Starting with the 1964 Roald Dahl children’s book and the 1971 movie adaptation starring Gene Wilder, Willy Wonka has been beloved by dentists for five decades now, celebrating as it does the compulsive consumption of cavity-creating confections. The uneven Vienna Theatre Company (VTC) production of the stage musical version retains considerable charm.

The title character, played by Sedrick Moody, is a misanthropic, mysterious candy magnate. Singing winningly and moving beautifully, Moody makes Wonka something of a song and dance man. The device motivating the plot is Wonka’s desire to retire and turn the factory’s operations over to some deserving child. Moody’s Wonka seems rather young to be contemplating retirement, but he nonetheless sets in motion a scheme to put coupons in five candy bars the finders of which will get a free tour of the factory — which otherwise is as closed to outsiders as, say, CIA headquarters — plus a lifetime supply of chocolate. This proves a brilliant marketing ploy, sending sales of his products skyrocketing.

The first four coupons find their way into the hands of a quartet of obnoxious children: Mike Teavee (Tashi Poe), joined at the hip to his electronic devices; Augustus Gloop (Erik Payton, ironically the smallest, slimmest child in the cast), who never stops eating; Violet Beauregarde (Kaia Griggs), a Georgia rich kid addicted to chewing gum; and Veruca Salt (Amelia Lindsey), the most spoiled brat of the lot. Each has a solo acting and/or singing moment to shine, most notably Lindsey in “I Want it Now,” in which she displays a promising belt voice.

The final coupon is found, at the last moment, by the show’s child lead, Charlie Bucket (Adam LeKang). Charlie, a classic “good kid,” lives with his unemployed parents (Alex Graur and Toby Nelson) and highly sedentary grandparents (Emily Franks, Nora Zanger, Joseph LeBlanc, and Bob Maurer) who appear never to leave the cramped bed they share. LeKang sings well, especially in his second act duet with Maurer (“Flying/Burping Song”), and is he able to move (he even taps a bit).

The show runs only two hours, but the pace frequently feels slow. Much of this is built into the structure of the show. When the four grandparents never move from their bed, with other characters sandwiched in behind them, it is hard to avoid their book scenes becoming tediously static. Moreover, the script seems to revel in repetition. LeBlanc’s character is hard-of-hearing, a trait LeBlanc handles very well, with fine energy and timing. But the audience must endure one similar hard-of-hearing joke after another for lengthy stretches of the first act. Likewise, in the second act, the Oompa-Loompas, Wonka’s factory workers (Melissa Handel, Hannah Hess, Mia Parnaby, Faith Skeen, and Kyla Poe), sing essentially the same chorus five times. The Oompa-Loompas’ singing and dancing are well performed. Here, as in other portions of the play, choreographer Rosslyn Fernandez creates movement that the children in the cast can execute but that keeps matters reasonably lively. By the third, fourth, or fifth time through, however, it’s hard to shake a feeling of “been there, done that.”

Generally, the show’s musical score is lackluster. With the exception of the lively “The Candy Man,” well sung by Daniel Marin, the songs, however capably performed by the cast, are readily forgettable. The production’s “musical village” accompanies the singers successfully.

The production makes extensive use of projections (designed by Jon Roberts) and videos. The videos, featuring breathless TV newsman Phineous Trout (Wayne Jacques) interviewing the four obnoxious contest winners and their equally annoying mothers, are among the funniest moments in the show. In the second act, projections representing the interior of the candy factory (picturing moving bubbles and various tinker toy-like pipes for the ingredients, for example) are inventive and effective, though the first act projection of a working-class neighborhood street is often too dim to be seen clearly. Tom Epps’ lighting design is inconsistent, at some points illuminating the action well but at others leaving characters (especially Wonka himself) in overly dim light or partially washing out the projections.

The biggest technical fault of the day involved sound operation. While having the occasional strong moment — the burping for Charlie and his grandfather in act two comes to mind — the soundscape was regularly marred by inconsistent mike levels, late execution of sound cues (Charlie’s father was a noticeable victim of this problem in parts of the first act), distortion, and feedback. Hopefully these problems can be fixed for the production’s final weekend.

