Tag Archives: Matt Corey
The “horror” in Zoetic Stage’s Frankenstein shares little kinship with the film monster with bolts in his neck terrorizing the countryside or even the 1818 novel of science gone wrong. But a different very contemporary terror is there all the same from the breath-taking wordless prologue of a stitched together embryo clawing out of a pod to the silent final image of two bodies crawling through Arctic waste.
Theatre Lab invests its growing expertise in multi-media theater performance in Vanessa Garcia’s premiere of Ich Bin Ein Berliner, a heartfelt memoir of a Cuban-American girl who grows up perceiving a growing, resonance between Berlin escaping Communism when the Wall fell in 1989 and the unrealized-as-yet dream of Cuba escaping Communism.
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.
The actual stage at GableStage may be dark, but the company has replaced the rest of its virus-interrupted 2019-2020 season with a glimpse of what may be one of the evolving facets of the future of theater. It has commissioned 12 area artists to produce nine online projects that meld traditional theater with digital storytelling.
The emotional histrionics and pyrotechnic acting in the first act notwithstanding, it’s the quiet poignant moments of compassion and connection in the second act that are the most deeply affecting in Palm Beach Dramaworks’ skillful resurrection of Tennessee Williams’ The Night of the Iguana.
Efforts by City Theatre staffers to improve the consistency of its offerings has paid off: This edition of Summer Shorts is not only lushly and imaginatively produced with a noticeable extra bit of polish, but is more consistently funny and entertaining than any edition in recent memory.
Mixtapes are by definition quirky, passionate, uninhibitedly self-expressive to the edge of self-indulgence, sometimes puzzling, sometimes touching, sometimes hilarious. Mad Cat Theatre Company’s theatrical/cinematic Mixtape 2 is all that — a compilation of playlets, snatches of poetry, music videos and short films by the region’s leading progressive, avant-garde theater.
Cannily, there is not a feather in sight during the entire 85-minute The Birds at the Mosaic Theatre — appropriate because the subject is not an eerie avian apocalypse, but how humanity reacts under extreme pressure. Conor McPherson’s adaptation is far more a sociological morality tale than Daphne du Maurier’s 1952 suspenseful novelette or Alfred Hitchcock’s 1963 pure thriller.
Playwright Adam Rapp shares Beckett’s indifference to whether audiences comprehend his idiosyncratic depiction of his dark vision. But in Mosaic Theatre’s The Edge of Our Bodies, he also is writing something of weight and worth, even if you’re not at all certain what it is.
Which brings us to Rapp’s The Edge of Our Bodies closing out Mosaic Theatre’s season. This extended monologue by a high school girl reading from her journal and acting out what she has written is by turns illuminating and opaque, precise and equivocal, comprehensible and incomprehensible.