Written by Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows with music and lyrics by Frank Loesser, Guys and Dolls is an adaptation of short stories written by Damon Runyon. Set in New York, the musical chronicles the lives of gamblers, dancers, and even missionaries. The production premiered on Broadway in 1950 and won a Tony Award for Best Musical. A film adaptation starring Frank Sinatra, Marlon Brando, and Jean Simmons premiered in 1955.

Playing the shifty, albeit redeemable, Nathan Detroit, Spencer Loessberg instantly proved himself a strong male lead. His vocal abilities were very solid and his chemistry with Miss Adelaide was hilariously believable with all of their heated squabbles. Speaking of the night singer, Abby Rozmajzl played the spunky Hot Box star to perfection. Her belting abilities were incredible and every twitch of the eyebrow and squeak of the voice was done with flawless comedic timing.

With equal leading stage time and magnetic charisma, Jacob Rozmajzl played the freewheeling Sky Masterson. Trapped into a bet that he couldn’t get a missionary sister out to dinner, Sky’s goal to charm the uptight Sarah Brown quickly unraveled as he found himself falling for her. Rozmajzl’s singing abilities were on par with those of professional performers. He was always quietly engaged on stage and had a presence that could not be ignored, and to his immense credit was impeccably consistent with his old New York style accent. Sarah Brown (Caleigh Davis) had just the right amount of sweetness to her and her gentle soprano voice suited the role perfectly.

Other standouts of the night included Big Jule (Joey Arzeno) the intimidating gangster from Chicago who had excellent deadpan lines, an intimidating presence, and a memorable straddle jump over Nathan in a men’s dance number. Nicely Nicely Johnson (J.J. Cummings) was also a crowd favorite with his flustered sincerity juxtaposing his gambler’s status. His shining moment came in “Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat” where he proved himself an accomplished vocalist. The male ensemble as a whole was incredibly impressive with their commitment to lively characters and constant engagement on stage.

“Call it sad, call it funny. But it’s better than even money, that the guy’s only doing it for some doll.” Wedding bells rung and the card decks were pocketed in the end when it seemed, as it often does, that the dolls did the real work. With contagious enthusiasm and stand out vocalists, the Paul the VI Catholic High School players had lady luck (and a lot of hard work) on their side. This show is one that’ll leave you ringing like a bell and humming right along, you can bet on it.

by Emilia Brennan of Oakton High School

Photo Gallery

Max Snyder, Spencer Loessberg, JJ Cummings	Caleigh Davis, Jacob Rozmajzl
Abby Rozmajzl, Spencer Loessberg

Photos by Paul VI Catholic High School

Hub Theatre’s production of Failure: A Love Story by Philip Dawkins continues the Hub’s winning tradition of producing shows that are singular, artistically fanciful, and acted with heart and intelligence. In this case, it is “a play with a lot of death, that so wholly celebrates life (and that’s not a spoiler, it is the very reason for the story)” as Hub Artistic Director Helen Pafumi wrote in her program notes.

Failure: A Love Story is a mischievous 90-minute, one-act about love, family, and melancholy all underpinned with live and recorded tunes of the 1920’s. It is far from gloomy, constructed as it is with brightly animated visual features and fast-talking characters to go along with its ultimately life-affirming message. Failure: A Love Story received its world premiere at Victory Gardens Theater, Chicago in 2012. Dawkins teaches playwriting at Northwestern University.

One way to describe the overall production is to think of it as an episode of public radio’s “This American Life” with its first person narrative. In the case of Failure: A Love Story, the narrative is “I don’t know why anything happens the way it does” as one of the characters states. The play generally takes place in the 1920’s in Chicago, near the Chicago River. It is a ultimately a memory play of the young man who unexpectedly finds his way under the three Fail sisters’ spell of warm domesticity.

The Fail family lives in a wobbly world in which the unexpected regularly happens. It is a world where a character will say “never saw it coming” and the audience nods in silent agreement, knowing that untimely death from various means is what the play is about. Well, so it is on its surface.

