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Jeffrey R. Smith

THE MOTHER F _ _ _ _ _ WITH THE HAT

By Jeffrey R. Smith

THE MOTHER F _ _ _ _ _ WITH THE HAT

 Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle

 Now through March 16th, the San Francisco Playhouse is performing THE MOTHER F _ _ _ _ _ WITH THE HAT by Stephen Adly Guirgis.

 If theatre was invented, as Artistic Director Bill English avers, “to fulfill a spiritual purpose in our lives,” then this play reaches a close approximation of that raison d’être.

 The characters in the play are not the kinds of people who are likely to attend a performance of THE MOTHER … , they are not likely to be people you would strike up a conversation with on BART, well Veronica yes, but for all the wrong reasons.

 The show is a high octane blend of volatility: part mystery—whose hat is it?—part comedy and part dysfunctional love story.

 Jackie who discovers the hat in his girlfriend’s apartment—played by one of the finest actors in the Bay Area: Gabriel Marin—is likely to be the rantipole carrying on a heated conversation with himself on the subway; if you accidently sat next to Jackie, you would relocate to another seat, another car or possibly exit the train and wait for the next one.

 Profanity rolls off Jackie’s tongue like it did for Pacino in SCARFACE.

 Jackie—much to Marin’s superb acting credit—speaks a staccato Bronx dialect at a rate just a notch below the red line on your audio processing speed; were the entire cast to speak as rapid fire as Jackie, the show would be compressed to a half hour.

 If Jackie is the explosive, then Veronica—played by Isabelle Ortega with self-absorbed detachment and sizzling eroticism—is the both Chiquita who lights the fuse and the detonator.

 As the Jungians remind us, when the psyche is not well, it does not call in a psychotherapist, it invites a Joker into our lives; a Joker who resonates with us and one which has the power to torment us, lancing our psychic carbuncles and reopening scars.

 Veronica is that Joker; a masterful manipulator, operating on a low budget, giving everyone what they want while extracting everything she needs via an invisible symbiosis.

 Veronica is pure contractualism dressed up as intimacy and sensuality; you might let her into your life but you will never get her out of your mind.

 Cousin Julio—played delightfully by Rudy Guerrero—is the rose in Spanish Harlem: sharp, savvy, cool, hip, funny, sensitive, buff and faithfully connected at the familial root with Jackie; he puts leavening and light into the show.

 A set design by Bill English and Matt Vuolo looks like it was ripped from the hood; somewhere north of 125 Street.

 High Speed Rail might never get to California but THE MOTHER F _ _ _ _ _ WITH THE HAT … has already pulled into the station; it is a bullet train that rips through the evening air, powered by a high tension plot line and an energized cast.

 This is high speed entertainment; the seats should have shoulder harnesses.

 For tickets, contact the Box Office at SFPLAYHOUSE.ORG or 415.667.9596.

PRIDE & PREJUDICE

By Jeffrey R. Smith

PRIDE & PREJUDICE

Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle

The Encinal Drama Department, never one to back away from a challenge, has successfully taken on Jane Austen’s PRIDE & PREJUDICE.

In a theatrical context, there exists a continuum of risk taking ranging from informed confidence, to ungrounded hubris and on to reckless abandon.

Director Gene Kahane may have hugged the shore of hubris on this one, but at the same time he signaled his unflagging trust and confidence in the cast and crew.

As they set sail across the proscenium, he obviously set the yardarm high, proclaiming that success would be their only port of call.

Imagine the odds of an amateur production company taking on a major opus—which required five hour-long episodes when performed for public television—and compressing it into a two act play that would not exceed the attention span of a high school audience nor be reduced to a dramatic narrative.

An adequate plot synopsis of the play alone is over 1200 words, and such a summary is so skeletal that it provides for little character development.

As is a director’s prerogative, MR Kahane rightfully pared the script down to the essentials, leaving enough meat on the bones so that his earnest troupe had plenty of opportunity to showcase their thespian talents.

As the curtain rises . . . wait . . . what curtain?

The set design was so expansively spacious—yet intimate with the audience—that the need for a curtain was obviated.

