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Joe Cillo

The World Goes ‘Round

By Joseph Cillo

 

Warm, Witty Revue of Kander & Ebb’s Best Broadway Moments

The Lark Theater’s production of The World Goes ‘Round is a vibrant and heartfelt celebration of the iconic songwriting team John Kander and Fred Ebb. This tightly woven musical revue delivers some of their greatest hits—songs known from Cabaret, Chicago, Kiss of the Spider Woman, and more—along with a few lesser-known gems that deserve their time in the spotlight.

Directed and choreographed with flair by Carolyn Hutchinson, the show moves briskly, but with grace. The cast— Maureen McVerry, Emma Roos, Noel Anthony, Ken Brill and Dyan McBride (pictured) — bring both polish and playfulness to the stage, each with moments to shine. Whether it’s comedy, tenderness, or full-on Broadway razzle-dazzle, they meet the moment.

photo credit: Stephanie Clarke

Seated in the Lark’s supremely comfortable chairs, with perfect sightlines in every direction, you feel more like a guest in the showroom of a luxury cruise ship than an audience member at a small-town venue. The Art Deco interior is beautifully restored, and the theater’s atmosphere matches the class and style of the performance onstage.

The musical direction by Dave Dobrusky is sharp and inventive. These are familiar tunes—but here, they get fresh arrangements full of tight cross-harmonies and clever transpositions that reveal new layers. The cast delivers them with clarity and heart, and Dobrusky’s presence on the keys adds energy and connection.

Adding even more dimension are the full-screen digital projections that roll behind the performers—beautifully designed and precisely timed to support the mood of each number without ever distracting from it. They help set the tone, the place, and sometimes even the punchline.

Song List

21 songs from across Kander and Ebb’s prolific careers:

  • “The World Goes ‘Round”

  • “Coffee in a Cardboard Cup”

  • “Colored Lights”

  • “Sara Lee”

  • “Arthur in the Afternoon”

  • “My Coloring Book”

  • “I Don’t Remember You”

  • “Sometimes a Day Goes By”

  • “All That Jazz”

  • “Mr. Cellophane”

  • “There Goes the Ball Game”

  • “How Lucky Can You Get”

  • “Marry Me”

  • “A Quiet Thing”

  • “Kiss of the Spider Woman”

  • “The Grass Is Always Greener”

  • “We Can Make It”

  • “Isn’t This Better?”

  • “Money, Money”

  • “Cabaret”

  • “New York, New York” (with a rousing, join-in finish)

Performances Through Sunday, April 20

Remaining showtimes:

  • Thursday, April 10 – 7:00 pm

  • Sunday, April 13 – 2:00 pm

  • Saturday, April 19 – 7:00 pm

  • Sunday, April 20 – 2:00 pm

Tickets:

$50 General Admission
Order online at www.larktheater.net or call the box office at (415) 924-5111
Location: The Lark Theater, 549 Magnolia Avenue, Larkspur, CA

This is a high-quality, joyfully performed production that honors its source material while adding something fresh and local. Whether you’re a Kander and Ebb devotee or someone just looking for a stylish night out, this show is well worth catching before the curtain falls.

Buttercup

By Joseph Cillo

 

Madcap Farce with Big Ideas, Bold Performances, and a Pipe-Smoking Nun

Buttercup, the theatrical debut of St. Helena’s J.D. Murphy, now playing at Marin Shakespeare Company—is a smart, fast-paced, and delightfully ridiculous ride through 1880s France. Directed by Bay Area theater veteran Nancy Carlin, this new comedy delivers sharp satire disguised as farce, complete with door slamming, social skewering, and a heroine guided by visions of Joan of Arc.

From the opening moment, Lizzie Calogero sets the tone with comic precision as a witty, pipe-smoking nun who serves as our dryly observant narrator. With a raised eyebrow and the calm of someone who’s clearly seen it all, she introduces us to a world where social hypocrisy and comic mayhem go hand-in-hand.

Then the madness begins. The play features three doors onstage—always a good sign—and they’re constantly in use. But that’s not all. With a square stage setup, actors dash in and out from all four corners, weaving through the audience and into the action with perfectly-timed chaos. It’s physical comedy done right: choreographed confusion, crisp pacing, and just enough absurdity.

