Charming, Engaging, and Clever — A.R.T.’s Musical ‘Two Strangers’ Has It All!

Sam Tutty and Christiani Pitts in A.R.T.’s ‘Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York)’.
Photos: Joel Zayac

‘Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York).’ Written by Jim Barne and Kit Buchan. Directed and Choreographed by Tim Jackson. Scenic and Costume Design by Soutra Gilmour; Lighting Design by Jack Knowles; Sound Design by Tony Gayle and Cody Spencer; Orchestrations by Lux Pyramid; Music Direction by Jeffrey Campos. Presented by A.R.T.’s Loeb Drama Center, 64 Brattle St., Cambridge through June 29.

By Shelley A. Sackett

Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York), in its American debut at the American Repertory Theatre,is the perfect antidote to our bleak, cold spring. This sunny, upbeat two-hander musical romantic comedy is as beguiling as it is impeccably acted, directed and produced. In short, it is a full-blown fabulous evening of musical theater at its finest.

Unlike too many musicals these days, Two Strangers has a complicated plot and fetching music with lyrics that are Sondheim-esque in their conversational fluency and relevance. Add to that a smart, slick set (Soutra Gilmour), superb band (Music Direction by Jeffrey Campos), impeccable direction (Tim Jackson) and perfectly matched and equally talented leads (Christiani Pitts and Sam Tutty), and…well…you get the picture.

The premise is worthy of a Meg Ryan-Billy Crystal/Meg Ryan-Tom Hanks blockbuster “meet cute” film. Dougal, an excited and excitable 30-something-year-old Brit, has arrived in New York to attend the Christmastime wedding of the father he has never met. Robin, the 30-something-year-old older sister of the bride, is charged with picking him up at the airport. The two couldn’t possibly be more different.

Dougal (a bouncy, adorable and charismatic Tutty) is a bundle of enthusiastic energy. He’s pumped up to be in New York for the first time (“Are They Ready for Me in New York?” he sings in the opening number, “New York”) and marvels, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, at his first subway ride.

Robin is the jaded and pessimistic foil to Dougal’s blind optimism. A disillusioned New Yorker, working as a barista in a coffee shop and barely making ends meet, she is waiting for something to jump-start her “real” life. Her opening number, “What’ll It Be?” (“Is there something ’round the corner in the distancе? If you’re changing, what’ll it be that makes thе difference? Will you notice, will you feel it? What’ll it be?”) is a lamentation to dreams deferred.

Dougal is in the same boat over the pond (he lives in his mother’s basement and works as an usher at a cinema), but he has the confidence and faith that fate and time are on his side. Robin’s glass is more than half empty; Dougal toasts hers with one that’s more than half full.

Jim Barne and Kit Buchan have crafted lyrics and music that are varied and reflective of both the two characters and the various situations they encounter. Tutty and Pitts have sparkling chemistry, and they are both engagingly agile actors with spot-on timing, inflection, physicality, and dancing and singing gifts. In the magical first act closing number, “American Express,” with its tip of the hat to Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, the two actors really get to strut their stuff. (Kudos to Pitts and Tutty for sharp enunciation and to Tony Gayle and Cody Spencer’s crystal clear sound.)

Gilmour’s set design of stacks of suitcases etched with neon is simple and elegant. It spins throughout the show, underscoring how Robin and Dougal seem to be walking in place while circling each other. Magically, the wardrobes and large suitcases open to a coffee shop, a fleabag hotel, a Chinese restaurant and more. Jack Knowles’ dreamy lighting creates starry skies, dance floors and even a Plaza Hotel suite out of thin air.

The second act is more serious and meatier, as Dougal and Robin begin to open up to each other and provide compassionate reality checks. Robin gets Dougal to acknowledge his daddy fantasies and Dougal eventually succeeds in gaining Robin’s trust. And yes, the two do actually carry a wedding cake across New York.

By the play’s end, it is clear they have had a profound and indelible effect on each other, and that their connection has morphed into more than friendship. To their credit, Barne and Buchan resist the temptation to wrap it all up in a neat, happy rom-com bow, leaving the audience heartful, hopeful and thoroughly charmed.

Highly recommended.

For more information, visit americanrepertorytheater.org

A.R.T.’s ‘The Odyssey’ Catapults Homer’s Ancient Epic Poem into the 21st Century

Posted by Shelley A. Sackett

Members of the cast in A.R.T.’s world-premiere production of *The Odyssey*.
Photo Credits: Nile Scott Studios and Maggie Hall.

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By Shelley A. Sackett

“If you’ve gone through something traumatic, can you ever go back to who you were? Can you ever go back home?” is the essential question American Repertory Theater’s Terrie and Bradley Bloom Artistic Director Diane Paulus asks audience members to consider as they experience the world premiere of Kate Hamill’s A.R.T.-commissioned newest work, ‘The Odyssey.’ This spectacularly produced reimagination of Homer’s 8^th/7^th century B.C. epic poem is the latest retelling of a classic tale by Hamill, who, once again, displays her special talent for penning plays that magically remain true to the original while interweaving parallel contemporary issues, culture and language.

