‘Starf*ckers’ Showcases Writer/Actor John Kuntz in A Tailor-Made Solo Performance

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John Kuntz in Starf*ckers. Photo: Gillian Gordon Photography.

‘Starf*ckers’ — Written and performed by John Kuntz. Directed by Alex Lonati. Lighting Design by Sawyer Grabow; Sound Design by Alex Lonati and Anna Drummond. The run has ended.

By Shelley A. Sackett

When local playwright, actor, director and solo performer John Kuntz débuted Starf*ckers in 2000 at Speakeasy Stage Company, it garnered the Norton Award for Outstanding Solo Performance. Over a quarter of a century later, the 90-minute piece about a handful of characters’ obsession with celebrity and fame has, if anything, mushroomed in relevance, affecting all of us, from adults to young children. With the invention and accessibility of “new and improved” technology and social media platforms, today’s fixation on likes, follows and filters has created its own menu of psychosocial disorders and challenges, including but not limited to anxiety, depression, cyberbullying, and the exaggeration of unrealistic beauty standards.

All of which is not meant to plunge us into despair, but rather to point out how timely and indeed prescient Kuntz’s piece remains.

The intermission-less evening begins with Kuntz chatting with the audience in real, 2026 time. He references reviews when the play first opened (“Joyce’s Choices” raved; The Evening Transcript “not so much”) and contemporary examples of what the show we’re about to see is about (“Sydney Sweeney — look her up”).

Then the lights dim (Lighting Design by Sawyer Grabow) and Kuntz scampers over to a clothing rack which contains all he will need to transform into six characters who have one thing in common: they would all sell their soul (and probably their mother’s and children’s) for fame of the David Bowie variety.

The first character (who bookends the play’s seven vignettes) is a no-talent actress auditioning for a part in Xanadu: The Musical that she will never get. She is presumptive, rude, crude and clueless. She offers to sleep with anyone and everyone before going postal at a “No, thank you” response. Kuntz couldn’t be more convincing as this excruciatingly awful leech.

Sprite-like, Kuntz dashes to the clothing rack, changing from one character to the next with the simplest costume adjustment, his chameleon features fully exploited to theatrical advantage by Grabow’s literally spot-on lighting. He introduces us in turn to five others who were bitten hard by the showbiz bug.

There is a man who spent a brief time as Julia Roberts’ best friend, to a disastrous end. There is Ginger Grant, a Nora Desmond-esque fading actress who recounts her life’s story to a man she is on a first date with. Turns out “Gilligan’s Island” was not as much fiction as fact, and the Professor and Mary Ann were sources of a secret sauce. Kuntz shines in this role, both as performer and storyteller, though the story could be edited a tad to excise repetition and retain audience interest.

In “Pig-man,” the man whose advertising career and life go south after he invests in irreversible self-mutilating surgery, Kuntz is unable to rein in his sheer joy at playing such a revolting, pig-hearted, and scandalously funny clout chaser.

A creepy “Adonis” who looks and sounds AI-created and advertises useless products while repeating, “I say what you want to hear” is next. This one, with its bloodless monologue about conquering and consuming the world and Brown Shirt aura, is a little too close for contemporary comfort.

The evening’s most (and, perhaps, only) endearing character is a retired “Smurfs on Ice” road manager and cat collector being interviewed by Cat Fancy Magazine. Channeling Robin Williams as Mrs. Doubtfire, Kuntz creates a full-fleshed, appealing grandmother type whose backstory reveals humility, compassion and integrity. Fame was never her holy grail, and what she’s doing hanging out with the rest of this motley crew only Kuntz knows, but she is a welcome palate cleanser.

Finally, we are full circle back to that Sydney Sweeney wannabe. While some sketches are more silly than funny and the script could use paring down in spots, Kuntz brings a vibrancy of spirit and talent that is refreshing and unique, and an evening spent with him and his posse of Starf*ckers is an evening well spent indeed.

BTG’s Pitch Perfect ‘Lovesong’ Traces the Evolution of a Marriage

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By Shelley A. Sackett

We have all handled times when, faced with a fork in life’s path, we have had to decide which one to take. Moments, years or decades later, it’s hard to resist wondering how our lives might have turned out had we chosen differently, whether we should regret or rejoice in the one we selected.

In playwright Abi Morgan’s ‘Lovesong,’ in production through August 29 at Unicorn Theatre in Stockbridge, she gifts her audience with a glimpse at a couple at the end of a long and complicated marriage. Over 90 intermission-less minutes, we ride shotgun as Maggie (Karen Allen, resplendent) and Billy (a winsome David Garrison) remember themselves as newlyweds Margaret (Rebecca Brooksher) and William (Shawn Fagan) and, together, trace episodes in their four decades of marriage.

Along the way, there are shared moments of joy, silliness, heartbreak and passion. There are also moments of betrayal, boredom, isolation and retreat, any one of which might have sent any one of us on a path straight to a divorce lawyer. Yet, through it all, Maggie/Margaret and Billy/William stay the course, navigating the choppiest waters until, at last, they reach the safe harbor of old age.

Shawn Fagan and Rebecca Brooksher

The trigger for this trip down memory lane is Maggie and Billy’s need to clean out the 40 years of stuff they’ve collected during their marriage as they downsize and move on (any more hints would be a spoiler). Each item they unearth sparks memories and instant time travel back to the moment when they first acquired it. Suddenly, their 30-something selves (Margaret and William) appear, reliving that moment as their 70+ selves watch their relationship slowly replay.

And here lies the intersecting brilliance of Morgan’s script, Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright David Auburn’s direction, and Isadora Wolfe’s movement direction. Like the lithest and most appealing dancers, the two couples are on stage together, gliding past each other, seemingly within millimeters, on Alexander Woodward’s stunning two-story set. Complete with kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, staircase and yard, this home is the perfect hearth for a blending of past and present in this sensitive portrayal of aging, memory and indelible connection.

As the play begins, a Medicare-plus-aged Billy stands on the porch, looking over a slightly overgrown lawn and smoking a cigarette. “When I clean my teeth, I always clean them twice… Because our teeth are our legacy, after bones and muscles have dissolved into dust and the earth, our teeth remain. Their value to archaeologists and paleontologists is infinite and undeniable. They reveal what we eat and how we live. I see it as my duty to preserve them,” he informs the audience.

Preserving legacy even seeps into his dreams, he explains. “In my sleep, I am younger.”

He and Maggie (a role that Allen effortlessly owns) talk about the size of the lawn, whether it has shrunk and whether the peaches are ripe enough to eat. Against the backdrop of drumbeat thrum and swelling music (composition and sound design by Scott Killian), they slowly climb the stairs to get ready for bed. Maggie opens the closet door, and Margaret steps out.

