Woody Weingarten

(L-R) Willy Loman, played by Charles Queary, listens to his sorrowful son, Biff, played by Brennan Pickman-Thoon, as the younger son, Happy, played by Evan Held, observes in Ross Valley Players’ production of “Death of a Salesman,” playing at the Barn Theater in Ross, Calif., through Sunday, Oct. 25, 2026. (Robin Jackson via Bay City News)

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

“Death of a Salesman” spotlights many contradictions that exist at the same time — reality and illusion, self-puffery and self-denigration, sensitivity and insensitivity, among them.

It therefore seems appropriate to quote a pair of theatergoers leaving a recent Saturday matinee of the Ross Valley Players’ production. She, a plus-one who hadn’t seen the tragedy before: “That was painful to watch.” He, a theater buff: “That was one of the best productions of anything in the Bay Area this year.”

Both agree that Charles Queary is a spectacular Willy Loman, playwright Arthur Miller’s main character in the tragedy, smoothly switching from love to anger, from hubris to confusion, and displaying a string of other emotions.

His consistent brain fog, as he descends further into what was then called senility and is now known as dementia, is symbolized by smoke rising from a set designed by Ron Krempetz that creatively features the skeleton of a house.

Howard, played by William Brosnahan, left, fires Willy Loman, played by Charles Queary, right, in Ross Valley Players’ production of “Death of a Salesman,” playing at the Barn Theater in Ross, Calif., through Sunday, Oct. 25, 2026. (Robin Jackson via Bay City News)

Willy never quite loses his mind — despite being suicidal — but does often lose himself via dreams, “daymares,” and hallucinations.

The character, in fact, is a perfect foil at age 63 for the playwright to metaphorically express disdain for capitalism and the American dream, both of which Willy and his sons believe offer most of the population false hopes before junking and crushing them.

Willy has represented a middle-class everyman since 1949, when “Death of a Salesman” debuted on Broadway with Lee J. Cobb in the role only a decade after the United States was in the midst of the Great Depression.

The Pulitzer Prize-winning play is still relevant — with a handful of striking exceptions like a reference to something costing a nickel — to a nation in which polls insist the majority is fed up with President Donald Trump’s erratic tariffs and resultant high prices at the pump and supermarket, an endless war, and over-reaching deportation policies.

This play is not the kind you might normally expect at the Barn Theater at the Marin Art and Garden Center in Ross, or any other community theater, since those audiences lean toward old-fashioned drawing-room comedies and nearly new jukebox musicals.

The evergreen drama, a Tony-winner for best play, is set in 1940s Brooklyn, with costumes by Valera Coble pulling theatergoers back there almost instantly.

Willy, after 34 years of loyalty, is fired from his traveling salesman job by Howard (played short-temperedly by William Brosnahan), the son of the man who originally hired him.

That identical 34-year timeframe is also the age of Willy’s older son, Biff (portrayed with bravado and weakness by Brennan Pickman-Thoon).

Willy’s younger son, Happy (played by Evan Held as a man who has bigger dreams for his brother than himself), fills out the male triangle in a play that at times resembles a Greek or Shakespearean tragedy.

Willy Loman, played by Charles Queary, left, borrows money from Charley, played by Steve Price, right, Loman’s neighbor and wannabe friend in Ross Valley Players’ production of “Death of a Salesman,” playing at the Barn Theater in Ross, Calif., through Sunday, Oct. 25, 2026. (Robin Jackson via Bay City News)

The crowd at the Barn becomes so spellbound that it didn’t seem to mind that two understudies are carrying scripts in their hands: Amanda Vitiello as Linda Loman, Willy’s supportive and understanding wife, and Greg Wilker as Ben, Willy’s brother who supposedly trekked into the jungle and four years later came out rich with diamonds.

But the audience does take every opportunity to periodically laugh out loud, a relief from the perpetual tension on stage.

The production’s director, Adrian Elfenbaum, keeps tons of dialogue moving so easily that nearly three hours pass without the audience craving a trim to the time length.

Miller has a knack of summing up his characters’ discontent with a few words. For instance:

• Happy, a hopeless womanizer, laments to brother Biff: “It’s what I always wanted. My own apartment, a car, and plenty of women. And still, goddammit, I’m lonely.”

• Biff opens up to his father Willy: “Why am I trying to become what I don’t want to be?”

• Willy talks to his wife Linda: “Work a lifetime to pay off a house. You finally own it, and there’s nobody to live in it.”

• Linda pleading with her sons about Willy: “Be sweet to him, be loving to him, because he’s just a little boat looking for a harbor.”

Sometimes there’s a brief soliloquy that also conveys a great deal, such as Biff talking to his younger brother about his ambivalence with the American dream: “To get on that subway on the hot mornings in summer. To devote your whole life to keeping stock, or making phone calls, or selling or buying. To suffer 50 weeks of the year for the sake of a two-week vacation, when all you really desire is to be outdoors, with your shirt off. And always to have to get ahead of the next fella. And still — that’s how you build a future.”

All things considered, this “Death of a Salesman” is surely a “must-see.”

The Ross Valley Players production of “Death of a Salesman” plays at the Barn Theater, 30 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Ross, through Oct. 25. Tickets from $30 to $45 can be purchased online at www.rossvalleyplayers.com or calling 415-456-9555.

