Post Script

Lorraine Hansberry’s classic A Raisin in the Sun may be the most perfectly titled play in the American canon. Referencing Langston Hughes’s “Harlem,” the poem is a roadmap for the play’s plot, which focuses on the Youngers, a Black family on Chicago’s south side in the 1950s, struggling to get ahead while facing overt, suffocating racism at every turn. We meet them just as each character in the extended family is asking themselves what to do with their “dream deferred” — let it die, let it fester, or simply explode?

American Players Theatre’s extraordinary production of this haunting, heartbreaking play is running in the outdoor Hill Theatre through Oct. 7. Directed with insight and complexity by Tasia A. Jones, she paints every one of the Younger family members as the hero of their own story, each with well-earned contrasting goals, convictions, dreams for the future, and points of pain. Brought to life by a stellar cast composed of both APT regulars and newcomers, the actors embody the push and pull of a real family — including the innate hierarchies, the resentments, the love and tolerance, and the disconnects between generations that are hard, if not impossible, to bridge.

The practical question of the play is, can the Youngers finally move out of their cramped apartment and into a real home? And can they finally make a financial investment that will accumulate value, resulting in wealth they can pass on, instead of simply enriching their landlord?

Pioneering investigative journalist Nellie Bly rose to national fame in the late 1870s when she infiltrated the Women’s Lunatic Asylum on Blackwell Island in New York, and wrote about the horrifying experience in vivid detail. The account of her ordeal was published by Joseph Pulitzer in his newspaper the New York World, and later as a self-contained book — Ten Days in a Mad-House — which is also the title of Music Theatre of Madison’s world premiere production, playing now in the Play Circle Theatre at the Memorial Union.

Bly’s exploits have already inspired dozens of biographies, novels, movies, and at least three other plays and musicals; she has been memorialized in a statue and even a postage stamp. This commission, through MTM’s Wisconsin New Musical Cycle, adds to the titles detailing Bly’s exposé of the deplorable conditions facing women who were separated from society for good reason, or no reason at all, in a squalid asylum.

Broadway loves going back to high school, particularly when they can focus on kids who don’t fit in triumphing over the bullies who make their lives miserable. Whether students are boning up on words for The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, or inventing a fictional friendship in Dear Evan Hansen, or poisoning the meanest girl in school in Heathers, or just trying to take a same sex date to a dance in The Prom, musical writers are spending a lot of time in high school hallways, dissecting the cliques that exude so much power on teens and how the square pegs can ultimately prevail.

Why do we care? Because we’ve all been there. And no matter how well adjusted you might be in adulthood, chances are you have vivid memories of crushing crushes, devastating insecurities, and paralyzing fear of being terrorized by the popular kids – the ones with all the clothes, the confidence, the cool and the clout. And that brings us to Mean Girls, the musical version of Tina Fey’s 2004 movie of the same name, which was based on the book Queen Bees & Wannabes: Helping Your Daughter Survive Cliques, Gossip, Boyfriends & Other Realities of Adolescence.

On opening night of Hamlet at American Players Theatre, there were frequent amused rumbles in the crowd as the audience recognized words and phrases from the play that have become part of our everyday vocabularies.

“What a piece of work is man.”

“Brevity is the soul of wit.”

“Get thee to a nunnery.”

“To the manner born.”“Neither a borrower, nor a lender be.”“Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”“To be or not to be.” (Of course.)

And many more. That’s because Shakespeare’s most popular play is part of the zeitgeist, as it has been for the last four centuries. (And according to several pieces of post-apocalyptic fiction, we can be comforted that the Bard’s greatest hit will survive far into the dystopian future.)

Audience Member: So, should I go see it?

Ghost: Absolutely. Lend thy serious hearing to what I shall unfold.

here is a certain comfort in the fairy tales we tell to children. They have familiar “once upon a time" beginnings and "happily ever after" endings. They have good guys and evil witches, dramatic arcs with great stakes, and instructive morals to guide young people and keep them safe. In most of them, true love triumphs in the end and transgressors get their just deserts.

