Theatre Reviews

Best Music in a So-So Musical

by Nick Smith March 5, 2008

South Hall

July 19-22, 2007.

Footlight Players Theatre

www.footlightplayers.com

He can sing. He can write and play top-notch music. His lyrics balance LOL irony with the harsh realities of life. He’s Toby Singer, musical director of the Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim synagogue and writer of songs like “Big Empty Room” and “The STD Song” for his stage musical, South Hall. A thoroughly modern student-led storyline and some killer tunes couldn’t stop South Hall from being a half-assed production, despite competent acting and singing from Patrick Melton, Regan Blum, Tony Nappo, and others. It wasn’t all director David Frederick’s fault — according to Frederick, Singer insisted on casting and narrative choices that made the show hard to follow. It seems that all this blossoming Sondheim needs is a Jerome Robbins to back him up.

Best Black Comedy

by Nick Smith March 5, 2008

Colder than Here

April 6-28, 2007. PURE Theatre.

Colder than Here had the elements of a British farce — an exasperated father, outspoken daughters, and a mother trying to keep the household together. But in a play where the main prop was a cardboard coffin, the subject matter was bleak at best. Nevertheless, PURE’s production matched the bittersweet drama of a woman’s final days with germane comedy. From the outset, the family was aware of the mother’s death and struggled to cope. The cast, led by Cynthia Barnett, managed to laugh in the face of death and show that life must go on, even when there’s a coffin in the middle of your living room.

Best Imaginary Set

by Nick Smith March 5, 2008

Cloud Tectonics

March 9-23, 2007. PURE Theatre.

PURE Theatre has always strived to strip down the artifice of theater with minimal props and sets. But in Cloud Tectonics, a play where lovers lose track of time and space, they constructed an entire (invisible) set by chalking the outlines of walls and furniture on the stage, as actors sometimes do in rehearsals. The audience had to imagine the rest. Amazingly, it worked. With nothing for the eyes to wander to, the actors held our rapt attention for the duration of Jose Rivera’s magical realist play. We cared deeply about their relationships and their fates — no set required.

Best Oh Shit! Moment in a Play

by Nick Smith March 5, 2008

Shining City

Ran Aug. 31-Sept. 22, 2007 at PURE Theatre.

If the audience wasn’t blown away by the performances in PURE Theatre’s Shining City or playwright Conor McPherson’s way with words, there was always the twisted finale. The main character, a therapist called Ian (R.W. Smith), is visited throughout the play by John (Mark Landis), a dull man whose life has been spiced up by the reappearance of his dead wife. Is he being haunted or does he need therapy? When the ghost finally appeared, the effect on the audience was stunning. A combination of costume (a bright red coat), makeup, and staging created an image strong enough to keep this reviewer awake long into the wee hours of the night.

Review: Village Playhouse tells a tale from the cell phone crypt

by Nick Smith March 3, 2010

My Gramps died last year at the ripe old age of 83. He was a fun-loving man with a childlike sense of wonder for computers and contraptions. Every month, Facebook asks me if I want to reconnect with him.

Gramps got an account a year before he passed away. Every time his name pops up on the site, it’s like a kick in the heart. But his page is more than a digital memorial. It’s an eerie kind of afterlife for my gadget-loving Gramps.

In Dead Man’s Cell Phone, Gordon Gottlieb leaves vestiges of his life behind when he dies suddenly in a desolate café. A nosy lady called Jean answers his ringing phone, meets with his weird family, and tries to right the wrongs he committed while he was alive. Along the way she is attracted to Gordon’s brother Dwight. However, since this play is written by Sarah Ruhl who likes to give her work a magical realist touch, Jean might end up in some strange Starbucks purgatory instead of with her newfound love.

Director Keely Enright knows her Mt. Pleasant audience well. She keeps the comedy broad so that some of the play’s more esoteric touches don’t put people off. Rather than being a mousy creature slowly coming out of her shell, the Village Playhouse’s version of Jean is very active — she starts answering Gordon’s phone quickly, speaks loudly, and shares quizzical looks with the audience when she hears something surprising. The other characters are equally overstated: Dwight is amusingly meek, overshadowed by his more powerful brother and browbeaten by his mother. The elder Mrs. Gottlieb is a cross between an aging stage diva and a boorish English aristocrat.