Gianna DiGregorio Rivera plays Buttercup with spark and sincerity, anchoring the show with warmth even as she leaps through farce-worthy hurdles. A former nun turned courtesan, Buttercup is determined to reunite with her baby daughter—and winds up in a traveling group of bourgeois couples, a cool-headed coachman, and a reserved Prussian officer. Her scenes bring both humor and heart, grounding the absurdity in real emotional stakes.

Nancy Carlin’s direction is tight, lively, and laced with nuance. She guides a strong ensemble—Rebecca Pingree, Titus VanHook, Brennan Pickman-Thoon, Richard Pallaziol, Norman Gee, Sarah Mitchell, and Brian Lohmann—through quick turns, layered dialogue, and rapid-fire entrances and exits, all while keeping the audience engaged and grinning.

The production is visually sharp, thanks to a talented creative team. Scenic designer Randy Wong-Westbrooke crafts a clever, flexible space. Maggie Whitaker’s costumes are a parade of period flair and comic exaggeration. Lighting by Christian Mejia, sound by Ray Archie, and choreography by Bridgette Loriaux all work together to support the show’s quick rhythm and high energy.

Underneath the laughs, Murphy’s script offers commentary on class divides, hypocrisy, and resilience. The humor lands, but so does the message. Buttercup is farce with a brain—and a soul.

Performances run through April 13, at Marin Shakespeare Company, 514 Fourth Street, San Rafael. The show runs Thursdays through Sundays. Evening performances are at 7:30 p.m., with Saturday and Sunday matinees at 2:00 p.m.

Tickets are $20–35, available at purplepass.com/buttercup. More information at buttercupstage.com.

Murphy, known for his award-winning film Valley of the Heart’s Delight and political satire, proves he knows how to stir theater into the mix. Buttercup is quick, clever, and consistently fun. A terrific debut—and a thoroughly entertaining night out.

Mrs. Krishnan’s Party

By Joseph Cillo

 

More Than a Show—It’s a Celebration

The thing about a good party is, you don’t always know what you’re walking into. You might get an awkward silence. You might get lukewarm spinach dip. Or—if you’re lucky—you might find yourself wrapped up in something unexpected, like a room full of strangers laughing together over a bubbling pot of dahl. Mrs. Krishnan’s Party, now at Marin Theatre, is that kind of lucky.

This isn’t a play where you sit back quietly in the dark, politely ignoring the person rustling candy wrappers two rows over. It’s a full-on, feet-on-the-table, hands-in-the-cooking-pot kind of night. Marin Theatre’s Boyer Main Stage has been transformed into the cluttered backroom of a convenience store, with audience members seated right in the thick of it. And your level of participation? Well, that depends on how adventurous you’re feeling.

Want to stay in the safe zone? You can. But if you sit in the “Cheeky Seats,” be prepared: you may end up cooking, dancing, or suddenly finding yourself in an impromptu comedy duo—no rehearsal required. It’s immersive theater at its most unpredictable, which means no two performances are ever the same.

And what a party it is. Even before the story begins, the atmosphere buzzes with energy. Guests are handed colorful gauze scarves, garlands, and leis to wear. Balloons are passed around and, when the moment strikes, sent soaring into the air like we’re all in on some giant, joy-filled secret. It’s the kind of immersive experience that doesn’t just break the fourth wall—it dances on top of it.

At the heart of it all is Mrs. Krishnan, played with warmth and spark by Kalyani Nagarajan, a woman hoping for a quiet evening in her store’s back room. But James—a university student with DJ dreams, played by Justin Rogers—has other plans. He kicks off the show, welcoming guests and organizing a surprise Onam celebration in her honor. James sets the tone as the party’s emcee and master of ceremonies, drawing the audience into the spirit of the evening with high energy and improvisational flair. While Mrs. Krishnan tries to keep things grounded, James leans into the chaos, creating space for connection, laughter, and joy.

Nagarajan brings infectious energy and expressive physicality to the role, embodying Mrs. Krishnan’s warmth, exasperation, and joy with every glance and gesture. Her thick Indian accent can sometimes make dialogue tricky to catch, but her face, her body language, and her impeccable comedic timing do a lot of the talking. You might miss a word here or there, but you’ll never miss the meaning. She carries the performance with such a vibrant presence that Mrs. Krishnan doesn’t feel like a character—she feels like the host of the best dinner party in town.

