Conni’s Avant Garde Restaurant, Cleveland Public Theatre

(Mrs. Robinson, about to do things with an electric mixer that would make Betty Crocker faint face-first into her apple cobbler.)

Yes, it has landed again: the weirdest, tastiest and most depraved group dining experience since Caligula stopped serving piping hot virgins to his dinner guests.

Conni’s Avant Garde Restaurant, now at Cleveland Public Theatre, is back for its second year of elegantly calibrated insanity. It’s a show accompanied by a five-course dinner served by nine actors, but that doesn’t come close to describing the overall impact of this experience.

This year there are a couple new personnel additions to the Conni cabal. But clearly, no one among the returning cast has mellowed in the past 12 months. And that's a good thing.

The New York City-based performing company comes in to provide this crazed concoction, presenting a volley of set pieces interspersed with continuous interaction with the audience.

If you like up close and personal theater, this is just the ticket. On opening night, Mrs. Robinson (a male British rocker) swapped pants with a female patron. And that probably isn’t the most intimate exchange between audience and cast that took place. (What happens in Conni’s Restaurant, yadda yadda…)

No actors are identified by their actual names in the program, and every audience member is invited to choose a fake name-tag (ie. “Not-So-Tiny Tim,” etc.) that protects their identity as well. With anonymity firmly in place, everyone can just relax and plug into the subversive energy of this four hour wack-fest.

Songs are performed, sung particularly well by the exotic-looking Mr. X and restaurant general manager Sue James (probably not her real name, but who knows?). She also does a mean "dance of the seven kitchen utensils."

Each course of food is introduced via one form of hilarious mock-pageantry or another, then served family-style at long tables. The grub itself, cooked on the premises, ranges from wonderful (curried butternut squash soup) to filling (thick slabs of turkey with cranberry compote). Also served are foccacia appetizers topped with ricotta, honey and pumpkin seeds; a roasted brussels sprouts salad; side dishes of mashed potatoes and sugared carrots; and a drunken chocolate bundt cake for dessert.

In between the noshing, a pregnancy is transferred from one young woman to another, a pants-less doctor and his volley of nurses provide questionable medical assistance, and a good ol’ boy bartender runs a “Bus Your Table” contest where customers compete to win a champagne-drenched “palate cleansing” interlude. Yeah, don't ask.

Frankly, there are far too many elements in this borderline psychotic extravaganza to enumerate here. Suffice to say you have never experienced anything like it. You will laugh, except when your jaw is hanging agape in amazement. And you will not leave hungry--for food (taking seconds are encouraged), or for wine (three bottles allocated for each ten-person table), or for an ample quota of certifiable strangeness.

And once you do attend, you will pine for the return of CAGR next year like a three-year-old waiting for Santa Claus.

Conni’s Avant Garde Restaurant

Through December 18 at Cleveland Public Theatre, 6415 Detroit Avenue, 216-631-2727

Daddy Long Legs, Cleveland Play House

There’s a full-tilt, nail-down-the-furniture charm offensive going on at the Cleveland Play House, and woe betide anyone who dares say no. Daddy Long Legs, a recent musical adaptation of a popular century-old play (not to mention a renowned Fred Astaire film), is so darn winning it makes your molars throb.

Sure, the music is repetitive, the characters are often just two-ply and it all goes on about 40 minutes too long. But Paul Gordon (music and lyrics) and John Caird (who wrote the book and directs this two-hander) simply will not take no for an answer.

Based on a 1912 novel by Jean Webster and set at that time, the story is as simple as a silent film script. An orphan girl, Jerusha, is befriended by what she believes is a tall, aged, anonymous benefactor (she glimpsed him once from afar) who puts her through college. He only requests that, in return, she send him letters detailing her life.

But the academic sugar daddy, named Jervis, turns out to be a wealthy, cosmopolitan young man who eventually visits the college and meets up with Jerusha without revealing who he is. After that, she continues to send letters to her benefactor, sharing personal thoughts about this young man she met, without realizing they are the same person.

At this point, you can hear the anguished screams of all the young women who have had their secret diaries and love letters read by others. But this play saves that confrontation for the end.

