looks completely drained, physically and emotionally. Eddie, desperate, asks May if he should leave, even though he has just driven more than 2,000 just to see her.

“I missed you. I did. I missed you more than anything I ever missed in my whole life. I just kept thinkin' about you the whole time I was driving. Kept seeing you. Sometimes just a part of you.”

The ambivalent nature of their relationship is established very early, as Eddie leaves, then comes back only to have May grab him and give him a passionate kiss.

It is very clear that these are two people who can't live together and can't live without each other.

Eddie has grand plans—He's going to settle down. He's going to move a trailer, build a corral in which to keeep horses, have a big vegetable garden and some chickens.

“I hate chickens! I hate horses!...You keep coming up with this lame country dream life with chickens and vegetables and I can't stand any of it...”

Gularte and Williams are perfect in their roles. It is perhaps their real-life marriage which makes the physical relationship between the two sizzle with such passion.

As the action plays out, the Old Man sits, watching, a drink in hand. We learn soon that he is the voice in Eddie's head and in his conversations with Eddie, we learn what impact his relationship with both Eddie and with May has had on each of them, and on their on-again-off-again relationship with each other.

Taylor makes a perfect grizzled old codger, for whom life was never easy, and who took his anger out on those around him.

A fourth member of the cast, David Campfield, plays Martin, May's date, who unwittingly arrives at the height of tension between May and Eddie. Campfield has the dazed look of a deer caught in the headlights as he tries to assess what exactly is going on between May and Eddie. He was so perfect in the role that he seemed to have difficulty shaking it at the final bow.

Special notice should be given of the lighting design of Ron Madonia and sound design of Brad Thompson who made things happening outside the motel amazingly realistic.

Director Stevens deserves credit for her ability to direct the verbal battle between Eddie and May with the same care as one would direct the arias of an opera.

“Fool for Love” is a gritty story that has no resolution because we know that no matter what they do, Eddie and May will always be connected to each other, whether they want to be or not.

Cyrano de Bergerac

At the risk of pandering to an obvious pun, Sacramento Theatre Company's current production of Edmund Rostand's “Cyrano de Bergerac” hits it right on the nose.

Sandford Robbins, the founder and director of the Professional Training Program (PTTP), one of the top ten dramatic education programs in the country, and "Cyrano" director Peggy Shannon adapted Rostand's classic especially for Sacramento Theatre Company. The result is a romantic tale of a 17th Century French cavalier poet, a master swordsman as skillful with the pen as with the sword, in love with a beautiful lady, but afraid that his protuberant proboscis will get in the way of his search for true love.

John Pribyl brings dignity, humor, and panache to the role of Cyrano, a man who covers up a lot of his insecurities by laughing at his own physical oddity, while inside pining away for the love of the beautiful Roxanne (Jackie Vanderbeck). Pribyl's diction is impeccable, as he delivers long discourses, equally eloquent on subject of love, or on put-downs of his own prosthetically enhanced nose.

Instead of embarrassing himself by declaring his love for Roxanne, Cyrano becomes the mouthpiece for the handsome, dashing, but somewhat inarticulate cavalier Christian (Brett Williams), helping him woo and win the hand of Roxanne by putting words in his mouth and in his pen, the words that Roxanne longs for and that ultimately help her fall in love.

Williams does a fine job as Christian. Most roles in this play are subordinate to Cyrano and Williams does not stand out.

Vanderbeck is a lovely Roxanne, swept away by the eloquence of Cyrano's words, which she feels are coming from Christian, only to realize, much too late, that the man with whom she has been in love for so many years is really Cyrano.

Matt K. Miller, who has become a master at playing the snide villain undergoing some sort of ultimate noble transformation does not disappoint as the Comte DeGuiche, with his own designs on Roxanne, outwitted at the last moment by Cyrano, who arranges a hasty marriage before Christian is sent off to war.

(Times were apparently different in the 1600s and it appears that even cads respected the bond of marriage.)

