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May 30 - June 29, 2008
Waiting for Godot
Reviewed May 31 by David Siegel

Running Time 2:45 – one intermission
A pungent work for those with a desire for deeper
 thinking about connections
Click here to buy the script

Storyline: Two befuddled characters wait for the arrival of a mysterious person. Their lives don't seem to have much purpose, but they seem to believe that this Mr. Godot will provide answers to what they should be doing and why. In the meantime, they try to find ways to fill their day. The monotony is broken by a chance encounter with a stranger and his servant or slave. When a messenger delivers the word that Mr. Godot won't be coming today, all they have to do is wait for tomorrow.

While born in Ireland, Samuel Beckett (1906-1989) spent much of his adult life in France during and after WW II. His output of plays from the mid-1950s onward is legendary and led to the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1969. His Waiting for Godot is a snapshot of living without certitude and realizing that sharing life with someone is better than facing life alone. Director McNamara does not force a hardened intellectually-cold point of view upon the audience. Rather he lets them soak into the world of Beckett and “waiting.” His production approach allows the simplicity of the non-natural text and the stage direction to take the audience along on this ultimately dark trip. McNamara tips the scales with a touch like drinking a cold young white wine on a beach in the early evening, with the gentle ocean breezes caressing a face burned nicely warm from the sun; rather than a strong bracing shot of Irish whiskey, neat please, served near a fire during a snowy winter night knowing that one must dress for the cold wintry air and a walk home to a cold bed with no one there to share it with or to lessen the frost bite that might be coming.

This Waiting for Godot ensemble is one to appreciate, especially for those who have not seen a good production of this classic and probably over revived work. Dan Brick (Estragon) is all cherubic fully rounded cheeks and earthy responses to the constant predicaments he faces from the moment we view him dealing with too-tight boots. When he smiles, his entire body takes flight into the smile. When Brick voices his sorrows, his pain is such that an audience doesn’t want him to go away and be out of sight, for they can immediately feel a kindred spirit with him. Brick lifts the production. Chris Davenport (Vladimir) is in good form using his well developed comedic skills. With well placed glances, a raised eyebrow or tilt of his shoulders, or even playing with a hat and internally mulling over his words, Davenport provides the necessary energy for Brick to react to. A deep intellect, as some might play the role, is not Davenport’s rendering. Richard Pelzman (Pozzo) is a physical bear-hug of a man, and yet throughout this production he possesses the lightness of a teenage ballet dancer wearing a perfect pair of toe shoes. He could be both pompous in Act I and sympathetic in Act II as he presents two sides of how one’s life can be. These three are often called upon to present a synchronized and syncopated line of body actions that is a delight to behold. At first this reviewer thought it was just dumb luck, but time after time, they hit their marks with ease as a trio of baggy pants kick-dancers. Christopher Mrozowski (Lucky) is a wonder in his pantomime work and his struggles as the roped-to submissive man-servant to Pozzo. This makes his high velocity monologue near the end of Act I all the more an unexpected amusement as he gets the spotlight. Each of the four seems to relish with male glee their falling about; as if they were little boys again without a care.

Marianne Meadows' lighting greets the audience as she has spot lit the single, bare tree with a white shadow Venetian blind affect that casts itself in white light behind the tree on the small set. The costumes are character evocative; Pelzman in Act I is all well dressed with his shoes shined. Brick is a hobo in his disheveled and unkempt clothes and his shabby ill-fitting boots and Davenport a better dressed, though far from well heeled, traveler. Mrozowski, with his tousled long white hair, is a sort of ponyboy with his long lean looks dragging along Pelzman, his owner, either with a long rope or a short rope but always the same - in the lead. The set design is what it is; some rocks, lots of smelly mulch and a small tree at the center of the stage.

Written by Samuel Beckett. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Richard Montgomery (set), Alisa Mandel (costumes), Marianne Meadows (lights), David Crandall (sound), Ian C. Armstrong (photography), Andre Manley (stage manager). Cast: Connor Aikin, Dan Brick, James Chatam, Chris Davenport, Christopher Mrozowski, Richard Pelzman.

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February 25 - March 30, 2008
The Chairs
Reviewed March 1 by David Siegel

Running Time:  90 minutes - no intermission
A daunting production for the cognoscenti
 Click here to buy the script

Storyline: A one act tragic farce concerning two charters, Old Man and Old Woman, arranging chairs for their numerous guests whom have been invited to hear an Orator deliver a special message. As the couple fills the stage with actual chairs for their invisible guests, the pieces of furniture wind up separating the two, leading to a physical gulf between them as they reach out in one last attempt of control of their lives and their own deaths as a couple.

At a time when Europe was still recovering from the horrors of death and almost complete destruction of World War II, straight-up, realistic drama about how fragile human life was must have seemed rather uninviting to the creative arts. With the likes of Eugene Ionesco (1909-1994), the apparent meaninglessness of life and the irrationality of those days had farce and joke superimposed, bringing the world "the theater of the absurd." Inonesco delivered his messages in little bits and pieces in projects such as the one-act The Chairs and others such as The Bald Soprano (1950) and Rhinoceros (1959). Time has not been kind to Ionesco as he is rarely produced now. It is good that Director McNamara clearly has such a soft spot for Ionesco and is paying due homage to him. McNamara has deft technical touches from his casting to the handsome set and technical work at the Warehouse Theatre space. But, the script is the script.