Under director Matt Bassett’s guidance, the actors can be highly stylized in presentation, often enough presenting their dialogue through a snappy manner. The actors speak not only with their voices but with vigorous facial, and especially eye, expressions, that add emphasis to the dialogue. They often act as live props using physicality to provide fascinating sound effects for added pop. The ensemble often find themselves as inanimate objects like clocks and appliances, as well as playful presentations of family pets including a snake, a dog and a couple of chipper, chirping parakeets.

The ensemble gives each character a colorful, clear personality and easy-to-read manners. The cast includes Michael Kevin Darnall as the charismatic, wide-eyed Mortimer Mortimer, the man who unexpectedly finds his way into the Fail family clock shop. Over the course of the play, Darnal becomes the fixed, standing, May pole that others dance around. Yet he is a befuddled soul trying to understand what is before him. He may know business and be a success, but the women in the Fail family are another matter.

The three sisters are Gerty, the eldest Fail sister, played by Carolyn Kasner. She is the business-oriented of the trio. Kasner gives off a steadfast protective quality moving and speaking with a deliberate pace. Jenny June is the tom-boyish, boundary-pushing middle Fail sister. The role is played with great charm and open-armed whimsy by Tia Shearer. Maggie Erwin is Nellie, the youngest Fail sister. Erwin is ever buoyant, highly- spirited with a effervescent smile that says “I want to experience life, right now!”

Chris Stinson is the reclusive, but weirdly-likeable brother John N. Fail. Stinson performs with a droll manner. His dialogue delivery may remind you of David Sedaris when he tells radio stories. His physical mannerism remind may remind you of earl Christopher Walken. Rose McConnell is the Gramaphone; a vital, delightful role in the hands of the right actor. McConnell is just that; she is a whoop in the way she presents herself as clocks, animals and as the live pianists. She doesn’t take away from those in the foreground of the play, but your eyes will track on her expressive movements and abilities to make percussive rhythms.

Betsy Muller’s scenic design imaginatively uses the theater’s diminutive stage space ably. There are small trunks, several tables and an upright piano that provide what the imagination needs to fill in detailed scenery. The Chicago River is well-represented by a movable painted three-panel display.

The play includes a spiffy sound design with some musical compositions by Patrick Calhoun. Preshow music includes Billie Holliday’s “In My Solitude,” and Hoagy Carmichael’s “Stardust.” During the production itself there is a score of eight songs that enhance the script’s word play. One song, “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love” is played several times moving through arrangements including a jaunty version to one that is in a minor, sorrowful key. Critical and live clock-like sound effects are made by the actors using their voices, wooden mallets and an assortment of whistles and toys. These sounds become percussive rhythm to illuminate the sense of time moving ever forward.

Maria Vetsch’s costumes must have been a joy to find in the local consignment shops and borrowings. The outfits include a flowery drop-waist dress, a practical woman’s two-piece swim suit, topped with a delightful pink swim cap, and a no-nonsense woman’s suit with ever so sensible shoes.

There are a number of items that could use the playwright’s tightening. First, the play wraps up rather quickly. Then something akin to an afterword to the main action is tacked on to further explain things from the long-lived Mortimer Mortimer’s critical perspective. The early part of the script takes its time creating a back story for the Fail Family that doesn’t add much juice to the production’s energy. Nelly, the first sister’s death, takes a bit of time to appear. Jenny June, the second sister to pass away, takes a shorter amount of time, while Gerty’s passing happens in a flash. It is a trajectory like snow moving downhill into an avalanche picking up speed along the way.

When attending a Hub production, a DC-area audience can reliably know it will witness a smart, literate production of a rarely known playwright or play. As Hub Artistic Director Pafumi told your reviewer, “I adore plays that leave you with a pang of joy and pain, that are bittersweet to the core.”