As the Klieg Lights came up, we were greeted by the tempered strains of violin music provided by Marquise Robinson, first violin and concert master of the Encinal Drama Department.

What? Is this FIDDLER ON THE ROOF?

By coincidence the play parallels TEVYE THE DAIRYMAN by Sholem Aleichem.

In Aleichem’s tale, Tevye, the father is trying to marry his daughters into advantaged positions within Anatevka; in Austen’s book it is the over-reaching, meddling, manipulating mother—MRS Bennet—who is the match-maker of Longbourn.

Just as our planet has two poles, the true north pole and the magnetic north pole, so too does this excellent production.

One pole, consistent with Jane Austin’s original intent, is Elizabeth Bennet, perhaps the true pole.

Elizabeth is the protagonist, the second eldest of the Bennet brood; twenty years old, with character, confidence, intelligence and willfulness cantilevered well beyond her easily measured years.

But alas Lizzy is saddled with the proclivity to judge on first impression.

She reinforces her opinions, engaging in confirmational psychology, sifting through a conflicting body of evidence discarding all that argues against her conceits and embracing all that supports her predilections.

Hence Elizabeth single handedly accounts for the “prejudice” of the title.

Kinga Vasicek is simply stunning as Elizabeth Bennet.

Like an overzealous district attorney she argues with biased passion, unsubstantiated conviction, blanket condemnation and compulsion.

When she finishes dressing down Mister Darcy, the jury i.e. the audience is ready to drag Darcy to either the pillory, the confession booth or to the scaffold.

Miss Kinga’s persuasive and powerfully delivered misguided indictments are augmented by her stern and roiled countenance; one wonders how does she get her face to flush and the veins to standout on her temples when expresses stage anger and mock ire?

Miss Kinga’s role as Elizabeth afforded her opportunities to square off with, dress-down and dismantle nearly every character in the play; by the final curtain the audience is convinced that Miss Kinga’s next stop should be Berkeley’s Boalt Hall.

One also wonders if the character Miss Kinga unleashes could ever be able to shelve her contentiousness for the sake of a domestic tranquility with Mister Darcy.

In the absence of an epilogue, we will never know the answer.

The other pole, perhaps the magnetic pole—although to set the record straight, no one is confirming nor denying allegations of up-staging—is the tremendous performance of Tina Burgdorf as Mrs. Bennet.

Miss Burgdorf’s character—perhaps based loosely on Austen’s Mrs. Bennet—is absolutely a riot; every development in the Bennet family fortunes becomes a melodrama catapulting Burgdorf’s Mrs. Bennet on a soaring, hyperbolic emotional arc.

True Austen’s matriarchal Mrs. Bennet is frivolous, excitable and narrow-minded, and her manners and unbridled social climbing are an embarrassment to Jane and Elizabeth but Burgdorf exaggerates these minor character flaws into hilarious parodies reminiscent of Saturday Night Live comedy sketches.

As the stage adage has it, “there are no small roles in theatre.”

Great acting and a willingness to run with a character—indeed hijack a character—succeeded in inflating Miss Burgdorf’s Mrs. Bennet into a Macy’s Parade Float; she elevated a romantic gothic novel into highly enjoyable modern entertainment.

Almost as ballast for the unmoored Mrs. Bennet, Zachary Bailey plays Mr. Bennet; a character described as a patriarchal gentleman commanding a sarcastic and cynical sense of humor that he uses to irritate and neutralize his wife.

Given our Mrs. Bennet, can we fault Mr. Bennet if he prefers to withdraw from the never-ending marriage concerns of the women around him rather than offer up constructive help?

True to his character, Zachary delivers his well measured lines with low modulation and steady inflection as if to avoid igniting his highly volatile wife; in this respect Burgdorf and Bailey are a perfect pairing for the stage.

Beatriz Algranti plays the pivotal role of Jane Bennet, the catalyst that breaks the Bennet family out of its provincial doldrums and lurches it forward into the vagaries of matrimonial dice rolls.