Delany is an eye-opener and a hoot. She moves about the stage with puppet-like pacing with the strings unseen. Her delivery as she berates her husband is one to smirk over for anyone in a committed relationship in real life. Delany often physically curls around her husband with her full body and speaks in a tender girlish voice ... a voice that knows how to get her own way. Within her heavy white-based thick makeup and her stilted movements, she presents herself as one who had many years of living with Jackson and knows all the right buttons to push to get a reaction. She does not have to yell to make her point or generally get her way. Delany is the physically more imposing one of the couple. With a slight lift on her legs she stands well over him and he becomes a little boy with a slouch and a stammer. Jackson counters Delany with defensive lines about trying to “be happy with what little we have.”  As the public intellect of the couple, Jackson works up steam over the course of The Chairs as he tries to sum up his meager life in some beau geste. He makes lifting a chair such a heavy burden that one wants to rush on to the stage and help him. But, Jackson is able to present a view of how to take control of the couple’s lives in a forceful and convincing manner. Together the comic timing of Jackson and Delany is nearly flawless. There in only one other actor visible; the Orator (Ian Blackwell Rogers). His entry is a grand one with much dramatic flourish. His dark handsome looks are easy to gaze at. As the lights fade he scribbles the message on a chalk board that God is no longer present in the world.

The Warehouse Theatre space is transformed by the Scena technical artisans. Hannah J. Corwell’s set design is a single open room with nine doors and several second story windows reached by ladders. Over time the set is finally filled with about 35 different wooden chairs, all painted the same French blue … but all empty. The sound work by David Crandall and the lighting by Marianne Meadows are first rate. As the production moves along and picks up speed the lighting and sound begin to pulsate faster and faster and push the audience forward as echoes of the script’s trajectory. Doors open on their own, door bells ring with different ringtones, all while planes fly over head and the ocean laps under all the other sounds.

Written by Eugene Ionesco. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Hannah J. Corwell (set) Stephanie Petago (costumes) Marianne Meadows (lights) David Crandall (sound) Andre Manley (stage manager). Cast: David Bryan Jackson, Colleen Delany and Ian Blackwell Rogers.

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November 9 - December 16, 2007
The Maids
Reviewed by David Siegel

Running Time 1:30 - no intermission
A production to be seen and experienced
Click here to buy the script

Storyline:  Two maids, who are also sisters, attempt to cope with the arrogance and power of their employer, the self-important Madame, by acting out their fantasies when Madame is away. When their attempt to gain power through fantasy role-playing fails them, and their attempt at real-life control goes awry, they take control of their lives through the only means left available to them.

Jean Genet (1910-1986) was a controversial French writer and political activist. As a young man he was a petty criminal, but prison led to writings that chronicled the lives of the dispossessed and the rarely noticed. His fiction and dramas were a challenge to the powerful and an attempt to provoke the powerless to take action. Director Jakobi has created both wonderful illusion and grim prison-like reality in the small Warehouse Theatre space. She uses the text of the play to its full advantage and seems to believe that The Maids makes a more long-lasting impact when not presented with bombast or superficial flash. To this end, Jakobi casts as the maids two actresses who are able to effortlessly transform themselves without camp extremes over the course of the evening as ritual dominance and submission roles shift between the sisters and between Madame and them.

Deal and Ingvarrson are able to project both the visible despair of submission and the arrogance of dominance. In their fantasy role-playing game they work with heads bowed and tiny curtsies to show respect. When Madame is present they even make themselves seem physically smaller than she even though they are not. Deal, with her tall, striking features, moves effortlessly between the male and the female aspects of her role. As the show progresses, she transforms from a flamboyant diva applying make-up to a maid wearing drab grey underwear and shapeless outfits. By her grand exit, she is all natural woman with a long, freshly washed and brushed mane of lush hair and the unhidden sight of a abundant cleavage to quietly project her humanity and her womanhood. Ingavarsson, shorter than Deal, uses her voice, facial expressions and especially her body movements to project her powerlessness. But, with the superior intellect and quicker wit that the text of the play provides, she projects power through a calm bitchiness of comments to her sister and non-comments to her owner. In a key late scene, she has the stage to herself. Lit as a messenger angel she delivers a defining monologue flawlessly. It is this monologue that sets in motion the final sequences of events as Deal stands towering silently behind her. Davy’s role is the energy source of the play, even though she is visually absent for most of the play. When she finally appears, she is all lissomness of body and imperviousness to the maids who are merely objects to be toyed with. Davy exudes breeding and acts upon the whim of the moment without a care for others.

The technical work for the production is a thing of beauty in this dark world. Given the small operating budget that Scena must have, the set is splendid. The restricted interior world of the maids is depicted as one contained room. When the audience first enters, the space is rich with beautiful touches of gorgeously lit flowers everywhere and the speckled light of tree silhouettes on the furniture and the floor, with a bathtub strewn with flowers and a bed with a satin cover. But, when the action begins, the lighting changes and the same room becomes a self contained prison with beautiful dresses hung on steel mesh for all to see. Edith Piaf records are playing as the pre-show music and as the lead-in to the opening scene with almost unobtrusive musical tracks used throughout the production as background melancholy.