Hermia is Gordon’s wife. She sublimates her fantasies in respect of her husband’s wishes, internalizes her feelings but then shares them with Jean. There’s also a mysterious, impressively feminine Other Woman, who has known Gordon for a long time and wants her share of his legacy. Though dead, Gordon himself is a pivotal character. He even gets a lengthy monologue in the second act.

Angela White plays the heroine, following a trail of phone messages to Gordon’s home and far beyond. Her character’s relationship with Dwight is believable, even though it happens rapidly; as Dwight, Josh Wilhoit is so lovable that we root for him to get the girl. Susan Kattwinkel performs the role of Hermia with the right amount of wifely weariness, and it’s fun to see her get more impulsive as she escapes from Gordon’s shadow. Stacy Rabon is enjoyable to watch as the other woman, particularly in her funny first scene. Dave Reinwald seems a little shaky on a few of his lines, but he’s playing a scatterbrained dead guy, so he gets away with it and accomplishes two hard tasks — convincing the audience to empathize with the obnoxious Gordon, and helping them to understand the quirky plot.

The real star of the show is Samille Basler, who creates a powerhouse version of the demented Mrs. Gottlieb. Aided by Julie Ziff’s outrageous costumes, Basler is angry, mournful, pathetic, and downright scary. She’s a Cruella de Vil for the cell phone set, raging against the machines in our pockets.

The story’s hard to swallow, but Enright and her company bring out the central love story without sacrificing Ruhl’s smart ideas. Gordon’s gone, but his relatives’ love for him grows, partly because of the cell phone he left behind. Mrs. Gottlieb is comforted by the thought that he exists somewhere on hold, waiting for her.

THEATRE ‌ War of the Roses

by Nick Smith February 28, 2007


The Subject Was Roses

Running through March 10, 2007

The Village Playhouse

It’s 1946 and a war is raging. Old wounds are reopened and alliances shift as family members fight against each other. This psychological conflict is waged between a son and his parents in a little house in the Bronx. Each combatant is fighting for some personal freedom.

Mr. and Mrs Cleary don’t mean to fight. They’re excited when their son Timmie (Adam Miles) returns home from World War II. They throw a $100 party for him and do everything they can to make him feel welcome. Dad (played by Michael Easler) takes him to a game; Mom (Lucille Keller) makes him waffles, his favorite breakfast. But three years in the Army have changed Timmie. He’s outgrown all his old clothes, his religious beliefs have been shaken, and he prefers bacon and eggs.

The characters in Frank D. Gilroy’s autobiographical play aren’t unlikable; the actors highlight the witty, humorous aspects of the script, and Easler makes the antagonistic dad particularly sympathetic. But as the mother and father grow jealous of the bond each has with their son, their painful flaws become apparent — there are no perfect heroes in these petty hostilities.

Mother Nettie wants to hold onto Timmie so tight that she literally pinches him, takes her waffle-making way too seriously, and frequently urges her son to make guilt trips to see his physically challenged grandpa. Mr. Cleary likes his coffee strong, his women loose, and his alcohol — well, let’s just say he likes his alcohol. Timmie has all the tact of a two-year-old, asking his parents questions that bring up some ugly responses.

All the action takes place on a finely detailed period set designed by Keely Enright and decorated by Julie Ziff. It’s authentic down to the working fridge and the newspaper that wraps Nettie’s cherished roses. Technical Director Dave Reinwald also handles the lighting, which suffers from a couple of slow cues and a pale white light in one part of the living room. It makes the actors look ghostly pale, which creates an effective subtext when Mr. Cleary talks about what might have been if he’d gone to war himself, but doesn’t do anyone else any favors.

Director Enright makes good use of the stage, keeping the 40-year-old play fresh and lively. Only one piece of blocking — when Nettie and Timmie fall down and sit on the floor — goes on for too long.

The actors have memorable chances to develop their characters; Keller shows some powerful acting chops when Nettie reminisces about meeting her husband. In a couple of other moments she’s hard to hear, but she always holds the audience’s attention. Miles’ acting has improved since he starred in last year’s Arsenic and Old Lace at the Footlight Theatre, appearing more confident on the stage as Timmie struggles to recover from his hangovers and hangups.

When John Cleary threatens or swipes at his son, the part seems intended for a bigger, brawnier actor than the slim Michael Easler. The rest of the time he’s utterly believable in the role.

