Mamma Mia!, PlayhouseSquare

 There is an understandable urge to resist shows that give off the aura of being entirely irresistible.

Take Mamma Mia!, the jukebox musical of tunes spun by the pop- rock group ABBA, which is now at PlayhouseSquare. It’s so cheerful and bright, and packed with infectious tunes, that you find yourself smiling and tapping your foot even when you’re trying to ignore the temptation.

Better to give in: ABBA is bigger than all of us, even though they haven’t recorded or performed as a group for 30 years. But no matter, Mamma Mia! will run forever, giving middle-aged actors the chance to dress in 1970's rock drag, and middle-aged audience members the opportunity to remember when they could boogie with the best of them.

The music and lyrics by Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus is as bulletproof as always, and the direction by Phyllida Lloyd has been frozen in amber since the show's 1999 debut.

In this iteration, the older women are led by slim Kaye Tuckerman, who gives taverna owner Donna a wired, slightly hyper presence. Although Tuckerman can’t hit the low notes with much oomph, she nails “The Winner Takes It All” near the end of the second act.

As her back-up rock group now gone to seed, Alison Ewing is a nicely jaded and breast-enhanced Tanya. Mary Callanan plays Rosie with a sweet affect that could stand to be a little earthier and more edgy. But they both sing well and look appropriately out of place in their glam-rocker outfits.

As for the old dudes who used to date Donna, one of whom might be the father of her daughter Sophie, it’s a mixed bag this time around. Paul Deboy handles the “head banger” role of Harry Bright with good-natured ease, and John-Michael Zuerlein has a couple interesting moments as the Aussie.

But Christian Wheelan never quite connects as Sam Carmichael, the guy Donna clearly has the most current vibes for, both positive and negative. And his singing feels forced, as if he’s stretching every neck tendon to hit his notes, which is a less than attractive way to approach most love songs, be they ballads or soft rock.

Among the young tikes (the 20-sometings), Chloe Tucker is fun and endearing as Sophie, and the aptly named Happy Mahaney plays her fiance Sky with a nearly permanent smile that warms rather than irritates.

The book by Catherine Johnson blissfully ignores simple resolutions to the problems set forth (paternity tests? hello?), but all the confusions are eventually resolved in a welter of more songs.

And that’s just what the audience wants, ending with a mini-concert that sends everyone off humming and waiting for the next touring company of Mamma Mia! to roll through town.

Mamma Mia!

Through July 22 at the Palace Theatre, PlayhouseSquare, 216-241-6000. 

The World Goes ‘Round, Porthouse Theatre

(Lisa Kuhnen leading the Cabaret crew.)

There is something slightly perverse about building a stage show around songs collected from a particular composer’s oeuvre.

Since those songs were all intended to further the storytelling of the play they were written for, isolating them in an entirely different environment is a bit like leaving your child on a strange street corner and then driving away. (Okay, it’s not like that at all, but you take my point.)

Still, these shows exist and as the genre goes, The World Goes ‘Round now at Porthouse Theatre is a particularly enjoyable example of the species. Featuring the melodies and lyrics by, respectively, John Kander and Fred Ebb, it features ditties from their blockbuster shows such as Cabaret, Chicago and Kiss of the Spider Woman.

A phalanx of more than 30 songs is performed by this summer’s collection of Porthouse young people—college-age actors singers and dancers who often demonstrate talents that belie their tender years.

Overall, these kids are being taught well, as each approaches his or her songs with a clear intent to tell a story, not just hit notes and navigate cascading trills. Even though the results are sometimes mixed, this cast has their priorities correctly ordered.

For instance, Lauren Culver kicks things off with a powerful rendition of the title song. And Jennie Nasser shines throughout, particularly on ”How Lucky Can You Get” from Funny Lady and “A Quiet Thing” from Flora, The Red Menace.

Likewise, Lisa Kuhnen delivers on all fronts with humor (in “The Grass Is Always Greener” with the comical Anastasia Arnold) and in a capable (although not particularly decadent) version of “Cabaret.”

Lucy Anders turns in an affecting “My Coloring Book” and Mackenzie Duan does what she can with “Isn’t This Better,” a lame song out of its Funny Lady context that is performed concert-style with “Maybe This Time” (Culver) and “We Can Make It” (Samuel Rohloff). Duan fares better in the funny “Class,” swilling drinks with a plotzed Culver as they lament (urp!) the lack of sophistication around them.

The men also have their moments although they have notably fewer solos. For example, Kyle Kemph gets lip-smacking laughs with an ode to “Sara Lee,” and later he raises a few neck hairs with his stirring “Kiss of the Spider Woman. ”

But the talented Jack O’Brien isn’t fragile enough to make the lovely “Mr. Cellophane” evoke the right amount of compassion—even with a clever ending. Michael Glavan, Parke Fech, and Nathan Mohebbi (who does an excellent mute version of The Fonz in “Arthur in the Afternoon”) all contribute mightily to the ensemble numbers.

