Mamma Mia! What a Mamma Mia! By Tina Arth

 

Ashley Moore, Jennifer Grimes, and Leslie Inmon

There are many reasons to love Forest Grove’s venerable community theater, Theatre in the Grove, but the one that really stands out to me is that TITG is fully committed to its mission to make theater arts accessible to the broadest possible community. The current production of Mamma Mia! Is a superb example – a crowd-pleasing musical for a wide audience that also gives scores (43 by my count) of stage veterans and newbies the opportunity to participate in the magic of making live theater. The lists of cast, crew, and orchestra include lots of locals, but TITG also takes advantage of talent from all over the Portland metro area (and the occasional exchange student!). Director Dorinda Toner and her production team have taken the unique abilities of this little horde of vocalists, actors, dancers, musicians, and techies, and molded them into a cohesive unit that has the audience singing and dancing (or at least clapping more or less on beat) by the end of Act II.

Although it was a smash hit when first staged in 1999 and remains wildly popular, Playwright Catherine Johnson’s jukebox musical built around the music of ABBA is, IMHO, fatally flawed as dramatic art by the disconnect between the book and the music – there are plot holes wider than the Bermuda Triangle. Remarkably, when produced with unabashed flair and the right sense of humor (and this Mamma Mia! most definitely is) it just doesn’t matter. As long as the orchestra is solid, solos bright, harmonies tight, costumes flamboyant, and dancers enthusiastic, the audience will have as much fun as the performers. It also doesn’t hurt if you like the music of ABBA, but are not so obsessive that occasional changes in lyrics or arrangements ruin the experience. 

In case you don’t know the basic story – Donna is a forty-something woman who has built a taverna on an unnamed Greek island. Daughter Sophie is getting married, and she would like her father to walk her down the aisle – but she doesn’t know who her father is (Donna had a bit of a wild youth, and the dad could be any one of three men). Unbeknownst to her mother, Sophie has invited Bill, Harry, and Sam (the possible sperm donors) to the wedding, thinking that she’ll know which one is really her dad when she meets them. Also on the island? Donna’s two best friends from the good old days, Tanya and Rosie. And of course Sophie’s fiancé Sky and her best friends Ali and Lisa, plus a couple of bartenders and a healthy dose of lively locals. Donna thinks Sophie is too young to marry, and Sophie thinks her mother should perhaps have considered marriage in lieu of promiscuity and the burdens of single parenthood. As they sing and dance their way through some 26 ABBA songs, the cast members work out their problems and (in classic musical comedy fashion) everything comes out just fine.

Theatre in the Grove newcomer Madeline Hui  is simply perfect as Sophie – she is a fine actor, and her lovely soprano voice is flawless from the opening number, “I Have a Dream,” through the celebratory epilogue. The other key role features TITG veteran Jennifer Grimes, a beautiful belter who was born to play this role – she has that brilliant combination of strength and vulnerability essential to the role of Donna, and her hate/love relationship with Sam (played by her husband, James Grimes) gives us the most intense emotional moments in the show.

With such a large cast, I can’t possibly recognize everybody who deserves it – but when you go watch for Donna, Tanya (Ashley Moore), and Rosie (Leslie Inmon) killing it with “Chiquitita” and “Dancing Queen,” the amazing “Super Trouper” (featuring the entire female ensemble), and some truly eye-popping chemistry between Moore and Max Marckel (Pepper) as well as Inmon and Nick Serrone (Bill).  The entire ensemble leaves it all on the stage in the many dance numbers, with a special nod to the younger ensemble members who contribute irresistible, uninhibited, and nonstop joie de vivre.

James Grimes’ set design is attractive and clever, allowing many scene changes with minimal delay. Ward Ramsdell and Sandy Cronin have done a marvelous job with complex lighting design, creating ocean waves, ‘70s disco magic, and a host of other special effects. Chris Byrne tackled the challenging task of costuming a large cast with occasional jumps between the 1970s and 1990s, including some quick-change surprises and some sparkly and truly memorable color combinations. And of course high praise for musical director/conductor Michelle Bahr and her unseen but not unappreciated orchestra as they drive the show from prologue to epilogue.