This is a strong production with a witty script and intelligent acting, recommended for ’40s music lovers (for the great incidental tunes) and 20-something momma’s boys still living with their parents. But be warned. When the characters aren’t boozing, they’re either talking about eating or drinking or contemplating it. Grab a bite or hit the bar before The Subject was Roses starts, or you’ll be left feeling mighty thirsty.

Review: Charleston Stage’s Prohibition-era Twelfth Night is all laughs

by Nick Smith February 26, 2010

The poster and program cover for Charleston Stage’s Twelfth Night hints at mystery and danger. It shows a silhouetted man with a long cigar, its smoke wreathing into a dark blue sky. He tips the brim of his hat with the muzzle of his handgun. This unknown gangster has stepped out of some film noir fantasy, ready for a cold stint in a Dashiell Hammett nightscape.

In the actual show everything is played for laughs, from the major mistaken identity scenes to a minor appearance from a pair of Keystone Kops. For this production, director and company founder Julian Wiles has reset Shakespeare’s popular comedy in a Prohibition-era speakeasy, full of tough-talking hoods, flappers, and molls. The text is the same but the attitude is sassier.

Wiles and his cast get a big kick out of the update. Duke Orsino (played by Christopher M. Diaz) is now a Godfather. The woman he loves, Countess Olivia (Amber Mann), owns the gin joint. Her steward Malvolio (a hysterical Kyle W. Barnette) is a bartender and their fool Feste (James Lombardino) is a stand up comic and crooner. Audiences will enjoy the scenario too, as Wiles effectively translates Shakespeare’s humor by using slapstick and keeping his characters constantly in motion.

As The Duke pines for Olivia (“if music be the food of love…”), a gun battle erupts in a back alley. Sebastian (Justin Tyler Lewis) is shot, presumed dead. His twin sister Viola (Lindsey Lamb) disguises herself as a man and goes to work for the Duke. He uses her to send messages to Olivia and — alas and alack! — the Countess falls in love with Viola. Meanwhile, Olivia’s drunken uncle Toby Belch (Nat Jones) and bar maid Maria (Jan Gilbert) punk the gullible Malvolio to such an extent that he lands up in a straitjacket.

The show benefits from a strong, well-rehearsed cast. Most of the actors have a good grasp of the antiquated text, although some of Diaz’s lines are rushed or lacking in depth. We suspect this has as much to do with a directive to hurry the story along as it does with Diaz’s acting skills. Jones and Lamb have a particularly good idea of the play’s saucy subtext.

Apart from humor, the show also emphasizes imagery. Costume designer Barbara Young evokes the ’20s while giving all the main characters a distinct identity, decking out the Duke in a brilliant white suit and black shirt, Olivia in elegant gowns, and Malvolio in a golfing outfit complete with yellow stockings, cross-gartered. Wiles’ set also helps the jazz age vibe with a clever cutaway revealing the alley behind. Cannily, he uses the split set continuously so that there are no big pauses between scenes. Wiles also designs the lighting, making a good muted use of the color blue.

A lot is gained from the new setting, which creates a comic counterpiece to the 1955 gangster movie Joe Macbeth. But there’s something missing, too. All great comedies have elements of seriousness as well, so that we believe in the characters and truly care about them. In this version of Twelfth Night, a vein of melancholy goes unmined. There’s nary a hint of the bitter sadness of unrequited love in the Duke’s famous opening speech. It’s impossible to worry about the plight of the twins when they bound clownishly in and out of their scenes. And it’s hard to believe that Olivia would fall in love with Viola in her guise of the brash, abrasive Cesario.

Wiles and his cast are intelligent people. They must know that to create a powerful theatrical experience, they need their audience to feel dark emotions as well as light ones, to sympathize with the antagonists as well as cheering the good guys. This Twelfth Night is a funny, entertaining show, but it could be so much more, especially considering the talent involved.

Quirky play at Village Playhouse explores technology and mortality

by Nick Smith February 24, 2010

Some guys seem hell-bent on irritating the people around them with their obnoxious phone manners. In a practically deserted diner, Jean gets so annoyed by the unremitting ringing of Gordon Gottlieb’s cell that she answers it. It turns out that he’s got a good reason for not returning his calls: he’s dead. Jean’s simple act of answering a stranger’s phone sets her on a life-changing adventure. It links her with Gordon’s strange family, which includes a snooty mom, a lonely widow, an unpretentious brother, and a mysterious “other woman.”

