The Consequences of Fake Allyship in ‘A View From the Bridge’

Regina Victor

If you’ve studied the American Theater, chances are you’ve heard of Arthur Miller, the King of Kitchen Sink Realism. Trust me when I say, Ivo Van Hove’s A View From The Bridge is not your mother’s Arthur Miller. There isn’t a sink in sight. In fact all unnecessary props, down to certain actor’s shoes, have been eliminated. This actor-driven production features a square set with dark-colored benches and a white floor, designed by Jan Versweyveld. Audience sits on either side of the stage, meaning the actors are playing to a house that’s three-quarters in the round. It feels like a boxing ring with only one entrance and exit upstage, which adds to the feeling of being trapped in the space.

The opening image reveals Eddie Carbone (Ian Bedford), the patriarch of the family, and his friend Louis (Ronald L. Connor) wiping themselves down with wet towels and getting dressed. Their casual demeanor and act of dressing to me revealed the possibility of a romantic tryst, though it’s never verbally confirmed. During this physical sequence we are introduced to Alfieri (a dynamic Ezra Knight), the neighborhood lawyer who doles out a healthy dose of foreshadowing regarding Eddie Carbone.

As the lights shift, Alfieri takes a seat on one of the benches and observes the family scene that unfolds. Catherine Carbone (Catherine Combs) Eddie’s energetic and youthful niece, bounds through the upstage door into the space and jumps into Eddie’s arms, straddling him. An audience member can’t help but notice that Catherine seems fully grown, and even if Eddie was her father this would be an oddly intimate gesture more suited to lovers. This assumption is confirmed when they settle downstage, looking up at Eddie’s wife Beatrice (Andrus Nicholson), as Eddie strokes Catherine’s leg from ankle to thigh.

The American-Italian Carbone family has decided to host Beatrice’s two cousins who came into the country illegally to work, Rodolpho (Daniel Abeles) and Marco (Brandon Espinoza). Marco is silent and strong yet empathetic, played by Espinoza with a stoic, graceful, gravitas. Upon seeing the dashing blonde Rodolpho, portrayed by Abeles with the charming fervor of a young dreamer, Catherine dashes offstage and grabs a pair of high heels. A romance begins to bloom, igniting the fear and envy of her Uncle Eddie.

In a powerfully acted scene between Bedford and Knight, Alfieri the lawyer advises Eddie that he ought to let Catherine date Rodolpho without protest. Alarmed by Eddie’s crazed demeanor – Ian Bedford depicts Eddie with a frightening furor – Alfieri suggests there is ‘too much love’ between them. There is no law against young love, and Eddie’s only course of action (which Alfieri strongly recommends against) is to call the Immigration Bureau. The lighting design (also by Jan Versweyveld) is beautiful downlight on white, shifting from a soft tan, to a bright white, to a harsh gray that reminds us of a prison cell. My only protestation, is that looking at Alfieri and Eddie’s faces, equally expressive, the lighting failed to illuminate Alfieri the same way it did Eddie. Lighting actors of color properly is essential, and I cannot help but wonder why they did not adjust the lighting. (According to this Playbill article the design was initially for a light-skinned cast.)

A key piece of this journey is the sound design by Tom Gibbons, the Carbone family saga is scored like an epic Greek Tragedy. The dinner scene is a phenomenal collaboration between Van Hove’s direction and Gibbons’ sound. A hollow drum sound echoes between lines and almost inhabits the play as another character, reacting to and preying on their language and their silence. It creates insufferable tension.

Beatrice and Catherine also have a well-acted scene about Catherine’s affection for Eddie, where we suddenly see Beatrice might be more of a threat than we had previously assessed. Both women give fantastic performances, dancing the line between their own agendas and supporting Eddie’s fragile white masculinity.

As you may know given the popularity of this classic play, a horrendously jealous Eddie Carbone does call immigration on these two innocent immigrants, all for the “crime” of daring to love someone he thought of (rather unhealthily) as “his.” In a manner I will keep secret for those who have not seen Van Hove’s genius interpretation of this moment, Carbone meets a bloody end. His tune has completely changed from the welcoming man who believes in giving everyone a fair chance. Once Eddie realizes he cannot control these men, that they are autonomous human beings who want to build a life, he turns on them in the ugliest of ways. The crux of this story is, as the title of the review states, the consequences of Carbone’s fake allyship. You cannot pretend to want the world for your fellow man, and then take it away, without severe social and physical consequences. A harrowingly relevant production of this classic for 2017.

BIAS ALERT: I love Arthur Miller’s work, and surrealist takes on classic plays.

Pictured above: Daniel Abeles (Rodolpho), Ian Bedford (Eddie),  Catherine Combs (Catherine), Brandon Espinoza (Marco), and Andrus Nichols (Beatrice)

Photo Credit: Liz Lauren
Playwright: Arthur Miller
Director: Ivo van Hove
Scenic and Lighting: Jan Versweyveld
Costumes: An D’Huys
Sound: Tom Gibbons
Casting: Erica Sartini-Combs, Adam Belcuore
Dramaturg: Neena Arndt
Stage Manager: Kimberly McCann
Production Stage Manager: Briana J. Fahey

CAST
Eddie: Ian Bedford
Catherine: Catherine Combs
Beatrice: Andrus Nichols
Alfieri: Ezra Knight
Rodolpho: Daniel Abeles
Marco: Brandon Espinoza
Officer: James D. Farruggio

Walkabout Theater’s ‘A Persephone Pageant’ Reimagines the Demeter Myth as a Parable About Climate Change

Hallie Palladino

(Featured image: Obsessive Eye Photography)

Walkabout Theater just finished a tour of their their newest devised piece, A Persephone Pageant. My children and I caught the recent Chicago performance on the grassy lawn behind The University of Chicago’s Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts. The family friendly pageant, co-directed by Jessica Thebus and Thom Pasculli, incorporates original text by Sarah Ruhl and Morgan McNaught and features choreography by Kristina Isabelle, music by Mark Messing and puppets by K.T. Sivak and Jackie Valdez. The play updates the Demeter myth imagining Persephone as Water and Hades as Greed, remaking the story into a contemporary parable about climate change.

I was invited to the show by Rescripted’s own Founder/Editor in Chef, Regina Victor who had gone into rehearsals as the dramaturg, but soon found a role emerged in the show for them as a narrator. I caught up with Regina over morning coffee at Steppenwolf (where they are currently doing a year long artistic fellowship) just before their final performance. We conversed at length about devised theater, civic dramaturgy and the challenges of incorporating their extensive research about climate change into a family friendly theatrical performance.