And one of those, “Coffee in a Cardboard Cup,” is a verifiable showstopper. But don’t come late, it’s the third song.

Director and choreographer Sean Morrissey has tutored his charges well, and come up with some inventive staging twists that keep things interesting. The result is a plethora of musical delights, just right for a summer evening.

The World Goes ‘Round

Through July 21 at the Porthouse Theatre, Blossom Music campus,

 1145 W. Steels Corners Road, Cuyahoga Falls, http://dept.kent.edu/theatre/porthouse/index.html

The Tale of the Name of the Tree, Talespinner Children’s Theatre

There can never be enough children’s theater. Because this is how we teach little ones the difference between birthday party balloon-twisting clowns and performers of another ilk.

That’s why everyone with rug rats in their home should celebrate the opening of Talespinner Chidren’s Theatre. Located in a spacious and comfy theater on Detroit Road, this venture under the artistic direction of multi-talented theater veteran Alison Garigan promises to provide both children and theater people new and challenging opportunities.

Their first production, The Tale of the Name of the Tree, is a Bantu tale adapted by local playwright Michael Sepesy. And while it’s not airtight in all respects, this inaugural offering has plenty to recommend it—for sippy-cup users as well as those who chauffeur the young lads and lasses to their various entertainments.

It seems that a number of different animals in the jungle are losing their food sources. And it is rumored that a lion has a huge fruit tree, but it will only release it’s goodies when someone can intone the mysterious name of the tree.

The five inventively-masked actors who play the animals are thoroughly engaged and continually try to connect with their young audience members. Ray Caspio is a wonderfully nervous ostrich and Elaine Feagler ambulates with purposeful intent and the adorable, slow moving turtle.

As the meerkat, Nathaniel Leeson with his mask on looks weirdly like David Spade, and he’s equally as funny. His whip-sharp head turns and lack of short-term memory create laughs for people of any age.

As the cheetah, Stephanie Wilbert works admirably hard but never quite lands on a feline personality that clearly resonates. And James (Jack) Hunt has some nice (okay) moments, but fails to make his elephant as accessible as he might.

Sepesy includes a number of subtle jokes for the adults in the audience, always a thoughtful touch. And he sneaks in some mildly political fodder. But the play spends a lot of time travelling through an imaginary jungle and could benefit from a clear and tangible villain (kids love villains!) who might add both humor and tension.   

By featuring some African-inspired music and dance, director Garrigan has fashioned an hour-long live theater experience that all your back seat riders will enjoy.

The Tale of the Name of the Tree

Through July 8 at Talespinner Children’s Theatre, The Reinberger Auditorium, 5209 Detroit Ave., 216-264-9680.

Damn Yankees, Porthouse Theatre

(MaryAnn Black as Lola and Michael Glavan as Joe Hardy)

A year after the 1954 Cleveland Indians were swept in the World Series by the Giants, no one would have described them as hapless. That’s why it was the Washington Senators who were dubbed to be the miserable team at the center of Damn Yankees.

If only the show creators—Richard Adler and Jerry Ross (words and music) and George Abbott and Douglas Wallop (book)—had known what lay in store for our “beloved featherheads:” 57 years and still counting in the search for a world championship.

But no, in this show now at the Porthouse Theatre, couch potato Joe Boyd makes a deal with the Devil to become a young stud ballplayer and help the Senators win.

And once again this classic show delivers the goods, thanks to the spot on direction of Terri Kent and some winning performances. This is much more a love story than a baseball yarn, and director Kent brings out the poignancy of the relationship between Joe and Meg, the wife he temporarily abandons while pursuing his dream.

Once Joe strikes a deal (with an escape clause) with fiendish Applegate, old Joe turns into ripped Joe Hardy, a baseball phenom. But conniving Applegate has a secret weapon, the 172-year-old yet eternally young vixen named Lola, who has seduced men down through the ages. Trouble is, she’s never come up against an average Joe from Hannibal, MO.

Marc Moritz and Michael Glavan play old Joe and young Joe, and their interactions with Mary Anne Prevost as Meg resonate through songs such as “A Man Doesn’t Know and “Near to You.”

The Satanic business is handled with aplomb by Eric van Baars as Applegate, making lit cigarettes appear in an instant and leering with devilish intent. Still, at this geriatric point in the show’s lifespan, Applegate is a juicy role that begs to be embellished even further.

Longtime Porthouse stalwart MaryAnn Black gives her all to Lola, dancing and strutting her charms in “Whatever Lola Wants.” She has the required mix of sensuousness and geeky charm that makes this role click. But one has to squint just a bit to believe Black is the ageless and nubile temptress indicated in the script.