As is revealed later into the play Darcy tried to scotch Bingley’s plan to marry Jane because he observed “no reciprocal interest in Jane” for Bingley.

Here may lie a glitch in the script.

Contrary to Darcy’s observations, Miss Algranti’s radiant, effulgent and sustained smile for Bingley—as played by Chase Lee—dismantles Darcy’s credibility as a witness.

Miss Algranti’s Jane is a veritably beacon of luminous infatuation; every time she is within eyeshot of Mr. Bingley she radiates romantic love.

Chase Lee is the love smitten, handsome counterpart to Miss Algranti’s Jane; to his acting credit Mr. Lee achieves a certain blissful obliviousness that only Eros and young love can perpetrate on the uninitiated.

Austen’s Jane is arguably the most beautiful young lady in Netherfield; her character—which Miss Algranti has captured with precision—contrasts sharply with Elizabeth’s; Jane is sweetly demure.

Jane too is prejudiced; only she strains to see only the good in others.

Another Klieg Light in this show is Lizzy Duncan; she superbly plays Lydia Bennet, the youngest and most wayward of the Bennet sisters.

Miss Duncan is arguably the best piece of casting in the entire play.

Her character Lydia, is barely 16, is frivolous and headstrong; she enjoys socializing, especially flirting with the officers of the local militia.

Miss Duncan, possibly coasting on the elfin enchantment of her twinkling eyes, signals her character’s casual disregard for the strictures of convention and . . . ahem . . . the moral code of her society.

Lizzy’s blithe smile, lithe gait and insouciant expression collectively signal the audience that her Lydia is devoid of any inkling of remorse for the disgrace she causes her Victorian family.

As Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mario Jimenez is the master of ambiguity and transformation.

Faithfully portraying Mr. Darcy’s initial arrogance, contemptus mundi and haughty pride, Mario deludes the audience in to believing every accusation and invective launched by rush-to-judgment Elizabeth and the perfidious Mr. Wickham.

Mr. Darcy’s aloof decorum, dislike of dancing and small talk, and exacting rectitude are understandably construed as excessive pride.

Darcy makes a poor impression on strangers—particularly Elizabeth—yet he is respected by those who know him well.

Mr. Jimenez’s acting provides for a certain transparency that reveals to his audience that Darcy has more than one dimension and that the true Mr. Darcy is in fact a noble being.

As Darcy and Elizabeth are forced to be in each other’s company, Mr. Jimenez begins to effuse a certain romantic glow, signaling an expanding romantic interest in the naively and forgivably prejudiced Elizabeth.

Ryan Borashan is delightful as the nefarious Mr. Wickham, pouring his perfidious venom into the eager ear of Elizabeth.

Wickham was a childhood friend of Mr. Darcy and now, as an officer in the militia, he is superficially charming and smarmy; just as Elizabeth is wrong about Darcy so too does she misjudge Wickham.

For all the wrong reasons Wickham and Lizzy form an erroneous alliance.

Mr. Borashan’s Wickham displays a convincing, yet duplicitous, charm that earns him the privilege of running off with the bright-eyed Lydia and marrying her.

Again, no epilogue informs us on the outcome of that union.

Several frosty characters, like large monolithic hailstones, litter Netherfield Park and its environs; chiefly amongst them are Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine.

Caroline Bingley is played with cryogenic frigidity by Caroline Campbell.

Miss Bingley is the snobbish sister of Charles Bingley—Charles, along with Mary and Kitty Bennet all suffered a horrific accident when the director’s hedge trimmers, which he used to hew down the prolix script, went amuck excising poor Charles, Mary and Kitty from the play entirely; they are now known as the desaparecidos.

Miss Bingley has a dowry of twenty thousand pounds and harbors hopelessly misplaced romantic intentions for Mr. Darcy; she is viciously jealous of Darcy’s growing attachment to Elizabeth and is disdainful and rude to Elizabeth.

Miss Campbell is so convincing when performing the condescending snobbishness and vile jealously of the rich, that we eagerly await tax increases for anyone who earns more than we do.