H.P.: What was the genesis of A Persephone Pageant?

R.V.: It’s a project that Jessica [Thebus] and Tria [Smith] had been working on before Walkabout.  There was already text from Sarah [Ruhl], which may have been performed before this iteration. Walkabout’s approach was to take Sarah’s text and create etudes, response pieces. The ensemble all contributed elements that are in the final performance, and in that way it’s a truly devised piece.

H.P. In the show there are two actresses doing the Demeter role. One is on stilts doing movement, the other on the ground speaking the text.

R.V.: Yes. We wanted to show the duality of the human component as well as the spiritual component by having one on the ground and one on stilts. We did not do the same for Hades. Hades emerges as a human being, a singular person already on earth. That’s how we differentiate him from the other gods who are organic and multi-conscious. They speak together and move together. Whereas Hades, he has to steal things from other people to get taller. As his costume came together a decidedly Trumpian note emerged. All the metallic accents sort of echo Trump Tower. His rise is unsettling because it starts so innocently. Humans just want a shelter form the cold and from the rain. The problem is when you get too much of a good thing how does it spiral out of control? I think that’s connected to my feelings about the economy. The invisible hand that controls us, even though we created it. That’s how I think of Hades.

 (Cooper Forsman, Alex Rodriguez as Hades, Willa-Marie O’Donnell, Photo Credit: Evan Barr Photography)

H.P.: The play ends on a hopeful note however.

R.V.: Yes, we tried to incorporate Hades into the happy ending. We decided not to kill him off. That’s too easy. We can’t necessarily undo everything we’ve done. But we can use our powers for good. We can use technology to fix a lot of the damage we’ve done to the earth. For example, old subway cars are lowered into the ocean to create artificial reefs, meant to correct damage we’ve inflicted on reefs through pollution.

H.P.: And what was the creative process like?

R.V.: The way Walkabout does it is a bit magical. We all brought together our various components and skills and suddenly we looked up and we had a show. The way the script specifically came together was the text from Sarah [Ruhl] we had was mainly Demeter’s speeches when her daughter is kidnapped, and the searching for Persephone.

Morgan McNaught (they/them) had the difficult task to fill in scenes based on the physical pieces we’d created so far. We had the ending where Zeus [a giant puppet] falls apart [when the humans appeal to him for mercy]. We had the opening dance for the gods. We didn’t have words for certain events, but we knew what had to happen. Morgan came in and wrote down everything they saw. We talked on the phone about what we thought the thread of the story was and what was important to preserve in the tone of Sarah’s writing for continuity’s sake. I think that was the hardest thing Morgan had to do was match somebody else’s tone and style while still writing for themselves, they are a really dexterous writer. Not precious about language at all.

The other half of that was lots of meetings between me, Thom and Jessica. Jessica actually wrote the very first narrator scene. And then we went and edited it together. Morgan wrote words for the Lake Aria with all these technical facts about Lake Michigan (“Since 2000, over 34 billion gallons of raw sewage have been dumped into Lake Michigan”!), and I created a melody for it that Mark Messing, our Music Director, finessed into a track. I wrote the melody and words for the final chunk of that Aria, Alex brought Hades’ song, Everlasting Light into the room on the very first day. So it’s all very conflated in the best way, everyone has created something in the show.

H.P.: And how about the movement elements?

R.V.: Kristina [Isabelle], who does all of the stilt movement, doesn’t choreograph to music. You can dance her movement to any song, so its very flexible. Then Mark came in and brought music, and it’s just this weird, delightful, inspiring stuff. The music really helped us guide the movement and mood of the piece, it influenced my Lake Aria melodies for sure. The whole piece layers like a piece of music.

(Leo Pasculli, left, and Regina Victor, right, Photo Credit Evan Barr Photography)

H.P.: And you didn’t know at the beginning you were going to be performing the role of narrator?

R.V.: Walkabout thinks of themselves as a performance company. They specialize in spectacle, and they do it very well. I came on to help with script and story. I liked warming up with them and one time Jessica heard me singing, and told me to just jump into some of the ensemble stuff. Eventually it grew into the narration. Since Thom was also directing he wanted another person to balance his narrator role so he could step out and watch things. It’s been really fun, the part kept growing as weeks went by. My friend came and said, “You didn’t tell me you were one of the leads!” (though a narrator is arguably not a lead). And I said I didn’t really notice how involved I was in the show until about a week ago!

H.P.: How does writing for young audiences impact the content of the show?

It was important to Jessica the show be family friendly. She’s a mother. She wanted to create a work that would inspire audience members to have a conversation with their kids about environmental justice. Children can relate to this character of Water/Persephone which has been kidnapped, and understand that stealing from the Earth beyond your needs is bad.

My style of theater is theatrical jazz, something can be happening in your body and something can be happening in your voice, like in Jazz two instruments playing the same song. We’re jazzily thinking about climate change and mythology. The hardest part for me was making sure not to overload people with information. Some of my research made it into the Lake Aria. For instance loopholes in regulations, or backing out of the Paris Agreement. Other stuff we put on the dramaturgical boards (designed by ensemble member Alex) for people to read about after the show.

H.P.: And then Hurricane Harvey happened in between performances.

R.V.: Jessica and I had a conversation about the scene with Demeter where she’s creating havoc in the world. “The people suffered, the earth suffered, cold, heat, famine, hurricanes and earthquakes.” She was like, “You can’t throw that away. I really want people to understand the direct correlation between hurricanes and global warming.” It’s really immediate and the show made it even more immediate for me. Especially reading about the flooding in Nepal and India that has affected 41 million people killed 12,000. All the articles say it’s from rising temperatures generated by human activity. We didn’t want to shy away from that.

The ending focuses on the little things we can do now. It’s not that militant. It’s about eating one less meal of beef a week. Recycling, joining adopt a beach. Even something like not doing laundry during a rainstorm will make a difference. Chicago is build on that “dilution is the solution” theory. A theory that a little shit in the lake won’t kill us.

H.P.: Meanwhile, every sip of water we drink comes from the lake…

R.V.: I know, but their idea was from a time when we were producing much less waste. The sewage plants are designed to overflow into the lake if they reach capacity. All the water flows out in two separate pipes from your house but it all comes together at the sewage plant.

The sewage water from your house will also be running out into the lake when there is already overflow.

