Jean (left), Irv (center) and Larry discuss old photo of Irv in Pictures from Home. Photo by David Allen.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

Check out the upscale, retirement-age parents in their San Fernando Valley tract home where the wife’s real estate commissions have kept them afloat for years while the husband’s played golf thrice weekly and continually raged.

In Pictures from Home at the Marin Theatre through May 31, the lives and personalities of the Sultan parents — Irv and Jean — are methodically deconstructed by their demi-adult photographer son, Larry, who frequently sleeps over on weekends after traveling down from Greenbrae. Instead of a stuffed animal, he’s long been caressing a camera and recorder apparently borrowed from the San Francisco Art Institute and California College of the Arts, where he’s been teaching.

All three performers are Equity pros; all three easily bring their real-life characters to life on a cluttered stage set dominated by a large screen onto which still-photo after still-photo extracted from home-movie reels is projected.

Larry, as play’s narrator, has fond memory of portrait of his dad. Photo by David Allen.

Irv, a razor salesman and Schick V.P. who bears only a slight resemblance to everyman Willie Loman and who’s depressed because no one seemingly can afford “hopes and dreams” anymore, firmly believes photos depict events as they are. Larry, the son who’s decidedly more artistic, has spent the last 10 years working on a photo-cum-book project to prove that pictures can show more than bare reality, that they can judiciously recall memories in a way that some might label fiction or exaggeration.

He also acts as the 105-minute, intermission-less, fascinatingly different play’s narrator.

Jean, meanwhile, tries to skirt the ongoing debate, has convinced herself she’s “in charge,” and grumbles that she’d “just like a couple of nice photos for the fridge.”

The one-act Pictures from Home is sprinkled with lots of verbal and physical humor, so much you might think it would be enough to leaven the extremely weighty drama. Not quite.

That’s because what they’re discussing is too personal, too intimate, too raw. It’s visceral rather than cerebral, even when comparing generations.

The problem, if it is any problem, is that playwright Sharr White and director Jonathan Moscone have re-created a family that’s virtually everybody’s, regardless of ethnicity, socio-economic status, or geography. “That was my father up there,” one exiting theatergoer was heard to say.

Dad is played brilliantly by Victor Talmadge as a sad, vulnerable loudmouth who talks over everybody and tries to emasculate his son because he feels powerless himself. Though he appears to lack empathy, he contends that the “key to success is empathy.” Mom, portrayed by Suzan Koosin, flawlessly spends a good part of the play flitting from one edge of the stage to another while trying to get her husband and son to put down their verbal swords. Larry is well-crafted by Dan Cantor as an immature, cowed offspring unlikely ever to grow up.

The dramedy, which is based on a photo memoir by the real Larry Sultan, opened to critical acclaim on Broadway in 2023, with Nathan Lane as Irv.

No matter who’s in the role, though, when Larry’s proposal becomes a reality, Irv neither understands nor accepts the artsy concept and still feels invaded. “I see you’ve got pretty much every photo I don’t like in the book,” he bemoans.

Pictures from Home will run at the Marin Theatre, 397 Miller Ave., Mill Valley, through May 31. Tickets: $38 to $94, plus a $6 handling fee per total order. Info: 415-388-5208 or www.MarinTheatre.org.

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 via his websites,https://woodyweingarten.com and https://vitalitypress.com

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

If you want to guess how many facts, including fake ones, can dance humorously and philosophically on the head of a pin, scoot over to the 6th St. Playhouse in Santa Rosa.

There you’ll find Lifespan of a Fact, a cerebral 95-minute play that may test your patience for nit-picking and a sluggish first act but is sure to reward you with tons of snarky-based chuckles minutes later. The acting, meanwhile, morphs from wimpy and tough-to-hear into robust and boisterous.

Crisp dialogue. A little slapstick, including a character at war with his backpack. Farce-like slamming of doors. All are tossed in for good measure and laughs.

The basic plotline? It’s all about truth vs. lies.

John D’Agata, a Norman Mailer-type veteran writer played arrogantly and gruffly by Marty Pistone, has penned a career-best “legacy” essay about a teen suicide for a prestigious but fiscally challenged New York magazine.

Egocentric enough to list himself along the great essayists of all time, he’s taken more than a few liberties with the facts. A lifelong habit? Clearly.

Jim Fingal, an energetic young intern portrayed by Noah Vondralee-Sternhill, struts his Harvard grad cockiness once he gets into the work — after awkwardly beginning the bizarre series of fact checks. If not careful, his over-the-top corrections will diminish the essay by erasing its color.

D’Agata, always protective of his reputation, nastily chides him about overestimating his “importance in the entire process.”

John D’Agata (Marty Pistone) unsuccessfully tries to sweet-talk Emily Penrose (Shanay Howell). Photo by Eric Chazankin.