And speaking of dinner—yes, there’s food. Throughout the show, a pot of dahl simmers gently onstage, filling the space with warm, comforting aromas. And then, as the night winds down, the cast serves it to the audience. No plastic-wrapped intermission snacks here—just a simple, shared meal that turns an already communal experience into something even more intimate.

The script shifts each night, responding to audience interaction. Someone might be invited to help with the cooking. Another might suddenly be part of a spontaneous skit. A bit of improv here, a dance break there—this production thrives on unpredictability.

And yes, there’s dancing. One moment Mrs. Krishnan is stirring dahl and cracking jokes; the next, she’s leading a dance from atop a table, sweeping everyone into celebration. Between the music, movement, and moments of unrehearsed connection, the play becomes less of a performance and more of a shared experience—one you don’t just watch, but feel part of.

What truly sets Mrs. Krishnan’s Party apart is how it lingers. As the lights came up, no one rushed to the exits. We stayed. We ate together. A small, simple gesture—but one that brought everything full circle. The play ends, but the party continues.

Playwrights Jacob Rajan and Justin Lewis, co-founders of New Zealand’s Indian Ink Theatre Company, have created something uniquely heartfelt—part storytelling, part improv, part social experiment in joyful human connection. John Verryt’s cluttered, lived-in set and Jane Hakaraia’s warm, inviting lighting make the space feel less like a theater and more like someone’s kitchen on a festival day.

If you’re in the mood for something different—something surprising, genuine, and irresistibly fun—Mrs. Krishnan’s Party is worth pulling up a chair for. And if you leave a little hungrier than when you arrived, well—don’t worry. They’ve got that covered too.


Performances & Tickets

Mrs. Krishnan’s Party runs through March 30 at Marin Theatre, 397 Miller Avenue, Mill Valley. Tickets range from $47–$97, plus a $6 handling fee per total order. Visit MarinTheatre.org or call 415-388-5208 for availability and ticket purchases.

This is a short run, so get your tix now!

Push / Pull

By Joseph Cillo

 

A Play That’ll Work You Over Like a Bad Personal Trainer

Central Works opens its 2025 season with Push/Pull, a play so packed with intensity and gym lingo, you might leave the theater feeling sore. Written by Harry Davis, this production takes a deep dive into the fine line between self-improvement and self-destruction—a line so fine, it might as well be written in protein powder.

Clark, our protagonist, is in rough shape—emotionally, not physically (yet). After a tough breakup and a stint in a mental health facility, he reconnects with his childhood buddy Nolan, who’s now an amateur bodybuilder with the kind of dedication usually reserved for medieval monks or tax auditors. Nolan offers to turn Clark into a muscle-bound marvel, provided Clark helps him win his Pro Card. What ensues is equal parts bro-bonding, existential unraveling, and enough posing routines to make a peacock self-conscious.

Under the direction of Gary Graves, Push/Pull finds its rhythm in the push-pull (see what I did there?) of these two men’s ambitions. The intimate setting at the Berkeley City Club means you can see every muscle twitch and every drop of sweat (hopefully stage sweat, but no guarantees). It’s the kind of play that makes you think deep thoughts, like: What drives us to reinvent ourselves? Can we ever really escape who we are? And do I need to start lifting weights?

Andre Amarotico plays Clark with the kind of quiet desperation that sneaks up on you, while Matthew Kropschot’s Nolan is the embodiment of a guy who truly believes discipline can fix everything. Together, they create a chemistry that feels like two guys stuck in an elevator, each convinced the other one has the key.

Davis’ writing is smart, funny, and sneakily profound. The dialogue snaps like a weight belt in need of replacement, and the themes hit as hard as a deadlift gone wrong. There’s a rhythm to the words that makes you feel like you’re watching two people spar, except instead of punches, they’re throwing doubts, fears, and occasional flexes.

Visually, the play delivers the goods—sharp lighting, well-timed sound cues, and a general sense that if you sat too close, you might get drafted into an impromptu push-up contest. The whole thing is beautifully staged, making the audience feel like voyeurs at the gym, watching two men lift more than just weights.

