All Shook Up

In order to enjoy the Woodland Opera House production of 'All Shook Up' - directed by Bobby Grainger, with music direction by Richanne Baldridge - it's necessary to forget all about the inane plot and dialogue.

It can be summed up pretty simply: 'Footloose' meets 'Mamma Mia.'

This musical, based on the songs made famous by Elvis Presley, tells of a town where the mayor (Nancy Agee) has passed the Mamie Eisenhower Decency Act, which means no public demonstrations of affection ... and absolutely no dancing or rock 'n' roll.

Cue a surprise visitor: a motorcycle-riding, guitar-playing, hip-shaking stud named Chad (Lafras le Roux), who is guaranteed to shake, rattle and roll things up. Repressed feelings start popping out all over the place.

Playwright Joe DiPietro borrowed liberally from Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night' and 'As You Like It' for his plot, which involves women dressing as men to woo the guys they desire, and love letters sent by way of intermediaries. You'll also detect hints of 'Hamlet' and 'Romeo and Juliet,' along with the notion of music being the food of love.

Try to follow this:

Dennis (Elio Guiterrez) is in love with Natalie (Amber Jean Moore), who is in love with Chad (Lafras le Roux), who is in love with Miss Sandra (Whitney-Claire Roeder), who is in love with Ed ... who actually is Natalie disguised as a man, to become friends with Chad. Natalie's father, Jim (Jeff Nauer), also is in love with Miss Sandra; Sylvia (Priscilla Harris) is in love with Jim.

Then there's the mayor's son, Dean (Eric Alley), who falls for Sylvia's daughter, Lorraine (Megan Sandoval). Not to mention Sheriff Earl (Steve MacKay), who has been in love with the mayor for years.

Sadly, all reference to The Bard ends with these borrowed plot elements. Happily, intelligent dialogue isn't necessary when you have good performances and fun dancing.

The performances and dances are great fun, from the opening number - 'Jailhouse Rock,' which I'm guessing occurred in some youth facility (unfortunately, I was seated at the back of the house and couldn't understand all the dialogue) - to the last bit of 'Burning Love.'

Le Roux's hips snap so smartly that we almost hear them click into place whenever he swivels his pelvis. His performance has enough Elvis to keep that image in mind, but Le Roux also has his own style, which works well for the character.

Amber Jean Moore is Natalie, a grease-monkey gal who 'never met a motorcycle I couldn't fix.' She falls for Chad and adopts the disguise of 'Ed' in order to be close to him. Moore is the epitome of a young girl with her first really big crush.

At the same time, Guiterrez's Dennis is the perfect nerd: helplessly and hopelessly in love with Natalie, who barely knows he exists, other than as a good friend.

Sandoval is a real standout as Lorraine, the daughter of the local café owner. Saldoval is irresistible, and we can't take our eyes off her when she's onstage.

As Lorraine's mother, Harris is less effective as an actress, but she brings the house down when she sings. Harris has a long history in gospel music, and it shows.

Alley is a surprise as Dean, who initially appears to be a stereotypical military school student. His reserve melts when he falls in love with Lorraine, and decides that 'It's Now or Never.'

Choreographer Gino Platina's dance numbers are excellent, and even include a tap number.

Laurie Everly-Klassen has done a nice job of dressing the cast in typical 1950s styles, and the real stand-out is Lorraine's poodle skirt.

If you liked Elvis and his music - or lively dancing and 1950s music in general - this show is for you.

Little House on the Prairie

It’s difficult to determine what creators (Book by Rachel Sheinkin, music by Rachel Portman, Lyrics by Donna DiNovelli) had in mind when they set out to bring Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Little House on the Prairie” to the stage.

It has the feel of something written by devoted fans of the books or the10 year television program–or both, who decided to stuff the whole thing into 2 hours and 40 minutes. It’s a whirlwind that takes Laura from little girl to teacher to bride and which encompasses snow storms (great technical effect by Adrianne Lobel), destructive fires, and more cloud-filled skies than you’ve ever seen in your life.

In one respect, it is the sweeping saga of the homesteaders who settled the mid-west and as such it has the potential for being the “Oklahoma” of its day, but the music isn’t nearly as good, and there is no time to get to know most of the characters in any depth, though there certainly is enough spirit to go around.

It’s not the performances at all which are to blame, but the whole show itself. Kara Lindsay is delightful as Laura, with an enthusiasm for life that threatens to explode out of her body at any moment. She has a big voice, boundless energy, and an engaging personality certain to win over the hardest of hearts.

Sister Mary (Alessa Neeck) is the “good girl,” quiet and obedient, but lovingly winsome and who seems to accept her blindness with aplomb. In fact the show never dwells at all on how she feels about the loss of her sight. “I’m blind now? Oh. Ok. Where do I go next?” (Not a quote from the show)

Anastasia Korbal is charming as the youngest daughter, Carrie, and is head an shoulders better than twins Lindsay and Sidney Greenbush, who played the role on TV.

Steve Blanchard is big and strong and has a big, strong voice as well. He makes quite a good Charles (“Pa”)

Sadly, the weakest of the family is probably the reason why most people will buy tickets to this show. Melissa Gilbert, who played the role of Laura all those years on television, is an OK Caroline Ingalls (“Ma”). There’s nothing wrong with her performance, it just can’t quite match that of her co-stars, especially vocally. Fortunately, she only has one solo to sing (“Wild Child”) which is very sweet and I only counted four actual notes that she had to hit. She pulled it off, but she’s no singer.

The real fun character to watch is Kate Loprest as bad girl Nellie Oleson. Loprest received applause at her first entrance, those bouncing blonde curls identifying her immediately to fans, and she did not disappoint, though she was more fun than her TV counterpart. Her “Without an Enemy” may have been the best solo song in the show. And she definitely makes an impression on a fence.

Kevin Massey plays Almanzo Wilder, whom Laura eventually weds, though theirs is a strange courtship. Massey also gives a strong performance and his numbers driving a team of horses are inventive.

(It is also interesting to note that Gilbert’s son, Michael Boxleitner, is making his stage debut as Willie Oleson in this production.)

Scenes which used the entire company to either travel across the country (great visual of a moving wagon train), or move about a growing town were the best. Set pieces are simple, but able to be mixed and matched in ingenious ways to create several looks.

The production has some interesting visual effects with wildly colorful sunsets, a star-filled sky, an impressive snowstorm, and a fire effect that was decidedly realistic. Sound Designer Carl Casella also had some interesting effects for horses.

I suspect “Little House on the Prairie” will be more of a hit with people who are NOT familiar with the television program as with those who are. A noticeable number of people left at intermission – no less than seven seats next to us, for example, were empty during the second act.

Black Pearl Sings

Live theater offers good performances, not-so good performances and - if you're very lucky - the occasional brilliant performance.

Crystal Fox, as Alberta 'Pearl' Johnson in the Sacramento Theatre Company production of 'Black Pearl Sings,' gives her audience a brilliant performance.

Frank Higgins' play, directed here by Michael Laun, is very loosely based on the story of Lead Belly (Huddie William Ledbetter), the iconic American folk and blues musician who was notable for his strong vocals, his virtuosity on the 12-string guitar and the songbook of folk standards he introduced.

Ledbetter was 'discovered' at Angola State Prison by musicologists John Lomax and his son, Alan. They recorded hundreds of Lead Belly's songs for the Library of Congress, and may have been instrumental in the singer's early release from prison.

Higgins has made this a two-woman play: Pearl and the researcher, Susannah (Lynn Baker), who sees this singer as her ticket to a good job in a male-dominated profession.

Susannah and Pearl meet at a women's prison in Texas, where the latter is serving time for mutilating an abusive boyfriend.

It's a wary dance from the beginning, as the two women engage with each other. Each wants something from the other, and both are trying to find a way to get that thing.

Susannah obviously wants Pearl's songs as a means to advance her career. While working in Appalachia, Susannah previously has uncovered songs traceable back to Ireland, only to have the credit usurped by her supervisor. By attempting to find someone who has learned the songs of the slaves - and, better still, songs that 'predate slave times' - she hopes to take her rightful place in the halls of academia.

Pearl can't see the value of her songs, but she hasn't heard from her 22-year-old daughter in weeks, and is afraid something has happened to her. Pearl, desperate for information about the girl, decides that maybe Susannah will help find her daughter in exchange for some of the songs she knows.