Even more chilling is Cienna Johnson’s portrayal of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

We learned that several people in the orchestra section had frost bitten toes due to their proximity to the set and Miss Johnson.

As Miss Johnson veritably hissed her threatening lines to Elizabeth, one could imagine icy vapors billowing with her every vituperation.

Lady Catherine, as personified by Miss Johnson, reinforces stereotypes of the wealthy leisure class and those with inherited social standing.

Thanks to Miss Johnson’s glacial performance, we are now psychologically prepared to boost taxes on inheritances and tax the daylights out of the trust funds of haughty, domineering dowagers like Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her ilk.

Rarely when actors are double cast do they appear on stage simultaneously as both characters, but Assistant Director Tait Adams breaks that taboo; she played both Mr. and Mrs. Gardner at once.

While Mrs. Gardner was three-dimensional, poor Mr. Gardner was merely two-dimensional, was always forced about by his wife and never spoke without Mrs. Gardner speaking first.

Tait Adams exuded a degree of stage confidence rarely evidenced in amateur productions; her delivery was well chiseled and clearly articulated.

There were several times that the quality of the acting in this play was indistinguishable from professional stage acting—certainly Miss Vasicek’s heated denouncements and Miss Burgdorf’s high blown histrionics—Miss Adams indisputably reached that plane.

Necessity or resourcefulness placed Laura Gomez in the androgynous role of Mr. Collins: an obsequious boot-licker to his employer: her haughty highness the Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Miss Gomez ably transmitted Mr. Collins’ exaggerated sense of self-important and even more vividly Mr. Collins’ pedantic nature—Miss Gomez should consider public education someday.

Supporting actors of this thoroughly enjoyable production included Linnea Arneson, Jess Vicman, Skye Chandler, Megan Jones, Gabe Lima, Brad Barna and Alexandra Barajas.

While this reviewer approached the marquee with a certain amount of misplaced trepidation, he was delighted by the creative spontaneity and vitality of the show.

You may have missed Hendrix at Monterey, Janis at the Fillmore West, Bob at Newport, the Stones at Altamont, hopefully you did not miss a superlative PRIDE & PREJUDICE at Encinal nor will you miss the upcoming DINING ROOM and HAIR, THE MUSICAL.

BLOODY BLOODY ANDREW JACKSON

By Jeffrey R. Smith

BLOODY BLOODY ANDREW JACKSON

 

Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle

 

The all new San Francisco Playhouse, at 450 Post, is presently performing BLOODY BLOODY ANDREW JACKSON by Alex Timbers and Michael Friedman.

 

Victims of their own success, creative genii Bill English and Susi Damilano were crowded out of their former digs at the Jean Shelton complex; now they seat audiences commensurate with the qualitative edge they enjoy within the San Francisco environs; it is worth noting that their bar has quintupled in length.

 

Their current performance piece is a unique hybrid of that occupies the very intersection of rock musical, dark comedy, docudrama and political satire.

 

But don’t be fooled; the music and the comedy are a set up; a conspiracy to lure the audience into a place of vulnerability, susceptibility and receptivity to dark historical truths of American Expansion.

 

The aegis of our American exceptionalism is temporarily lowered and we are led to see ourselves in the boarder, grittier, historical context.

 

As the title suggests, Andrew Jackson was bloody; his carnage was equal parts vengeance, political ambition, military stratagem, hatred and racism.

 

Jackson cleared six states of all pockets of resistance to unbridled American expansion; without Congressional approval he eradicated the Spanish and British influence in the American Southeast.

 

His imperialistic successes inspired America’s patriotic myth of “manifest destiny;” a myth that was brought to completion by the whole sale annexations of James Polk.

 

Jackson eliminated his enemies both in the territories and Washington D.C. and like most unchallenged rulers he stepped on to that slippery slope of sic semper tyrannis.

 

His excesses lead to the infamous Trail of Tears; a forced march impossible to morally differentiate from the Bataan Death March which was of equal scale.

 

Ashkon Davaran is the star and focus of this show; he commands the stage with high energy, bravado and mesmerizing charisma as he portrays a rustic, accidental leader’s accent to the White House.

