Conrad Cady, Tyler Null, Alicia von Kugelgen and Simon Patton are excellent in Masquers Playhouse’s production of Improbable Fiction.” (Mike Padua via Bay City News) 

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

Arnold, a disoriented wannabe writer, suddenly finds several hunters in his living room trolling for aliens from outer space in Masquers Playhouse’s production of Alan Ayckbourn’s “Improbable Fiction” onstage in Point Richmond.

Played deftly by C. Conrad Cady, Arnold’s jumpy, overheated befuddlement hit the audience’s collective funny-bone so hard and long, their laughter drowned out more than a few of the next lines.

The first act of this farce — about a do-it-yourself writer’s group whose members talk more about writing than doing it — starts slowly. While audiences may momentarily worry about reacting well to the British humor, they should watch out: the pace quickly becomes frenetic. Then, Act 2 incites laughter immediately. With physical and verbal slapstick antics and quick-change costuming, it demands out-loud laughs as Arnold finds himself in the middle of a collaborative story.

Also very funny are Simon Patton as Brevis, who writes the book for musicals and whose comic crabbiness is so inflated it surpasses Lewis Black’s nasty/funny attitude; Tyler Null as Clem, who garbles one word after another, concocts conspiracy stories and adopts a noir detective persona as an alter ego; and Anna Kosiarek as Vivvi, a horny woman whose hangdog expressions are reminiscent of Stan Laurel.

None of the members, however, have a greater burning desire to finish their projects than Grace (played by Alicia von Kugelgen), who for years has been futilely trying to write a kids’ book about Doblin the Goblin to accompany her drawings.

Indeed, only Arnold has completed anything, and that’s been in the form of instruction manuals.

Masquers Playhouse, an amazing intimate community theater, consistently stages musicals and plays like this 2 ¼-quarter hour comedy that’s so tightly directed by Angela Mason. Here, the actors are superb, even when being intentionally hammy.

Equally excellent are the light and sound design by Michael O’Brien and dazzling, imaginative costumes by Ava Byrd.

Sir Alan Ayckbourn improbably has written and produced more than 90 plays, 10 of which have landed on Broadway, but he spends the bulk of his time directing. At a Masquers opening-week matinee, his delightful “Improbable Fiction” received an almost unanimous standing ovation. It was merited.

“Improbable Fiction” continues through March 1 at Masquers’ Playhouse, 105 Park Place, Point Richmond. Tickets are $15 to $35 at masquers.org.

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

Sherwood “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.comand 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.

A zoned-out servant, Firs, clutches 100-year-old bookcase to show it off to cast of The Cherry Orchard. Photo by David Allen.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

Nina Ball’s classy set for Marin Theatre’s The Cherry Orchard is exceptional, fully capturing the sense of an aristocratic, past-its-sell-date Russian estate.

Lydia Tanji’s costumes for the almost three-hour modern-language comedy are delightful, some comic, some gorgeously reinforcing the sense of powerless, turn-of-the-20th-century characters all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Superlative is the direction of the two-act classic Anton Chekhov play by Carey Perloff, who helmed the American Conservatory Theatre for 26 years, carefully extracting both comic and tragic emotions from an energetic, top-notch cast that’s mercurial yet predictable.

Bay Area actors with familiar faces — Howard Swain, Liz Sklar, Anthony Fusco, and Lance Gardner, for example — are inspiring, often briskly moving the 1904 modern-language play along with subtle eye or mouth movements or silences that brilliantly flesh out a fading upper-crust. For pure theatrical pleasure, check out Swain as Firs, an aged butler who’s ultimately abandoned after being in everyone’s face; Sklar as Liubóv, a frivolous, ineffectual “loose woman” who’s clueless about how to overcome a debilitating family debt; and Fusco as Gáyev, Liubóv’s brother, who revels in prattling but is often shut down.

Lopákhin (right) excitedly holds attention of cast in The Cherry Orchard. Photo by David Allen.

Tour de force becomes the appropriate label for Gardner, the theater company’s executive artistic director who cloaks himself in the persona of status- and money-hungry Lopákhin, who thinks the orchard, which “is mentioned in the encyclopedia,” should be cut down and developed as vacation housing. Gardner’s verbal pauses demand attention. So do his statements like “I’m rich. I’ve got lots of money,” contrasted with his unrelenting belief that he’s still just a poor schnook from the country. The actor, in fact, quietly draws scrutiny even before the play opens as he sleeps center-stage on a divan with an open book on his chest.

For those looking for comedy, The Cherry Orchard provides plenty of over-the-top clowning and pratfalls, as well as sly verbal humor and running gags, not to mention mock-violence that might have been lifted right out of a zany Three Stooges playbook or a Road Runner cartoon.

For those seeking drama, the production delivers sufficient riveting themes — such as grieving over a child, multiple references to slavery, and class differences at a time when society’s underpinnings are shaky and the Russian Revolution waits in the wings. Illicit relationships cause ripples, and cherry blossoms and a 100-year-old bookcase and a slew of broken dolls, all symbolic, help create a thought-provoking atmosphere.