Others in lesser roles all performed well. Adrian Roberts is a commanding presence on the stage as Cyrano's lifelong friend LeBret.

Lynn Baker is Roxanne's Duena, and later in the play dons the habit for a role as a nun in the abby where Roxanne retires following Christian's death.

Michael RJ Campbell is resplendent in pink as Cyrano's enemy, the actor Monfleury.

Doug Kester is Ragueneau, a pastry chef with a particular love of poetry.

John Dalmon is the poet Ligniere, whose life Cyrano saves by single-handedly battling 100 men.

Incidental music is provided by Moises Rodriguez, softly playing the guitar at one side of the stage, occasionally as accompaniment for on-stage choral singing, or solos by Erik Smith, who has a pleasant, if not memorable voice.

Chris Uchman-Douglas, playing the role of the Vicomte Valvert is also credited with fight choreography and has done a masterful job of creating the feel of a band of cavaliers for whom swordplay comes as second nature.

Kudos to Todd Roehermann for his magnificent costume design. The costumes, particularly of the cavaliers gave a wonderful richness to the look of the show.

Arthur Roch's scenic design was utilitarian, though nothing spectacular, primarily dictated by the number of people needed to be on stage in several scenes. The abby scene, however, was especitally lovely. I took particular offense, however, to his "man in the moon" rising across the nighttime sky. As this production seems to have been designed more for realism than for fantasy, a big yellow moon with the face of a man on it seemed jarringly out of place.

"Cyrano de Bergerac" is a classic with a contemporary feel. Director Peggy Shannon's production is wonderfully accessible and with a tragic triangular love story and all the swash-buckling battles that take place on the stage, it should have broad appeal across the spectrum of audience members.

Resting Place

Seven year old Ashley is dead. We know this because a huge grave stone dominates the set for the world premiere of “Resting Place, a new play by local playwright Richard Broadhurst (whose play "Benched" was given its world premiere at STC in 2001 and whose holiday comedy "Crib" was performed at River Stage in 2005).

Ashley’s grave is the meeting place for Ashley’s mother Margaret (Kelley Weir), who seems to be a very uptight and angry woman and the cemetery’s groundskeeper Paulie (Robert Sicular), a man of limited intelligence and education, lonely and desperate for company.

The first meeting does not go well. Margaret is angry because she feels Paulie is desecrating her daughter’s grave, though softens somewhat when she discovers he is the groundskeeper. When she tries to end their encounter, he seems desperate to keep her there, talking.

As the two talk, it becomes apparent that both have secrets they have buried and that both need a “resting place” where they can just get away from everything.

Paulie reveals a childhood of neglect and abandonment, a life lived in detention centers and then, saddest of all, his decision to rob a bank to get money for medical care for his grandmother. Prison, he confesses, taught him a trade and when he was released, he deliberately violated his parole so he could go back to prison and continue his education in gardening.

Margaret eventually reveals the marital abuse and alcoholism that drove her to leave her husband and the circumstances of Ashley’s death, for which she blames herself. She also confesses to estrangement from her younger daughter.

A casual friendship develops between the two, though each has more to reveal which will result in plot twists the audience does not see coming.

In attempting to hold on to Margaret’s friendship, Paulie suggests the two assume fantasy identities, Paulie a pirate, and Margaret “Monique,” a woman of mystery. This was perhaps the weakest part of the plot.

Though this is a serious story, there are lots of funny lines. In places the script seems not to ring true and it’s difficult to know if this is the part of the script itself or of Weir’s delivery, since it is her character who is the less believable of the two.

Sicular is excellent as a man who has never had to learn proper manners, but who is trying to be polite to this very proper woman. His persona is enhanced by his costume, the rough-hewn clothing of a man who is accustomed to working with the soil. Costumer Jessica Minnihan has added perfect little touches, like the heavy horn-rimmed glasses held together with duct tape.

Weir’s Margaret is an uptight woman whose grief over her daughter’s death is buried deeply and gives her a hard edge. The edge cracks at one point and anyone who has lost a loved one, particularly a child, will be able to identify with her pain.