But there’s little that is comforting about The River Bride, by Marisela Treviño Orta, running through September 30 in the indoor Touchstone Theatre at American Players Theatre. It blends a fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm, Brazilian folklore, and the heightened reality of theater to create a story that is at once traditional and modern, familiar, and startlingly new. The result is fascinating and disconcerting. Thoughtfully directed by Robert Ramirez and performed by a uniformly stellar cast, The River Bride captures the audience from the first moments of the magical, 90-minute drama, then enchants us with gorgeous, poetic language, wishes fulfilled, and the promise of ecstatic, extraordinary love. Then it breaks our hearts.

Before Tarell Alvin McCraney was an Academy Award winner, a MacArthur “Genius” Grant recipient, or Chair of the Yale Playwriting Program, he was a student at The Theatre School at DePaul University. While there, he wrote The Brothers Size, based on a two-line Yoruba poem about a man whose brother is missing, so he builds the tools to find him again. This deceptively simple premise is brought vividly to life in American Players Theatre’s production of the play in the indoor Touchstone space through October 8. Under the passionate direction of APT core company member Gavin Lawrence, the extraordinary cast uses poetry, music, and movement to explore imprisonment, poverty, centuries of conflict and oppression, family relationships, and the lengths to which a sibling will go, to find and protect his brother.

If American Players Theatre’s 2015 production of the Jane Austen classic Pride and Prejudice left you longing for more stories of English moors, society balls, bonnets, and unspoken yearning, or perhaps the recent hit TV series Bridgerton has you in a Regency Era romance frame of mind, good news! APT’s long-awaited Austen offering Sense and Sensibility opened on June 25 and is running Up the Hill through October 9. Adapted by Jessica Swale and directed by Marti Lyons, this classic costume drama leans more heavily on comedy than passion — either freely sensed or sensibly restrained. But there are solid performances throughout, whether the characters lead with their hearts or their heads as they move through the world.

Sense and Sensibility is the story of a widow and her three daughters who have been essentially disinherited after the death of the family patriarch. The Dashwood women must depend on the kindness of distant relatives and the hope of marriage to wealthy husbands in order to survive in early 19th century England. And beyond the financial incentive for wedding, of course, both the eldest daughter — practical, reserved, and proper Elinor (Laura Rook) and the younger, more impetuous Marianne (Samantha Newcomb) — wish to marry for love. But to find suitable suitors they must navigate the mores of fashionable society, avoid being slandered by gossip, and accept that as young women without dowries or the opportunity to earn their own living, their fates rest in the hands of others.

As she did in Pride and Prejudice, Rook easily assumes the role of the reserved, pensive sister who worries about the family’s meager budget, makes the decision to let most of the house staff go, and tries to guide and comfort her younger siblings as they adjust to a much simpler life in a country cottage, without their father. Wrapping her pashmina tightly around her shoulders while looking longingly into the ocean, or wrinkling her brow as she carries on making the best of their new lives, it is easy to see Rook modulating her feelings so they do not overwhelm her manners. Confidante to her younger sister, she is constantly chiding Marianne about her outbursts of emotion, her honest and open hostility to her snide sister-in-law Fanny (a delightfully disapproving Tracy Michelle Arnold), and her reckless pursuit of the charming scoundrel Willoughby (Ty Fanning). For her part, Samantha Newcomb fills Marianne with enthusiasm for dramatic poetry, an intoxication with moving music, and a giddiness for grand romantic gestures. Far from hiding her feelings to be polite, she wears her overflowing heart on her sleeve and her disappointments in storm clouds that settle in sharp looks, clenched fists, and determined strides. Rook and Newcomb are extremely well paired as women on opposite ends of the emotional spectrum.

Underneath the angst about men and money, the Dashwood clan has familial love in spades. Nancy Rodriguez is the calm voice of experience as the matriarch Mrs. Dashwood, providing gentle words of encouragement for all three of her girls, although she is working through her own grief. Even precocious young Margaret (played by the scene-stealing Isabel Bushue) can tell when her much older siblings need a hug, although most of her attention seems to focus on the bugs, fish, and feathers she collects and studies as an aspiring naturalist.