Failure: A Love Story is ultimately a reflective, stylish production on the randomness of life and death. “I don’t know why anything happens the way it does” is how one characters puts it. But, it is a reflection not of despair or failure but of life as “a big success” using John N’s view of the happenings.

As the play reaches its conclusion, Mortimer Mortimer asks himself and us, “How do you go on?” when something bad happens. Do you just wish to hide under the covers or try to go back in time to relog to make a different stop point? Then there is the Fail family approach of acceptance of what “is.” Tell everyone you ever loved this: “Tell them I’m on my way.”

Photo Gallery

Michael Kevin Darnall, Tia Shearer and Carolyn Kashner	Maggie Erwin
Maggie Erwin, Tia Shearer, and Chris Stinson	Michael Kevin Darnall, Tia Shearer
Tia Shearer and Maggie Erwin	Carolyn Kashner, Tia Shearer, Michael Kevin Darnall, and Maggie Erwin

Photos by C. Stanley Photography

Cast

• Mortimer: Michael Kevin Darnall
• Gerty: Carolyn Kasner
• Jenny June: Tia Shearer
• Nelly: Maggie Erwin
• John N.: Chris Stinson
• Gramaphone: Rose McConnell

Artistic and Design Team

• Director: Matt Bassett
• Scenic Designer: Betsy Muller
• Lighting Designer: Catherine Girardi
• Sound Design and Composition: Patrick Calhoun
• Costume Design: Maria Vetsch
• Props Design: Suzanne Maloney
• Stage Manager: Keta Newborn
• Technical Designer: Christian Sullivan

Disclaimer: Hub Theatre provided two complimentary media tickets to ShowBizRadio for this review.

Nature is showing such wrath to humanity; and playwright David Yee brings the personal losses, costs and hopes into a stark, somber play; carried away on the crest of a wave [sic]. The play, now at the Hub Theatre in its U.S. première, investigates what happens to the survivors of a calamity; the massive 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. Last week’s Typhoon Haiyan that struck the Philippines was certainly on your reviewer’s mind as well.

carried away on the crest of a wave is based upon Yee’s interviews with survivors of the Indian Ocean tsunami. He distilled the interviews into a 100 minute, no intermission drama composed of separate stories entwined with quick interludes as the scenes change. Yee is an actor and currently the artistic director of the fu-Gen Theatre Company, Canada’s only professional Asian Canadian Theatre company, which he also co-founded.

carried away is a most ambitious work. As directed by Helen Pafumi, the show is poignant and unrelenting. You cannot turn-away as it unfolds. This is no undemanding evening that lightly glosses over pain or the aftermath debates, both secular and faith-based, about responsibility for nature’s unexpected fury. It aims to be, and is, a deep immersion into wounded people dealing with their vexing issues of survival. That the production comes just a week after Typhoon Haiyan’s massive destruction gives it just that more universal relevance.

The scenic design (Robbie Hayes) brings the audience into the center of a beaten down world. As the audience sits down, there are objects floating from the high ceiling like so much flotsam and jetsam and debris piles on the floor. The soundscape (Matthew Nielson) has NPR news voices crackling like so many walkie-talkies and the constant sounds of waves. A sea-foam green lighting (Jimmy Lawlor) comes through a large shattered glass wall. It is the impact of the tsunami that the audience feels.

The cast of six throw themselves into the multiple roles they perform over the eight or so vignettes. Each actor has a moment in the spotlight. The cast includes professional acting veterans; Nora Achrati, Edward Christian, Andrew Ferlo, Rafael Sebastian Medina, and Ryan Sellers as well as Hedy Hosford, a nine-year old who has studied at the Academy of Fine Arts (Gaithersburg) and the Synetic Theatre.

The scenes range in impact and execution. Not all hit the mark. An opening vignette has a man and a woman trying to save their house from sinking by throwing all manner of personal possessions into the surrounding sea. It soon becomes a mythology tale about the sea turtle that supports the world that must be placated. There is a heated faith debate between on a Catholic priest and a Muslim scientist sent by the Vatican to investigate a possible miracle. A handshake ends the scene, but it is not one of real resolution.