This give-and-take goes on throughout the first act, while an uneasy friendship - or something that approximates it - develops between the two women. Ultimately, Pearl's songs help win her an early parole, with Susannah's assistance, if she'll agree to visit New York and appear at various academic meetings.

Act 2 brings Pearl to New York and into the public eye. As her 'guest' attracts public attention, Susannah loses sight of the fact that she originally was seeking authenticity, and begins to script appearances that mold Pearl into the character she thinks the public wants: a transformation designed to cast Pearl in a more appealing light to academic institutions.

From the moment Fox sings the old slave song, 'Trouble So Hard,' she grabs the audience.

This is not a musical: Other than the occasional, barely audible strum of Susannah's zither, all the songs are performed with no instrumental accompaniment.

But these songs come from Pearl's gut, pass through her heart and take no prisoners. We not only sense her lifetime of troubles, but we hear them clearly in the anguished sounds that come through the performance.

It's difficult to know what to make of Baker's performance. The character is so affected in speech and mannerism that she seems more two-dimensional than fully realized. Even the brief moments, when her humanity breaks through the coldness of her character, are difficult to believe.

That said, by the time the play reaches its emotional conclusion, there isn't a dry eye in the house ... including those of the actresses.

The Show Must Go On

In the early 1980s, the Sunshine Children’s Theater was presenting an original musical called “Go-Go the Blue Gorilla.”  My 12 year old son Paul had the role of Rapper, the Parrot, the interlocutor of the piece.  It was Rapper who kept the plot of the story rolling along.. At one point he was supposed to deliver his lines from the branch of a “tree.”  Budgets being what they were for children’s theater, they had no tree, but they placed him in one of the doors that opens out over the stage of the Veterans Memorial Theater, some 10-15 feet above the stage.

Paul came down with the stomach flu the day of the performance and had no understudy. If he didn’t go on, they would have had to cancel the show.  Paul thought he could do the show, despite his illness. People stood in the wings in case he had to make a quick exit and all the young actors knew they might have to cover for him -- but we worried most about his perch so high above the stage, when he was already feeling queasy. One of the dads (who happened to be a doctor) climbed up the ladder behind him, to watch closely and grab him if he looked unsteady.

Paul got through the show, except for having to rush off stage right before the final scene. His sister delivered his final line for him.

This was our first experience with the theater tradition of “the show must go on” (a phrase coined by Noel Coward in 1950 when he was writing a song by the same name).

Paul would have to go on again several years later, when he was the lead singer for the band Lawsuit, a 10 piece band which also included his brother Ned, sister Jeri and sister-in-law Marta.  To this day I don’t know how they got through the first show, at Sudwerk, after the death of our son David, who had died a couple of weeks before.  During the song “Funny,” which contained the lyric “there’s a broken soldier who’s going home...,” there was an instrumental break during which Paul leaped off the stage and came to sob on my shoulder, and then climb back up on stage again and finish the song.

Theater people cope in the most horrendous of situations because the show must go on.  There is an audience which has paid good money to be entertained and doesn’t care what is going on in your personal life. 

William S. Gilbert (of Gilbert & Sullivan) addressed that very issue in the operetta, “Yeomen of the Guard.”

Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,
took with her your trifle of money;
Bless your heart, they don't mind - they're exceedingly kind -
They don't blame you - as long as you're funny!

In the fall of 1984, the late Amy Patten was playing an important role in the Davis Comic Opera Company’s (DCOC) production of "Man With a Load of Mischief."  Her husband, Gordon, who suffered from Parkinsons, had been in steady decline for some time. At the Champagne Gala performance, as Amy circulated among the crowd, serving hors d’oeuvres from a tray, people asked her how Gordon was doing.  "About the same," she replied.  It was only later that everyone learned that Gordon had died that weekend.  Only Jim Hutchinson, with whom she shared most of her scenes, knew of Gordon’s death.  She trusted him to help her if she suddenly got lost in the script. She explained later, “I didn’t want to bring the show down.  I didn’t want the show to suffer because of me.”

Director Ray Tatar recalls an actress who was doing a production of “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare” at California Stage.  Just before opening night, her 26 year old brother died.  The actress made the decision to do the performance anyway.  She had the final lines of the play, the “all the world’s a stage” piece, enumerating the 7 stages of man.  “When she got to that speech something came over her and she just started staring off into space,” said Tatar. “The audience waited for a couple of minutes– that’s a long time in a show that moves at a pretty steadfast clip.  It was quiet in the theater.  The audience was reading the reality of her expression.  She finally just fired her way through it to the end.  The audience roared approval as the other actors carried her off.” She finished the run of the play without further problem.

Actor Stephen Peithman’s sister, Ann, died the week before the opening of "Man of La Mancha," produced at UCD in the mid-1970s.  Peithman  played the villain, Dr. Carrasco ("The Knight of the Mirrors") and there were no understudies for any of the parts.

“When my mother called me to tell me that my sister had died after a sudden and virulent recurrence of cancer, she told me not to worry about leaving the show.  In fact, the first words she said, after ‘Your sister died this afternoon’ was ‘And you know she would have wanted you to stay in the show.’

“Actor David de Berry, playing Cervantes, gave me a hug before the show on opening night, and I remember thinking as the opening music began, ‘This is so unreal.’ 

“The show went beautifully, and to this day, I can't listen to the overture from ‘Man of La Mancha’ without thinking first of Ann,” says Peithman.

Sometimes incidents happen on stage and actors have to cope.  Actress Deborah Hammond knows this very well. 

As Patty in “You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown,” Hammond and another actor were fighting over a pencil in a scene.  The pencil was oversized, made from a large dowel.  Hammond’s blocking was to snatch the pencil from the other actor’s hand, the other actor still had quite a grip on it and when he released it the pencil  jabbed her in the eyebrow and caused a gash.  She finished the show before heading to the hospital.

In another situation, while in the role of Madame Arcati in Noel Coward’s “Blithe Spirit,” Hammond flung herself backwards, as directed, and experienced stabbing pain in her abdomen.  She completed the final act and went straight from the theater into emergency surgery to have her gallbladder removed.  (Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to finish the run.)

While playing Muzzy Van Hossmere in Runaway Stage’s production of “Thoroughly Modern Millie,” Hammond left the stage to complete a quick costume change.  She ended up falling down a small flight of stairs, head first, to the dressing room.  Other actors tried to sit her down and examine her; but she made her change and returned to the stage.  When the other actress entered the scene she was thrown a bit by the blood trickling down the side of Hammond’s face.  She managed to complete the performance and the run of the show

Patrick Van was set to appear in Davis Musical Theater Company’s recent “Kiss Me Kate,” when the week before the show opened he was hospitalized with suspected H1N1 (it turned out just to be the regular flu).  Van was released from the hospital in the late afternoon of opening night, went home to shower, and went to the theater. “I asked the director if any of my blocking had changed and asked my fellow cast members to nudge me if I looked confused. I knew that I just needed to pull things together for three hours and then I could sleep all the next day.”

Jennifer Teal remembers tearing her anterior cruciate ligament during ski camp a week before Acme’s “Time and the Conways.” “As long as I didn’t straighten my leg, I could still walk on it,” she says. Patrick Van remembers that “she would walk around the stage and stand behind a couch so she could support herself.  Her knee would pop out every once in awhile.” Teal adds, “We postponed surgery until the week after the show.  It was a valuable experience in terms of keeping commitments.”

Local singer/actress Lenore Heinson (in the days when she was Lenore Turner) didn’t let a little thing like pregnancy keep her from performing the title role in “Countess Maritza,” with San Francisco’s Lamplighters.  She was in her first trimester of pregnancy during rehearsals and was sleepy most of the time.  Someone drove her from Davis to San Francisco each night so she could sleep in the car, get out, sparkle during rehearsal and then sleep all the way back to Davis again.

By the time the show opened, the pregnancy started to show and the costumers had to find ways to expand her costume to keep up with her expanding girth.  She was double-cast in the role, and eventually had to leave the last two weekends to the other Maritza when it became impossible to hide the pregnancy any longer.