Despite the high concept, this is not an Agatha Christie-style mystery or a Hitchcockian whodunit. Sarah Ruhl’s play is an examination of the connections and disconnections created by modern technology. Our friends and family may be a button press away, but has that made our relationships stronger or do we actually take less time to see them in the flesh?

In other plays like The Clean House and Eurydice, the imaginative Ruhl proved she could use theatrical conventions to explore language, movement, and human relationships in fresh and interesting ways. Here she incorporates a ubiquitous modern device into a stage drama, merging classic storytelling with current cultural concerns.

“Ruhl understands our growing dependence on the machines we carry in back pockets,” says Keely Enright, who directs the Village Playhouse version of Dead Man’s Cell Phone. “I hadn’t read a play that articulated that and made it such a human story. The way she marries the two elements made it compelling to me. I wanted to see it on stage.”

Enright cast Angela White in the lead. “She doesn’t often have lead roles. She played the mom in A Christmas Story. She’s a character actress who has a fantastic handle on who Jean is. I think Sarah Ruhl would love her interpretation.”

Dave Reinwald plays the dead dude. “There’s a lot to Gordon,” says Enright, adding that he’s “more than just his body.” Samille Basler is his mother Mrs. Gottlieb. “She’s a genius at playing sweet characters, villains, and everything in between. She’s the least likeable character in this show with the most shades of gray.” As the widow, Susan Kattwinkle portrays “probably the loneliest, most damaged character. She gives us a sense of the isolation of being married to Gordon and the aftermath or being freed of him.”

Stacey Rabin is the mysterious other woman. Enright can’t say much about her — she is supposed to be mysterious, after all — other than that she is “enjoying her role.” Josh Wilhoit is Dwight, “a classic younger sibling to a charismatic older sibling, pushed aside, never the star of the family, who is solid, dependable, less glamorous, but rises to many occasions.”

In the past, audiences have been spoiled by the Playhouse’s compact yet extravagant sets, which are full of minutiae. This time Enright is going for something different. “This is much more modular and pared down,” she says. “Jean has to travel to many different locations, halfway across the world at one point. We’ve tried our best to facilitate easy movement. The audience will enjoy seeing how we go from place to place without losing the flow of the play.”

Ruhl creates fables for our age. She adds unexpected or fantastic elements to her plays — dream logic, philosophy, absurdist humor, leaps of imagination. Putting these in a 21st century context allows her to give old themes new relevance and frequently surprise the audience.

“I can’t compare it to anything we’ve done before,” says Enright. “People will come away very pleased; some people will be scratching their heads asking, ‘What the heck?’ ”

CBT presented Balanchine for its second Big 20 performance

by Nick Smith February 20, 2008

Charleston Ballet Theatre’s marking its 20th anniversary with several blasts from the past, including Rite of Spring and Philip Glass’ Poetry with a Splash of Blood. The mother of all greatest hits was performed last weekend — two previously produced pieces and the S.C. premiere of work by George Balanchine, using no-frills costumes and a stripped down set, priming the focus firmly on the dancing.

What’s so special about Balanchine? He’s regarded as one of the 20th century’s greatest ballet choreographers. Although he died 25 years ago, the George Balanchine Trust is very picky about who performs his works. In this state, CBT is the sole dance company awarded the performance rights and they did justice to his energetic numbers on Feb. 16.

Balanchine’s perfect for ballet lovers with ADD. There’s always something unexpected happening on stage, with multiple dancers forming shapes and patterns that create memorable images and moods. Best of Balanchine had no stories to tell per se, but explored plenty of themes from biggies like love and death to subtler ones such as amity and joie de vivre. The show opened with “Serenade,” utilizing 24 dancers to make swirling frost-blue configurations. Basic movements contrasted with the fluid dancing of the company’s ballet mistress Jessica Roan, but it was Nicole Harden who really stood out with her lively, likeable performance.

There’s an attention to stage presence in all the company’s work. Spontaneity is a hallmark of the theater — the best performers make it seem as if their characters are acting on instinct. Only Roy Men Wei Gan seemed to be anticipating a few of his moves; the rest of the dancers looked elemental, gliding across the stage as if the floor were moving and they were floating above it. Ruth Hutson’s lighting helped build this illusion, bouncing delicate light off the stage to reflect the performers’ feet.