Meanwhile, the play meanders from the college to Jerusha’s summer farm retreat and then off to the big city. Along the way, there is very little conflict, hardly any eye contact between the two actors on stage, and many treacly references to meadows ‘n’ frogs ‘n’ the moon rising over yonder. It feels sort of like a musical version of The Waltons—without John-boy’s edgy, hell-for-leather rebellious streak.

There are couple dozen sweetly descriptive songs that are mostly taken from Jerusha’s letters, sung by both characters, that sound vaguely similar in pace and tone. While pleasant to the ear and often sporting some witty lyrics, the tunes begin to drone as this almost 2½ hour show (with intermission) progresses.

In the role of Jerusha, Megan McGinnis is a treasure, as she employs her simple good looks and crinkly-cute expressions to fashion a young woman it’s easy to care about. She’s feisty, but still laboring within the tight social confines of the era. And McGinnis has such a bright, clear voice, she brings surprising depth to a number of fairly pedestrian songs.

As Jervis, Robert Adelman Hancock has some amusing moments, venting his frustration when Jerusha won’t dance to his tune. And he blends his crisp tenor voice nicely with McGinnis during their duets. But he is never able to give Jervis any interesting facets that would allow us to see why he is compelled to play this essentially awful trick on the young woman.

And that is why the conclusion of this soft-focus musical, a touring production with an eye on making it to Broadway or its environs, rings so hollow. Honest emotions on both sides are steamrolled by the happy ending everyone knows is coming. So you might as well give up and enjoy it. Resistance is futile.

Daddy Long Legs

Through Nov. 13 at the Cleveland Play House, Allen Theatre, 1407 Euclid Avenue, 216-241-6000

Cabaret, Great Lakes Theater Festival

First, we need to establish a couple facts. Great Lakes Theater Festival is an enormously talented company of theater professionals that has produced many fine shows, especially in recent years under the artistic direction of Charles Fee. And Victoria Bussert is a splendid director, the equal of anyone in this region.

Okay, now remember that first paragraph as we delve into their current production of Cabaret. Because for some reason known only to the cruel theater gods, those gifted people are staging a production that is so sublimely flawed, it almost beggars description. But describe it we will.

This Kander and Ebb musical, with a book by Joe Masteroff, is a gem that takes place in decadent Berlin just as Hitler is rising to power. Focusing on Sally Bowles, a goodtime gal and Kit Kat Klub star, the show is meant to show the tension of a society being torn apart, along with the lives of those caught in its unforgiving machinery. From the iconic title song to the slyly mercenary “Money,” this should be a sexy romp with a sobering kick of impending doom.

Instead, this production is dark, confusing and mostly unpleasant—but not unpleasant in the way the authors intended. The problems start with Jeff Hermann’s fixed set, featuring a five-piece band installed on a platform above a wall with three doors, sort of like a shrunken version of Let’s Make a Deal, but without Monty Hall out front and a Cadillac Eldorado behind door #3. These simple doors are evidently meant to designate different locations, with a light above each door that glows when the action takes place in that setting. At least, I think that’s the idea.

Strangely, a gaily-illuminated curtain of shiny Mylar strips is partly visible when those doors are open. This comes perilously close to making sense when the setting is the Klub, although why the performers aren’t doing their act in front of that curtain instead of three doors is anyone’s guess. But when the glistening curtain is glimpsed outside the door to Sally’s rundown room, one is only left to imagine a misguided but secretly festive boardinghouse owner who mounted a super-fabulous wall treatment in his scummy hallway.

(Okay, go back and read the first paragraph before continuing. I know I am.)

Musically and otherwise, the show revolves around Sally and the Master of Ceremonies at the nightclub. The MC should personify the sleazy sexuality and distorted morals of Germany, but Eduardo Placer takes very few chances and makes no interesting choices. Sure, he wears makeup and dresses scandalously, but so does your average weekend crossdresser and no one is paying money to see him. Unfortunately the costume is the most interesting element in Placer’s characterization, as he continually purses his lips and flings his arms skyward in an attempt to seem debauched.