The third member of the cast is a non-speaking child, dressed, head to toe, in a skeleton costume. The role is shared by Jack Hughes and Andrew Standriff.

Scenic Designer, Steve Decker, has created a realistic cemetery, somewhat hampered by the short space between the back of the stage and the front row of seats. In order not to step on “graves,” the actors always seemed to be close to stepping on the toes of those sitting in the front row.

Lighting Designer Dale Marshall has done some wonderful work, including a beautiful “morning,” as Paulie wakes up from a night of drinking. The “sun through the leaves” effect was perfect.

“Resting Place” is a show about coming to terms with the secrets in our past and learning to deal with them, to forgive ourselves for our past transgressions, give ourselves a “do over,” and to move forward. `

Fate and Spinoza

Any idiot can say God works in mysterious ways but only the scientists are proving it.

This is one of the central themes of "Fate and Spinoza," a new work by Granada Artist-in-Residence and 2007 Pulitzer Prize Finalist Rinde Eckert, with music composed by Eckert and Rich Gaarde, which premiered at the UCD Main Theatre on Friday evening. Gaarde also provides the musical accompaniment for the show from a spot off to the side on the stage.

Writers use lots of material as inspiration for plots of books or plays or musical works, but it seems fair to say that “Ethics” by Spinoza, a philosophical treatise based on geometric principles, would probably not be high on the list. But then Rinde Eckert is no ordinary playwright, as his large body of work will attest. Still, Eckert manages to make it all work, in a visually pleasant production filled with rich vocabulary and a gorgeous choral work which seems to come from out of nowhere somewhere in the middle.

“Fate and Spinoza”is more “philosophy driven” than “plot driven,” but the story revolves around April Lansky (Hope Mirlis), a wife, mother and engineer who designs satellites and telescopes. Lansky is inexplicably compelled to revisit a hotel from her past that is about to be torn down. There she encounters the ghost of artist David (Spinoza) Cornell (Matt Moore) and also the Devil (Timothy Orr) and, in conversation with them, reflects on her life choices and begins to come to terms with her present.

The action of the play is seen from the viewpoint of April. Through dialogue with the characters in the room that once was the artist's studio, she recovers that which she lost 20 years earlier.

The room seems to be a magical place, not necessarily a rational place. Things happen which may not happen in the real world (such as the meeting with the Devil). By virtue of the fact that April spends the entire play in the room, she is separated from her family but is still able to witness what they are going through.

There are a lot of story-telling issues that go into a study of something so complex and Eckert uses several devices to do it. Anna Schumacher plays April’s daughter Delia, and is also one of the classic “Fates” who provide much of the narrative. Vicky Zelaya is another of the fates.

Perhaps the clearest bit of philosophy is offered by two tile setters, Victor Toman and Travis Dukelow, who put their lunch boxes down and discourse on the notion of “wasting time.” The particular scene is very funny, yet at its conclusion you realize that you have just been given a lot of very deep thoughts to mull over.

“What do you mean waste of time?” “What do I mean what do I mean ‘waste of time?’ A waste of time is a waste of time! We all know what we mean!” “No we don’t. No one knows what we mean by that.” The character goes on to say that discussing “a waste of time” is in itself a waste of time.

Hope Mirlis is one of the actors who shines in this strong cast of characters, as does Timothy Orr, whose “Devil” is less evil than we have come to expect. His identity is hinted at in the red accents to his costume and the red bath of light in which he stands (costume design by Nancy Pipkin, scenic and lighting design by Carrie Mullen).

“Fate and Spinoza” may not be everybody’s cup of tea, but, as with everything Rinde Eckert does, it will leave the audience thinking about things that they had never thought about before.

And that definitely is no waste of time!

Topdog/Underdog

Can anything good come of naming sons “Lincoln” and “Booth”? Especially if you admit you did it for a joke.