Sometimes an actor simply can’t perform and others are grabbed at the last minute to fill in, with little or no rehearsal.  Jason Hammond recalls, “One year, at Christmas time, I got a call to fill in for an actor who had been cast in a movie and had to go into production immediately.  The director asked me to learn the role of Tom Jenkins in “Scrooge the Musical,” to be performed the next evening…so I began memorizing.  Several hours later, the director called again and informed me that he had been mistaken -- it wasn’t the actor playing Tom Jenkins who was leaving the cast, but his twin brother who played the role of Harry, Scrooge’s nephew.  Needless to say, I had no sleep that night!”

In 1993, Adam Wright, playing Orlando, in Acme Theater Company’s production of  “As You Like It” came down with pneumonia during tech week. The Stage Manager, Andrew Hendrix, stepped in and played the role for three of the four performances. Andrew was off book by the second night.

In 1997, Qasim Shah, cast in Acme’s “Emma's Child,” took his own life only weeks before the show was to open. Evan Drane stepped in and did a remarkable job, as did the entire cast, considering the circumstances. “It was one of the most difficult moments of my life,” remembers director Dave Burmester.

During the Davis Comic Opera Company’s first production of “A Little Night Music,” Myrna Woodhead missed the second act because she went to the ER with food poisoning. Myrna was part of the quintet. "Sandra Silva sang Myrna's lyrics, and everyone else just did what was needed to make the new configuration workable," says Stephen Peithman.

Theater people pull together during times of crisis and accomplish amazing things.

California Stage was doing an out of town production of “Real Women have Curves.”  The set consisted of a number of flats but when the tech crew went to put the set together, they discovered they had left the crucial piece that holds it all together back in Sacramento.  One technician told another to hold the set upright while he went to find something to make it all work.  It turns out he drove an hour back to Sacramento to get the missing piece, leaving the original technician holding the set upright for 40 minutes while the first act went on.  (At intermission they found something backstage that would support the set.)

During the run of the Davis Comic Opera Company’s 10th anniversary show, the tech crew arrived at the Veterans Memorial Theater at 2:30 in order to get ready for the 4:00 matinee, only to find an inch of water on the stage and two inches in the pit. (The drain outside had backed up causing the water to come in under the door, across the stage and into the pit) “The pit water was not only messy; it was dangerous because of the electrical necessities there,” recalls Nancianna Pfister.  “Our gallant technical crew spent the next hours quite literally bailing us out.  The show opened only 12 minutes late.”

Directors aren’t immune either. “I had emergency heart surgery on the eve of tech week of ‘The Water Children,’” explains Burmester.  “Tom (Burmester) and Emily (Henderson) shepherded the show through dress rehearsals. I remember telling the doctor that I couldn't have surgery. ‘I have a show opening in nine days.’ His response: ‘That's okay. You'll be able to see the show.’ And I did. Before that, though, on opening night after the show, the whole cast came over to our house to give us a blow-by-blow of a great first night. I had just gotten out of the hospital, and it was one of the best nights of my whole life.”

Bob Bowen remembers “When I was producing and directing Nutcracker somewhere about 1981 or 1982, I got the flu. I was really ill and also lost my voice. Instead of staying home and resting, I strapped on a portable P.A. speaker and dragged myself down to the theater to make sure the show went on.”

Theater people are strange creatures, but they are very aware of their commitment to the audience, to give them the best possible performance–no matter what. “Even if you’re injured, once you’re in that zone of being in a show when the lights are on, you get such an adrenalin rush Your body forgets that your head hurts or you have a sore throat,” says Patrick Van.

The show must go on because there are no other options.  Theater folks are masters at improvisation and last-minuteness, They dream the impossible dream, so the show goes on.

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.

Arranged Marriage

In 2004, Sacramento Theatre Company's Peggy Shannon adapted a short story by Indian author Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, into a stage drama titled 'Arranged Marriage.'

The play was presented on the smaller of STC's two stages, with a cast of two talented actresses and four dancers.

For STC's current season, Shannon has revisited and expanded her original production to include classical Indian mythology. She also has added works by one of India's greatest poets, Rabindranath Tagore, to provide the literary voice for the Hindu deity Shiva and the Hindu goddess Parvati.

Shannon has blended the writings of Tagore and Divakaruni with three distinct styles of choreography - classical Indian, Bollywood and American modern dance - by Tyler Russell Warren. Some of the resulting story is told through movement, some through language, and some through movement and text.

Shannon dramatized one story, 'Clothes,' from Divakaruni's collection; it concerns Sumita, a young woman from Calcutta who is about to be married to Somesh, currently living in the United States and part owner of a 7-11 store. We never see Somesh, but Roshni Shukla - who made her STC debut in the earlier production of this play - is adorable: always on the verge of giggles of repressed delight, at the thought of the marriage that awaits her.

She and Somesh exchange letters, and though Sumita won't see him until their wedding day, she's a young girl in love; she can't wait to meet her husband.

Shukla's Sumita is at once shy, flirtatious and nervous during the ceremonials surrounding her nuptials, straddling the lives of a young girl and a newly married woman. She moves effortlessly into her role as wife and new American, as she becomes excited about the fresh sights, sounds and values of her new country.

The stark contrast between the United States and India is apparent in Sumita's assessment of clothing. The full, rich life she led in Calcutta centers on fabric and flowers, the scent and feel of things.

'I love the color: the same pale blue as the nayantara flowers that grow in my parents' garden,' she says, while trying on her first pair of American jeans.

She speaks of the orange T-shirt that - to her - is a color of joy, symbolizing her new American life.

When life takes an unexpected turn for the happy young bride, she's faced with a choice between her native culture and her new life in the United States. This is symbolized by the choice between a sari or 'a blouse and skirt the color of almonds.'

Katherine Cristina Miller, last seen as Brooke in 'Noises Off,' portrays the goddess Parvati, Sumita's mother and other supporting characters, and does so competently.

Warren's choreography makes this production a giant step up from its 2004 predecessor. Patrons who might not have heard of 'Bollywood' even a few years ago, prior to the attention granted the film 'Slumdog Millionaire,' now are quite familiar with this style of dancing ... and the dance sequences in 'Arranged Marriage' are a delight.

Many of the 14 dancers come from STC's Young Professionals Company, and they're good examples of this program's quality.

Gail Russell's costumes are stunning, and they deftly help bring audience members into this lush Indian life.

At its core, though, 'Arranged Marriage' is the story of a young girl falling in love and marrying, and then learning that dreams - no matter how strongly we hold them - can be shattered.

It's a very affecting tale, well re-told in this Sacramento Theatre Company production.

My Way

A dozen years after his death, Frank Sinatra still tugs at America's heart strings.

Famed choreographer Twyla Tharp is set to open her “Come Fly with Me,” featuring Sinatra's music, on Broadway later this year. The Sacramento Ballet recently performed “Nine Sinatra Songs,” one of Tharp's earlier works.

The 2009 Citizens Who Care concert, right here in Davis, focused on Sinatra's work.

And through May 9, California Musical Theatre's Continental Cabaret has mounted its own tribute to Ol' Blue Eyes, with a show called “My Way” (of course).

Sinatra always was — and continues to be — comfort food for the masses. Anybody who has ever quietly hummed “doo-be-doo-be-doo” will enjoy watching the four talented singers who trip through 58 selections from the Sinatra songbook. You may not know every song throughout the evening, but you'll certainly recognize most of them.

And you'll be invited to sing along with several, as well.

The setting is a high-class saloon, with blue lights, a grand piano — at which sits musical director Chris Schlagel — and a bar from which drinks are poured endlessly. The performers glide around the stage, moving from song to song: sometimes only bits and pieces of a song.

Some information is provided about Sinatra's career, but anyone who heard Steve Peithman's narration for last year's Citizens Who Care show will be disappointed by the lack of depth.

But the focus is on the music; in that respect, this cabaret performance does not disappoint.

Michael G. Hawkins, a veteran Music Circus performer, is the silver fox: the savvy crooner with a wink for the ladies, an ever-so-slightly off-color remark, a tilt of the martini and a smooth rendition of a Sinatra tune.

(To their credit, the singers do not use Sinatra arrangements, instead making each song his or her own.)

Young Jeffrey Christopher Todd, fresh from roles in shows such as “Rocky Horror Picture Show,” “Grease” and “Altar Boyz,” bears an uncanny resemblance to the very young Sinatra, with the tumbling curls and chiseled cheek bones. Todd has all the enthusiasm that Sinatra himself must have felt, as his star was beginning to rise.