H.P.: On a project like this do you think of yourself as practicing civic dramaturgy? And if so how does that differ from other types of dramaturgy you do?

R.V.: Well there is civic dramaturgy and then there’s cultural dramaturgy, and there’s dramaturgy as a research and author related discipline. Cultural dramaturgy is more about bringing your personal experiences. Civic dramaturgy is far more about audience engagement. Getting your audience to take action. Oracle for instance had a show, Good Friday, about sexual assault and campus violence. They provided all these wonderful resource guides and counselors on site, ways to report, places to volunteer. They really thought through how do you take action for yourself and others. We wanted to have that kind of thorough civic engagement mindset with this project.

Climate change is something I’ve always been personally interested in but I’ve never been deeply invested from an advocacy point of view. Most of my work has been in the areas of sexual violence and racism. For this project I got to talk to a bunch of experts like Karen Hobbs at the NRDC, and Anja Claus at the Center for Humans and Nature. Figuring out how to make that complex information easily digestible was most of my job. Just parsing through, deciding what details can people hear on stage, cultivating a reading list and encouraging people to take action.

It’s easy to trivialize. But our hope with this show is to bring it to the forefront of people’s consciousness in a way that allows people to make small but meaningful changes.

H.P.: Where’s your next performance?

R.V.: Ragdale Center in Lake Forest IL.

Identity, Heritage, and Growing up in ‘Muthaland’

Muthaland at 16th Street Theater is a one woman show written and performed by the talented Minita Gandhi. It’s a showcase for her dexterity and ability to create and inhabit characters we love, and characters who make our skin crawl, as she goes on a journey to her parents homeland. In 16th Street’s bare black box theatre, there is only one practical light onstage, and the rest of the show travels on in the darkness with Minita herself. She walks down the staircase through the audience carrying her suitcases to the practical standing lamp on stage. Little did we know she was carrying the world of the play in her arms.

The opening of Minita Gandhi’s Muthaland is an energy-packed celebration of femininity and personality. She animatedly tells us about her life, her hopes for love and her family drama, which includes the upcoming wedding of her dear brother Milin. Minita separates herself as narrator by giving herself the affectionate nickname of Minu when she’s playing in a scene from history.

Minu is an independent woman, the daughter of two Indian immigrants who are audience favorites for Minita to affectionately and sometimes comedically interpret onstage. She is 35 years old, and has been getting her groove back by listening to Pink and Fiona Apple, reading The Power of Now and taking a Pranayama breathing class. After a visit to a gynecologist, Minu learns she only has two years to get a husband and have babies before she has to be concerned about freezing her eggs, and this is a terrifying enough thought that she returns to her prayer cabinet. Minu is a practicing Jain, which at more 85,000 years old is the one of the world’s oldest religions. She recites the Namokar mantra, one of the most fundamental and spiritually significant prayers in Jainism. This moment of gravitas is our first insight into bubbly actress Minu’s depth of intention and spiritual practice.

Though dramatically this is very clever, sometimes Minita playing an earlier, more innocent Minu is hard to buy. At the end of the production, when a you see a grown Minita in her mature fury and might, you understand why this character, that is so very personal and so profoundly changed in real life, might be harder for Minita to access than the multitude of personalities she brings to life onstage. These other characters are defined very specifically through gesture and voice, and it is clear who is speaking at any given time.

Minita the writer gives us access to the finer points in her life and family’s traditional customs in a delicate way that allows us to laugh at Minu’s reactions without laughing at cultural differences – which can often happen if an audience doesn’t understand something outright. Milin for example is in an arranged marriage, something Minu has a really hard time understanding at first, but once she sees how happy he is the audience is happy for him too. So, Minu is off to India, in one of the most fantastic visual moments of the play. Contained in her tiny suitcase is truly the entire world, as she pulls out costumes and scatters the stage with color as the lights (designed by Cat Wilson) flood the world with a pink and orange hue, transforming the black walls. You can feel the heat and the dust as Minu describes it to us thanks to the vivid text and suggestive design visuals. The sound also helps us understand our cultural context, as a variety of American and Bollywood love songs are played throughout the piece.

Muthaland is based off of Minita’s true experiences during her travels to India, and I do not want to spoil the surprise that is the crux of the drama in this play. I will speak to her magnificent performance of these gravity-filled moments. During a scene I will refer to as “The Interrogation” she masterfully plays a council of older Indian men who are questioning her honesty with a misogyny that will make your toes curl. Legs spread wide in a single spotlight, Minita easily embodies the threat and danger of these men as a steady heart-beat like pulse (sound by Barry Bennett) underscores their words. It conjures visceral memories of femmes being accused of lying when under threat from men, and is very hard to watch though artfully portrayed. The experience is so awful, that when it is over, it prompts Minu to tell her parents she hates India – thankfully only a temporary conclusion.

Muthaland is about the forcible growth of an already strong young woman, who was forced to undergo an emotionally and physically violent experience yet still reconcile her identity. In a spectacular final ten minutes of the play, Gandhi goes on an emotional journey from absolute devastation to a realistic healing process, perhaps even slightly optimistic about what is in her future. I commend Minita for her stamina in performing in this fabulous 90-minute production of her own work, and I can’t wait to see what productions lie in its future.

BIAS ALERT: Minita Gandhi is a friend.

Berwyn Cultural Center
6420 16th Street, Berwyn IL
August 31-October 7, 2017
Directed by Heidi Stillman
Photos by Anthony Aicardi

Assistant Director – Maeli Goren
Dramaturg – Lavina Jadhwani
Voice and Movement – Lanise Antoine Shelley
Scenic Properties – Jesse Gaffney
Lighting Design – Cat Wilson
Sound Design – Barry Bennett

Rescripted Announces ‘The Key: Youth Critics Mentorship Program’

CHICAGO (September 8, 2017) – Greenhouse Theater Center’s Artistic Director Jacob Harvey is pleased to announce The Key: Young Critics Mentorship Program, a training program for Chicago youth in arts criticism created by national online arts platform Rescripted, The Chicago Inclusion Project and entertainment critic Oliver Sava and hosted by the Greenhouse. Launching this fall, the ten-week initiative for youth ages 16 – 20 will include arts criticism workshops and lectures with the program’s creators, as well as guest speakers from all facets of the Chicago theater community. Students will attend Chicago theater productions throughout the fall season, write original critiques, undergo one-on-one editing sessions and create personal blogs to host their writing portfolio and multimedia reviews. Select critiques will also be published on Rescripted.

