By Michael Block 

To close out their long tenure at their space on White St., The Flea has offered a double showing of A.R. Gurney one acts that are thematically linked. Directed by Stafford Arima, Ajax and Squash explore the Greeks through the collegiate lens. Spanning both the main stage and the basement black box, Two Class Acts is shutting the doors with a bang.
Down in the black box, the evening begins with an intimate two-hander in Ajax. The play follows Adam, a college kid who hijacks a college classroom with his insistence on bringing his PTSD slash Israel and Palestine adaptation of Ajax to life. Meg, his professor, who happens to conveniently be a failed New York actress, decides to allow his passion project to become a reality until the iron fist of the university shuts it down due to concerns of the content. Without sounding like a complete dissertation on the Greeks, Gurney throws in a faulted romance to keep things interesting. Being an atmospheric play, Arima and scenic designer Jason Sherwood transformed the space into a classroom setting, from black box to green box lecture hall, bringing the audience into the world sitting behind tables. It was a wonderful attempt to bring life and exhilaration to the piece but the reality of the world was a bit farfetched. Were we really to believe that Adam could hijack that classroom with that much ease? And if teacher Meg allowed Adam to have that much control, how would the rest of the room really react? I’d imagine they’d just get up and walk out. Regardless of the silly rules of the world, Gurney has crafted an intense relationship play. These two individuals are driven to success yet get blinded from within the whirlwind. And when things got meta, it was slightly distracting but fun nevertheless.

photo by Joan Marcus

Where Arima succeeded was keeping his world tight and engaging. Reality aside, Arima brought variety into his staging, moving his two actors fluidly through the room. If you have any phobia of fluorescent lighting than this is not the show for you. Lighting designer Jake DeGroot played true to reality by illuminating the space with the overhead fixtures. To close in on the more intimate moments, DeGroot eliminated the furthest units to tighten in on the pair. DeGroot’s transitions were sharp, keeping the piece moving. Costume designer Sky Switser was handcuffed with very little “off stage” time for the duo to change. Switser put the pair in an outfit that was multifunctional. Between untucking shirts and removing pieces, Switser was still able to maintain the passage of time. But Meg’s outfit, though collegiate, made her look as if she tried way too hard. And that didn’t quite seem true to the character. Meg had a bit more ease to her, especially as a former New York actress. A special shoutout should be given to prop designer Zach Serafin for those syllabuses placed at each table. There was great detail incorporated.
With four actors, two male and two female, swapping around to play Meg and Adam, my performance saw Olivia Jampol and Chris Tabet take on the student and teacher. Olivia Jampol was simply delightful. There was a great comfort in her Meg. She had a soft spot to her with just a hint of her opportunistic nature. Adam is obnoxiously scrappy and loud with an aura of pretension. He’s not a likeable character. At least that’s how Chris Tabet played him. Whether it was character or actor, there was something off about Tabet’s Adam. If his goal was for you to wish Adam to fail miserably, then Tabet succeeded. Tabet’s Adam was sadly unlikeable. With the intimate setting, Tabet had some volume control woes, amplifying every word.
Up on the mainstage, Squash is an exploration of gender roles and sexuality. With the works of the Greeks as a framing device, Dan Proctor is a literature teacher at an unnamed yet obvious college in the greater Boston-Cambridge area, who begins a battle of self-discovery after one of his students challenges him using Plato and a bit of a come one. As Dan battles himself, he has a wife at home who tries to confront the roles of gender in the late 70s. Squash is short and sweet with a lot of bite. Gurney’s play may be a period piece but he’s able to convey universal issues of today. It’s an introspective piece that is carried by strong characters. Though there are shades of stereotypes within each individual, the connections Dan has with his wife Becky and student Gerald are in a sense artificial. But rightly so. Dan is a married man with kids. Yet is it a marriage of convenience? Gerald is a young man going through his own exploration of self. It’s something people of his age go through. Dan goes through a similar search of self but his stature and age is a bit more perilous. And that’s what makes Squash compelling.
Playing the confused professor, Dan Amboyer’s Dan is dangerously aloof with great intellect but extreme lack of social cues. Amboyer has instant draw to him. He’s a magnetic performer. When you’re willingly along for the journey, it proves that the performance is a success. Nicole Lowrance as Becky had a bit of a rough exterior to her longing housewife. She was a bit standoffish and cold. But that could be due to the uncertainty of her situation. As Gerald, Rodney Richardson had an ease about him. Sporting the orange hanky in his character’s costume, Richardson was down for anything. Richardson had a wonderful stronghold when Gerald gained the upper hand on Dan.

photo by Joan Marcus

Splitting the audience into two, Stafford Arima and Jason Sherwood had some obstacles when it came to bringing this multi-locational play to life. Sherwood’s set featured a quartet of raises platforms representing the locker room, the Proctor kitchen, Dan’s office, and the bar. The varying platforms depicted the various locales with great detail. Sherwood’s attention to the various floor treatments to the furniture in each was quite fitting. Arima had a strong sense of bearings in his staging. With the aid of Jake DeGroot’s lighting, Arima moved from world to world swiftly. The only woes Arima encountered were the alleyways that he brought into certain scenes. Depending on how far your neck could turn determined if you were able to see the action when they were brought off the platforms. Sky Switser succeeded again when it came to clothing the characters. They were evocative of the period without feeling forced. And for a play that happens to be about questioning sexuality, Switser put Dan and Gerald into pieces that showed off just enough skin.
A.R. Gurney’s Two Class Acts had some issues but as a pair, they complimented one another well. Ajax and Squash provide a great night at the theater and a wonderful way to say goodbye to the space on White St.

By Michael Block

The desolate city of Troy is in ruin and on the verge of destruction but the women of Troy are not giving up without a fight. In Ellen McLaughlin's adaptation of The Trojan Women, Euipides’ classic is updated through the modern lens of war and women's rights.
This version of The Trojan Women is a heavy-handed drama that transports the action to a world unfamiliar yet strikingly known where a war-torn city is filled with refugees tattered from a battle over the woman that launched a thousand ships, as they say. The play revolves around the women of Troy, led by Hecuba, as they lament their loses and suffering as they become resolved to their unfortunate fate. McLaughlin injects a heightened realism in her text that honors the source material while still allowing her own stamp to be placed.  But in a world where this story has seen an array of reinventions, what, if anything, did this new production offer? It's evident that if you dig deep enough, you can excavate parallels to recent events in the world and the hardships endured by the countless fallen innocent victims of war. There is evidence of a commentary of the rights of women and their bodies. What resulted in The Trojan Woman was a melodramatically one-note drama that fell a bit short. Director Anne Cecelia Haney’s direction was ambitiously uninspiring. Whether it was concept or the company’s overall lack of connection to the material, The Trojan Women never quite found its footing. The piece seemed to be in a constant state of chaos and confusion.