Mamma Mia! is playing at Theatre in the Grove, 2028 Pacific Avenue, Forest Grove through Sunday, May 1 with performances at 7:30 P.M.  on Fridays and Saturdays and 2:30 P.M. on Sundays.

Don’t Hug Me (But DO See Me!)

 

I don’t know how the rest of y’all are faring, but the last few years have offered me more tough moments than were strictly necessary. I am thus abnormally grateful for anything that makes me laugh, and Broadway Rose’s current production of playwright Phil Olson’s Don’t Hug Me (music by Paul Olson) has earned my eternal gratitude and then some. Yes, it’s absurd – a fact openly embraced by director Dan Murphy, who admits that he “thought it was one of the silliest shows I’d ever encountered.” Aside from the always-strong Broadway Rose production standards, the show’s salvation comes from that fine line between “silly” (it most certainly is) and “stupid” (it most certainly is not!). The dialogue and songs are delivered with 100% fidelity to a dense Minnesota/Scandinavian accent, and Olson has peppered the script with scores of increasingly bizarre regional epithets that keep the audience in stitches. 

A brief synopsis: it’s the coldest day of the year in Ely, Minnesota, with a fierce storm blowing outside Gunner and Clara Olson’s struggling little bar, The Bunyan. Sick of the cold, Gunner wants to sell the bar and move to Florida, but Clara is unwilling to give up her love of ice fishing and her past glory as Winter Carnival Bunyan Queen. Waitress Bernice Lundstrom wants to pursue a singing career, but her fiancé Kanute Gunderson forbids it. Enter intrepid salesman Aarvid Gisselsen, dragging a giant karaoke machine that he swears will save the bar and bring romance back into their icy world. Clara, Bernice, and the menfolk sing their way through the karaoke machine’s extensive menu of works by the immortal Sven Yorgensen, including such classics as “I’m A Walleye Woman in a Crappie Town,” “He Wore a Purple Tux,” and my personal favorite, “Little Ernie Eelput” (from Yorgensen’s Peter, Paul and Mary phase). In the end, Gisselsen’s promise comes true, and everybody (well, almost everybody) discovers or rediscovers the love that’s been missing from their lives. 

Each of the five actors brings it all every time they walk on the stage, and each brings something unique. Among the highlights? Watch Kevin-Michael Moore’s face - if competitive girning ever becomes a fad, my money will definitely be on his Gunner character, and he brings to mind the grizzled folksiness of a Gabby Hayes (without the six-shooter). Revel in the tough/tender combination that Elizabeth Young brings to the role of Clara, and the gradual evolution toward confidence in Clara-Liis Hillier’s sweet Bernice as she find her inner diva in a red dress. Poor Peter Liptak (Kanute) is the only unrepentant jerk in the show, but he still charms us with song and dance to balance his blustering Midwestern chauvinism.  The real sleeper is Matthew H. Curl, whose Aarvid is sort of a tentative but persistent Harold Hill – in fact, the show has been described as “Fargo meets The Music Man, without the blood or trombones.” Curl’s “My Smorgasbord of Love” is a real showstopper, and I salute his ability to deliver the song with a straight face.

Unique in my experience with Broadway Rose, Don’t Hug Me uses prerecorded music – more of a challenge for the vocalists, but definitely appropriate to a karaoke-themed musical. Bryan Boyd’s scenic design is delightfully evocative of the time and place, as are Annie Kaiser’s costumes.

Don’t Hug Me is pure schmaltz with a big dose of heart, and it provides a wonderful, if all too brief, refuge from the outside world. Broadway Rose is still checking for proof of vaccination or negative Covid test, so even if masking is now optional I felt quite comfortable joining the opening night audience. There are so many reasons to get your tickets and see this little gem – just do it! Tickets are going fast, especially for the coveted Mother’s Day/closing performance.