Allen

We first meet William and Margaret as newlyweds. Margaret is thrilled by their house, by the prospect of a future full of the patter of little feet. William is a freshly minted dentist who is chafing under the thumb of his boss. Even though the mortgage is stretching their budget to the breaking point, William wants to take out a loan to open his own practice.

He sits alone at the kitchen table, drink in hand. He downs it, goes to the freezer, removes the bottle of vodka, and refills his glass. Twice. When he tells Margaret his plan, she objects. When he tells her he already secured the location and loan, she hits the roof.

For the first time in this newborn marriage, disagreement has arisen. William sees taking a risk as a crucial element of the success of their future together. “There are going to be moments when you have to leap with me,” he says. “Do you trust me?”

The focus shifts back to the present as Billy and Maggie finish preparing for bed. “We can’t stave off the inevitable,” Maggie (Allen) tells Billy (Garrison), continuing the same conversation some 40 years later.

And, just like that, ‘Lovesong’ casts its magic spell. For the rest of the show, we will travel back to those moments that, for specific reasons private to their shared lives, are the bedrock of this couple’s marital narrative.

We witness the good, the bad, the sacred and the profane that take place over the lifetime of this union. They face many bumps in the road — from infidelity and boredom to learning to balance the need to be alone with the realities of marriage. They are loving and they are mean. They cope with childlessness and illness. They rejoice in eating the peach from the tree they plant.

Morgan has a featherlight touch as she hints at the future without tipping her hand. Auburn’s direction is equally understated, and Daniel J. Kotlowitz’s lighting renders the chronological shape-shifting both artful and credible.

It is the cast, however, who really make the conceit work. Allen doesn’t play Maggie; she is Maggie, from her first moment on stage to her last. As Billy, Garrison brings both a boyish charm and sage resignation. The two share palpable chemistry and artistic sympatico.

Fagan’s William wears his heart on his sleeve, moving from arrogant to insecure to sentimental. Brooksher imbues Margaret with a level-headed maturity and candor that meshes, clashes, and blends with her partner.

Shawn Fagan and Rebecca Brooksher

‘Lovesong’ offers its viewers a glimpse through the keyhole at a couple whose marriage survives those crises that present moments of soul-searching questioning: Can I stay in this marriage? Do I want to stay in this marriage? How many have been at that very fork in the road and wondered, decades later, how their lives might have turned out differently if they had chosen differently?

Maggie/Margaret and Billy/William are one of those couples that chose to struggle through together, to sacrifice the small things for the sake of the bigger picture. As the breathtakingly affecting ending illuminates, such a lifetime lived together is a reflection of life’s most resilient, fragile and intimate offerings. Or at least, it can be.

Highly recommended.

‘Lovesong’ — Written by Abi Morgan. Directed by David Auburn. Scenic Design by Alexander Woodward; Movement Direction by Isadora Wolfe; Costume Design by Amanda Roberge; Lighting Design by Daniel J. Kotlowitz; Composition and Sound Design by Scott Killian. Presented by Berkshire Theatre Group at the Unicorn Theatre, Stockbridge, MA through August 29.

For more information, visit BerkshireTheatreGroup.org

In GSC’s Excellent ‘Betrayal,’ Pinter Creates An Endless Loop of Deception

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Liza Giangrande and Tanner Efinger in Gloucester Stage Company’s production of “Betrayal”. Photos by Shawn G Henry

‘Betrayal’ — Written by Harold Pinter. Directed by Shana Gozansky. Scenic Design by Jeffrey Petersen; Costume Design by Nia Safarr Banks; Lighting Design by Amanda E. Fallon; Sound Design and Composition by Julian Crocamo. Presented by Gloucester Stage Company, 267 East Main Street, Gloucester through August 1

By Shelley A. Sackett

The “Droste effect” is a unique visual experience created by the seemingly infinite repetition of a picture within itself, creating a captivating, recursive image that draws the viewer in and leaves them pondering the limits of reality. Like a telescoped hall of mirrors, the effect is of a picture appearing within itself, in a place where a similar picture would realistically be expected to appear, creating a loop that could theoretically go on forever. Named after a Dutch cocoa company whose packaging featured the effect, the “Droste effect” has captured the imagination of artists, photographers, and design enthusiasts alike.

In 1978, it also captured the imagination of playwright Harold Pinter, whose drama, ‘Betrayal,’ is in production through August 1 at Gloucester Stage Company.

Presented in reverse chronological order, the play traces the nine-year cycle of birth, life and death of an affair between Emma (a glorious Liza Giangrande) and Jerry (Michael Underhill), Emma’s husband Robert’s (Tanner Efinger) best friend. We meet our former lovers as they face the fact that their fiery affair is, alas, smoke and ashes. They have not used the clandestine flat they rented in two years. It’s time to face the fact that their love nest is empty and to move on.

We learn that Emma is a gallerist and Jerry and Robert have a personal (going back to college days) and professional (Jerry is a literary agent, Robert a publisher) relationship. Interestingly, all three have one thing (other than Emma and Jerry’s affair) in common — they all make their living as middle (wo)men, peddling and profiting from the creativity of others.

Underhill and Giangrande

Over 85 intermission-less minutes, these three will take a trip down a Droste tunnel where it becomes impossible to untangle the betrayed from the betrayer. Truth, lies and everything in between lurk more in the interstitial pauses than actual conversation, a signature talent of Pinter’s which he hones to a lethally sharp point in this sparse, nine-scene classic.

Because we know how, why and when the affair ends, our attention can focus on unraveling what makes the characters tick rather than figuring out the plot. Pinter dangles clues and then hides them behind a cloud of scant dialogue and nine-month pregnant pauses. More emotion is revealed by the stellar ensemble (especially Giangrande) and their silent but dramatic reactions than by the words they actually say aloud to each other. These are people who live in the shadows, whose dishonesty with each other is only surpassed by their disingenuousness with themselves.

About the only consistent link among them seems to be the belief that monogamy breeds monotony. That and a penchant for conversation that is cerebral, pithy and devoid of passion.

Efinger, Jeremy Beazlie, Underhill

Yet, thanks to Shana Gozansky’s focused, expert direction (she hits that elusive dramatic sweet spot of milking each pause without ever overdoing it) and a top-notch production team and cast, the play rarely lags.

