On An Average Day, None Too Fragile

(Some brother combinations do great things, like the Wright Brothers above. Then there are the brothers in this play,)

Thank goodness there’s an endless supply of dysfunctional people in the world, and even more in our imaginations. So we’re assured of never running short of the kind of brothers who are featured in On An Average Day by John Kolvenbach, now at the None Too Fragile theater in Akron.

Even though there are plenty of edgy plays about unsteady people living in squalid conditions, this script is a more well written example of the genre, with dialog that often crackles with mordant wit.

Squatting in his rundown family house, in a kitchen piled with old newspapers, Bob is a hot mess. But his brother Jack has arrived to help. Or has he?

As the two argue over beers grabbed from an odiferous fridge while listening to a bathroom shower that turns on at random moments, we learn a bit about their family’s history.

It’s not until the second act that more details come into focus, with a clever and unique turn that almost makes the script work splendidly.

The production benefits from two fine performances by co-directors Sean Derry and Mark Mayo. It’s nice to have Derry (co-founder of the defunct Bang and Clatter Theatre) back on an area stage, even though he’s playing his umpty-umpth slouching, mumbling derelict. Using his well-honed naturalistic delivery to splendid effect, Derry fully embodies the mentally tormented Bob.

And Mayo’s Jack, a supposedly more grounded adult than his squirrely bro, provides solid counterpoint to Derry’s rants. In the second act, Mayo hits cruising speed with a diatribe about their father that is totally gripping.

But this is far from a perfect script or an ideal production. Playwright Kolvenbach omits many details about the brothers’ lives, including virtually no mention of their mother or how they existed in their teens.

And while actors Derry and Mayo are often brilliant, overlapping their lines in a manner that feels true and honest, they also occasionally disconnect from the audience and the material.

While the overlapping dialogue is done to perfection, it eliminates the need for the characters to hear and bounce off each other. This lessens the tension and becomes tedious at times. Also, there are many moments when speeches are delivered into the middle distance, instead of at each other. Perhaps a director who wasn’t acting in the scene at the time could have corrected some of this.

Even with the glitches, there is snap in much of Kolvenbach’s material, and a second act turn that perfectly justifies the title. And that makes this first work by the newly reborn None Too Fragile theater a flawed but feisty winner.

On An Average Day

Through October 20 at the None Too Fragile Theater, 1841 Merriman Road (in the back room of Pub Bricco), Akron, 330-671-4563.

Anything Goes, PlayhouseSquare

At the beginning of every new theater season, we are reminded of how lucky we are to have Broadway touring companies docking at our splendid PlayhouseSquare venues.

For indeed, there are particular pleasures that can only be attained by watching sumptuously costumed professionals do their thing on a stage replete with three-level sets and monstrous banks of lighting. On the other hand, there are some glitches that these touring shows often trip on, from time to time.

A ton of the good and a faint smattering of the not-so-good are on display in Anything Goes at the Palace Theatre.

This production, produced by the Roundabout Theatre Company and winner of Tonys in 2011 for Best Revival and Best Choreography, is a visual delight. From the first scene in a cozy Manhattan bar to the deck of the luxurious ship crossing the Atlantic, you’re bathed in a bygone world of cosseted consumption. (Bygone that is, except for the 1%,.)

But the star of the show is, as always, the timeless tunes featuring music and lyrics by Cole Porter, the master of the dry musical quip. Those songs—“It’s De-lovely,” “Friendship,” and “I Get a Kick Out of You” among them—are sufficient for any show to be a success.

As for plot, suffice to say it’s a grab bag of casual happenstances, mistaken identities and romantic dust-ups. These swirl around Reno Sweeney, an evangelist turned nightclub singer and Billy Crocker, a young Wall Street hotshot who’s smitten by Hope Harcourt who happens to be engaged to wealthy Brit and twit, Lord Evelyn Oakleigh.

The strong cast sings Porter’s numbers with the right amount of 1930s panache. And the whole company hoofs a couple rousing ditties—the Act One closer “Anything Goes” and the Act Two opener “Blow, Gabriel Blow”—with astounding precision and verve.