The gentlemen are complemented by two more than competent females. Karole Foreman — who made her Sacramento debut last year, in the Music Circus production of “Thoroughly Modern Millie” — is effervescent and has a permanent twinkle in her eye. She's also a treat for the ears.

Laura Dickinson gives a sultry, smoky voice to songs such as “Where or When,” and seems to fit quite nicely into the slot of Sinatra “dames.”

The section of quotes about the “dames” in Sinatra's life may be somewhat offensive to 21st century women, but is explained with a quick “That's how it was in Sinatra's day.” He was a “guy,” and “dames” never could break into the inner circle ... although they might visit for entertainment purposes.

“You only live once,” Sinatra said, “and the way I live, once is enough.”

Apparently Americans aren't yet ready to take him at his word. Sinatra is alive and well, and still entertaining audiences at Sacramento's Cosmopolitan Cabaret.

Moon Over Buffalo

The Winters Theater Company production of Ken Ludwig's 'Moon Over Buffalo' has one problem.

Doors.

Four doors are present in this play's set. The presence of so many doors suggests a farce involving doors, but in this production people go out one door and come in via another door, on the opposite side of the stage. Characters exit, saying they're going outside, but they don't use the door that leads outside, because someone else is entering through that door.

A character sees somebody depart through one door, and then tells somebody else that said character left through a different door. What should be very funny just becomes confusing.

As for the plot, 'Moon Over Buffalo' is kind of a 1930s-era 'Noises Off' meets 'Waiting for Guffman.' A second-rate theater company - 'The House of Usher Repertory Theater,' jokes one character - has been forced to reduce its ranks to only five actors, who are stuck playing the Erlanger Theater in Buffalo, N.Y. ('Scranton, without the charm.')

Just in passing, the set looks more like a living room than a theater green room ... but at least it's painted green.

The company's stars, Charlotte (Christine Schiesart) and George (Phil Pittman), are over-the-hill actors who feel they just need the right show to revitalize their sagging careers.

The company has two productions in repertory: the swash-buckling 'Cyrano de Bergerac' and the Noel Coward comedy, 'Private Lives.' Both are being mounted with a very small cast: one at the matinee and the other in the evening.

The company gets word that director Frank Capra is filming a version of 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' nearby, starring Greer Garson and Ronald Coleman. When Coleman falls and breaks his leg, George receives a telephone call - from a telephone that has an ear-shattering ring - and learns that Capra is coming to check out their productions, to see if George and Charlotte might be good replacements for Coleman and Garson.

This announcement sets off a frenetic series of events: getting ready to perform, the discovery of an affair or two, Rosalind's confusion regarding the man she used to love and the man she plans to marry, George's drinking and several repairs to Cyrano's costume. The tighter, faster-paced second act rests heavily on Pittman's ability to remain drunk throughout. He delivers like a champ, nicely handling the physical comedy of a sword fight and a wrestling match, in addition to being falling-down blotto.

Schiesart does a good job in a role that was originated by Carol Burnett. Schiesart is given considerable help by costumers Germain Hupe, Ann Rost and Joanie Bryant; a red dress complements her color beautifully, and she does great things with a dramatic hat that she frequently takes off and puts back on.

Ann Rost, who always tackles wonderful droll roles, plays Charlotte's mother here: a woman who is hard of hearing and a little forgetful, who performs with the group and takes care of costumes ... and people's lives. The part is right up Rost's alley.

Joanie Bryant is earnest as Charlotte and George's daughter, Rosalind, who is tired of all the drama and just wants to settle down and raise a family. Jim Hewlett is perfect as nerdy Howard, Rosalind's boyfriend and the local TV weatherman, who is star-struck at the idea of meeting her somewhat famous parents.

JoAnn May plays Eileen, an ingenue who is pregnant with George's child. Her solution to this 'condition' nicely wraps up a rather frazzled situation, and smooths the way for the show's finale.

Trent Beeby plays Rosalind's former boyfriend, Paul, the troupe's stage manager, who has been pressed into service as one of its actors. Beeby always gives a solid performance, and this one's no exception. He and Bryant are quite funny as a couple who've broken up, but somehow can't keep their hands off each other.

The cast is rounded out by Greg Lanzaro as Richard, the Hays' attorney, who also is in love with Charlotte, and hopes to convince her to leave George and run away with him.

The clearly delighted audience chuckled wholeheartedly during the performance.

Chicago

Murder, greed, corruption, violence, exploitation, adultery and treachery have come to Sacramento.

It all takes place across the street from the Capitol, and has nothing to do with the California Legislature.

John Kander and Fred Ebb's Tony Award-winning 'Chicago,' which razzled and dazzled last week's opening night audience, has returned to the Sacramento Community Theater for a limited engagement that concludes Sunday.

'Chicago' points the finger at this country's perennial fascination with bad boys (and girls), and our tendency to raise them to near cult status as we salivate over every gory detail. Think Al Capone, Bonnie and Clyde, O.J. Simpson.

This musical is based on actual events from the 1920s, when journalist Maurine Dallas Watkins reported on the trial of a young woman - Beaulah Annan, 'the prettiest murderess' - who killed her boyfriend and then called her husband to announce this news, while a popular fox trot record played in the background.

Years later, William Wellman turned the story into a satirical 1942 film called 'Roxie Hart,' starring Ginger Rogers, in which the heroine confesses to a Chicago murder in order to kick-start her show business career.

This movie inspired choreographer Bob Fosse's collaboration with Kander and Ebb, and the result was 'Chicago, the Musical,' which opened on Broadway in 1975. Stars Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera played two jailbirds who competed for publicity for their respective crimes.

It was revived in 1996, directed by Walter Bobbie and with choreography by Ann Reinking (in the style of Bob Fosse). That production won six Tony Awards and many, many other accolades.

The 2003 film adaptation took the Best Picture Academy Award.

The latter honor notwithstanding, this show's appeal can't be captured on film with quite the same energy or excitement. Watching large clumps of people execute complex dance steps - while making it look effortless - is a live stage experience not to be missed.

Bianca Marroquin is outstanding as Roxie Hart, a housewife with stars in her eyes, who shoots her lover and then tries to use her crime to manufacture a show-biz career. Roxie's crime steals the headlines from Velma Kelly (Brenda Braxton), a once popular singer/dancer, who hopes to do the very same thing.

John O'Hurley is marvelous as the smooth and charming Billy Flynn, a slick lawyer who knows how to work the press and - for a price - make his clients such sympathetic figures that no jury would convict them. One of the show's funnier moments is the song, 'We Both Reached for the Gun,' with Billy acting as ventriloquist to Roxie's dummy.

Carol Woods is a strong presence, as Matron 'Mama' Morton, particularly when she sings 'When You're Good to Mama.'

Roxie's long-suffering husband, Amos Hart - a man who loves his wife no matter what - is given an appropriately downtrodden characterization by Tom Riis Farrell. We can't help falling in love with Amos when he sings 'Mr. Cellophane,' and everyone wants to give him a hug.

The play is filled with fabulous ensemble numbers that rely as much on choreography as on lyrics. The 'Cell Block Tango,' where each woman explains how she happened to kill her husband/lover, is marvelous.

Scenic designer John Lee Beatty places the orchestra center stage, with character entrances and exits over, under, around and through the orchestra box. Ken Billington provides the dramatic lighting, and the elegant yet decadent costumes are by William Ivey Long.

'Chicago' will make you clap enthusiastically, and then depart the theater while humming 'All that Jazz.' What more could be asked of an evening's entertainment?

Noises Off

If Michael Frayne's 'Noises Off' isn't the funniest play ever written, it's definitely in the top five.

And the production at the Woodland Opera House, directed by Bob Cooner, may be one of the funniest versions of an already hilarious comedy.

This very physical farce traces the actions of a hapless British touring theater company, in three acts: from final dress rehearsal of a play called 'Nothing On,' to a performance a month later and then another two months after that.

A lot of sardines are involved.

The play requires impeccable, split-second timing, incredible agility, a breakneck pace and - even for an American cast - a proper British accent.

The Opera House production gets high marks on all points. This particular cast is a cut above most others, thanks to the degree of intensity and electricity from everyone: energy that practically leaps off the stage, from start to finish.

The production begins with the dress rehearsal for a play, 'Noises On,' which is opening the next day. Bob Roe is perfect as this show's director, Lloyd Dallas, who sits in the audience and despairs of ever getting things right in 24 hours.