The “Memento” (Christopher Nolan’s cinematic masterpiece) experience begins subtly with a seductive jazz soundtrack (Sound and Composition design by Julian Crocamo) before the play starts, setting a relaxed but sexy tone. As the timeline runs in reverse from 1977 to 1968, so does the soundtrack, sounding more like the Beatles’ “Revolution No. 9” by the end. Jeffrey Petersen’s slick, impersonal set morphs easily from pub to house to apartment to hotel and restaurant. Back-lit walls that silhouette the characters as they change costumes (Lighting Design by Amanda E. Fallon, Costume Design by Nia Safarr Banks) bring reminders of the late 1960s-70s mod, go-go style that featured sharp tailoring, bold colors, and geometric shapes.

All four cast members are superb. Jeremy Beazlie is a tension-breaking relief and delight in his comic waiter cameos. As Jerry, Underhill embodies his narcissistic immaturity and boyish shallowness. Efinger brings an undertone of dissatisfaction and sadness to a character whose anhedonia knows no relief except when he is playing squash.

But it is Giangrande as Emma who anchors the production both plot-wise and by her nuanced portrayal of a complex, perplexed and enigmatic woman whose identity seems dependent on mistreatment by and of men. Beyond all the duplicity, deception, infidelity, competition and power tripping exhibited by our damaged trio, the most chilling moment is Robert’s confession that he hit Emma. “I wasn’t inspired to do it from any kind of moral standpoint. I just felt like giving her a good bashing. The old itch…you understand,” he confides to Jerry.

Like all satisfying theater, ‘Betrayal’ leaves us pondering big-ticket questions. What exactly constitutes “betrayal?” Is it an action? An omission? Is it knowing about the act and saying nothing? Does a betrayer owe loyalty to their co-conspirator or to their partner or to neither? Can only lovers suffer and commit betrayal, or does it extend to strangers?

But, most difficult to understand of all, is why our ill-fated lovebirds thought that renting a flat together would cure their malaise. A placeholder that is neither home not hotel, they set up house, replicating that which is obviously not working in their “real” lives. If it were, they wouldn’t be having an affair, or, now knowing these two as best as is possible, would they?

For more information, visit: https://gloucesterstage.com/

Fast-paced, Colorful, and Highly Entertaining NSMT’s ‘Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat’ Is A Crowd Pleaser

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By Shelley A. Sackett

What a set of pipes Olivia Valli has! The granddaughter of iconic singer and actor Frankie Valli (known as the lead singer of Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons), Olivia has also played her own grandmother, Mary Delgado, in ‘Jersey Boys’ Off-Broadway. As the omnipresent Narrator in North Shore Music Theatre’s excellent ‘Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,’ she brings an excitement and hip, young vibe to one of the oldest and best-known stories ever told.

Nikita Burshteyn (Joseph) and Olivia Valli (Narrator) and the cast of “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” at North Shore Music Theatre

It’s a pretty safe bet, however, that this dazzling, high-energy and delightfully entertaining version of the Genesis tale is a far cry from the one you grew up with.

First, a nutshell primer. Joseph’s father, Jacob, had 12 sons, but favored Joseph and gave him the famous multi-colored coat as a gift. This sends his brothers, already jealous of Jacob’s favoritism, nearly over the edge. When Joseph tells them of his two dreams in which all the brothers bowed down to him, they decide to get rid of him. They throw him into a pit and then sell him into slavery. The brothers then dip Joseph’s coat in goat blood and show it to their father, saying that a lion tore Joseph apart.

Joseph ends up in Pharaoh’s court as his favored vizier after he correctly interprets Pharaoh’s dreams, ensuring Egypt’s survival and prosperity during a predicted famine. Joseph’s brothers, suffering in Canaan, travel to Egypt, where they bow before a Joseph they do not recognize (thus fulfilling his prophetic dream) and beg him to sell them food.

Joseph eventually reveals himself, the brothers retrieve their father, and they all live happily ever after, a family reunited and absolved.

How lyricist Tim Rice and composer Andrew Lloyd Webber managed to come up with their inventively fresh spin on this old tale is one of the unheralded wonders of the world.

Precision-perfect direction and choreography by Gerry McIntyre match Robert L. Rucinski’s always luminous musical direction as the cast and children’s chorus sing and dance their way through numbers that range from a country-and-western hoedown and calypso to 1970s disco and 1920s Charleston. There’s even a 1960s hip-shaking Pharaoh as Elvis and a 1970s go-go number. Somehow, it works; Rice and Weber successfully infuse this well-known tale with a mish-mash of styles without sacrificing narrative cohesion or artistic integrity.

To boot, the quality of talent, from dancing to soaring harmonies and swoon-worthy solos (Valli brings down the house several times with her powerhouse voice and comedic timing), is icing on this already delectable cake. The ensemble meshes beautifully, yet supports individual spotlights, such as Brent Thiessen as Pharoah/Elvis, Nikita Burshteyn as Joseph, Eric Jordan Young as Jacob/Potiphar, and Naomi Kakuk’s dance solo as the slinkiest Mrs. Potiphar this side of Michelle Pfeiffer’s Catwoman.

Although ‘Joseph’ is over 130 minutes long (one intermission), unlike other recent NSMT productions, the show feels well-paced, exciting, and interesting, from start to finish. Even if you’ve seen ‘Joseph’ before, seeing it in the round lends a new twist. And if you’re seeing it for the first time, you’re in for a treat — NSMT’s production was worth the wait!

Recommended.

‘Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat’ — Lyrics by Tim Rice. Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Music Direction by Robert L. Rucinski. Direction and Choreography by Gerry McIntyre. Scenic Design by Baron E. Pugh; Costume Coordination by Rebecca Glick; Lighting Design by Jose Santiago; Sound Design by Alex Berg; Wig and Hair Design by Rachel Padula-Shufelt. Produced by North Shore Music Theatre, 54 Dunham Road, Beverly through July 19.

For more information, visit https://www.nsmt.org/

Even BinB’s Glitzy Production Pizazz Can’t Hide the Underlying Tragedy of ‘The Great Gatsby’

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By Shelley A. Sackett

It’s not surprising that the current climate of skyrocketing economic disparity and criminal impunity has spawned renewed interest in The Great Gatsby, the story of Jay Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s fictional mega-nouveau-riche man with a mysterious back story and lavish lifestyle. Set in the post-WWI, giddy, glitzy Jazz Age, the 1925 novel depicts first-person narrator Nick Carraway’s interactions with Gatsby, a man haunted by his past and obsessed with reuniting with his former lover, Carraway’s cousin, Daisy Buchanan.