The Tchaikovsky-backed “Serenade” was followed by “Rubies,” with the dancers in sparkling red costumes, their collars like shiny necklances. Set to Igor Stravinski’s Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra, the “Rubies” segment was the wildest of the bunch. Loose moves represented Balanchine at his most playful — Jennifer Balcerzak Muller and Trey Mauldwin cavorted round the stage in a celebration of the limber antics of gangly youth. Gershwin’s music added accessibility to “Who Cares?” featuring Roan and Melody Staples with a more assured appearance from Wei Gan, forming a genial part of the ensemble. It was a treat to see “Who Cares?” again after its S.C. premiere last year, and it was a fitting way to mark CBT’s Big 20. We hope to see more Balanchine from them soon.

Review: Swearing, smoking, and screwing aplenty in The Altruists

by Nick Smith February 19, 2010

Some days doing the right thing just makes things worse, and you know you should have stayed in bed. But even sleeping late can have fatal consequences, as in the case of the tucked-up murder victim in The Altruists.

The main characters in this satirical farce are young protestors who want to get out and demonstrate, make a difference, make themselves heard, and build a better world. But first they have to find their pants. They also have to figure out what the hell they’re supposed to be marching for, who’s been sleeping with whom, and, oh yeah, who soap opera star Sydney has just shot in a fit of pique.

Director Robbie Thomas staged a frothy Frost/Nixon last year at the Footlights, and he adds equal zest to this riotously lewd new Late Night show. He stops Nicky Silver’s story from getting too heavy-handed, ensuring that the playwright’s caricatured protesters are grounded with real world emotions.

Although there are plenty of funny gags, Thomas wisely emphasizes the relationships between the characters. Ronald the social worker (Jesse Budi) is so infatuated with hopped-up prostitute Lance (Nick Smithson) that he’s oblivious to life’s harsh realities — like Lance’s pimp Scar. Ethan (Will Haden) is so infatuated with himself that he’s more interested in getting laid than saving his girlfriend from a murder rap.

The brother-sister bond between Ronald and Sydney (Charley Boyd) is very believable, especially when Sydney puts her hands on her hips and answers back to her sibling. And Cybil (Emily McKay)’s love-hate relationship with her girl fiend Audrey also rings true.

In a typical play, there’s one character whose appearance spices up the show whenever he pops up onstage. Here, there are three. Budi gives his character many amusing and endearing expressions, tics, and vocal variations. Smithson is equably likeable as the pay-me-now rent boy who learns to trust Ronald. Haden captures the essence of the kind of guy who goes through life loving himself more than any woman could, glorying in his role of macho sex god.

In less believable parts, the two actresses maintain the narrative flow despite their lengthy monologues — mostly rants at their significant others or society, men or The Man. Amazingly, Boyd maintains audience sympathy even though her character is a homicidal rich bitch narcissist. As Cybil, McKay is saddled with the least likeable or realistic character. Although she has some memorable lines and moments, she needs to add more variety to her performance to keep it interesting throughout the play. However, the cast as a whole provides fresh evidence that Charleston is turning out intelligent, versatile young actors.

The costumes are black, basic, or non-existent. The altruists wear T-shirts that read “Black Power” or “Fuck Giuliani;” Lance doesn’t wear much at all. The stage is split into three bedroom sets, the center one raised, each reflecting the situations of the characters who inhabit them. (Lance’s eyes match Ronald’s blue wallpaper.) The lighting, designed by Stage Manager Paige Stanley, does not draw undue attention to itself, switching our attention to each scene in quick succession.

It’s no coincidence that the gay bar where Ronald meets Lance is called the Ram Rod. There are no subtle asides here, no obscure witticisms or gentle prods at the proletariat. Silver’s parodies of fly-by-night protesters, closet straights, lipstick liberals, and naïve youths are broad, harsh, and all the funnier for that. There is swearing, smoking, and fucking aplenty, but if you’re not easily offended, this play will make you laugh and make you think about getting all your facts straight before you jump out of bed to take on the world.

The Footlights’ latest follows rebels without a clue

by Nick Smith February 17, 2010

Although The Altruists premiered off-Broadway in 2000, author Nicky Silver’s unpretentious, politically-incorrect tale of well-meaning radicals seems more relevant than ever in this time of tea baggers and powerful pundits.

Ronald, Ethan, and Cybil are three naïve humanitarians who protest something different every day: arms funding, school and welfare cutbacks, drunk driving, and other moral outrages. They aim to help those who struggle to help themselves — but they’re the ones who really need a guiding hand.