Martha Omiyo Kight plays Dotty Otley, an aging actress who has invested heavily in this show: not only because she wants one last hurrah, but also because there seems to be something between her and a fellow actor.

Kight is delightful as the appropriately named Dotty. She has huge, expressive eyes that serve her character well, especially when she looks around, somewhat lost, trying to remember where she should be, what she should be doing ... and what her lines are.

Craig Howard is brilliant as actor Garry Lejune, who never seems to finish a sentence, but gets his meaning across with body language in hilarious fashion.

Amelia Van Brunt plays the ditzy blonde, Brooke Ashton. Her performance is worthy of Suzanne Somers, both as Brooke and as her character, Vicki. She spends much of the time wandering around in a pink bustier, which complements her nicely.

Jim Lane is the equally ditzy Selsdon Mowbray, and it should be noted that this character's ditziness is augmented by the spirits he secrets around the stage. I've seen Selsdon played many ways, and Lane's rather vague 'not quite there' interpretation is spot-on.

Patricia Glass is Belinda Blair, the company's peacemaker. She knows everybody's secrets, and works tirelessly (against all odds) to keep things calm and organized.

Matthew Abergel is the mild-mannered Frederick Fellowes, susceptible to nosebleeds at the mere mention of violence. Despite this, he manages to experience several pratfalls throughout the evening.

Andrea Guidry's stage manager, Poppy, shines in Act 2, which is almost more mime than recited lines. This middle act takes place during a matinee performance one month later, as seen from backstage, when the cast has been together long enough that interpersonal relationships are starting to interfere with their work. Guidry is suitably harried by the actors' antics, while struggling with her own personal problems.

We also see more of Tim (Matthew Dan Sattel), the company's 'Lord High Everything Else,' who builds (and repairs) the set, runs errands, serves as the bookkeeper, works backstage with Poppy, and in his spare time understudies all the male roles. Tim's Scottish burr adds to his character's appeal.

By Act 3, the tour has fallen apart and everyone just tries to survive the final performance ... which they barely do. It's hard to know whether Act 2 or Act 3 is funnier.

In both cases, a lot of sardines are involved.

Congratulations are due set designer Jeff Kean, for creating a beautiful, rock-solid set that looks huge, but can rotate from the Act 1 living room scene to the Act 2 backstage scene - and back again - even on the tiny Opera House stage. It's a marvel.

This performance, definitely one of Woodland's better shows, isn't to be missed.

In God's Country (feature article)

Anyone who has the power to make you believe absurdities has the power to make you commit injustices.
- Voltaire


Since 2002, at least nine recorded hate crimes have been committed in Davis, from vandalism with swastika symbols and satanic language, to the painting of a racial slur on the street in front of the house of an African-American family - which later moved out of the city - and the vandalism of the UC Davis LGBT center, with derogatory and hateful words targeting the gay community.

This doesn't even count events such as the 1983 murder of Vietnamese student Thong Hy Huynh on the Davis High School campus, or the 1978 incident where seven students appeared at a football game wearing genuine KKK robes and carrying ropes, to protest an African-American player on the other team.

(It was felt, by the administration at the time, that punishment would be 'counter-productive' and that surely the students 'didn't understand the implication of their actions.')

On the surface, Davis seems like a nice, peaceful, accepting, enlightened town, but hate is present. Hate speech appears to be escalating at the high school this academic year, with students heard proclaiming things like 'Jews are stingy' and 'Hitler was really smart; he had the right idea.' Other students wonder why the school needs a Black Student Union, but not a White Student Union.

DHS drama teacher Gwyneth Bruch wants to jolt her students and us townsfolk out of our complacency, and get in our faces with the reality of what hate speech can spawn.

'California has more hate groups than any other state,' she said. 'We have 84; one count says 87. Tracy is the white supremacy capital of California. I have friends of color who won't drive to Chico.'

She points to names of groups such as the American Nazi Party, the Aryan Brotherhood, the Confederate Strikeforce Skinheads, the Covenant Sword and Arm of the Lord, Guardians of Justice, Teenage Commandos, White Knights of Liberty ... and on and on and on.

What do the groups want?

'They want a homeland; they want a white place,' Bruch said. 'They're so absurd, they might just be funny ... if they didn't kill people.'

Last summer, Bruch decided to produce Steven Dietz's controversial play, 'In God's Country,' which follows the true story of The Order, a white supremacist, neo-Nazi group that operated in the Western United States in the early 1980s. Its members, led by Robert Jay Mathews, staged armed robberies, netting more than $4 million; declared the establishment of a new, all-white nation; and murdered Denver radio talk show host Alan Berg in 1984, because he ridiculed them.

And because he was Jewish.

The play opens Friday and continues through March 13 at the Brunelle Performance Hall, 315 W. 14th St., Davis. Curtain times are 7 p.m. Friday, Saturday and March 11-13, and 2 p.m. Sunday.

The play's cast will lead a discussion after each performance.

Tickets - $12 general, $8 students - are available at (831) 224-0005 or dhsboxoffice@gmail.com.

Original court transcripts of the trial of Berg's killers - indicted for 'violating Berg's civil rights' when they killed him - provide the base for this play. Other elements are interwoven: images of neo-Nazi rituals and rhetoric; a training camp; intensely, intimately powerful monologues; and Berg's liberal and often in-your-face talk show.

'I'm grateful for the courage of our principal, Winfred Roberson, in agreeing to let me put on this show,' Bruch said. 'I showed him the script in August, and he read it. That's awesome.'

She then set about re-working the play so that 55 actors could participate in a play that actually calls for only nine or 10 (each of whom usually handles several roles).

'The students are excited to be doing this, because they see it as an important message,' Bruch said. 'Hate crimes happen in Davis; anti-Semitism is alive and well.

'What can we do about it?'

Bruch discussed the 'violence continuum,' with a casual racial slur at one end of the spectrum - a seemingly harmless thing - that can lead to murder at the other end of the spectrum.

'This reflects what happened to Matthew Shepard. If we ignore the anti-Semitic or racist comment - and there are lots around here - then somewhere it could end up with writing graffiti on the sidewalk to chase a family out of town, wearing sheets to a football game, or stabbing someone on school grounds.

'It's really important that people leave at the end of our play with the image that something very wrong is going on. And given the way I'm going to do this play, they will.'

Bruch has worked on this project since the summer, not only re-structuring the play to fit her large cast, but also recruiting to get specific actors in key roles.

'I have 10 guys playing white supremacists, and they're the sweetest people in the whole universe. Just beautiful, beautiful, beautiful people.'

Parents have been, for the most part, very supportive. One family agreed to let their child participate, but only if the role weren't as one of the white supremacists. Bruch accommodated that request.

'We're having a good time, but it's meaty. Theater is a powerful venue for a message. These kids have something to say, and I want to help them by choosing a piece where they can feel that they've made some growth as a person, and also helped their friends. My kids actually are excited about just talking about the experience of being in this play, and engaging their friends in conversations about the fact that hatred and hate speech are a real thing.

The Show Must Go On

In the early 1980s, the Sunshine Children’s Theater was presenting an original musical called “Go-Go the Blue Gorilla.”  My 12 year old son Paul had the role of Rapper, the Parrot, the interlocutor of the piece.  It was Rapper who kept the plot of the story rolling along.. At one point he was supposed to deliver his lines from the branch of a “tree.”  Budgets being what they were for children’s theater, they had no tree, but they placed him in one of the doors that opens out over the stage of the Veterans Memorial Theater, some 10-15 feet above the stage.

Paul came down with the stomach flu the day of the performance and had no understudy. If he didn’t go on, they would have had to cancel the show.  Paul thought he could do the show, despite his illness. People stood in the wings in case he had to make a quick exit and all the young actors knew they might have to cover for him -- but we worried most about his perch so high above the stage, when he was already feeling queasy. One of the dads (who happened to be a doctor) climbed up the ladder behind him, to watch closely and grab him if he looked unsteady.

Paul got through the show, except for having to rush off stage right before the final scene. His sister delivered his final line for him.

This was our first experience with the theater tradition of “the show must go on” (a phrase coined by Noel Coward in 1950 when he was writing a song by the same name).

Paul would have to go on again several years later, when he was the lead singer for the band Lawsuit, a 10 piece band which also included his brother Ned, sister Jeri and sister-in-law Marta.  To this day I don’t know how they got through the first show, at Sudwerk, after the death of our son David, who had died a couple of weeks before.  During the song “Funny,” which contained the lyric “there’s a broken soldier who’s going home...,” there was an instrumental break during which Paul leaped off the stage and came to sob on my shoulder, and then climb back up on stage again and finish the song.