Bushue’s interjections and great comic timing punctuate many of the scenes, along with one-liners and sight gags performed by most of the minor characters. But Sarah Day and Brian Mani outdo them all as the loud country relations with an irrepressible sense of mischief — especially where matchmaking is concerned. Waddling across the stage like a gossip-seeking goose, Day’s Mrs. Jennings isn’t satisfied until she wheedles and pokes and pries the latest romantic intrigues out of her guests. Mani’s Sir John also delights in the good natured ribbing of the younger set between hunting, fishing and games of cards and croquet.

Unfortunately all the gags overwhelm much of what Austen fans treasure about the romance that is fundamental to the book — the almost unbearable tension between would-be lovers who have trouble articulating the depth of their admiration. As a stiff and awkward Edward Ferrars, Jamal James gives Elinor few reasons to remember his visits, let alone pine after him. And instead of the steadfast soldier, biding his time while harboring strong feelings for Marianne, Marcus Truschinski’s Colonel Brandon is positioned as a foolish also-ran, who could never compete with the impulsive and extravagant Willoughby. The eventual matches are meant to come about despite adversity, but the double wedding that finishes the show feels unearned, if not illogical.

The structure and pacing of the play is also problematic in Jessica Swale’s adaptation of the Austen text. Cramming all the characters and conversations from a novel into a script is inadvisable if not impossible, but it feels like Swale tries. As a result, many short scenes are smashed together, some wordless scenes are used as transitions, and any passage of time is repeatedly omitted to keep the play moving. And while these jump cuts are fine in a film, they are jarring to theater audiences. The end result feels both rushed and repetitive. The set, by Yu Shibagaki, is composed of a long, ornate green wall interrupted by a single lavender door. It does little to recall the time period or provide an interesting, malleable background for a dozen distinct settings. The costume design, by Rachel Anne Healy, is similarly disjointed. Color and fabric choices don’t tell a cohesive story and the ball scene, where the most elegant attire should be on display, looked cobbled together.

Strong performances from the leads, as well as those playing minor characters, assure an amusing evening. But Austen fans may want to revisit the story in another medium if they are looking for emotional nuance.

Aaron Posner wants to make you laugh. Directing American Players Theatre’s first play of the season — the 18th century comedy of manners The Rivals — Posner does not want staid, overeducated audiences to smirk with self-satisfaction because they recognize the humor of an arcane play on words. He wants everyone in the packed house up the hill to giggle, to belly laugh, and to lap up the funny in this centuries-old play by presenting it with the unbridled silliness of a pie in the face. Of course the jokes that are baked into the script are still there, but Posner and his extraordinary cast — full of APT core company members and exciting, less familiar faces — pull out all the stops to make a good play into a great time. With whimsical sound effects, plenty of sight gags and physical humor and vaudevillian choral interludes, The Rivals’ cast is winking at the audience and urging us to laugh along from the start.

Ladies and gentlemen, the legendary Motown group the Temptations have just swept into town. Dressed in snazzy matching blazers, performing their signature smooth moves in synch, and harmonizing effortlessly on 30 songs over the course of the 2 ½ hour production, the uber-talented ensemble cast of ain’t too proud: The Life and Times of the Temptations is at Overture Center through June 19th. A jukebox musical based on Otis Williams’ autobiography about founding the supergroup, ain’t too proud is a love letter to Black R&B singers, songwriters, producers, and musicians of the ’60s and ’70s, couched in the rise of the iconic Temptations. Heavy on music and light on introspection, ain’t too proud ticks all the boxes of a singalong history of a hit band. Predictably, as their songs climb the Billboard charts, their egos grow, tempers flare, and their lives behind the scenes become more chaotic. But exceptional performances by the whole cast make the scant story enjoyable – although your enthusiasm for the musical will probably depend on your familiarity with, and affection for, the Temptations’ entire, expansive catalog.