Tag Archives: Krystal Millie Valdes
It’s almost paternalistic to praise New City Players as one of the gutsiest theaters in the region. But with its carefully-wrought and moving production of Constellations, the Players have outgrown the well-meant but limited expectations that arts patrons have of a so-called “fledgling theater.”
With a cast of unfettered and inspired clowns, Thinking Cap Theatre has produced a hilarious edition of a 1687 comedy by Aphra Benn, The Emperor of the Moon, lathering almost every second of this commedia dell’arte farce with a humor encyclopedia’s worth of sight gags, comic timing, verbal delivery, bathroom humor and endless physical schtick — all delivered at a lickety-split pace by a comically nimble troupe.
Produced competently, with flashes of brilliance, by New City Players at the Vanguard, Clybourne Park’s expose of the evolving presentation of white privilege over generations has lost some of its structural novelty, observational luster and ability to shock in the seven years since its regional premiere at the Caldwell
You can’t really blame the playwright Erika Soerenson or artistic directors for thinking that a distaff reinterpretation of the Quentin Tarantino film Reservoir Dogs might make an intriguing, funny and even socially revealing stage adaptation, Reservoir Dolls. But the Outré Theatre Company’s production iunderscores what a misbegotten idea this was because either the playwright did not know what she wanted in the end or Outré never communicated it.
Slow Burn Theatre Company’s rollicking race-down-the-hill production of Peter and the Starcatcher is a joyful hoot packed with more sight gags, puns, pratfalls, wordplay and even a bit of wistfulness than arguably any other recent work including the current The Play That Goes Wrong.
The wobbly foundations of fledgling New City Players’ production of David Auburn’s reliable Proof are unlikely to impress seasoned theatergoers, especially those who have seen the play before. From questionable acting choices to frantically paced direction, this Proof only conveys the broad strokes in Auburn’s filial drama.
New City Players’ The Glass Menagerie starts a bit sluggishly, suffers throughout from some debatable technical decisions, and some performances are more compelling than others. But it builds in polish and power until it produces a second act that consistently makes you glad you invested an evening.