When Ronald’s sister Sydney thinks she’s murdered her boyfriend, she turns to the group to protect her. She’s the one cause they don’t want to back, but she’s rich and they realize that her money could help a lot of needy people. So they set up dumb hunk Lance as the fall guy, which would be the smart thing to do if he wasn’t the love of Ronald’s life. Meanwhile the do-gooders are trying to get to a protest, although they can’t remember what it’s for.

“This play is one of funniest things I’ve ever read,” says director Robbie Thomas. “It’s written by a bad-boy playwright who just says things and knocks you down. It’s like an episode of Seinfeld on speed — it never stops.” Thomas also directed Frost/Nixon at the Footlights last year. He says that The Altruists is something “completely different.”

Although the script calls for actors in their late 20s and early 30s, Thomas decided to use a younger cast, which makes sense considering the shallowness of these social crusaders. Going older was “not the vision I wanted to portray,” says Thomas. Instead he chose thesps in their early to mid-20s who are studying at the College of Charleston or have recently graduated. They all know each other, which helps with the on-stage chemistry, and Thomas has worked with most of them before.

“In high school, Charley Boyd was my friend’s annoying little sister,” he says. “She graduated from college last year and she’s become a pretty darn good actor. Her part of Sydney is so wordy — she starts the play off with a five page monologue with nobody else there.”

Jesse Budi plays Ronald the social worker. “Jesse always seems to make choices that I would never think of,” Thomas says. “I honestly don’t know if any actor should make such off-the-wall choices, but they work for him. He’s incredibly funny.”

The cast is rounded out by Will Haden as Ethan, Emily McKay as Cybil, and Nick Smithson as Lance. Concerning Smithson, Thomas says, “He has a great quirky talent.”

Critics have accused The Altruists of being a simplistic string of gags made at the expense of overzealous political agitators, an hour-and-a-half rant against thoughtless campaigners. But Silver acknowledges that his targets are soft, insisting that these dangerous dimwits need to be satirized anyway. The playwright focuses on entertaining his audience rather than preaching an alternative to protesting for its own sake.

The age of the cast emphasizes another theme: the moral malleability of the young, eager to make a difference but not mature enough to consider a point of view that doesn’t appeal to them.

“The main message appears in the last five minutes,” Thomas says. “It’s a really powerful message about hypocrisy, where doing the right thing isn’t always the right thing.”

At its core, the play is about avoiding hypocrisy by making sure you know all the facts before you embark on a crusade. Thomas adds, “It’s about standing up for what’s right but making sure it’s right. I definitely want people to come away with that.”

Review: Tail Wagger Productions make a healthy debut

by Nick Smith February 15, 2010

Health Nuts is a modest but fun slice of original theater. It’s the brainchild of Christine Power and Lindsay Wine, a local mother and daughter team. Over the past few months they’ve been rehearsing and producing their first stage musical, with a dozen actors, a live band, and about 30 people working behind the scenes.

It’s easy to see why the cast and crew got enthusiastic about the project. There are some very witty lines, addictive songs, and memorable characters. Although the production values are humble and the experience level of the talent is uneven, this is still an enjoyable show.

Fortunately, Nuts benefits from the involvement of some gifted individuals. Wine makes a strong impression as Gwen, a lovelorn lady who joins a gym to hang out with three disparate women. There’s JoAnne (played by Power), who has never met her soul mate. Claudia (Kain Cameron) is on husband number five and is more interested in cocktail hour than a workout. And bubbly Bonnie (Leslie Bogstad) is dim as a post but keeps the other girls going with her enthusiasm for all things fit-related.

The foursome are content to exercise in the dilapidated Health Nuts Gym, but a neighboring rival called Workout World threatens to put it out of business. Owner Roland (Will Lindsay) has to let his staff go and hire his cheaper, clumsier nephew Barrett (Brandon Joyner) instead. JoAnne, Claudia, Gwen, and Bonnie try to save the gym from foreclosure, while Roland brings in a new fitness trainer called Ricardo (Brian Bogstad, also directing) to drum up new members.

There’s plenty of scope for humor, with no fitness or diet gag left unexplored. Gwen “can’t wait to start hurting myself on purpose” in the gym. JoAnne’s ass is so big, she needs a larger saddle for her exercise bike. Claudia’s regime consists of pouring herself drinks, and Bonnie has a different kind of cupcake to take her mind off any problem.