Woody Weingarten can be contacted via www.woodyweingarten.com or www.vitalitypress.com or www.voodee@sbcglobal.net.

Woody Weingarten

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Last year’s a cappella champions, Smoke Ring, who acted as host of the 41st annual Harmony Sweepstakes.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

The national finals of the 41st annual Harmony Sweepstakes, an a cappella festival, proved Saturday night just how exquisite an instrument the vocal cords of soloists for many disparate groups can be.

Ditto the blended notes, traditional and modern, of a barber shop quartet. Or those from a sextet. Or an octet. Or a 12-member ensemble.

The highly entertaining 2¼-hour event in the Marin Center’s exhibit hall was repeatedly filled with horn-like, drum-like, and bass-like human vocals. Moreover, with jazz and hip-hop and romantic ballads.

Every bit of it harmonious. With one or two moments of exception, all upbeat and fun.

If there were any doubt, all one had to do was look at virtually any face in the vanilla 600-member audience to see a perma-smile the music imprinted on it.

Their pleasure, of course, may also have been due to the absence of gangsta rap, rape allusions, and f-bombs, or political bullet points about headline violence.

The finalists, from four areas of the United States, each crammed as many songs as they could in 12 minutes. All of them made sure to insert humor.

A fifth regional winner, the Bookmarks, a mid-Atlantic sextet, was supposed to appear but was kept from attending by our federal government, which blocked members’ visas.

The new national a cappella champs, Linc 182.

A panel of four judges, each with a different specialty, jointly picked Linc 182, from the Chicago district, as the 2026 sweepstakes winner. The group stood out partially because its tenor was 14-year-old Lincoln Beutel, son of the baritone, Tim Beutel. The teen’s actually been singing with the quartet since he was 10.

The group showed how bouncy an a cappella song could be when it performed “My Girl.” But its most memorable tune — “When Words Fail” — was laugh-out-loud funny and poignant at the same time. It starred a single long-stemmed flower.Mountain division winners hailed, was judged to be the best regional arrangement. The five women and three men also provided something different, gospel-like vibes that included the idea of “got me in chains.”

Coda Conduct, with a dozen singers whose choreography was particularly impressive, represented the Bay Area. Some of its lyrics were muffled, unfortunately, an anomaly for the evening.

The 7th Variety, yet another barbershop quartet, this one from Orange County, was the jazziest entry, also coloring songs with its “doo dah, doo dah, do wop” trope. Their top lyric centered on a long search for “a major chord.”

The show’s emcee was Paul Nathan, who’s appeared on HBO and in Eddie Murphy’s film, Dr. Doolittle. He inserted his own brand of cleverness and prestidigitation — and used a competition cliché when announcing the winners. It was really close, said the balding, salt-and-pepper-bearded guy.

That, in truth, was no surprise because all the groups had signature pieces that were outstanding.

Nathan’s schtick was accented playfully by a little girl named Alice that he invited on stage as a stooge for his magic tricks. Although the emcee was skillful, the kid turned out to be funnier — especially when she tried to high-five him as he towered over her.

“Special guests.” from Sacramento, were Outta the Vox, who had been an opening act for Foreigner. Their finger-snapping was unique, as was the “time-keeper” at the end of their line whose always in-motion right hand sometime resembled a beat-box tool, sometimes an air-guitar.

The crowd went wild, meanwhile, when the 11 group members performed “Jolene” as a foot-stomping tribute to the recently deceased Dolly Parton, proof that a country tune about husband-stealing can fit well into an a cappella gathering.

But perhaps the best group to perform was last year’s national champs, Smoke Ring, a mixed voice barbershop and contemporary a cappella quartet based in New York. They wore tight black costumes with an abundance of leather, the most striking outfits to appear on stage (men of many groups wore boring suits ties, and vests, with the women clad in floor-length skirts or gowns).

The Harmony Sweepstakes was the original brainstorm of San Anselmo-based John Neal, now president of Primarily A Cappella, “the nation’s leading vendor of a cappella music including recordings, arrangements, DVDs, songbooks and instructional material for singers.”

All told, he can be held responsible for truckloads of good music and comedy and memories. Enough of each, in fact, to last a year, until the 42nd annual sweepstakes rolls around.

Woody Weingarten, a longtime voting member of the San Francisco Bay Area Theater Critics Circle, can be contacted via his website, https://woodyweingarten.com, his email — voodee@sbcglobal.net — or his other website, https://vitalitypress.com. His four books include Rollercoaster: How a caregiver can survive a partner’s breast cancer or any other lethal disease; MysteryDates — How to keep the sizzle in your relationship; The Roving I, a compilation of 70 of his newspaper columns; and Grampy and His Fairyzona Playmates, a whimsical fantasy intended for 6- to 10-year-olds that he co-authored with his then 8-year-old granddaughter.

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John Turturro as Harry in The Only Living Pickpocket in New York.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

The Only Living Pickpocket in New York is easy to review — because it features a tour de force performance by John Turturro, famed for his understated roles in Coen Brothers and Spike Lee films and for his Emmy-winning tenure on the TV series Monk.

For the full hour and 28 minutes of this new gritty crime drama, he, as low-level pickpocket Harry Lehman, is either shifty-eyed or fearful but either way, moviegoers aren’t expected to lift their eyes from him.

