Don’t Miss Don’t Dress for Dinner

HART Theatre is back, roaring into the (somewhat) post-pandemic milieu with a nostalgic reprise. When HART moved into its current building in 2007, the first play staged was playwright Marc Camoletti’s broad French farce, Don’t Dress for Dinner, and the show was supposed to open March 20, 2020 as part of the Hillsboro company’s 25th season. As we all know, the advent of Covid-19 sent the theater world into two-year state of mostly suspended animation, and like many local stages HART is now picking up right where it left off – Don’t Dress for Dinner finally opened on March 18 to an enthusiastic audience who clearly felt that it was worth the wait!

First-time director Dawn Sellers has assembled a fine cast, including one veteran of the 2007 production – her husband Doug Sellers, who acted as both cheerleader and mentor as she tackled the challenging show. All six actors bring impressive resumes to the production, as do many members of the production team, and the result of Sellers’ direction and her support network is a charming play with great lighting, a clean and well-constructed set, period-appropriate costumes, and the comic timing, blocking, and restraint necessary for compelling farce.

For those of you who (like me) are not familiar with the play, a little background will help. Camoletti is best known for Boeing Boeing, which had a 7-year run in London starting in 1962 and has since become one of the defining farces of American professional and community theater. A sequel, Pyjama Pour Six, premiered in 1987, and was later adapted for English language audiences by Robin Hawdon as Don’t Dress for Dinner. The play retains its French setting, characters, and Gallic cultural themes – in particular, the stereotypical attitude toward marital fidelity or lack thereof.  The action starts quickly: Bernard has orchestrated a scheme that will allow him to spend the weekend with his mistress, Suzanne, at his country home near Paris. Wife Jacqueline is preparing to visit her ailing mother, and Bernard’s friend Robert is coming to provide an “alibi” for Bernard’s weekend activities, including the importation of a Cordon Bleu chef  (Suzette) to handle lavish meal preparation. When Suzanne learns that Robert is coming, she invents an excuse to stay home so she can spend time with him (Bernard does not know that Robert and Suzette are embroiled in a passionate affair). Bernard’s problem? How to explain Suzanne’s arrival to his wife. His solution? He tells Robert to pretend that Suzanne is his lover – something Robert is hesitant to do, since Suzanne will be upset that he is playing around with another woman. Robert reluctantly agrees, and plans to explain the scheme to Suzanne – but Suzette, the caterer, arrives first. Confused about the names, Robert enlists Suzette to play as his mistress. When Suzanne arrives, she is then cast into the role of caterer, despite her woeful inadequacy in the kitchen. Got that? If you need more, go see the show!

Each of the cast members shine in their own special way, but Doug Goodrum (Robert) really holds the show together. He is constantly tasked with explaining the unexplainable to other characters, a job complicated by the fact that he has to quickly adapt the story to fit each new arrival. He panics, stumbles over his words, and takes meaty pauses that are believably those of a befuddled sidekick (“you cooked a book?” is a frequent refrain), yet somehow keeps us clear on the tortuous path of farce.  Doug Sellers is relegated to the thankless role of a straight man, creating a convincingly odious Bernard.

Sarah Kearney’s “Suzette” is the unsophisticated rube in the room, yet you can see in her eyes and hear in her delivery the wily peasant street smarts that allow her to profit mightily from her role in the deception, and she provides fearless physical comedy.  Katie Prentiss (Suzanne) is appropriately lovely and convincingly clumsy and clueless as a chef – my front-row seat was startlingly close to the splash zone!  As the betrayed and betraying Jacqueline, Kira Smolev moves seamlessly from loving wife and daughter to passionate lover, yielding to confusion and finally smoldering fury as she gradually figures out what’s actually happening. The final character, Suzette’s husband George, is a smaller role that provides less opportunity for actor John Knowles – but he provides the slightly dim and threatening, hardheaded bulk that the part requires.

I applaud Sellers’ choice to skip the French accents – it’s awkward, and they are after all portraying characters speaking their native language. However, I did miss a Gallic touch in the set dressing. Other than the two small (and obligatory) pictures of a cow and a pig, there were no décor elements that suggested a French country villa, and this made it harder to relate to the players and situation as being specifically French. 

