Enemy of the People (review)

Spoilers ahoy! 

Henrik Ibsen was by all accounts a curmudgeon of the first order.  The story goes on his sickbed an annoyingly chipper nurse greeted him one morning with the words "Are we feeling better Mr. Ibsen?" whereupon he snarled "On the contrary!" and died.

The lead character in Bart DeLorenzo's adaptation of Ibsen's Enemy of the People feels as if made from the same cloth.  He is an honest man, a scientist with a streak of integrity a mile wide and one of stubbornness at least the same size.  Dr. Jay Stockmann (Jay Paulson) finds himself in the deeply unpleasant position of learning a terrible truth, one that inconveniences/threatens the livelihoods of a large community--that the natural springs upon which his town now depends are contaminated and will soon start making all who use them sick.

He faces an uphill battle at best, with his own brother (Jason McBeth) leading the charge against him, hurling charges and libels and bribery as well as much emotional blackmail as he can muster defending the status quo.  Jay's wife (Cara Mitsuko) remains staunchly by his side, even as she increasingly sees this man she loves in a starker light.  He is correct, and honest, and perceptive in the extreme about the world--but he is not really the man she thought he was.  While standing up against even friends and former allies, played by a generally stellar cast (Lauren Campanelli, DeJuan Christopher, Dennis Dun, Clay Hollander), very few people seem either as complete villains nor heroes.  All are flawed, which makes the tale nuanced, feeling very truthful. 

To be honest, though, the play comes across sometimes as less of a human drama and more of a strident complaint about everything we might agree is wrong with our society in toto.  Message plays often have to thread a lot of needles to work, and this one might be failing a few of those needles.  It feels odd saying that, because the arguments made seem valid in the extreme.  But it does diffuse the story by turning into a polemic.  At least that is how it feels.  Which need not be a bad thing, at all!  The sense I got in the end was was nuance--the sheer scope of issues addressed distracted.  Writing as much makes me feel a bit like a coward, since every point raised seems more than valid, seems vital.  

At the play's end, I felt weary and somewhat hopeless.  Which may have been the point, the goal, in order to motivate me and the rest of the audience.

If so, bravo.

If not, this remains a compelling and thoughtful piece of powerful theatre.

As of this writing, performances of Enemy of the People are available on Friday September 25 and Saturday September 26 at 8pm, with performances 3pm and 7:30pm on Sunday September 27 at the Odyssey Theatre 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90025.

 

Green Corridors (review)

Spoilers ahoy!

The title of the current production at City Garage, Green Corridors, refers to a path through the war-torn regions of Ukraine where refugees might find safe passage abroad.  The play,  by Natalka Vorozbhyt  translated by John Freedman with Natalia Bratus, focuses on a group of such.  

Interestingly, here is a play about the Ukraine War almost entirely set outside that nation, following some refugees who find their way into Western Europe.  Such echoes a classic story line made most famous as either The Odyssey or maybe Lord of the Rings.  It is about people called abroad by need, who find their hearts and events call them back home.

We all want a home, after all.  All of us long for a place, a history, a group of people we call our own.  Invasion and war, organized human violence in other words, force us away yet call us back.  

The cast--including such regulars with this theatre as Angela Beyer, and Martha Duncan, as well as Ricky Lee Grove, Alicia Ivanhoe, Dennis Kimmel, Georgia Orchid, Cruz St. James, and Eric Trosch--do a splendid job of showing us this collection of individuals trying their very best to live, to love, to deal with rage as well as humiliation.  Frankly I felt an eerie sense of deja vu throughout, of every single time my own life has turned topsy turvy in some way.  From living through hurricanes, weathering the passing of friends and family, to enduring the frankly ever-growing terror of recent events (at my own home as well as abroad), the emotional strings of memory felt drummed upon again and again. 

I am a big fan of CityGarage, and have been for years.  Honestly this production is among the most powerful I have ever seen from them, which please believe is very high praise indeed.

As of this writing, Green Corridors has one more weekend, Friday and Saturday at 8pm and Sunday at 4pm on September 27, 2026 at Bergamot Station Arts Center, 2525 Michigan Ave. T1, Santa Monica, Ca, 90404.

Limonade Tous les Jours (review)

Spoilers ahoy! 

We are living in a time of great tumult, great stress, great events hurtling toward tragedies of vast size.

Hence this show, Limonade Tous les Jours (Lemonade Every Day), by Charles L. Mee proves rather more than a mere distraction. 

Yes, it is a love story (directed by Frederique Michel) between two people--a middle aged Andrew (David E. Frank) and the much younger singer YaYa (Nicolet Anton), each trying to recover from respective failed marriages in Paris.  He's about twenty years older, but she likes older man.  Just as he likes at least more vivacious, unpredictable women.  An never seen friend is the reason they meet, and the chemistry is electric almost at once.

But--here is the thing.  A typical romcom (and I quite like a good example of that genre) involves all sorts of plot elements keeping the lovers apart.  Not so, here.  Absolutely nothing is in their way.  No prior commitments.  Both are in the same city.  Neither has another love interest.  Do they have some secrets they share and/or are trying to keep from each other?  No!  Is there some countdown, spelling some kind of disaster if they don't hook up by a certain hour?  Again, no.  Are other characters tying them up with their own complex storylines, forever interfering with our lovers declaring they feel?  Yet again--NO.

