Category: Theatre

REVIEW: Wicked

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After several disappointing movie-musical adaptations in recent years, I was skeptical that Wicked would be any different. As the first musical I had ever seen, and on Broadway in New York no less, I had especially high expectations. However, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the hype surrounding the movie was justified. Under the guidance of director Jon M. Chu, with a talented main cast including Ariana Grande (Glinda), Cynthia Erivo (Elphaba), and Jonathan Bailey (Fiyero), Wicked offered a refreshing take with a charm that still retained the essence of the Broadway play that sparked my love for musical theatre.

Based on Gregory Maguire’s novel Wicked, the story is a prequel to The Wizard of Oz. The main character, Elphaba, grows up experiencing hardships due to her unusual green skin. Ostracized by even her own family, she is nonetheless loved by her nanny. Because of this, she grows up with a pure heart. When she sends her younger sister to Shiz University, Elphaba catches the eye of Madame Morrible, played by Michelle Yeoh. Morrible is a famous magical history professor and the object of admiration for Glinda, a beautiful and popular girl who has lived a life essentially the opposite of Elphaba’s. As the story progresses, it explores the complex relationship between the two women. Their character development is one of the highlights of the story, touching on themes of friendship, values, purpose, and societal expectations. Grande and Erivo’s chemistry, both on and off screen, brought this relationship to life brilliantly. 

Despite both the musical and the movie running for roughly three hours, the movie only covers half of the original story. I did feel that the pacing dragged at times, with the plot progressing slowly—almost frustratingly so. However, this slower pace gave more creative freedom to the director and actors. Compared to the stage production, Elphaba and Glinda felt more alive in this version. Their characters were more developed and complex, which created a deeper connection with the audience. I particularly enjoyed Glinda’s nuanced portrayal, whereas in the play, she seemed more ditzy and one-dimensional.

Though I find live singing and dancing more impactful, the movie was still incredibly immersive. The film’s close-up shots of the characters, their costumes, and facial expressions added a level of intimacy that the stage production can’t match. The lighting and camera angles also contributed to a richer atmosphere. The movie was visually striking and the vivid colors truly brought the fantasy world of Oz to life. These added details allowed for more foreshadowing, extensive world-building, and deeper character development. It never felt like a simple recording of the play. 

A friend of mine, who is more versed in musical theatre techniques, also offered some insightful commentary on how film is a unique medium. On stage, only those sitting in the front row get to see the actors’ faces clearly, and even then, it’s impossible to catch all the small details. It’s difficult to compare movies and theatre because they offer different experiences and strengths. Perhaps that’s why I remain skeptical about many movie-musical adaptations retaining a high quality—they’re often unfairly compared to the original. Nevertheless, Wicked is proof that a great musical-movie adaptation is possible.

REVIEW: John Proctor Is the Villain

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

On the night of November 21st, my friend and I walked out of the Lydia Mendelssohn Theatre in a passionate discussion about the SMTD performance of John Proctor Is the Villain, a comedy-drama written by Kimberly Belflower. Going in, I was intrigued by the play’s premise and curious about how it would intertwine the themes of The Crucible—a play written by U-M grad Arthur Miller—with contemporary issues.

John Proctor Is the Villain takes place at Helen County High, the only high school in a small town in Georgia. Set in 2018, when the #MeToo movement on social media gained attention, the story follows a group of high school juniors during their spring semester (coincidentally, I was also a junior in high school then). Most scenes occur in the classroom of Carter Smith, a young, charismatic, and popular teacher. Although Mr. Smith’s class is small, his students embody the archetypes of nerdy, sporty, chic, and emo characters you would expect to find in a larger high school. As Mr. Smith and his students read The Crucible, they begin to discuss John Proctor, who, despite being an adulterer, enjoys a good reputation and is praised as a hero. At the same time, a group of girls formed a club to explore what feminism exactly means and how to be a feminist. 

Though it starts lightheartedly, this production dives headfirst into heavy themes, including racist and sexist language, depictions of violence, and abusive relationships. At its core, the play is a commentary on sexual assault, highlighting how it remains a pervasive issue that is too often dismissed or ignored. As the plot thickens, the shifting dynamics reveal the profound disparities and emotional toll that sexual assault takes on both victims and those connected to them. The play explores a range of complex emotions—confusion, disbelief, embarrassment, anger, sadness, and more—all of which feel raw and deeply human. As I watched from the audience, the character development prompted me to reflect on my past relationships, experiences, and vulnerabilities.