Photo by Allison Stock

With an individual frenzied energy, the Chorus seemed to lack cohesion. It wasn’t until a new character entered the scene that focus was found. But when it came to focus, there was one who encapsulated it. Rebeca Rad was effortlessly radiant as Helen. She dominated the stage even when she was being overpowered. DeAnna Supplee may not have sold Hecuba completely but when she hit her stride, she dazzled.
Scenically, Marte Johanne Ekhougen transformed the oft black walls of the space to an abandoned building in ruin. Even with a burst of color, the space evoked the despondency of the piece. Ekhougen also took on the role of costume designer. It was a strong choice to play with color and shape. It worked well to define status, both physical and emotional.
Recently, The Flea’s offerings can be hit or miss. Unfortunately, The Trojan Women is the latter. The Bats tend to be game for anything but this one seemed out of their wheelhouse. This is a production that may rock you to sleep or completely empower you. But like the image you see when you enter the theater, you’ll wish you had a blanket.

Name: Jackie Abbott

Hometown: Stamford, CT

Education: BFA in Drama from NYU Tisch School of the Arts, UCB Sketch & Improv

Select Credits: White People Christmas (Kikki, dir. Ernest Thompson/Cherry Lane Theater), Seeing Emma (Riley, film by Dina Graham), National Cuisinart Commercial, "Miss Sugar Tit" (CeeCee, film by Shannon Strong), The Serpent Woman (Farruscad, dir. Orlando Pabotoy), The American Clock (Rose Baum, dir. Kent Gash)

Why theater?: I mean it.

Who do you play in Holy Moly?: Tabatha

What is it like being a part of Holy Moly?: It is electrifying to originate this character, especially with the luxury of having the playwright in the room. I really love being involved in new works and having the opportunity to play.

What kind of theater speaks to you? What or who inspires you as an artist?: Anything about mental illness, and a lot of dark DAAAARK comedy. I’m inspired most by those who make me laugh. Aaaand Jessica Lange, Cate Blanchett, Brie Larson, Annie Leibovitz, Lang Leav, and Robin Williams

Any roles you’re dying to play?: I’m just biding my time until I can play Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. I wouldn’t be upset if a remake of “Frances” or “Grey Gardens” pops up in the meantime.

What’s your favorite showtune?: Any Sondheim. But I can do a mean lip sync to “Satisfied” from Hamilton.

If you could work with anyone you’ve yet to work with, who would it be?: You asked, so: Meryl Streep (who doesn’t?), Patricia Clarkson, Maxine Peake, Toni Collette, Julianne Moore, Kristen Wiig, Emma Thompson, Carrie Coon, Tracy Letts, Mark Rylance, Geneva Carr, Laura Linney, Tony Hale, Catherine O’Hara, Christopher Guest, Sarah Paulson, Tilda Swinton, Stanley Tucci, Tami Sagher

Who would play you in a movie about yourself and what would it be called?: Rooney Mara, “Carol”

If you could go back in time and see any play or musical you missed, what would it be?: This is going to get daaaaark BUT... my incredible clowning teacher, Orlando Pabotoy, told us once about a commedia piece in which Harlequin (the quintessential clown of commedia) committed suicide by tickling himself and laughed to death. Just the beauty of that image alone moves me deeply.

What show have you recommended to your friends?: Hand to God. It has closed, and I am in deep denial.

What’s your biggest guilty pleasure?: The Bachelorette and Vegan Divas chocolate donuts. I’m not vegan.

What’s up next?: Bachelor in Paradise. In the early stages of a sketch show for SPANK at UCB, creating a webseries with my roommate, collaborating on photography projects, auditioning (always), and I’d love to write a play.

For more on Jackie, www.jackiemabbott.com and www.jma-photography.com

Protesting is nothing new. But in a world of technology, the presence of social media can change the entire game. The fights for rights are given a face and a voice. With every share, someone learns of a battle. But not every battle can see the broad daylight. In Sarah Gancher's The Place We Built, a history that's slightly hidden from the mainstream takes center stage as a group of bohemians in Hungary fight to save their bar during a horrific transition in their country's democracy through a time of authoritarianism and anti-Semitism.
Holed up in a Budapest bar that serves as a refuge for all bohemian, gypsies, queers, and Jews, The Place We Built follows a maturing youth fighting to save their home, literally and figuratively. To put it bluntly, imagine a mash-up of some of the themes, situations, and morals of The Flea's 2015-2016 season and you get The Place We Built. The difference is, if you can get past the slight inconsistencies of dialect rules and documentary lighting rules, The Place We Built is near flawless. It's a politically charged docudrama that is raw, gritty, and purposely intense. Even with hints of character, Gancher's play is an integral plot driven piece. The characters are not nearly as important as the overall fight. It's a story about identity, heritage, and taking a stand. With an ending that is all too real, you have to be disappointed by the lack of victory, but that is the reality. Fights will fizzle as the ticking time shrinks and reality sets in. These characters wanted to do what they believed was right but being outnumbered trumps grandiose ideals. The message may feel unsatisfactory but not everyone can have a happy ending. With many decisions driven by love and exhilaration, The Place We Built watches a group of young Hungarians, lead by Aniko and Ben, who meet and take in like-minded bohemians to their Grandma parties and their ultimate creation, The Seagull, a bar and performance space. Gancher spatters the story nonlinearly with a documentary device. Sans the youngest squatters who’s presence barely gets explained, there’s a slow build up of character development but once each main character has their moment, The Place We Built takes flight. The running time may be long but if you’re engaged, it will fly by. With a backdrop based on truth and a plot that has inspiration from a real story, Gancher has to manage balance the two. With performance being a key part of the true story, infusing theatricality allowed The Place We Built movement. Between crude puppetry and cultural music, Gancher was able to evade feeling like a text book or Buzzfeed article. The necessary historical information was implemented properly, though The Place We Built could have used a dramaturgical insert to help set the scene and bring the audience into the performance prior to start.