Applications for The Key: Young Critics Mentorship Program are currently being accepted at rescripted.org through Friday, September 22, 2017. For additional information and inquiries, please e-mail thekey.chicago@gmail.com.

“Our industry depends on having actively engaged critics who can perceive and appreciate the efforts and viewpoint of the artist,” comments Rescripted Editor-In-Chief Regina Victor. “I’m thrilled to partner with a savvy writer like Oliver Sava to co-facilitate this course in partnership with Chicago Inclusion Project, and grateful to Greenhouse Theater Center for hosting us. We are looking forward to mentoring the next generation of theater artists and writers as they learn to navigate the field of arts criticism. We want to be a part of the movement to ensure there are a multitude of critical perspectives to accommodate the increasing diversity of the stories on our stages.”

“We’ve put together a program that will give young critics the knowledge they need to start their careers, adds Oliver Sava. “This isn’t just about learning how to write reviews – it’s about helping young critics engage with what they’re watching on a deeper level, turn that engagement into pieces that will grab readers and learn how to sell that writing so they can ideally get paid for their work. This program is primarily focused on theater, but it will be multi-disciplinary because knowing how to write about a wide range of media is essential in the current arts journalism field. There are voices that could significantly enrich critical discourse in the city, and organizations like Chicago Inclusion Project and outlets like Rescripted are already working to make these voices heard.”

Chicago Inclusion Project Founder Emjoy Gavino comments, “The conversation around arts criticism, its practitioners and their ethical obligation to inclusion is truly exciting right now. As always our organization seeks to accompany talk with action we are thrilled to usher in the new wave of critics. Our community and industry deserve new voices.”

The Key: Young Critics Mentorship Program joins the Greenhouse Theater Center’s increasing number of initiatives aimed at growing Chicago theater, including the The Trellis Residency Initiative, a new professional development program for Chicago-area playwrights under 30, and the MC-10 Playwrights Ensemble, a collection of ten of the country’s most sought-after established and mid-career Chicago playwrights and theater-makers now in residence at the Greenhouse.

 

About the Program Creators/Mentors

Regina Victor is a producer, dramaturg, director and performer from Oakland California. They attended Phillips Exeter and Santa Clara University, from which they hold a B.A. in Theatre Arts and Religious Studies. Regina has worked with theatres such as Berkeley Repertory Theatre, Marin Theatre Company, Chicago Dramatists, The Hypocrites, Shattered Globe, Walkabout Theatre, and more. Victor’s writing has been published on Rescripted, Howlround and The Bold Italic. They are currently serving as the 17/18 Artistic Apprentice and Multicultural Fellow at Steppenwolf Theatre, as well as a member of the 17/18 Stage Directors and Choreographers’ Observership Class.

Oliver Sava is a Chicago-based entertainment writer focusing on comic books, television, and theater. He was a staff Theater Writer at Time Out Chicago, where he had a Performer Of The Week interview column. His writing on comic books, film, podcasts, television, and theater has been published at The A.V. Club, Chicago Theater Beat, Chicago Tribune, The L.A. Times, NPR Books, New York Magazine’s Vulture, VICE, and Vox. He is a 2017 fellow of The Eugene O’Neill Center’s National Critics Institute and a recipient of the 2017 Eisner Award for “Best Comics-Related Journalism/Periodical” for his A.V. Club writing. He graduated from Loyola University with degrees in English and Political Science, and was the dramaturg for Jackalope Theatre’s Prowess (2017 Jeff Award winner for Best New Play).

Rescripted is a collective of theatre professionals from all levels and disciplines in the field who are interested in engaging with their peers on a critical level. Founded by Regina Victor and Katherine O’Keefe, Rescripted is a national response to the need for a broader range of voices in the critical sphere. With writers in Los Angeles, Chicago, and the San Francisco Bay Area, Rescripted is shaped by its contributors’ interests, and specializes in publishing reviews, artist interviews, and essays on topics pertinent to our field. With a supportive framework in mind, Rescripted aims to reprogram the way we critically engage with each other while cultivating critics and adding new voices to the field. www.rescripted.org.

Founded by Actor/Casting Director Emjoy Gavino, The Chicago Inclusion Project is a collective of artists, committed to creating inclusive theater experiences by bringing together Chicago artists and audiences normally separated by ethnic background, economic status, gender identity, physical ability and countless other barriers. By deliberately choosing the unexpected, both in play choices and non-traditional casting, cultivating a diverse audience by bringing new combinations of artists to as many communities in Chicago (and it surrounding suburbs) as possible, choosing facilities for the multiple projects that are handicap accessible and keeping price of tickets affordable, The Chicago Inclusion Project programming aims to unite diverse collections of Chicagoans. For more information, visit www.thechicagoinclusionproject.org

About the Greenhouse Theater Center
The Greenhouse Theater Center is a producing theater company, performance venue and theatre bookstore located at 2257 N. Lincoln Ave. in Chicago’s Lincoln Park neighborhood. Our mission is first and foremost to grow local theatre.
The Greenhouse Theater began its producing life in 2014 with the smash hit Churchill, after which came 2016’s much-lauded Solo Celebration!, an 8 month, 16 event series highlighting the breadth and depth of the solo play form. This year, the Greenhouse announced a full subscription season, with a mix of multi-character and solo plays. With a focus on our community, the Greenhouse is also launching the Trellis playwriting residency, an initiative designed to cultivate the next generation of Chicago theatre creators and a two-tiered education program for college and high school students.

As a performance venue, our complex offers two newly remodeled 190-seat main stage spaces, two 60-seat studio theaters, two high-capacity lobbies, and an in-house rehearsal room. We strive to cultivate a fertile environment for local artists, from individual renters to our bevy of resident companies, and to develop and produce their work. In 2016, the Greenhouse announced a new residency program, which offers a reduced rate to local storefront companies while giving the Greenhouse a stake in the resident’s success. We house Chicago’s only dedicated used theatre bookstore, located on the second floor of our complex.

With new ideas always incubating, the Greenhouse is flourishing. Come grow with us!

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

PRESS CONTACT: David Rosenberg
David Rosenberg Public Relations
david@drpublicrelations.com / (773) 505-1429

 

A Phenomenal and Heartbreaking ‘Lela & Co.’ Extends at Steep

By Hallie Palladino

Steep Theatre has just extended its devastating and urgently important play, Lela & Co. I wanted to take a moment to recommend this production and encourage people to see it now that it has been extended through September 16th.