 

The music is reminiscent of Green Day, specifically AMERICAN IDIOT, only better under the capable Musical Direction of Jonathon Fadner.

 

Wait until you see the cello player’s finale: simply amazing.

 

A set design, by Award Winning Set Designer—indeed architect—Nina Ball, presages the future of the orphaned pioneer lad in Tennessee.

 

Angel Burgess is absolutely stunning as she plays Jackson’s wife Rachel: a woman with a heart too big and too filled with longing, loneliness and sorrow not to break.

 

Director Jon Tracy has bundled a compelling script, a talented cast and rocking musical score to create what is easily the best happening in San Francisco.

 

It is over-the-top and should not be missed.

 

For tickets call 415-677-9591 or surf on over to sfplayhouse.org.

 

Hurry, your historical perspective might never be the same.

 

 

Marat Sade

By Jeffrey R. Smith
The Thrillpeddlers are currently performing “The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton, Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade.” If you cannot remember that prolix title then the succinct, MARAT SADE, will suffice and get you tickets for the correct show at the Brava Theatre in San Francisco’s Mission District. If you cannot remember Marat Sade and his role in the French Revolution then perhaps you might remember Marat Sade via the painter Jacques-Louis David who immortalized Marat in his painting “The Death of Marat;” the painted resides in the Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts in Brussels. Before launching into the play, a historical excursus may be helpful, given that the adversarial relationship between Marat Sade and the Marquis de Sade as depicted in the play is not without historical basis. In the days prior to his assassination, Marat had fallen out with the Marquis de Sade and was arranging for his arrest. We might call the assassination a preemptive strike given that the Marquis de Sade was becoming appalled with the excesses of the Reign of Terror which Marat fanned with his uncompromising incendiary revolutionary rhetoric. Given the excesses of the French Revolution, it seems incongruous that the infamous Marquis de Sade should be removed from office and imprisoned for his “moderatism.” Marat’s assassin—about which this play orbits—was the crafty Charlotte Corday. Corday gained access to Marat via a ruse, an urgent letter of petition—one of the first of many murders conducted by letter carriers. Prior to ripping through Marat’s sternum with a kitchen knife, Corday engaged him a political discourse for nearly a quarter of an hour; her salient points were obviously lost on Marat. The nefarious Corday hid her knife in her corset which fashion historians argue was probably a size too large in order to comfortably accommodate both her anatomy and her weapon. As George Santayana said, “Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it.” Marat, ignoring the lessons of the ORESTIA, like Agamemnon, feels the sting of the assassin’s blade while trustingly and vulnerably soaking in a bath. It calls to question if sponge baths or a speed baths in public restrooms would not be better suited to political extremists. Miss Charlotte defended the assassination saying “I killed one man to save 100,000.” As the whirly-gig of time would have it, for her well-meaning treachery, Charlotte Corday ultimately ends up on the receiving end of an ever bigger blade; the angled blade “humanely” advocated by Doctor Joseph-Ignace Guillotin. Peter Weiss, author of the play on which this adaption by Adrian Mitchell is based, questions whether revolution can truly achieve lasting change or significantly improve the human condition. We may vote out, toss out or execute the current cadre of bureaucrats, bankers, brokers and tax collectors, but necessity and culture will replace them with possibly an even more rapacious brood—remember: after the French Revolution came Napoleon. Be warned: when the English version of this play opened at the Royal Shakespearian Theatre, a minimum of 30 repulsed and disgusted people slipped away each night under the anonymity of intermission. Critics charged that the “nudity and bodily effluvia were shocking and the text itself was overwhelmed by the raw outpourings of primal emotion.” Now that’s a pretty strong endorsement. Be warned a second time: the show does contain nudity so depending on your degree of prurience or priggishness and where you are seated, opera glasses or a lorgnette may be appropriate. The philosophical debate between the Marquis de Sade, who “fails to delve into his words fully,” and Marat seems to take a back seat to the chaotic violence it precipitates. De Sade is the engine in the play; he cynically conducts philosophical dialogues with Marat; badgering him, all the while observing the proceedings with sardonic satisfaction. De Sade remains detached when the inmates speak of rights and justice; he shows little regard for practical politics; de Sade stands by as an observer and an advocate for his own nihilistic, epicurean and individualist beliefs. Topically, the show is highly relevant given that it is an election year and perhaps a critical turning point for the middle class of the hitherto pampered world. As in the case of a revolution, the audience might ask itself, “Will a different political party be able to affect change?” or “Does the economy even have a political solution?” Perhaps it is time that the middle class reinvents itself: steps away from its consumer identity and redefines itself in terms of its cultural, intellectual, humanitarian and creative aspirations. MARAT SADE is a graphic diatribe against inadequate leaders who manipulate their people into complacency. While a revolution is taking place within the central cage of the set—leaving the floor strewn with clothes and bodies—the spectators i.e. the bourgeoisie as symbolized by the hospital director, Coulmier, his wife and daughter, sit in silence, uncertain as to how to react. Despite the best efforts of Coulmier, the patients make a habit of speaking lines Coulmier attempts to suppress; the patients deviate entirely into personal opinions. The play is both highly original and shockingly potent philosophically; it is a psychological journey into one of the most complex and brutal periods of recorded history. Multi-layered ideas come at the audience like insects splattering on a windshield; the words and images can be overwhelming; this is not casual entertainment; this is an exploration of history and the deepest questions of good and evil and free will. Dazzling and provocative costuming by the Bay Area’s award winning Beaver Bauer take this show from spectacle to spectacular; as Oscar Wilde once said, “Anything worth doing is worth doing to excess,” and Beaver has clearly approached that ideal. Jeff Garrett is smashing as the Marquis de Sade; when it is time to be whipped by the “cat of nine tails” Garrett is no shirker; the cracking of leather on his flesh would send a freak on holiday. Aaron Malberg as Jean-Paul Marat is masterful, he proves that understatement is the best depiction of profundity; caught in the web of his own political conceits, MR Malberg’s Marat is visibly tangled in a philosophical loop that does not provide exit strategies. Bonni Suval, as the nefarious Charlotte Corday, portrays a heightened psychopathic urgency and intensity; her every expression and movement seem to beg the question, “Can I kill him now?” Director Russell Blackwood does a marvelous job conducting this chaotic, riotous three ring circus orgy that seems to oscillate between a cast party and a mental hospital. Rarely does the carnal spirit of the French Revolution get captured by the Klieg Lights. MARAT SADE at the Brava is not the faint hearted; this is gritty; shocking; offensive; this is well worth the time and money. For more info, surf on over to thrillpeddlars.com