Theater people cope in the most horrendous of situations because the show must go on.  There is an audience which has paid good money to be entertained and doesn’t care what is going on in your personal life. 

William S. Gilbert (of Gilbert & Sullivan) addressed that very issue in the operetta, “Yeomen of the Guard.”

Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,
took with her your trifle of money;
Bless your heart, they don't mind - they're exceedingly kind -
They don't blame you - as long as you're funny!

In the fall of 1984, the late Amy Patten was playing an important role in the Davis Comic Opera Company’s (DCOC) production of "Man With a Load of Mischief."  Her husband, Gordon, who suffered from Parkinsons, had been in steady decline for some time. At the Champagne Gala performance, as Amy circulated among the crowd, serving hors d’oeuvres from a tray, people asked her how Gordon was doing.  "About the same," she replied.  It was only later that everyone learned that Gordon had died that weekend.  Only Jim Hutchinson, with whom she shared most of her scenes, knew of Gordon’s death.  She trusted him to help her if she suddenly got lost in the script. She explained later, “I didn’t want to bring the show down.  I didn’t want the show to suffer because of me.”

Director Ray Tatar recalls an actress who was doing a production of “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare” at California Stage.  Just before opening night, her 26 year old brother died.  The actress made the decision to do the performance anyway.  She had the final lines of the play, the “all the world’s a stage” piece, enumerating the 7 stages of man.  “When she got to that speech something came over her and she just started staring off into space,” said Tatar. “The audience waited for a couple of minutes– that’s a long time in a show that moves at a pretty steadfast clip.  It was quiet in the theater.  The audience was reading the reality of her expression.  She finally just fired her way through it to the end.  The audience roared approval as the other actors carried her off.” She finished the run of the play without further problem.

Actor Stephen Peithman’s sister, Ann, died the week before the opening of "Man of La Mancha," produced at UCD in the mid-1970s.  Peithman  played the villain, Dr. Carrasco ("The Knight of the Mirrors") and there were no understudies for any of the parts.

“When my mother called me to tell me that my sister had died after a sudden and virulent recurrence of cancer, she told me not to worry about leaving the show.  In fact, the first words she said, after ‘Your sister died this afternoon’ was ‘And you know she would have wanted you to stay in the show.’

“Actor David de Berry, playing Cervantes, gave me a hug before the show on opening night, and I remember thinking as the opening music began, ‘This is so unreal.’ 

“The show went beautifully, and to this day, I can't listen to the overture from ‘Man of La Mancha’ without thinking first of Ann,” says Peithman.

Sometimes incidents happen on stage and actors have to cope.  Actress Deborah Hammond knows this very well. 

As Patty in “You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown,” Hammond and another actor were fighting over a pencil in a scene.  The pencil was oversized, made from a large dowel.  Hammond’s blocking was to snatch the pencil from the other actor’s hand, the other actor still had quite a grip on it and when he released it the pencil  jabbed her in the eyebrow and caused a gash.  She finished the show before heading to the hospital.

In another situation, while in the role of Madame Arcati in Noel Coward’s “Blithe Spirit,” Hammond flung herself backwards, as directed, and experienced stabbing pain in her abdomen.  She completed the final act and went straight from the theater into emergency surgery to have her gallbladder removed.  (Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to finish the run.)

While playing Muzzy Van Hossmere in Runaway Stage’s production of “Thoroughly Modern Millie,” Hammond left the stage to complete a quick costume change.  She ended up falling down a small flight of stairs, head first, to the dressing room.  Other actors tried to sit her down and examine her; but she made her change and returned to the stage.  When the other actress entered the scene she was thrown a bit by the blood trickling down the side of Hammond’s face.  She managed to complete the performance and the run of the show

Patrick Van was set to appear in Davis Musical Theater Company’s recent “Kiss Me Kate,” when the week before the show opened he was hospitalized with suspected H1N1 (it turned out just to be the regular flu).  Van was released from the hospital in the late afternoon of opening night, went home to shower, and went to the theater. “I asked the director if any of my blocking had changed and asked my fellow cast members to nudge me if I looked confused. I knew that I just needed to pull things together for three hours and then I could sleep all the next day.”

Jennifer Teal remembers tearing her anterior cruciate ligament during ski camp a week before Acme’s “Time and the Conways.” “As long as I didn’t straighten my leg, I could still walk on it,” she says. Patrick Van remembers that “she would walk around the stage and stand behind a couch so she could support herself.  Her knee would pop out every once in awhile.” Teal adds, “We postponed surgery until the week after the show.  It was a valuable experience in terms of keeping commitments.”

Local singer/actress Lenore Heinson (in the days when she was Lenore Turner) didn’t let a little thing like pregnancy keep her from performing the title role in “Countess Maritza,” with San Francisco’s Lamplighters.  She was in her first trimester of pregnancy during rehearsals and was sleepy most of the time.  Someone drove her from Davis to San Francisco each night so she could sleep in the car, get out, sparkle during rehearsal and then sleep all the way back to Davis again.

By the time the show opened, the pregnancy started to show and the costumers had to find ways to expand her costume to keep up with her expanding girth.  She was double-cast in the role, and eventually had to leave the last two weekends to the other Maritza when it became impossible to hide the pregnancy any longer.

Sometimes an actor simply can’t perform and others are grabbed at the last minute to fill in, with little or no rehearsal.  Jason Hammond recalls, “One year, at Christmas time, I got a call to fill in for an actor who had been cast in a movie and had to go into production immediately.  The director asked me to learn the role of Tom Jenkins in “Scrooge the Musical,” to be performed the next evening…so I began memorizing.  Several hours later, the director called again and informed me that he had been mistaken -- it wasn’t the actor playing Tom Jenkins who was leaving the cast, but his twin brother who played the role of Harry, Scrooge’s nephew.  Needless to say, I had no sleep that night!”

In 1993, Adam Wright, playing Orlando, in Acme Theater Company’s production of  “As You Like It” came down with pneumonia during tech week. The Stage Manager, Andrew Hendrix, stepped in and played the role for three of the four performances. Andrew was off book by the second night.

In 1997, Qasim Shah, cast in Acme’s “Emma's Child,” took his own life only weeks before the show was to open. Evan Drane stepped in and did a remarkable job, as did the entire cast, considering the circumstances. “It was one of the most difficult moments of my life,” remembers director Dave Burmester.

During the Davis Comic Opera Company’s first production of “A Little Night Music,” Myrna Woodhead missed the second act because she went to the ER with food poisoning. Myrna was part of the quintet. "Sandra Silva sang Myrna's lyrics, and everyone else just did what was needed to make the new configuration workable," says Stephen Peithman.

Theater people pull together during times of crisis and accomplish amazing things.

California Stage was doing an out of town production of “Real Women have Curves.”  The set consisted of a number of flats but when the tech crew went to put the set together, they discovered they had left the crucial piece that holds it all together back in Sacramento.  One technician told another to hold the set upright while he went to find something to make it all work.  It turns out he drove an hour back to Sacramento to get the missing piece, leaving the original technician holding the set upright for 40 minutes while the first act went on.  (At intermission they found something backstage that would support the set.)

During the run of the Davis Comic Opera Company’s 10th anniversary show, the tech crew arrived at the Veterans Memorial Theater at 2:30 in order to get ready for the 4:00 matinee, only to find an inch of water on the stage and two inches in the pit. (The drain outside had backed up causing the water to come in under the door, across the stage and into the pit) “The pit water was not only messy; it was dangerous because of the electrical necessities there,” recalls Nancianne Pfister.  “Our gallant technical crew spent the next hours quite literally bailing us out.  The show opened only 12 minutes late.”

Directors aren’t immune either. “I had emergency heart surgery on the eve of tech week of ‘The Water Children,’” explains Burmester.  “Tom (Burmester) and Emily (Henderson) shepherded the show through dress rehearsals. I remember telling the doctor that I couldn't have surgery. ‘I have a show opening in nine days.’ His response: ‘That's okay. You'll be able to see the show.’ And I did. Before that, though, on opening night after the show, the whole cast came over to our house to give us a blow-by-blow of a great first night. I had just gotten out of the hospital, and it was one of the best nights of my whole life.”