And the script, penned by a gaggle of fine humorists over the years and through several revisions, offers a rich mother lode of cringe-worthy japes and time-tested zingers.  

In the central role of Reno, Rachel York exudes supreme confidence and dances well enough to keep director Kathleen Marshall’s ambitious and rousing choreography on track. Erich Bergen is a tall, handsome and affecting Billy, pursuing his love while impersonating a celebrity criminal.

Edward Staudenmayer has plenty of fun with the Lord Evelyn character, botching American slang (“I say, anyone have hot pants for a game of shuffleboard?”) at every turn. And speaking of hot pants, Joyce Chittick as Erma is a one-woman sailor relief program as she cuts a sensuous swath through the ship’s crew.

The small glitches show up when sturdy pros wind up mailing in some of their scenes. This is particularly true with Fred Applegate in the featured role of Moonface Martin, “Public Enemy No. 13.” In his “Friendship” duet with Reno, and at other times, you can see him consciously hitting his marks instead of being fully absorbed in the part.

Applegate is experienced enough to nail his laugh lines with exacting timing, but his casual approach at other moments bespeaks the downside of “touring company” mentality. Since this is the first stop on the show’s 25+ city tour, maybe he’s saving himself.

Anyhow, this is another chance to see and hear those great Porter songs, and another opportunity to see ensemble tap dancing that virtually lifts you out of your seat. And should be worth a ticket in anyone’s budget.

Anything Goes

Through October 14 at the Palace Theatre, PlayhouseSquare, 1615 Euclid Avenue, 216-241-6000.

Kardiac Kid, Cleveland Public Theatre

Wherever that couch is, there is still a dent in the cushion left by my leaden butt after Red Right 88 ended our dreams of a Browns’ Superbowl appearance in 1981. I don’t think I moved for hours, maybe days, stupefied. Food had to be brought to me, as if I was bedridden. And comatose.

I say this for those who weren’t around at the time, so they know exactly how devastating that loss was. Playing the endless loop of the wayward end zone pass that landed in defender Mike Davis’ hands instead of Ozzie Newsome’s. With less than a minute left! With the ball on the opponent’s 13 yard line, in easy range for a winning field goal!

This is important, because the one-man production The Kardiac Kid, by playwright and performer Eric Schmiedl and now at Cleveland Public Theatre, treads on sensitive and depressingly sacred ground. If he doesn’t get the vibe right about this event, then the whole play lands like a leaden Mike Phipp’s incompletion.

Happily, Schmiedl approaches the tragedy with the proper amount of gravitas, inching up on it as he takes us through the entire 1980 Browns’ season. Diagramming plays and showing photos on an overhead projector (a nice ‘80s touch), he captures the essence of the Browns team under coach Sam Rutigliano and quarterback Brian Sipe.

But the playwright and director Bill Hoffman do much more than that, by following four different storylines of fans who were affected by the eventual cataclysm. Teenage girl Abigail, the Catholic priest Father Carey, tool & die man Eddie (along with his magic Browns knit cap) and busboy-turned-assistant-chef Henry are each living their lives while intertwined with the fate of their city’s beloved team.

As a writer, Schmiedl has a pointillist’s eye for telling details, taking the time to observe how Abigail treasures her new school clothes, how the priest relates to his sly old hound Stanley, and relishing the aroma of west side Eddie’s chicken paprikash.

And as a performer, Schmiedl is enormously warm and folksy without being cloying. Speaking primarily as a narrator, he leads us through the tale of woe with a gangly, softly modulated honesty that always rings true. At times, he feels like the Cleveland version of Will Rogers, calm and affable, except in those moments when his temper flares over The Pick or our hated rivals in Pittspuke, er, burgh.

Interestingly, Schmiedl doesn’t simmer in the rancid juices of that play, he just steps up to it and then stops. This may be frustrating for those who don’t have a profound, visceral memory of what happened that day more than 30 years ago.