As has been the case with many Broadway in Boston productions, the best quality of ‘The Great Gatsby’ lies in its production value. The giant period musical spares no expense when it comes to extravagant sets (Paul Tate dePoo III), costumes (Linda Cho) and orchestration (Jason Howland). Alas, no amount of moving screens, fancy projections and on-stage gimmickry (including several vintage cars) can mask the fact that beneath the eye and ear candy, this emperor of a production wears no clothes.

Cast of Broadway in Boston’s ‘The Great Gatsby’

There is quite a bit of meat on the bones of Fitzgerald’s tragic tale. It’s spring 1922, and Yale alumnus and World War I veteran Carraway (an appealing Joshua Grosso) has moved from the Midwest to New York City, where he hopes to get a job selling bonds. He rents a cottage on Long Island in East Egg, next to Gatsby (Jake David Smith) and across the sound from his cousin Daisy (a sadly miscast Senzel Ahmady), who lives in the “old money” town of West Egg with her husband, Tom Buchanan (Will Branner).

Glimpses of a plot emerge. Daisy and Gatsby became sweethearts when he was stationed near her before overseas deployment. He was unable to reconnect; she thought he was dead. She reluctantly married the wealthy, brutish and philandering Buchanan because, well, what else was a young single socialite to do?

Now she has a baby, money and a ball and chain named Tom Buchanan.

Staying with the Buchanans is Jordan Baker (Leanne Robinson, a welcome relief), an outspoken flapper, golf champion and childhood friend of Daisy’s. She fills Carraway in on the unspoken details of the goings on in this sad, unhumble abode.

Buchanan (a fellow Yalie who remembers Carraway), for his part, is carrying on an affair with Myrtle (Lila Coogan), who lives in semi-squalor with her clueless, sad-sack mechanic husband, George (Justin Scott Brown). Buchanan pampers her with gifts, a suite at the Plaza, and the occasional broken nose. She all but rubs it in George’s impossibly naive face.

Joshua Grosso, Lila Coogan. Will Branner

Meanwhile, Gatsby explains to Carraway that he built the mansion directly across from Daisy’s house so he could see her. His only mission in life is to win her back. He enlists Carraway’s help in setting up a meeting, which eventually leads to a rekindled affair.

Along the way to its grim and fateful conclusion, ‘Gatsby’ picks up steam with bootleggers, mistaken identities, trysts, deaths and the reveal that the main difference between the rich and the unrich is the latter’s ability to shield themselves from the consequences of their reckless, selfish acts and the former’s fate to clean up the mess and try to keep on keeping on.

If all this sounds like juicy fodder for a gritty drama, it is. What it is not is grist for the kind of run-of-the-mill musical currently in Boston.

In fairness, ’The Great Gatsby’ does a good job of exposing the dark, violent underbelly of the glittering 1920s. But its misguided (though entertaining) insistence on peppering the production with goofy, comic musical numbers feels like a red herring intended to distract the audience from the fact that this is a gossamer version of Fitzgerald’s classic tale.

While most of the cast is in fine vocal form (especially Smith as Gatsby and Robinson as Baker), they are hamstrung by a script that provides little emotional exploration and connection. Branner does what he can with two-dimensional Buchanan and Grosso tries to elevate Carraway above his role as flaky narrator and moralist, but, in Ahmady’s hands, the central role of Daisy is unfortunately (and distractingly) demoted to the trivial.

Nonetheless, if a summer night of razzle-dazzle is what you’re in the mood for, by all means attend (and revel in) this musical version of ‘The Great Gatsby.’ Just don’t expect F. Scott’s ghost to be lurking in the wings, nodding in approval.

‘The Great Gatsby’ — Book by Kait Kerrigan. Based on the novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Lyrics by Nathan Tysen. Music by Jason Howland. Directed by Marc Bruni. Music Supervision and Arrangements by Jason Howland; Choreography by Dominique Kelley; Scenic and Projection Design by Paul Tate dePoo III; Costume Design by Linda Cho; Lighting Design by Cory Pattak; Sound Design by Brian Ronan. Presented by Broadway in Boston at Citizens Opera House, Boston through July 19.

For more information, visit https://www.boston-theater.com/shows/citizens-bank-opera-house/the-great-gatsby

Two Couples, Each On the Verge of Connection, Take Different Paths in ‘In Old Age’ and ‘Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune’

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Ebony Marshall-Oliver and Marvin Bell in Front Porch Arts Collective’s ‘In Old Age’

Reviewed by Shelley A. Sackett

On the surface, two plays, both two-handers running through June 28, have much in common. They both center on men and women seeking second chances at connection after suffering through previous unhealthy relationships. Both feature intensely persistent men who face uphill battles convincing the women to see them as life rafts rather than (another) albatross necklace.

Both women resist, terrifying ghosts of their pasts still fresh and evidenced in the emotional and physical scars they bear. They have convinced themselves that they are happy (enough), settled in their aloneness. Fear of repeating past miseries outweighs any desire to explore alternatives; as far as they’re concerned, the possibility of finding real love is a ship that sailed long ago.

Yet, for all their similarities, In Old Age (Front Porch Arts Collective) and Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune (Psych Drama Company) couldn’t be more different.

The eighth and penultimate installment of playwright Mfoniso Udofia’s nine-part Ufot Family Cycle, In Old Age (105 min., no intermission) centers on Abasiama (an expressive, nuanced and captivating Ebony Marshall-Oliver), the 80-year-old Nigerian-American matriarch who lives in the house she shared with her deceased husband in Worcester. The house hasn’t been updated since 2001; there is a rusty coal stove in the living room, the floors creak, the windows are sieves and whatever repairs need to be done, well, Abasiama handles them herself.

She knows the house is falling apart (the play opens with a piece of molding falling off the wall and her trying in vain to stick it back on), but she is content in her cocoon where she no longer has to do anything she doesn’t want to do and where what she has and what she has been is fine with her. At her age, she has no interest in picturing what something could become or in imagining what might come next.

Her daughter, Toyoima, has other ideas. As a surprise gift, she has hired a carpenter to renovate her mother’s home. Abasiama learns all this when Azell Abernathy (a convincingly winsome and equally captivating Marvin Bell) shows up one early morning, banging on her door.

He explains that his church keeps a list of workers whom they send out on jobs. Toyoima contacted his pastor to hire someone to build her mother the house of her dreams. “I’m your man — workman,” he explains to the thunderstruck Abasiama. “It’s been a long time since I met someone with the ability to piss me right off,” she replies.

Their rocky start goes from pebbles to boulders. Azell hasn’t worked in a while and this project will be his last job. “It’s got angel dust on it,” he says prophetically. He is no-nonsense and gung-ho, demanding that she pick out new flooring and wall colors. He is smooth-talking and doggedly enthusiastic, confident that if Abasiama follows his rules, everything will run smoothly.