Don’t Hug Me is playing at Broadway Rose’s New Stage, 12850 SW Grant Avenue, Tigard through Sunday, May 8^th.

 

Twilight’s Enigmatic, Timely  Anatomy of Gray

The first time I saw playwright Jim Leonard’s Anatomy of Gray, in 2017, I was intrigued by the play’s multilayered approach but was ultimately able to peg it as a mysterious plague being used as an allegory about the AIDS epidemic. I enjoyed the play’s extensive use of humor to leaven the underlying pain, and harkened back to my emotional response to the early days of AIDS and its impact. However, seeing Twilight Theater Company’s 2022 production was a whole new experience for me. After some reflection I decided that the difference is rooted in my relationship to the two very different “plagues” that have colored my adult life. AIDS? Tragic, upsetting, but essentially separate from my everyday life. Covid-19, on the other hand, has been all too immediate for most of us, and we’ve been denied the dubious comfort of “otherness” about the victims. Even if you’ve seen Anatomy of Gray before, the current production merits a second look.

The show takes place in a slightly surreal world peopled by the nineteenth century townspeople of Gray, Indiana – a place emblematic of the close-minded but self-proclaimed salt of the earth communities that littered a country on the verge of, and fiercely resisting, a vast scientific awakening.  Fifteen year old June Muldoon, whose father suddenly died of a mysterious illness, is lamenting her totally boring life in this boring town; grieving about her father and hoping for a little action, she writes a letter to God asking him to send a doctor to town. A fierce storm arrives, and in blows balloonist Dr. Galen Gray, a beacon of enlightenment from the outside world (and a ray of hope for June).  The xenophobic Pastor Phineas Wingfield is suspicious of the newcomer – Gray is attractive, educated, and modern, but he’s Jewish. When locals begin to sicken and die from inexplicable deadly lesions, many follow the pastor’s lead and blame the newcomer. When lesions are discovered on June’s mom Rebekah, only three people are free of infection – June, Dr. Gray, and a love-struck, soda pop loving young yokel named Homer.  Take my word for it – courtesy of some very crisp writing and some great physical comedy, the show is both more moving and more fun than it sounds!

Director Alicia Turvin has assembled an evenly capable cast, with some real standout performances in lead roles.  As Homer, the simple farm boy who’s loony for June, Ryan Larson is perfectly pathetic, but he earns the audience’s sympathy with his earnest devotion. Arun Kumar is wonderful as the narrow-minded Pastor Wingfield, and he oozes the confidence that can only be found in the truly ignorant. His epic battle with kidney stones is the funniest scene in the play, and he maintains his steadfastly bombastic idiocy throughout.  

Three key actors provide the solid foundation required to tell the story. Noelle Guest is quietly compelling as the widowed Rebekah – she creates a solidly intelligent and grounded character who embraces the pain and love in her life with equal grace.  Cydoni Reyes is a real find as June, and Turvin was lucky to find an adult actor who manages to believably convey the angst, drama, and maddening mood swings of repressed adolescence. Reyes’ June is both precocious and innocent, and charming throughout. Finally, there’s Jon Gennari, who walks a fine line as Dr. Galen Gray, the quintessential outsider. While he is often funny, he never seems to be going for the laugh – he’s so somber, logical, and determined that the audience accepts the absurdity of the situation without question.

I loved the set – rather than trying to create even a semblance of small-town Indiana, Turvin’s design, a simple backdrop of silver/gray panels, allows the actors to easily break the fourth wall. The audience doesn’t need to worry about suspending disbelief, because as soon as Genevieve Larson’s beautifully designed lights go up we know that we are not expected to cling to an illusion of reality.

Twilight’s production of Anatomy of Gray is something of a sleeper. While it’s fun and moving in the moment, it doesn’t yield its full impact right away but grows its impact upon reflection – one of those shows that would be well worth seeing twice.

Anatomy of Gray is playing at Twilight’s Performing Arts Theater, 7515 N. Brandon Avenue, Portland through April 24^th, with performances at 8 pm on Thursday, Friday and Saturday and 3 pm on Sunday.

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.