Written by Jean Genet. Directed by Gabriele Jakobi. Design: Richard Montgomery (set) Alisa Mandel (costumes) Marianne Meadows (lights) Chris Pifer (sound) Ian C. Armstrong (photography). Cast: Danielle Davy, Jenifer Deal and Nanna Ingvarsson.

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Running time 2:35 - one intermission
A political protest play from the 1930s
Performances at the Warehouse Theater
Click here to buy the script

Storyline: In a famous brothel in a city in revolt, the clients act out their fantasies between bursts of gunfire from outside. When the revolution gets the upper hand and the queen is executed, the clients are drafted to fill their fantasy roles in the real world and the brothel's madam is made queen.

McNamara has assembled a very large cast (fifteen) for the relatively small space of the Warehouse's main hall. The role that provides the connection between the scenes in this episodic play is that of the brothel's madam who oversees the excesses, protects her "girls" and keeps the customers in line. Rena Cherry Brown is very good in the role, adopting a stern demeanor one moment, a caring one the next, and allowing the periodic interruptions of gunfire from outside to progressively unnerve her. When she is finally elevated to the status of queen, she gives a hint of madness that can be interpreted as a reflection of the madam's unhinging, or as a display of royalty's removal from reality - take your pick.

The parade of prostitutes includes Elizabeth Jernigan who is notable as the Thief in Buck O'Leary's pretend court, Samantha Merrick who prances as the Horse in Terence Heffernan's General's military fantasy, and especially Danielle Davy and Micha Kemp as the brothel's principal attractions. From the outside world, Frank Britton's formality bridges the gap between the reality of the revolution as it closes in on the revelers and their increasingly desperate fears.

The production is notable for its attention to design. The stage is a large black surface with a bright red runway leading back to the off kilter door in the central structure. Painted panels that are the work of set designer Misha Kachman and Luciana Esteconi are rolled into place to illustrate some of the fantasies the clients bring to the establishment. A red banner is draped from the side of the stage to the balcony of the old warehouse space which is put to brief use. The costumes of the play-acting clients are as exaggerated as their performances with six inch platform boots, wide shoulder pads and elaborate wigs and hats. Aaron Forbes contributes a score ranging from baroque chamber music of a classic bordello to the jazz of Genet's coffee house generation, while David Crandall's gunshot sounds break the spell at just the right times.

Written by Jean Genet. Translation by Bernard Frechtman, Ellen Boggs and Otho Eskin. Directed by Robert McNamara. Original incidental music composed by Aaron Forbes. Design: Misha Kachman (set) Alisa Mandel (costumes) Marianne Meadows (lights) Andre Manley (stage manager). Cast: Frank Britton, Rena Cherry Brown, Kim Curtis, Danielle Davy, Rashard Harrison, Terence Heffernan, Elizabeth Jernigan, Christopher Keener, Micha Kemp, Samantha Merrick, Elena Mrozowski, Carolyn Myers, Buck O'Leary, Alex Tanouye, Stas Wronka.

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March 3 - April 8, 2007
Writer's Cramp
Reviewed by Brad Hathaway

Running time 1:55 - one intermission
Scena's liveliest offering in memory
 

Storyline: The fictitious bio-play chronicles the brief but forgettable career of a minor Scottish poet/artist and the "episodes" that supposedly influenced his most "important" works.

Scot John Byrne, not to be confused with the English-born American illustrator of comic books who really is the more famous of the bearers of that honorable name, created this parody of celebrity worship. It debuted at the famous Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 1977 at a time when there weren't fringe festivals all around the world putting up lightly constructed send ups of every pretentious target you can think of. Today, it hardly seems either revolutionary or particularly inventive, but it is well constructed and, when well presented, can be a great deal of fun. Here it is well presented indeed, and therefore, just as fun as it can be.

Begin with the unctuous proto-typical master of ceremonies in his cardigan sweater that is somewhere between an ill-fitting Mr. Rodgers Neighborhood costume and a literary club discussion leader's comfortable informality that Jim Jorgensen wears as he welcomes us to an evening of "striking tableau vivants" exploring the career of the the poet Frank McDade. Jorgensen appears as well as the important women in the subject's life because, as it says in the program, our master of ceremonies is also a "noted female impersonator." Then there's Jay Hardee, a master at finding body postures that reveal character, playing a host of characters who need revealing. At the center of it all is Jason Stiles as the supposed poet himself with touches of self-doubt that is supposed to underlie poetic genius. 

Potomac Region theatergoers have had many challenges recently adjusting their ears to thick Irish brogue, so it is almost refreshing to switch to a thick Scottish brogue. All three actors do the Scottish thing with alacrity, none quite so well as Jorgensen. Hardee even seems to slip a bit into a more Connecticut twang - perhaps a touch of Kate Hepburn. Oh, but their scampering about on Richard Montgomery's broad, multi-location set make this light and lively romp a fun evening.

Written by John Byrne. Directed by Kathleen Akerley. Design: Richard Montgomery (set) Gail Stewart Beach (costumes) Marianne Meadows (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ian C. Armstrong (photography) Elizabeth Welke (stage manager). Cast: Jay Hardee, Jim Jorgensen, Jason Stiles.

