Tag Archives: Irene Adjan
Tracy Jones bowing at Island City Stage is a comedy masking lonely people trying to make connections they don’t have the skill to achieve. It’s a briskly-moving smile with quirky characters who may be nursing poignant secrets but who have no hesitation throwing food at each other like in a Three Stooges short.
A hallmark of Slow Burn Theatre Company is its knack in finding new, mostly young talent and shaping those performers’ creativity. That approach—and this current round of talent—are on full display in the high energy, highly entertaining production of Footloose, now at the Broward Center.
Unabashed charm is not a quality one associates with modern musicals, but it is the predominant and reasonably satisfying virtue if you take the Wick Theatre’s time machine back 61 years to the opening of Milk and Honey, the first full-length musical by promising newcomer Jerry Herman.
Do not go to Actors’ Playhouse’s Murder on the Orient Express expecting the grim locked-room mystery at the heart of the films or the novel. This 2017 edition is penned by the playwright of Lend Me A Tenor. If you can wipe the tone of those earlier efforts from your mind, you will likely find yourself chuckling much of the night at these theater veterans turn the Christie classic into a cute, often quite funny two-hour comedy sketch.
The celebration of love in many permutations – from first connections to farewells – swirls around the stage like the snow and the aurora borealis lights in Palm Beach Dramaworks’ gentle, sometimes comic, sometimes bittersweet, consistently touching Almost, Maine. The vignettes about the quirky residents creating, testing, dissolving relationships is shot through with the hope that love can be found or rescued.
There is a fifth crucial performer not mentioned in the playbill for Palm Beach Dramaworks’ upcoming production of “Almost, Maine.” High above the residents on a chilly Friday night in late January in the titular small town, a parade of lights flickers like the bottom of a multicolored curtain.
Yes, there is broad humor, over-the-top characters, cartoonish sets, a fairy tale vibe and a 10-foot tall puppet, but Theatre Lab makes it clear that Rachel Teagle’s world premiere script of The Impracticality of Modern-Day Mastodons is not children’s theater, but an adult evaluation of dreams.
It’s an obvious truism that most theater art – from dialogue to the lighting design – is partly a product of the artists’ past experience. But playwright-director Amy London’s Story of a Life, a harrowing examination of generations caring for loved ones suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, is ripped directly from the marrow of her own painful past.
Six months into the pandemic, theater artists are struggling with a profoundly damaging dimension particular to their purgatory-like limbo: The calling that gives their lives meaning requires interaction with other people in the same room. Late this summer, 33 South Florida storytellers agreed to draw back the curtain on their backstage battles that form the spine of an all too real three-act drama.
There’s something irresistibly intriguing when a whimsical fairy tale is invoked to teach life lessons to adults. Theatre Lab’s The Glass Piano may have a befuddled king, a savvy servant and a lovely princess. But Alix Sober’s delightfully fanciful and imaginative work is absolutely not a children’s play.