Central Works has done it again—taking a topic you didn’t know you needed to see on stage and making it riveting. If you’ve ever wrestled with the idea of self-worth, ambition, or whether you should be drinking more raw eggs, Push/Pull is for you.

Ticket Information

  • Performances Through March 30
  • Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant Ave, Berkeley, CA
  • Showtimes
    • Thurs & Fri: 8 PM
    • Sat: 7 PM
    • Sun: 5 PM
  • Tickets
    • Fri–Sun: $35–$45
    • Thurs: Pay-What-You-Can
    • Sliding scale tickets ($20–$45) available at noon on the day of the show
  • How to Get Tickets

Stretch first.

 

DOOMERS

By Joseph Cillo

 

A Sharp, Funny, and Terrifying Look at AI’s Future

If you’ve ever wanted to watch a bunch of brilliant, self-important tech types tear each other apart while sitting close enough to dodge the metaphorical (and maybe literal) shrapnel, DOOMERS is your show. Matthew Gasda’s latest play, staged in the intimate Pallas Gallery, doesn’t just invite you into the world of an imploding AI company—it plunks you right down in the middle of it, where you can feel the heat from the egos and the existential dread in real time.

And when we say intimate, we mean intimate. No cushy separation between actors and audience, no towering set pieces—just a rug marking the boundaries of the battlefield. The actors are working with about as much personal space as you’d get on a packed subway car, which makes it all the more thrilling when tensions flare. There were moments when you could practically see the wheels turning in their heads—half from character motivation, half from trying not to trip over our feet.

Act 1: The War Room – Enter the Mad Genius

We open in the offices of MindMesh, where Seth, the freshly booted, maybe-brilliant, maybe-certifiable CEO, is huddled with his loyalists, trying to figure out whether to fight, flee, or burn it all down. Seth sees himself as the only one who can properly birth Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) into the world, and his disciples range from true believers to those just hoping not to go down with the ship. It’s a fast, funny, and deeply unsettling portrait of ambition unhinged, as Seth works the room like a cornered chess grandmaster who still thinks he’s five moves ahead.

Act 2: The Boardroom – Meet the “Responsible” Adults

Over in the corporate boardroom, the so-called “AI doomers” are trying to steer the company—and possibly humanity—away from the abyss. Or are they? Turns out, their definitions of responsibility and ethics vary widely, and as the discussions wear on, it becomes clear that just because Seth is gone doesn’t mean the danger is. Backstabbing, grandstanding, and a bombshell revelation about Seth’s next move turn this act into a slow-burning ethical minefield, leaving the audience to wonder whether these people have humanity’s best interests in mind—or just their own.

A Production That Blurs the Line Between AI and Theater

One of the more unusual aspects of DOOMERS is how artificial intelligence was integrated into its creative process. The playbill lists ChatGPT and Claude—two AI language models—as official dramaturgs, a role typically reserved for human researchers who assist with script development, thematic refinement, and historical context.

While AI tools are increasingly used in creative writing and editing, it’s rare for them to receive formal credit in a live theater production. Given that DOOMERS itself explores AI’s role in shaping the future, this could be a meta-commentary, an artistic experiment, or simply a nod to the evolving relationship between technology and the arts. Regardless, it raises intriguing questions about authorship and collaboration—how much of the script was influenced by AI, and what does it mean for the future of theater when machines contribute to storytelling?

An Outstanding Ensemble Cast

Photo credits Ash Baker.

The performances are uniformly strong, with Sam Hyrkin delivering a compelling mix of arrogance and desperation as Seth. Emily Keyishian’s Myra and Arup Chakrabarti’s Sanjay provide a sharp counterbalance, navigating the chaos Seth leaves behind. The full cast includes:

  • Seth – Sam Hyrkin
  • Jeff – Tommy Harkness
  • Myra – Emily Keyishian
  • Sanjay – Arup Chakrabarti
  • Alina – Emily Anderson
  • Mei – Gabi Maalihan
  • Richard – Evan Sokol
  • Charlie – Elliot Gross
  • Harriet – Anna Connelly
  • Eli – Alex Trono

Each actor brings a distinct energy to the ensemble, ensuring that DOOMERS never feels like a lecture on AI ethics but rather a fast-moving, tension-filled human drama.