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December 2, 2006 - January 14, 2007
The War of the Worlds
Reviewed by Brad Hathaway

Running time 1:00 - no intermission
A spirited recreation of the scene in the studio one fateful night in 1938
Performances at the DC Arts Center
Click here to buy the novel

Storyline: Hewing close to the script of the one hour Mercury Theater of the Air broadcast that panicked the east coast at Halloween in 1938, the cast recreates the atmosphere inside the studio during the broadcast, but a hint of the impact on the listening audience is added as "listeners" in the theater audience respond to the dramatization of disaster as many in the radio audience did.

There is a touch of self righteousness in the entire proceeding, so it probably isn't a good thing to look at this as a history project. From our viewpoint of nearly seventy years remove, it is easy to feel that we're smarter than the unsophisticated early radio audience. Surely we couldn't be panicked into highway-clogging evacuation attempts by a mere radio program. But what about new technologies? Surely, all those spammers who send out millions of emails in the hope of duping a gullible few are putting their faith in our acceptance of information received through a new technology.

Mr. McNamara selected skilled performers to work as panicking audience members and watching them react is half the fun. One, Joe Baker, positively cowers in his seat during the suspenseful segment of the radio broadcast portraying the emergence of Martian machines of destruction from the impact crater of their arrival in Van Ness Park, New Jersey. Others put down their knitting or even attempt to clamber over seatbacks to try to escape. The fact that they are sitting in the audience with the rest of us makes them seem more real and more human.

The denizens of the radio studio are silently directed by Dan Brick who gives a great impression of the unctuous Orson Welles. With a smooth voice and comfortable posture before the microphones, John Tweel is the lead announcer. He's backed by a number of actors contributing multiple voices to the radioplay. Alex Zavistovich switches easily between different personas before the microphones. David Crandall, who has designed sound for many Scena productions, has created sound effects that the radio program's sound man, played by Kim Curtis, seems to be creating for the radio audience. He's fun to watch as the frenzy in the studio begins to mount with more than one performer trying to cue him at different times to moderate the panic they are sowing among their radio audience. All the while, we, the modern theater audience, enjoy our own detachment. We certainly wouldn't be fooled - would we?

Written by Howard Koch, based on the novel by H.G. Wells. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: A. J. Guban (set) Zoe Cowan (costumes) Melissa Novarez (properties) Marianne Meadows (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ian C. Armstrong (photography) Allison Curtis (stage manager). Cast: Joe Baker, Dan Brick, Kathryn Cocroft, Kim Curtis, John Geoffrion, Elizabeth Jernigan, Michael McDonnell, Ellie Nicoll, Karen Novack, Sasha Olinick, Lee Ordeman, John Tweel, Alex Zavistovich.

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Reviewed May 7
Running time 2:20 - one intermission
A Bio-Play about Bertolt Brecht

Storyline: German playwright Bertolt Brecht fled Germany when the Nazis came to power, eventually settling in America, at least until the development of the post war anti-communism movement. Summoned before the House Committee on Un-American Activities, Brecht offers intentionally confusing testimony and flees the United States, establishing a new theater in East Germany. His life is viewed through the eyes of the man who translated much of his work into English and facilitated most of his career opportunities in the United States,  Eric Bentley.

As is often the case when a playwright directs the first outing of his own work, the play seems to meander, switching from one style to another and concentrating on first one aspect of the story and then another. Each of these disparate elements have strengths of their own but they never seem to come together into a single play. The project would have benefited from a director who could help the author hone the play to a finer point. The early scenes establish a fairly traditional approach to a biographical play. Then it flirts a while with symbolic impressionism. There's even a time when, set to Wagnerian thunder and under harsh red lighting, Brecht becomes Mephistopheles and Bentley Faust. It then turns to a bio-play's traditional final problem: how to tie up all the loose ends of a life that continues beyond the climax of the story.

Dennen, whose career has included originating the role of Pontius Pilate in Jesus Christ Superstar, gives a fascinating performance as Brecht from beginning to end -- with a brief laps for the Mephistopheles/Faust scene. He shuffles around the stage, puffing on a big cigar (the smoke averse should beware) and commanding scene after scene. His Brecht wins most of the arguments not only by force of the language that Morowitz gives his hero, but by the force of Dennen's own presence. He creates a Brecht who is a highly intelligent man unafraid to use or hide his intelligence, depending on what the moment demands. His interview with Bentley is a delight and his stumbling, rambling testimony before the Congressional committee reveals as much to the audience in the theater about his intentions and strategy as the testimony obscures for the committee.

Ian Armstrong has had a string of strong performances in the Region recently, most notably his British District Officer in Death and the King's Horseman and the title role in Titus Andronicus at the Washington Shakespeare Company. As Bently, he's a fine foil for Dennen and handles the function of a narrator, guiding the audience through this portion of the story of Brecht's life without seeming to be lecturing. Marowitz' script gives him enough meat to make the character interesting in its own right and he makes the most of the opportunities. Not so, the character played by Tolaydo, although the actor does a smooth job with what he's given. Akin, as Brecht's wife, appears wordlessly in many of her early scenes, but when she gets a chance to speak, she shakes things up nicely.