The MC works with the Kit Kat Girls who are dressed unaccountably in a riot of monochromatic beige (and later black) panties and bras that look like they were snatched out of their respective grandmothers’ bureaus. If this is sexy Weimar Germany, give me the Golden Girls.

As Sally, the fiery performer Jodi Dominick is woefully miscast. Her singing ability ranges from serviceable to disastrous (especially in the final, sadly butchered rendition of “Cabaret”). Meanwhile, sharp-edged Dominick can’t come close to capturing the impish, fun-loving spirit of Sally that is necessary to make the whole show click. Instead, she seems a little pissed off that she has to pretend to be flighty and whimsical.

(Please revisit the first paragraph, one more time.)

The choreography by Gregory Daniels is a collection of improbable poses interspersed with faux-Fosse steps, executed with intermittent synchronicity.

Remarkably, even the entr’act music is screwed up by (you guessed it) audience participation, in which Placer brings up a man and a woman separately from the audience to dance with him. This cheap gimmick, a fixture of the corny stage productions at every theme park in the world, feels pitiful in this show. And it’s made even worse since Placer, breaking the almost non-existent character he’s created, cracks the same lame jokes with both people.

Director Bussert does not manage to squeeze one believable moment out of the interactions between Sally and fellow boarder, the clueless bisexual American Cliff (played by a bland Neil Brookshire).

The only time real emotion shows is when Laura Perrotta, occasionally overacting as Fraulein Schneider, falls in love and croons sweetly along with old Herr Schultz (a basically non-descript John Woodson).

Ultimately, in a last-minute bid for gravitas, the surprise ending reaches for a level of tragic resonance that the production up to then has not earned. So it feels forced and a tiny bit embarrassing.

To sum up, when Schneider and Schultz are the flawed highlight of Cabaret, it’s time to pack up your garter belts and run for the border.

Cabaret

Through October 30, produced by the Great Lakes Theater Festival at the Hanna Theatre, 2067 E. 14^th Street, 216-241-6000

With Love and Respect: An Evening to Celebrate the Naming of the Donald A. Bianchi Theatre

On October 2, 2011, Dobama Theatre will name the theatre space after its beloved founder, Donald A. Bianchi.

6:30 p.m. - Wine and hors d’oeuvres reception

7:30 p.m. – Presentation and naming of the theatre space

8:00 p.m. - A special production of VARICOSE VANITIES

Written by Mr. Donald A. Bianchi

Directed by Ms. Joyce Casey

Starring Jeanne Task and Tim Tavcar

9:00 p.m. - A tribute to Dobama Theatre’s Artistic Director

Tickets for the event are $50 ($25 tax-deductible).

Please click here to purchase tickets online, or call (216) 932-3396.

The proceeds from the evening will be directed to Dobama Theatre’s new Endowment Fund. This will mark the beginning of the fund and this contribution will be in Don’s name.

For more information or if you have any questions, please call Dobama Theatre at 216-932-3396.

Richard III, Ohio Shakespeare Festival

(The multi-tasking Terry Burgler)

It’s always fascinating to see how a director and actor approach the title role in Richard III. This bent and misshapen man is so fully evil and malevolent, he can conjure interpretations that echo Nazi Germany (such as in the Royal National Theatre’s production starring Ian McKellen that then became a movie). Under artistic director Terry Burgler, the Ohio Shakespeare Festival doesn’t fiddle with such contemporary spins and pirouettes, and that hewing to original time and place is to their credit.

But in this production, Terry Burgler is also the person playing Richard. And as an accomplished actor, he should be picketing outside Stan Hywet Hall, protesting the fact that his director never once watched him do a single scene in rehearsal. Perhaps this demonstration would shake the resolve of that immensely talented director, Terry Burgler.

While many productions opt for making Richard a gleeful and even charming psychopath, Burgler swings the other way with Richard underplaying many of his speeches and scenes. It is rather bold choice to portray the banality of evil, if that is his aim. Of course, this choice runs the risk of simply delineating the banality of banality. The second level of banality might have been eliminated had Burgler not been directing himself.