Lincoln (Hassan El-Amin) and Booth (Adrian Roberts) are the characters in a 2-act Pulitzer prize winning drama called “Topdog/Underdog,” written by Suzan-Lori Parks, directed by Benny Sato Ambush, and currently presented on the main stage of Sacramento Theater Company, through February 17th.

(You will never be tempted to play Three Card Monte again!)

The play had a successful off-Broadway run with actors Don Cheadle and Jeffrey Wright in the lead roles. It then had an extended run on Broadway in 2002, in which Cheadle was replaced by MosDef.

By all means get to the theater in time to see director Ambush give the pre-show talk, which is one of the best I’ve heard at Sacramento Theater Company and beautifully sets up the play you are about to see.

Entering the main theater you see the lights glowing softly on the beautiful set by Kathryn Kawecki (lighting design by Victor En Yu Tan). As the lights come up a the start of the play, we find it is a shabby room with thrift-shop style furniture.

“Topdog/Underdog” is the story of two brothers, Lincoln, the older and Booth, the younger. The men were abandoned as children by both of their and have grown up as best friends and support for each other. Through their interchanges (which often have the cadence and lyricism of poetry), it is clear that the pain of abandonment has sunk deep roots in both men and there is always something that brings them back to the parental love of which they were deprived throughout their lives. They are unable to trust anyone, as a result, even each other.

Both men are struggling to find their way in the world. Lincoln, having been thrown out of the house by his ex-wife is sleeping in a recliner in his brother’s room in a seedy boarding house. There is no bathroom; it is down the hall. Linc pays the rent, as he is the only brother with regular employment. He works at a local arcade, where he dresses as Abraham Lincoln (which includes covering up his dark skin with white make-up) and lets customers pretend to shoot him with a cap gun. In former days, Linc was a champion of the card game, Three-card Monte and could bring home hundreds of dollars a day which he’d bilked off of unsuspecting customers on the street. But he’s trying to become an honest man and has sworn off the cards. (“There’s more to me than that. There’s more to life.”)

Booth’s specialty is shoplifting. He can steal almost anything, from clothing to jewelry to large pieces of silverware. But he longs for Linc’s success with Three-card Monte and practices the banter and throwing the cards endlessly. He changes his name to “Three-Card.” He begs Linc for lessons and longs for the two of them to be partners in the game. He chides Lincoln for “dressing up like some dead white man” in order to make a living. Linc feels Booth is too bumbling to ever be a success at the con game.

As the play progresses towards its inevitable conclusion, there are mounting tensions involving employment and a girlfriend, and always a return to the core question: why did our parents leave, and did they ever love us? Are we worthy of love ourselves?

A very poignant scene has Booth waiting for his girlfriend to come for dinner. He has “boosted” tableware, silver service, flowers. He arranges and rearranges things, checks the food in the silver chaffing dish, and cries out for her to come. Linc arrives home to find Booth waiting at the window, certain that she will come, though she was due at 7 p.m. and it’s now 2 a.m.

El-Amin, Roberts, and director Ambush have worked together beautifully, to paint a well constructed picture of love and loss, of ambition and frustration, of the complexities that enter into family relationships and the tragedy that sometimes accompanies intense emotion.

It is a drama that will haunt you long after you have left the theater.

Of Mice and Men

With “Of Mice and Men,” John Steinbeck invented a new form of writing, the “play-novelette,” a novel that could be played from its lines or a play that could be read as a novel. It was first produced on Broadway in 1937, revived on Broadway in 1974 and again in Chicago in 1980. There was a movie in 1939, another in 1992, and two television productions, in 1968 and 1981, as well as a Turkish television production, “Fareler ve insanlar” in 1975.

This timeless classic story of solitude, longing and deep friendship has struck a chord with people around the world and rings true as much today as it did 70 years ago.

The Sacramento Theater Company production, directed by Michael Stevenson, remains faithful to Steinbeck’s original script – and the production is stunning.

The story centers around George and Lenny, farm workers who travel from job to job, trying to get together enough money to buy their own place and “live off the fat of the land.” George is the leader of the two, because he’s the one with the brains.