So we watch in awe as his hands slip into a variety of pockets while he surreptitiously watches everyone else. And we witness the jumpstart of his real trouble shortly after he lifts an apparently valuable USB drive from Dylan, wealthy Gen-Z son of a mob boss.

It’s unclear what’s on it, but it’s clear that Dylan and his cronies want it back. Desperately.

The wild, menacing young men threaten him, saying “there’s no comin’ back from this,” and then also threaten his “old lady” if the USB stick isn’t returned — a trigger for a frenzied do-or-die backtracking with a series of offbeat characters, including Steve Buscemi as Benny, pawnbroker/friend and fence.

During that journey, viewers revel in shots of New York City, not the predictable shots of the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, and Brooklyn and George Washington bridges but, instead, extraordinary shots of ordinary neighborhoods in each of the city’s five boroughs, images that truly provide a sense of the city.

Those insightful views contrast sharply with, at the beginning of the lyrics of a song that softly blankets the action, “New York, I love you, but you’re bringing me down.”

The suspensefully hypnotic film, which has several twists, is not without humor — such as when Harry meaningfully sits on his hands while talking and laughing with longtime friend, NYPD Detective Allan Warren (played by Giancarlo Esposito), and even more so when he catches a wannabe crook trying to pick the pocket of his expensive cashmere coat. He grabs the guy’s hand and instantly gives him a tutorial in how to do it right.

Turturro, who many believe will be nominated for an Oscar for this role, which would be his first nomination, runs a gamut of emotions as an old-style pickpocket struggling to make ends meet.

He is sad, for instance, because his potential marks no longer carry wads of cash but only credit cards that can typically be cancelled with little disruption of their lives. And they wear Timex-priced watches instead of Rolexes.

He is extremely loving, poignant, and uptight when dealing with his bedridden, disabled wife, Rosie (Karina Arroyave). He carries her up the stairs when their building’s elevator is on the blink. He holds her hands, brushes her hair, talks to her even though she can’t talk back, cooks noodle soup. And when he goes out, he pays a neighbor to look after her.

Turturro, a native of Brooklyn, and Harry, who’s being digitally stalked, complement each other.

Says Harry in the Sony Pictures Classics film that’s deftly directed by Noah Segan, “I’ve had a good life…What matters is what you did with the time you had. I spent my life in people’s pockets.”

The Only Living Pickpocket in New York, elaborates Turturro, is a “tense kind of thriller…and at the same time…all this human delicacy and gentleness.”

The movie, the world premiere of which was at Sundance, where it was a crowd favorite, was also shown at the recent Mill Valley Film Festival. It’s scored in the high 90th percentile for both critics and public on the Rotten Tomatoes website.

The Only Living Pickpocket in New York will have a free Bay Area screening at a 7 p.m. Oct. 21 AARP event, for which registration is required, and will screen the same day at the Sonoma International Film Festival. It will open in Los Angeles and New York City on Oct. 23, and across the country Oct. 30, including AMC Metreon 16 in San Francisco, AMC Bay Street 16 in Emeryville, and Cinemark Century Daily City.

Woody Weingarten, a longtime voting member of the San Francisco Bay Area Theater Critics Circle, can be contacted via his website, https://woodyweingarten.com, his email — voodee@sbcglobal.net — or his other website, https://vitalitypress.com. His four books include Rollercoaster: How a caregiver can survive a partner’s breast cancer or any other lethal disease; MysteryDates — How to keep the sizzle in your relationship; The Roving I, a compilation of 70 of his newspaper columns; and Grampy and His Fairyzona Playmates, a whimsical fantasy intended for 6- to 10-year-olds that he co-authored with his then 8-year-old granddaughter.

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One of countless surreal moments in The Fall Show. Photo by Ben Krantz.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

The marquee of the Ashby Stage in Berkeley gives away what the premiere performance of The Fall Show is all about: A surreal love story.

The theatrical mosaic leaps again and again from imaginative prop to unusually choreographed movement, often successfully exhibiting chaos and mania.

And it’s accented as if famed Belgian artist René Magritte snuck in and taught the actors how to recreate his famous paintings in living form.

Didn’t happen. The show’s the joint work of playwright “Chuck” Mee, who specializes in collage-like constructs, and skillful co-creator/director/choreographer Erika Chong Shuch. They’d swear, in fact, they created it rather than wrote it, across the country from each other, as the unique project evolved. Mee was in New York mostly providing stage directions and Shuch was in San Francisco sculpting the production. They “talked” by text.

So, start with such visual and sound tidbits as actors tossing around piles of maple leaves, smashing multiple plates (with joyous anger), and raising enough voices to become a symphony of screams.

Add an almost linear storyline with two older, lonely main characters, Eddie and Sam, inhabited by remarkable, mostly-understated actors, Beth Wilmurt (replete with AARP magazine) and Reginald Wilkins (replete with purposeful indecision). Their energy contrasts exquisitely with the crazed, most often in-motion group of six that surrounds them, a couple sporting Magritte-like black derby hats.

Tender moment between Reginald Wilkins (Sam) and Beth Wilburn (Eddie).

Her aggressiveness contrasts with his being laid back. Fodder enough for a volatile, tenuous relationship? Perfect for any audience member who wants to relate to his, hers, or their own? Yep!

Each member of the ensemble seems well cast, by the way, none more so than longtime Joe Goode dancer Marit Brook-Kothlow, who best shows her chops in a set-piece of improvised wildness in an improvised, oversized couch.