The first act set (designed by Leta Fitzhugh) is dominated by a drab room where the Bucket family resides, with one flat that various actors move forward or backward to mark scene changes. The second act set, representing the factory, is appropriately more colorful and fun, featuring a multicolored plastic conduit and see-saw like pieces that Charlie and his grandfather use in “Flying.” A similar point can be made about the costumes (designed by Judy Whelihan, Kati Andersen, and Michael Panganiban). In the first act, the costumes are mostly drab and uninteresting; many of the children appear to be wearing their own clothes, for one thing. In the second act, things become more colorful, with the variously hued Oompa-Loompas (whose costumes appear to be fitted around hula hoops) being a visual high point. Wonka wears a black tux-like outfit and looks good in it.

As a show featuring young actors and based on a well-known children’s book, Willy Wonka is obviously designed to appeal to kids. The children in the audience reacted enthusiastically to much of the show, which is a principal mark of success for such a production.

Director’s Note

Since you are reading the Director’s Note, you wondered why this program has “See Director’s Note” on the “Music Director” line in the Production Team list and has another indication for a “Music Village” with names following it. I’ll explain. For reasons there is no need to get into, the person who was to be the music director for this show let us know that he would be unable to fulfill that commitment the day before auditions for the show. My dear friend, Larry Zimmerman, and Scott Richards, a new friend I made in the course of the previous VTC Show, This, got us through auditions. Larry agreed to continue with the show but he would not be able to take on the full responsibility of music director since he would be unavailable for rehearsals for about a month. We were ready to replace this show with a non-musical or cancel the VTC spring show entirely. Then, my indefatigable producer, Jocelyn Steiner, announced that we WOULD do the show even if it “took a village” to put the music together. My indomitable stage manager, Colleen Stock, reinforced Jocelyn’s vision. I got caught up in their commitment and enthusiasm. The entire design team jumped aboard the “village” bandwagon and we vowed that we would bring this show to the stage. We asked all of the music directors we knew-and some we didn’t know-if anyone could step in. But it was a very last minute request and music directors are booked at least a year in advance. Everyone was already involved in a show or exhausted from a show just completed. Beth Atkins, a fine music director in her own right, had been on board to help with Willy Wonka from the beginning and agreed to continue with the show but was unable to take on the full job of music director. Francine Krasowska, another great music director, also agreed to help out. Led by these three stars, the cast, crew and design team became the village that has indeed brought life to Willy Wonka. It has been an extraordinary experience and is a testament to commitment, creativity and plain, old hard work on everyone’s part. Enjoy the show-it has taken a village of dedicated people to make the magic happen!

Photo Gallery

Bob Maurer as Grandpa Joe, Toby Nelson as Mrs. Bucket, Nora Zanger as Grandma Josephine, Emily Franks as Grandma Georgina, Adam LeKang as Charlie Bucket, and Joseph LeBlanc as Grandpa George	Melissa Handel, Faith Skeen and Mia Parnaby as Oompa-Loompas and Sedrick Moody as Willy Wonka

Photos by Jessica Sperlongano

The Cast

• Augustus Gloop: Erik Peyton
• Candy Man: Daniel Marin
• Charlie Bucket: Adam LeKang
• Grandma Georgina: Emily Franks
• Grandma Josephine: Nora Zanger
• Grandpa George: Joseph LeBlanc
• Grandpa Joe: Bob Maurer
• Mike Teavee: Tashi Poe
• Mr. Bucket: Alex Graur
• Mrs. Salt: Toby Nelson
• Mrs. Beauregarde: Emily Franks
• Mrs. Bucket: Toby Nelson
• Mrs. Gloop: Kimberly Baker
• Ms. Teavee: Nora Zanger
• Oompa-Loompa: Melissa Handel
• Oompa-Loompa: Hannah Hess
• Oompa-Loompa: Mia Parnaby
• Oompa-Loompa: Kyla Poe
• Oompa-Loompa: Faith Skeen
• Oompa-Loompa: Kathryn Skeen
• Phineous Trout: Wayne Jacques
• Veruca Salt: Amelia Lindsey
• Violet Beauregarde: Kaia Griggs
• Willy Wonka: Sedrick Moody