The actors’ accurate portrayals of these complexities made the performance even more impactful and thought-provoking. Their depiction of messy teenage friendships—fraught with reluctance and miscommunication—felt incredibly realistic. Through desperate and hesitant tones in their voices and insecure body language, they authentically captured the essence of adolescence. Student actor Hugh Finnigan embodied Mr. Smith’s charismatic persona so convincingly that, from the beginning, I gravitated toward his character. His confidence and mannerisms fondly reminded me of my favorite high school teachers.

The production’s minimal set design—consisting solely of school desks and a blackboard—underscored the idea that no environment, no matter how safe or familiar it seems, is immune to the threat of sexual assault and harassment. The costumes and makeup reflected each character’s stereotypical personality, but by the end of the play, teach us not to judge a book by its cover. Finally, the dance-break transitions between scenes became a powerful visual metaphor for resilience, symbolizing the characters’ capacity to reclaim power and persevere.

John Proctor Is the Villain delivered a surreal and eye-opening experience, culminating in an ending that felt chilling, uplifting, shocking, and awe-inspiring all at once. Moments that initially seemed surface-level gained significant weight as the characters displayed profound growth and emotional depth. By analyzing their behavior, reactions, and capacity for trust, the play sheds light on how people navigate societal pressures and personal challenges.

As my friend and I left the theatre, we found ourselves discussing how societal norms shape the assumptions we make about people in our everyday lives and how dangerous these assumptions can be in perpetuating harmful power structures. This production left an indelible impression, and I would highly recommend it to anyone seeking a thoughtful and emotionally resonant theatrical experience.



REVIEW: Hänsel und Gretel

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

From November 14th – 17th, students from SMTD’s Department of Voice & Opera presented Hänsel und Gretel, a whimsical and comical opera inspired by the Brothers Grimm fairy tale. On opening night, I walked in expecting a darker, more traditional retelling. Having recently read the original story for my English class, the haunting imagery and fast-paced plot were fresh in my mind. What I witnessed instead was a playful and modern reinterpretation that completely reimagined the tale I thought I knew. 

The opera began with Hansel and Gretel doing chores at home while horsing around. At this point, there was no dialogue; instead, the introduction was driven entirely by the music, with decorative trills and glissandos setting the tone. This lack of narration effectively established the scene, suggesting their actions were simply part of their daily routine. What stood out to me was the siblings’ dynamic, which differed from the original story. In this version, Gretel had more depth and independence. For instance, she had some attitude, and the two siblings squabbled early on. By the end, their tumultuous relationship evolved into a partnership where they worked together to overcome their struggles, making their character arcs feel more rewarding.

I was truly amazed by the quality of the music, particularly Hansel and Gretel’s vocals. Their voices projected clearly, and their vibrato and dynamics added a compelling layer to the storytelling. The pit orchestra, which was noticeably larger than those in musicals I’ve seen, played a pivotal role. Their synchronization with the actors heightened the emotional impact of the scenes, particularly in the introduction, and their technical consistency throughout the two-hour performance was impressive. 

The set designs were among my favorite aspects of the production, particularly in Act II and Act III, when the visuals became increasingly surreal. The TVs hanging around the stage were a quirky and creative touch that enhanced the eerie atmosphere of the woods and the chaotic energy of the Witch’s house. By displaying images like green mist and blinding lights, they played a crucial role in establishing the mood of each scene. The Witch’s house, made entirely of brightly branded cereal boxes, was both unexpected and amusing, providing a modern twist on the traditional gingerbread aesthetic.

 

 

The Witch was undoubtedly my favorite character. From the moment she appeared on stage, I was completely captivated by her eccentric and flamboyant costume. It was a riot of bright colors and peculiar accessories—such as eating utensils—and cleverly mirrored her chaotic personality and desire to consume the children. Her absurd and unpredictable presence made her scenes incredibly fun to watch, and I found myself smiling throughout. The audience shared my feelings, as frequent laughter echoed during her antics. 

 

 

Overall, this was an enjoyable performance. The chaotic and playful nature of the plot kept me engaged, especially when the production deviated from the original tale in surprising ways. The opera felt like a magical adventure that breathed new life into a familiar fairy tale. However, since the entire performance was sung in German, I often had to look away from the stage to read the subtitles, which detracted slightly from my experience but didn’t overshadow the production’s many strengths. I highly recommend this production to anyone who enjoys fairy tales and is open to seeing them reimagined in unexpected and creative ways.

REVIEW: 33 Variations

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December 6 | 11:00 pm | Newman Studio

 

Humans are naturally doused in curiosity. We’ve discovered the depths of Earth’s oceans while making our way to parts of outer space we probably were not intended for. The desire for complete discovery exists on both the largest and smallest of scales. A riling little mystery from the composer Ludwig von Beethoven’s expansive musical life has enchanted playwright Moisés Kaufman, writing a play of the same name: 33 Variations, in which he sends leading lady Dr. Katherine Brandt on her own expedition to uncover the reason for his insist creation of the tune.