The production is tied together with excellent dance numbers choreographed by John R. Crawford and a chorus of ballplayers (male and female) who are energetic and sharp in every scene. Particularly effective are Jack O’Brien as the mentally meandering Smokey and Rohn Thomas as Coach Van Buren, who leads them all in the anthem “(You Gotta Have) Heart."

While it may be another few decades before our (yes) hapless Indians win a World Series, shows like Damn Yankees at Porthouse make summer downright enjoyable.

Damn Yankees

Through June 30 at Porthouse Theatre, on the Blossom Usic Center campus, 1145 W. Steels Corners Road, Cuyahoga Falls, visit: dept.kent.edu/theatre/porthouse/index.html

Cats, Mercury Summer Stock

(Brian Marshall as Gus, the Theater Cat and Angela Bruzina as Jellylorum)

There is no more enduring punch line in all of theater than Cats. This Andrew Lloyd Webber musical has had more crap dumped on it in the last 30 years than a desert full of kitty litter.

Mocked for being unsophisticated, plot-less claptrap aimed at pre-teen girls, theater rubes and burnt-out Asian businessmen, one can tend to forget that the show has undeniable strong points. And although this production by Mercury Summer Stock is raw in parts and lacking in vocal depth, the staging is nicely detailed and at times even captivating.

Based on whimsical poems by T.S. Eliot in his book "Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats," the show links a series of feline profiles and a study of an intricate society made up of “jellicle” cats. Salted with British language and slang, it is a mostly sung-through and entirely danced-through show.

This, of course, requires performers who can sing and dance, and sing after dancing, and dance after dancing, and sing and dance after prowling around like cats on all fours. And then do it all again and again. No wonder cats always look so pissed off.

Anyhow, some of this large troupe are up to those tasks while others clearly aren't.

Also, since MSS is a small budget operation, the sheer spectacle that lifted the Broadway version of Cats to popular heights is absent. In addition, Mercury's threadbare five-piece orchestra can’t fill in the rather substantial auditory gaps.

That’s a big hunk of challenge to take on, which talented director/choreographer Pierre-Jacques Brault happily shoulders. And his cast is so well disciplined many of the scenes play remarkably well. This is especially true with the large dance numbers when pit singers can be used to add heft to the soundscape.

Among the specific scenes that work is “Gus: The Theater Cat,” featuring Brian Marshall as an old cat actor recalling his glory years. Stephen Robert Carder captures the rock star vibe of Rum Tug Tugger, and Tasha Brandt is amusing as Jennyanydots.

The signature song, “Memory,” is given a poignant turn by Kelly Monaghan as Grizabella, although she can’t hit the high belt notes.

The rented costumes are professional, giving the production necessary visual zing. However, the uncredited and monumentally busy set design is a bit of a mystery, as it features toys and games from childhood such as Play-doh and Chutes & Ladders as opposed to the usual junkyard setting. This domesticates the cat population and does them a symbolic disservice.

Still, there are pleasures to be had in this Cats, thanks to a hard-working cast that pounces on this material with feline delight.

Cats

Through June 30, produced by Mercury Summer Stock at the Regina Auditorium, Notre Dame College, 1857 S Green Rd., South Euclid, 216-771-5862.

Akarui, Cleveland Public Theatre

(Richard Brandon Hall as Mateu and Molly Andrews-Hinders as DC)

Often, the most interesting things in life happen at the junctures, the pivot points. The places where tectonic plates of identity and culture crumble and fracture are often the sites of new growth and exciting possibilities. Or, at the very least, it’s a place where you can spend a hell of an interesting hour or two.

In the world premiere of Akarui, now at the Cleveland Public Theatre, playwright Jen Silverman pitches her dramatic tent on several different steaming fissures: transgender issues; murder, guilt and death; and medical experimentation. The result is astounding in all respects, even with a couple performances that fail to capture the twisted grandiosity of Silverman’s vision.

It starts off with Dr. Baba Yaga (gender indeterminate) who is trying to nurture an avocado seed placed in the dead body of Joshua (an innocent James Alexander Rankin). This young man, we learn in time, was murdered on a beach, his body subsequently retrieved by the doc as a medium for growing new blooms. Trouble is, Joshua is alive, apparently, and dealing with his transformation from life to death with gathering irritation.

Meanwhile DC is a transitioning female-to-male T in the process of picking her way through the gender underbrush. He’s chatting up gay men on the Internet while revealing little about himself, until he connects with a young man half-a-world away.

Web pal Mateu is attracted to DC, especially after they Skype each other. But Mateu’s time is divided since he’s shacking up with a troubled dude named Stack who has recently killed a man on a beach.

Mateu eventually convinces DC to come his way and experience the transformative power of DJ Akarui, a hypnotic presence who spins music and identities with equal agility.