It takes no time at all for Emily Penrose, the editor who tasks Fingal, to recognize the pair’s polarized views (Shanay Howell alternates with Emily Lynn Cornelius, the troupe’s executive artistic director, in the role).

She listens to them swapping insults, attempts to mediate —  and then, with resignation, asks them “not to kill each other” (the outcome of which remains in doubt for some time).

Though the dramedy’s director, Libby Oberlin, has a tsunami of words to deal with, she keeps Act II at a pace that sprints — zingy enough to cause the audience to applaud between scenes.

The play (written by Jeremy Kareken, David Murrell, and Gordon Farrell) is based on a 2012 book crafted by the real-life D’Agata and Fingal.

Lifespan of a Fact debuted on Broadway in 2018 starring Daniel Radcliffe, Bobby Cannavale, and Cherry Jones. Critics praised its cleverness.

And its timeliness.

When the play’s over, you might try thinking of someone out there today who might stretch the truth just a teeny bit to serve his own purposes?

Lifespan of a Fact will run at the Monroe Stage of the 6th St. Playhouse, 52 W. 6th St., Santa Rosa, through May 31. Tickets: $26.95 to $47.95. Info: 707-523-4185 or boxoffice@6thstreetplayhouse.com.

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.

The gods of comedy (Dionysus and Thalia), down from Mount Olympus, introduce themselves with a flair. Photo by Mike Padua.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

Daphne Rain, a workaholic classics prof played impeccably by Anna Wesner, is mouse-like and straightforward, and early-on declares “I don’t need a boyfriend; I need tenure.” But she’s also fickle, flirtatious, and frisky.

Ralph, her male counterpart classics professor, is portrayed brilliantly, hilariously by Paul Bisesi as gawky yet lovable. But, nevertheless, he’s fickle, flirtatious, and frisky.

And Dionysus, one of two larger-than-life spirits who hustle down to Earth from Mount Olympus in The Gods of Comedy at the Masquers Playhouse, is rollickingly characterized by Jeffrey Biddle. But he, as well, is fickle, flirtatious, and frisky.

This screwball 2019 comedy by playwright Ken Ludwig, celebrated creator of Lend Me a Tenor, is crammed with sexual wordplay, sexual movements, and single entendres — with partners changing as often as those in a bad French movie that somehow never stoops to boring.

The most sex-crazed character, however, is none of the above. It’s Liddy Freeman as slithering bombshell actress Brooklyn De Wolfe, who, with apologies to Will Rogers, apparently never met a man she didn’t like.

That said, sex makes up only about 3% of The Gods of Comedy. Indeed, the farce is at once laugh-out-loud-funny, cartoonish, silly, clever, and witty. It’s filled with slapstick, mistaken identities, exaggerated mugging, buffoonery, gags coming as fast as gatling-gun bullets, and copious physical comedy.

A handful of costumed production numbers, moreover, guarantee keeping your family Grouch or Dr. Seuss’ Grinch away.

Two classics professors, Ralph and Daphne, cradle a lost Euripides play, Andromeda. Photo by  Mike Padua.

The plot itself — mainly a frantic search for a re-lost manuscript of an unearthed edition of as Euripides play, Andromeda — almost doesn’t matter.

It also makes no-never-mind ha the show features tons of champion on scenery as well as third-grade level clowning (that tickles adult funny-bones much better than red noses and floppy shoes might).

Think, too, about the impossibility of not laughing at the running gag in which costumed-to-the-nines Dionysus and the muse, Thalia (Melody Payne Alonzo), constantly re-introduce themselves as “The Gods of comedy” with a flourish, a pause, and arms thrust outward, followed by an over-the-top “Ta da!”

Theatergoers also chuckle at Ares, a narcissistic, oversexed god of war (played by Paul J. White, not Pete Hegseth) who responds when asked what he does for a living, “Rape and pillage.”

Awe is another frequent crowd reaction, especially to the most spectacular visual scene: Dionysus juggling, Thalia twirling batons, and projected fireworks going off on the backdrop.

Awe is also appropriate for most of the costume designs by Lynda Hornada, who’s done that work on Broadway and for the New York Shakespeare Festival.

The sets also deserve accolades. They range from a full-blown look at a college office to a naked curtain. It all works seamlessly.  

There are flaws in this community theater production, however, not because of any performances, not linked to the direction, the sound, or the lighting.

The two-act show is often uneven, because there are so many jokey moments the odds are, a bunch will fall flat. In addition, between sight gags that draw major giggles and squeals are a few slow moments when the dialogue is drab and audience silences are awkward.

And while there are topical references to the Marvel series of film franchises, there also are weird, outdated mentions — to an ancient television series, “I Love Lucy,” for instance.

