The Winter’s Tale, Cleveland Shakespeare Festival

(Front and center, Allen Branstein as Autolycus.)

There’s a saying that “time heals all wounds,” along with its comic corollary “time wounds all heels.” Both would seem to be true in the romantic The Winter's Tale, that combines tragedy and silliness while spanning a couple decades until a happy ending is earned for all.

In some Shakespeare plays, you have to work your way up to climactic moments and profound emotions. But in this somewhat haphazard work, now being shown around town for free by the Cleveland Shakespeare Festival, the heavy stuff is mostly front-loaded. The CleveShakes company handles the significant challenges posed by this play with dexterity, although there are blips in an otherwise smooth production.

Early on, King Leontes gets his Sicilian panties in a bunch because he thinks King Polixenes of Bohemia is boffing Leontes’ wife Hermione. True to the playbook for paranoid and jealous husbands everywhere, Leon won’t listen to reason or even an oracle who gives everyone a pass. So Leontes puts Hermione on trial and she’s sent to jail, pregnant with what Leontes thinks is the other king’s child.

The king and queen of Sicilia are well served by Camillo (Steven Madden), a nobleman who refuses to poison Polixenes when Leontes orders it, and Paulina (a sharp and stalwart Reagan Kendrick), the fierce friend of Hermione through thick and thin.

As Leontes, Aaron Elersich has a nice brooding look and, dressed in contemporary garb, he has the lean and brooding appearance of Jerry Orbach during his Law & Order phase. But Elersich’s line readings, often either forced or flat, aren’t able to bring dimension to the depths of his character’s free-range nihilism. In the smaller role of Polixenes, Eric Perusek is strong and Cassie Neumann makes Hermione a sympathetic figure, right up to her apparent death.

Meanwhile, the child Hermione bore, named Perdita, has been rescued from a Leontes-ordered death by a kindly shepherd (played with masterly aplomb and lovely vocal precision by Larry Seman) and Clown, his son. (Here’s a tip: If you decide to name your son Clown, chances are he will turn out to be a buffoon, but probably not nearly as funny as Nathan Miller’s version.)

Of course, as our old buddy Will is famous for, there are more confusions in store and sure enough, after that aforementioned passage of time, Perdita (Liz Jones) and Polixenes’ son Florizel (Jack Matuszewski) fall in love. This all happens in fantastical Bohemia, where a cutpurse named Autolycus (Allen Branstein in full and frenzied wack-a-doodle mode) keeps the audience laughing.

This is the cue for the magic to take hold, as Leontes reunites with his kid and Hermione turns from a memorial statue back into herself, reuniting with a chastened Leontes. Director Tyson Douglas Rand pumps up the comedy, which works nicely, but the two halves of this oddly constructed play never quite jell.

But it’s still a damn fine way to spend a summer evening.

The Winter’s Tale
Through August 2 at various
outdoor locations, see their
Web site for details: www.cleveshakes.org

Pangs of the Messiah, Mandel Jewish Community Center

(Charles Kartali as Shmuel and Jean Zarzour as Amalia)

You don’t have to be steeped in the politics of the West Bank or the passion of the religious Zionists who call it home in order to understand and appreciate Pangs of the Messiah. But, as they say, it couldn’t hurt.

Placed just slightly in the future, this challenging work by playwright Motti Lerner (an activist in the Israeli peace movement) explores the human toll imposed by political and religious struggles. Although very talky and at times unnecessarily intricate, Lerner crafts many impressive scenes. And a stellar cast under the direction of Scott Plate delivers a powerful evening of theater.

Set in the West Bank home of Rabbi Shmuel Berger, the play pits him and his Orthodox family against his own government, which is on the brink of signing a U.S.-sponsored treaty that will destroy their patch of homeland in trade for peace with a recognized Palestine. If this sounds a bit close to possible reality, you’d be right, and that gives this production added heft.

But what stands out most are the characters Lerner fashions, and how they are brought to life in this production. Shmuel and his wife Amalia welcome home their grown son Avner and his wife Tirtzah from a trip to America. That’s where Avner and Tirtzah failed to sway the administration or the U.N. to help secure the West Bank for Jewish settlers.

Once they’re back home, tensions escalate quickly, and not just on the political front. Avner and Tirtzah have been trying unsuccessfully to have a baby, and that undercurrent roils the waters as Avner becomes progressively more militant—even abandoning his suit and tie for an Uzi.