photo by Hunter Canning

A great energy can lift a show. This ensemble was stellar at bringing the energy. The characters may not have been bound by blood but they were a family. This ensemble was the equivalent. There was an immense amount of trust and love. As a whole, this was a strong ensemble. But if you held a magnifying glass up to the individuals, there were some standouts, both for the good and the not as good. Firstly, recognition should be given to the musical talents including Brendan Dalton on guitar and drums, Ben Lorenz, who is a dead ringer of John Gallagher Jr. both physically and through performance, on violin, and Sonia Mena on accordion. The Place We Built could exist sans music but their presence made it that much better. Dalton was given a gift with the role of Mihaly. Not only was Mihaly a multi-layered character but he had one of the most fascinating story arcs. Dalton didn’t throw away his shot at crafting the strongest character within the bunch. His documentary solo introduction was one of the very last, so I suppose it’s true, Gancher saved the best for last. Utility player Brittany K. Allen continued to prove her worth as an incredible character actor. Though it’s not instantly clear due to story when a new character is introduced, Allen gave the play the comic relief it greatly desired. Gancher’s play isn’t necessarily strong in character so many of the featured players didn’t have much room to explore but there was something lost when it came to, possibly, the two most integral characters. Leta Renee-Alan as Aniko was a bit of a bore, though she finally brought the fireworks in her Act II eruption, and Tom Costello was not quite the hero Ben needed to be. You could easily blame Aniko and Ben for not being able to inspire the troops and it unfortunately reflected in Renee-Alan and Costello’s performances.
For those who may have seen Wolf in the River, the other production currently running at The Flea, you may recognize some elements from the set that is borrowed from that show. With a co-scenic design between Arnulfo Maldonado, the Wolf in the River scenic designer, and Feli Lamenca, you may have believed director Danya Taymor would be a slight disadvantage. The impressionistic design did work to create the grungy bar known as The Seagull. Taymor used all aspects of the space, smartly using the harsh corners sparingly. It’s likely you knew very little to nothing about the world of Gancher’s play yet Taymor did an impeccable job at bringing history to life in an compelling manner. You wanted to party with Taymor’s bohemians. Like the scenic design, The Place We Built borrowed lighting designer Masha Tsimring. For the most part, Tsimring’s design worked for this production with the grand exception of how the documentary light was used. Tsimring implemented a harsh diagonal white light that would then be interrupted by scene. Sometimes this light would be brought back if the speaker continued to narrate. Other times it was not. Consistency would have been nice, but it’s likely that the staging and shared space may be a cause. You can praise the musicians for their talent but you have to say thank you for the music to The Bengsons, the music consultants and arrangers. They offered the perfect mood and feel for this production.
No matter what happened in the end, you have to appreciate the fight the characters put up in The Place We Built. Their journey drove the play to success. Likewise, you have to appreciate the effort it took into building this play. Not all the pieces fit together, there were some occasional cracks. But no matter what, The Place We Built inspires.

If metaphors are your thing, Adam Rapp’s latest gritty drama is right up your alley. Presented by The Flea Theater, Wolf in the River follows a cannibalistic tribe of youngsters in a poverty-stricken sector of America where a girl with a glimmer of optimism dreams of getting out. Filled with lyrical grime and primal carnage, Wolf in the River is a twisted fairy tale like you’ve never seen before.
Engulfed in a world of pure trauma, Wolf in the River is an ambitious and bombastic study of humanity through the lens of a shape-shifting metaphor of a beast who shares the story of Tana, a 16-year-old girl who lives in an impoverished part of the country where tribe leader Monty reigns supreme, literally controlling the minds and blood that flows from her arranged clan. Also within the clan are Tana’s discharged army brother Dothan, who happens to be Monty’s beau, Aiken, the alpha girl of the group, and Pin, Tana’s dim savior. Told through a series of jarring and shuddering scenes and songs, Wolf in the River has shock value on point. Rapp’s text is distorted poetry. There is an attention to detail in his words. And if you truly listen, his story is unsettling. And that is the point. But if you’re looking for a clear character journey, Rapp seems to focus on Tana while leaving the others to drown in the river. That being said, what Rapp explored with Tana was nothing short of stunning. The character he, and actress Kate Thulin, was not only courageous but remarkable. While it was a bit of a juxtaposing moment of the piece, Rapp’s shining moment was the meet-cute between Tana and her dream boy Debo. Perhaps that was due to the fact that it lacked fear, though love is terrifying in its own right. Rapp’s offering including tantalizing monologues, a harrowing siren chorus, and what can only be described as a random Miley Cyrus music video, but when Rapp allowed the audience to tempt fate, something seemed to change. It felt like a cop out. The play begins with The Man describing the clothing remains of who we’ll later learn is Tana. But when Tana’s fate is about to be revealed in the narrative, the black and white rocks from “Survivor” make a cameo allowing one lucky audience member to choose which path Tana takes. Until this point, Rapp was describing a world in which the people have no path to choose and suddenly, we get an option. It was a bit strange to suddenly move in this direction.

photo by Hunter Canning

Wolf in the River requires a group of actors eager to rise to the occasion and tap into fear. And this was a ferocious company. As Tana, Kate Thulin gave a star-defining performance. Thulin’s transformation into the young girl was enchanted. Thulin was engrossed in an emotional journey. She eased into the world of fear through her characterization. Thulin’s susceptibility on stage was phenomenal. To play the Southern-fried storyteller, Jack Ellis bared all.  Like Thulin, Ellis’ characterization was impeccable. He offered a tenacious allure to The Man. At first glance, Xanthe Paige doesn’t appear as a natural ruler but her persistency and supremacy defied facade. While we don’t quite know the etymology of Monty’s obsession with Miley Cyrus, Paige’s show-stopping dance-n-twerk routine was unforgettable. And Paige certainly was able to rock the crocodile pimp cane. Maki Borden as Debo served as much needed comic lightheartedness. He played well off of Thulin’s Tana. While they didn’t get as much acclaim as the other characters, William Apps, Karen Eilbacher, and Mike Swift as Dothan, Aikin, and Pin respectively brought variety to Rapp’s piece. While they did play occasionally important parts in the narrative, the six set Lost Choir thrived at spooking the audience vocally and popping out when you’re least expecting it.
Adam Rapp succeeded in the sense that he was easily able to create a room full of fear within The Flea. From the start, there is an instant element of discomfort. There is tension as the ensemble meanders about on stage as you sit in the mismatched chairs that surround the toy graveyard that is the pile of dirt in the middle of the stage. With a theater in the round set up designed hauntingly by Arnulfo Maldonado, Rapp used the mound as he primary playing space. With tight rows of audience forming the circle, there was opportunity to have some action occur behind the audience. The problem with this conceit is that every seat has its own series of pros and cons. If you’re sitting right next to the refrigerator where the door opens, chances are you can’t see within. Was it essential to see inside? Who knows but if that person misses the action there, others across the room will miss other key moments like The Man in the recliner or Pin assembling the raft. Oh and be aware, the lights are tight but you will be seen by the rest of your neighbors. Your reactions will be clocked in by someone who can see you. Staging aside, Rapp was able to contrive a theatrical event where it left you eager to see what comes next because it was beyond your wildest dreams. With theatricality on her side, Masha Tsimring proved a striking display of lights. The tattered costumes from Michael Hili and Hallie Elizabeth Newton looked stunning but had a dystopian feel that placed them outside the world of the play.
Wolf in the River is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. It will catch your breath and keep you on edge. What’s unfortunate is that the environment in which Rapp placed his audience elevated the experience, potentially distracting from the content presented. There were troublesome components to the text but when you’re thrust in a space such as this, the elements will get the better of you and sway the experience into something extraordinary. It’s when you have more time to think about the play that you’ll really start to question Wolf in the River. For good and for bad.