Written and directed by Charles Marowitz. Freely adapted from The Brecht Memoir by Eric Bentley. Design: Richard Montgomery (set) Alisa Mandel (costumes) Marianne Meadows (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ray Gniewek (photography) Kate Kilbane (stage manager). Cast: Charlotte Akin, Ian Armstrong, Barry Dennen, Michael Miyazaki, James R. Raby, Caroline Strong, Michael Tolaydo, John Tweel.

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Reviewed February 26
Running time 1:40 - no intermission
Irish storytelling blended in a trio of fine performances
Click here to buy the script

Storyline: Two brothers in a small sea-side village near Dublin and the boyfriend of their sister tell about the interrelated events of one weekend when their lives intersected. The younger brother's sexual awakening, the older bother's scam, the friend's unexpected involvement, all combine to create a portrait of a view of life that seems somehow uniquely Irish.

You don't really know where these three have gathered to tell their stories. It could be a pub. It could be a police station. It doesn't matter, however, because the important thing is the story telling. Author Conor McPhearson is principally a story teller. Many of his works have been monologues and even his The Weir, with its cast of five, is essentially a gathering of storytellers. His work is filled with little touches that illuminate the world of the play without seeming to be the trick of a writer. When the younger brother says that it is strange that people never come to a beach town when its raining, but that is when he likes it the best, the image of a deserted small village on the coast of Ireland hovers in the air without more needing to be said.

Each of the three are distinct characters with unique traits. Lucas' character is smooth and comfortable as he talks because, as a college professor, he has spent many hours addressing others. Brick's older brother, on the other hand, is reticent and reserved at first but builds a sense of pride and even wonder at the events of the weekend. Baker's younger brother begins the evening with a halting nervousness as he plays with the ends of his sweater with the awkwardness of youth (although the pulled out shirt tail is a bit too obvious).

Listening. That is the key to the spell this ensemble performance casts. As each actor speaks, the others react with subtlety and restraint - but react they do. Mostly, they look off into space, rarely making eye contact with either the speaker or with each other. Then there are moments when a jolt of reaction travels through the listeners that makes this more than three interesting monologues. When Lucas reveals for the first time the amount of money in the scam, Brick gives the audience a silent grin. When Baker confesses a sexual act, Lucas and Brick exchange a quick glance. These touches build as the evening progresses to fill the small (40 seat) black box with a satisfying feel of a story well told.

Written by Conor McPhearson. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Daniel Schrader (set) Chris Pifer (graphics) Kate Turner-Walker (costumes) Marianne Meadows (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ian C. Armstrong (photography) Elizabeth Welke (stage manager). Cast: Joe Baker, Dan Brick, Eric Lucas.

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Reviewed September 12
Running time 2:15 - one intermission
An interesting but fairly heavy adaptation of an absurdist classic
Click here to buy the book
Click here to buy the script

Storyline: A man is arrested without being informed of the charges against him, and finds himself caught up in a mindless world of bureaucratic idiocy that finally destroys him.

Few topics could be as timely as the fate of someone caught up in a judicial system without the rights we normally take for granted. Kafka wasn't concerned over what guilt or even innocence the arrested individual might have. It is the absence of rationality and the overwhelming power of a system that grinds on with no consideration of consequence that horrified him. McNamara gets the sense of mindlessness of the system righ, and, in that, presents some compelling moments. Still, because he starts out at a frenetic pace, there's little sense of building momentum.

Christopher Henley works again with SCENA with some of the intensity he showed in The Fever but without the creepiness he brought to this adapter's version of Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher or much of the over-emoting that McNamara drew from him in Ivona, Princess of Burgundy. Here he gives a nicely paced performance as the hapless victim of a system run amok. His slow loss of innocence is quite convincing. Early in the evening his character earnestly believes that logic and facts will bring his nightmare to a quick end, but as the evening progresses, Henley takes his "Joseph K." (he's not even given the dignity of a full name) through stages of incredulity, denial, rage and frustration but never resignation.

Jim Zidar is the most impressive and best utilized member of the supporting ensemble, acting as Henley's lawyer, who neither expects results nor really believes he should be expected to produce any. Zidar always has a strong stage presence and it works very much to his advantage as the dominating attorney. Svetlana Tikhonov, Michael Miyazaki and particularly John Tweel also have moments in which they emerge from the ensemble to good effect. That ensemble itself, however, is used as a nearly feverish backdrop to the action which is too often a distraction, not an enhancement.

Adapted by Steven Berkoff from the novel by Franz Kafka. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Kimberley E. Cruce (set) Alisa Mandel (costumes) Jessica Wade (masks) Marianne Meadows (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ian C. Armstrong (photography) Chris Pifer (stage manager). Cast: Kim Curtis, Danielle Davy, Terrence Heffernan, Christopher Henley, Jai Khalsa, Robert McNamara, Michael Miyazaki, Christopher Moss, Maura Stadem, Svetlana Tikhonov, John Tweel, Jim Zidar.

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Reviewed June 27
Running time 1:00 - no intermission
A monologue delivered by a Gladiator about to return to the arena

Storyline: Weary of the task, but determined to pump himself up again in the interest of survival, a gladiator prepares for another bout in the games at the Coliseum in Rome. It is a monologue intended as much to convince himself that he can do again what he has successfully done before as it is to communicate to his listeners.