The Bergers have two other children including Chava (Amy Pawlukiewicz), a pregnant mother who is trying to keep track of her loose-cannon husband Benny (Ryan Jagru), and a younger mentally handicapped son, Nadav, who is constructing a house in the area.

Events ratchet up, expressed in brief newscasts that interrupt the family dynamics from time to time, along with visits from family friend and political player Menachem (Neal Poole). Thus, the stress fractures of the family—and symbolically of Israel itself—are shown in stark relief.

Charles Kartali is strong and compassionate as Shmuel, and he makes his political stand understandable without resorting to invective. In the role of his wife Amalia, Jean Zarzour is equally powerful as his main support and loving companion. Although registering as perhaps a bit old for the part, Mark Mayo handles his duties as Avner with quiet purposefulness. His scenes (both loving and contentious) with his wife, played with sharp intensity by Karen Sabo, are genuine.

One of the best moments, however, involves Shmuel and Nadav as they discuss, in their way, the tensions surrounding the family. Ethan Rosenfeld is captivating as the challenged Nadav, displaying childlike eagerness as well as a shallow grasp of more complicated facts. Even though it’s hard to picture this Nadav building a house and managing an assistant, as the script claims, his simple innocence provides a profound sounding board for the world-shattering events taking place.

Even though the title Pangs of the Messiah has the ring of a religious screed, it is much more about the human price that is paid when zealotry and compromise clash. And that is a lesson we all need to learn.

Note: Sadly, this is the last theatrical production to be sponsored by the JCC. And once again, the theater herd in Cleveland is thinned, to the detriment of everyone. Shiva starts July 2.

Pangs of the Messiah
Through July 1, presented by the Mandel
Jewish Community Center, at the Brooks
Theatre, the Cleveland Play House,
8500 Euclid Avenue, 866-546-1358
http://www.clevejcc.org/PangsOfTheMessiah.asp

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, Porthouse Theatre

(NIck Koesters as Pseudolus has his hands full with courtesan Panacea, played by Linda Mementowski.)


Is a “burlesque” show all rubber chickens and pratfalls? Hardly. The dicey trick with fast-paced farces such as A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum is that the director and actors have to balance manic wackiness with the discipline of staying on script and on point.

In this production at Porthouse Theatre, directed by musical theater maven Terri Kent, the company hits many fine notes, both musical and comedic. But some of the players don’t stretch quite far enough within their characters and, as a result, the laughter they generate is not as rich and satisfying as it might be.

This 1962 Broadway hit has always been popular, since it features a tender love story immersed in the lusty and lascivious atmosphere of ancient Rome, replete with mistaken identities, mistaken edifices and over-the-top characters. A send-up on the farces of Plautus, this musical features a sneaky-brilliant score by Stephen Sondheim and a hilarious book by Burt Shevelove and Larry Gelbart.

Even so, this vaudeville-style work needs a handful of actors who can create individuals we can bond with and believe in. Otherwise, all their crazy antics come across more as mildly amusing calisthenics rather than absurd character-driven inevitabilities.

In brief, the slave Pseudolus is trying to win his freedom by helping his master, young Hero, hook up with a virginal (!) courtesan next door named Philia. Of course, the path to true love has many obstacles, including the fact that she has been purchased, sight unseen, by the gallant warrior Miles Gloriosus (an imposing Brian Keith Johnson). Then, Hero’s father Senex arrives and is mistaken by Philia to be her intended master, much to Senex’s libidinous delight (as he notes, he's eager "to sow my one final oat").

Everything gets even more complicated from there, as a gaggle of prostitutes, cringing slaves and eunuchs, and Senex’s harridan wife Domina (Melissa Owens in a Marge Simpson wig and continual harpy dudgeon) all stir the pot to a boil.

In the lead role of Pseudolus, Nick Koesters employs razor-sharp comic timing and a more-than-passable singing voice, finding many laughs in his portrayal of this sly, conniving servant. But Koesters is so polished and confident on stage, his Pseudolus lacks the vulnerable center that drives this drudge to yearn for freedom—a vulnerability that, incidentally, would motivate the audience root for him.

Sarah Roussos brings a grand set of pipes to her songs as Philia, although she doesn’t have enough fun with her character’s intellectual shortcomings, failing to draw all the humor out of her solo “That’ll Show Him.” Her heartthrob Hero is handled well by Brian Duncan, turning in a lovely rendition of “Love, I Hear.”