War can change a person. It's proven fact. What you see and do on the battlefield can have a serious affect on the mind. Post-war PTSD and racial treatment are key players in Kristiana Rae Colon's Vietnam era psychological drama but i cd only whisper. Equipped with brazen movement pieces, exposition-filled monologues, and a series of intense sense, but i cd only whisper is heavy with a clunky script that gains steam a little too late.
Colon's play literally gets inside the brain of Beau Willie Brown as he struggles with life following a stint in Vietnam. With theatricality taking shape, but i cd only whisper explores modern themes through a period lens proving time has come but change has not. With a strong thesis within, but i cd only whisper tries to do a little too much. The script jerks the audience around stylistically, gaining intrigue and momentum only at the big climax. Structurally, Colon vastly spreads out her story, offering many pieces of the puzzle over the ninety minute drama. There is often a lot of character and story information to take in at once, and unless you are fully engulfed with the action occurring right in front if your face, it may be hard to engage. And this is due entirely to David Monteagudo's staging in the basement black box of The Flea. Attempting to use every nook and cranny of the unique space, there is a natural disconnect built in. This is one instance where space is a hindrance. but i cd only whisper relies on intimacy. With monologues and duets between subject and shrink being the prime use of storytelling, the stray scenes Colon adds happen to be the most interesting. Especially the scene between Crystal, Genevieve, and Marvin. It proves that the confessions may not be serving the play best and desire scenes to receive intel.

photo by Hunter Canning

With the text having its own series of woes, but i cd only whisper happens to be exquisitely performed. As the central character, Toussaint Jeanlouis is absorbing, easily drawing from an array of sensations. Jeanlouis taps into the inner demons of Beau Willie Brown to offer a brilliantly rich performance. Being the one asking all the questions can lead to a drab performance but Brandon Rubin brought great depth to Drummond. Rubin went beyond our way into the story, giving his characters varied layers of buoyancy and skepticism. Crystal Arnette had a fire in her eyes as Genevieve. Her character’s persona was large but her grandeur controlled the room. While it may simply be due to the fact that I served as the seat where he was directed to converse, when Akeem Baisden Folkes spoke, you listened to every single word. His words dripped with fervor.
Colon’s script jerks around stylistically and director David Monteagudo didn’t quite rein it in together. Like the play itself, Monteagudo’s vision was clunky. With heavy material all around, there was natural tension that filled the room. But what Monteagudo did well was find a way for the audience to get inside Beau Willie Brown’s brain. The piercing ring from sound designer D.R. Baker was exactly the sound necessary to evoke the sensation Beau was feeling. The Vietnam vibes pervades the production, especially through Ari Fulton’s costumes. The pieces Fulton chose to dress her company were iconic to the decade. From the high-waisted jeans on Crystal to the hair and blouse on Genevieve to the camo color scheme on Beau, Fulton captured the times.
Though the play lives in a specific period, Kristiana Rae Colon’s story still rings true. Her thesis within but i cd only whisper is bold but the execution of the script and production was not.

It's true. Change don't come easy. But it can. You just have to open your eyes. Taking the immersive experience to the next level, The Flea presents Take Care, an audience participatory event that blends topical themes into a mind-shattering night of truths.
Created by Todd Shalom and Niegel Smith and directed by Smith, Take Care is not your ordinary Flea production. Staged in the downstairs space, Take Care is highly experimental and highly rewarding. This is not a “choose your own adventure” experience, rather a piece where you can pick your level of participation. By simply deciding whether you'd like to be an active player or a voyeur, your experience will be dictated by your level of participation. Those wishing to participate will receive a card with instructions on when and how they will partake in the piece. And it's all based on a timer, a captivating yet subtle metaphor. Throughout the hour-long production, you will be led through a series of vignettes propelled by actor and audience alike. And by the end, you will inevitably have feelings. Sitting in a room virtually made up of strangers, you're in an extremely warm, safe, and welcoming place to emote. And there will be lots of emoting. Take Care is an experimental immersive event about climate change and race that is carefully crafted. This is a play for the fearless. This is not your typical theater piece. Those who seek refuge in the fourth wall should likely avoid Take Care. But for those eager to take a risk, and give those theatrical plants a night off, this is a play for you. It’s quite hard to discuss what precisely happens in this show. Yes, there is a set script that guides the evening, but depending on the makeup of the audience, your experience will likely change. There are key beats that are consistent, for example a threatening superstorm where you will want a poncho to avoid water, but it’s when the audience is literally given the microphone that the mood will swing. The “script” is filled with improvisational moments for the participants and what they may share could affect everything, even the timing of the night. But what’s amazing is how deep and honest people can get. You can feel the vulnerability within that stranger sitting across from you. Between sharing what you wish was in your emergency kit to the simple filling in the blank to the statement “I am…”, what the person says right before you could sway the continuing circle of revealing.

photo by Bjorn Bollinder

This will be one of those rare occurrences where the audience played a bigger "part" collectively than the actors. That being said, the Take Care company served as extraordinary guides and Caretakers. Tommy Bernardi, Maki Borden, Rachel Lin, Ashton Muniz, Derek Christopher Murphy, Rebeca Rad, Brittane Rowe, Isabella Sazak, Ryan Stinnett, and Catherine Woodard took on these unique and weird roles to form a unique ensemble. A special recognition should be paid to Brittane Rowe for her stunning rendition of Bridget Mendler's "Hurricane" with great accompaniment by Tommy Bernardi on piano and of course the Hurricangels. It was a welcome and inspirational musical break. There is something about The Bats and random musical numbers that reverberates.
Director Niegel Smith clearly had a vision as to how this event was going to be tailored. Just by peering at the “script”, you could imagine that it was like assembling a giant puzzle. Smith had a willing group of actors ready and able to pick up any moment of dead air but Smith’s trust in the one inconsistent factor, the audience, proved his confidence in his theatrical social experiment. As stated before, every performance will be a different experience and yet Smith and his team have a blueprint to keep things on the right track. Because of this unique experience, the design of Take Care is interesting. There is little uniformity that meets the eye at first glance yet everything seems to be cohesive. The actors seemed to be wearing clothing that were pulled out of their closet. There is an assortment of props isolated to several parts of the stage. But when the timer begins, there is a clear cut flow to the show. The lights and sound by Amith Chandrashaker and Miles Polaski are sharp and unified. The video design, also by Chandrashaker, is filled with images and videos that are evocative.
There are so many moving parts to Take Care that it is incredibly likely that you will miss a lot. And that may be a bad thing. But what you do take in, it’s something unique. When all is said and done, it's ok to be overwhelmed. Chances are you're not alone. And a warning to all those brave enough to fight this storm, take that poncho. Especially if you’re wearing something you like. There’s water everywhere and you’re going to get wet.