Hamill’s version of The Odyssey evokes both memories of ninth-grade English class and the latest headlines. She is a true master storyteller and alchemist. For three hours (two welcomed intermissions), the audience rides shotgun as she personalizes and contextualizes the Greek epic that follows the hero and king of Ithaca, Odysseus, and his homecoming journey after the ten-year-long Trojan War. During the decades-long trip from Troy to Ithaca, he encounters many perils, and all of his crewmates are killed. During Odysseus’ inexplicably long absence (the distance from Troy to Ithaca is only 565 nautical miles), he is presumed dead, leaving his wife Penelope and son Telemachus to contend with a group of unruly suitors competing for Penelope’s hand in marriage.

Alejandra Escalante, Kate Hamill, NikeImoru and Carr

Homer’s original tale stresses ethical ambiguity and codes of heroic values and displacement. Hamill breathes contemporary life into these themes, adding her own twists that highlight the trauma of war on both those who fight and those they leave at home. Her trademark feminist lens focuses tightly on the play’s many female characters, especially Penelope and her struggles during Odysseus’ 20-year absence.

Sibyl Wickersheimer’s set is magnificent in elegance, simplicity and flexibility. Hundreds of yards of fabric shroud the stage as tasseled drapes hanging from the ceiling, geometric sculptural patterns along the back wall, and flowing, free panels. Shifting lighting and projections (Jeanette Oi-Suk Yew) change their color, mood and function. Cut-out boards and shapes shift function from ship to palace to island. The effect is dreamlike and captivating.

Act I opens on a beach with a chorus of three masked women who approach Odysseus (a credible Wayne T. Carr), as he scrubs his hands in a bowl of water. They act as narrators, dramatically bringing the audience up to speed on Odysseus’ life as king, husband, father and, above all, soldier. They are his guides and will accompany him throughout his travels.

We learn that Odysseus is the only man who has not yet returned to Ithaca from the war in Troy. Shadow puppets (which appear throughout the play in various forms) illustrate his tale. The effect is Shakespearean, the triad reminiscent of the three witches, and Odysseus’ frantic hand-scrubbing is a hat tip to Lady Macbeth’s obsessive hand-washing in her effort to rid herself of feelings of shame and guilt.

“Your hands are clean,” the women croon, but Odysseus only revs up the pace in response.

In a flash, the language shifts from classical to contemporary vernacular and the beached ship morphs into a disco-like scene, complete with music, sexual innuendos and lots of swearing. We are in Ithaca, where Queen Penelope’s home has been besieged by rough-neck “suitors” intent on becoming the next king.

Flash again, and we are back with Odysseus, docked on an island inhabited by Titans. He and his men encounter the Cyclops, Polyphemus, when they search for food in a cave. Clever staging simultaneously evokes the giant and the cave through projections, puppetry and shadows. The three women (who also play different supporting characters in each scene) are charming as the mouth-watering lambs the men follow into the cave.

Act II is devoted to the cunning sea-witch goddess, Circe (played with impeccable timing, intonation and physicality by a scene-stealing Kate Hamill), and her island Aeaea, where Odysseus and his men almost meet their match. Circe agrees to let the men live if Odysseus stays with her. Finally, he snaps out of his drugged state of no man’s land when one of his men reminds him that, painful as it might be, he needs to confront himself, deal with his sins and pain, and return to his family.

“You can’t forget everything, or you forget what’s worth living for. Don’t you want to go home?” he is asked.

Meanwhile, back in Ithaca, Penelope’s (lithe and elegant Andrus Nichols) outer resolve begins to falter as Amphinomus (Keshav Moodliar) begins to chip away at it with seductive, honey-tongued persistence. The deliciously hung fabric is an exquisite setting in pastel hues of mauve and pink. Penelope admits she is tired of being afraid and alone. “I am worn out by memories,” she says. “I’m not free to choose, but I can touch.”

Act III is the longest and most lively, as Odysseus makes his way home (after a couple more stops) and eventually wins back his throne and family. There are bloody battles, disco galore and plenty of irreverent language. The play may be long, but the pace and production values keep it rolling and engaging.

Director Shana Cooper has an excellent ensemble assembled, and her pacing, transitions and seamless blocking are all spot-on. Hamill’s script, as always, is a mashup of the classic and contemporary, fiercely loyal to the underlying ancient tale, yet spinning an exciting, smart and thought-provoking contemporary cocoon around it. The result is an adaptation that is accessible to all and explores big-ticket concepts.

What are the relationships between trauma, memory and violence, for example? Who are our heroes and what are their values? In this era of migration and displacement physically, emotionally and politically, what does “home” mean and how secure is it?

Hamill’s works are always something to look forward to. The curtain call at ‘The Odyssey’ left me eager to see what she will tackle next.