As Hysterium, the nervous slave of Senex, J.P Makowski quivers incessantly but doesn’t fully explore the sweeter aspects of the role. In a similar manner, Benjamin Czarnota renders the procurer Marcus Lycus with little more than a low-grade sneer, when a more oily and sleazy attitude would be more amusing.

For guidance in how to handle such roles, look no farther than Marc Moritz, who makes Senex a splendidly dirty old man while still seeming adorable and even cuddly. His crooning of “Everyone Ought to Have a Maid,” along with his two slaves and neighbor Lycus, is a highlight of the show. As are the two eunuchs, played by Danny Lindenberger and Dane Castle, who primp, flirt and steal scenes to which they have no legal claim.

A nod of appreciation also goes to musical director Jonathan Swoboda who chose to keep “Pretty Little Picture,” an incidental song that is often cut but which, in this production, has a charm all its own.

In sum, this Funny Thing is plenty funny, it just falls short of being the total romp it might be.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum
Through June 27 at the Porthouse Theatre,
Blossom Music Center, 1145 W. Steels Corners Road,
Cuyahoga Falls, 330-672-3884

Quake, convergence-continuum

(Stuart Hoffman as one of many disappointing men and Erin Scerbak as Lucy)

Considering all the publicity that’s being generated around digital 3D movies, such as Disney-Pixar’s Up, it may be helpful to note that there is substantial entertainment available in the world of 1D, as in one-dimensional characters.

Of course, paper-thin people can be a fatal flaw in serious drama. But when the playwright manages her stick figures adroitly, as Melanie Marnich does in Quake (now at convergence-continuum), the results can be amusing and at times even edifying.

Lucy is a naïve 20-something who is desperately seeking “the big love” (not to be confused with this theater company’s next offering, titled Big Love, which is not to be mistaken for the HBO series of the same name). So she starts traveling around the country, walking up to strange men and hitting on them with a mixture of innocence and foolishly high expectations that is both endearing and slightly obnoxious.

As for the objects of her ardor, they are testosterone fall guys who appear promising at first but soon curdle. One is an outdoorsman who “lets himself go” before Lucy’s eyes, losing his hair and adding a paunch. Another is a pleasant student who is seeing another woman on the side. Even though these dudes are dolts, we are never clued in to what kind of a catch Lucy herself might be. Hey, this is her story, get over it.

As the disappointments accumulate, Lucy starts dreaming about a female serial killer in the news who seems to be everything Lucy wants in herself: brilliant, fierce, and always on the move. That Woman, as the killer is known, spouts geological and astrophysical jibber-jabber as she cuts her own swath through the American male populous.

This all feels like a good-spirited feminist rant, written by a woman who has plenty of poetry coursing through her veins. At one point, feeling lonely, Lucy says “I turned myself into paper, folded myself into a boat, and sailed away.”

In addition to some sparkling language, playwright Marnich simplifies her task by reducing Lucy and the men in her life to nothing more than theatrical Tweets. Whether it’s the jock (single-minded and dumb), the new age guru (artificial and dumb) or the shrink (just dumb), everyone is unrealistically uncomplicated. And that helps the play hammer home its overall message about the frustrating search for connection on our life journeys.

Under the inventive direction of Arthur Grothe, the play is staged with crisp efficiency, although convergence-continuum probably should reevaluate its obsession with including video segments in virtually all their productions. The video bits here are remarkably extraneous and ultimately distracting.

Most of the talented cast handles their simplistic characters with flair. Erin Scerbak is wide-eyed as Lucy, although a number of her line readings come across as unintentionally flat rather than as intentionally banal. Christian Prentice scores in multiple roles, particularly as the crazed jock-cyclist and in an all-too-brief bit as a flight attendant. Stuart Hoffman and Robert Hawkes also deliver sharp cameos in their various guises, with Hoffman’s oft-wounded gas station clerk and Hawkes’ dotty psychiatrist being particularly engaging.

But the play, for all its charm, goes a bit off the track near the end of its 80-minute playing time. When Lucy encounters a physically abusive auto repairman, played by Tom Kondilas, this serious subject is treated with the same cavalier detachment as all the others. And it doesn’t feel like a good fit.

Perhaps the most magnetic performance is turned in by Laurel Johnson as That Woman, strutting with sleek and polished confidence through Lucy’s dream sequences as the role model from hell. In her last scene, That Woman transforms herself in a most unexpected way. Unfortunately, Johnson and director Grothe overplay this moment when a quieter, more subdued approach would have been far more incisive.