Production Team

• Producer: Jocelyn Steiner
• Director: Jessie Roberts
• Choreographer: Rosslyn Fernandez
• Assistant Stage Manager: Jay Stein
• Lighting Designer: Tom Epps
• Sound Designer: Jon Roberts
• Music Director: See Director’s Note
• Music Village
  • Keyboard: Larry Zimmerman, Francine Krasowska, Beth Atkins
  • Violinist: Kristina Westernik
  • Percussionist: Abel Ruiz
• Vocal Coach: Janice Zucker
• Projection Designer: Jon Roberts
• Graphic Designer: Michael Philip Panganiban
• Set Designer/Scenic Artist: Leta Fitzhugh
• Construction Coordinator: John Vasko
• Properties: Suzanne Maloney
• Set Dressing: Jocelyn Steiner
• Costume Designers: Judy Whelihan, Katie Andresen
• Hair and Make-up: Erica Longshore
• Set Construction Crew: John Vasko, Jon Roberts, Jessie Roberts, Samantha Poe, Jocelyn Steiner, Kaia Griggs, Hannah Hess, Diane Hess, Tracey Todd, Mikala Baker, Jay Stein
• Lighting Crew: Tom Epps, Kimberly Crago
• Costume Crew: Francoise Davis
• Set Painting Crew: Leta Fitzhugh, Mikala Baker, Hannah Hess, Diane Hess, Samantha Poe, Kaia Griggs, Anna Balch, Wayne Jacques, Denise Perrino, Vanessa Peyton, Kyla Poe
• Photographers: Jessica Sperlongano, Vanessa Peyton
• Program Design: Mary Ann Hall
• Light Board Operators: Kimberly Crago, Eric Stork, Kieth Flores
• Stage Crew: Mikala Baker

Disclaimer: Vienna Theatre Company provided two complimentary media tickets to ShowBizRadio for this review. VTC also purchased advertising on the ShowBizRadio web site, which did not influence this review.

 

 

You too can support independent media’s support of the arts by purchasing advertising on the ShowBizRadio web site.

 

 

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You too can support independent media’s support of the arts by purchasing advertising on the ShowBizRadio web site.

You too can support independent media’s support of the arts by purchasing advertising on the ShowBizRadio web site.

You too can support independent media’s support of the arts by purchasing advertising on the ShowBizRadio web site.

First a little quiz: 1. Are you between the ages of 32 and 40 (or do you remember sharply, even fondly, being between 32 and 40)? 2. Do you feel frustrated, futile, restless, listless, passionless, indecisive, helpless and snarky? 3. Do you try to deal with unhappiness by tossing off snappy zingers?

These questions probe what used to be called “midlife crisis.” In the present context, they describe a dark comedy called This, which is currently on stage at the Vienna Theatre Company.

If you answered “yes” to at least two out of three of the foregoing questions, you might well respond positively to This. In a sketchy way, the play explores familiar issues that particularly affect a certain middle class demographic. These issues range from deep to deeply shallow.

The characters are not what you’d call attractive. The VTC cast members themselves don’t seem to like them. At times, even in an intimate tête-à-tête, the performers don’t look at one another as they utter supposedly passionate disclosures. Director Tom Flatt’s actors do, however, try to indicate telling characteristics while keeping their distance from the embarrassing specimens that they are portraying.

This Playwright Melissa James Gibson is a Vancouver native who now lives in New York. She writes mostly for TV. Indeed her This characters are sturdy perennials familiar to watchers of soaps and reality series. Some of the humor is quaintly lame. Alcoholism, for example, is a source of mirth. 

The protagonists — Jane, Tom, Marrell and Alan — met at a college 10 or 15 years before the This events transpire. Their thrashings are observed by a French physician, Jean-Pierre, who works for Doctors Without Borders.