The Odyssey’ – Written by Kate Hamill. Based on the epic poem by Homer. Scenic Design by Sibyl Wickersheimer; Costume Design by An-Lin Dauber; Lighting Design and Projection Design by Jeanette Oi-Suk Yew; Sound Design and Music Composition by Paul James Prendergast. Presented by American Repertory Theater at Loeb Drama Center, 64 Brattle St., Cambridge, MA, through March 16.

A Theatrical Alchemy, A.R.T.’s ‘Diary of a Tap Dancer’ Is More Than the Sum of Its Parts

Posted by Shelley A. Sackett

Ayodele Casel (center) and the cast of A.R.T.s ‘Diary of a Tap Dancer.’
Photos: Nile Scott Studios and Maggie Hall

By Shelley A. Sackett

Ayodele Casel’s ‘Diary of a Tap Dancer’ defies pigeonholing. First, it is a crackerjack tap dance concert, choreographed and performed by a jubilant devotée of the genre whose sensitivity to its rhythmic musicality keeps the action moving and the audience’s toes tapping along.

Second, it is a narrative documentary that “shines a light on women hoofers,” especially the unknown and forgotten black tap dancers of the 1920s through the ‘50s who blazed a trail for others, like Casel, to follow. Projection Designer Katherine Freer has curated a six-screen still and moving visual accompaniment that introduces us to all the dancers who might have been written out of history — women like Juanita Pitts, Jeni Le Gon, Cora LaRedd, Louise Madison and Marion Coles — but for her efforts to draw attention to them.

“I have an intense need, desire and responsibility to speak their names,” Casel, the self-proclaimed sepia Cinderella of tap, shares. “They were entrepreneurs, choreographers and dancers. Our time on earth matters. Don’t wait for an invitation to tell your story.”

Additionally, Casel’s ‘Diary of a Tap Dancer’ is just that- an oral diary that tells, in upbeat, humorous and, at times, painfully repetitive detail, the story of her life.

Born in the Bronx to a Puerto Rican mother and African American father (whom she didn’t meet until she was 17 years old), she was sent as a child to live with her Puerto Rican grandparents, where she honed her scrappy spirit by getting into fist fights with boys. When she returned to the Bronx, she and her mother watched old movies and read movie magazines, falling for the glamor and magic of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. She discovered the world of tap during a high school class in movie history. Later, as an NYU theater major, she took her first tap class, showing up with shoes from “Payless” that were as close to Rogers’ as she could find.

“Tap is magic,” Casel says. “It changed my life.”

Her single-minded persistence landed her a spot as the first woman in Savion Glover’s (of mid-90s off-Broadway hit, “Bring in ‘da Noise, Bring in ‘da Funk,” fame) dance company, a real turning point in her career. Tap legend Gregory Hines has referred to her as “one of the top young tap dancers in the world.”

When it comes to paving the way for other marginalized dancers, Casel doesn’t just talk the talk; she also walks the walk (taps the tap?) by sharing the stage and spotlight with seven female and nonbinary young dancers who both complement each other as an ensemble and shine as soloists. But the spritely, charismatic, and extraordinarily talented Casel can’t help but steal every scene with the simplest flap-ball-change. Who knew tap could be so orchestral and communicative?

Under Torya Beard’s (Casel’s longtime collaborator and wife) direction, the atmosphere is set even before the show starts with an almost holy ambient organ major harmonic dyad punctuated by muted city traffic, sirens, and birds. A simple blue set sports what looks like graffiti but is actually a photograph of 18th-century legislation forbidding slaves from owning drums.

A slow spotlight reveals white-clad dancers using every inch of Tatiana Kahvegian’s sparse but effective stage. Dancers are scattered in little solo spaces reminiscent of the staging of “The Lion King.” When the soundtrack kicks in and they all start tapping, it’s like a magical sound bath of rhythm and movement.

Backed by a terrific trio of on-stage musicians (Carlos Cippelletti on piano, Raul Reyes Bueno on bass and Keisel Jiménez Leyva on drums), the musical dance numbers are a pure delight. Casel tells her intimate and powerful story through straight narration, rap, beat and counter-beat. Her acting chops show in the comfort with which she addresses the audience. It’s no surprise to learn that “Ayodele” is Yoruban for “joy.” Casel is not just a top-notch dancer and choreographer; she is genuinely warm, funny, smart, guileless, and humble. She is also an articulate, eloquent, and bold guide who unlocks the enchantment and triumph of the human spirit that is the essence of tap.

The problem (at least at last Sunday’s world premiere production, which ran 30 minutes beyond the show’s already overly generous 2 hours with one intermission) is that Casel has a lot to say about a lot of topics about which she is understandably passionate. “This show is narrative justice,” she explains.

But by trying to tackle such big-ticket items as racism, sexism, African American history, misogyny, and historical exclusion, instead of leaving her audience feeling enlightened and informed, she leaves them wishing for more dance and less talk. A LOT less talk.