He never anticipated his client would thwart his every move, battling him tooth and nail with rules and demands of her own. Abasiama may be the feistiest, stubbornest, most independent woman he has ever met. She calls him a “charming bulldozer.”

If he’s going to force her to let him guide and witness as she opens up and embraces change, she wants a quid pro quo from him. Azell has to make himself vulnerable to her too and reveal intimate details about himself. “What kind of man are you?” she asks by way of introducing this idea. “Tell me something about your women.”

As they work through the renovation project, it takes on the tenor of a spiritual renewal for these two. Their ease with each other increases as their relationship unfolds organically. They talk about and own their mistakes. They exhaust each other, exasperate each other, and ultimately trust each other and themselves. They approach the idea of friendship as steady, capable adults, with openness, tenderness and honesty.

Udofia’s script is funny, moving, romantic, emotional and more intimate than a 10-alarm lovemaking scene. She weaves in the ancestral spirits and ghosts that have been integral to every Ufot play. Director Dawn M. Simmons has done a marvelous job, as have Eduardo Ramirez (lighting), Arshan Gailus (lighting), and Jeffrey Peterson (set). Most of all, Marshall-Oliver and Bell are pitch perfect as Abasiama and Azell; they bring an authenticity that hooks us emotionally and artistically.

Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune tackles the same subject of the possibility of second-chance connections to wildly different effect. Frankie, a cagey, hardened waitress, and Johnny, a short-order cook who spouts Shakespeare and declarations of love, work in the same diner. The set (Allie Glavey ) is Frankie’s apartment; its main focus is the bed, where most of the play’s action takes place, including the opening scene of acrobatic sex accompanied by moans and groans of operatic volume and duration.

Wndy Lippe and Cliff Blake in The Psych Drama Company’s ‘Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune’

Frankie and Johnny are on their first date after eyeing each other for a while. Initially lurid, amusing, then (after overstaying its welcome by too many beats— the case in most of the play) boring, this sexual romp sets the tone for the next 150 minutes (one intermission).

The rest of the play takes place over the course of this single evening. Although meant to reveal these two to each other and to the audience, playwright Terrence McNally has given them little to work with. Johnny’s “I love you” and Frankie’s “You really don’t know me” mantras elicit eye rolls and watch checking after the first half dozen declarations. They are both relentless, repetitive, and cardboard, more caricatures than fleshed-out people. They are vulnerable and pitiable, but we don’t care and so we really don’t care if they come together or not.

McNally pays lip service to character development, but never really scratches below the surface. Where Azell is a charming bulldozer, Johnny is more tedious, a demolition derby. He talks over Frankie, dismisses her and starts to creep her (and us) out when he refuses to leave despite her repeated requests for him to do so.

Frankie’s character fares a little better, and Wendy Lippe gives it her all, but there’s little for her to hook onto, and she and Cliff Blake (Johnny) have little chemistry. By the time dawn breaks on our immature pair, we want to congratulate them for making it through the night and ourselves for lasting through the second act.

Before June 28, maybe someone should buy Frankie and Johnny tickets to see In Old Age — they might learn a thing or two about grown-up relationships.

‘In Old Age’ — Written by Mfoniso Udofia. Directed by Dawn M. Simmons. Scenic Design by Jeffrey Peterson; Lighting Design by Eduardo Ramirez; Sound Design by Arshan Gailus; Costume Design by Chloe Moore. A Front Porch Arts Collective production presented by Arts Emerson at Emerson Paramount Center, 559 Washington St., Boston through June 28.

‘Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune’ — Written by Terrence McNally. Directed by Julia Murney. Technical and Set Design by Allie Glavey; Lighting Design by Matthew Breton; Sound Design by Olivia Comolli; Intimacy Coordination by Katie Thorn. Presented by The Psych Drama Company, Inc. & Luckiest Films, LLC at Plaza Black Box Theatre, 539 Tremont St., Boston through June 28.

For more information, visit https://artsemerson.org/events/in-old-age/ and https://www.bostontheatrescene.com/shows-and-events/frankie-johnny-in-the-clair-de-lune/

‘Bad Books’ Dives Way Below A Book’s Cover to Explore Meaty Topics in GSC’s Riotous New Play

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Reviewed by Shelley A. Sackett

On its surface, Bad Books looks much like many recent productions that touch on the book bannings that are sweeping our nation faster than the wildfires in our beloved West. (See, for example, Shelf Help: Tales of the Unbound by Patricia Morgan and Jena Enfinger; Dirty Books by Max Lieberman, and Alabama Story by Kenneth Jones).

What separates Gloucester Stage Company’s cracker-jack production of playwright Sharyn Rothstein’s two-hander goes deeper than its crackling dialogue, crisp acting, and direction. Rothstein hulls this symbol of repression and fear to ask deeper and more universal questions: What is our role as parents? Do we ever really know our kids the way we think we do? Is that even possible? When they seek unbiased help elsewhere, how do we, as parents, deal with that? What drives our prejudices, our belief systems, our secret night terrors? When is it ok for us to agree to disagree and when must we dig in our heels, stand our ground and take to the Internet to recruit support and attention? What about the collateral damage we cause, intentionally and unintentionally, when fighting this “good fight?”

And these only scratch the surface of a play that, though not flawless, should be seen and discussed by theatergoers who enjoy after-theater dishing as much as watching the live performance.

Plus, it is REALLY funny, and who among us couldn’t use a belly laugh these days?

Therese Plaehnand Aimee Doherty in Gloucester Stage’s ‘Bad Books’. Jeff Bousquet Photography.

Dahlia Al-Habieli’s set is simple yet contemporary, with stained-glass panels and movable furniture that easily changes from library to office to church assembly room and back again. The action begins in media res, with two women grunting and circling each other mid-jab. They sway; they parry, they lunge. The music is sporting-event hysteria, the action slo-mo.

Just as suddenly, we are in the empty library. The Librarian (the enormously talented and perfectly cast Therese Plaehn) is alone, removing books from a box marked “donations.” Suddenly, she slams the book shut. “Ow! Motherf—!” she shouts, swallowing the last syllables when she hears a woman clearing her throat. The Mother (Aimee Doherty, whose chameleon face can change from warrior to piteous in a flash) stands there, armed with a large purse and a book.

“Welcome to the library!” the Librarian (Rothstein identifies her characters by title rather than name) cheerfully regales.