Bob Bowen remembers “When I was producing and directing Nutcracker somewhere about 1981 or 1982, I got the flu. I was really ill and also lost my voice. Instead of staying home and resting, I strapped on a portable P.A. speaker and dragged myself down to the theater to make sure the show went on.”

Theater people are strange creatures, but they are very aware of their commitment to the audience, to give them the best possible performance–no matter what. “Even if you’re injured, once you’re in that zone of being in a show when the lights are on, you get such an adrenalin rush Your body forgets that your head hurts or you have a sore throat,” says Patrick Van.

The show must go on because there are no other options.  Theater folks are masters at improvisation and last-minuteness, They dream the impossible dream, so the show goes on.

Kiss Me Kate

Marguerite Morris has a role to really sink her teeth into.

Her Lilli Vanessi/Katharine in the Davis Musical Theatre Company's production of 'Kiss Me Kate,' directed by Rand Martin, may be one of the best roles I've seen her embrace.

This is another strong showing by DMTC, boasting an outstanding cast, good tones from the orchestra, fun period apparel by costumer Jean Henderson, and Martin's eye-catching choreography.

'Kiss Me Kate' is the story of a touring Shakespeare Company that's presenting Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew.' Despite their acrimonious divorce, a spark obviously still flares between Lilli and ex-husband Fred (Martin Lehman), which erupts into a full-fledged on-stage conflagration in the middle of Act 1, and threatens to close the show.

Morris and Lehman are superb. Their feelings for each other, both positive and negative, sizzle on stage. Both Lilli and her character, Katharine, have fiery temperaments; the actress gives this full rein in her rendition of 'I Hate Men.'

Lehman is a take-charge guy with an ex-wife he obviously still loves, and a girl on the side he's trying to woo, yet his sensitivity spills out in his 'So in Love.' As Petruchio, his 'Where Is the Life that Once I led?' is outstanding.

Mariana Seda is irresistible as Lois Lane, playing the role of Bianca in the play within the play. She's in love with Bill (Chris Petersen), but is a gold-digger who can't keep away from other men; despite this, as she tells Bill, she's 'Always True to You (in My Fashion).'

Petersen, a man in love, also has a gambling problem. (This problem, merely a ruse to add two additional characters to the plot, never is taken all that seriously.)

Steve Isaacson plays Gen. Harrison Howell, Lilli's fiancé, a domineering military man who is more Petruchio than Petruchio himself. I sometimes forget what a really good singing voice Isaacson has, and this show is a good reminder.

Stealing the show, in roles designed to steal the show, are Kyle Hadley and Giorgio Selvaggio, known as 'Gangster 1' and 'Gangster 2': thugs trying to collect a debt. Both are hilarious and their 'Brush Up Your Shakespeare' stops the show for several well-deserved encores.

Patrick Van plays Paul, a role that has no function in either the story of Fred and Lilli or Katharine and Petruchio, but provides an excuse for a great dance number, 'Too Darn Hot.' This opens Act 2, and Van truly sizzles. Despite having spent the week before opening night in a hospital, Van showed no hint of any physical ailment and was a standout in all his scenes.

Mary Young, as Hattie, is paired with Van for both of his two big numbers. Young, whose performances span almost the complete history of DMTC, shows that she still has the energy to keep up with the company's younger members.

Martin's set design is simple and utilitarian, although some of the wagons could have been anchored a bit better, as one behaved like a snowboard when a character leaped up on it.

The lighting design is by Greg Wershing, who started designing here in Davis in his teens, went on to travel the world with the likes of Neil Diamond, Madonna and Garth Brooks, and now has returned to Davis; his children have joined DMTC's Young People's Theatre division. DMTC is fortunate to have the talented Wershing back in their ranks.

'Kiss Me Kate' has lots of references that date the piece, and no woman is ever happy when Katharine subjugates herself to Petruchio; all that said, this production offers patrons a rollicking good time.

Fuddy Meers

'Stability is a fragile figurine,' says Richard (Matt Kronzer), as he tries to help his amnesiac wife Claire (Sarah Stockdale) make sense of her life.

Claire suffers from a form of psychogenic amnesia, where she wakes each morning knowing nothing, and spends the day learning about her life. She's helped by a book Richard has put together, to let her know how to find her way around the house, and who she's likely to meet each day.

It sounds like a spin-off of the film '50 First Dates,' or perhaps a riff on 'Groundhog Day.'

David Lindsay-Abaire's play, with the odd title of 'Fuddy Meers,' has been mounted by Studio 301 Productions, under the direction of Gia Battista.

The play continues through Sunday in the Art Annex of UCD's Technocultural Studies Building. Curtain times are 8 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday, and 6 p.m. Sunday. Admission will be $10 general and $8 students at the door. For additional information, call (818) 251-6654.

The first challenge is to find the Art Annex. This can be a challenge for those not familiar with the UC Davis campus, especially since no helpful signs (or lights!) are present, at least not until you've just about arrived.

But this is a fun play, so do make the effort.

The nearby parking lot is well illuminated, and doors covered with black garbage bags have arrows that point to the correct door. The room is set up for 100 people, but only 15 of us were in attendance last week, on opening night; this is a shame, because the play is worth seeing.

Stockdale is a wonderful choice for Claire. Her face radiates innocence, first in the confusion of discovering that she doesn't have a clue who she is, and subsequently as she gradually learns things about her life from Richard, who may or may not be her husband.

But could she possibly have given birth to the sullen, stoned young woman named Kenny (Ashley Bargenquast)?

'How much did she weigh at birth?' Claire asks, as if trying to find some sort of maternal feeling for the girl.

David Lutheran plays the odd, deformed, lisping 'Limping Man,' who insists he is Claire's brother Zack, come to save her from 'Evil Richard.' Claire and Zack escape and go to the home of her mother, Gertie (Alison Stevenson), a stroke victim whose partial facial paralysis and impaired speech make it impossible for her to be understood. Despite this, she frantically tries to tell Claire things about her life.

Stevenson carries off the role brilliantly, and is very funny to boot.

Zack's crony is the mild-mannered Millet (Gordon Meacham), who comes with a foul-mouthed, alter-ego sock puppet dubbed 'Hinky Binky.' The puppet's stabbing, late in the play, is almost as touching as it is funny, given Millet's reaction to the assault on his long-time companion.

A policewoman (Steph Hankinson) adds another layer of confusion, as we realize that many in this cast aren't who they claim to be. The confused Claire slowly sorts them out, one by one, as her mother finds a way to make her message understood.

Claire knows one thing for certain: She likes to solve find-a-word puzzles, a hobby she embraces as a kind of grounding mechanism. She's delighted when she finds the word 'kiwi' on her own, without any assistance.

And this is what 'Fuddy Meers' is all about: finding words in a puzzle book, trying to decipher a mother's 'stroke speak,' looking for clues in a box of old photographs, registering random sparks of memory. Claire's life is a mystery, and she must try to sort it all out from the available clues.

But will she remember tomorrow?

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.

Rent

From the ovation that went up from the Sacramento Community Center audience, as the actors took the stage for the opening performance of the Broadway tour of 'Rent,' and the tumultuous applause that greeted the first few notes of many songs, it was obvious that 'Rent-heads' had turned out in force for this production.

And were ecstatic to be there.

It's tragic that composer/lyricist Jonathan Larson never lived to see the phenomenon that 'Rent' has become. He died of aortic dissection caused by Marfan's syndrome on the morning of Jan. 25, 1996; the show opened for its off-Broadway run that night.

'Rent' played to sold-out houses, and its run was extended until April 1996, when it moved to the larger Nederlander Theater; it subsequently became the eighth-longest running show in Broadway history, and grossed more than $280 million.

It won every major best musical award, including the Tony, as well as the Pulitzer Prize for drama.

Tours of 'Rent' have criss-crossed the country almost continuously since late 1996. It has been translated into every major language and performed on six continents. The show had such a loyal following in New York that the term 'Renthead' came to be used to describe fans who would line up for hours in advance, just to get the $20 rush tickets; they subsequently boasted of having seen the show dozens of times.

One obsessed fan claims to have seen it more than 1,100 times during its 12-year run.

'Rent' is an updated version of Puccini's opera, 'La Boheme,' the music from which is played in brief interludes throughout the show. It tells the story of a group of impoverished young artists and musicians who struggle to survive and create in New York's Lower East Side, under the shadow of AIDS, at a time when drugs are plentiful.