The classic description of Lenny is of a physically large, powerful man whose mind is slow and childlike. It is the way I have always seen the part played. Stevenson’s decision to make Lenny not only slow, but also obviously retarded was unusual.

That said, however, Matt K. Miller (George) and Jason Kuykendall (Lenny) turn in flawless performances. I can only assume that Kuykendall has spent a lot of time observing retarded people. Not only his speech pattern, but his body language, hand and facial movements were so convincing the “actor” got lost in the “character.” Lenny is a big-hearted man who loves to stroke soft things, but has no concept of his physical strength and can easily kill small, weak things without meaning to.

Miller’s George is a quick-tempered bulldog of a man who is both frustrated with Lenny, and at the same time feeling a brotherly love for him and a need to protect his friend at all costs, even when the “cost” is so very high.

Much of the play revolves around conversations between Lenny and George, George’s tirades at Lenny for his inability to remember simple commands, contrasted with the story that Lenny always wants George to tell him, about the place they will own, what they will grow and especially the rabbits that Lenny so passionately wants to raise and care for.

The supporting cast of this production is on a par with Miller and Kuykendall, all turning in outstanding performances.

Brett Williams is Slim, the “mule driver,” and perhaps unofficial leader of the ranchands. He’s a likeable guy and becomes a friend to George.

David Silberman gives heart and soul to Candy, who lost his hand in a farming accident and sees the writing on the wall for his future on the ranch. Candy’s one love is his old dog, literally on his last legs.

Aaron Wilton is Curley, the son of the Boss (Floyd Harden), a jealous man with a beautiful new bride, a chip on his shoulder and a hair trigger temper.

Vivian Kerr is Curley’s wife (never named), who is already bored with her new husband and bored with life on the ranch where she longs for someone to talk to. The ranch hands regard her as a slut, but Kerr gives her a sympathetic innocence.

Eddie Jackson is Crooks, the Negro blacksmith, who must sleep in separate quarters because the races don’t mix. He’s bitter and sardonic and sees George and Lenny’s plan to own their own place for what it is: an impossible dream.

The last two farmhands are David Campfield as Whit and David Pierini as Carlson, an angry, self-indulgent man without a soul.

Arthur Rotch is scenic and lighting designer for this production, effectively creating the barren landscape of the Salinas Valley and the rustic out-buildings of a run-down farmhouse. Though not, strictly speaking, a part of the production itself, the silhouettes created by the farm structures against the backdrop during set changes are striking in and of themselves.

Michael Stevenson has treated this Steinbeck classic with reverence and has directed a production which is exceptional. Miller and Kuykendall have created characters who will not soon be forgotten. The production is top notch all the way.

A Patriot Act: The Trial of George W. Bush

A military tribunal was convened at California Stage on Saturday for the purpose of bringing George W.Bush to trial. He was charged with war crimes, dereliction of duty, and treason. After testimony by witnesses and deliberation by juries on each charge, he was found guilty on all three counts and sentenced to the maximum time in prison.

As a reviewer, I make it a point never to reveal the endings of plays that I review. I don’t want to spoil it for people who will be coming to see the show. But I make exception for playwright Todd Blakesley’s “A Patriot Act: The Trial of GeorgeW.Bush” because the ending of the show is dependent on audience input. It may change each night. (In fact, I spoke with the director after the second performance, and learned the defendant had been acquitted on two counts and convicted only on dereliction of duty.)

“A Patriot Act” is an experience from the moment you approach the theater. (One hopes that there will be a way to speed up the entrance process, as at Sunday’s performances, a line stretched out the door and into the hot sun while people slowly filed in.) Each person must fill out a security clearance card, which they were informed must be worn at all times. The cards indicate whether the person was there to be a member of one of the three juries, a witness for either the prosecution or the defense, or merely an observer.

Once the cards were filled out, people were screened for weapons before being allowed to pass into the theater itself.