From the get-go, these two reveal as hot-headed, articulate, and determined. The book the Mother is holding is titled “Boob Juice,” and she found it in her son Jeremy’s room, recommended by none other than the Librarian. After light-hearted, snarky banter that establishes each as smart and no-nonsense (and, in the case of the Librarian, very funny), the Mother’s mission becomes clear. She has come to challenge the Librarian for recommending this book without first receiving parental (i.e., her) express permission.

The Librarian tries her best to explain the context of the situation. Jeremy confided in her that he was confronting challenges he couldn’t talk to his mother about. Jeremy loves books and spends quite a bit of time in the library (defying his mother’s wish for him to take more interest in sports and social activities). He trusts the Librarian; she, in turn, only has his best interests at heart.

The Mother (who has only read its jacket) knows that this book is inappropriate for her son and that it is even more inappropriate for the Librarian to have given it to him. The book, after all, deals with abortion. She refers to 15-year-old Jeremy as “a child.” She presents as a struggling, high-strung, single mother whose identity is unhealthily welded to controlling her son under the guise of protecting him. She is mother and father to Jeremy, and that is all her son needs.

Doherty and Plaehn

She also harbors a deep, dark secret which the Librarian not only knows, but, armed with which she tries, in vain, to reason with the Mother. The Mother is having none of it, and the two take off their kid gloves, lacing up their inner weapons of mass verbal destruction.

Undaunted, the Librarian goes toe to toe and snark for snark with the Mother. She may not have children of her own, but she recognizes and champions “thoughtful young people who love books” — like Jeremy. She goes so far as to suggest it takes a village to raise a child, hinting that the Mother might try something other than terror and domination with her son. Something, maybe, like trust.

At which point, the Mother’s cup of rage boileth over.

She convenes her minions with an internet I.E.D. that paints a crosshair on the Librarian’s back. “I am a member of a lot of groups,” she snarls. Soon, there are hordes gathered outside the library armed with more than just snacks. The situation devolves into mayhem, a Pandora’s box of gremlins released. Scene I ends with what sounds as much like sandbox taunts as cris de coeurs. “Because I am the Mother,” one shouts in desperation.

“And I,” the other responds with a symbolic gesture that leaves the audience roaring, “am the Librarian.”

The other three scenes follow the Mother’s travails as she meets with her boss and the mother of one of Jeremy’s friends before we end up where we began, at the library. (Plaehn plays the boss, other mother and herself while Doherty never changes character). We may have come full circle set-wise, but much has changed for our antagonists, both internally and externally. (Revealing any more about Rothstein’s intricate plot twists would both label me a spoiler and result in editorial reprimands).

Thankfully, discussing the big-ticket issues that Bad Books raises (beyond censorship, of course, and the right to read and write whatever you want) is sanctioned.

Doherty

There are many and they are timely. In this messy world of differing opinions, for example, how obligated is anyone (including a playwright) to present all sides? Does one have the right to ban one’s own book? How do we deal with the virulent spread of public shaming when we are victims (Revenge? Defense? Depression?), and is there ever enough contrition to absolve the perpetrators? And, perhaps most importantly of all, in a world increasingly polemical and divided, is there any realistic hope for mediation and compromise, or have we entered a no man’s land of survival of the fittest?

Rothstein’s play may not be perfect (oversimplified characters, a somewhat contrived plot and a squishy ending), but her dialogue and the actors’ performances (especially Plaehn, who commands every scene she’s in) more than overcome those craftsmanship bugs. And at 90 minutes (no intermission), Bad Books hits that sweet spot of sating without saturation.

Bad Books (Regional Premiere) by Sharyn Rothstein. Directed by M. Bevin O’Gara, Scenic Design by Dahlia Al-Habieli, Costume Design by Chelsea Kerl, Lighting Design by Karen Perlow, Sound Design by Zoe Stanton-Savitz, Props Design by Emme Shaw, Fight Consulting by Omar Robinson, Movement Consulting by Sophia Shaw, Stage Managed by Chris Daly. Produced by the Gloucester Stage Company, 267 East Main St., Gloucester, through June 27, 2026.

For more information, visit https://gloucesterstage.com/badbooks/

NSMT’s ‘On Your Feet!’ Is A Nostalgic, if Clichéd, Look Back at Gloria and Emilio Estefan’s Remarkable Marriage and Career

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By Shelley A. Sackett

On Your Feet!, in production at North Shore Music Theater through June 14, is a feel-good jukebox musical that played on Broadway for two years before hitting the road for an international tour that continues some nine years later. Based on the lives and musical careers of the 26-time Grammy Award-winning team, Gloria and Emilio Estefan, the musical features a score built around the Cuban-fusion pop music that brought the couple fame, fortune, and a life together, noteworthy for its lack of rancor as much as for its longevity.

It also features choreography by the talented Marcos Santana, music direction by award-winning Jose Delgado, and an engaging set by Jack Mehler.

Like most jukebox musicals, On Your Feet! uses pre-existing, well-known popular songs (26 to be precise) for its score, rather than original music composed for the show. These tunes are woven together to create a brand-new narrative.

Isabel Leoni as Gloria Estefan in “On Your Feet! The Story of Emilio & Gloria Estefan” at North Shore Music Theatre thru June 14, 2026. Photos © Paul Lyden

Those familiar with the group’s repertoire will delight in this menu of hits; to the unfamiliar, they start to blend into a single high-energy song, repetitive but nonetheless enjoyable.

As is the case in every NSMT performance, the theater-in-the-round’s production values are high and among the show’s highlights. The many screens above the stage flash snapshots of the Estefans and their families. Director Santana starts off with a bang as the taut, terrific nine-piece band rises from center stage to the beat and blaring horns of the duo’s signature, “Rhythm Is Gonna Get You,” a promise the show keeps throughout its entire 2-plus hours (one intermission). The entire audience chair-danced right along with the excellent dancers.

Would, however, that the script (and, for the most part, acting) were as engaging and peppy as the score. Although there are some good points made about immigrants and the uphill battle of breaking into the mainstream American music scene, character and plot development take a back seat to the fast-paced and complex salsa, cumbia, bachata and other Cuban-based dance numbers. It starts to feel like we’re on a fabulous island vacation, which is one of the musical’s strengths.

The other is the vocal prowess of many of the actors, especially Karmine Alers as Gloria’s mother, Isabel Leoni as the adult Gloria, and Kendall Rivera as Young Gloria. Henry Gainza, as Gloria’s father, has his moment in the spotlight with a magnificent solo. The ensemble dances and sings their hearts out and, clad in Emilio Sosa’s sassy, sequined costumes, is worth the price of admission.