And the playwright makes a couple stutter steps in the wrong direction, especially when he drags in maudlin scenes involving Henry’s love life and a kitchen mishap. Plus, he can’t resist a thematic summing up at the end that undercuts the subtlety he has employed throughout.

Still, The Kardiac Kid is a poignant love letter to the Browns, to the city and to those who suffer to this day in our orange and brown knit caps. With a pom pom on top.

The Kardiac Kid

Through October 20 at Cleveland Public Theatre, 6415 Detroit Ave., 216-631-2727.

The Winter’s Tale, Great Lakes Theater

If you don’t know what’s coming in The Winter’s Tale, now at Great Lakes Theater, you may feel you wandered back after intermission and were transported into a different play.

After a chilly first act filled with jealous rages and tyrannically callous rulings, culminating in deaths, the second act opens on a storybook land of happy people, singing and dancing, and general merriment. Say what?

Welcome to the fractured world of this Shakespearean “problem” play, where magical thinking and mystical happenings rule the day. And while there are definite pleasures to be had in this production, director Jesse Berger hangs first-time observers of this confusing play out to dry.

In Sicilia, King Leontes, proud father of young son Mamillius, is all bro-mantic with longtime friend and guest, King Polixenes of Bohemia. But soon fevered Leontes thinks he detects some hanky-panky between his pregnant wife Hermione and his old buddy.

So the innocent Polixenes (a strong Lynn Robert Berg) books and Leontes confines his queen and son to a dungeon where she gives birth to a girl, whom Leontes orders be banished and left to expire in nature (thinking it is Pol’s  kid). Later, Leontes learns that Hermione and his beloved son have both died under his repressive rule, hectored along the way by Paulina, Hermione’s close friend.

After all that sturm and drang, the second act opens 16 years later in Bohemia, a happy land where the baby Perdita, rescued by a Shepherd and his son, has grown into a lovely young miss in love with Prince Florizel, the son of Polixenes.

The lovebirds eventually make their way back to Sicilia, where a happy reunion occurs, a statue of Hermione is unveiled, and magic happens.

The first act ripples with anger, mostly due to David Anthony Smith as Leontes. Trouble is, his outrage is so sudden and florid, it seems comical at times, recalling many of Smith's funny performances at exactly the wrong time. Lise Bruneau does what she can with the inhumanely noble and passive Hermione, willingly going off to her hubby’s slammer even though she is blameless.

Some of the sharpest riffs are delivered by an excellent Laurie Birmingham as Paulina, who is the only one in the court with sufficient balls to tell Leontes he’s a jerk.

When the baby is left on a shore to fend for herself, the servant who put her there, Antigonus, is chased and eaten by a bear (calling up the famous stage direction: “Exit, pursued by a Bear.”).

Once in the hippy haven of Bohemia, Perdita and Lorizel show off their fondness with great warmth, in the persons of Kimbre Lancaster and Miles Gaston Villanueva. But the comic relief supposedly afforded by the Shepherd and his son is undercut by predictable schtick cranked out by, respectively, M.A. Taylor and Juan Rivera Lebron.

But that’s nothing compared to the over-the-top antics of Tom Ford as the rogue Autolycus. Assaulting the stage like Rip Taylor on speed, Ford stretches his admittedly adept comic skills until they snap and unravel. After all, directorial indulgence of an actor’s whims should observe some limits.

There are many fascinating themes in this piece involving the salving effects of time, the conflict between art and nature, and the destructive power of jealousy.

But many of these intriguing ideas are buried under the difficult structure of the play itself. There should be some way to help the uninitiated through this welter of confusion, but it isn’t provided by director Berger.

That said, it must be noted that the scenic design by David M. Barber is entirely enthralling. The costumes by Sara Jean Tosetti, however, often look like the scene after a particularly nasty explosion in a costume shop.

And the bear, while large and astounding, seems more suited to another play. As do several of the performances themselves.