Descriptive phrases are common. One character, for example, accuses another of being “like an animal that eats everything in its path.”

Oddly juxtaposed are a female, dressed as if she stepped out of a Nickelodeon telecast, who does card tricks and a guy who does ventriloquy.

One downside is that the farce starts off frenzied while introducing too many characters at once. It’s parallel to many Russian novels where, despite accompanying graphics of family trees, it takes a while to unravel who’s related to whom.

Once you figure out who’s connected to whom, however, the play’s easy to relate to, especially its political undercurrents that resemble today’s, including obsessions with a new world order and either begging for or stockpiling money.

Compassion was Chekhov’s hallmark, according to dramaturg Michael Paller.  “He never judged his characters one way or the other.” But we can.

Perloff, a press release reports, says the play, which she’d commissioned Paul Schmidt to translate, is “about why change is crucial and why we always resist it. It’s…full of narcissistic characters who are sure they’re the star of their own story, but fail to realize the damage they’re causing to the people around them.”

Know anybody like that?

The Cherry Orchard will play at the Marin Theater, 397 Miller Ave., Mill Valley, through Feb. 22. Tickets: $15 to $89 (plus $6 handling fee per order). Info: 415-388-5200 or www.marintheatre.org

Sherwood “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.comand 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.

Ross Valley Players production of “The Hello Girls” features, L-R, Monica Rose Slater, Jacqueline Lee, Abigail Wissink, Grace Margaret Craig and Malia Abayon. (Robin Jackson/Ross Valley Players via Bay City News)

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

Women’s roles in wartime rarely have been so smartly and poignantly portrayed as in “The Hello Girls.”

Ross Valley Players are staging the 2018 musical drama co-written by Peter C. Mills and Cara Reichel, which starts in World War I as U.S. servicemen are fighting in France. Dispatches were being screwed up because male American telephone switchboard operators couldn’t speak French, and their French counterparts lacked English.

Enter the Signal Corps Female Telephone Operators Unit.

“The Hello Girls” tracks the misogyny French-speaking females suffered at the hands of their peers and superiors, all the way “up the chain” to stalwart Gen. John “Blackjack” Pershing, played by Joseph Walters with appropriate gruffness.

The feel-good story focuses on Grace Banker, the women’s leader, and four other bilingual operators. Monica Rose Slater adroitly portrays Banker, who is often stone-faced, a countenance befitting keeping her underlings in line—until she starts singing and smiling, often with wide-eyed mugging. She clearly has the most resonant voice of the 10-member cast. Grace Margaret Craig displays comic chops as sharp mouthed operator Suzanne Prevot.

Monica Rose Slater plays Grace Banker, leader of the telephone operator corps in Ross Valley Players’ “The Hello Girls.” (Robin Jackson/Ross Valley Players via Bay City News)

Mills composed the sometimes-similar jazz and ragtime songs in the two-act, two-and-half-hour show. The dense lyrics are geared to move the story along, but the tunes lack memorable riffs. However, some numbers are pleasant: the opener “Answer the Call”; the bouncy title tune “Hello Girls”; the first-act finale “Lives on the Line”; the second-act opener “The Front” and “Making History,” which details what happened after the time period of the show, as the “girls” fought to be recognized as soldiers for decades.

Only a few numbers near the schmaltzy ending—such as “The Lost Battalion,” a solo by promoted Capt. Riser (Nelson Brown) that’s a study in poignancy—deal with the horrors of war.

None of Mills’ melodies are as exciting as snippets of standards such as “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” that are included. And those morsels aren’t nearly as good as the upbeat choruses of signature tunes from each U.S. military branch, belted by the full cast in a patriotic medley.

The actors playfully display their abilities on myriad instruments — keyboard, drums, double-bass, cello, violin, flute and accordion. While they’re probably not either Juilliard or San Francisco Symphony material, they play well enough to create an illusion of mastery.

Director Maeve Smith ensures that the performers’ singing and dancing are in sync, and that their facial expressions and body language convey precisely the right mood.

Ron Krempetz’s set is marvelous and eye-catching; cross-hatched wires and bright lights reveal how critical phone messages were to the war effort.

Grace Margaret Craig displays comic chops and proficiency on accordion in “The Hello Girls.” (Robin Jackson/Ross Valley Players via Bay City News)

Costumes by Valera Coble providing an accurate sense of the era range from blue military outfits with high necklines, puffy sleeves and long skirts, and contrasting colorful civilian garb, for the women, and olive drab uniforms and army helmets and ammo belts for the men. All that, plus heavy boots!

Jonathan Blue’s choreography, predominantly cutesy, can’t help but evoke smiles.

Props are few, and the switchboard is invisible. However, the actors make it real by simulating plug-in motions and serving up perfect harmony, musically and in demeanor.

