Tag Archives: Mallory Newbrough
Island City Stage’s highly entertaining production of the musical Zanna, Don’t! will never be confused with a show by Stephen Sondheim, though there are numerous references to the famed composer. Amid the numerous pop culture references, , and well-timed humor, Zanna, Don’t! slyly, yet forcefully, maintains that everyone has a right to love whom they want.
One pleasure of a theater critic’s job are these year-end retrospectives that require looking back at reviews and be reminded, “Oh, yeah, that was really great. And right, there was that. And how could I forget that one?”
When entering a theater playing a musical you’ve enjoyed numerous times, it’s comforting to open the playbill to find the names of proven talents that reassure that you and the material are in good hands. Names, for instance, like Mike Westrich, Bruce Linser, Mallory Newbrough, Paul Reekie and Jim Ballard – some of the dependable hands delivering a solid entertaining edition of the delightful Little Shop of Horrors from MNM Productions.
An Octoroon is the kind of art that defies a Siskel & Ebert thumbs up / thumbs down assessment. You can praise or fault elements of the script or a production, but Area Stage Company’s courageous effort reinforces An Octoroon’s overarching intent as a thought provocateur.
Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ An Octoroon virtually defines the adjective “provocative.” No matter the quality of the production that the courageous Area Stage Company actually delivers next week, it is inarguably going to be unlike much, if anything, that audiences have seen on a South Florida stage.
MNM’s production of Stephen Sondheim’s groundbreaking musical Company is intermittently lit with incandescent performances worth the price of admission by themselves, but the overall piece disappointingly lacks crispness, passion and, until the last 10 minutes, heart.
The final tear-inducing five minutes of Beauty and the Beast, if executed effectively as it is at The Wick Theatre production, is a good barometer of whether you’re dead inside.
Beehive, yet another innocuous transitorily entertaining revue tracing music sung by women through the 1960s, highlights, intentionally or not, one trenchant observation. The same early Baby Boomers who started the decade enthusiastically singing along to Lesley Gore’s “It’s My Party” ended up wailing with Janis Joplin’s “Cry Baby.”
The enduring genius of Titanic the Musical beautifully limned by Slow Burn Theatre Company is that while it arely nods at what’s to come, it relies on the audience viewing the initial paeans to progress and dreams with the knowledge that this optimistic vision will be swept away by fate, Nature or the very God being prayed to.
Outré Theatre Company’s edition of Tommy demonstrates how skill, imagination and pure guts can triumph over the most modest of means. Its greatest virtue in bringing the classic rock opera to the postage stamp stage is a total, laser-focused tsunami-strength commitment.