THE TEMPEST

By Jeffrey R. Smith

THE TEMPESTReviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics CircleThe summer solstice has yet to arrive and already director Jonathan Moscone has produced this summer’s classic: THE TEMPEST by William Shakespeare.Now, through June 24th, the California Shakespeare Theater at Bruns Theater in Orinda will echo with the thundering gale of Prospero’s conjured storm.Clear articulation and measured pacing bring the Elizabethan English into sharp comprehensible focus.Each year we perilously distance ourselves further from the lingua of the Bard; Shakespearean directors and actors must work harder to bridge the expanding linguistic chasm.Shakespearean scholars rightfully argue that THE TEMPEST is both neoclassical and Shakespeare’s greatest work.Sadly to many scholars, it signals Shakespeare’s intention to retire from theater: as Prospero gives up black magic, so too did Shakespeare, after writing THE TEMPEST, give up the magic of the stage.One of the bay area’s most versatile and gifted actors, James Carpenter, brilliantly executes his craft as Alonso, the repentant King of Naples.That dazzling diva of bay area stages, Catherine Castellanos, embraces two diverse roles: Caliban (part fish, part man, part redolent monster) and Antonio (the evil usurper of Prospero’s Milanese crown). And why burn fossil fuels getting to Ashland when a star of Ashland, Michael Winters, has traveled to the Orinda stage.Michael Winters is magnificent as that vengeful sorcerer and castaway: Prospero, a displaced monarch who doesn’t mad, he gets even, and don’t ever call him Stormy; he hates that.Comic relief is provided by Nicholas Pesczar, in the form of that besotted jester, Trinculo, who does his best to empty a bot of jettisoned port before he drinks his first drop of water.Set designer Emily Greene has created a most imaginative and intelligent set; she has moved the action right to the edge of the audience, where it should be.Rather than being tempted to utilize the retreating back forty, MS Greene keeps the action focused, seemingly within the reach of the audience; no one needs opera glasses, a lorgnette or 3-D glasses to have a sense of intimacy with the show.Choreographer Erika Chong Shuch achieves a remarkable balance: while no one wants to see Prospero’s island turned into a Broadway stage, it must be recognized that Jonathon Moscone’s signature approach to directing is kinesthetic; fluid movement; not trudging on and off stage.While MS Shuch’s choreography does not result in the hoofing you’d see in a musical it wonderfully links movement to the emotional baseline of the play.California Shakespeare’s THE TEMPEST is not merely a performance, it is a production, an event, a confluence of art forms, an intersection of great imaginations.Rarely do this many artistic geniuses converge on one stage; THE TEMPEST should not be missed.For tickets call the Cal Shakes box office at 510.548.9666 or visit info@calshakes.org.