The Takeaway? You’d Be a Fool to Miss This One

Gasda’s dialogue crackles with the kind of sharp wit and brutal insight that makes you both laugh and wince. The extreme proximity inside the intimate Pallas Gallery only intensifies the experience—you’re not just watching a power struggle, you’re practically in it. There’s no escape from the tension, no leaning back in your seat—you’re close enough to feel the microexpressions, the nervous twitches, the moments of triumph and collapse.

Director Ash Baker keeps the pacing taut, letting the existential horror sneak in between barbed one-liners and philosophical sparring. By the time the lights go down, you’re left wondering not just about AI’s future, but about the very human mess of egos, ambition, and self-delusion that’s driving it.

The Intimate Pallas Gallery – 1111 Geary Blvd, San Francisco, CA 94109

Reserve tickets: Jacob Donaldson (jacobmpdonaldson@gmail.com)

Ticket Prices:

  • General Admission: $30
  • Premium Seating: $50

Remaining performances run through March 22.


Harvey

By Joseph Cillo

 

A Rip-Roaring, Rabbit-Loving Romp: Harvey Brings the Laughs and a Little Magic

Now, folks, there are plays that make you think, and then there are plays that make you smile, and Harvey does a fine job of the latter. Pittsburg Theatre Company’s take on Mary Chase’s Pulitzer Prize-winning classic is a warm, witty, and downright delightful production that invites audiences to leave their skepticism at the door and embrace the improbable—namely, a six-foot, one-and-a-half-inch-tall invisible rabbit named Harvey.

From the moment you see the production’s striking promotional artwork—a silhouette of a sharply dressed figure, only instead of a human head, it’s a rabbit—you know you’re in for something playful yet sophisticated. This clever visual sets the tone for a show that balances humor with heart, whimsy with wit.

At the heart of this well-paced comedy is Kirk Waller as Elwood P. Dowd, a man whose unwavering politeness and gentle nature make him instantly likable. Waller plays the role with an effortless charm, as if he were born to spend his days tipping his hat to an imaginary best friend. Suzanne Ochs as his long-suffering sister Veta Louise Simmons gives a sharp and hilarious performance, exasperated to no end as she tries to navigate the chaos that her brother’s unusual friendship causes. Skylar Clouse as Myrtle Mae Simmons, determined to escape social ruin, brings just the right mix of desperation and comedic energy.

The supporting cast is top-notch, with Brad Verla as Dr. Chumley, Phillip Leyva as Dr. Sanderson, and Mary Katherine Patterson as Nurse Kelly rounding out the ensemble with standout performances. Each brings their own flair to the production, ensuring that every moment is packed with humor, tension, or outright absurdity.

Visually, the production shines. Director and producer Dianna Schepers has orchestrated a show that feels both polished and heartfelt. The set design and sound, also by Schepers, transport the audience seamlessly between the Dowd home and Chumley’s Rest, capturing the play’s timeless whimsy. Jana McDowell’s costume design is a perfect fit for the era, and Mike Morris’ lighting design keeps the show feeling dynamic without distraction.

Adding to the production’s charm is the work of the stage crew and volunteers, including the talented students from Pittsburg High School’s Stagecraft class. It’s clear that this is a community-driven show in the best sense—full of heart, collaboration, and an appreciation for the magic of live theater.

A Note on Pookas and Harvey’s Whimsical Legacy

In Irish folklore, a pooka (púca) is a mischievous spirit that can bring good or bad fortune, often appearing in animal forms, like a rabbit or horse. Harvey embodies this tradition as an unseen but ever-present companion, guiding Elwood P. Dowd’s life in whimsical and mysterious ways. His presence, real or imagined, challenges those around him to reconsider what is “normal” and embrace kindness, imagination, and a touch of the fantastical. The play leaves it delightfully ambiguous—perhaps Harvey is just a figment of Elwood’s worldview, or maybe, just maybe, the six-foot-tall rabbit is more real than anyone dares to admit.At the end of the day, Harvey is the kind of play that reminds us life is better when we leave a little room for the unexpected—especially if the unexpected happens to be a well-mannered, invisible rabbit. If you get a chance to see this production, take it. You might just find yourself raising a toast to the unseen, the unconventional, and the utterly delightful.

How to Get Tickets

Performances of Harvey run from February 28 to March 9, 2025, at the California Theatre in Pittsburg, CA.