That said, Burgler the actor adopts a fine, dark look for his menacing character, with his shoulder hump firmly in place. And some scenes register with chilling overtones, as when Richard verbally seduces Lady Anne (played by Tess Burgler, Terry’s daughter, the pair thus executing a Freudian/thespian double back flip with aplomb).

But Burgler’s casual and at times off-handed demeanor blunts the edge of other scenes, while much of the violence is also soft-pedaled. As a result, this Richard doesn’t slice so much as shove and buffet—resulting in a kinder, gentler rendition that is interesting but not compelling.

Excellent performances are turned in by several individuals in the large cast. Anne McEvoy brings her riveting stage presence to the role of Margaret, who has been pushed aside following the death of her husband. If you ever want to cuss somebody out but don’t want to do it yourself, definitely give Ms. McEvoy a call.

Derrick Winger seems entirely at ease as Hastings, which makes his later fate ,when he joins the pile of off-stage bodies, even more affecting. Robert Hawkes is deliciously craven as Buckingham, Richard’s doomed flack, conning the populace and the court as his boss machetes his way to power. And Lara Knox simmers and snarls with style as Queen Elizabeth.

By making Richard defiantly non-charismatic, Burgler the director takes a big chance. Unfortunately, Burgler the actor does not have the wise counsel of a director who is observing these dynamics during rehearsals and then suggesting different and possibly more rewarding attacks on this juicy material.

Richard III

Through August 14, produced by the Ohio Shakespeare Festival at Stan Hywet Hall and Gardens, 714 North Portage Path, Akron, 330-673-8761

Dr. Dolittle, Mercury Summer Stock

(Pierre-Jacques Brault as Dr. Dolittle, with non-puppet versions of his on-stage pals)

Although most pet owners already fancy themselves capable of engaging their domestic creatures in conversation, talking to animals has always been troublesome beyond the basic statements: “Sit,” “Fetch,” and “Oh, God, not my cashmere sweater!”

That’s why the Dr. Dolittle story, originally written in a series of children’s books by Hugh Lofting, has the ability to entertain youngsters and all the rest of us still in touch with our childlike selves. And this production by Mercury Summer Stock has plenty of fun in store for the little ones, although it may be a tougher slog for those who have advanced past puberty.

The musical features book, compositions and lyrics by Leslie Bricusse, the renowned collaborator with Anthony Newley on The Roar of the Greasepaint—the Smell of the Crowd and Stop the World—I Want to Get Off. But aside from the famous “Talk to the Animals” there are precious few toe-tappers. Indeed, some of the melodies seem strained and a bit random.

Still, the fun here resides with the animals and the presentation, in the form of hand puppets and a two-person costume (the Pushmi-pullyu), is charmingly simple. This makes the animals less a technological marvel, as in The Lion King, and more accessible for the kids.

As for the slim plot, Dr. D is brought up on charges of murdering a woman by throwing her off a cliff into the sea. He claims it was a seal and he was just following the seal’s clearly stated wish to rejoin her seal hubby in the waters up north. Of course, the judge is less than accepting of this explanation, and soon most of the animals in town, from plow horses to mice, enlist in Dolittle’s efforts to free himself.

Mercury artistic director Pierre-Jacques Brault plays the title role, which turns out to be a mixed blessing. Brault exudes great charm on stage and sings well enough. But since Brault and Brian Marshall (who plays Matthew Mugg) share staging duties, some directorial details go unattended.

Brault never quite builds the good, animal-whispering doc into a full-blown character. Instead of the befuddled goodness this man should embody, we sense in Brault’s Dolittle an unfocused distraction. This is shown at various times when Brault is smiling at moments when his character should be registering another expression entirely.

As Mugg, Marshall shows off his singing chops but seems to be playing himself more than the rough and tumble, hard-drinking Irish palooka that his character name implies. Dolittle’s love-hate relationship with a local lady goes well, thanks to Jennifer Myor’s crisp, well-sung portrayal of Emma Fairfax.