Need more minutia?

Maybe your seatmate knows why the center-stage barren tree has one green leaf near its peak. Or why an onstage pianist is pounding out German composerLudwig van Beethoven at his loudest. Or why four doors keep opening and slamming? Or why it’s necessary for a leaf-blower to aim at human beings.

Or how Wilmurt, who’s also the music director and vocal arranger, is able to so smoothly insert recorded tunes that so delightfully mesh with what’s on stage. Or why it’s necessary to learn how not to lie.

What there isn’t is cliches or bumper stickers or many f- bombs. What there is are burnt toast and burnt barbecue gloves; one of the longest intentional pauses ever seen on stage; a mic cord that can morph into a sexual device; the genderless, race-ignored crew that also tests out loving relationships and may (or may not) represent the inner thoughts and feelings of the couple; plus lots of hidden-meaning stuff and familiar objects in unfamiliar contexts (yeah, there’s Magritte again).

Ergo, the show should contain enough wonderment and puzzlement to drag the most curious theatergoers back for another shot or two at figuring everything out.

Enough clever humor is sprinkled throughout to keep the biggest sourpuss grinning, but underneath the slapstick and weirdness can be found a hyper-serious examination of an honest but iffy relationship.

And just a smidgeon of sadness.

But despite world of tumult and human-heart difficulties, these words keep bouncing around in a viewer’s mind: tender, sweet, brilliant.

And the Ashby Stage marquee displays three others that summarize a good deal: Music. Movement. Magic.

Go! Enjoy!

The Fall Show will run on the Ashby Stage, 1901 Ashby Ave., Berkeley, through Nov. 1 (it was extended). Tickets: $40 to $80. Info:(https://shotgunplayers.org) or 510-841-6500.

Woody Weingarten, a longtime voting member of the San Francisco Bay Area Theater Critics Circle, can be contacted via his website, https://woodyweingarten.com, his email — voodee@sbcglobal.net — or his other website, https://vitalitypress.com. His four books include Rollercoaster: How a caregiver can survive a partner’s breast cancer or any other lethal disease; MysteryDates — How to keep the sizzle in your relationship; The Roving I, a compilation of 70 of his newspaper columns; and Grampy and His Fairyzona Playmates, a whimsical fantasy intended for 6- to 10-year-olds that he co-authored with his then 8-year-old granddaughter.

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Amy Seiwert

Michael Smuin

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

“French Kiss,” choreographed by artistic director Amy Seiwert in 2023, was the definitive hit of the San Francisco Opening Night concert of Smuin Contemporary Ballet, if Friday’s level of applause is used as a measuring device.

The light-hearted, liquid, and lovely dance — note-perfect to the music of Pink Martini — was smooth as satin yet filled with flavors: romantic, dramatic, traditional, modern, and hilarious.

It encompassed smile-inducing lifts and circles as well as sexy flashes and rather unusual butts-extended moments.

Best received was a comic sequence in which two manikins atop small platforms on wheels were pushed around by a pair of dancers.

Pink Martini is an eclectic American band that embraces jazz, classical, Latin, and pop — in 15 languages.

Seiwert, in the program, writes that the ballet pays homage to the “signature style” of company founder Michael Smuin, who died two decades ago, by being “rich in characterization” and celebrating “the individuality of Smuin’s dancers.”

In Friday’s introduction, Seiwert flippantly claimed her “French Kiss” crammed in “all I learned from Michael in 25 minutes.”

The presentation, in addition to loud applause, drew a hailstorm of encouraging and appreciative “woo” cries from the audience.

Another truly awesome revival, “Stabat Mater,” was a Michael Smuin creation that dated to 2002 and was choreographed to the music of Antonin Dvořák. It hadn’t been staged in the Bay Area in 10 years.

That stupendous ballet was Smuin’s dramatic response to the “death and pain” of 9/11 and featured lots of female bodies trustingly falling into the arms of male dancers. It met its intention of exploring “loss, the resilience of community, and, ultimately, hope.”

The third part of the concert was new — an experimental dance-salad choreographed by My’Kal Stromile, a triple threat who also was responsible for the costumes and stage design. It was, however, as odd as its title, “I-Scrit-Ah-Scree-Tah-Skratt,” which is an invented phonetic phrase, and almost as opaque as the choreographer’s official explanation in obfuscation-speak.

Its music was by Wilhem Friedemann Bach, the oldest son of Johann Sebastian Bach, replete with choral that’s a knock-out.

Still, most of the dance segments felt as if they were unfinished fragments, perhaps intentionally. Some concertgoers, in fact, probably found it difficult to perceive exactly what was being portrayed.

In contrast, the company’s program was enlightening in many ways. It showed, for instance, how many behind-the-scenes people are necessary to keep the dancers in good shape. It listed a wellness team with eight orthopedic and physical therapy doctors, three chiropractors, four acupuncturists, and two massage therapists.

All, of course, were also available to keep the company healthy for previous performances in Mountain View and Walnut Creek.

Obviously, it’s worth any trouble.

French Kiss will run at the 437-seat waterfront Cowell Theater at Fort Mason, 2 Marina Blvd., San Francisco, through Oct. 18. Tickets: $25 to $100. Info: 415-912-1899 or boxoffice@smuinballet.org.