The Winter’s Tale

Through November 4 at Great Lakes Theater, 2067 E. 14^th Street, 216-241-6000

Proof, Lakeland Civic Theatre

(Mitchell Fields as Robert and Elizabeth Conway as Catherine)

Just as it’s impossible for us to realize we’re on a planet that is spinning at 1000 miles per hour, while we’re standing still, it’s often difficult for a mentally imbalanced person to recognize their condition.

That is only one of the myriad concepts that arise in Proof by David Auburn, a fascinating play being given a superb production at the Lakeland Civic Theatre. Revolving around a father and daughter, both of whom are gifted but troubled mathematicians, the play peels back layers of both science and humanity—but in a continually entertaining and deeply affecting way.

Auburn’s skill as a playwright is shown from the first scene, which ends with a surprising revelation. And that information fuels the rest of the play, a story that involves heady discussions of mathematical proofs and proof of authorship—not to mention professional ethics and familial trust.

The father, Robert, was a renowned professor of math at the University of Chicago, but his latter days are dogged by a mental decline. His daughter Catherine is also a math whiz but fears she may also share her father’s mental difficulties since she is often depressed and confrontational.

When an astounding mathematical proof is found, Catherine claims authorship but her sister Claire doubts it and Hal, one of Robert’s students, also has his doubts. The interweaving of these four characters is masterfully handled by playwright Auburn, and delivered with professional assurance under the sensitive direction of Martin Friedman.

As Hal, Aaron Elersich is completely natural and affecting as the nerdy Hal, nurturing his growing interest in Catherine while clinging to his inbred skepticism as a scientist. Although a bit too brittle at first, Laurel Hoffman eases effectively into the difficult role of Claire, a balanced woman with a successful life who feels so apart from her sibling and her dad.

Mitchell Fields is brilliant as Robert, displaying both warmth and the core resolve that drive him in his careet. His later scene when he realizes how far his mental capabilities have deteriorated is quietly, profoundly devastating.

And major kudos must go to Elizabeth Conway, who brews up a rich portrayal as Catherine. Walking many fine lines while never overstepping or going for the easy choice, Conway is utterly convincing as this troubled woman endowed with a genius mind. Plus, she’s funny at times, giving the play a much-needed breath of relief now and then.

Proof won a Pulitzer and a Tony for good reason. And this production displays all the reasons why it’s an experience not to be missed.

Proof

Through October 7 at the Lakeland Civic Theatre,

Lakeland Community College, Rt. 306 and I-90, Kirtland, 440-525-7134

Xanadu, Beck Center

 When it comes to light and frothy musicals, the froth doesn’t get much airier than it is in Xanadu, the jukebox musical now at Beck Center.

Featuring the 1980’s era pop stylings of Olivia Newton-John and the Electric Light Orchestra, with many parody references to the film of the same name that bombed (and then became a cult fave), the play is a self-aware festival of harmless schlock and a bushel of meta jokes at its own expense.

For the uninitiated, the muse Clio, renamed Kira, has come down from Mt. Olympus—disguised as an Australian girl wearing roller skates and leg warmers—to help Venice Beach chalk artist Sonny realize his life’s ambition: opening a roller disco.

So they approach a hot shot real estate agent, Danny, who is also a failed clarinetist. See, he was inspired years before by Clio (in another guise), but he chose the path of making money and shunned the arts. Losing Clio’s heart in the process.

Two of Clio’s six muse sisters, Melpomene and Calliope, try to sabotage her efforts by making her fall in love with Sonny and thereby forcing her to lose her standing as a goddess.

Of course, silliness ensues, all in the service of familiar soft-rock songs such as “Strange Magic,” “Evil Woman,” and the title ditty.

Goofy as it is, that doesn’t make it easy to play. The tendency with this kind of fluff is to overdo the shtick until the play is stuck is a death spiral of actors straining to hard to nail every song and kill with each gag.

This production directed by Scott Spence exhibits some of those unfortunate traits, with several familiar tunes screeched instead of sung, and a few punch lines punched so hard they go cross-eyed.

But the nine-person cast develops a workable vibe thanks in part to Martin Cespedes’ tongue-in-cheek choreography, much of which would fit nicely into a Partridge Family TV reunion special.