Still, there is a glittering collection of interesting scenes here, all infused with witty wordplay. And it offers an excellent summation of the search for true love: “Perfect love is possible. It just depends on how many flaws you can put up with.”

Quake
Through June 27, produced by
convergence-continuum at The Liminis,
2438 Scranton Road, 216-687-0074

Dream Home, Dobama Theatre

(Cathy Albers as Joan)

Back in the 1950s, kids would watch educational films showing how Communism was on the march, as red flowed further and further into neighboring countries. You could use the same graphics, superimpose it on Cleveland, and use it to describe the effects of abandoned homes and foreclosures caused by the current real estate crisis.

Of course, any subject so freighted with emotion makes a fine subject for the stage. And Dobama Theatre is answering the call with Dream/Home, a work they commissioned from playwright Sarah Morton as Part II of their Cleveland Plays series. Structured as a series of monologues, all delivered by local people who are connected to one individual foreclosure event, the piece is surprisingly subtle and deeply felt on an emotional level.

It all starts less than auspiciously as the putative narrator, a banker named Arthur, addresses the audience and once again drags out the tired, beat-to-death “Moses Cleaveland/the “a” was dropped/divided city/yadda yadda” song and dance. Note to any playwrights who, in the future, write about our fair burg and are tempted to rehash Moses: We get it, move on.

Arthur (played with affecting sensitivity by George Roth) appears a few more times, but all the other character appearances are one-shot deals. A nicely greasy Fabio Polanco kicks it off by portraying a mortgage broker who is eager to push through the adjustable rate home loan for Margaret, a schoolteacher.

From there, we meet the next-door neighbor who is tending the yard for the absent homeowner (rendered with perfect specificity by Anne McEvoy) and a realtor who is trying to unload the property (Tom White in a crisply amusing turn).

Whether it’s Margaret’s daughter (Alexis Floyd), who’s trying desperately to hold onto her job as a barista at the local coffee shop, or another neighbor (Rodney Freeman) who must deal with the increase in crime sparked by empty houses on his street, the effects keep multiplying.

Morton skillfully crafts these set pieces, including enough ancillary information about each character so that they don’t seem like linked rants. At one point, Arthur recalls his childhood in the Depression and remembers he was “afraid of wasting even a breath.”

One of the best monologues is delivered by Cathy Albers, who plays Joan, the wife of a retiring bank executive. Looking like a great pick for the cast of The Real Housewives of Gates Mills, Albers is bitchy, touchy, and a bit desperate as she feels her world shifting under her.

Directed with sensitivity by Sonya Robbins, Dream/Home is solid but less than perfect. While various sides of the problem are referenced—the greed of both sleazy lenders and buyers looking for a get-rich-quick windfall—it might help if there was a stronger point of view. This catastrophe is too large, and too destructive, to be simply used as a platform for personal musings, even ones as precise and well-sculpted as these.

The set design by Todd Krispinsky is quite effective, a composition of doors artfully positioned in a heap, even though it mirrors (or is an homage to) a nearly identical set done by Trad A. Burns for Gold Star at Cleveland Public Theatre last year.

By the time we meet Margaret, played with deft resignation and a touch of hope by Lisa Langford, we have a clear picture of the ways in which many lives have been affected. But, once again, accountability is denied. Not because it isn’t called for, but because the misdeeds were so widespread it’s almost impossible to effectively assign blame.

But we should try. Especially in the theater, we should try.

Dream/Home
Through June 7, produced by
Dobama Theatre at the Brooks Theatre,
Cleveland Play House, 216-932-3396

One-Man Star Wars Trilogy, Cleveland Play House

(An uncharacteristically serious-looking Charles Ross, with a lightsaber prop he doesn't use during his performance.)

Hi Bryn,

Boy, do I wish you were with me last night at the Cleveland Play House! As the leading 7-year-old expert on all things Star Wars, at least within our family, you would have been a great help in digging out the small details of this delightful show.

I remember seeing the original flick when it came out, five years after your mom was born, in 1977. And I was blown away by all of it, particularly the idea that if space ships were used daily, they would start to look as battered and dusty as the car in my driveway. (Up to that time, all spaceships looked sparkling and pristine.)

A couple years later I saw the sequel, The Empire Strikes Back, and I thought it was good but I never even saw Return of the Jedi, probably because of some mixed reviews. (Yes, I read reviews because I know how wise and insightful critics are.)

This all proves that I am not the best audience for One-Man, since a real Star Wars fan like you will pick up far more of the film references that rush by in this fast-paced hour-long production.