Woody Weingarten, a longtime voting member of the San Francisco Bay Area Theater Critics Circle, can be contacted by email at voodee@sbcglobal.net or on his websites, https://woodyweingarten.com and https://vitalitypress.com. His books include Rollercoaster: How a caregiver can survive a partner’s breast cancer or any other lethal disease; MysteryDates — How to keep the sizzle in your relationship; The Roving I, a compilation of 70 of his newspaper columns; and Grampy and His Fairyzona Playmates, a whimsical fantasy intended for 6- to 10-year-olds that he co-authored with his then 8-year-old granddaughter.

Woody Weingarten

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Jump-rope dance is a showstopper in ‘Legally Blonde The Musical’ at the Berkeley Playhouse. Photo copyright Thomas Campitelli/Berkeley Playhouse.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

Choreography by Cat Delos Santos Reyes, often sidesplittingly funny, usually with the highest energy possible, became the primo star of the Berkeley Playhouse’s presentation of Legally Blonde The Musical.

A dance between two gay men, in fact, was once of three showstoppers at a recent Sunday matinee that drew full-throated laughs, roaring cheers, and heavy applause.

In-sync jump-rope dancing to “Whipped into Shape” was a definite eye popper that didn’t stop, and three damsels in white togas representing a Greek chorus emerged as the epitome of silliness.

Elizabeth Curtis, in the role of Paulette, hair stylist with a hard edge, a soft heart, and a longing for Ireland,  ran a musical gamut from hilarious to poignant. “She’s funnier than Jennifer Coolidge was in the  movie,” an older woman in the audience called to after one bit.

Curtis showed off her comic chops in both solo bits and in conjunction with Adam Mendez Jr. as Kyle, a burly UPS deliveryman who stalked her lovingly i the second act. Rollickingly amusing!

Vivienne, portrayed perfectly by the mellifluous singer Grace Margaret Craig, was the character who changed the most — from snarky, stuck-up boyfriend poacher to warm activist supporter of females.

Major diversity in actors’ size and skin color was a definite plus.

The central character, Elle Woods, pink-garbed UCLA sorority sister cum Harvard Law student who finds ways to do things her individualistic way and still succeed, normally steals the show. Here, however, Ayani Dorsey’s high-pitched voice didn’t fit her mic well so her words — sung and spoken — were often difficult to make out.

Although the dark-skinned Dorsey wore a curl-heavy blonde wig and a perma-smile through most of the campy two-act, two-hour show, she didn’t quite inject the quirkiness remembered from the fire-cracking Reese Witherspoon role in the original 2007 film comedy.

And while male characters’ tones were clear because of their lower registers, difficulty discerning lyrics also happened in several chorus numbers (though amazing dance moves tended to overshadow that flaw).

Elle Woods (Ayana Dorsey, center) celebrates an insight as her sorority sisters egg her on. Photo copyright by Thomas Campitelli/Berkeley Playhouse.

Humor, from Heather Hach’s book, was frequent. And — yippie! — none of the jokes depended on f-bombs.

Welcome too, drawing smiles each time they were on stage, were too pooches: Latke, a Pomeranian normally carried in Elle’s purse and dubbed Bruiser in the show, and Stella, a French bulldog mix who, as Rufus, was trotted around by Kyle. Neither yipped nor barked, neither wet or soiled the stage. Good doggies! Instagram — quick!

Hey, don’t make the mistake thinking Legally Blonde is only fluff ‘n’ stuff and as sugary as cotton candy.  Underlying the unsubtle modern fairytale are questions of feminism and sexism, identity, self-worth, authenticity, and how to navigate a relationship — all tucked neatly into a musical extravaganza spotlighting glitzy costumes by Ashlee Renee and fast-moving backdrops by scenic designer Sarah Phykitt (including an imaginative center-stage door to nowhere).

No’eau Kahalekulu, in her main stage directorial debut, makes sure everything moves at a lightning pace, with exceptions like “Blood in the Water,” a brooding satire that illustrates how lawyers become sharks.

The musical, which opened on Broadway in 2007, contains 20 numbers including three reprises), staring with the incredibly bouncy “Oh My God.” They’re mainly jukebox pop tunes with touches of hip-hop — music and lyrics by Laurence O’Keefe and Nell Benjamin — virtually guaranteed to make theatergoers feel good.

Proof? Well, a raft of pre-pubescent girls who filled about ut a third of the seats happily chatted up a storm while shaking their bottoms and hips in the aisles as they left.

Legally Blonde The Musical will run at the Berkeley Playhouse, 2640 College Ave., Berkeley, through Oct. 18 (it’s been extended). Tickets: $19 to $56 (plus a $3.95 ticketing fee). Info: 510-845-8542 or www.berkeleyplayouse.org.

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Bulk of cast of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee at Novato Theater Company. Photo by Jere Torkelsen.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

Some may attend The Novato Theater Company’s The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee expecting less than perfect performances, mistakes, and unclear words because it’s a community theater production.

They’ll be deliciously surprised. The show’s phenomenal, on any level anyone might judge.

No bad performances. No screw-ups. No muffled words.

The fun begins with the first song and continues throughout. It’s most clearly shown through the limber, Ray Bolger-like legs of Dominic Marco Canty as speller William Morris Barfée; the wild-eyed, pigtailed Carly Harrington (inhabiting the body of Logainne “Schwartzy” SchwartzandGruenierre, daughter of two dads who’s an endless activist for this cause and that); and Marlee Ostrom, who with flying red cape and yellow helmet zips back and forth in her gender-bending role as Leaf Coneybear.