The ensemble aren’t afraid to make fun of their own figures — their boobs, their butts, their legs, and their love lives. This seam of self-effacing humor really helps to make the whole play work. It’s also obvious how much fun the leads have with their characters — Leslie Bogstad bounces around the stage in a pink outfit, portraying an effervescent airhead; JoAnne’s two big criteria for a man are that he’s over five feet and under 80. Claudia usually has a cigarette in her hand. Gwen is a grumpy gym-phobe.

The production is elevated by some strong supporting cast members. Brian Bogstad brightens up the show whenever he appears, with more sparkling energy than a sugar-free Red Bull. Local theater mainstay and assistant director Brandon Joyner revels in his role as a nervous, gibbering youth, and Will Lindsay belies his lack of experience by being game for anything as Rolly Poly Roland.

Power seems the least comfortable on stage. She just isn’t as relaxed and believable as Wine, Cameron, or the Bogstads. In the opening number she’s hard to hear and she’s slow to respond to some of her cues. Later she warms up and handles her solos admirably. Doug Callahan’s performance is more exaggerated than anyone else’s, as if he’s in a different, broader comedy.

A moment when one character is left alone with no love in her life could be milked for more emotion. The Hispanic, Chinese, and gay stereotypes are a little too obvious. But Power and Wine have achieved a feat merely by getting this ambitious show running. Its memorable writing and acting, costumes (by Naomi Doddington), and music are added bonuses. Its themes of love and friendship make Health Nuts perfect for the Valentine’s period. As long as audiences don’t expect a Charleston Stage-sized production and make allowances for the less experienced performers, they’ll leave with their tails wagging.

Newcomers Tail Wagger Productions dissect the female gym rat

by Nick Smith February 10, 2010

When we received a cryptic press release about a musical by first-time writers that would be produced by a new, unnamed theater company, we were skeptical.

The PR told us the musical company had been created by a “mom and daughter… taking charge of life and chasing a dream that will ultimately bring prime entertainment, enjoyment, and lots of laughs to people of Charleston.” There was no mention of the show’s venue or any other details. Although this sounded like a lot of noise with no action to back it up, we doggedly followed up the lead and found Tail Wagger Productions.

Chris Power and Lindsay Wine, the brains behind Tail Wagger, are the mother and daughter team who wrote, produced, and starred in the musical. They called it Health Nuts. We weren’t sure what to make of that, but the ladies had our attention. And by the time they’d filled us in on the plot and their goals, the project sounded a lot healthier — and less nutty — than we’d originally feared.

Wine should know how to get people’s attention. She’s the communications specialist for Water Missions International, an organization that brings clean water to countries in need across the globe. While Tail Wagger is not affiliated with Water Missions, she brings the same work ethic, enthusiasm, and strong faith to her new venture that she applies to her doughty day job.

Wine is joined by her mom Chris Power, a local educator who currently works in Hollywood, S.C. Wine and Power are like two peas in a pod. They have the same taste, laugh at the same jokes, and drive the same kind of car. One day when they were getting a pedicure together, they started talking about a musical. This evolved over many meetings, discussions, and glasses of wine into Health Nuts, a comedy set in a gym that’s a hang-out for women of different ages. When the gym faces closure, the women come up with several schemes to keep it open. But the real source of the humor comes from the characters, not the situation.

“Joanne is an older divorcee,” says Wine. “She’s been running the race of the dating scene, but she’s never able to find the right man — there’s always something wrong with him. She’s loosely based on my mom, who plays her.”

Wine also has a part in the show. “Gwen is best described as a Janeane Garofalo type, dark and cynical,” Power says. Joanne and Gwen trade quips with Claudia, who marries for money and has had so many husbands that she doesn’t call them by name any more (she’s currently hitched to a man she refers to as Five). Bonnie doesn’t have any quips; she’s dumb as a brick, confuses her clichés, and has a high time keeping track of all her men. Instead of a little black book she has a “big ass black binder.”

“Some of the characters are based on friends and family and people we’ve known,” says Wine. “We’ve used our relationships and experiences.” In case you haven’t guessed already, the production is geared toward women. “With this show perhaps we’re capturing a niche, focusing on women,” Wine says. “But that’s not necessarily something we’re carrying over to other shows.”