There was activity going on in the courtroom, with potential witnesses being interviewed by attorneys, jurors being assigned to individual juries, and attorneys discussing among themselves. On opening night, there was a longer line for the prosecution witnesses than for the defense.

The audience was informed that the defendant was being held in an undisclosed location, but was monitoring the actions on closed-circuit television and communicating with his attorneys via telephone.

The court is presided over by Magistrate Mark Heckman. Heckman, with Ray Tatar (who also acts as a special agent), is the co-director of the piece and he was very judicial in his supervision of the trial itself.

Bailiff Crag Chavez was stern, at times almost menacing, as he kept things orderly and called each witness to the stand.

Opening statements and instructions were a little rocky on opening night, but the cast quickly settled into the rhythm of the trial.

The prosecution team is headed by William A. Bergen, who is not only an actor...but also an Auburn-based attorney. Of all six of the attorneys (three of whom are attorneys in real life), Bergen was the most at ease and seemed the best able to think on his feet. He inspired confidence whenever he got up to speak.

Other prosecution attorneys were Mark Stone and Eva Kim. The defense team was headed by Sacramento attorney Jeff Kravitz, assisted by actor/attorney Michael Garabedian and Bergen’s real life daughter, Athena Bergen, a U.C. Davis graduate

Four of the witnesses (Devin Ritchie, Ellen Vincent, Franny Phillips and Greg Koski) are scripted, and are called randomly, along with the audience volunteers. (I won’t review their performances, to keep the audience guessing as to who is who, but all gave believable performances.) On opening night there was an interesting assortment of witnesses, each of whom was passionate in his or her statements. Each spoke to how the current administration had negatively or positively affected his or her life. Testimony from audience volunteers provided the heart of this play, giving intensity and depth of feeling about the current administration. It lent an air of authenticity to the proceedings.

When all witnesses had been heard, the jury retired to their respective chambers to deliberate and return with a verdict. It is clear, from the notes some of the jurors took during the trial, that they took their task very seriously. The result was clear to no one until the jurors return from deliberation.

While many may feel that this play is set up to point fingers at the President, in fact the audience is a mix of supporters and detractors, and both sides had an opportunity to be heard. It is an example of the kind of democracy and free speech that we are attempting to spread around the world.

Todd Blakesley and California Stage are to be commended for allowing Sacramento area audiences the opportunity to participate in this thought-provoking work which will surely send many audience members home with lots of points to ponder as we head into “election season.” As for how the trial turns out the night you attend, just remember: YOU are the decider.

Othello

Revenge! Passion! Lust! Greed!...and Love.

Shakespeare’s great tragedy “Othello” has it all, and the Sacramento Theater Company’s sparkling new production, under director Peggy Shannon serves it well, from the magnificent set designed by Marion Williams, to the powerful performances delivered by the members of the cast.

While the play centers around Othello (Marc Antonio Pritchett), the noble Moor and general in the defense forces, who has just eloped with the lovely Desdemona (Michele Hillen), Act 1 really belongs to Iago (Matt K. Miller), a 17th century Karl Rove who manipulates all action, convinces people to do terrible things and traps them in an intricate web of lies, while all the while feigning innocence and friendship with Othello himself.

Iago is angry because he feels he has been passed over for promotion in favor of young Cassio (Brett Williams) and so he sets in motion an elaborate plot to convince Othello that his young bride has been unfaithful, which ultimately results in the demise of just about everybody.

Miller’s Iago is more mischievous than villainous as he plots to bring down Othello. There is always a smirk on his face and a twinkle hidden somewhere in his eye even while he is doing the most dastardly deeds or expressing his hatred of Othello. It is easy to see why everyone believes him and is taken in by his manipulation. He’s a likeable bad guy.

Iago’s character resonates strongly in this day and age, where jumping to conclusions and acting on those misguided conclusion can have lasting negative effects.

Pritchett is subdued, almost an afterthought, in the first act. His Othello seems to be little more than a prop off of which Iago plays. His love of Desdemona is obvious, though gentle, without any foreshadowing of the rage he will develop in Act 2 at the suspicion that his wife has been dallying with another man.