The puppets, provided by PJ’s Puppets, are mostly adorable in their unaffected construction, and a couple are quite funny (an enthusiastic dog, a pig gifted with super olfactory senses). One exception is Polynesia, the 200-year-old parrot who is doc’s animal linguistics coach. This puppet is virtually expressionless and barely opens its mouth, problems that may stem from the puppet or from the puppeteer.

Dan DiCello and Neely Gevaart nibble freely on the scenery in their stint as circus owners who fall head(s) over heels for the Pushmi-pullyu. And Kelvette Beacham shines in the second act as Straight Arrow, the surprisingly erudite inhabitant of a floating island where an on-the-run Dolittle eventually lands. Her song, “Save the Animals,” is a huge highlight and one only wishes Beacham had a much bigger role.

While some musicals do fine with only piano accompaniment, this production feels quite threadbare musically, even with music director Ryan Neal’s best efforts.

In all, this is a doctor visit the kids are sure to enjoy. As for the adults, watching the kids’ faces light up is a treat in itself.

Dr. Dolittle

Through July 2, produced by Mercury Summer Stock at the Brooks Theatre, Cleveland Play House, 8500 Euclid Avenue, 216-771-5862

Next to Normal, PlayhouseSquare

(Alice Ripley as Diana.)

Her voice at first has the smooth gloss of a Broadway star. But it isn’t long before another vocal quality becomes apparent. This voice sounds as if it’s been extruded, pushed through the remorseless calendar-die cross-sections of daily life. A voice both blessed and tortured. And the finished product housing that voice, although polished to look at, is brittle and liable to shatter under stress.

This is Diana as played by the magnificent Alice Ripley, who won a Tony for her performance in the original Broadway production of Next to Normal, now at PlayhouseSquare. It is a portrayal that cuts through a bold rock music score to plant an indelible impression of bipolar trauma. With a pounding and exuberant score by Tom Kitt, and book and lyrics by Brian Yorkey, this is a production that dives feet first into a delicate subject area and emerges triumphant, although simultaneously downbeat.

Diana is a suburban mom in every jot and tittle, except for the fact that she has a not-easy-to-diagnose mental disturbance. Showing aspects of manic depression and obsessive-compulsive behavior, Diana is a trial to her loving family: husband Dan and children Natalie and Gabe.

Following a familiar pattern, Diana decides to stop taking her pills, encounters a talk therapist, and then spirals down into more serious issues and more extreme outcomes. And, as we learn the trigger for Diana’s troubles, more layers are added to this intense family drama.

If all that sounds like heavy lifting for the audience, fear not. This muscular production directed by Michael Greif is thoroughly captivating from start to finish.

In addition to Ripley’s tour-de-force performance, she is abetted by actors who sing powerfully and contribute clear and convincing characters. Asa Somers as Dan holds his own as the supportive spouse who is entirely out of his depth. Emma Hunton manages a nice mix of empathy, frustration and scorn as she deals with a mother who is rarely there for her. And Curt Hansen’s Gabe floats through the proceedings, always jabbing Diana with his inescapable presence.

In smaller roles, Preston Sadleir is amusing as Natalie’s improv piano playing boyfriend and Jeremy Kushnier renders both doctors with style.

Indeed, the often-enervated casts of the last two Broadway Series productions (especially West Side Story) should sit in this audience and observe how a touring company should perform: with passion and immediacy.

Adding to the powerful overall effect is the set by Mark Wendland that features an industrial three-tiered structure where the rock musicians and the actors do their thing. Accented by projections of house’s bland siding, and a woman’s face, the many lights on the spare crossbeams gleam and are extinguished like the uncertain synapses in Diana’s brain.

And on top of all that, there are trenchant thoughts that glitter amidst the dark turbulence of Diana’s struggles. Such as, “Most people who think they’re happy just haven’t thought about it long enough.” And, “The price of love is loss, but still we pay.”

If the subject matter gives you qualms, overcome them. There’s a reason why Next to Normal won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama plus a Tony for the original score. This is a complete theatrical treat, stimulating and profound, and it is not to be missed.

Next to Normal

Through June 19 at the Palace Theatre, PlayhouseSquare, 1518 Euclid Avenue, 216-241-6000