McNamara envisions his gladiator as the ancient equivalent of a modern rock star, which gives him room to comment on many aspects of society without worrying too much about whether it is ancient of modern society. Indeed, he's making the point that it doesn't make much difference. This gladiator has gone into the arena many times and lived to tell about it, and tell he does, in language frequently colorful, emotional, flippant ("Once, twice, thrice, quatrice ... is that a word?") often spanning the millennia ("I was born into a nice upwardly mobile Croatian family") and cultures - he makes multiple references to m 'n m, or is that Em-N-Em?

As delivered by Eric Lucas, the monologue makes you understand how a gladiator could be simultaneously revolted by what he has done to survive and proud of his accomplishments. He's well past his prime and he knows it - or, more precisely, he suspects it and is trying to avoid thinking about its implications. He's about to go out and do battle. This is no time to start concentrating on his weaknesses. Instead, he's touting his strengths, bellowing into the rather anachronistic microphone that Michael Stepowany has included in his spare but hardly ancient set design.

Alisa Mandel's strangely plastic looking costume of black and silver straps, rings, studs, and spandex briefs covered by a studded cup is an s&m riff on the image of a Roman gladiator which is carried over into a makeup treatment somewhere between a rodeo clown and KISS' Ace. Marianne Meadows provides an alternating lighting design which provides some visual variety punctuated by David Crandall's echoed amplification for the microphone into which the gladiator/rock-star bellows.

Written and directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Michael C. Stepowany (set) Alisa Mandel (costume) Marianne Meadows (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ian Armstrong (photography) Sydney Gallas (stage manager). Cast: Eric Lucas.

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Reviewed March 11
Running time: 2:00 - one intermission
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Storyline: Brothers Coleman and Valene indulge in a release of tension following the burial of their father. In the post-funeral urge to clear up loose ends, they dredge up every wrong they did to each other in a contest of escalating apologies with each boasting of ever greater wrongs which trigger ever greater reactions. The family priest tries just a bit to bring them to their senses. However, he too is overwhelmed by the combination of ill-will and whiskey.

Lucas and Rhea have been working together, mostly at the Keegan Theatre they helped found a decade ago, as actors, directors, and in the case of Lucas, writer. The sense that each knows precisely what the other will do at each moment makes their performance something of a unit, not really two separate performances at all. This makes their portrayal of these two brothers particularly satisfying, for these brothers, more than most, seem to have bonded completely but not comfortably in a world that offers each few opportunities for relationships beyond family and small community. Sibling rivalry was never quite so clear, so strong and so violently funny. They are grown ups only chronologically, and, perhaps, in their relationships outside the home. Inside, they are seven year-olds without parental supervision with what few inhibitions they have are further weakened by adult beverage. 

If this were just a brotherly slugfest for Lucas and Rhea it might be a fun evening, but it would be missing the depth that playwright McDonagh brings to his Leenane Trilogy (The Beauty Queen of Leenane and A Skull in Connemara plus this play). McDonagh creates very human characters and gives them an earthy eloquence that is uniquely Irish. It is his love of language and his love of Irishness that shines through. That language, however, is sometimes difficult to catch with an American ear. The cast here delivers it with full attention to its richness bordering on thickness. It is a good thing that you don't really need to catch every word to piece together the gist of each event.

Dan Brick inhabits his role of ineffectual, self-doubting alcoholic priest with an air of resigned desperation that changes the evening from mere sibling rivalry comedy to something richer and deeper. With the addition of his presence, comedy turns to tragedy; the rivalries become representative of the futility and fatalism to be found in McDonagh's view of the Irish psyche.

Written by Martin McDonagh. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: David C. Ghatan (set) Melanie Clark (costumes) Marianne Meadows (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ian C. Armstrong (photography) Chris Pifer (stage manager). Cast: Dan Brick, Eric Lucas, Linda Murray, Mark A. Rhea.

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Reviewed November 29
Running time 1:50 - no intermission
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Storyline: The lone character awakens in a hotel room in a poor country where his language isn't spoken. "I've been a student of my feelings" he tells the audience, describing his feelings as he becomes aware of the grinding poverty of this country, the brutality of its political repression and the prevalence of torture. The intellectual inconsistency of all the justifications he can devise to explain why he should have a larger share of anything - food, wealth, time, health, freedom, knowledge - than any other person finally forces him to conclude that "the life I lead is inexpressibly corrupt."

Wallace Shawn may be most recognizable as an actor, having appeared in a number of Woody Allen movies, and Rob Reiner's "The Princess Bride" but he has solid credentials as a playwright. This piece is more a diatribe than a play, however, with very little plot and not too many ideas, but a lot of words. The words circle around a central concept of a theory of justice, stating the concept again and again as first one then another alternative view occurs to the speaker only to be rejected as absurd on its face. The character is left with no escape from angst, guilt and self-doubt.

Henley gives a highly energetic, even draining performance as the torrent of words seems to wrack his frail body, causing him to dive for the toilet time and time again. He is a superb enunciator, delivering practically ever single word in crystal clear delivery that communicates its meaning unambiguously. You never feel like you missed a single syllable even though the delivery is emotionally charged.

No designer is credited for the set which consists of a chair, a table with a bowl, two speaker stands, a stained toilet and a single hanging light bulb. Marianne Meadows gives the production some texture with changes in the lights but those changes aren't always clearly motivated by the text.