In 1819, music publisher Anton Diabelli commissioned Beethoven to write a short variation of his waltz for a larger publication. Beethoven found it pedestrian and blew it off, but at some point, something intrigued him about the tune. This detail left out of history led him to ambitiously compose thirty-three variations on the waltz over the last few years of his life.

What changed? Why did Beethoven spend the height of his compositional years on a piece considered elementary?

Ella Saliba as Dr. Katherine Brandt.

Modern-day musicologist Dr. Katherine Brandt (Ella Saliba) travels to Bonn, Germany, to study Beethoven’s manuscripts from the 1820s. Clara (Aliyah Douglas), her restless daughter, disapproves of the journey due to her mother’s declining health from ALS and eventually joins her in Europe. The two often exchange fiery discourse, “You don’t love anything that you can’t understand,” Clara jabs. Their rocky relationship is exacerbated by Clara’s lack of career commitment and her cumbersome relationship with her mother’s nurse from the U.S., Mike Clark (Landon Wouters, whose character is hilariously inappropriate & full of laughs).

The play shifts between 19th-century Vienna and the present, while Beethoven (Nick Aiello) struggles to pay rent and faces his own ailments. His secretary, Anton Schindler (a charming James Parascandola), converses back and forth with Mr. Anton Diabelli (Marcus Byers) over four years while Beethoven writes his variations.

Through a plot with cadences that come off more bleak than cheerful, there is an abundance of humor woven into Kaufman’s hefty script. Aiello, Byers, and Parascandola are responsible for that—the three’s hilarious riffs were plentiful and cheeky. Perhaps nudging to the fact many of Beethoven’s variations do undoubtedly poke fun at Diabelli.

A young Ella Saliba earnestly waltzes through the life of the much more mature Dr. Katherine Brant. As Ms. Saliba explored Katherine’s ever-consuming and impassioned journey onstage, what the audience found was a deeply impressive, humble, and moving performance—resulting in a very misty curtain call.

James Parascandola and Marcus Byers.

One of the most exceptional parts of the play is the live pianist performing the “33 Variations” in real time. I would be remiss not to point out pianist Eric Head’s sensitive performance. This notoriously challenging work was greeted with poise from Head, providing an irreplaceable vibrance to the atmosphere.

Kaufman’s play may occasionally feel oversaturated with detail, but I was transfixed by his sentimental characters. The parallels between these two human lives across more than a century are deeply clever. Life’s ever-ticking clock is often responsible for igniting humanity’s obsessive quest for meaning in our short engagements on Earth, a theme poignantly embodied by Mr. Aiello and Ms. Saliba. I do hope Dr. Brandt found the answers she wanted, for she at least discovered the beauty nestled within the ordinary.

 

 

 

Images thanks to Basement Arts. 

REVIEW: Uncle Vanya

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December 13 | 7:30 pm | Ann Arbor Civic Theater

 

 

Chekhov’s stories task audiences to examine the challenges of the human condition. In one of his most famous plays, Uncle Vanya, troubles manifest in a more ironically despairing way. The production, which ran for a second weekend at Ann Arbor Civic Theater last Friday, centers on the near-penniless Ivan Petrovich Voynitsky (better known as “Vanya”), who claims to have the most troubles—at least he thinks so. His extended family joins him at his late sister’s estate, only to share his dissatisfaction with life. How does a play doused in apathy preserve itself over a hundred years? And who is paying the mortgage?

Vanya’s (Trevor Maher) loathing is interrupted when his brother-in-law, the ex-professor Alexander Serebrakov (Bryan Shane), arrives with his beautiful new wife, Helena (the stoic Nicole Arruda). She becomes the object of affection for both Vanya and the household doctor, Michael Astroff (a spritely Joseph McDonald). The two men are infatuated with Helena, while she harbors only ambiguous feelings for Astroff. Yet she grapples with an understated resentment toward Alexander (Mr. Shane, who led a stately and demanding performance).

While Dr. Astroff and Helena shared coy exchanges, the spark of love did not burn bright for the young Sonia (Mackenzie Finley), Vanya’s niece, who had a seemingly teenage infatuation with Dr. Astroff. Though he flirted with the idea of her affection, the only make-out sesh occurred between him and Helena (unknowing to Alexander, of course). All this romantic ruckus left “Waffles” (Larry Rusinsky) and the family nurse Marina (a charming Wendy Wright) as the standing symbols of support and consistency.