It’s been a tough couple of years for most of us, and there are still some pretty ominous winds blowing about. It’s a great time for a lively evening of comedy including lots of laugh out loud moments to give us a little respite from the stress and uncertainty of Covid, Putin, porch pirates, and a nationwide shortage of about 4,000,000 homes. HART’s Don’t Dress for Dinner is good medicine for the spirit with its complex story line full of uncomplicated fun.

Don’t Dress for Dinner is playing at the HART Theatre, 185 SE Washington, Hillsboro through Sunday, April 3, with performances Friday and Saturday at 7:30 p.m. and Sunday at 2:00 p.m. 

Deathtrap Resurrected at Mask & Mirror

Picture (by Michael Martinez) shows Diana LoVerso, Blaine Vincent III,
Jeff Ekdahl, Patricia Alston, and Bud Reece

 

By Tina Arth

Almost two years ago, I attended Mask & Mirror’s opening-night performance of Deathtrap, playwright Ira Levin’s classic dark comedy of deception. A few short days later (and before I had submitted a review), Covid-19 tore across the planet, and much of the world as we knew it, (including this particular production), immediately shut down. In a truly epic demonstration of the “show must go on” principle, Mask & Mirror has brought Deathtrap back to life. In some ways the show is virtually unchanged - it’s got the same director (Tony Broom), four of five original cast members, and essentially the same set – other than some new curtains and a bit of paint, I could almost have been at the original 2000 opening. However, in the ways that count, the current production is markedly more enjoyable – so even if you saw one of the original two performances, you should definitely plan to go back.

For Deathtrap virgins, a bit of background is in order. Playwright Sydney Bruhl, author of several popular murder mysteries, is in the depths of a prolonged slump. He’s been living off the faded glory of past hits and the gradually shrinking bank account of his wife, Myra, when he receives an unsolicited script from Clifford Anderson, a student from one of Sydney’s writing workshops. The script is maddeningly good – a sure smash, so good that Sydney and Myra concoct a devious scheme. They will resurrect Sydney’s career by tricking Clifford into “collaborating” (i.e., giving Sydney partial credit) for the finished product. From here, the plot begins a rapid-fire series of twists and turns, some diabolical and some simply ludicrous, as we meet young Clifford, a bizarre psychic neighbor named Helga Ten Dorp, and Sydney’s seemingly dingy but sharp-eyed lawyer, Porter Milgram.

The performances of the two women in the cast, Patricia Alston (as Myra) and Diana LoVerso (as Helga), can be credited with a significant share of the show’s improvement. Where their previous performances were solidly competent, both women now strive for and achieve real comic heights, using timing and physical comedy to ensure that every one of Levin’s farcical moments gets its due – and they are irresistible when they play off each other.

I must not dismiss the impact of Blaine Vincent III, the one new cast member, in his portrayal of Clifford Anderson. I can’t really describe his best moments without giving away too much of the plot, especially in some intense interactions with Jeff Ekdahl (Sydney) - leave it that he brings a solid and believable physicality to a demanding role. Ekdahl also delivers a strong performance – in a play filled with deception, he displays a chameleon-like ability to deceive both the audience and his cast-mates. Bud Reece (Porter Milgrim) has less opportunity to shine in a smaller role, but he still manages to surprise us a few times!

Just as in 2000, I was less impressed by the set design – for me, the story has maximum effect in a somewhat darker and more intimate space, with an abundance of macabre décor.  The spacious Rise Church Main Stage, often an asset, allows for cast members to be too far apart in some key scenes – there are times that Myra’s physical reactions to Clifford and Sydney are difficult to track because of the distance between the stimulus and the response.

Costume designers Kelcey Weaver and Jodi Johnson have done a great job of capturing the questionable fashion choices of the era – in particular, both Ekdahl and Vincent are imbued with late-seventies kitsch.

The timing of this production is perfect – thing are opening up rapidly, we are all ready for an undemanding evening of live theater, and the Mask & Mirror production provides a great place for the theater-hesitant to jump back in (with the comfort of knowing that they won’t even let you go upstairs to the lobby without proof of vaccination and a mask!).