Alan is your standard bibulous gay friend who makes droll, wry remarks. At one point he laments having “Hush Puppy guy” written all over him. Though a stereotype, Alan is the most intriguing of the five characters. He is a living facsimile of a fictional character created by Luis Borges in his story “Funes el memorioso.” Funes and Alan are incapable of forgetting anything. This curse is a blessing for a playwright who wants characters who misrepresent their past words to be confronted with an exact retelling of those words. Matthew Randall, in an off-hand, rueful way, actually seems to enjoy playing Alan.

Shannon Benton as Jane, Kevin Walker as Tom and Rikki Howie Lacewell as Marrell stew, and sometimes come to a boil. Jane, a widow and single mother, is a “standardized testing monitor,” a poet and a teacher. Tom is a wood craftsman. He is married to Marrell, a lounge singer. For these three, sex provides the usual complications. Allen McRae is the aloof Jean Pierre. As a dramatic device, he is what, in the plays of Molière, is called the “raisonneur.” He puts upsets into proportion and calls things by their right names. He pooh-poohs “dinky” middle class fitfulness, comparing it to the horrific suffering faced by Doctors Without Borders in the third world.

Jean-Pierre’s comments are terse. Not so the ruminations of the central quartet. They freely indulge in flaccid “I hate…, ” “You always…” and “You never…” statements. Jane, in particular, is prone to diatribes. Her subjects include death, commiseration and the appropriateness of gentiles using Yiddish words.

This premiered five years ago in New York (off Broadway) and since then it has been staged by various theaters — including, last year, the Round House in Bethesda, Maryland. Clearly the play does not have anything like universal appeal. But it can give a certain generational cohort the encouraging feeling that their preoccupations matter.

Gibson’s characters frequently say “I’m sorry.” Then they go on to say that they are sorry that they say “sorry.” But the word has an unfortunate aptness. These folks are, indeed, a sorry lot.

Photo Gallery

Matthew Randall as Allan and Shannon Benton as Jane	Shannon Benton as Jane; Rikki Howie Lacewell as Marrell; and Allen McRae as Jean-Pierre
Rikki Howie Lacewell as Marrell; Matthew Randall as Alan; Shannon Benton as Jane; Allen McRae as Jean-Pierre; and Kevin Walker as Tom

Photos by Jessica Sperlongano

Disclaimer: Vienna Theatre Company provided two complimentary media tickets to ShowBizRadio for this review. VTC also purchased advertising on the ShowBizRadio web site, which did not influence this review.

You too can support independent media’s support of the arts by purchasing advertising on the ShowBizRadio web site.

You too can support independent media’s support of the arts by purchasing advertising on the ShowBizRadio web site.

Writers have long been attracted to stories based on meetings that never happened. The all-time champion of this league was Steve Allen’s “Meeting of Minds” TV series, in which Allen hosted dinner conversations among historical and fictional characters, such as Attila the Hun, Oliver Cromwell, Catherine the Great, Hamlet, and Emily Dickinson. Imagined meetings can occur in varied genres: science fiction (Phillip Jose Farmer’s “Riverworld” series, in which Richard Francis Burton, Mark Twain, Herman Goering, and Tom Mix — in fact, everyone who ever lived on earth — deal with resurrected life on a strange extraterrestrial planet); contemporary drama (The Meeting, pairing Martin Luther King and Malcolm X); and mystery thrillers (“The Seven Percent Solution,” teaming Sherlock Holmes with Sigmund Freud). Steve Martin’s entry in this field, Picasso at the Lapin Agile, now running at the Vienna Theatre Company (VTC), pictures a 1904 chat involving the artist, Albert Einstein, and miscellaneous local characters in a Paris bar.