Written by Wallace Shawn. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Alisa Mandel (costume)  Marianne Meadows (lights) Robert McNamara (sound) David Crandall (sound consultant) Ian C. Armstrong (photography) Chris Pifer (stage manager). Cast: Christopher Henley.

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Reviewed September 23
Running time 2:30 - one intermission

Storyline: A European court is disturbed by the arrival in their midst of a woman "of sluggish blood" who, while she can and does talk on rare occasion, has so little to say that she is all but silent and rarely displays any energy at all. Her silence and lack of interest is a void into which everyone in the court - King, Queen, Prince, Chamberlain, to Ladies in Waiting, and even beggars and servants - projects their own interests, hopes and fears. The Prince claims her for his bride but soon tires of her silence and decides to marry a talkative woman instead, while the King and Queen obsess over the silent woman's behavior and their own role in court.

The script requires a large cast (fourteen named characters plus ladies and gentlemen of the court) and at least half a dozen must be able to carry scenes on their own. Here is where McNamara's approach seems to lack control, for each of these major roles is played as if in a different type of production with no sense of the cast working together in an ensemble. Svetlana Tikhonov treats the nearly silent title character as a dancing role approaching mime, while Christopher Henley plays the prince with an over-emoting style reminiscent of a silent movie actor trying to register every thought through his eyes. Christine Herzog as the Queen seems to be playing a non-singing part in a broad musical comedy (Once Upon a Mattress, perhaps?) and Allan Jirikowic's bombastic approach to the King reminds one of the comic heavy in a children's production of Alice in Wonderland. Any of these approaches might work. All approaches can't.

The lack of a uniform view for the piece is multiplied by the visual impact of costumes that go from baseball caps stuffed with tulle to bermuda shorts under sweeping capes, but which seem to switch styles in mid-body. The diaphanous white costume for Tikhonov emphasizes the actress' statuesque attractiveness, which negates all the dialogue about her unattractiveness (the King repeatedly refers to her as a "grumpy dumpy.")

Nice work is turned in by sound designer David Crandall whose musical snippets establish a fairy tale court ambiance quite brightly. But set designer Konstantin Tikhonov's solution to the challenge of the minimal resources of the Warehouse stage is to hang six framing drapes decorated with wisps of tulle and a central bench with a squirting fountain. The result is neither a sumptuous court nor a parody of one.

Written by Witold Gombrowicz. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Konstantin Tikhonov (set) Alisa Mandel (costumes) Lyn Joslin (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ian C. Armstrong (photography) Chris Pifer and Andre Manley (stage managers). Cast: Jamie Boileau, Kim Curtis, Jay Hardee, Christopher Henley, Christine Rebecca Herzog, Allan Jirikowic, Irina Koval, Ryan McGrath, Tel Monks, Christopher Moss, Ellie Nicoll, Lilia Slavova, Svetlana Tikhonov.

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Reviewed March 15
Running time 55 minutes
Performed at The Warehouse
 Theatre on 7th Street NW
Mature audiences - nudity

Storyline: Samuel Beckett's novella attempted to analyze human nature by imagining what people would do in a tightly controlled, highly constrained environment. In the stage adaptation, a narrator not only describes Beckett's vision of a world contained within a cylinder fifty meters round and sixteen meters high (that's 164 feet by 52 feet), he begins to identify with the occupants of that world. He creates a scale model using chalk lines, a wooden box and tiny tin figures to illustrate the behavior of the 200 people in the hypothetical space. His identification with the hypothetical population completely overtakes him as he strips naked and lies down among them.

The space in which this production plays is reached by walking through the mainstage of the Warehouse to an area behind the space currently hosting the Actors' Theatre of Washington/Washington Shakespeare Company joint production of Deathwatch. As a result, the performance times have to be set at strange hours to avoid conflicting with the shows in the other spaces. This production is playing at 7 pm on Thursday - Saturday with a 5 pm matinee on Sunday.

Jahncke establishes a heavy sense of profundity even before the lights dim to signal the start of the show. He is seated in apparent meditation against one wall as the audience is led into the space. When the lights dim and come back up, he begins to speak but doesn't seem to wake from his reverie until well into the narrative. His intensity remains high throughout the performance.

McNamara is credited with set design although the set really is a wooden box about a foot high, a half dozen model ladders, a few dozen figures and three piles of sand. The figures are the creation of Richard Montgomery. Minimalism is taken to extremes. The effect, though, is highly theatrical and the production has the virtue of lasting no longer than its fascination can support.

Adapted by Carter Jahncke from the novella by Samuel Beckett. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Robert McNamara (set, music) Richard Montgomery (sculpture)  Michael Stepowany and Robert McNamara (lights) Ian C. Armstrong (photography) Chris Pifer (stage manager). Cast: Carter Jahncke.

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Reviewed December 19
Running time 1 hour 15 minutes

Storyline: An Irish youngster, too immature to be called a young man, but too encumbered with responsibilities to a wife and their daughter to be called a boy, is cracking under the strain of meeting the responsibilities he feels deeply in the face of a world that requires skills and maturity well beyond him. As failure piles on top of failure, he sees fewer and fewer avenues of escape.

Brick carries the weight of his character’s dreams and fears on his shoulders and they seem to be crushing him. Through enough of a brogue to make the fact that he’s talking about events in Dublin seem natural, Brick creates a painful portrait of a life at the moment hope for success is finally extinguished.