The storyline follows the couple’s journey: Cuban boy meets Cuban girl, boy woos girl, boy gets girl, boy and girl marry and make their way to America, where the couple takes the world by storm with their blend of music and chemistry. In this case, Emilio and Gloria’s path has a few detours that provide context, pathos and joy. Gloria’s overbearing mother (Alers is very good) resents that Gloria is getting to live the dream she had to give up when she became pregnant with Gloria. Her abuela (grandmother), a showstopping Sydia Cedeño-Genat, keeps the peace between the two while encouraging Gloria to go for it when Emilio notices her and asks her to sing with his previously all-male band.

Isabel Leoni (Gloria Estefan), Marcello Audino (Emilio Estefan), cast

Other touching, more emotive scenes are when Gloria sings to her father, bedridden with MS, and when she and her mother reconcile after two years of no communication. In both scenes, tender ballads set the tone and add variety to the otherwise dance-driven soundtrack.

The 1990 bus accident that left Gloria with two fractured vertebrae is meant to be an important turning point, but misdirection and unnuanced acting strip it of poignancy and impact. Gloria goes from a wheelchair to the stage for the American Music Awards with hardly a beat skipped.

Nonetheless, for all its shortcomings, there is no denying the raw energy, beautiful music (especially the harmonies) and lively dancing that are On Your Feet!’s strengths. For some, that alone can be enough.

NSMT’s ‘On Your Feet!’ Is A Nostalgic, if Clichéd, Look Back at Gloria and Emilio Estefan’s Remarkable Marriage and Career‘On Your Feet!’. Book by Alexander Dinelaris. Featuring Music Produced and Recorded by Emilio & Gloria Estefan & Miami Sound Machine. Directed and Choreographed by Marcos Santana. Set and Lighting Design by Jack Mehler; Costume Design by Emilio Sosa; Sound Design by Alex Berg; Wig and Hair Design by Charles G. LaPointe; Projection Design by Pamela Hersch. Presented by North Shore Music Theatre, 54 Dunham Rd., Beverly, through June 14.

For more information, visit http://nsmt.org/

‘Eureka Day’ Tackles Serious Topics with Biting Insight and Riotous Wit

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By Shelley A. Sackett

It’s not every playwright who could find gut-splitting humor in the raw topic of divergent views about vaccinations and their collateral damage of incivility, intolerance and epistemic crisis (a situation where society loses its shared consensus on fundamental facts that results in the mechanisms used to determine what is a true breakdown).

Not to mention preventable life-threatening illness.

Yet, Jonathan Spector has done just that and more with Eureka Day, his 100-minute play in production at The Huntington through June 28. Timely, razor-sharp and depressingly pertinent, the play takes place during the 2018/2019 school year, penned right before COVID (during Trump I) unleashed a Pandora’s Box that makes us long for the innocence and sanity of Eureka Day. (It won the 2025 Tony Award for Best Revival of a Play.)

The plot revolves around a five-member school committee at a private fictional elementary school in Berkeley, California, that prides itself on diversity, equity, inclusion and political correctness. The members smugly delight in congratulating themselves about how diverse, equal and inclusive they are. Every community member is listened to and accepted. They “hold space for” all opinions and decisions are reached by consensus.

If there were a school chant, it would be “Om shanti.” If there were a school song, it would be “Kumbaya.”

Eunice Woods, Nancy Lemenager, and Ken Cheeseman in Huntington’s ‘Eureka Day’. Photos by Liza Voll

All this has worked perfectly enough until the rubber hits the road when the committee’s well-meant liberalism has to confront a real issue where unanimity may be a pipe dream.

The play opens with the members called for an unprecedented emergency meeting. Spector methodically establishes each character’s persona as they act (and react) in response to Head of School Don’s (a splendid Ken Cheeseman) presentation of the issue at hand.

First, he opens the meeting with quotes from Rumi, the Sufi mystic, poet, and founder of the Islamic brotherhood known as the Mevlevi Order. He dons an almost creepy smile, swooning as he reads.

An anonymous parent has submitted a request to amend the school’s admission form in response to an outbreak of mumps. There are currently no vaccination requirements. The proposal is to alter that policy, requiring a number of vaccinations, including — and especially — mumps.

Suzanne (an equally splendid Nancy Lemenager) quickly emerges as the committee’s (and perhaps the entire town’s) self-appointed doyenne. Well-off, well-coiffed, and well-outfitted, she interrupts, mind-reads, Suzanne-splains, and all but demands fealty. She reminds everyone that she has served on this board for 30 years, joking that she had her last child so she could keep serving.

Nancy Lemenager

It turns out that Suzanne is also a rabid anti-vaxxer who would die on her sword before vaccinating her own children, let alone demanding that others vaccinate theirs.

Suddenly, it also turns out that her championing “holding space for others’ points of view” is mere lip service unless those views mirror hers.

Sasha Diamond, Japhet Balaban

Single mom Meiko (Sasha Diamond) spends the meeting with eyes glued to her knitting, but doesn’t miss a beat. Eli (Japhet Balaban) is swimming in tech nouveau riches and prides himself on the open marriage he and his wife enjoy. He is only slightly less disruptive than Suzanne, derailing conversations mid-syllable.

Last is Carina (a smooth Eunice Woods), a recent transplant to the Eureka community. She is this year’s committee’s at-large “new parent” representative. She is also its only Black member.

Eunice Woods

The plot thickens as it is revealed that Meiko’s child has mumps, that she and Eli are having an affair, that Eli’s son contracted mumps with dire consequences after playing with Meiko’s daughter, and that Carina is the anonymous parent requesting a change in admission policy.

Further complicating matters is the fact that the city’s health division was alerted to the outbreak and has written a letter that states unequivocally that no student is to be allowed back into the school without documentation of vaccination until there is “no risk of exposure.”

Don, the wannabe peacemaker, is about to have a night he won’t soon forget. You can almost hear Bette Davis crooning, “Fasten your seat belts. It’s about to be a bumpy ride.”

Illusions of harmony and consensus quickly melt as the members approach the issue with the tact and finesse of bulls in a china closet. Hoping to garner support, Suzanne suggests a “Community-activated conversation” on Zoom. Don opens the meeting and encourages participants to use the chat tab (which is projected above the committee members in a font large enough to actually read).

Sasha Diamond, Nancy Lemenager, Ken Cheeseman, Eunice Woods, and Japhet Balaban

These comments quickly devolve from private, individual conversations to the kind of tasteless, offensive attacks that have come to define disagreements in this age of anything goes.

They are also belly-laugh hilarious, and it’s an interesting sensation to cringe and laugh for such a prolonged (perhaps too prolonged?) period of time.