While Casel is an excellent and engaging narrator, it is the magic language of her syncopated footwork and vocal scat work that offer a more compelling and emotionally accessible (and less preachy) tribute to the art form of tap and the black foremothers she seeks to honor. A little editing could go a long way.

‘Diary of a Tap Dancer’ – Written and Choreographed by Ayodele Casel. Directed by Torya Beard. Musical Direction by Nick Wilders; Scenic Design by Tatiana Kahvegian; Costume Design by Camilla Dely; Lighting Design by Brandon Stirling Baker; Sound Design by Sharath Patel; Projection Design by Katherine Freer; Compositions, Orchestrations, and Arrangements by Carlos Cippelletti, Ethan D. Packchar. Presented by American Repertory Theater at the Loeb Drama Center, 64 Brattle St., Cambridge, through January 4, 2025.

For tickets and information, go to: https://americanrepertorytheater.org/shows-events/diary-of-a-tap-dancer/

A.R.T.’s Innovative “Romeo and Juliet” Elevates and Grounds Shakespeare’s Masterpiece

Posted by Shelley A. Sackett

Emilia Suárez (Juliet) and Rudy Pankow (Romeo) in A.R.T.’s Romeo and Juliet.
Photo Credits: Nile Scott Studios and Maggie Hall

By Shelley A. Sackett

Diane Paulus, Artistic Director at American Repertory Theater, has raised the bar on production values so often, we’ve come to expect the unexpected from her. From 1776 to Pippin to Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess, Gloria: A Life, Jagged Little Pill, Waitress, SIX, and more, theatergoers in Boston have benefitted from her inspiring collaborations and razor-sharp skills to enjoy Broadway-bound productions right in their own backyard.

Romeo and Juliet is no exception.

Working with a creative team of stellar talent, Paulus has breathed contemporary life into Shakespeare’s 16th-century well-known and oft-quoted masterpiece.

The tragic story is a familiar tale of star-crossed lovers caught in the crosshairs of a family feud so old that its origins have faded from memory. Paulus said she wanted to focus on the couple’s feelings for each other and highlight their love instead of their families’ hate. By using movement, evocative music, lighting, and a spectacularly efficient set, she creates the perfect stage upon which such a transformation can — and does — happen.

As with all Shakespeare (and especially in productions where there are no projected captions to serve as guides), a plot primer can be helpful.

Juliet Capulet (Emilia Suárez of Hulu’s Up Here fame) and Romeo Montague (Rudy Pankow of Netflix’s Outer Banks) meet and fall instantly in love at a masked ball hosted by Juliet’s parents. They profess their devotion when Romeo, unwilling to leave, climbs the wall into the orchard garden of her family’s house and finds her alone at her window. Because their well-to-do families are enemies, the two are married secretly by Friar Lawrence (the fabulous Tony Award winner and multiple nominee, Terrence Mann).

When Tybalt (Alex Ross), a Capulet, seeks out Romeo in revenge for the insult of Romeo’s having dared to shower his attentions on Juliet, an ensuing scuffle ends in the death of Romeo’s dearest friend, Mercutio (Clay Singer). Impelled by a code of honor among men, Romeo kills Tybalt and is banished to Mantua by the Prince of Verona (Jason Bowen), who has been insistent that the family feuding cease.

Juliet’s father (Terence Archie), unaware that Juliet is already secretly married, arranges a marriage with the eminently eligible Count Paris (Adi Dixit). The young bride seeks out Friar Laurence for assistance in her desperate situation. He gives her a potion that will make her appear to be dead and assures her that if she takes it, he will arrange for Romeo to rescue her. She complies.

Romeo, uninformed of the friar’s scheme because a letter of explanation has failed to reach him, returns to Verona on hearing of Juliet’s apparent death. He encounters a grieving Paris at Juliet’s tomb, and reluctantly kills him when Paris attempts to prevent him from entering. There, he finds Juliet in the burial vault. Unaware that she is only sleeping, he gives her a last kiss and kills himself with poison. Juliet awakens, sees the dead Romeo, and kills herself. The families learn what has happened and end their feud.

At Wednesday’s preview performance, magic and pathos were on stage from the opening scene that revealed Amy Rubin’s simple, thick butcher block set bathed in spot-on, evocative lighting (Jen Schriever). Actors push the heavy door open, symbolically revealing the opportunity for closed doors to open. Later, the flexible set will metamorphosize into Juliet’s balcony, a tomb and a party. All of that possibility is communicated in the first few moments.

Background rumbling and emergent music (created by sound designer Daniel Lundberg and the composer of the play’s original music, Alexandre Dai Castaing) set the tone for the opening fight scene, a West Side Story-esque stand-off between two teenage gangs. These are the Capulet and Montague clans, and the fury that boils in their blood is masterfully choreographed by fight consultant Thomas Schall and director/choreographer Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui. When the scene freezes into a bellicose tableau, the depth underlying this hostility is fixed on each light-bathed face. (Note: West Side Story is a modern adaptation of Romeo and Juliet that shares many themes and tells a similar story but is set in the 1950s in New York City’s Upper West Side).