He comes into his own, however, in Act 2, fulfilling the promise of passions only hinted at in Act 1. He displays genuine anguish at the thought of his wife’s unfaithfulness, and deep remorse following her murder. Pritchett doesn’t exactly take command of the stage so that you center on him, but he has flashes of smoldering intensity.

Desdemona is exquisitely played by Michele Hillen, who gives her a sweet and innocent persona. She exudes a gentle love for Othello. In this production, theirs is a quiet love, not a sizzling passionate love, and she feels true confusion at his later accusations of her infidelity with Cassio (Brett Williams).

Williams is the perfect hero, tall and handsome, intense, and exuding sexuality. His principles crumble when Iago gets him drunk, which results in Othello stripping him of his rank.

Marie Bain turns in a memorable performance as Iago’s wife Amelia, who unwittingly gets drawn into the plot to bring down Othello, yet displays a feisty personality unafraid to stand up to either her husband or to Othello himself.

Brian Rivera is the hapless Roderigo, in love with Desdemona and fooled into thinking Iago is helping him press his suit, while all the while being drawn into Iago’s plot to destroy Othello. Rivera gives his character an endearing gullibility which gives him deep pockets for Iago’s greed.

The atmosphere is aided by the lush costumes of Todd Roehrman and the somber lighting design of Arthur Rotch. Michele Hillen doubled as dance choreographer for the belly dancers, and Marc Antonio Pritchett also choreographed the fight scenes.

While not, perhaps, an “Othello for the ages,” this is a very accessible Othello which will keep one enthralled from start to finish.

12 Angry Men

There is something magical that happens, sometimes, in straight drama – when it’s good. During the course of a play, a dramatic moment will come and you suddenly become aware that there is total silence in the theater. You could literally hear a pin drop. It is as if the entire audience were holding its breath so as not to miss a single word coming from the stage. When the venue is a large arena, it’s even more impressive.

Such a moment happened more than once during the opening night performance of Roundabout Theater Company’s traveling production of “12 Angry Men,” directed by Scott Ellis, the current Broadway Series offering at the Sacramento Community Theater.

Reginald Rose’s screenplay for “12 Angry Men” was initially a 1954 CBS “Studio One” production, later made into a feature film with an all-star cast which included Henry Fonda, Lee J. Cobb, E.G. Marshall, and Jack Klugman, among others.

The 90 minute intermission-less play is set in a jury deliberation room, where 12 jurors are to decide the fate of a 16 year old boy accused of murdering his father.

Six time Emmy nominee George Wendt (Norm from “Cheers”) and Emmy winner Richard Thomas (who has had a long, successful Broadway career since he said his last “Good night” as John Boy on “The Waltons”) are the big name stars who will pull in audience dollars, but they head a stellar cast of lesser known names but no lesser talented co-stars, each of whom seems exactly right for the part.

Wendt is Juror #1 who, as foreman, seems to have the least to do, other than calling for the vote and trying to keep peace among his increasingly frustrated and angry co-jurors.

Thomas is Juror #8, the only one who is not quick to condemn a 16 year old to death, though all the facts presented during the trial seem conclusively to prove his guilt. #8 admits that he isn’t convinced one way or another, but he passionately believes that the mandatory death sentence demands the group at least spend a little time examining all the evidence.

His fellow jurors present a broad spectrum of backgrounds and personalities, each of whom has accepted the boy’s guilt, for a variety of personal reasons.

#3 (Randle Mell) has a bad relationship with his son and his anger toward the defendant is based on anger with his own son’s behavior.

#10 (Julian Gamble) is a bigot whose prejudices against those who are “different” reveal themselves very quickly. (“They're no good! There's not a one of 'em who is any good!”)

#7 (Mark Moretti) doesn’t really care. All he knows is he has tickets to a baseball game and he’s eager to get the whole thing settled before the first ball is tossed out.

#9 (Alan Mandell) is an elderly man with a failing body, but a keen mind who sees more than some of the other jurors see.