Mask & Mirror’s Deathtrap runs Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm and Sundays at 2:30 pm through March 20 at “The Stage” at Rise Church, 10445 SW Canterbury Lane, Tigard, 97224.

 

Twilight Offers Fertile Ground for Quality of Death

Picture shows Margie Boulé, Olivia
Henry, Paul Roder and Ira Kortum

 

By Tina Arth

Quality of Death, a Thinking Peoples’ Theatre production by playwright Ruth Jenkins, has a unique pedigree. It is an original show first offered in live stream format as part of the the 2022 Portland Area Theatre Alliance (PATA) Fertile Ground Festival, for which all productions were done virtually – yet it is continuing life as a fully staged drama hosted by North Portland’s Twilight Theater. I was privileged to be part of a small in-house audience for this remarkable show’s opening night live stream, and I’m glad that so many people could enjoy the show remotely that weekend, but I’m even happier that many more folk will have the opportunity I did of seeing the show performed in person for the next two weeks.

Be forewarned – Quality of Death is no stroll in the park! The play explores the journeys of five families who come together in a support group as they negotiate the dreaded “d” word – “death” – of a loved one. The individual stories are diverse – there’s dementia, Parkinson’s, cancer, COPD, and garden variety (if extreme) old age – what ties them together is that in each case the deceased exerts control over their own death to end suffering or simply to pass on their own terms – true death with dignity. One story involves conventional suicide, while the others all embark on their final journeys by turning away from medical treatment and sustenance, allowing death to come naturally as their bodies simply shut down.

The drama (and often unexpected humor) of Quality of Death arises from the tension between the dying and the family members determined to keep them alive at any cost. With the help of the support group, including members of a medical establishment willing to provide compassionate guidance, reluctant loved ones come to accept that their role is to accept the inevitability of death and embrace the love and empathy necessary to provide a good last day.

The large cast (16 actors portray 24 different characters) means it’s impossible to recognize every strong performance, but I’ll highlight several that touched me most. First among equals is Allie Rivenbark (Teri), who captures both the physical and vocal challenges of progressively debilitating Parkinson’s disease with amazing consistency, yet uses humor and sarcasm to ward off the potentially maudlin overtones of her situation and keep us rooting for her right to die. As her partner Kathryn, Leslie Inmon gives us the other side – the passionate insistence on fighting until the last breath a battle that, as the playwright makes clear, is not hers to fight.

Anyone who has ever done a true death watch should respond to the absolute authenticity of the dialogue and physical performances given by Paul Roder (Charlie) and Pat Lach (Martha) as they move down the road to that final breath. Pat’s querulous, self-centered character is perfectly recognizable as the archetype of one variety of hard-headed old lady – well loved, yes, but not easy to love. Paul, on the other hand, creates an unforgettably sly and playful old devil who will be sincerely mourned by the three generations of descendants we meet on stage. Olivia Henry (Devon) turns in a beautiful performance as Charlie’s great granddaughter, the one family member (in fact, the one cast member) most comfortable with allowing a loved one to go in peace when the time has come.

Ira Kortum becomes two very different men for his two roles – as Max, losing his young wife, he is movingly frightened and grief-stricken, while he is stoic but a bit bewildered as Charlie’s grandson Jeff, trapped between his mother’s stubborn denial and his daughter’s persistent support of the old man’s wishes. Tony Domingue is a treat to watch in his larger role as Martha’s son-in-law Ross – he’s an island of calm in the storm of emotions roiling the immediate family.

Quality of Death presents some unusual challenges, both thematically and in the pure mechanics of staging so many characters and scenes without confusing the audience or muddling the messaging.  Theresa Robbins Dudeck’s direction keeps the train on the tracks – it’s a long show with some exceptionally intense moments, but she never allows her actors or the audience to lose focus. The set is simple and flexible enough to keep things moving along quickly, and many of the best spots are enhanced by some brilliant lighting effects.

I found myself both deeply moved and, as the author clearly intended, educated by the play. There are times where detailed descriptions of the mechanics of dying verge on the didactic, but given the topic this may be unavoidable. If you can get to this show, by all means do!