The impacts of visual imagery, light and sound throughout the two and one half hour (one intermission) production never wane. Rubin’s set frequently pivots to frame two or three scenes, providing simultaneous glimpses of different versions of the same event. Early on, as Romeo and Juliet prepare for the party her parents are throwing, Romeo and his buddies cavort stage left while Juliet preens stage right. The effect is as charming as it is enthralling.

Other special production moments are the use of globe lights (brilliant!), a warpath drumbeat soundtrack (by Dai Castaing), and the opening scene after intermission, when Juliet, wrapped in a white sheet, is lit like a fairy and the soft plunk of a harp highlight her delicate dancer’s gestures.

While enough can’t be written in praise of its production value, the real stars of Romeo and Juliet are the actors and the Bard’s sumptuous language. Cast standouts include Suárez as a stunningly lithesome Juliet, Nicole Villamil as Lady Capulet, Juliet’s mother, and the truly awesome Mann as Friar Laurence.

These three (and several other) actors seem to savor the play’s rich lines, lingering over some and articulating with a deliberateness that allows the audience to savor along with them. Unfortunately, some (most notably Singer as Mercutio) race through their lines, swallowing some of the glorious puns and humor that balance the play’s tragic overtones. A suggestion to A.R.T. is to consider following Shakespeare on the Common’s lead and provide projected captions. Absent that, audiences might want to read the play (it’s a short-ish one!) before or shortly after seeing this production. The added appreciation value is well worth the time spent.

Paulus ends the play on a note of hope despite the carnage that the Verona families’ feud has wrought. As Romeo, Juliet, Thibault, and Mercutio are eulogized and buried, the full cast is on stage. Bright white light bathes the scene as the entire community comes together to bury their dead and plant a garden. Despite the gloomy peace that reigns, the Prince of Verona reminds its citizens, “All are punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and Romeo.”

As Capulets and Montagues sow flowers and trees, we imagine Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden and the innocence and hope of starting fresh and turning the page. In the current climate of political and environmental angst, who can’t benefit from a message that hints at the possibility of restoration, revitalization, and rebirth?

Romeo and Juliet’ – By William Shakespeare. Directed by Diane Paulus. Movement and Choreography by Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui; Original Music Composed by Alexandre Dai Castaing; Scenic Design by Amy Rubin; Costume Design by Emilio Sosa; Lighting Design by Jen Schriever; Sound Design by Daniel Lundberg. Presented by American Repertory Theater at the Loeb Drama Center, 64 Brattle St., Cambridge through October 6.

For more information and to buy tickets, go to https://americanrepertorytheater.org/

A.R.T.’s “Gatsby” Is This Summer’s Blockbuster

Posted by Shelley A. Sackett

Cory Jeacoma, Solea Pfeiffer, and the cast of A.R.T.’s ‘Gatsby.’
Photo Credits: Julieta Cervantes

“Gatsby.” Book by Martyna Majok based on the novel, “The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Directed by Rachel Chavkin. Music by Florence Welch and Thomas Bartlett. Lyrics by Florence Welch. Choreography by Sonya Tayeh. Orchestration and Arrangements by Thomas Barlett. Scenic Design by Mimi Lien. Lighting Design by Alan C. Edwards. Presented by American Repertory Theater at the Loeb Drama Center, 64 Brattle St., Cambridge, through August 3.

By Shelley A. Sackett

“Gatsby” is a tour-de-force chockful of bells and whistles. A.R.T. spares nothing for its world premiere of the musical adaptation of Fitzgerald’s Jazz Age chronicle. Two colossal heaps of metallic sculpture reminiscent of the infernal “Hadestown” underworld are a Jenga/“Where’s Waldo” of identifiable automobile parts and crumpled rubble (set by Mimi Lien). Draped in gleaming tinsel and expertly lighted by Alan C. Edwards, these gloomy twin towers are a continual reminder of the dangers of decadence and the debris it leaves in its wake.

Like “Moby Dick” and other inventive re-tellings of familiar tales, it’s clear from the get-go that A.R.T. will once again raise the bar on production values.

In preparation for seeing “Gatsby,” I reread the novel both to refresh my 9th-grade memory and to better understand where (and guess why) Martyna Majok had chosen to be faithful to and stray from the original in her adaptation. While hardly necessary – the storyline is short on subtlety – it was fun when I recognized a line that had struck us both as particularly poignant.

At its heart, however, this “Gatsby” is a musical, and the tale is told through its 25 musical numbers. (Unfortunately, the 13-piece orchestra often drowns out those lyrics, leaving the frustrated audience to fill in the blanks). In the exciting first number, “Welcome to the New World,” we meet our narrator, Nick Carraway (Ben Levi Ross), who fills us in on time, place, and tenor. It’s 1922, and the influenza plague and World War I, although in the rearview mirror, left emotional, physical, and financial wreckage in its wake. As if awakening from a nightmare, Jazz Age America has emerged, revving its engine and ready to roar.