Thus, all the stories begin to converge, and we’ve seen that before. What’s new is everything else about the production.

This includes Silverman’s sometimes oblique yet disciplined words, the vibrant staging by director Raymond Bobgan, and the pounding, highly percussive Afro-Brazilian Candomble music that keeps the pace percolating.

Arrayed on set designer Todd Krispinsky’s impressive three-tier metal scaffolding, the actors climb, swing and jump into and out of scenes, often with sheets of plastic serving as temporary walls and ceilings. It’s a feast of visual and auditory surprises with a story that actually makes sense despite its fractured audacity.

As Dr. Yaga, Beth Wood is monstrously effective, somehow dodging all the “crazy scientist” stereotypes to create a uniquely deranged and strangely vulnerable wacko. At one point, she conducts a “maximally invasive cardiac replacement surgery” on Joshua, substituting a cactus plant for his heart.

Also excellent is Chris Seibert in the role of DJ Akarui. Although not in the spotlight frequently, she performs with her signature intensity and makes every one of the DJ’s appearances memorable.

But the most amazing portrayal is turned in by Molly Andrews-Hinders as the confused and tormented DC. Channeling the Hilary Swank vibe from Boys Don’t Cry, then adding her own levels of depth, Andrews-Hinders is riveting and poignant. Especially powerful are the moments when DC reflects on the difficulties transition, when she’s stuck in-between the two genders and knows she’s not coming across believably.

As a plain-spoken Stack, Lew Wallace is a properly haunted fellow, although there are layers to this man that go unexplored. Similarly, Richard Brandon Hall has some nice turns as Mateu. But he doesn’t display the vocal prowess and physical presence necessary to evoke the magnetic character the playwright has fashioned.

A chorus of eight dancer/singers (plus one lithe man playing a manta ray) adds immeasurably to the texture of the production.

Director Bobgan, inventive and bold without pushing the envelope too far, is clearly vibrating on the same wave length as the playwright. Therefore, this production soars when it could easily crumple under the weight of all its elements.

In Akarui, the idea of change and transformation is detailed with almost pointillist exactitude. But no matter how much change one seeks, it’s a finite process. As DC notes ruefully: “There’s nowhere to go when you keep bringing yourself with you.”

Akarui 

Through June 9 at Cleveland Public Theatre, 6415 Detroit Avenue, 216-631-2727

Sondheim on Sondheim, Great Lakes Theater

He gazes down from above like Big Brother, many times bigger than life-size, but there’s no one in the audience running towards the screen about to sling a sledgehammer. No, this is Stephen Sondheim up there, and we are all in his thrall.

In Sondheim on Sondheim, now at Great Lakes Theater, eight singers make up the live performers on stage. But they are dwarfed, literally and figuratively, by Sondheim’s appearances in videotape segments.

This roughly chronological journey through la vie Sondheim is an often enthralling biography for lovers of Broadway music. Since there is no composer and lyricist (or any combination of two people handling those tasks) that can truly compete with Mr. S., he’s granted the throne.

And he rules over us with a quirky, sardonic sense of humor. When addressing how he starts writing a song, he alludes to the booze he pours himself to help get the juices flowing. He even details his writing implements (yellow legal pad and an extra-soft pencil so he can spend a lot of time sharpening—and not writing).

Indeed, his explanations of how certain songs and shows evolved is intriguing, interspersed by the performers singing to illustrate the narration. This is how we learn the way “Comedy Tonight” became the blockbuster opening song in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.

These are all stories Broadway buffs will appreciate, while others may be left a bit out in the cold. By jumping from show to show and song to song, it’s impossible to get a fix on the characters that inhabit Sondheim’s creations. And, as he says, his songs are all about character specificity.

The strong cast is led by Pamela Myers, who was in the original cast of Company and sings her signature song “Another Hundred People” at the start of Act Two. She nails that one and excels in two songs from the little-known and wonderfully weird Passion. But she is also given the final solo of “Send in the Clowns,” which feels a bit pale in comparison to a couple classic versions. (Some of the clumsier covers—a C&W banjo version?!--are lampooned nicely in Act One).

Other standouts include Emily Walton, who rides the hyper-paced “Getting Married Today” with razor-sharp enunciation, and Brian Sutherland who burnishes “Finishing the Hat” from Sunday in the Park with George into a splendid reflection on the creative process.

While Sondheim reveals a lot about the way he works, he doesn’t divulge much about his life. The one exception is shown in a clip from an interview with TV’s Diane Sawyer that is stupefying in its cruelty to the young Sondheim. But, as this show points out, he’s definitely getting the last laugh.

Sondheim on Sondheim

Through July 8, produced by Great Lakes Theater and PlayhouseSquare at the Hanna Theatre, 2067 E. 14th St.