“They’re dealing with issues that are important to women,” says director Michelle Lakey, “not just relationships but being healthy, staying in shape, that kind of thing.”

Lakey was assistant director of the Flowertown Players’ Into the Woods, in which Wine played the baker’s wife. Even though Tail Wagger is an untried company with an untested play, she believes that “they absolutely have a chance of success.” That’s mainly because of Wine’s go-getting attitude. “She’s a marketing genius, passionate about everything she does. She throws everything into it.”

With luck, this exuberance and the stars’ popularity in the local community will pay off when they get on stage. Power and Wine certainly think so; they’re already planning their next production, a family-friendly variety show called Magic Jukebox.

THEATRE ‌ Love and Curses

by Nick Smith January 24, 2007

Romance

Jan. 25-27, 2007

Footlight Players Theatre

20 Queen St., Charleston, SC

www.footlightplayers.net

When the Footlight Players tested a “curtain warmer” comedy on the audience of Arsenic & Old Lace late last year, the response was mixed. Folks expecting a venerable farce also got a new, hip, high-speed quickie called i am drinking the goddamn sun by New York playwright Brian P.J. Cronin; reactions ranged from gentle amusement to total bemusement.

In contrast, there’s no room for reasonable doubt about the intended audience of Romance, the first official entry in the Players’ “Salt & Battery” offshoot series. A late-night performance time, discounted ticket prices, the film farce-style pre-show music, and the choice of writer (David Mamet in ultra-playful form) all cry out for a full house of broad-minded punters. When a show is this funny, the place deserves to be filled to the gills with laughter.

Romance points up the absurdities of the legal system with a series of sharply focused confrontations and character-driven gags. Its doped-up driving force is a judge who’s suffering from hay fever, popping antihistamine tablets like they’re M&Ms. The more he takes, the more he loses track — and control — of proceedings.

It’s never clear whether the judge’s addled state is a good or bad thing for the defendant, a dissembling chiropractor. In fact, the whole trial isn’t all that important. It’s just an excuse for Mamet to place his abrasive characters in a high-pressure situation and set the sparks flying.

In the court of King Mamet, the judge can pass any sentence he fancies, the lawyers present more f-bombs than affidavits, the bailiff calls his own adjournments and confesses to screwing a goose, the Jewish defendant vows to bring peace to the Middle East but is barely aided by his Christian lawyer, and the prosecutor is nagged by his barely dressed boyfriend Bernard, who is nicknamed “Buns.” By the end of Scene Three, the audience will know those buns all too well.

Karl Bunch handles the lead role of the dotty presiding judge well. The actor’s sense of pace and comic timing have been honed over 41 Footlight shows, and he needs them to keep Romance aloft. As the different pills take their effect, he switches from happy, peace-loving evangelism to self-doubting inquisitor in the space of minutes. He’s a joy to watch, with or without his clothes on, although his wife will surely be washing his mouth out with soap after every performance.

In a 2003 stage adaptation of Breaker Morant, Chris Sheets played a kick-ass prosecutor who successfully had half the show’s characters shot, jailed, or thrown out of court. Here he shows a gentler side, playing a slightly more reasonable prosecutor who is the most sincerely romantic guy in the whole play. His boyfriend Bernard may complain that he’s neglected, but the couple share a couple of brief moments of genuine affection. Ryan Rensberry is totally committed to the camp character of Bernard, and Kyle Mims displays all the sense of urgency and impact that was lacking in his direction of last year’s Rebecca. David Barr and Mike Ferrer, fresh from Footlight’s I’m Gonna Kill the President, add memorably knowing touches to their simpler roles as the defendant and a doctor. Bob Sharbaugh also provides some very funny reactions as Jimmy, the soft-spoken bailiff.

Director Don Brandenburg keeps the play moving rapidly, and only one scene — a racist slanging match between the defendant and his attorney — suffers from uninspired blocking. There’s little time for the audience to take a breath and question the lack of narrative or deep character development. Brandenburg recognizes that Mamet is celebrating traditional farce, no frills attached.

At 10 bucks a throw, this show is a bargain for anyone not offended by invective, gay or racist stereotypes, or the notion that “Shakespeare must have been a Jewish fag, because no Christian could write that good.” It’s a bold and effective way to launch “Salt & Battery,” which returns in April with CofC theatre major Michael Smallwood’s Talk.