Geek theater has been on the rise. Theater that blends story with themes of the geeky nature in a theatrical world. The latest in the New York trend is Jennifer Haley’s Neighborhood 3: Requisition of Doom at The Flea. Neighborhood 3 turns a video game into life as the lines of reality are blurred.
Jennifer Haley’s Neighborhood 3: Requisition of Doom follows a neighborhood of teens who play a new video game called “Neighborhood 3” that transforms their own neighborhood into the world in which they play on screen. The goal of the game is to get to the next level by defeating zombies. But as the teens become obsessed, their parents grow worried as they lose control of their child’s minds. Neighborhood 3: Requisition of Doom is a metaphor-laden, tonally confused piece that is provocative yet executed oddly. Directed by film veteran Joel Schumacher, Neighborhood 3 is part dark comedy and part dark thriller. And depending on the circumstance, the scenes bounced between the two. It’s difficult to say which was the intended style as either could be a viable option but with both presented, Neighborhood 3 doesn’t quite know what story it wanted to tell. And that’s partially to blame with the over-abundance of characters. Haley stuffs her script with fifteen seen characters that are slightly connected. The connective tissue that brings the story together is a teen named Cody, a never seen game host, whose home happens to be a coveted level. With so many characters to track and no arcs for the individuals, Haley’s mission is more about the idea and not about the storytelling. The snippets of character in the two person scenes are a bit of a disservice to the overall piece. What Haley does offer is interesting. The idea of video games imitating life is smart. The idea of gamers becoming obsessed with their hobby and confusing game with reality is fascinating. The idea of winning and succeeding in order to get to the next level is clever. It’s unfortunate that Neighborhood 3 plays closer to an op-ed than an actual play. You could hear Haley’s thesis but it was transparent and didn’t aid in furthering her characters.

photo by Hunter Canning

The twisted comedy is filled with a company of actors who are lost in the confusing levels. Comprised of The Bats, the ensemble did all they could with the game at hand. Virtually divided in half, the young company played either teenager or parent, and strangely, it was the youngsters playing moms and dads that stood out. Sydney Blaxill and Kerry Ipema as Barbara and Joy played mothers of the zombie-playing zombie-like teens and offered a range of strength. Their characters were some of the more dynamic and happen to be the most plot-driven. When it came to the kids, Connor Johnston stood out. Johnston’s Blake was one of only two we watched physically play the game and it offered some of the most interesting moments on stage. As it so happens, Blaxill and Ipema both shared the stage with Johnston. Neighborhood 3 would very likely be a different play had these scenes appeared closer to the start of the play.
Joel Schumacher’s direction was unfulfilling to say the least. Jumping from campy to dramatic, his tonal shifts seemed to contradict the text. Regardless, the repetitive staging was uninspiring. But that may be due to the minimal set by Simon Harding. The stage was a ramp with a blend of realistic and cartoonish grass, trees, and street. The intent was clear, blending the real world with the video game world, but Schumacher did not utilize the sections to his advantage. The lighting by Brian Aldous was horror movie-esque. Aldous played with shadows and darkness but with the reflective nature of part of the set detracted from the effect. Luckily the soundscape from Janie Bullard added a nice ambiance during the scenes.
It’s ambitious to produce a play like this in the landscape of technology-inspired theater but Neighborhood 3: Requisition of Doom is problematic. Jennifer Haley offers some interesting points but in the end, without a clear and captivating story, Neighborhood 3 was doomed.

Campus rape is an unfortunate hot topic plaguing society. In Frank Winter's courageous drama Student Body, a group of students are brought together to collectively decide how to handle the recent video that has surfaced documenting a horrid drunken incidence at a party.
Winter's biting play follows a group of friends that battle morality after discovering a video from a party was filmed of a young man raping an unconscious girl. Through ferocious debates and unsettling truths coming to light, Student Body traps the characters, and audience, in a struggle of right and wrong. Student Body is a mix of Twelve Angry Men and "How to Get Away With Murder". Winter's script offers a captivating look into a world many are afraid to discuss. It may not expose anything new but it certainly has a strong approach. Winters expertly provides both sides of the debate to be heard equally. Where he sits on the subject is hidden, allowing the story to develop naturally. The only real struggle Winters runs into is the amount of voices to track. There are certainly key players in this story but some background players either needed to be beefed up or eliminated. With their arcs not significant to the overall picture, they seem to just be necessary for the random interjection. With many of the characters having little or menial stakes in bringing the video to authorities, finding a way to heighten the stakes will significantly build the dramatic tension. Even altering the ending with perhaps Daisy leaving with the unaffected memory card could be a suitable and more rewarding ending as opposed to a neatly tied bow. Of those with worth, the backstory and friendship between Daisy and April could be sharpened even further. Daisy is the outsider of the group but her presence and need to be the voice of reason for April would be interesting to explore.

photo by Hunter Canning

For fans of the Shonda Rhimes drama "How To Get Away With Murder", you couldn't help but make comparisons with Winters’ own character to the Keating 6 and friends. Green haired outsider  Daisy fit the Rebecca mold. Played by Mariette Strauss, Daisy was the voice of reason for the majority of the drama. When her will was tested, Strauss' vulnerability came through in striking fashion. Within the group, Alesandra Nahodil s Liz took the role of prime opposition. Pitted against Daisy, Nahodil was a strong fighter, even battling her familiar connections that could be destroyed if the video came out. Despite a small arc until later in the play, Daniela Rivera as Lucy was exceptional. Rivera’s Lucy was strong and determined, owning responsibility. With certain characters' involvement being a bit predictable, Student Body was a fantastic character study. Winters makes it easy for you to predict what’s to come allowing you to key into reactions and body language of certain characters. For the majority of the play, you knew somehow Rob was a key player in the night’s events so watching Tommy Bernardi when he was participating or actively listening was mesmerizing. Bernardi not only created a well-rounded and affable character, but he mastered the art of body language. Bernardi tapped into the character so well that his reactions to accusations and revelations were more telling than the dialogue he was given. Bernardi’s performance is extraordinary. He's one to keep an eye on in this play and beyond.
Michelle Tattenbaum’s direction was simple yet effective. The set created by Jerad Schomer was a work in progress set of wood and construction tools for a school play. But in the middle of the stage was a scenic piece that allowed a divide. As on point as it may be, Tattenbaum’s game of take a side was striking. She staged the play in a way that once you discovered the rules of the debate, playing with the extremes of the space and the ability to be or not be seen, it allowed the story to come alive in a new way. What could merely be an acting exercise provided something noteworthy. Winters script takes note of the tools and dangers on stage and Tattenbaum uses them as something you would assume is foreshadowing. Perhaps layering in moments that these items are approached again could aid to the heightening of the play’s stakes. A little more fear and danger could go a long way.
Student Body is something so fascinating that it may intrigue you to attend a second time just to key into individual performances with the knowledge of what will happen. The discussion of campus rape cases is sadly a topic that will not see an ending anytime soon so this psychological drama could not have arrived at a more perfect time.