Director Ronnie Anderson, who keeps the two-hour pace at unrelenting, breakneck speed, writes in the program, “I am thankful the Gods were smiling on me, when casting.” Clearly, they were: The entire ensemble is not only superlative but sustains as much fun on the Point Richman stage as anyone’s likely to see.

Anderson utilizes a successful device that allows the minor god-like characters to instantly change personalities. They also shift from invisible to visible and back again.

Not incidentally, each of the play’s characters consistently seeks either an adventure or “a happy ending.” They get one or the other. Or both. And, no spoiler alert here, so does the audience — despite the “pure chaos” that frequently colors the stage.

The Gods of Comedy will run at the Masquers Playhouse,  105 Park Place, Point Richmond, through May 17. Tickets: $15 to $35. Info: 510-232-3888 or info@masquers.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.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.

“Pilgrim of Sorrow” portion of Zellerbach Hall concert in Berkeley features familiar stance of Alvin Ailey dance troupe.

 By WOODY WEINGARTEN

The 2,000-seat Zellerbach Hall in Berkeley was packed for Saturday’s matinee. The crowd blended nicely with the 7 or 8 folks in the audience who’d never before seen the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.

For many, it’s been too long, their first reprise since the beginning of the pandemic.

Despite two Bay Area premieres being on the bill, no one apparently wanted to wait for the forever favorite, “Revelations,” the troupe’s signature piece, sometimes labeled the most-seen modern dance in the world.

When it happened, after the second intermission, the entire place seemed to go bonkers — as if a stadium of high schoolers were rooting for a local championship football team.

The final section of the 10-part gospel-based composition, “Rocka My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham,” was a presentation so rousing that the throng stood like an army in a unified, predictable standing ovation, clapping rhythmically and weaving and dancing in front of its seats.

It was awesome how so many folks were led into their happy place all at once, and no one even left “to beat the crowd” in a rush to get out of a parking lot.

“Revelations,” of course, featured the stylized, instantly recognizable hand, head, and body movements that have delineated Alvin Ailey’s choreography since the piece debuted in 1960, two years after he founded the company.

It all holds up today. Exquisitely. With grace and fervor.

Virtually every component of the composition amped up the volume and pace, forcing concertgoers’ excitement to rise accordingly until a roar shook the walls of the hall. It all fit perfectly, somehow, like a 2,000-piece jigsaw puzzle.

Early parts used no props or backdrops, allowing the audience to focus solely on the skill of the multi-racial company. Then, when the movements became as pure as the all-white costumes, “Wade in the Water” spotlighted a long fabric that transformed into lovely, nearly believable waves.

“Sinner Man” provided a hellish backdrop of flames and a trio of male dancers — Xavier Logan, Jessie Obremski, and Mason Evans — whose frenetic energy was exhausting just to witness. Without a zombie in sight.

The middle section of the concert, “Embrace,” featured five low tables that, when turned on their sides, allowed dancers to slither onto them. It also displayed exciting, emotional choreography by Frederick Earl Mosley to recorded melodies by Pink, Ed Sheeran, Stevie Wonder, and Kate Bush.

A rising and falling moon that showcased glistening craters and changing colors hung from semi-invisible wires.

The program said that “Embrace” examined “the ups and downs of human connections — messy, beautiful, and everything in between.”

In “Jazz Island,” a Caribbean folk character, Erzulie, Afro-Haitian goddess of love, takes over the stage — and the story.

True. It depicted 5 or 6 — maybe, 50 — shades of love, including an unsatisfying gay relationship whose raw emotion was best depicted when each half of the almost-couple is sitting on opposite sides of stage with his back to the audience.

“Jazz Island,” the concert’s opener, was based on a Caribbean folk tale and choreographed by Maija Garcia, a Cuban American whose history has included stage productions. The problem was that the piece’s narrative —adapted from Black Gods, Green Islands by Geoffrey Holder — was excessive, leaving nothing to the imagination, leaving little to be fascinated by.

Costuming by Carlton Jones, however, did stand out, particularly the outfit of two main characters, Erzulie, an Afro-Haitian goddess of love, and Baron Samedi, guardian of the dead.

The main plotline revolved around an arranged marriage between Bashiba, a flower girl, and a stereotypical wealthy guy despite her having fallen in love with a traveler, Jean-Claude Louis.

The Ailey troupe is now under the leadership of Alicia Graf Mack, a former star dancer with the company. She’s its fourth artistic director — and obviously has an ultra-high bar to replicate or surpass.

Highlights of what’s coming up soon at Zellerbach Hall under the auspices of Cal Performances include the Joffrey Ballet’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream” April 17-19, and a May 3 recital with soprano Renée Fleming and pianist Inon Barnatan.

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.