The fictional meeting occurs in a real place. There was a Lapin Agile in Montmartre; it still exists, probably more for tourists than artists. Picasso, Utrillo, and other artistic and bohemian folk did hang out there. Picasso made a famous 1905 painting of himself sitting at the bar. In Martin’s script, the encounter there is a setup for a schematic debate between science (in the near corner, Einstein) and art (in the far corner, Picasso) as the new 20th century gets under way. The argument is pretty tame, leading to the unsurprising conclusion that both are valuable and that the two men have more in common than either might initially have supposed. As the womanizing Picasso, Robert King is more about libido than canvas and pigment, notwithstanding his well-delivered monologues about his artistic passions. Less believably, the script makes Einstein — played by David Carter with a full repertory of silent movie-like physical moves — as competition for Picasso in squiring ladies around town (in 1904, the historical Einstein lived in Switzerland with his wife and child). King and Carter both convey the bright, clever, egotism of about-to-be-famous young men.

If its discussion of art and science is tepid, the play’s discussion of sex is a good deal more interesting, especially in the character of Germaine (Annie Ermlick), the lover of Freddy (Stu Fischer), the bar’s owner. “The only reason you got into art and physics in the first place,” she tells the protagonists, “is to meet girls.” Fully realizing a compelling woman who plays by her own rules, for her own purposes, Ermlick — in a play chock full of monologues — provides the most ruefully perceptive of them all, telling Picasso

You like them young, because you can bamboozle them into thinking you are great. You want them when you want them, never when they want you. Afterwards, you can’t wait to leave, or if you are unlucky enough to have her at your place, you can’t wait for her to leave, because the truth is, we don’t exist afterwards, and all conversation becomes meaningless because it’s not going to get you anywhere because it already got you there. You are unreachable. Your whole act is a camouflage. But you are lucky because you have a true talent that you are too wise to abuse. And because of that, you will always be desirable. So when you wear out one woman, there will be another who wants to taste it, who wants to be next to someone like you. So you will never have to earn a woman, and you will never appreciate one.

In one of the intentional anachronisms in which Martin delights, and which are probably the most important source of humor in the show, it is Germaine who predicts the shape of the coming century — large passenger airplanes, computer data storage, smoking bans in bars, the Beatles, and that the city of Hiroshima will be completely modernized. Poor Freddy, on the other hand, is reduced to predicting a century of peace led by Germany and the military preeminence of France. Fischer’s Freddy, a working stiff with seemingly little imagination, nevertheless endears himself to Germaine with an occasional insight, which Fischer delivers with the same matter-of-factness with which he deals with daily business at the bar.

For all its palaver and all its sometimes labored anachronisms, the primary delight of the play — certainly of this production — is the bevy of character roles surrounding the leads. In addition to Germaine and Freddy, we have Gaston (Joe LeBlanc), an aging barfly with a weak bladder and a robust ability to imagine trysts he can no longer realize. We have the art dealer Sagot (based on a historical character), played by Bill Byrnes as a hale-and-hearty fellow who yields to no one in his admiration for the profit potential of paintings. Even more commercially oriented is Schmendiman (John Totten), a booster of uncertain enterprises who would be at home in any Chamber of Commerce meeting. There are the women who are drawn like moths to the flames of Picasso and Einstein: Suzanne (Melissa Dunlop), who Picassco picked up and quickly discarded; and the worldly Countess (Patricia Beaubrun-Reese) who Einstein takes bar-hopping. And finally there is the unnamed “Visitor” (Ian Burns) who, complete with blue suede shoes and swiveling hips, drops in from later in the 20th century to teach the budding geniuses a thing or two about music and the power of celebrity. All the supporting performances are lively and credible, not to mention a great deal of fun.

VTC’s performance space in the Vienna Community Center is not among best equipped in the area, so the success of the technical side of the production was particularly pleasing. Stacy King’s lighting design was strong throughout, but shone especially in a scene in which, as the Einstein, Picasso, and the Visitor note, the roof is gone and millions of stars have come out. The entire theater for a moment becomes part of the starry night as the characters stand in awe. John Vasko’s and Mary MacFarlane’s set uses curved-edge panels for the flats that make up the bar’s walls, going for an effective suggestion of the lines of the period’s art rather than for a realistic representation of the actual Lapin Agile. Most of the picture frames on the walls are empty, hinting perhaps at anticipation of art still to come. Eva Sanchez’s costumes were well suited to the various characters; glamorous for the Countess, slovenly for Gaston, coquettish for Suzanne, and so forth. Steve Martin probably would have enjoyed the off-beat natty outfit selected for Einstein, however unlikely it is that the real Einstein would have been caught dead in such a get-up.