Striving to live a fulfilling life is unique to each individual. How you reach that point of fulfillment may be by your own doing or guided and maybe by a little bit of luck or karma. But what exactly is this karma? In Thomas Bradshaw's richly captivating and fearless Fulfillment, a man battles personal morality in a high stress environment on a journey to self-completion.
Michael is on the verge of forty working as an associate at a high tier law firm. He has a cute girlfriend, a new apartment, but it's not enough. After being provoked to question why, after nine years, he hasn't been named a partner, Michael learns some truths that leads to his life spiraling out of control. Was it his own doing or the surroundings that caused his downfall? Fulfillment is a powerful new dark comedy that keeps you engaged from start to finish. Bradshaw is unafraid in his writing, provoking you whether you're prepared or not. With provocative language and themes, Bradshaw boldly goes for the jugular. Bradshaw structures his piece quite well. The action is quick and precise. He rarely offers any fluff. For the most part, the key elements to the story are presented cleanly. The only blindside was the alcoholism reveal. Until his boss states Michael's alcohol problem is part of the promotion issues, we had only seen him drink sake. Incorporating another moment or two would allow the reveal to happen naturally. The characters Bradshaw has molded are quite strong and multidimensional. They each battle their own morality that, when contrasting, cause great conflict. Bradshaw layers his script with themes of karma, ethics, sex, addiction, and well, fulfillment but one of the most dynamic is his approach on class. The characters in Fulfillment live in a high-class world. Their cutthroat nature stems not from determination but from entitlement. The majority of the characters disregard consequences believing their actions are their privilege. They say things that many couldn't get away with. From rumors to lies, their words had little barring to consequences.

photo by Hunter Canning

While Michael may have been the centerpiece of the story, this surely was an ensemble effort. As Michael, Gbenga Akinnagbe gave a sensational performance. Akinnagbe had a contained 21st century Patrick Bateman vibe to him. While he may have lost himself in his downward spiral, it was believable. With a fight in his eyes, you wanted him to be victorious knowing the surrounding situations. As the nerdy but fiery girlfriend Sarah, Susannah Flood served a bit of good and evil. Blending a good girl exterior with a secretive bad girl, persuasive persona allowed for a dynamic performance from Flood. Jeff Biehl stole the show as the neighbor from hell. He had a natural comedic aura to his performance but when you picked up on the uniquely clever love folly work by Biehl highlighted on a perch, you couldn't help but watch him in action.
What sets this production apart is the brilliant vision of director Ethan McSweeny and his wildly creative design team. Cohesive is an understatement. McSweeny exceeded the limits of speed in his sharply choreographed and well managed world. The ensemble worked as one keeping the transitions tight and resourceful. The soundscape by Mikhail Fiksel and Miles Polaski was fascinating. With a jazz infused drum constantly playing a key role in the underscoring, it rarely felt like a distraction. McSweeny was greatly aided by the astonishing lighting and scenic design by Brian Sidney Bembridge. Using a layout that replicated the downstairs space of The Flea, Bembridge, used the long layout to his advantage, capturing sharp angles and crisp lighting. Bembrdige smartly incorporated the props onto the set, allowing them to be swiftly appear in the scenes, yet cleanly stow away on the shelves. To hammer in the importance of social class, the set was very chic marrying grey, white, and wood, in every element of the set. When color was incorporated, it was integral to the story. Like the orange carpet and the red silk sheets. And speaking of the sheets, the only large question that Fulfillment begs is the importance and necessity of sex and nudity on stage. Often audiences are required to use their imaginations. McSweeny and Bradshaw eliminate imagination, presenting it all. You have to give incredible credit to sex choreographer Yehuda Duenyas for making it real. But it begs the question, can the story still exist without the vivid images? Or is shock value more important? Did we need to see full frontal Michael stand on the bed for a strong moment before answering the pounding door?
Being fearless and taking risks in theater nowadays sadly seems rare. But Thomas Bradshaw and Ethan McSweeny were unafraid. And thankfully, it paid off for them. Fulfillment is a fulfilling production that that highlights the power of a strong vision.

When you think of Samuel Beckett, you instantly think of Waiting for Godot. But the avant-garde writer’s repertoire is much deeper. Like Godot, Happy Days is another rich language play about “nothing.” In The Flea presentation of The Theatre @ Boston Court’s production of Happy Days, Winnie is buried deep in the ground and her husband Willie is lost behind her. The Beckett two-hander follows the daily routine of two people in a play that is certainly an acting masterclass.
Happy Days by Samuel Beckett is certainly absurd. It’s long and runs on about nothing. Yet there are some exquisite intricacies in nothing. The play begins with Winnie buried waist-deep in the ground as she goes about her day, pulling items from her bag, calling out for her husband, and longing for a happy day. We don’t know the circumstances as to why she’s in this predicament but Beckett makes us not care. As time creeps by, we see glimpses of her husband Willie as she reminiscences about the past. With a play so rich in implication, Happy Days is a play about the monotony of the mundane during a time of decay. This piece is certainly not for everyone. With two acts and much repetition, it’s quite possible to zone out before you enter Act II and Winnie is buried up to her neck. But if you made it through the whole piece, you can’t help but appreciate the stellar performance by Brooke Adams and the transformative Tony Shalhoub. Adams and Shalhoub, who was a wonderful support, are veterans and certainly knew how to captivate a willing audience. Adams take on the behemoth part was simply breathtaking. Adams and director Andrei Belgrader clearly took the time to map out the beats to give each moment life. Adams brought sentimentality to Winnie that made you feel for her and her situation. She made stillness vibrant. Truly a mark of a brilliant performer. While Shalhoub may be the household name draw to the piece, he brought something fantastic to the stage. The way he threw himself around and communicated through sound cannot be compared. It’s quick to say that Shalhoub had the “easy job” in this one but he was able to find ways to worth in the small part.

photo courtesy of Joan Marcus

Director Andrei Belgrader had the task of focusing on language and timing. Belgrader eased into this world, breathing life onto the stage. Happy Days doesn’t have to be completely about sorrow and Belgrader gave Winnie a truly happy day. The set by Takeshi Kata looked like a set. The mound was a theatrical mound. The backdrop was a theatrical painting. It fit the absurdist world but didn’t seem to match the vitality of Adams and Shalhoub. Yes, putting a real mound of dirt on stage isn’t quite an option but there was something off and disappointing. Robert Oriol’s sound design was like the third character of the piece. When the alarm sounded, it meant alertness for both Winnie and any potential audience member. The tone that Oriol used was absurd and fitting. Prop designer Madison Rhoades had the unique task of making the items timeless yet significant to Winnie. With a play where there is little to no action, the audience is bound to focus on the little things. And the little things of this piece are the props. Rhoades did a phenomenal job selecting and purposing the right pieces. When Winnie is examining her items, so are we.
Happy Days is a play for the absurdist fan. If that’s not your cup of tea, Happy Days is a great nap. But if you’re looking for a performance that will blow you away, look no further than Brooke Adams. She is the heart and soul of this production.