Tickets are priced at $22-$30 and can be purchased online at www.tickets831.com or by calling 925-427-1611.

Better yet, consider becoming a season ticket subscriber and enjoy Pittsburg Theatre Company’s full 2025 season, which includes Harvey, Chicago, and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.

Waste

By Joseph Cillo

 

Scandal, Politics, and Power Plays

Once deemed too scandalous for the stage, Waste, Harley Granville-Barker’s 1906 political drama, is back—and it still packs a punch. Running through March 2 at Marin Theatre, this revival, directed by former A.C.T. Artistic Director Carey Perloff, wrestles with ambition, scandal, and downfall in a way that feels eerily familiar.

At its core, Waste follows Henry Trebell (played by Marin Theatre Artistic Director Lance Gardner), a fiercely ambitious politician on the brink of reshaping England’s education system by stripping the church’s influence from public schools. Trebell is relentless, methodical, and principled—until his private life implodes. A careless affair with neglected socialite Amy O’Connell (Liz Sklar) leads to an unintended pregnancy and a botched abortion, triggering a scandal that shatters his career overnight.

The production leans into stark minimalism, with scenic designer Arnel Sancianco crafting an austere, almost clinical setting—a fitting backdrop for the ruthless world of politics. Trebell’s so-called allies, including Lord Horsham (Daniel Cantor) and Midlands politician Blackborough (Mike Ryan), waste no time in cutting him loose the moment he becomes a liability.

There’s no denying Waste’s intellectual heft. But it’s a play where talk dominates action, and that won’t be for everyone. The opening act’s 30-minute seduction scene—more verbal chess match than sizzling romance—unfolds at a deliberate pace, testing the patience of modern audiences. From there, the drama becomes a series of high-minded debates on power, ethics, and governance as men in suits coldly discuss Trebell’s fate.

Despite this, the cast delivers performances that keep the energy from stagnating. Gardner brings gravity to Trebell’s unraveling, while Sklar’s Amy is more than just a plot device—she’s a woman caught in a system designed to discard her. Anthony Fusco commands the stage as Charles Cantelupe, the church’s mouthpiece, while Jomar Tagatac’s Dr. Wedgecroft injects rare moments of warmth. Leontyne Mbele-Mbong, as Trebell’s sister Frances, brings a quiet but powerful emotional undercurrent to the tragedy.Christine Adaire’s dialect coaching and Maggie Whitaker’s period-accurate costumes add polish, but Waste never quite shakes its sense of detachment. The weighty discussions unfold in crisp, measured tones—high drama for the mind, but not always the heart. It’s an intriguing study of how political and social norms evolve, but don’t expect a pulse-racing spectacle.

What was once a career-ending scandal—adultery and abortion—is now part of daily news cycles, making Waste feel both historically distant and oddly relevant. Fans of period dramas rich in political and philosophical debates will relish the experience. For others, its slow-burn intensity and verbose style may be more of a test than a treat.

One unexpected highlight? Marin Theatre’s lobby display. Jason Sheldrick’s sculptural installation on banned plays, along with striking artwork by Erica Deeman and Maeve O’Sullivan, adds an extra layer of depth to the evening—well worth arriving early to take in.

To Experience:
Waste
Marin Theatre, 397 Miller Ave., Mill Valley
Through March 2; 7:30 pm Wednesdays – Saturdays; 2 pm weekends
Tickets: $10 – $85
Info: (415) 388-5208 MarinTheatre

Reviewed by
Mary Buttaro
Mary Buttaro
Performing Arts Reviewer
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Exotic Deadly: or the MSG Play

By Joseph Cillo

 

Theatrical Umami Bomb

Folks, if you’ve ever worried that your Chinese takeout is secretly brainwashing you, Exotic Deadly: Or The MSG Play might just blow your mind—or at least your taste buds. Keiko Green’s raucous, time-hopping, anime-fueled comedy, now at San Francisco Playhouse through March 8, takes a deep dive into one of America’s strangest food myths. And let me tell you, this show is as wild as a 3 a.m. ramen binge.