I feel so fortunate to have seen Cruz Gonzales-Cadel play Lela in this heartbreaking two-hander opposite Chris Chmelik. Gonzales-Cadel has phenomenal range. We immediately fall in love with Lela as she disarms us with her charm and draws us into her story.We start in Lela’s childhood home with a loving mother and a father who alternates between indulgent and abusive. The limited abilities of women to shield each other from harm is a theme established early. As the dangers around her multiply, we watch Lela transform from an innocent child into a determined and courageous woman. For his part, Chmelik plays a host of villains, each fully fleshed out, each differently evil. Written by the British playwright Cordelia Lynn when she was just twenty-six, Lela is original in every way. Lynn speaks the unspeakable and holds us all accountable.

I won’t describe or summarize the story because much of its dramatic value is in its surprises. We never know what’s about to happen and, like Lela, we feel powerless to stop the cascade of horrors that unfold as she recounts her story. I’ve never felt so much real fear, rage and despair in the theater. A big part of it was knowing, more than a play, what happens to Lela is happening to to girls and women around the world every day.

Lela examines the way women become casualties of war showing how their stories are coopted, their voices silenced and their abuse marginalized. The narrative style creates the experience of being inside the head of a women who has internalized the narrative of her abusers along side the truth of her lived experience. This gives the audience an opportunity to experience the cognitive dissonance that results from trauma. The tone of Robin Witt’s direction creates jarring juxtapositions between the events that happen to Lela and the way she describes them. Lela uses a range of coping techniques from detachment, to rationalization, to minimizing, to self-blame. All the time as her underlying grief, rage and pain are straining to be let out. By the time Lela hits its crescendo and the playwright allows her character to enact a desperately longed for moment of confrontation all the air goes out of the room.

The space has been transformed into an intimate café with limited cabaret style seating and the actors perform on raised platforms above our heads. The action happens around the audience so we’re immersed and therefore implicated in Lela’s predicament. All the design elements seamlessly support this atmosphere of fear and claustrophobia.

I must end with a really big trigger warning here. There is graphic sexual violence both portrayed and discussed. This play deals plainly with some of the darkest subject matter I’ve ever heard onstage. Lela explicates the economic and political circumstances of war and how they enable the exploitation of women. Lynn’s story also reveals the tragic irony of how third party “liberating” and “peacekeeping” forces in conflict zones participate in crimes against women. No, Cordelia Lynn’s play isn’t easy to watch, but it is essential.

BIAS ALERT: Cruz and I know each other from Something Marvelous and have bonded over having children around the same age. Likewise, I know Peter Moore, Steep’s Artistic Director, because our kids were in the same class and I’ve submitted my work to his literary department. All this just means I was already a fan of the theater and of Cruz before I went to see this play.

Extended through September 16th!

CAST:
Cruz Gonzalez-Cadel
Chris Chmelik

PRODUCTION TEAM:
Director – Robin Witt*
Stage Manager – Lauren Lassus**
Set Design – Joe Schermoly
Lighting Design – Brandon Wardell**
Sound Design – Thomas Dixon**
Costume Design  – Jessica Kuehnau Wardell
Prop Design – Maria DeFabo**
Fight Choreography – Christina Gorman
Dramaturg – Carina Abbaticchio
Assistant Directors – Michael Rogerson & Isabel Perry
Production Manager – Julia Siple*

*Denotes Steep Company Member
**Denotes Steep Artistic Associate

The Neo-Futurists ‘The Food Show’ Nourishes the Soul

By Abhi Shrestha

Everything I’ve seen by the Neo-Futurists has always had an inherent sense of vulnerability and a fearless raw honesty which always allows me leave the show knowing the performers intimately. Their new venture, boldly titled The Food Show and created by Dan Kerr-Hobert, is no different . Performed in Metropolitan Brewing’s warehouse in Avondale, the Neos have transformed the warehouse into a badass kitchen stocked with all of the things you might need and have created an a night of adventure structured around a menu. When the audience enters the space, the writer-performers come up and ask everyone about their food allergies, because no one is trying to die tonight. Though unfortunately not everyone gets to eat throughout the night, everyone does get a complimentary beer (which if you’re lucky enough to get an orange slice during the night, I recommend putting it in the beer for a lovely, refreshing summer drink) .

In classic Neo fashion, they strike up friendly conversation with the audience before the performance begins. This simple act of making conversation does a lovely job in building a performer/ audience relationship that allows both sides to feel more comfortable and able to be vulnerable. The performers take us through a culinary journey, cooking up stories of their past to present to us on a plate. They demonstrate various cooking techniques, and explore different culinary philosophies before focusing on a story by one of the performers. Like being in the kitchen of a friend or family, the performers tell stories while cutting onions, making pasta, poaching an egg, or making a roux. The themes of the stories run the gamut of emotions, whether it’s about the healing powers of food and cooking, the frustrating chore it is to eat for some folx and the privilege it is to be a picky eater, or about how food has the ability to bring people closer together or drive kids at the lunch table apart. One story that stood out for me was Tif Harrisons story about the food as therapy, something that can dig you out of a place that feels so dark, to one that has some light. The ensemble is really tight, and though the energy of the piece could use a kick or two throughout the night, there is a simple beauty in watching people listen to each other.

Listening doesn’t just mean being quiet, it means being present, and the presence is felt from everyone in the room. This sense of presence is also amplified by the various design elements. With a giant mirror that hovers about the countertop the audience is invited to a closer view of the action that is happening on the table, which allows us to closely follow along with each step of the recipe. The lighting design is a feat in this non-traditional venue that is not inherently equipped with the tools and architecture that can be found in a conventional theatre. The lighting does a fantastic job helping the audience focus in on the action in front of us, and works harmoniously with the music to create an atmosphere that feels curated for each story. The music composed by Ronnie Kuller and performed by Spencer Meeks stands out as they either play piano, sing, or make sounds with a singing bowl, that allows the transitions into various stories feel seamless, and helps with the pacing of the night.

The Food Show is an examination of the role food and cooking has had on every one of us. I felt invited to have different opinions without feeling like I was in a battle or being left out of a conversation. Food means so much to so many people, as someone who immigrated to America when I was three, cooking home recipes and eating my mother’s cooking was how I hold on to my culture. Food is how I get to know people, I can tell a lot about someone by what they cook, and what they eat, and I felt that I came out of The Food Show really knowing these humans. There were pieces of myself that I found in so many of the stories I heard that night, whether it was the difficulty of cutting meat out of my diet for ethical reasons, or how often we don’t realize how our eating habits tell us so much about ourselves. Leaving the theatre I was reminded of a quote by Krista Tippet from her book Speaking about Faith, “You can disagree with another person’s opinions. You can disagree with their doctrines. You can’t disagree with their experience.” At the end of the night I left the show hungry for some salmon, but satisfied knowing that I wasn’t alone.