Every artists dream is to be successful. For some, infamy is attached but the goal is to be recognized. Finding success could simply happen by blindly sharing work and then having that work go viral. Such is the case in Sam Marks' The Old Masters presented by The Flea.
The Old Masters follows Ben, an art lecturer and self-proclaimed struggling artist, as he watches the work of a missing friend rise to infamy, an idea he set in motion. Following The Feast in The Flea's programming is an interesting choice as the central character is also an artist. Regardless, Marks' play is a piece that is bound to hit home for the struggling artists of New York. While the play is Ben's journey of self-discovery, Marks throws two women that throw a wrench into his dreams, Olive, the pregnant wife who is active in her goals, and Lara, the newfound money-rolling girlfriend of the missing artist and unintentional temptress. As Ben watches others fulfill their hopes and aspirations, Ben's jealously peaks when he comes up with the idea to take credit for his own. Ben and Olive are at odds from the start. Ben and Lara have odd tension from the start. Both women, though Lara more so, serve more as a device to Ben than a character. It's quite interesting that Marks writes a trio of unlikeable characters. By the time you want to root for Lara, it's too late. The big plot twist Marks employs is quite rationale but bigger hints prior to the reveal may have been beneficial than the out-of-left field reveal.

photo courtesy of Hunter Canning

Ben was clearly the strongest written character of the script and it was proven through Rory Kulz's performance. Kulz’s journey as Ben filled the spectrum of emotions, from elation to pain. Kulz has a natural ease about him that his explosion later in the play was mesmerizing and raw. The character of Olive is like the boy who cried wolf. Everything is an issue and the end of the world, but when a real issue arises, it's hard to sympathize. This caused an unfortunate monotony in Alesandra Nahodil’s portrayal of Olive. Nahodil tried to find ways to make the pregnant character likeable but Olive’s vulnerable side appeared late. Adelind Horan as Lara played the outsider card well. Her naivety and sincerity allowed for some of the softer notes of the play. While a distinct location was never formally specified, though a Chicago Bears sweatshirt did make a cameo, Horan added a tinge of dialect to Lara, something that Kulz and Nahodil did not. Oddly, it seemed out of place due to the lack of uniformity.
Brandon Stock did a wonderful job using the basement of the space of The Flea. He avoided neck ping-pong as much as possible, keeping his actors glued to a certain area of the stage per scene. Stock kept the action moving and the momentum consistent, allowing the moments of intimacy to breathe. The set by Andrew Diaz begins with a house in renovations. It’s simple yet effective. Though Olive may only be an architect, her couch choice was a little bizarre. Diaz’s decision to divide the open space into two with the kitchen counter was a smart move, allowing lighting designer Jonathan Cottle to focus in on the action.
While the moral of the story may be to find that balance in life or to show the ugly side to jealousy or don't do a favor for your friends, The Old Masters is a reminder that this art world is tough. Marks’ script is not perfect but it’s a captivating evening of theater.

by Michael Block

We all have fears. Whether we acknowledge them or not, they exist deep within us. Facing our fears, that’s the challenge. In Cory Finley’s hauntingly electrifying The Feast, an artist’s psyche is put to the test as he’s haunted by the unknown creatures that may live in the pipes in his toilet.
Matt, a young artist in New York, finds his life crumbling in front of his eyes as his girlfriend is cheating on him, his career isn’t quite budding, and there are strange noises coming from within his toilet. The Feast is a darkly absurd thriller about fear and the unknown. From scene to scene, Finley gives us clues and hints as to what exactly Matt is or isn’t hearing. On paper, you may laugh at the conceit but Finley knows how to keep the audience engaged and spooked. Sure, there are moments of hilarity, but his play of reality is what keeps the piece moving. Finley layers his script with subtle jabs at art and the fears artists have. The characters that exist in The Feast are quite thin. They fit certain roles and hit certain plot points that are necessary for a thriller. But what The Feast lacks in character substance it greatly makes up for in excitement. What director Courtney Ulrich and Finley do well is keep the fear factor at an extreme. With clever staging techniques at the ready, Ulrich is able to spook and scare with the greatest of ease.

photo courtesy of Bjorn Bolinder

Playing Matt, the man with a sense of the unreal is Ivan Dolido. Dolido had an extraordinary task of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dolido kept up the intrigue as you followed along his bizarre journey. As an assortment of characters that infiltrate Matt’s mind, Donaldo Prescod kept it varied and interesting. From a plumber to psychologist, to the other man, Prescod balanced the real and unreal quite well. As girlfriend Anna, Marlowe Holden was charming. Holden’s Anna was strong and had nice chemistry with Dolido.
To create the world, scenic designer Andrew Diaz used every inch of the long space to create an apartment. And Ulrich used it to her advantage. The ambiance crafted by lighting designer Scot Gianelli was eerie, especially as the world become more absurd. When the meaning of the feast is finally revealed, things get weird in all the right ways. Hints at the arrival of the sewer creatures mean the fun is about to begin. Like every thriller, a storm means a blackout and a blackout means impending doom. With the lights out, Ulrich uses some tricks for a wonderful swap-out and a scream-fest final moment. If the goal was to scare the audience in the end, Ulrich and Finley went above and beyond. Playing upon the fears of those sitting in the audience added an incredible aspect to an already exciting night at the theater. I couldn’t help but smile knowing something was coming from the darkness.
The Feast is a thriller that lets the absurd excel. For those thrill-seekers out there, this one’s for you. Whether you like it or not, the end will stay with you, perhaps even haunt you for nights to come.

When a life is cut short, their legacy lives on. In the case of Isabelle Eberhardt, her writings left a trail of stories and tales about a daring women seeking adventure and freedom. In Elizabeth Swados and Erin Courtney's desert infused musical The Nomad, Eberhardt's story is set to music as she navigates a courageous life through the Sahara.
Isabelle Eberhardt was a Swiss explore and writer who spent the majority of her life traveling. On her journey, she found faith, converted to Islam, and found freedom dressed as man named Si Mahmoud Essadi, among many other thigns. Though she died at age 27, Eberhardt had a vibrant past. For a fascinating woman, Swados and Courtney’s telling of her life was mediocre. Journey plays can be difficult, especially when spanning a long period of time. Ensuring clarity in story is essential as the landscape is ever-changing. Without the short program note about Eberhardt, much of her story is lost in storytelling. There is very little dialogue in The Nomad, relying heavily through lyrics. Sadly, some of the lyrics were unintentionally laughable. With an opening lyric, and song being “I Am Dead”, you can’t help but wonder if it’s a joke or not. With many moments falling into this category, the lack of clarity and intent diminishes the power this piece should have. Before Eberhardt goes on her adventure, we learn a bit about her backstory. Courtney and Swados employ a second actress to play “young” Isabelle despite only being ten years minor. While this allowed for some theatricality and intrigue in staging, it was a device that lacked impact.