Martin’s script is uneven, intermittently humorous and tedious. But the performances at VTC make the evening a worthwhile entertainment.

Director’s Notes

Luckily for us, Steve Martin is a jack-of-all trades. He is a comedian, an actor, a musician, and a writer of stand-up, screenplays, essays, children’s books, novels, plays and music. He has received Emmys, Grammys, The Disney Legend Award, Kennedy Center Honors and The Mark Twain Prize for American Humor. He is the creative father of a large family of literary and musical progeny. Like all parents, he has a “parent” arsenal of games, he uses to entertain and amuse when stuck in waiting rooms or confined during long car trips. With nothing tangible in hand, he incites us to use our imaginations. What do you spy with your little eye? How is eating ice cream different from eating lemons? If you could have any one of these, which would you choose? If Santa Claus and Batman went on vacation together, where would they go? Or rather, what would Einstein and Picasso talk about if they sat down at your table in a Paris bar? Hang on, and join us as Papa Steve leads us in one wild and crazy game of “what if.”

Photo Gallery

David Carter as Einstein, Annie Ermlick as Germaine, Melissa Dunlap as Suzanne, Stu Fischer as Freddy and Joseph LeBlanc as Gaston. Einstein explains his theory of relativity to Germaine, the barmaid.	Melissa Dunlap as Suzanne, Annie Ermlick as Germaine, David Carter as Einstein. Suzanne demonstrates how Picasso looks at refraction to Germaine, the barmaid, and Gaston, a patron of the bar
David Carter as Einstein, Melissa Dunlap as Suzanne	David Carter as Einstein, Annie Ermlick as Germaine
Robert King as Picasso and David Carter as Einstein	Joseph LeBlanc as Gaston and David Carter as Einstein

Photos by Matthew Randall/Allrand Photography

Cast

• Freddy: Stu Fischer
• Gaston: Joseph LeBlanc
• Germaine: Annie Ermlick
• Einstein: David Carter
• Suzanne: Melissa Dunlap
• Sagot: Bill Byrnes
• Picasso: Robert King
• Schmendiman: John Totten
• The Female Admirer: Melissa Dunlap
• A Visitor: Ian Burns

Production Team

• Producer: John Ingargiola
• Director: Patricia Boswell Kallman
• Production/Stage Manager: Mary MacFarlane
• VTC Board Liaison: Denise Perrino
• Lighting Designer: Stacy King
• Master Electrician: Tom Epps
• Sound Designer: Ben Allen
• Set Designers: John Vasko, Mary MacFarlane
• Master Carpenter: John Vasko
• Costume Designer: Eva Sanchez
• Set Painting: Mary MacFarlane, Ian Burns, Melissa Dunlap
• Run Crew: Carol Frysinger, Angelena Le Blanc
• Set Construction Crew: John Vasko, Roy Kallman, Ken Nuss, Sally Ann Flores, Kieth Flores, Mary MacFarlane, John Ingargiola, Eric Storck
• Set Painting Crew: Stu Fischer, Patricia Beaubrun Reese, John Totten, Mimi Totten, Joseph LeBlanc, Angelena LeBlanc, Roy Kallman, Sally Ann Flores, Kieth Flores, John Ingargiola, Pat Kallman
• Photographer: Matthew Randall
• Program Design: Jessie Roberts
• Light Board Operators: Kimberly Crago, Bill Mullins, Adrian Steel
• Sound Board Operator: John Ingargiola

Disclaimer: Vienna Theatre Company provided two complimentary media tickets to ShowBizRadio for this review. VTC also purchased advertising on the ShowBizRadio web site, which did not influence this review.