Thinking Peoples’ Theatre Project’s live run performances of Quality of Death can be seen at 8:00 pm on February 11, 12, 18, and 19, and at 3:00 pm on Sunday, February 13 at Twilight Theatre, 7571 N. Brandon Avenue, Portland.

Love Letters – One Show, Two Casts!

 

 Peter Bolger and Rebecca Rowland Hines

 Ron Harman and Virginia Kincaid

Photos by Linda Talluto

 

By Tina Arth

It’s hard to imagine a show better suited to production in the middle of a pandemic than A. R. Gurney’s classic Love Letters. With only two cast members and minimal sets, lighting, and sound requirements it’s got it all: a tiny cast with no direct interaction between the actors means social distancing is a breeze, the actors can actually read their scripts (in the form of the letters) so there is less need for extensive in-person rehearsal, and the minimal design requirements mean that the production can be done relatively inexpensively, allowing for intentionally limited audiences without creating a huge financial burden for the theater company. In fact, many of these features have made the show an attractive option for small companies even in pre-pandemic times.

That said, this is not a simple show for either actors or directors, and I take issue with the assertion (in the show’s Wikipedia entry) that it “requires little preparation, and lines need not be memorized.”  I saw Mask & Mirror’s two casts last week, and it was clear to me that the quality of the show was a direct result of careful preparation on the part of the actors and a steady hand from Director Linda Talluto. Most important, it was amazing how clearly the two pairings (Rebecca Rowland Hines with Peter Bolger, and Virginia Kincaid with Ron Harman) were able, by carefully working with the lines, making them their own, and developing their own chemistry, to present two entirely different shows with exactly the same script.

A quick synopsis is in order, for those unfamiliar with the story. Melissa Gardner and Andrew (Andy) Makepeace Ladd III, friends since early childhood, have maintained a relationship primarily through letters for about six decades. The actors alternate reading their letters, painting a picture of a complex relationship that defies easy categorization. Flighty, sometimes scatterbrained (and very wealthy) Melissa hates the discipline of writing, and from the earliest letters she often adorns her work with pictures that express her ebullient nature and her budding talent as an artist. Andy, on the other hand, from early childhood is the sort who always colors inside the lines – he’s a rule follower and a conformist. While reasonably wealthy, he still feels a bit insecure about the economic gap between his family and Melissa’s. As the years pass, the two friends go in very different directions – Andy to law school, a prominent firm, a solidly respectable marriage with kids and a Golden Retriever, and ultimately the U. S. Senate. Melissa’s path includes lots of turmoil as she is shuttled throughout her childhood between her divorced parents and her grandmother. After being asked to leave a few schools, she studies art in Italy, has a failed marriage, and loses custody of two children due to her emotional instability.  Enough said – if you want to know how it ends, you’ll need to go see the show at least once. However, I recommend seeing it twice to evaluate for yourself how the characterizations change when played by different actors!

I vowed not to compare the two casts, and will adhere to that promise. All cast members do a fine job of reading as children in the earliest letters, without presenting a parody of how children talk – and they then seamlessly transition to adolescence and various stages of adulthood. It is clear that each actor has carefully crafted an approach, both when they are reading and when they are listening and silently reacting to their partner – be sure to watch both actors at all times to get the most of the unwritten emotional impact of the story.

Because it’s set between 1937 and 1988, many of the social conventions that bind Andy, Melissa, and their peers seem antiquated, but there are universal themes of relationships that transcend the limitations of the author’s chosen era.  Because of some adult content, this is not a show that is really appropriate for children – but it’s hard to imagine young children being remotely interested in the story and pacing anyway. For the rest of us, Mask & Mirror’s production can serve as a safe and gentle, but still very moving, reintroduction to the world of live theater.

Mask & Mirror’s production of Love Letters runs through Saturday, February 12^th in The Chapel at Rise Church, 10445 SW Canterbury Lane, Tigard.  Virginia and Ron perform on February 5^th (2:00 pm) and February 11^th (7:30 pm). Rebecca and Peter perform February 4^th and 5^th (7:30 pm) and February 12^th (2:00 pm).