While it was difficult to watch how the women were rebuffed in their efforts to be in the middle of the action “at the front,” the show’s comedy goes down easier, such as the scene where the women are learning ever-changing secret phone system codes that force them to be trilingual, to know French, English and gibberish.

Ross Valley Players’ “The Hello Girls” runs through March 1 in the Barn Theatre, Marin Art & Garden Center, 30 Sir Francis Blvd., Ross. Tickets are $30-$45 at rossvalleyplayers.com.

Find Sherwood “Woody” Weingarten, a member of the San Francisco Bay Area Theater Critics Circle and the author of four books at voodee@sbcglobal.net, woodyweingarten.com or vitalitypress.com.

Mark Morris dancers perform in front of projection of the moon and a geometric design, ringed by miniature astronaut figurines. Photo by Xmbphotography.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

It was a rarity for sure — a sound tsunami, rear-screen projections, and pint-sized astronaut figurines, the totality of which often became more compelling than Mark Morris Dance Group movements.

But true to form, the group’s Moon still provided an overall offbeat, entertaining, jam-packed 60-minute program at Zellerbach Hall in Berkeley. And amusing, even though some segments were significantly befuddling or weird.

The music began with percussive single notes that quickly morphed into jazzy phrases that foreshadowed a lot of what was coming. Astoundingly, the loud, rich tones were provided live in the pit by only two instrumentalists — music director Colin Fowler on piano and organ, Michel Taddei on double bass — on melodies as diverse as Clair de lune, Debussy’s ubiquitous classic, and the obscure Blue Moon of Kentucky by Bill Monroe and His Blue Grass Boys. Plus excerpts from Carl Sagan and NASA’s Golden Record, which was placed aboard two 1977 Voyager spaceships in hopes of communicating with extraterrestrials.

The first of countless projections impeccably designed by Wendall K. Harrington simultaneously highlighted György Ligeti’s Musica ricercata and attempted to supersede the growing jingoism that was spotting our nation in April, when Morris premiered his creation in D.C. in conjunction with Cal Performances and several other musical organizations that co-commissioned it.

Moon saluted old-style American patriotism, initially showing a moving circle of stars that transformed into the U.S. seal. Following images illustrated the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in D.C. and the assassinated president at a podium. Both the world premiere in the nation’s capital and the three-day Zellerbach booking that marked the Bay Area premiere ignored Donald J. Trump, the current, living president — obviously on purpose.

Other projections included full and crescent moons, closeups of craters, moons overlayed with geometric lines and circles, moons linked with pretty much anything you’ve ever associated with that sphere. They perfectly embellished the overriding theme of man’s consistent infatuation with the satellite.

Mark Morris dancers perform in front of projection of the moon and a geometric design, ringed by miniature astronaut figurines. Photo by Xmbphotography.

Costumes by famed designer Isaac Mizrahi, which vaguely resembled jumpsuits used by astronauts, were surprisingly dissatisfying. The contrast of light fronts and dark backs worked well enough, but at least several audience members commented that the outfits lacked excitement and were distracting because they flapped loosely, particularly in the stomach and crotch areas.

Even more bedeviling, however, were segments of the program that were as short as any dance material ever professionally staged, lasting but a few seconds, certainly insufficient time to figure out its purpose.

Perplexing, too, was what seemed an excessive use of the nine featured dancers as, in effect, stagehands who constantly moved around the one-and-a-half-foot high astronaut statuettes, to the point of even simulating robots as they carried them offstage.

It also became difficult to discern why the many foreign-language insertions of greetings to aliens were inserted at the places they were, and it was sometimes tough on the ears to absorb the scratchy static from recordings of 80 or 90 years ago.

Oh, yeah, as for the dancing itself, it generally lacked inspiration. Redundancy throughout — with couples repeatedly hugging and twirling, with dancers reaching out as if to touch a projected moonscape, with dancers swirling across the stage — silhouetted behind a scrim — as they spread out on stools with wheels. Chunks of that was memorable, but some was less than wonderful (especially a sequence that supposedly emulated the movements of monkeys).

The audience for the most part clapped tepidly after each segment but found the energy to applaud vigorously when the short intermission-less piece was done. It also had the grace to give choreographer Mark Morris a standing ovation in honor of the outstanding modern ballets he’s created since founding his troupe in 1980.

Morris’ most popular works are his masterpiece, L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato, which uses Handel and Milton’s sung poetry as a base; his witty The Hard Nut, which toys with The Nutcracker as if were turned sideways; and the sexy Dido and Aeneas, an adaptation of a Purcell opera.

Upcoming dance performances at Zellerbach Hall include the Martha Graham Dance Company Feb. 14 and 15, celebrating the company’s 100th anniversary; A.I.M. by Kyle Abraham Feb. 21 and 22; the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater April 7-12; and The Joffrey Ballet performing the West Coast premiere of Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Sherwood “Woody” Weingarten, a longtime voting member of the San Francisco Bay Area Theater Critics Circle and the author of four books, 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.