It’s 1999. Ami, a Japanese American high schooler with a knack for awkwardness (played with hilarious sincerity by Ana Ming Bostwick-Singer), finds out that her family played a role in creating MSG—the much-maligned seasoning that has fueled urban legends. Her quest to clear her family’s name takes a surreal turn when a mysterious and effortlessly cool new girl from Japan arrives. What unfolds is a hilariously chaotic and deeply resonant journey through teenage anxieties, family legacies, and, yes, the unexpected magic of instant ramen.

This cast? They’ve got chops (and not just the kind you eat). James Aaron Oh, Nicole Tung, Phil Wong, and Edric Young flip between characters faster than a late-night channel surfer, bringing the play’s rollercoaster of chaos to life. Director Jesca Prudencio keeps the energy high, the comedy sharp, and the sentiment sneaky—just when you think you’re watching a goofy teen adventure, bam, you’re contemplating identity, history, and why people think MSG is some kind of chemical boogeyman.

Visually, this thing is a feast. Heather Kenyon’s set design spins between school hallways and anime dreamscapes, Michael Oesch’s lighting zips from fluorescent to fantastical, and Kathleen Qiu’s costumes serve up vintage 90s nostalgia with a side of comic-book flair. It’s like someone took a Saturday morning cartoon, a sci-fi flick, and a coming-of-age drama, tossed them in a wok, and cranked the heat to high.

But here’s the real kicker: this play has bite. Green’s script is whip-smart, poking at cultural anxieties, generational misunderstandings, and the weird stuff we believe just because someone once told us to. (MSG bad? Says who? Probably the same guy who thinks gum stays in your stomach for seven years.)

Playing through March 8, 2025
San Francisco Playhouse, 450 Post Street, San Francisco
Tickets: $35-$135 | Get Tickets | Call 415-677-9596 to purchase by phone.

New! Audio Described Performance

For blind and visually impaired audience members, San Francisco Playhouse is offering live audio description and a haptic access tour on Sunday, March 2nd at 2 P.M.

So, should you see Exotic Deadly? Let’s put it this way: If you like your theater fast, funny, and just a little off-kilter (in the best way possible), grab your ticket before they vanish like a bowl of late-night ramen.

Groundhog Day: The Musical

By Joseph Cillo

 

A Time Loop You’ll Actually Enjoy

There are two kinds of time loops. The kind where you wake up, brush your teeth, drink coffee, and do the same old thing until the sun explodes. And then there’s Groundhog Day: The Musical, where waking up to the same day over and over turns out to be a wildly entertaining, knee-slapping, show-stopping event.

Phil Connors, a weatherman with the charm of a wet sock and the patience of a raccoon in a garbage can, gets sent to Punxsutawney to cover the annual Groundhog Day festivities. He’s smug. He’s rude. He’s got the enthusiasm of a DMV clerk on hour six of their shift. And then—just his luck—he gets stuck in a cosmic do-over, reliving February 2nd again and again and again. What follows is a masterclass in poor decision-making, minor crimes, existential dread, and—eventually—personal growth.

Now, turning repetition into great entertainment takes skill, and this cast has it in spades. Garet Waterhouse, who took on the role of Phil Connors the night I attended, was worth the price of admission alone. His performance was sharp, witty, and full of the kind of energy needed to make Phil’s transformation believable. From his deadpan sarcasm in the opening scenes to his full-throttle commitment in the tap-dancing showstopper “Philanthropy,” Waterhouse commanded the stage with precision and charisma. Michelle Pagano played the steadfast and sharp producer Rita Hanson, keeping Phil on his toes.

This is a BIG production with a BIG cast, so you get a lot of bang for your buck! The ensemble was outstanding, filling the stage with vibrant energy and making every moment feel larger than life. Even as the same day repeated over and over, their dynamic performances ensured that no scene ever felt stale.

And just when things seem like they can’t get any better, along comes a tap-dancing number so synchronized, so electrifying, that audience members have been known to spontaneously combust with delight. (Well, not known known, but it could happen.)


ACT I: A Day That Won’t End

From the start, Groundhog Day hooks the audience with an energetic overture, setting the scene for the endlessly looping chaos to follow. The show launches into “There Will Be Sun”, a cheerful ensemble number that captures the Punxsutawney locals’ excitement about their favorite holiday. Phil, of course, is less enthused, and his sarcastic outlook is laid bare in “Day One”, a duet with Rita and the company, which humorously introduces his disdain for everything around him.