Photo Credit: Joe Mazza/Brave Lux

The Food Show runs through Sept. 2nd at Metropolitan Brewing, 3031 N. Rockwell.

Song of I, Song of Us: Marcus Gardley’s black odyssey at California Shakespeare Theater

By Jerome Joseph Gentes

August 13, 2017
In my blood Lakota Sioux culture, we call chants of praise honor songs. This is an honor song for Marcus Gardley, and the CalShakes production of his new play black odyssey that opened last night. I want to state right out that I’m writing this on Sunday, August 13, the day after the murders and radical domestic terrorism in Charlottesville. I’m writing this under the cloud of the last few years of racial violence. I’m writing this under the shadow that the current Executive Branch of the Federal Government is casting over the land. I don’t want to pretend otherwise.

A soldier’s homecoming after war is never a simple story, never simply going from point A to B. Any traveler under any circumstance who gets lost and veers off course does not unravel a simple story. Combining those two tropes, and stirring in hefty doses of subplot by way of interference from gods, human nature, and nature itself, Homer (like others) added to a small but vital shelf of epic narratives for all times and all peoples. Small wonder that The Odyssey has inspired novels like James Joyce’s Ulysses and plays like Father Comes Home from the Wars (Parts 1, 2 & 3) by Suzan-Lori Parks. It has also inspired Oakland’s Marcus Gardley, and with black odyssey he has achieved something extraordinary: a personal and public take on Homer’s poem that not only stands alongside the original–it reflects and expands the epic and the other great works it has inspired.

Directed by Artistic Director Eric Ting, the exceptional cast of nine includes J. Alphonse Nicholson as the hero, Ulysses Lincoln, Omozé Idehenre as his faith-tested wife, Nella Jerome Pell, and Michael Curry as grown Malachai, the son born during his absence. I’m naming these characters and actors first because Gardley, Ting, and company have foregrounded the human story of a husband who has wed a woman, but hasn’t had the chance to perform his husbandly role and responsibilities. A man who has fathered a child but hasn’t had a chance to occupy and perform the role of parent. Likewise, Nella is Ulysses’s wife, but has had to live–and love–for 16 years without him, while Malachai has grown up like too many boys do–mothered, but unfathered. Gardley’s script plumbs the breadths and depths of this broken dynamic in ways that make it fresh and vital, and Ting wisely puts all three actors front and center. Nicholson actually spends much of his time at the very edge of the stage, making music on upturned five-gallon buckets as point and counterpoint to the action. Gardley preserves the Homeric framing device of deities at play with mortal lives in a chess match with dire consequences for humanity between Great Grand Daddy Deus, played by the orotund Lamont Thompson and Great Grand Paw Sidin, the oracular Aldo Billingslea.

The rage and grief and despair that play out for Nella and Malachai alone are the height of drama. Fortunately for them, the play, and for the audience, the Athena character, Tina, who Gardley makes a distant great aunt, moves in to help Nella raise Malachai. As played by the wonderful Margo Hall, Tina transitions from Olympian divinity in her gorgeous Ashanti gown to house-bound helper in caftan and leopard leggings and back again.

A third family, the Sabines, plays a key part in Gardley’s (re-)imagining: Alsendra, Artez, and Benevolence Sabine, played respectively by Dawn L. Troupe, Michael Gene Sullivan, and Safiya Fredericks. Ulysses encounters them early on his attempted journey home, where they’re on a New Orleans rooftop to escape the rising tides. Tides of Hurricane Katrina, tides of racism, tides of history, and tides of memory. Benevolence joins Ulysses for much of his journey home, and the Odyssey episodes weave in and out of their own adventures as well as the hero’s storytelling. Two such episodes were particularly spectacular: the Sirens episode, which gives Thompson a chance to play a pimped-out Granddaddy Tiresias, Troupe to play Diana Ross, Hall to do Tina Turner, and Sullivan to tear up the trunktop of a gold Caddy convertible as James Brown. Even better (and “better” is a relative word amidst such strong ensemble performances) is Troupe’s performance as Calypso, who tempts Ulysses with a monologue about food that had the audience salivating as she caresses every sound and syllable.

Gardley’s script is as lyric as anything I’ve ever heard or read, and I have read and heard a lot of song and poetry. (I cannot wait to re-read it in print, so if you’re a publisher, hurry and snap up the rights–no, the privileges–to publish this play.) There’s rhyme and rhythm, music and musings, imagery and idea to spare that not only honor the original; they take the original and this, its variation, further into the realm of timelessness. And the production honors every word. The simple yet stunning set design by Michael Locher consists of a grid of white-gold square pillars of varying heights. Xavier Pierce’s illuminations, darknesses, and shadows and Carlis Roberts’s sounds and silences transform them from the realm of the gods to project hallways and from BART and police stations. And because Ulysses Lincoln mentions that he enlisted in the military post-9/11, I thought more than once of the ruins of the World Trade Center. At the climax of the play–a deeply moving encounter between Ulysses and one of his female ancestors that reminded me of a moment in the great Toni Morrison’s Beloved–one of the pillars pivots around to spectacular effect.

Gardley’s play sings a song of society and selfhood, but more importantly, it gathers up humanity, history, memory, and storytelling into one magnificent performance poem. I haven’t seen Parks’s version of the Homeric myth, so I can’t compare them, and I don’t think I’d have to. black odyssey is a collective and collected chorus that rings true and necessary for our moment, and for moments to come. We too have a long journey to make, a long homecoming path to trod to get to the America we seem to be on the verge of losing. black odyssey is an imaginative roadmap for the heroism we’ll need.

Directed by Eric Ting
Closes Sept. 3rd
Ticket and Program Information
Photo Credit: Kevin Berne

Black Lives Black Words Centers Black Women

Black Lives, Black Words is an artistic movement that began in Chicago but has since had events in two continents, three countries, and seven cities. Producer and playwright Reginald Edmund began this venture with Executive Producer Simeilia Hodge-Dallaway in 2015, prompting playwrights and spoken word artists to respond to the question “do black lives matter?”