Underscoring the headiness of the era, the 15-member ensemble bursts on the stage clad in flapper period and contemporary non-cis costumes. Costume designer Sandy Powell cleverly introduces us to the main characters by dressing them symbolically. George and Myrtle, the have-not couple, are dressed in hellish red. Daisy, Tom and their friend Jordan, the silver-spoon gentry, wear heavenly white. And Jay Gatsby, our eponymous protagonist, appropriately wears an in-between pink.

As the plot unfolds, so do these characters’ backstories. Each harbors longings, secrets and disappointments that propel them towards disaster while attracting and repulsing them to and from each other. Majok exercises editorial discretion (and keen perception) in adding a richly nuanced focus on these relationships that are lacking in Fitzgerald’s novel.

Nick is just back from the war. While he presents as the affable, “aw shucks” mid-Westerner, his baggage includes heavy loads of PTSD and grief. He has sought the diversion of Long Island high society and the company of his cousin Daisy to reset the trajectory of his life. He rents a cottage for the summer and is immediately invited to join the Fellini-esque world of ultra-rich navel-gazers.

Daisy (Charlotte MacInnes), a former Louisville belle, is married to scion Tom Buchanan (Cory Jeacoma) and lives in a fairytale mansion with her loutish, philandering husband. She and Gatsby had met and fallen in love years ago, right before he was shipped off to war. Her childhood friend and famous golf pro, Jordan Baker (Eleri Ward), provides the stability and affection so sorely lacking in her marriage. She is also the play’s flapper Pied Piper, flamboyantly hedonistic and desperate for everyone to follow her reckless lead.

Tom is as spoiled and obnoxious as they come. He wears his entitlement as a badge of honor, helping himself to whatever suits his fleeting fancy, including Myrtle Wilson (Solea Pfeiffer), the blue-collar wife of a gas station owner who yearns for the sparkling trinkets Tom dangles before her. Her voracious appetite for excess and risk are sated in the short run, but the long-term damage is one of the play’s underlying themes.

George Wilson (Matthew Amira), Myrtle’s husband, is outnumbered and outmaneuvered. Honest, hard-working, decent, and loyal, he doesn’t stand a chance.

This brings us to Jay Gatsby (Isaac Powell), the mysterious epicenter of the action who throws parties reminiscent of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Personifying a corrupted version of the “American Dream” where wealth is the sole solution to all of life’s challenges, his obsession with Daisy and maniacally detailed plan to win her back are the ill-fated coattails onto which every other character’s fate hangs.

To her great credit, playwright Majok has managed to both plumb the intricacies of these individuals and their various romantic liaisons and dalliances and create a rip-roaringly entertaining almost-three-hour evening of outstanding song and dance.

Under Rachel Chavkin’s talented direction, the cast hits that sweet spot between virtuoso solo and ensemble performances. There are ample opportunities for each to shine in words, song, and dance. MacInnis brings a needed self-awareness to Daisy, who could easily become a cardboard character. She is as disconsolate a victim in “I’ve Changed My Mind” as she is scheming perpetrator in the duet with Tom in “The Damage That You Do.” Both feature her amazing voice.

As Jordan, Ward adds a sophisticated cynicism and “been there, done that” breeziness to the unbridled frenzy that surrounds the other characters. Willowy and lithe, she is a pleasure to watch as she glides around the cabaret party settings.

Jeacoma (Tom), Powell (Gatsby), and Amira (Wilson) stay in character in less shaded roles. Ross brings a slightly tinted palette to Nick, making him more mysterious and less pathetic than he at times seemed in the novel.

It is Pfeiffer as Myrtle and Adam Grupper as Meyer Wolfsheim, Gatsby’s mentor and syndicate boss, who really stand out. In addition to her outstanding voice, Pfeiffer easily transitions between the grief, rage, and despair she feels in her trapped marriage to a gas jockey and the giddiness of being wildly out of control in the sybaritic world to which Tom gives her the key. I only wish the orchestra didn’t drown out half of her songs.

Grupper, a Sydney Greenstreet of a presence, could not be drowned out by a 20-piece brass band (thank goodness). “Feels Like Hell,” his solo, brings down the house.

Lien’s flexible set is a presence of its own. Spanning the entire proscenium, the wide staircase, balcony, and stage allow three small scenes to play simultaneously, adding interest and challenge. And last but hardly least, Welch’s music and lyrics turn Fitzgerald’s 200-page novel into an operatic dramatic feast. While there are no tunes that stick in your head after the curtain falls, the actors’ universally extraordinary voices and Welch’s spot-on lyrics (when we can hear them) are the backbone of this summer extravaganza.