The rest of the nine-member ensemble acquit themselves marvelously well, not missing an opportunity to make the perma-smile on audience faces deepen.

Nicole Stanley (center) communicates with spirits of absent parents, Dani Innocenti Beem and Nick James Augusta. Photo by Jere Torkelsen.

Best of the 24 musical numbers include “My Favorite Moment of the Bee,” a three-part tune by Dani Innocenti-Beem as Rona Lisa Peetti, past winner and bee host, and “The I Love You Song,” poignantly sung by Nicole Stanley as Olive Ostrovsky, with her typically absent parents joining her in a cameo at tune’s end.

The 25th Annual… features a handful of role-changing cameos, in fact, by actors doubling or tripling their personas. And, similarly, Marilyn Izdebski is her usual triple threat, fashioning the sprightly choreography, casting the production along with the director and music conductor, and overseeing the consistently unobtrusive but effective lighting (except when it flashes frenziedly during “Pandemonium”).

The Tony Award-winning show, which ran on Broadway from 2005 to 2008, starts in Novato by displaying bursts of energy, an aspect that will be emphasized throughout. Original lyrics and book, which explore contestants’ inner hopes, feelings, identities, and home life, are by Rachel Sheinkin. William Finn composed the music. Christopher Hewitt artistically conducts three other musicians and plays keyboards for this rendition, making sure the rhythms don’t override the ubiquitous wit, puns, and physical comedy.

Director Larry Williams has ensured that, at any given moment, the quirky, caricature-like characters are extremely bug-eyed with wonder or forlornly tight-lipped.

Four audience volunteers are — surprise! — smoothly added to the spellers’ lineup (and, as might be expected, equally smoothly eliminated one by one by impossibly difficult words).

Some set-pieces are ecstatically gleeful — such as a Pledge of Allegiance in which no two kids are on the same page; a boy eliminated because he’s crushing on a girl in the crowd and awkwardly hiding his erection (which he gloriously sings about); and a personal appearance by Jesus.

Joyous, too, are some character delineations: The boy who spells out the words on the floor with his “magic foot” and a girl who spells them out on her forearm.

And local viewers can’t help but grin at current references to Zandaya, GLP-1 weight-loss pills, and Donald J. Trump’s banning three progressive media outlets from the White House and proclaiming that “we should all spell the woke-iest words we can.”

The set, which immediately places theatergoers in a high school gym replete with grandstands, a scoreboard, a basketball hoop, and a bee-funding ad by local optometrists, was designed by Perry Nelson. Playful costumes by Christina Stephan and Cheryl Evans add to the exuberance evidenced by the cast.

Amazingly, unlike almost all Broadway extravaganzas, the 1¾-hour show totally avoids four-letter words (not counting love).

So remind me: How do you spell sluice? And fun?

The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee will run at the Novato Theater Company, 5420 Nave Drive, Novato, through Oct. 11. Tickets: $28.50 to $40.50 (plus $1.50 booking fee). Info: info@novatotheatercompany.org or 415-883-4498.

Woody Weingarten, a longtime voting member of the San Francisco Bay Area Theater Critics Circle, can be contacted by email at voodee@sbcglobal.net or on his websites, https://woodyweingarten.com and https://vitalitypress.com. His books include Rollercoaster: How a man can survive his partner’s breast cancer, aimed at male caregivers; MysteryDates — How to keep the sizzle in your relationship; The Roving I, a compilation of 70 of his newspaper columns; and Grampy and His Fairyzona Playmates, a whimsical fantasy intended for 6- to 10-year-olds that he co-authored with his then 8-year-old granddaughter.

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(L-R) Hannah Martínez-Crow as Dusty, Karla Acosta Ormond as Jean and Nicole Naffaa as Bernadette appear in The Royal Underground Theatre Company’s “POTUS: Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive” onstage in Berkeley through Sept. 27, 2026. (Jerianne Banson via Bay City News)

by Woody Weingarten, Bay City News

“POTUS: Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive,” onstage in Berkeley’s Live Oak Theater, may be just satirical enough, with its thinly veiled references to the current White House.

But the chaotic all-woman, two-act farce may be a tad too over-the-top. While it’s happily missing the rapid-fire slamming of doors, the foundation of farce, the characters bellowing and yelling at the same time is excessive.

Still, all seven performers are excellent.

The best part of the 1¾-hour show, presented by the Royal Underground Theatre Company, a “nomadic” Bay Area troupe established in 2002, is the slapstick of Stephanie, the beleaguered presidential secretary (played hysterically by Jules Weiss) and Dusty (played lustily as a “woke powderpuff” by Hannah Martinez-Crow).

(L-R) Jules Weiss as Stephanie, Michele Rabkin as Harriet and Asoula “Jasmine” Avegalio as Margaret, appear in The Royal Underground Theatre Company’s “POTUS: Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive.” (Jerianne Banson via Bay City News)

Stephanie, often stoned, wears minimal clothing and an oversized, patriotic life preserver around her waist, and abruptly spouts one of the five languages she speaks. Dusty, a jovial cheerleader-type, doesn’t let having been impregnated by POTUS (the president of the United States) stop her from doing the splits or trying to sexually service civilians as a way of helping the White House staff.