The resounding response: not only do black lives matter but black art does too. As Edmund has said “There isn’t anything particularly revolutionary about what ‘Black Lives, Black Words’ is doing in and of itself, it’s the fact that we are doing what so many organizations and institutions that have scammed off of the diversity and inclusion discussion, and that have the resources should be doing or failing to do, which is what makes us a revolutionary theatrical endeavor. Giving artists of color actual control over their own narratives, and giving the community voice, access, and space to be heard, as well as bridging communities with a shared global dialogue.”

There are a few events to look out for if you’re trying to catch a BLBW event this August. Starting August 14th at 7:30pm they are partnering with Collaboraction to host the “Our America Party.” Part of a greater “Our America” series, this project asked local people of color, LGBTQ+ and female playwrights and directors to speak on the state American Dream. Artists featured include Arti Ishak, Rohina Malik (Yasmina’s Necklace can be seen at the Goodman later this year), Dana Lynn Formby, Tanuja Jagernauth, and many more.

On August 21st, Black Lives Black Words is hosting a TEDTalks inspired speaker series called THE ARTIST SPEAKS, where legends such as prominent director Ron OJ Parson, and Malik Gillani, Artistic Director of Silk Road Rising, will speak to the history and state of the arts in America, and what lies in the future.

These events culminate in the third Black Lives, Black Words Event, this year to be held at Victory Gardens Theater August 22nd at 7:30pm. What’s different about this year? Every piece is written, produced, and directed by black women and femmes. Playwrights include Loy Webb, Nambi Kelly, Adia Alli, and directors include Nicole Michelle Haskins and BLBW’s Executive Director, Simeilia Hodge-Dallaway.

See what participating artists have to say about Black Lives Black Words this year:

“BLBW is an innovative, hard-hitting, internationally scoped project that focuses on the truth telling of the Black narrative in this country and beyond. I am so thrilled to have been asked to contribute a piece on something I am very passionate about, and to be able to witness the talents of all the other artists involved. I am particularly thrilled that all of the pieces in this installment are directed and written by women. Reggie Edmund is certainly doing his part to be a game-changer in the field of producing. I am humbled and grateful to be a part.” – Nambi Kelley (Playwright, Actor)

“I had the pleasure of covering BLBW’s for Newcity when it first started. It was a rough and raw idea at that point, finally coming to fruition. Since then it has turned into a refined movement that is touching lives both in the states and abroad. Seeing this movements growth first hand, shows the impact that artist truly committed to the community can have and you don’t need huge institutions behind you to be a force. And now that the movement is branching out giving women a voice, and addressing our current political climate, just shows that this movement that Reggie and Sim have helmed, isn’t just talking about change like most folks do. They are creating it from the ground up. And I am sincerely grateful and honored to lend my artistry to further their cause.” – Loy Webb (Playwright, Critic)

Tickets are an accessible $10-13 for events, check out http://www.blacklivesblackwords.org for more information!

 

 

The Comrades ‘In The Wake’ Examines Liberal Blind Spots Post 9/11

Lisa Kron’s 2010 play In the Wake, produced by The Comrades at the Greenhouse Theater, revisits the political events of 2000-2005 beginning with the Supreme Court decision in Bush vs. Gore. In the Wake is concerned with the ways American liberals, especially privileged white coastal liberals, develop blind spots that prevent them from fully understanding the life circumstances that might cause a person to cultivate a conservative viewpoint. This is a timely subject in the wake of Trump’s rise to power, although the play predates it. The play makes important points about the state of American political discourse though it is somewhat weighted down by an unwieldy structure.

The play centers around a twenty-something woman, Ellen (Rose Sengenberger), a liberal New Yorker distraught about the 2000 election. The play is populated by Ellen’s boyfriend Danny (Mike Newquist), his sister Laurie (Erin O’Brien), Laurie’s wife, Kayla (Adrienne Matzen) and their friend Judi (Kelli Walker). Ellen divides her time between non-profit work and traveling around the country making speeches about the unintended consequences of public policy. At an engagement at Harvard she reconnects with a childhood friend, Amy (Alison Plot), and they begin an affair.

Unwilling to leave her current relationship, Ellen asks Danny to accept her involvement with Amy, and perhaps in the wake of some guilt about his own long since confessed infidelity, he resigns himself to the fact his girlfriend is in a second relationship. Meanwhile Amy falls madly in love with Ellen and begs her to leave Danny. But Ellen is in denial about how much emotional damage she is inflicting on both her lovers. Meanwhile, Laurie and Kayla strongly disapprove and their relationship with Ellen is badly strained.

The best moments zeroed in on Ellen’s relationships. Alison Plot’s performance as Amy was a highlight. Plot does a nice job of portraying the agonizing experience of loving someone who is emotionally unavailable. The brief but touching love scene between Ellen and Amy is one of the most engaging moments of the play. And when Ellen makes things worse with empty platitudes about holding Amy in her heart, Amy’s pain feels very real. Kelli Walker’s performance as the world-weary Judi is also notable. Judi brings perspective about growing up poor in a small conservative town and then spending her career abroad working in refugee camps. Walker’s deadpan delivery also brings some much needed humor into an otherwise very serious play.

Ellen’s character mainly talks at her friends and family, this is by design. The point of the play is that Ellen sincerely believes if other people just had the same information they would always agree. Rose Sengenberger plays Ellen as passionate and earnest so we understand it is not malice on her part but rather an astounding lack of self awareness, which Kron uses to make a point about the way liberals have contributed to the bitter partisanship that is dividing our country.

Unfortunately Ellen’s long speeches have the impact of slowing down the pace. To compound this the action is broken up by news clips and direct address monologues giving this two hour and twenty minute show a choppy stop-and-start effect. The play relies heavily on historical footage to establish what’s happening in the outside world. But news clips alone, though they might have an emotional impact, are not inherently dramatic. Unfortunately, the current events in the play often feel like a backdrop, rarely integrated into the story in a way that impacts the lives of the individual characters.

What I was really missing from the play ultimately was a connection between the personal and the political. There are two plots but they don’t intersect or illuminate each other in more than an abstract way except for a very brief conversation about 911. For instance, in a surprising omission, although the play is set pre-marriage equality, little is said about the fact the fact Laurie and Kayla’s marriage isn’t legally recognized. The practical and emotional hardships this situation created go unmentioned. This is one example of a place where the play could’ve connected the dots between its character’s hopes and dreams and the political landscape of the country at that time.

In spite of these structural and story challenges, the cast brings a lot of heart to their performances and the play makes an important point. That Americans of all political persuasions could do better job of listening to opposing viewpoints.