There is an arresting scene about a father in a 4 1/2 year black hole of depression after the loss of his daughter. The black hole is a physical thing. He is simply unwilling and unready to come back up into the light of day even when offered a helping hand from his daughter’s boyfriend who came to rescue him.

There were several scenes that had more resonance to your reviewer. A woman (Nora Achrati) has abducted an orphan to “replace” the son she lost to the tsunami. It has taken the FBI (Edward Christian) four years to discover what she has done. What will the agent do with the information? Will he let her go? And whose side would you be on?

A young orphan girl (Hedy Hosford) has been rescued by a grumpy, hardboiled man (Andrew Ferlo) who is not in-tune with children. But when she gives him a hug of thanks, he slowly melts in a most understated manner, without making a sound. Hope is alive.

Radio shock jock (Edward Christian) wants to wake up his audience with a comic song about the tsunami. Is it too soon? Radio management thinks so. Others (Andrew Ferlo and Ryan Sellers) are not so sure. You hear the ironic song which brings back memories of the sharp tongues of Lenny Bruce, Louis C.K. or Howard Stern to name a few. You can decide for yourself its appropriateness.

And, there is a most poignant scene from which the play title comes, carried away on the crest of a wave. It is just such a totally heartbreaking piece of theater both in concept and acting. How does a middle-aged man (Edward Christian) deal with the loss of his wife to the tsunami? What does he most remember of her? And why does he open up with the most intimate of details to Jasmine, an escort (Nora Achrati) of all people. It builds from nothing into a scene of unexpected tenderness in a final action to bring the man the relief he seeks.

carried away on the crest of a wave is most certainly not a light evening out. It is very earnest in its depiction of darkness and despair. With its understandable unrelenting nature, pruning the “talkiness” of several scenes to make them more compact short stories will bring a greater impact; so audiences do that tune-out from the real pain they witness.

The Hub Theatre deserves kudos for its continuing flair in finding overlooked new theater works and playwrights. The workmanship and care of Hub productions along with its willingness to take risks is a wonder. The Hub, a small budget theater company, is building a well-deserved reputation for both quality and consistency.

Finally, Yee may want his audience to believe that even in tragedy and at the saddest moments, no one has to be alone; there can be someone around for them. That we are all connected. He suggests that in the last story that closes the play. As a line from the carried away production goes “maybe you are right, but not today.”

Photo Gallery

Rafael Sebastian Medina and Nora Achrati as Swimmer and Runner	Ryan Sellers and Nora Achrati as Amal and Virgin Mary
Ed Christian, Andrew Ferlo and Rafael Sebastian Medina as Rick, Chili and Sanjay	Hedy Hosford and Andrew Ferlo as Orphan Girl and Hardboiled Man
Andrew Ferlo and Ryan Sellers as Vermin and Diego	Ed Christian, Hedy Hosford, Andrew Ferlo, Ryan Sellers, Nora Achrati, and Rafael Sebastian Medina

Photos by Melissa Blackall

Cast

• Nora Achrati: Beckett, Runner, Jasmine, Lenore
• Rafael Sebastian Medina: Swimmer, Sanjay, Makoto
• Ryan Sellers: Amal, Uncle, Makoto, Diego
• Andrew Ferlo: Ma’mar, Harboiled Man, Vermin
• Ed Christian: Crumb, Rick, Agent Nyguen
• Hedy Hosford: Orphan Girl

Technical Artisans

• Director: Helen Pafumi
• Scenic Design: Robbie Hayes
• Lighting Design: Jimmy Lawlor
• Sound Design: Matthew Nielson
• Costume Design: Madeline Bowden
• Prop Design: Suzanne Maloney
• Stage Manager: Will Pommerening
• Technical Designer: Jason Krznarich
• Master Electrician: Tom Epps

Disclaimer: Hub Theatre provided two complimentary media tickets to ShowBizRadio for this review.