Some theatergoers might believe that playwright Selina Fillinger (a writer on Apple TV’s “The Morning Show”) conceived the story in a crowded sports bar or a makeshift homeless tent city. It’s based on the vulgar “c” word, which, in fact, is the play’s startling first word.

Each character is adept in her tasks. Some of the women even act as proxies for the offstage president —until West Wing pressures make them more than a little crazy.

Theatergoers who like tons of curse words will be happy, even though the barrage becomes unfunny and redundant by the second act. Those who love clever subtitles, exemplified by the one in this show, also will be happy, as will those seeking quarrels between co-workers that signify open rivalries and screwed up relationships.

Director Anna Oglesby-Smith keeps things tight throughout; audiences don’t know what the next twist, the next enabling action, the next invective, will be.

(L-R) Raven Douglas plays Chris, a reporter, and Asoula “Jasmine” Avegalio plays Margaret, the First Lady, in “POTUS: Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive.” (Jerianne Banson via Bay City News)

Jean, the overwrought, overwhelmed press secretary (played by Karla Acosta Ormond) has to deal with numerous makings of public relations nightmares: post-feminist fervor, the destruction of historically valuable statuary, frequent presidential sexual misbehavior, a conference on nuclear banning, an anal abscess, and all-too familiar political endorsements and photo ops.

There are outstanding performances by Michele Rabkin as Harriet, the mannish chief of staff who’s appropriately standoffish, until she completely loses it; and Asoula “Jasmine” Avegalio as Margaret, the over-educated First Lady who’s perfected a snarl and a sneer.

Nicole Naffaa as Bernadette, the president’s butch, drug-dealing sister, and Raven Douglas as Chris, a frenetic magazine reporter seeking a scoop, fill out the cast.

Among the costumes by Maggie Brennan, some silently scream “laugh at me, laugh at me,” a message received and followed. It doesn’t matter that the show’s sets are minimal. Its verbal and physical gags are maximal, even though more than a few fall flat.

Overall, “POTUS” is easy to enjoy, particularly for those who don’t let themselves get bogged down in gutter language or worry too much about it being a real though distorted reflection of what’s happening today in the part of the White House that hasn’t been bulldozed yet.

The Royal Underground Theatre Company’s “POTUS: Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive” runs through Sept. 27 at Live Oak Theatre, 1301 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley. Tickets are $37.89 at https://www.theroyalunderground.org.

This article was first published on LocalNewsMatters.org, a nonprofit site supported by Bay City News Foundation http://www.baycitynews.org/contact/.

Woody Weingarten can be contacted at www.woodyweingarten.com or www.vitalitypress.com or www.voodee@sbcglobal.net.

Woody Weingarten

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(L-R) Danny Scheie, Benjamin Clark and Lyndsy Kail play members of Alcoholics Anonymous in Marin Theatre’s “The White Chip” onstage in Mill Valley through Sept. 20, 2026. (David Allen via Bay City News)

by Woody Weingarten, Bay City News

“The White Chip,” a one-act play at Marin Theatre, might easily have slipped into being an “alcohol-is-evil” sermon if not for the skills of playwright Sean Daniels and director Lance Gardner. They don’t allow more than a few seconds to pass without a funny one-liner or a funny physical gag. Elements of addiction and recovery, the fast-paced show’s main motifs, are quasi-autobiographical for both.

The show is buttressed by stellar acting by Benjamin Clark as Steven, an on-again, off-again, self-destructive drunk; and Lyndsy Kail and Danny Scheie, a two-person battalion of swift-change, often humorous characters.

Steven, who works relentlessly to grab theatrical success on Broadway, relies on booze binges trying to escape inescapable pressures. Making a good choice is a difficult task for him, except perhaps when he must pick either “the fat Elvis or the skinny Elvis” to be in his Las Vegas wedding party.

The nerdy protagonist chronologically revisits his life on the treacherous road to recovery, defensively citing famed alcoholic playwrights, then rhetorically asking the audience if it would really “want to read a sober Jack Kerouac or a sober Hunter S. Thompson.”

Benjamin Clark plays Steven in Marin Theatre’s “The White Chip” onstage in Mill Valley, Calif., through Sunday, Sept. 20, 2026. (David Allen via Bay City News)
One of the funniest bits is a slapstick sequence in which white chips — from Alcoholics Anonymous, signifying 24 hours of sobriety or, indeed, simply a desire to stop imbibing — are flung around the stage as if they’d been shot from a cannon.

Steven refers to his “lifetime love affair” with the bottle, especially vodka, because it’s not detectable on the drinker’s breath. He darts from New York to Florida to Kentucky, blacking out more than once. And he details a string of accidents, arrests and relapses. But he also pinpoints moments of sheer joy and interrupts his trek to the bottom when he finds both his higher power and help from Jewish alcoholics, whose sense of humor is healing.

Those moments are opposite to his “imprisonment” in a reboot camp.

Meanwhile, Scheie, with excellent accents and facial mugging, adroitly races between being Steven’s frail father, a spunky airport bartender, a curt German interloper and a kid with squeaky voice and baseball cap turned sideways.

And Kail is so good at what she does, there’s never a question of whether she’s portraying Steven’s mom, who constantly greets him with f-bombs, or one of his multiple girlfriends, or other characters who become real with a flip of her hair or a wide-eyed expression.