In the central role of Kira, Kathleen Rooney has the requisite blonde good looks and a strong voice, although her obvious attempts at singing with an Aussie accent sometimes go awry. As Sonny, Sam Wolf has the blank expression of a clueless ‘80s dude and happily underplays some of his lines.

The comical combo of Melpomene and Calliope is portrayed by Amiee Collier and Leslie Andrews with varying degrees of success. When they relax into their characters, they’re very funny. But when they’re forcing the jokes, it feels like you’re being jabbed in the ribs once too often.

Greg Violand lends his smooth singing as Danny, although it’s too bad there’s no clarinetist in the band to give voice to his character’s licorice stick.

The other four sisters dance and sing backup. Kathleen Ferrini and Maggie Stahl handle their duties with style but most of the laughs go to the cross-dressed Ben Donahoo and Matthew Ryan Thompson (who also turns in a smooth tap number as young Danny).

This Xanadu, while not exactly a pleasure dome throughout, is often diverting and certainly looks handsome on Trad A Burns’ set featuring Greek columns with disco lights inside.

Xanadu

Through October 14 at the Beck Center, 11801 Detroit Avenue, Lakewood, 216-521-2540

The Merchant of Venice, Ohio Shakespeare Festival

(Robert Hawkes as Shylock, brandishing his flesh extractor.)

Everyone loves a good courtroom scene where clever arguments are launched, the tables are turned and the bad guy comes up a loser. And with all due respect to Perry Mason and the books of John Grisham, nobody has ever done it better than Shakespeare, in his climactic scene in The Merchant of Venice.

Shylock argues, persuasively if not compassionately, for his “pound of flesh” from Antonio, and Antonio’s lawyer (Portia in disguise) at first agrees with Shylock and then attacks with telling legalities. And it’s all done with style in this Ohio Shakespeare Festival production, directed with brisk assuredness by Terry Burgler.

Trouble is, it’s not very easy to identify who the real bad guys are, in the court or elsewhere. And that’s a good thing. Indeed, nothing about this play has ever been easy, since it’s a romantic comedy in which the most compelling character, the Jewish usurer Shylock, is written as a monster with what many have claimed are definite anti-Semitic touches by the playwright. Are you laughing yet?

In the keystone role of Shylock, Robert Hawkes is the anti-Pacino, portraying a soft-spoken man with slumped shoulders and gentle gestures, but hardened by a spine composed of hardened, annealed anger. Hawkes’ Shylock is wedded to the hate he has developed over years of religious discrimination in Venice, and he wears it comfortably. And that makes his stubborn insistence on vengeance, by legally carving up Antonio, even more disturbing than if he were ranting and foaming.

Meanwhile, the humorous side of the play is handled with dispatch. As Portia, the rich heiress who is continually auditioning potential mates, Lara Knox is as enticing as she is clever. She is attended by Nerissa (Tess Burgler), a woman who adds her own layer of witty commentary. The scene when two hapless prince/suitors (Derrick Winger and Mark Stoffer) try to select the right treasure chest and thereby win the hand of Portia is a delight. 

The merchant in the title, Antonio, is given a solid if not particularly magnetic treatment by David McNees, and Joe Pine makes Bassanio a very sympathetic suitor for Portia.

Inevitably, the comedy and drama sometimes clash—it’s hard to chuckle about the "missing ring" lark after Shylock has been divested of his money and property and forced to become a Christian(!). Especially if you view him, justifiably, as more victim than perp.

It all just gives you more to haggle about on your trip home from Stan Hywet. But make sure, on your trip there, to leave early enough to see the Greenshow, directed by Ms. Burgler, that starts a half-hour before curtain. This time, the featured piece is a mash-up of Romeo and Juliet and West Side Story, complete with finger cymbals. It’s a hoot.

The Merchant of Venice

Through August 19, produced by the Ohio Shakespeare Festival at Stan Hywet Hall & Gardens, 714 N. Portage Path, Akron, 330-673-8761, info@ohioshakespeare.com.