THE GREAT DIVIDE

By Jeffrey R. Smith

THE GREAT DIVIDEReviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics CircleThe Shotgun Players of Berkeley are presently performing THE GREAT DIVIDE.Brilliantly directed by Mina Morita, the play uses Ibsen’s AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE as a template.Adam Chanzit has moved the setting from a Norwegian town just downstream from the fetid mill town of Molletal, to a sintered town in Colorado which has the fortune, or misfortune, to be perched on top of a flatulent vein of Marcellus shale.Although the geography or geology may be a little off, Chanzit has correctly depicted the dubious benefits of extracting natural gas from shale via fracturing.As human nature would have it, the indigent townspeople of this Colorado hamlet are slavering over the possibility of real jobs, royalty checks, cheap energy, bigger houses, glitzier cars, better cuts of meat and cable service with 500 channels.A decent shot at the American Dream has everyone poised for moral compromise, spring loaded to the environment be damned position and willing to sacrifice the common good for the sake of the common good.While the local economy has never been so robust, it is a pity the same cannot be said for its withering denizens; the townspeople and, more sadly, the innocent goats are stricken by all the ancillary side effects of drinking shots of benzene with their well water.Hovstad, an earnest whelp of a journalist (duplicitously played Ryan Tasker) is taking notes for his Pulitzer Prize entry, while Doctor Katherine Stockmann is taking water samples and offering bottled water and evacuation as an antidote to the malaise.Just as the town is beginning to smell the benzene tainted lucre, Doctor Stockmann (played righteously by Heather Robison) succeeds in temporarily driving off the drilling and fracking company; the people are not happy, you can almost hear their plaintive yelps, “Shane, Come Back” to the spoilers.Needless to say, Doctor Stockman does not become a viable candidate for the town council or mayor, nor is she elected to the state assembly; if the town had a Shirley Jackson style Lottery Doctor Stockman would have won it hands down.The Shotgun Players are the obvious choice to spot light this timely issue of environment and ground water versus cheap energy prices and avarice; the Shotgun Players occupy the moral high ground; they are possibly the greenest and most environmentally friendly theater in the country; their photovoltaic array not only powers their Klieg Lights, it produces a surplus of electrons that are force fed to PG & E.Sure this is an election year, but if you are thinking of political or social activism, you might want to witness what happens to the Stockmann family when Citizen Katherine sticks her head into the powder keg.THE GREAT DIVIDE will not only entertain you, it will challenge you intellectually and might even get you to trade the 12 mpg SUV for a bicycle and swap those archaic incandescent bulbs in for LEDs.As Pogo once said, “We have met the enemy and he is us.”Don’t miss THE GREAT DIVIDE; it runs now through June 24; call the box office at 510-841-6500 or surf over to www.shotgunplayers.org.