The building in which they've been living has been sold along with the lot next door, which is inhabited by a group of homeless people. The new owner plans to clear the homeless off the land and evict the tenants from the building, so he can erect a high-tech cyber arts studio.

The people stage a protest; a riot erupts.

How the tenants break back into the building, and then spend the rest of their year, is the substance of the story.

This touring Broadway production features a stellar cast, starting with Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal, who created the roles of filmmaker Mark Cohen and songwriter Roger Davis, respectively, in the original 1996 production. Now, 13 years later, the actors have returned to the show, along with Gwen Stewart, the featured soloist in the haunting 'Seasons of Love.'

The actors may be 13 years older, but they still bring the necessary youthful, idealistic enthusiasm to their roles.

Justin Johnson, who performed in 'Rent's' final night on Broadway, is the heart and soul of this production. He plays Angel Schunard, a gay drag queen dying of AIDS. Johnson is tender during his love scenes with Tom Collins (Michael McElroy), and deliciously outrageous in his dance numbers.

As for McElroy, his tender ministrations to Angel, during his final days, will break your heart.

Lexi Lawson, one of the few cast members new to her role, plays Mimi, an exotic dancer and drug addict who contracts HIV.

Nicolette Hart, as Mark's former lover Maureen Johnson, does amazing things in tight, shiny, electric-blue pants.

Maureen is bisexual; her girlfriend, Joanne Jefferson (Trisha Jeffrey), is a powerhouse of a rabble-rousing attorney.

From the speed with which the cheering audience leaped to its feet, as the show concluded, it's safe to say that this production more than satisfied the Rentheads.

And it probably won over a lot more converts to the cult following, as well.

Tuesdays with Morrie

It is crucial for actors to be utterly believable when performing a show like “Tuesdays with Morrie,” Jeffrey Hatcher and Mitch Albom’s adaption of Albom’s best selling book, especially when performing in an intimate setting such as Sacramento Theater Company’s small Pollock Theater. Aaron Wilton (Mitch) and David Silberman (Morrie) succeed beautifully.

Aided by Matt K. Miller’s crisp direction, STC’s “Tuesdays with Morrie” is a show that will grab every heart and that should come with little packages of tissues on each seat. I didn’t see a dry eye in the house (including, in some spots, the actors themselves).

For those unfamiliar with the story, Morrie Schwartz was a sociology professor at Brandeis University, who came into national prominence when he was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), also known as Lou Gehrig's Disease, in 1994. The charismatic, if irascible, Schwartz was interviewed several times by ABC’s Ted Koppel (“Nightline”). The broadcasts brought his former student, Mitch Albom, now a sports writer for the Detroit Free Press, back into his old professor’s life.

It was guilt that drew Albom to make a quick courtesy call on his old “Coach,” but the camaraderie between the two was rekindled, and Albom returned the following Tuesday and every Tuesday thereafter. He taped the conversations between himself and the dying man, recording his thoughts on life–and on death. The recordings eventually became the best selling book and spawned several other best selling books by Albom, examining life and the afterlife. The original book also became a made-for-television movie, with Jack Lemmon playing Morrie and Hank Azaria as Mitch.

The play is set in Morrie’s Waltham, Massachusetts living room, designed by Jarrod Bodensteiner and Morgan McCarthy. The room is a testament to Morrie’s minimalist lifestyle, with the walls painted a 1950s green and the furnishings kept to a bare minimum–a recliner and a few books on a shelf. He refers to an unseen television, the original black and white, purchased many years before. He speaks of the irrelevance of “things” and the importance of people.

Stage Manager Suzanne Tyler (who also gives the pre-show talk) helps move bits of scenery around and also acts as the nurse, ministering to the dying man (putting on slippers, moving him into a hospital bed, etc.)

Erik Daniells is credited with the piano recordings used throughout several scenes.

I will admit to having some problems with this play that should do nothing to take away from the actual production or the fine job done by two veteran actors. I loved Albom’s book, but I found that the play seems to concentrate more on Mitch than on Morrie and it is only in the last few scenes where Mitch does not come across as self-centered and a bit obnoxious, a feeling I did not get from the book itself.

Aaron Wilton handles the slow transformation of Mitch as he helplessly watches his dying friend beautifully.

As for David Silberman, he is a delight to watch and so fully embodied Morrie Schwartz that I was moved to come home and check out excerpts of the Koppel interviews on YouTube to see the real man for myself..

Schwartz lays out his five rules for living which include (among many other things) "keep an open heart. Open it up further and further and further until you encompass as much as you can with your love." He also advises people to "be alert and aware to the things that interest you and then go for it. Be involved."

Hopefully that will be the message that people will take away from this production, once they have dried their eyes and blown their noses.

THIRD eYE Festival

If a central theme runs through this year's THIRDeYE Theater Festival, taking place through this weekend at UC Davis' Wyatt Pavilion, it might be 'I see dead people.'

Isaac - all three of him - sees his dead mother. Jaime sees his dead grandfather. Paul sees Hemingway and Hitler in a bathing suit.

This annual festival showcases the work of three undergraduate playwrights and three undergraduate directors, and allows the students to apply to the stage what they have learned in class. This year's festival is under the artistic curatorship of Peter Lichtenfels, and the plays themselves were developed in Philip Kan Gotanda's playwriting class in the fall quarter of 2008.

'The Blue Jay's Song,' written by Daniel Jordan and directed by William MacInnis, came out of the former's own romantic crisis; the play illuminates the rebirth that comes with the death of loved ones and the loss of relationships.

The character of Isaac is shown as a split personality, with Mark Curtis Ferrando as the central figure; Micah Shyuh and Juan Gallardo represent different portions of his emotions. Gallardo (Isaac 2) is the more angry, while Shyuh (Isaac 1) is the more peaceful and loving of the emotions.

Isaac lost his mother early, and his search to understand that loss has affected his life, especially his current relationship with Elizabeth (Monica Ammerman). The two fight and make up in confusing ways, the underlying cause not always apparent to the audience.

The circus atmosphere of Isaac's emotional life is represented by a ringmaster ('circus conductor') played by Jordan himself, accompanied by a juggler (Alexander Weston) and contortionist (Megan Vaughan). They're accompanied by dancers Sasha Hao, Jenny Giles and Elizabeth Tremain.

Malia Abayon plays the ghost of Isaac's mother; she gives an exceptional performance that adds depth to the production.

A lighting designer once told me that the key to good lighting design is that it be so seamlessly integrated into the action that it remains unnoticed. If that is the case, designer Robert Quiggle has some 'splaining to do, because his lighting choices are often odd; they left me wondering why he did such-and-such, rather than concentrating on the flow of the play itself.

Kristopher Ide's 'Fools Afloat' is directed by Olufunmilayo Alabi. This play also derived from the playwright's personal experience: in this case, the death of his father.

Brendan Ward gives an impassioned performance as a man struggling to come to grips with his father's death. This struggle takes him on an imagined boat ride with Ernest Hemingway (Christopher Mantione) and a unique vision of Adolf Hitler (Ryan Geraghty), in an old-fashioned bathing suit. (Kudos to costume designer Diego Suazo-Vacarezza.)

The cast also includes Gillian Heitmen, as Paul's girlfriend Francesca, and Thomas Barrack, as Francesca's former boyfriend John.

As Paul takes his imagined trip with Hemingway and Hitler, he pulls the unraveled bits of his life back together again; he's able to return with a greater understanding of himself and an ability to move forward in his relationship with Francesca.

Fourth-year psychology and dramatic art double-major Jazz Trice wrote and gives a very strong performance in 'Empty All the Boxes,' directed by Natasha Cooke.

Trice's character, Jaime, has been having visions of his grandfather as a young man (Gordon Meacham), and can't quite understand what this means. Jaime's attempt to share his experience with his sister, Nicki (the effervescent Sophiana Carrell), underlines the difficulties in their sibling relationship.

When their parents (Stephanie Moore and Kristopher Ide) return home, it becomes obvious that this family has a lot of relationship problems. Communication doesn't happen in this house. Can Grandpa's ghostly visits help break down walls when a potential health crisis erupts?

'This play drives and asks questions that are uncomfortable,' Cooke explains. 'It reveals reality and truth, and sheds humanity amongst those searching.'