The rest of the play may feel a bit dated, circular, and unnuanced at times, but there is no denying that Spector has written a play that both plumbs the limits of honest, benevolent, open-mindedness and allows us to recognize and poke fun at ourselves. He also poses some serious questions whose answers come with serious consequences.

What exactly is acceptable “collateral damage” to achieve a policy goal? At what point must “majority rule?” And who gets to decide how that majority is determined?

Written and first performed in pre-COVID times, the failure of a utopia played to a different crowd when it premiered. In 2025, as we grapple with the changes seven years have wrought, Spector brilliantly adds a single line to the play’s end that endears its squabbling characters for their naïveté at what’s in store in this tragicomical new world.

“Work hard,” Don announces in his farewell and final all-school address. “It’s going to be clear skies and smooth sailing as we launch together into the 2019-2020 school year.”

The audience erupted in raucous laughter, applause, and deep cathartic exhalations on opening night.

Recommended.

‘Eureka Day’ – Written by Jonathan Spector. Directed by Margot Bordelon. Scenic Design by Luciana Stecconi. Costume Design by Zoe Sundra. Lighting Design by Cha See. Sound Design by Daniela Hart, Noel Nichols, Bailey Trierweiler & UptownWorks. Presented by The Huntington, 264 Huntington Ave., Boston through June 28.

For more information, visit huntingtontheatre.org

Category: Theater Reviews

Umbrella Stage Co.’s ‘Hairspray’ Kicks Off Summer with A Rollicking Good Time

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By Shelley A. Sackett
 
Hairspray, the musical set in 1962 Baltimore with an offbeat following, features an outcast yet optimistic high schooler who lands a spot on a local TV dance show and campaigns for racial integration. It originated as a cult-classic 1988 John Waters film with Divine, Ricki Lake, John Waters, Jerry Stiller, Deborah Harry and Sonny Bono, evolved into a 2002 Tony Award-winning Broadway musical, and became a blockbuster 2007 movie adaptation (John Travolta, Michelle Pfeiffer, and Christopher Walken).
 
With Umbrella Stage Company’s recent bang-up production, it once again proved that, despite being almost four decades old, it will never lose its staying power for one very important reason — it is FUN.

On its surface, the story is about teenagers who just want to fit in and be accepted by the “in” (as in WASP) crowd. Pleasantly plump, jovial and chatty Baltimore teenager Tracy Turnblad (Nora Sullivan) and best friend Penny Singleton (Maggie Cavanaugh) race home after school every day to watch “The Corny Collins Show,” a local TV danceathon. Tracy yearns to be a dancer on the show, even dreaming of being hand-picked by Corny (Joshua Lapierre) to be on his Council (the super Popular Kids). Some of those kids go to Tracy and Penny’s school.


Tracy’s mother, Edna (played in drag, as Waters tradition demands, by an outstanding Robert Saoud), is as oversized and big-hearted as her daughter. She worries Tracy will be crushed if she reaches too high. Dad Wilbur (Chip Phillips) is Tracy’s biggest cheerleader. He encourages her to live large, dream big and go for it.
 
By hook and by crook, she passes the audition and becomes an overnight teen celebrity. The show is produced with an iron fist by stage manager, Velma (Aimee Doherty in a role that finally fits her like a glove), the mother of dancer, Amber, whom she is scheming to get elected to the inner Council.

Nick Corsi, Sullivan

Station policy (it is 1962 after all), which Velma cheerfully enforces, dictates the show’s “whites only” policy. The one exception is a monthly Negro Day, hosted by local R&B disc jockey “Motormouth” Maybelle Stubbs (Barbara Pierre, whose singing raises the roof and then sets it on fire).
 
(The “Corny Collins Show” was inspired by the real “Buddy Deane Show,” which ran from 1957 to 1964 and held segregated “Negro Days” rather than integrate its broadcast.)

Tracy is regularly sent to detention (her teased, lacquered hair is also “too big”). There, she meets Black kids who teach her how to dance in a whole new and exciting way. They also teach her about racism, Baltimore style.

Robert Saoud, Nora Sullivan


Tracy returns to “The Corny Collins Show,” determined to use her newfound fame to advocate for racial integration on the show, win the heart of Amber’s boyfriend, heartthrob Link Larkin (Nick Corsi), and defeat the racist and sizeist Velma. She takes on the daunting task of challenging these social norms by being her bright and breezy plus-sized self, a proud woman on television advocating for what is right.
 
Eventually she succeeds after protests, arrests and a whole lotta music, singing and dancing.
 
Which brings me to the real reason to see Hairspray: the MUSIC, the SINGING and the DANCING.
 
This is one non-stop, high energy extravaganza that runs on the even higher octane of Tracy’s infectious happiness and confidence. From the opening note, the fabulous band (Jordan Oczkowski, conductor), cast and ensemble are in full-throated sync as they frolic, leap, bop and cavort. (Najee A. Brown, director and choreographer). The sound is perfect (Alex Berg), the band audible, the singers comprehensible. Cameron McEachern’s vibrant set with colorful TVs, records, and “Hullabaloo” and “Shindig” era scaffold-like structures transports the audience (and their nostalgic parents and grandparents) back to the glories of glorious sixties culture.
 
Notwithstanding the sheer joy of the production, there are meaty issues acknowledged and addressed head-on. When Motormouth discovers her son, Seaweed, and Penny have fallen in love, she warns them, “So you two better brace yourselves for a whole lot of ugly coming your way on a never-ending train of stupid.”


 

Simone Alyse, Pearl Scott, and Nikita Darosa


Although all ends well enough and the caliber of production is steady to the finish line, this entertainment is neither fluff nor dated. For every laugh and dream that burns bright, there are tears and dreams snuffed out. The 1960s were a time of reckoning, awakening, and wrestling with the disparity between what is and what could and should be. The fight for people of ALL sizes, shapes, politics, races and religions to be accepted does not just lie below the surface of this show.
 
“You can’t get lazy when things get crazy,” Motormouth sings in the showstopping finale, “You Can’t Stop the Beat.” “Fighting for equality, for what is right, is the light that will melt the darkness.”
 
Her words were spot on in 1962 and, 64 years later, are sadly even more so today. 

‘Hairspray’ – Directed by Najee A. Brown. Book by Mark O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan. Choreography by Najee A. Brown; Music Direction by Jordan Oczkowski; Music by Marc Shaiman. Lyrics by Scott Wittman and Marc Shaiman. Scenic Design by Cameron McEachern; Lighting Design by SeifAllah Salotto-Cristobal; Sound Design by Alex Berg; Costumes by Emerald City Theatricals. (The run of this show concluded May 17).