If it doesn’t pierce the heart the way some other monologue portraits of young lives at the failure point, it is because playwright Conor McPherson doesn’t give his central character much potential. As a result, his failure to fulfill his potential is somewhat more difficult to appreciate for the tragedy it is. The youngster is bright enough but he doesn’t share with the audience much sense of the hopes and dreams that might have motivated him sufficiently to avoid the collapse that faces him now.

Monologue plays always hold the threat of being overdone with over-acting and over- production. The physical limitations of the space precluded the over-production problem and the design team avoided over-compensating for the austerity. Brick, under the direction of SCENA’s Robert McNamara, skirts the dangerous line of overdoing the acting.  Be aware that the space is tight and the exhalations of the chain smoking actor fill the room with a pungent smell that is excluded from most public spaces under modern second-hand smoke restrictions.

Written by Conor McPherson. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Michael C. Stepowany (set) Lynn Joslin (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ian C. Armstrong (photography) Chris Pifer (stage manager). Cast: Dan Brick.

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Reviewed November 3
Running time 1 hour

Storyline: The last two of the Usher family are siblings Roderick and twin sister Madeline, both suffering from strange conditions which may well be the result of the tradition of intermarriage in the family. They are visited by an outsider through whose mind’s eye the extent of decay of the family becomes clear. The mansion of the Usher family is crumbling right along with the dynasty.

Poe’s short story (about 13 pages) is short on story - after all, the father of the concept of “unity of effect” was much more interested in casting a spell and creating a mood than he was in spinning a tale. Events are there in the narrative but they are as often as not excuses for descriptions of the character’s thoughts and fears (never their hopes.) Berkoff’s adaptation tries to use the character of the visitor to center the piece but, whether it is the overly lurid performance of Carter Jahnkce in the role or simply the fact that Poe consciously avoided having a center for the story, the effort doesn’t seem to work.

Among the tools at McNamara’s command are Chris Henley’s marvelous ability to be creepy and Linda Murray’s equally marvelous ability to release a scream without so much as an inhalation of warning. Henley’s seemingly endless supply of mannerisms, postures and expressions is exhaustively utilized in this short, one hour show and Murray puts her training as a dancer to good use as she alternates between trances and spasms.

Sound designer David Crandall captures the sonics of decay magnificently. From the sound of crumbling plaster to the pouring of a potion, the show is a treat for the ear while Lynn Joslin’s lights on Michael C. Stepowany’s simple but eloquent set of a grand floor and drooping drapes completes the effect.

Written by Steven Berkoff based on the short story by Edgar Allan Poe. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Michael C. Stepowany (set) Lynn Joslin (lights) Alisa Mandel (costumes) David Crandall (sound and music) Alisa Mandel (masks) Linda Murray (choreography) Ian Armstrong (photography) Chris Pifer and Andre Manley (stage managers). Cast: Christopher Henley, Carter Jahncke, Linda Murray.

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Reviewed March 19
 Running time 1 hour
t Potomac Stages Pick

Storyline: A thug from the underside of Dublin tells about the day it all seemed to go wrong in the profession of a hit man. Things got out of hand, he explains. But he never sees any connection between his actions and the results, never reveals any feelings of guilt or remorse or even any real sorrow about the mess his life has become or the pile of corpses he leaves behind.

Lucas knows a thing or two about solo-plays. He’s performed them before and he has written them. He wrote and performed Prescious Lam’, at Keegan and National Theatres as well as delivering it as part of the Prelude Festival that kicked off the current season at the Kennedy Center.

The two works bear a similarity, but there are differences as well. Both are one-hour conversations directed at the audience by a low-life failure. But, where Lam’ had the performer slipping into the various characters of the story, Thief is entirely in the voice of the central character. He describes what others said and did but doesn’t act them out. Another difference is that the Lucas’ Lam’ character has an abiding sense of pride, an ego that requires him to put failure behind him so as to free up the path to deserved inevitable success. McPherson’s Thief character has lost all pride, all hope and nearly all ego – he’s no longer seeking success, he’s surviving.

There’s no credit in the program for set design because there is no set. What there is is a table, a chair, an ashtray, a bottle and a glass. Lucas chain smokes Marlboros and downs a shot of whisky at each shift in the narrative. With as many shots as he’s consuming, it doesn’t ring true that his words stay crisp and clearly enunciated as the hour passes. That is the only thing that doesn’t ring true about the performance. Lucas makes you feel you really are in the presence of this creep and that presence is mesmerizing.

Written by Connor McPherson. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Lynn Joslin (lights) David Crandall (sound) Ian Armstrong (photography) Ann Fleming (stage manager). Cast: Eric Lucas.

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November 26 – December 22, 2002
Shopping and F#%king

Reviewed December 11
Running time 2 hours

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Reviewed March 29
Running time 2 hours 10 minutes

Written by Iakovos Kambanellis. Translated by Ken Tsitzeli and Melina Sardi. Directed by Robert McNamara. Design: Michael Stepowany (set) Tony Starnes (lights) Justin Light (costumes.) Cast: Ioanna Gavakou, Richard Mancini, Ross Dippel, Regan Wilson, Mariel Buhler, Ashley Strand, Elizabeth Pierotti, Kimberly Gilbert.