photo courtesy of Isaiah Tanenbaum

With so few book scenes, a clear character arc is lacking. Yet Teri Madonna brought immense conviction to the role. Madonna as Isabelle is an atypical leading lady and yet she was wondrous in the role. What Madonna’s voice lacked in power, she surely made up for in confidence. Madonna was incredibly believable in the role. To play her younger self, Sydney Blaxill didn’t have the authenticity Madonna did. Sure Young Isabelle was filled with more innocence, Blaxill’s desire for adventure didn’t come across as genuine. As Isabelle’s husband Slimene, Neil Redfield did a nice job showing his love for Isabelle. His voice was a nice blend with Madonna’s. On the whole, the ensemble moved beautifully and offered an incredible sound. With such a boom though, another female voice in the ensemble may have been helpful. But within the ensemble there were some featured players including Matthew Bovee and Michael Lapinksy who made their small parts stand out.
Elizabeth Swados directed The Nomad with purpose. She had a vision and a sense of theatricality that brought Isabelle’s world together. Isabelle’s worldly influences had an immense inspiration on the entire design. The fabric filled room by Lydia Fine worked wonders for the staging as it was a source for hiding, color, and shadow, aiding lighting designer Daisy Long immensely. Fine’s other strong contribution was her puppet design of the horse. The creation of the horse was spectacular. The motion in which the ensemble moved as one was stunning. And then suddenly, the parts exploded for choreography and the beauty was gone and all that was left was a head left to represent the horse. Lapinsky did a great job as the horse head and established himself as Isabelle’s companion, able to work solely. It’s unfortunate that such an engaging and stunning idea wasn’t continued throughout.
Telling the story of Isabelle Eberhardt is a fascinating conceit for a musical. But The Nomad wandered to the beat of its own drum, losing steam along the way.

There’s always something to talk about. Whether it be the latest food allergy or the latest electronic device or whatever seems to be trending, forming a dialogue may lead two complete strangers together for a single moment. In Kate Robin’s babble-fest I See You, two strangers are brought together by chance as they search for the missing part of their incomplete life.
In I See You, two individuals, Nina and Jesse, are individually married with children, and after a chance meeting, end up finding a bound within one another. After two separate incidences bring them closer, they soon discover that there temporary bond is just that. Robin’s two hander did the inevitable. She made two strangers into eventual romantic interests. Though the outcome may not have been inevitable, it was possible you may have already zoned out on the unappealing duo. Robin’s script felt like a soapbox ventfest of hot button topics more than its intended intellectual piece about human interaction. This unfortunately caused a disconnect between Danielle Slavick and Stephen Barker Turner as they seemed to be talking at each other.

photo courtesy of Hunter Canning

Danielle Slavick and Stephen Barker Turner as Nina and Jesse took Robin’s characters and put a unique spin on them. Slavick and Turner had two approaches to their characters. Slavick's fast talking Nina felt quite sitcomy, almost as if she entered a Hollywood romcom while Turner's Jesse took a more dramatic approach. While both were equally interesting choices, they just were not cohesive. Though the point of the piece may have been that these two individuals were not on the same page, theatrically, something was severely lacking.
Director Jim Simpson took the colloquial script and brought a surrealistic and theatrical approach to the world. While it was much more engaging than it would have been with a realistic set, the space was too vast for an intimate conversation. The negative space that was created forced an imbalance losing all intimacy. The set designed by Kyle Chepulis felt unfinished. By keeping the theater's walls in the playing space, it created a feeling as if something was missing. The turntable idea was clever but the transitions Simpson staged were unbearably long winded. Costume designer Claudia Brown took made some interesting choices when clothing the two characters. While Jesse’s costumes were simple and believable, Nina’s wardrobe had everything. Nina's costumes ranged from an initial homely look to boho hipster. As crazy as it sounds, the lack of cohesion of the character’s wardrobe was almost fitting to the overall lack of cohesion within the production. The one shining aspect of I See You was the lighting design by Brian Aldous. Aldous used the blankness of the world and gave it a beautiful color pop, especially along the back curtain. Imagine what the space would have looked like had the walls been white. Regardless of the odd location, the laser room scene was one of the most stunning visual moments of the night.
With so much dialogue and very little action, I See You was a bit of a miss. When you have a play with two characters, neither of which you want to root for, a ninety minute two hander can feel like an epic three-hour saga.

The freaks really do come out at night. Sex can be a sacred thing, but when the environment calls for letting go, honesty come out and true nature is revealed. In Kim Davies new drama Smoke, two occupants of a sex party have an impromptu encounter that leads to an evening of roleplay and testing physical limitations.

photo courtesy of Hunter Canning

Smoke is a sexy and provocative play about temptation and seduction. Davies’ script brings together Julie and John at a sex party where anything goes, sexually that is. John, an intern for an artist who happens to be Julie’s father, and Julie, a student, engage in battle of dominance as they explore their sexual desires. What makes Smoke special is Davies exquisite ability to bring such a sexy subject to the stage in an engaging manner. Along with director Tom Costello, Smoke treads the line of naughty and erotic tastefully. The pacing that Costello plays with allows the piece to be a psychological thriller of foreplay. For some, the play touches upon a foreign world and by keeping the action constant and the relationship between the pair mysterious, Smoke is never dull. When the pair finally consent to bring their bond to the next step, the level of danger rises immediately. Like the infamous Chekhov’s gun rule, there should be a new rule called Davies’ knife. The moment when Julie discovers John’s pack of knives, you knew they would be used in some capacity, but Davies uses it in one of the most shocking way possible. The only hangup of the play is the too convenient ploy that in a span of an hour plus, no one entered the kitchen. But as John said, the food’s in the living room.
The chemistry on stage was astounding. Madeleine Bundy and Stephen Stout as Julie and John brought thrill to the extreme. Bundy’s innocent submissive balanced Stout’s seductive dominant. The power shifts throughout the piece kept Bundy and Stout active and in tune with one another. While Bundy’s Julie seemed to play up her roles, you never knew when she was acting and when she was honest. This contrasted nicely with the Stout’s earnestness throughout.
Costello led the entire team through this dark and secretive world. Set designer Andrew Diaz did a tremendous job transforming the blackbox into an apartment kitchen, utilizing only a corner of the space, allowing the play to be even more intimate. Costume designer Beth Goldenberg allowed the actors to look sexy and appealing without looking like costumes. The soundscape Lee Kinney offered throughout the piece allowed for the fear of being caught at any moment. Lighting designer Daisy Long created a nice ambiance and offered a nice affect with the light through the window, however it allowed it to be a tad confusing what the light source exactly was.
Smoke is a stimulating voyeuristic look at sex. Feeling dirty is almost guaranteed after seeing this production but it will allow you to think about how far is too far.