But then the time loop begins. The audience is pulled into the absurdity of Phil’s predicament as he cycles through “Day Two” and “Day Three”, each iteration growing more frantic. His frustration explodes in “Stuck”, where he desperately tries to escape the loop to no avail. His attempts to find meaning—or at least amusement—lead to “Nobody Cares”, a raucous drinking song featuring Gus, Ralph, and a very intoxicated Phil embracing the pointlessness of it all.

As Phil realizes he can act without consequence, the show shifts into the mischievous “Philandering”, where he indulges in every possible vice. But then, a glimmer of hope emerges in “One Day”, where Rita and Phil share a moment that suggests there might be a way out of this mess—if only Phil can figure out how.


ACT II: Finding a Way Forward

The second act kicks off with an Entr’acte, bringing the audience back into the swirling madness of Phil’s endless February 2nd. His shallow lifestyle starts to wear thin in “Playing Nancy”, where Nancy, one of the townspeople, reflects on the role she plays in Phil’s repeating story.

Phil’s journey toward self-discovery gains momentum in “Hope”, where he begins experimenting with different ways to live each day. His emotional shift is marked by “Everything About You”, where he starts seeing Rita—and life itself—through a new lens. The heartfelt “If I Had My Time Again”, a duet between Phil and Rita, captures the idea that perhaps a do-over isn’t such a bad thing if it’s done for the right reasons.

Then comes the tap-dancing spectacle of the night: “Philanthropy.” This number is the turning point in Phil’s transformation. Having embraced his endless February 2nd as an opportunity to help others, Phil dashes around town performing good deeds—rescuing townspeople, preventing accidents, and generally being the Punxsutawney superhero no one asked for but everyone needs. The stage explodes into a high-energy tap dance routine, featuring Phil and the ensemble, in a synchronized, electrifying sequence that showcases both the sheer talent of the cast and the show’s Broadway-level spectacle. Waterhouse threw himself into the number with the kind of commitment that makes an audience sit up and say, Now, that’s impressive.

Just when it seems like Phil might be getting it right, the mood darkens in “Night Will Come”, a haunting solo by Ned Ryerson that underscores the weight of time slipping away. But Phil pushes forward, using his knowledge to help others in “Philanthropy”, and by the time “Punxsutawney Rock” rolls around, he’s leading the town with newfound purpose.

The final emotional punch lands in “Seeing You”, as Phil at last learns the lesson the universe has been trying to teach him. And as the curtain closes with “Dawn”, the audience is left with a sense of triumph—because this time, Phil really has made it to February 3rd.


Show Details & How to Get Tickets:

Venue: 6th Street Playhouse, GK Hardt Theatre, Santa Rosa
Dates: Through February 23, 2025

Get Tickets: Visit 6thstreetplayhouse.com or call (707) 523-4185 for tickets and pricing details.

Run Time: Approx. 2 hours, 30 minutes (including intermission)
Content Warning: Some mature language, action, and themes. Parental discretion advised for patrons under 13.

The role of Phil Connors is played on alternating nights by:

  • Garet Waterhouse: 1/30, 2/1, 2/7, 2/8, 2/13, 2/15, 2/20, 2/22 (matinee), 2/23
  • Nelson Brown: 1/31, 2/2 (matinee), 2/6, 2/8 (evening), 2/14, 2/15 (matinee), 2/16 (matinee), 2/21, 2/22 (evening)

Final Thought:

Some shows entertain. Some shows dazzle. And then there are the rare ones that do both while making you rethink how you spend your own days. Groundhog Day: The Musical isn’t just a comedy—it’s a cleverly crafted spectacle packed with humor, heart, and high-energy performances.

With a stellar cast, sharp direction, and musical numbers that stay with you long after the curtain falls, this production proves that sometimes, getting stuck in the same day over and over might not be so bad—especially if it means seeing a show this good more than once.

 

P.S. Having just re-seen the original Groundhog Day movie, I’m struck by how well the musical captures its charm while adding fresh theatrical energy. Bill Murray’s iconic Phil Connors set the bar high, but the stage adaptation brings its own magic, especially with the added musical numbers and ensemble-driven storytelling. Fans of the movie will appreciate the clever nods while enjoying new layers of depth in this live performance