#11 (David Lively) is an immigrant who feels a strong sense of his civic duties and whose dedication to the rights of the defendant are more finely tied to his sense of privilege for being allowed to participate in the legal system of his chosen country.

Others in the cast include Todd Cerveris, Jeffrey Hayenga, Jim Saltouros, Charles Borland, T. Scott Cunningham and Patrick New.

“12 Angry Men” is an interesting and engrossing look at our judicial system, with all its strengths and weaknesses, and, though set in the 1950s, is as relevant today as it was when it was first presented.

Les Liaisons Dangereuses

There is a Disney ad running on television now for the latest version of the cartoon “Cinderella.” In it, we are shown the now-familiar face of the sneering evil stepmother. I thought of that image several times, watching Janis Stevens’ portrayal of La Marquise de Merteuil in Capital Stage’s lusty production of “Les Liaisons Dangereuses,” Christopher Hampton’s adaptation of the 1782 French novel by Choderlos de Laclos, directed by Michael Stevenson.

Stevens’ Merteuil may be the most malevolent female character you see on stage this year. With her head tilted back, her eyes mere slits, and her mouth forming an icy smile, Stevens is the perfect bad girl.

The setting is pre-Revolution Paris. Merteuil enlists her former lover, Le Vicomte de Valmont (Jason Kuykendall), to avenge a wrong done to the both of them by the unseen Gercourt, who has seduced a lover of Valmont while in the midst of a liaison with Merteuil. Merteuil wants Valmont to seduce Gercourt’s young bride to be, the 15-year-old virginal Cecile Volanges (Michelle Murphy). However, Valmont, feeling Cecile too unchallenging and uninteresting a victim (“humiliating, if you fail; commonplace, if you succeed”), is more intrigued by the virtuous, married La Presidente de Tourvel (Stephanie Gularte).

Let the games begin!

Kuykendall is a perfect co-conspirator for Stevens’ Merteuil. Tall, handsome, charming, and totally smarmy. Kuykendall has it all. He appears believable in his interactions with the young Cecile and the virtuous Tourvel, yet his personality can change in an instant when he flops down on the chaise lounge to report progress on his path of seduction. Valmont doesn’t plan on one thing: he actually falls in love with Tourvel and he’s not quite sure how to handle those feelings, which are his ultimate undoing.

Gularte is positively luminous, struggling with her response to Valmont’s advances, juggling the conflict between her duty to her husband, whom she does not love (“I am so lonely!”) and her desire for Valmont.

Michelle Murphy is so innocent, so young, that her rape by Valmont is so disturbing, we almost hope someone from “To Catch a Predator” will pop out from behind the secret panel and prevent the attack. Her later delight in the pleasures of the bedroom are likewise disturbing, given the age discrepancy between the two partners.

Paul Alary is Le Chevalier Danceny, a young man hopelessly in love with Cecile who innocently allows Valmont to control both his life and his pursuit of the object of his desire. Alary plays this young man as a bumbling adolescent whose transformation later in the piece is striking.

David Campbell makes much of the small role of Azolan, Valmont’s valet.

The supporting casts is equally strong – Gail Dartez as Cecile’s mother, Mme de Volanges; Vada Russell and Mme de Rosemonde; Megan Smith as the courtesan Emilie; and Michael Pollock as the Major-domo.

This production is so good that one would wish for a larger venue to greater present the opulence of the period, but Capitol Stage does what it can with the space it has to work in. Jonathan Williams has designed a generic drawing room which can be transformed into various boudoirs or drawing rooms by the movement of the ubiquitous chaise lounge, the changing of a vase of flowers, or the addition of a card table.

Gail Russell’s costumes are luxurious, and well suited to the character in question, whether the deep scarlet of Merteuil or the more virginal beige for Tourvel.

Les Liaisons Dangereuses is a sexy tale of love, lust and lies, beautifully served up by Capital Stage. The production contains brief nudity and is not recommended for the under-18 crowd.