Also, both Scheie and Kail imitate the voices in Steven’s head, two cats, and, hilariously, walls and doors of a moving elevator.

The show boasts excellent stagecraft. The set by Christopher Fitzer has a shiny bar with a wall full of bottles that light up for emphasis. Spense Matubang’s lighting, from sensually dim to brilliantly bright, adds drama, and Lisa Townsend’s choreography is sublime, whether in a Keystone Cops-like chase scene or a change-personality moment resulting from a flip of a cap.

“The White Chip,” which runs 1¾ hours with no intermission, might leap from a B-plus to an A-minus if 20-30 minutes were chopped from the second half. Nonetheless, this hard-on-the-tush version is worth a theatergoer’s time. It’s always a tough job to balance comedy and poignancy, and this production does it well.

Marin Theatre’s “The White Chip” continues through tomorrow at 397 Miller Ave., Mill Valley; tickets are 39 to $110 at www.marintheatre.org.

This article was first published on LocalNewsMatters.org, a nonprofit site supported by Bay City News Foundation http://www.baycitynews.org/contact/.

Woody Weingarten can be contacted at www.woodyweingarten.com or www.vitalitypress.com or www.voodee@sbcglobal.net.

Woody Weingarten

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Jereme Anglin, left, and Kevin Bordi, right, appear in “Equivocation,” a comedic and philosophical play set in Shakespearean times onstage at Spreckels Performing Arts Center in Rohnert Park, Calif. (Jeff Thomas via Bay City News)

By WOODY WEINGARTEN, Bay City News

“Equivocation,” a Spreckels Performing Arts production onstage in Rohnert Park, is a seriocomedy with endless levels and disparate themes, all of which are delightfully exceptional. 

In its 2¾-hour running time, there are repeated examples of equivocation by circa 1605 Shakespearean-style characters, both whimsically and seriously drawn by playwright Bill Cain.  

It’s a fictional history detailing King James I’s Machiavellian right-hand man, Robert Cecil (played sneeringly evil by Zane Walters), who’s pitted against poor, mostly ethical actors.

“Equivocation,” a comedic and philosophical play set in Shakespearean times, played onstage at Spreckels Performing Arts Center in Rohnert Park, Calif. (Jeff Thomas via Bay City News)

Cecil commissions Shag-speare, or Shag (skillfully portrayed by Jereme Anglin) in the name of the Scottish king to write a play about the recently foiled Gunpowder Plot by 13 Catholic terrorists-liberators aiming to blow up parliament and kill the king. 

Shag is reluctant to complete the assignment at first, musing about whether the basis for the play is a coverup, or pure propaganda. And maybe there wasn’t a plot, or gunpowder at all. Besides, he says, “We don’t do current events. We do histories, true histories of the past.” 

Given a choice between emphasizing Cain’s side-splitting, droll comedy or a touching, morally explorative melodrama-thriller, “Equivocation” director Sheri Lee Miller often opts for slapstick. There’s abundant histrionics in the play-within-a-play conceit. 

The Globe Theater actors frequently break time barriers and worm their way into “real-life” philosophical discourse as the play introduces heavy concepts: 

• Whether to risk actors’ lives by telling the truth or to massage a lie that will result in a big payday — or to deceptively offer truth and lie at the same time 

• Whether Catholicism or Protestantism is the “right” religion 

• Whether torture and execution are better solutions than diplomacy 

• Whether a writer should answer yes or no questions with a single word or convoluted paragraphs that obfuscate meaning

While “Equivocation” provides intellectual fodder for those desiring it (with references to “the Scottish play,” “King Lear” and “Richard III”), there’s more than sufficient silliness for those hoping to laugh, particularly in scenes with three witches and mirrors.

Cain tosses in the kitchen sink via philosophical questions galore (at times repetitious, other times so complex, they’re nearly impossible to follow) and avoids answering most. However, the play becomes more easily digestible with actors in street dress and using street lingo, and profanity, when not “in character.”  

The six-member ensemble cast is superb. Jeff Coté plays multiple roles, and Natalie Tichenor, the sole woman, is appropriately low-key as Judith, the Bard’s daughter who can never quite meet standards set by her dead twin brother. She’s rather quiet until she delivers a poignant soliloquy toward the play’s end. 

Kevin Bordi, who appears as Father Henry Garnet and Richard, also is choreographer of an amazingly authentic fight scene. Intricate colorful costumes by Adriana Gutierrez instantly yank theatergoers back multiple centuries. English accents are absent, but Drew Bolander’s high-pitched Scottish inflections are spectacularly amusing. 

Torture, hangings and beheadings in “Equivocation,” which debuted in Ashland, Oregon in 2009, might be disturbing and perhaps draw a gasp. Frequent time changes may also be distressing.  

However, theatergoers at a recent weekend matinee were smiling through most of the performance and jumped to their feet when it ended. 

While audiences may not instantly “get” all aspects of “Equivocation,” or perhaps get a trace of fanny fatigue toward the end, they’re almost sure to enjoy being transported back to Elizabethan times. And to laugh. A lot. 

This article was first published on LocalNewsMatters.org, a nonprofit site supported by Bay City News Foundation http://www.baycitynews.org/contact/. 

Woody Weingarten can be contacted atvoodee@sbcglobal.net,  https://woodyweingarten.com or https://vitalitypress.com.

Woody Weingarten

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