For more information and to buy tickets, visit: https://americanrepertorytheater.org/

P. Carl Invites the Audience on His Gender Transition Journey in the A.R.T.’s ‘Becoming a Man’

Posted by Shelley A. Sackett

Stacey Raymond, Petey Gibson in A.R.T.’s ‘Becoming a Man’
Photos by Nile Scott Studios and Maggie Hall

‘

By Shelley A. Sackett

P. Carl, an acclaimed educator, dramaturg, and writer, lived for 49 years as Polly, a woman who believed she had been born into the wrong body. The last 20 years were spent as a lesbian in a queer marriage to Lynette D’Amico, a writer and editor. Lynette had no idea the queer woman who was her wife suffered gender dysphoria, a condition that can — and in Polly’s case, did — lead to depression and anxiety and have a harmful impact on daily life.

So when, at age 50 and against the backdrop of America’s changing LGBTQ+ political and cultural backdrop, Polly decided to undergo gender transition and become Carl, it came as quite a surprise.

In 2020, P. Carl published a memoir, “Becoming A Man,” that detailed his life before, during, and after his transition, sharing details of what it was like to grow up in the Midwest as a girl, become a queer wife and successful career woman, and then transition to life as a man at the height of the Trump era.

A.R.T. Artistic Director Diane Paulus had read an early draft of the book and thought it would translate well as a play. P. Carl agreed. A commission of this new work for the A.R.T. and a several-years-long developmental process resulted in the dramatic version of “Becoming a Man,” in its world premiere production at Loeb Drama Center through March 10.

Act II, a facilitated conversation with the audience about the play and its themes, immediately follows the play. Facilitators are chosen from a roster of local leaders, artists, or medical professionals, and activists who explore the production’s essential question, “When we change, can the people we love come with us?”

“Becoming a Man” functions largely as a non-linear narrative of P. Carl’s journey and female-to-male transition from Polly Carl to Carl. It opens with a bearded Carl (Petey Gibson) catapulting onto a minimalist stage, declaring that his decision to transition from female to male was the best move of his 50-year-old life.

“The world shifted,” he explains. “I finally learned to swim,” a metaphor that pops up frequently for the euphoric freedom of finally feeling comfortable enough in one’s own skin to risk exposing it to others in very public places.

Carl also admits that now he is a man, he has become a bit of an uber-male. He enjoys men-only spaces, like sports bars, where he yells at the television and refers to his wife as the little woman. He hires a personal trainer and practically swoons in the men’s locker room. He even develops a sneaker fetish.

He also is clueless and blindsided when his lesbian wife Lynette (Elena Hurst) doesn’t react to his transition as the enthusiastic cheerleader he had assumed she would be. Myopic and self-reflective and -involved to a fault, Carl honestly doesn’t get it that Lynette could be traumatized by her female wife becoming a male and by hearing that during the entirety of their marriage, that wife felt like she was living in a body that was a lie.

Lynette, after all, fell in love with Polly and embraced their female queer personal and political status. She liked every aspect of being in a female-female marriage. Suddenly, to remain married to the person she loves, she has to do a 180 and adjust to the new reality that they will now present to the world as any other conventional heterosexual couple.

“What’s my part in your new life?” she asks. “I don’t know who you are. You obliterated my past,” she says, adding for emphasis, “I did not accidentally omit men from my life.”

“Transitioning for me was a breeze,” Carl says blithely. “She’s grieving and I’m celebrating.”

To his great credit and the audience’s edification and enjoyment, Carl presents his personal story in an honest, no-holds-barred way that is deeply touching in the level of trust and introspection it shares.

His pre-transition self, Polly (Stacey Raymond), is her own character, often shadowing Carl and reminding him of who he was as he navigates who he is. The moments when Polly, horrified by Carl’s macho behavior, scolds him are among the play’s best.

Raised in Elkhart, Indiana by an abusive father (Christopher Liam Moore) and loving but passive mother (Susan Rome), Polly is proof that the internal pain and trauma of a childhood spent in a small-minded Midwestern town as a girl feeling like she was a guy who was attracted to girls is as difficult to shed as the external signs of gender assignment.

Polly’s difficult relationship with her family is no less difficult as Carl, and the scenes when both visit their father in his waning years spotlight the point that inside, Carl really is also Polly, with all her assets and all her baggage.

“Becoming a Man” tries to cover a LOT of ground (to varying degrees of success), including friendship, gender, power, sexual identity, and inequality in America. Perhaps the most interesting and poignant topic is how the person who transitions and those with whom they shared relationships deal with all the memories and experiences that happened during pre-transition life.

Ironically, it’s the two women in Carl’s life who remind him that his actions have consequences that extend beyond his body.

“You don’t get to choose what to remember and what to forget,” Polly chides Carl. “I don’t know what to do with our history,” adds Lynette.