With this weekend’s performances at the George Mason University Center for the Arts, Virginia Opera concluded its presentation of Andre Previn’s adaptation of the classic Tennessee Williams play, A Streetcar Named Desire. (Previous weekends were in Norfolk and Richmond.) The libretto, by Phillip Littell, closely follows Williams’ script.

One of the hoariest of theater clichés is that actors should speak the text while playing the subtext. Previn’s varied music — there are echoes of jazz, Britten, Ives, Puccini, and Broadway in the score, among other things — carries the emotion of the characters’ subtexts to the audience in a particularly direct way. The music conveys, beyond the power of words alone, Blanche’s longing and increasing disorientation, Stanley’s resentment, Stella’s sexuality, and Mitch’s loneliness and need. There are times when the music is the action. Most notably, the agitated sounds in an orchestral interlude provide almost all the feeling in the inertly staged rape scene. (Helfrich’s staging may be ambiguous as to the nature of Stanley’s assault; the music is not.)

Conductor Ari Pelto’s orchestra handles the eclectic score expertly, with tempi and dynamics well suited to balance the singers and to underscore the rapidly changing moods and actions of the characters. There are particularly nice solo moments for flute and trumpet.

Previn gives three of his leads relatively short, but beautifully written, arias. As Blanche, soprano Kelly Cae Hogan lyrically describes Blanche’s philosophy of life in Act 3’s “I Want Magic,” and gives perfect expression of William’s view of the intersection of the Desire and Cemeteries lines in “I Can Smell the Sea Air.” Julia Ebner, as Stella, also a soprano, has a wordless aria in Act 2 that is as good a sung depiction of the liniments of satisfied desire as one can imagine. Finally, as Mitch, tenor Scott Ramsay has a lovely moment at the end of Act 2 as he sings of his hopes for ending his lonely existence through loving Blanche. Of the four major characters, Stanley, played by baritone David Adam Moore, is the only one to whom Previn does not give an aria. This seems a smart choice, as giving Stanley a few minutes of lyric beauty would be difficult to square with his character. All the singers are excellent; there were no evident faults from any of them.

Notwithstanding these moments, the opera is not particularly aria-heavy, with a great deal of sung dialogue, similar to what would find in much of 20th century opera (Streetcar was first performed in 1998). This style relies more heavily on the acting skills of the singers than traditional 19th century pieces, and there is some interesting acting in the production. Moore shows less raw animal magnetism than one often thinks of Stanley as possessing, reducing the character’s sexual power and danger. He wisely underplays the iconic “Stella!” moment. But his Stanley is more intelligent and rational than the norm, even a bit self-aware at times. While a lout who is unconscionably cruel to Blanche, this Stanley’s cruelty stems from a conscious pursuit of his interests as he sees them. Other than Stella, the one woman who might appreciate him is Ayn Rand.

One thoughtful touch that director Sam Helfrich gives Stanley’s characterization is in the first scene, when Stanley appears in full military uniform as Stella describes to Blanche the Master Sergeant in the Army engineers with whom she fell in love. This throws an interpretive shaft of light on Stanley’s pervasive anger. The play takes place in 1947. Like the three main characters in 1946’s The Best Years of their Lives, Stanley has successfully done his part in the biggest, most important event his generation will ever see, and he has been recognized for it with rank and decorations. On top of his existing class resentments, he has returned home to a boring factory job and lives in a downscale part of town. While neither Williams’ script nor Littell’s libretto makes an explicit point of it, his difficulty in making the emotional transition to the quotidian routines of civilian life provides some insight into how he behaves toward Stella and Blanche. No longer a valuable cog in the greatest military machine ever assembled, he at least can be “king” in his own apartment, and – in his mind – justifiably resentful when Blanche invades his domain, even to the point of shutting him out of his own bathroom and forcing him to be quiet during sex.