Standing on a bare stage in a black jumpsuit with no props, Charles Ross performs all the elements of the three movies that make up the trilogy starting with the original epic, Episode IV: A New Hope (see, I didn’t even know that film had a subtitle that was added later, to help keep all the sequels and prequels straight).

And when I say Ross does everything, I’m not kidding. He acts out the scrolling type at the start of each film, the music, the droids, the space battles, the hand-to-hand combat, and most of the characters. His Jabba the Hutt is hilarious, whether you saw the film or not, as is his depiction of the Imperial Walkers.

It’s all done tongue-in-cheek (ask your father), but he never gets nasty and makes fun of the movies or those that love them, such as you my dear. While covering the key plot points, Ross notes some problems in continuity. For instance, there’s one character who pronounces the Princess’s name “Lee-ah,” not “Lay-ah”. If you had been there, you could have reminded me who that was.

One-Man is enjoyable for darn near everyone, just because of Ross’s energetic presence and his finely tuned sense of goofiness. And he talks directly to the audience at times, as himself, giving the whole show a relaxed and friendly feel.

I really think you would have had a blast last night, Bryn, as did several kids I saw in the audience. Maybe we can see it the next time Ross brings his traveling Star Wars show to New Jersey.

Anyhow, live long and prosper. (Oops, sorry, that’s Star Trek.)

I love you,

Grandma Chris

One-Man Star Wars Trilogy
Produced as part of FusionFest
at the Cleveland Play House, through May 10,
8500 Euclid Avenue, 216-795-7000

An Evening with Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin, PlayhouseSquare

If you have aspirations of being a Broadway—or pretty much any other kind—of singer, your advanced class is now in session at the Palace Theatre in PlayhouseSquare. An Evening with Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin will teach you more in a couple hours than a year’s worth of conventional instruction. (Of course, if you only aspire to see a great show, the Palace should also be your destination.)

The vast majority of these lessons are positive, especially as they relate to the emotional delivery of songs that tell a story. But there are also a couple instances of excessive, stagey mannerisms that any budding singer might be counseled to avoid.

The show stars two performers who have amassed hefty Broadway portfolios. A winner of enough awards to fill a small cruise ship, LuPone recently finished a smash revival of Gypsy, playing the mother of all stage mothers, Mama Rose. Patinkin won a Tony Award for his performance as Che in Evita, with LuPone in the title role.

As directed by Patinkin on a bare stage with only some scattered work lights, the concert presents a stream of consciousness flow of songs, mostly from Broadway’s composing elite such as Stephen Sondheim, Rogers and Hammerstein, Jerome Kern and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Happily, Patti and Mandy pause a couple times for snatches of scenes from the classic shows South Pacific and Carousel.

Many of the songs are paired thematically so they represent a musical dialogue. In one of these, LuPone comically declares her objection to further commitment in “(I’m Not) Getting Married Today” and Patinkin responds tenderly with “Loving You.”

Among the many glories of this production, the foremost has to be the ability of the two performers to instantly find the emotional heart of each song and then express it in unique, individual ways. Oddly, the high point of the show happens almost immediately, when they play the South Pacific scene along with singing “A Cockeyed Optimist,” “Twin Soliloquies” and “Some Enchanted Evening.” In the span of a mere ten minutes, one feels the full impact of the relationship between Emile de Becque and Nellie Forbush.

There are countless other high points, such as the mash-up of “April in Paris” and “April in Fairbanks,” the latter highlighted by a witty rolling chair ballet choreographed by Ann Reinking. And LuPone delivers a couple audience favorites, such as a stirring rendition of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” to end Act One and “Everything’s Coming Up Roses.”

While LuPone is consistently enchanting, whether in dramatic or comic mode, Patinkin hits a couple screechingly off-kilter trouble spots. One of these is in his over-the-top performance of “The God-Why-Don’t-You Love-Me Blues” from Follies. Mugging insufferably, he turns this wry and rueful tune into a frenzied bit that is more endured than enjoyed. In addition, Patinkin’s falsetto croon, which he often employs, is an acquired taste. There are time when it works piercingly well and others when it just seems like he’s showing off.

But there are so many transcendent moments in Evening that the rough patches hardly matter. If you sing, or if you just listen, this is a show you shouldn’t miss.

An Evening with Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin
Through May 17 at the Palace Theatre,
PlayhouseSquare, 1615 Euclid Avenue,
216-241-6000