Cast of Hands on a Hardbody appear with Nissan pickup truck that’s the focus of the Rohnert Park show. Photo by Jeff Thomas.

By WOODY WEINGARTEN

Hands on a Hardbody, which plays in Rohnert Park through March 1, virtually demands that audience members root for their favorite character.

The country-rock musical pits each of 10 needy Texans against the other nine in a cruel endurance contest that screws with participants bodies and minds. The stated goal: To be the last man/woman standing in a competition to determine who can keep one hand on a hardbody pickup truck longer than the rest.

The storyline, by Doug Wright, is based on the real-life saga of a Longview auto dealer’s annual promotion in excessive summer heat from 1992 to 2005. The competition — which actually ended because of a contestant’s suicide — shallow dives into the inner life of those snagged on the underbelly of society, part of the working class that’s often crushed by big corporations and incompetent, uncaring politicians.

Serena Elize Flores, playing Norma, is the show-stopper. Looking on as she sings is Malik Charles D. Wade I (Ronald). Photo by Lauren Heney.

Theatergoers get a batch of characters to root for. They can sympathize, for instance, with Norma, a fervent Christian who apparently has multiple church congregations praying for her to win. She’s portrayed by Serena Elize Flores, who stops the show with a booming gospel tune, “Joy of the Lord,” showing off what’s easily the best voice on stage. The cast — 16 actors of different shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and vocal abilities —makes the number even better by rhythmically pounding on the truck with white cotton gloves they’re ordered to wear.

But maybe a viewer can better relate to Chris (played by Jake Druzgala), an ex-Marine with survivor guilt who poignantly sings “Stronger,” a melody about needing to be macho while in the service but being vulnerable afterwards. He’s clearly now in a war with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Or perhaps sensitive observers might feel sorry for one half of a couple, J.D. Drew (Larry Williams), who’s the oldest participant, a dude forced to retire without a pension by an injury he got falling off an oil rig, or his wife, Virginia (Julianne Bretan), who J.D.’s taken for granted despite her taking care of him. They add another emotional moment in “Alone with Me.”

Mark Bradbury (Mike) puts the moves on Katie Kelley (Heather). Photo by Jeff Thomas.

Compassion might also be given Ronald (Malik Charles D. Wade I), a big, black guy who thinks devouring candy bars will somehow be a winning strategy; Jesus (Maick Poroj), a veterinary student who quietly rails against prejudice and wants to sell the truck so he can pay his tuition; or Heather (Katie Kelly), who gulps down speed pills given her by the somewhat lecherous dealership manager to ensure a fixed victory.

Direction by Sheri Lee Miller makes sure the 2½-hour run-time moves swiftly, and that person after person’s self-explorations are tight and the whole enchilada isn’t choppy. She also underscores the humor that’s sprinkled throughout, keeping the show from descending into sentimental tragedy.

A shiny cherry red Nissan truck on a center-stage turntable might itself by the way be considered a character. It swirls and moves forward and backward and symbolizes a chance for the winner to make a 180-degree life change from down-on-your-luck to light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel.

The playwright, 63-year-old Doug Wright, may well believe his tale is more relevant today than when it arrived on Broadway in 2013 since he has contended that “our economic tumult has brought age-old fissures of race, class, and income inequality to the fore.”

Hands on a Hardbody certainly offers plenty to chew on. It covers, if superficially, the major disappearance of the American dream, the destruction of the U.S. healthcare system, and the hardship of the blue-collar class in general.

But every now and then, the text spits out a distracting behind-the-times reference. Such as when it refers to Desert Storm in current terms, or it lists the then-spanking new truck at only $22,000.

The basically plotless show — reminiscent of A Chorus Line or Sondheim — features southern rock, gospel, country, and Delta blues. It is, according to music director Lucas Sherman, who’s onstage at Spreckels on keyboards, backed by a violinist, guitarist, bass-player and drummer — “gritty at times and beautiful the rest of the time.” Gritty, of course, wins more often.

Trey Anastasio, lead guitarist of the rock band Phish, co-wrote the music with Amanda Green, who also did the lyrics.

Everyone involved worked on making sure that Hands on a Hardbody, in effect stuck in place by the musical’s arc, doesn’t remain static. They break the story’s theme by having contestants leave the truck to move upstage and sing (without being thrown out of the contest). Characters constantly and gracefully slip ‘n’ slide in front of and behind each other while still touching the hardbody. And Karen Miles’ choreography is wonderfully silly in spite of having most of her dance creations needing to be limited — one-handed.

It’s a show that sounds vastly heavier in a review than it is. It’s extremely likable. And the more a theatergoer thinks about it after leaving, the more that person’s apt to like it even more.

Hands on a Hardbody will play in the Nellie W. Codding Theater of the Spreckels Arts Center, 5409 Snyder Lane, Rohnert Park, through March 1. Tickets: $16 to $44. Info: www.spreckelsonline.com or 707-588-3400.

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.

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.