Physically and vocally (the latter a necessity to carry the musical demands of the role), Hogan is an unusually robust Blanche. Not for her the renowned frailty of Tennessee Williams’ women. Her lies and illusions are the weapons she uses to fight against the cascading series of losses that have marked her life. Even in her ultimate mental breakdown she maintains a kind of dignity as she begins to live full-time in a magic world that will not hurt and betray her as the reality of Laurel, Mississippi, and the Kowalskis’ apartment has done.

Previn and Littell give Stella a lovely device to frame her evolving relationship with Stanley. In Act I, she proclaims her passionately intense, sexual attachment to her husband; she can’t stand to be without him for a night. (In their scenes together, most of the sexual chemistry seems to flow from Ebner rather than Moore.) In Act III, she expresses, using similar music, her intense maternal attachment to her new baby, then sleeping in another apartment until Blanche can be packed off to the asylum. She can’t bear to be without him. In the final scene, Ebner portrays better than I remember from productions of the play I’ve seen Stella’s knowing denial of Stanley’s assault on Blanche. Like her sister, Stella too must begin to live in a world of lies and illusions in order to hold onto what is dearest to her.

Of all the leads, Ramsay is the most perfectly cast. In addition to his musical qualifications, his Mitch becomes a large, shambling, socially awkward fellow, whose sweetness and kinder instincts are never quite a match for his domination by his mother and his peers, particularly Stanley. He genuinely cares for Blanche, and his desolation in the final scene, sitting alone at the table as Blanche is led off by the doctor, is one of the evening’s most moving moments. Stanley, Stella, and Eunice (Martha Gawrysiak in a fine character performance) sit silently on the couch, side-by-side; it is clear that, despite Stanley’s wishes, their lives will also never be the same.

Andromache Chalifant’s set is simple, consisting of a gray room with six doorways surrounding a platform on which sit a kitchen table, sofa, and Blanche’s trunk (representing keys to the characters Stella, Stanley, and Blanche, respectively, in Helfrich’s concept as he has explained it). Helfrich deploys supernumeraries (opera lingo for extras) in the doorways in various scenes to represent servants in Blanche’s imagined Bell Reve or Blanche’s memory of her dead husband and his illicit lover. Lighting designer Aaron Black shines a diffuse swath of light across the stage right portion of the set and illuminates the doorways sometimes in bright white light and other times in softer colors. Black also makes good use of shadows in the main playing area, in tune with Blanche’s preference for darkness, starkly contrasting with situations in which other characters tear a red paper lantern from a light bulb to bathe her in bright, garish light.

In his pre-show talk, Glenn Winters appeared to ask the audience’s patience with what he thought they might think was overly modern, inaccessible music. People who go to see future productions of this opera need not worry. The music is not nearly as strange, and is far more accessible and emotionally direct, than people who know only 18th or 19th century opera might imagine. This was a worthy production of an opera that, like the play upon which it is based, should remain in the active repertory for a long time to come.

Cast

• Blanche DuBois: Kelly Cae Hogan
• Stanley Kowalski: David Adam Moore
• Stella Kowalski: Julia Ebner
• Harold Mitchell: Scott Ramsay
• Eunice Hubbell: Margaret Gawrysiak
• Steve Hubbell: Matthew DiBattista
• A Young Collector: Drew Duncan
• Mexican Woman: Sondra Gelb
• Nurse: Hilary Ginther
• Doctor: Patrick O’Halloran
• Pablo Gonzales: Edward Hanlon

Creative Team

• Conductor: Ari Pelto
• Stage Director: Sam Helfrich
• Scenic Designer: Andromache Chalfant
• Costume Designer: Kaye Voyce
• Lighting Designer: Aaron Black
• Wig And Make Up Designer: James McGough

Disclaimer: George Mason University Center for the Arts provided two complimentary media tickets to ShowBizRadio for this review.