Trevor Maher as Vanya.

As Ms. Wendy Katz Hiller’s director’s note acknowledged, productions of Uncle Vanya are appearing all over the country: The Broadway Revival starring Steve Carrell ran last spring, and Andrew Scott’s one-man Vanya from the West End is culminating in a Broadway run next spring. In addition to those big productions, I’m confident you could find at least one Uncle Vanya in every major city across the U.S. Vanya’s existentialism and exhaustion are wrapped in a search for purpose, creating a character who can be frustratingly familiar. The beauty of Chekhov’s text lies in its sustained relevance across decades, revealing universal feelings that make the production feel timely at many points in our history.

The usual two-and-a-half-hour runtime was whittled down to a crisp 95 minutes by Ms. Hiller—a choice greeted with narrative clarity for modern audiences. We see a succinct plot line, only at the expense of some poetic dialogue (which works for me!). Though, I found myself pining for a dramaturgical deep dive into performance. Historical context enriches a story for me, especially as this work shares many stifling thematic elements with its Chekhovian siblings, The Cherry Orchard and The Seagull (as far as depressed people living under deteriorating wealth go).

Vanya’s inner turmoil brings a bittersweet resolution where life continues unchanged despite everyone’s despair. I begged to feel hope from this story, just as I often do in our modern world, but the only condolence I received was, “We shall rest!” from the optimistic Sonia. Though these characters feel bleak, the curtain call reminded me that hope does exist in the resonance of community-driven theater—where timeless art can be found in every nook and cranny of Ann Arbor.

 

 

 

 

Photos thanks to Ann Arbor Civic Theater. 

REVIEW: As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow – The Play

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On December 6th, at 5 PM, the Ford Collaboratory in the Mardigian Library became a portal to war-torn Syria through the powerful stage adaptation of Zoulfa Katouh’s As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow. The story, which follows Salama Kassab’s heartbreaking journey through the Syrian civil war, was beautifully translated into a theatrical experience

The play centered on Salama (played by Leila Haddad in a standout performance), a former pharmacy student turned volunteer medic. Leila captureed Salama’s internal struggle with raw, unflinching authenticity. Her portrayal of guilt, hope, and despair—especially in moments of silence—felt like a masterclass in restraint. Haddad’s ability to convey emotion, especially in the quieter, more introspective moments, was mesmerizing.

Image Courtesy: Leila Ghaznavi

However, where the play truly shone was in its staging. Director Amira Shafiq, President of the Theater club, created an intimate, immersive experience that makes the audience feel as though they’re walking alongside Salama in the ruins of Homs. The use of minimalist sets striked a balance between realism and surrealism. The lighting design deserved special mention, with its stark contrasts between the warm glow of past memories and the cold, unforgiving present.

One of the play’s most intriguing choices was the personification of Khawf, Salama’s manifestation of fear. Actor Omar Darwish gave Khawf a chilling yet oddly sympathetic presence. His interactions with Salama—at times antagonistic, at times comforting—perfectly captured the inner turmoil of living through unimaginable horrors. These scenes, while impactful, occasionally slowed the pacing slightly, but they were essential in depicting her mental and emotional state.

The dialogue, much of it drawn directly from the book, was both poetic and raw, though some lines feel better suited to the page than the stage. While some of Salama’s reflections felt a bit expository when spoken aloud, they still carried the emotional weight of her journey.

“Perhaps this could have been remedied with more physical storytelling or additional silences to let the weight of the words sink in,” added Alexis Mohammed, a student at the University of Michigan Dearborn.

The supporting cast also delivered heartfelt performances. Yasmin Agha brought warmth and strength to the role of Layla, Salama’s pregnant best friend, though her limited stage time left her arc feeling somewhat underexplored. Karim Al-Rashed, as Salama’s brother Sami, offered moments of levity and hope, with his final scene leaving the audience in stunned silence.

One of the play’s most powerful moments was the climactic hospital scene. The chaos of wounded civilians flooding in, enhanced by overlapping shouts, frantic movement, and a pulsing soundscape, left both Salama and the audience breathless. It was a visceral reminder of the relentless toll of war.

That said, the play did struggle to capture some of the novel’s nuance, especially in depicting Salama’s quieter moments of healing and growth. The ending, while emotionally charged, felt slightly rushed, leaving the audience including myself, yearning for a deeper exploration of Salama’s transformation.

As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow is a story that demands to be told, and this stage adaptation did justice to its poignant message. With stellar performances, innovative staging, and a deeply personal tone, the December 6th performance was more than a play—it was a call to bear witness, to empathize, and to remember.