So what is their way?

Each other.  Sincere belief this is a bad idea becomes the center piece of one fascinating conversation after another.  They tell each other all kinds of uncomfortable truths.  Both agree completely the age difference is too much, each has habits that doom any hope of love between them, neither one can ever change enough to ever achieve happiness partnered with them--even as chemistry, the communication, the trust grows by the minute!  Neither of them give one inch to their mutually agreed upon certainties.  At the same time Andrew and YaYa don't walk away--although they never stop insisting they will!  No matter how much he annoys her, she frustrates and insults him, their declarations increasingly mean nothing.

What they feel is love.  Obviously.  Even they know that, but reject it as foolish at best.  Which could be hilarious!  Yet instead it feels equal parts lovely and heart-breaking.  No small feat!

Part of all this lies in a third actor (Cruz St. James) who in turn plays several waiters, at least one dancer, a dress designer, and other roles--a singing, dancing Greek Chorus full not with pronouncements of doom but rather rather wry, gentle, piercing yet somehow kind observations about the human heart.  Again, sung and danced as well as spoken.  

What emerges from all this proves a startlingly kind as well as hopeful portrait of a relationship.  One where a lonely older man and lonely young woman, each living way too much in their words,  yet at the same time are vividly alive.  Especially when together.  Which is a damn fine symptom of love.  Amid so many worries, so many fears, so very many reasons to despair of what they want--in the end, they act.  Not with cynicism.  Not even a little bit.  Looking at each other, touching each other, Andrew and YaYa show themselves as full of hope.  In deed if not in words.

But not only in deed, also in song.  Did I mention in many ways this is a musical?  Most of the songs are in French, but don't worry.  You don't need to under stand a single word.  This is not about words.  

All three performances are as quietly glorious as a perfect haiku, or maybe a simple but exquisite bouquet of flowers.  Or maybe something else exquisite.  Because that word defines this specific play. Exquisite.  Like a drink of something icy and perfect on a hot summer day, or a magnificent blanket in a winter night.

Limonade Tous Les Jours runs Fridays and Saturdays at 8pm, Sundays at 4pm until June 28, 2026 at City Garage, 2525 Michigan Ave. Building T1, Santa Monica, CA 90404.

Exit The King (review)

sPoiLErS AhoY!

I like to praise Los Angeles live theatre as being huge, diverse, brave, and very high quality.

My opinion holds in part because last week I saw the premiere of Exit The King by Eugene Ionesco at A Noise Within.  Not only is this an excellent production of a difficult play, it is the second such I've seen in this city in the last decade!  Both also took startlingly different/wonderful directions as well!

This version, done with kind of spectacular sets, lights, costume design this company's budget can afford, has at its heart a very talented and focused cast.  Such a combination manages to hit an startling number of targets available in this play.  For example, it remains genuinely funny, amid a lot of slapstick and silliness.  

King Bérenger the First (Henri Lubatti) is the title character, monarch of a land in a massive, in fact impossible state of decline.  The borders have shrunk, the water stopped being drinkable, the citizenry are few, far between, and all feeble-minded.  Not only that, the sun burns less bright and sounds grow less loud!  

Young Queen Marie (Erika Soto) refuses to believe one word of this.  She insists the kingdom and king himself remain a vital as ever, even as the latter can barely stand without help.  His Majesty agrees with her, even as Queen Marguerite (Joy DeMichelle) and the Doctor (Ralph Cole Jr.) insist on the truth.  The King is dying.  In fact, he has maybe ninety minutes left.  Give or take.  Until the curtain, anyway.  Against the backdrop of all this, Juliette the maid/cook/scullery/seamstress et al (KT Vogt) and the Guard (Lynn Robert Berg) try to make sense of this all.  Juliette's life is horrible, tough, full of back-breaking labor and no joy.  The Guard recalls the glories--and yes, the atrocities--of the King's fantastical, horrible, and frankly unbelievable past (including his invention of the airplane).  Mostly, though, the King struggles with increasing desperation and decreasing ability to understand his inevitable End.

Now, this is widely regarded as an example of the theatre of the absurd.  Yet we feel for the characters.  Recognize their own pain, their sometimes courage, as well as periodic terror and/or heroic efforts to hold back the night.

Is this what is absurd?  Yes.  So too every word spoken by each character, half of which make no sense, most of the others consist of brave or foolish (sometimes both) efforts to face DEATH.  Because words remain imperfect tools at their very best, at their most moving, most beautiful.  What about the ones who accept this looming doom?  Are they absurd?  Of course!  Just as the King himself, as he sinks into darkness against his will, struggling with shrinking awareness and power to somehow do what we all think we would do--refuse to give up, to surrender, to rage against the dying of the light.  He too is absurd.

For that matter, isn't it absurd we watch and hear all this, feeling for people who do not exist, could not exist, and who in the end do not really die?  Not yet, anyway.

Not the mention the cast, the playwright, the director (Michael Michetti) and all the wonderful artists who fashioned this performance...!

Absurd how all this pretending about nothing real, somehow also reminds us both of the absurdity of it all--and also makes us feel exactly what these fake people would feel if only they existed.

Just as if we existed.

Exit The King has performances Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 7: 30 p.m. as well as  Saturdays and Sundays at 2 p.m. until May 31, 2026 at A Noise Within, 3352 E Foothill Blvd. Pasadena, CA 91107.