About Face Youth Ensemble’s ‘Brave Like Them’: Explosive, Feminist, and Unapologetically Queer

By Regina Victor

About Face Youth Theatre Ensemble’s Brave Like Them is an exciting and dynamic exploration of cultural movements and gender expression infused with feminist punk. The show is entirely devised and performed by the members of the About Face Youth Theatre Ensemble and co-directed by About Face’s Education and Outreach Director Ali Hoefnagel and Education Coordinator Kieran Kredell. The script was well-written, and memorable, especially impressive because the age range for the ensemble that devised it is 13-23 years old. The play takes place in the Riot Grrl movement of the 1990s, an underground punk feminist movement that originated Washington state, credited with being the beginning of third wave feminism. Famous bands that came out of that era include Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, and Sleater-Kinney. Brave Like Them takes us to Washington state in that era, and investigates both the successes of the movement but also the racial and class discrepancies – most of the voices of this movement were middle class, white cisgender women.

The set (designed by Scott Penner) is papered with posters from iconic punk acts like Joan Jett, and the young people roam the space at the top of the show, cleverly setting our place and time. A couple of the ensemble members were talking to an audience member, and pretended to be mystified and confused by his cell phone flashlight, much to everyone’s amusement. Complete with twinkling bulb lights and alley seating, it’s hard not to feel like you’re at a real punk show when the actors break into their energetic opening dance highlighted by multicolored club lights (lighting by Kaili Story).

Danni (Kyla Norton) and their best friend Jamie (Sandy Nguyen) are old friends reunited after Danni lived in racist Tacoma for six years. As they try to find their place in the punk movement, Danni wonders why more of their favorite punk bands don’t look like them. Danni’s old crush Sam (a charismatic and stylish Ophelia Ashley Murillo) conveniently comes waltzing back into Danni’s life, asking if they would like to hang out at a venue called The Crocodile. There, they meet femme superstar Hannah (Lilian McGrady)  who chants her feminist manifesto “Girls to the front!” over a thrumming bass to an adoring crowd. Danni’s friend Jamie gets all up in this movement and finds her sense of self, immediately changing her aesthetic to match what a Riot Grrl is “supposed” to look like, complete with leather jacket, red lips and fishnets, Nguyen does a wonderful job portraying both Jamie’s bravado and her emotional complexity as she struggles balance her new Riot Grrl friends with Danni.  The costume design by Jeanine Fry informs us where each character is in their lives and gender expressions effortlessly. Danni, still trying to find their identity, is in their school uniform for most of the play.

While Jamie is off with the Riot Grrls, Danni meets some new friends in the form of an energetic ensemble that hangs out and plays punk music in the school gym. Noa (Jude Gordon), Coe (Jimbo Pestano) and Chris (Ben Flores), are all punk rockers who used to roll with Hannah until her movement got too exclusionary. We see this demonstrated very clearly when one of Hannah’s shows includes the words “no dudes no dykes no douchebags.” Coe uses they/them pronouns, Noa ze/sir, and Chris he/him. Chris points out that he is often excluded from feminist dialogue like Hannah’s because of his male presentation, but that erases the portion of his life where he was perceived as female, and his ability to talk about those injustices. Chris poses an interesting question: how can he possibly convince other people his masculinity isn’t a threat? It’s a really interesting argument that I’ve heard socially but was refreshing to see onstage, and Ben Flores’ thoughtful portrayal of this character really shines.

Coe and Noa were equally amazing ensemble members, with Noa’s dry wit cutting across the dialogue and generating big laughs from the audience. Noa refers to Jamie as the girl who “suddenly has all the buttons.” As someone who’s worked in community organizing, I found this particularly hilarious – there is always one eager person who shows up with 80 buttons on their jacket even though they’ve been to two rallies. In order to describe Jimbo Pestano’s portrayal of Coe, I have to be colloquial: Coe was serving band frontperson intersectional realness in a crop top and a flannel blazer with shoulder pads and skinny jeans. Serving. All. Day. One particularly fantastic lyric voiced by Coe and Danni I will be singing to all of my cisgender friends was “Nice gender, did your mommy pick it out?!”

The entire ensemble was strong, but there were many other notable performances, including the hilariously spacey record store clerk (Sharon Pasia), who encourages Danni to be a part of the movement, and not a part of the crowd. Danni’s mother, played by Mia Vivens, gives an endearing performance as a mother who has to navigate a new relationship with her child. Fresh from a divorce and struggling financially, she is often anxious and sometimes angry (but only, as she rightfully points out, because she’s black and had to sell her business and live in Tacoma at her husband’s behest for six years – I feel you sis), but never gives up on loving her family fiercely.

Brave Like Them is about the power of friendship, the discovery of personal identity, and the multifaceted aspects a movement needs to have so that it can succeed. It examines our fear of breaking apart systems and movements when we have nothing to replace them with, even if the movement is imperfect. A movement needs to encompass all people, or it inevitably dies. However, Brave Like Them does not condemn these movements, but examines how even when they are fleeting, even when we find ourselves in opposition to them, they can help us find the most important parts of ourselves.

Brave Like Them closes August 6th: http://aboutfacetheatre.com/

Directors: Ali Hoefnagel & Kieran Kredell
Assistant Dir: Donny Acosta
Devised by the About Face Youth Theatre Ensemble

FEATURING
Ophelia Ashley Murillo
Charlie Blackburn
Melody Derogatis
Ben Flores
Jude Gordon
Liv Haman
Elliot Hobaugh
Lillian McGrady
Sandy Nguyen
Kyla Norton
Sharon Pasia
Jimbo Pestano
Jae Taylor

PRODUCTION
Production Manager: Melissa Hubbert
Music Director: Nicholas Davio
Choreographer: Erin Kilmurray
Asst. Choreographer: Gabrielle Wilson
Lighting Designer: Kaili Story
Sound Designer: Brandon Reed
Costume Designer: Jeanine Fry
Set Design: Scott Penner
Prop Design: Meghan Erxleben
Stage Manager: Kasey Trouba
Asst. Stage Manager: Serena Dully

Photo Credit: (left to right) Jude Gordon, Ben Flores, Kyla Norton and Jimbo Pestano in About Face Youth Ensemble Theatre’s world premiere of Brave Like Them, co-directed by Ali Hoefnagel and Kieran Kredell. Photo by Emily Schwartz.

BIAS ALERT: I directed for the About Face Out Front 2017 Series, and identify as genderqueer.