Becoming A Man’ — Written by P. Carl. Co-directed by Dianne Paulus and P. Carl. Scenic Design by Emmie Finckel; Costume Design by Qween Jean; Lighting Design by Cha See; Music and Sound Design by Paul James Prendergast; Video Design by Brittany Bland. Presented by the A.R.T. at the Loeb Drama Center, 64 Brattle St., through March 10.

For tickets go to https://americanrepertorytheater.org/

A.R.T.’s Spectacular ‘Evita’ Raises the Bar on the Term, “Production Values”

Posted by Shelley A. Sackett

Shereen Pimentel (Eva) in ***Evita*** at American Repertory Theater. Photo Credits: Emilio Madrid.

by Shelley A. Sackett

A cross between an iron maiden and a fairy princess gown, the replica of Eva Peron’s famous Dior strapless gown hangs suspended over a neon-framed stage. Like a mummified 3-dimensional diorama, the white bejeweled dress takes on a life of its own, its bodice both unsettling and beckoning, warning the audience: look but do not touch.

This riveting image, with its promise of an evening of highly stylized art and mixed messages, is the perfect introduction to the spectacularly staged ‘Evita’ now at the A.R.T.’s Loeb theater. Its production values — from exquisite costumes, choreography, scenic design, and lighting to orchestration and cast talent — can’t be overpraised. The most striking evening of theater to hit Boston stages in a while is, luckily and uncharacteristically, in town for a good, long run (through July 30), so there is plenty of time to snag a ticket and enjoy.

When the scrim lifts and the real show begins, the visuals only get better. A backdrop of silhouetted men and women in gorgeous haute couture hats and heels suddenly breaks into song and dance, like a painting come to life. Cinematic and magical, the effect is thrilling.

Told in vignettes, the storyline is anchored by Eva Duarte Perón and her rise from poverty in rural Argentina to reigning first lady and beloved titular patron saint. Eva’s journey is complicated and full of contradictions. While shamelessly sleeping her way to the top and ruthlessly trampling anyone who gets in her way, she also champions the poor, the disenfranchised, and the everyday working class. Voracious in her personal ambition and an original “mean girl,” she also cares deeply for her beloved country and its people.

Critical observer and cynic Che (the standout Omar Lopez-Cepero) narrates this legend, filling in the fairytale with unflattering morsels of on-the-ground reporting. In his opposing version, Eva’s deceitfulness and egomaniacal greed overshadow her legacy of charisma and beneficence.

Shereen Pimental soars as the larger-than-life Eva, transfixing the audience with her vocal range and regal presence. She commands attention every moment she is on stage, whether as a naïve 15-year-old in search of an acting breakthrough or the haughty, bejeweled dictator of fashion bullying all who don’t kowtow to her. We may feel ambivalent about her, but we can’t take our eyes off her either.

Under Sammi Cannold’s savvy direction, Emily Maltby and Valeria Solomonoff’s sassy, authentic tango choreography, and the exceptional performances by Pimentel and Lopez-Cepero, it’s almost possible to overlook the major drawback of the evening — namely, the play itself, which is more disjointed abstraction than linear storytelling. Spawned from a 1976 concept album by composer Andrew Lloyd Webber and lyricist Time Rice, the musical is short on character development and plot and long on untuneful, long-winded operatic numbers (many overamplified and difficult to decipher). Other than “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina,” the songs blend, leaving behind no choral snippets that loop in one’s memory banks after the show’s end. Yet “Evita” is not meant to be about traditional dramaturgy. Like its namesake, it is about splash and sparkle and smoke and mirrors, and from the moment the audience lays eyes on the suspended disembodied gown until the orchestra sounds its final note, A.R.T.’s production is an unapologetic feast for all the senses. Highly recommended for anyone looking for an evening of pure epic entertainment.

Lyrics by Tim Rice. Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Directed by Sammi Cannold. Choreography by Emily Maltby, Valeria Solomonoff; Music Direction by Mona Seyed-Bolorforosh; Scenic Design by Jason Sherwood; Costume Design by Bradley King; Lighting Design by Bradley King. Presented by the American Repertory Theater in Association with Shakespeare Theatre Company at the Loeb Drama Center, 64 Brattle St., Cambridge through July 30.

For information and tickets, go to: https://americanrepertorytheater.org/

InSights

A Blog by Shelley A. Sackett

A.R.T.

Charming, Engaging, and Clever — A.R.T.’s Musical ‘Two Strangers’ Has It All!

A.R.T.’s ‘The Odyssey’ Catapults Homer’s Ancient Epic Poem into the 21st Century

A Theatrical Alchemy, A.R.T.’s ‘Diary of a Tap Dancer’ Is More Than the Sum of Its Parts

A.R.T.’s Innovative “Romeo and Juliet” Elevates and Grounds Shakespeare’s Masterpiece

A.R.T.’s “Gatsby” Is This Summer’s Blockbuster

P. Carl Invites the Audience on His Gender Transition Journey in the A.R.T.’s ‘Becoming a Man’

A.R.T.’s Spectacular ‘Evita’ Raises the Bar on the Term, “Production Values”