Category: Theatre

REVIEW: Sasha Velour in the Big Reveal Live Show

the eye online Leave a comment

The historic stage of the Michigan Theater sits sparse, except for a comfortable cyan lounge chair, a cozy floor lamp, a vintage two-knob TV, and a dainty desk with Sasha Velour’s The Big Reveal: An Illustrated Manifesto of Drag neatly atop it.

On screen behind them, a prerecorded Sasha Velour dangles a disco ball from an elegant, silver finger. As Jennifer Lopez’s Waiting for Tonight begins to play, Sasha caresses the disco ball with her other hand, and as a spotlight appears on the cyan lounge chair, the audience waits with bated breath.

In an instant, the chair blanket is yanked back to reveal…

Sasha Velour…inside the chair…and I was gagged by possibly one of the best live reveals I’ve ever seen.

Her ruby lips gleamed unobstructed through a face-sized hole, as she began to lip sync sections of Kylie Minogue’s futuristic In My Arms, Dionne Warwick’s forever cherished A House is Not a Home, and Brandy’s *perfect* rendition of In My Own Little Corner.

As the chorus of Britney Spears’ Stronger begins, Sasha sheds the chair from which she came, only to become…

Sasha Velour…the chair, again…I was gagged again.

She struts in a brocade gown of the same cyan fabric, cream tassels on her shoulders and hips, and chair arms accentuating her tightly-corseted waist…a hybridized perfection of camp, glamour, and humor on full display to close act one.

As the energy in the room quells, Sasha reflects on her grandmother Dina, who came to America from China as a Jewish immigrant during World War II and, “would always encourage me [Velour] to channel my inner diva.” Showing videos of herself as a child, Sasha cherishes these moments aloud on stage, gushing about how Dina’s love and enthusiasm shaped her as a child, and now as a performer.

In one of a series of hilarious video skits, Velour switches between various personas, who comment on drag’s significance across communities: a medium of history, of fun, of revolution. Velour asserts that drag can be anything, for anyone, and this fundamental freedom affords drag infinite power.

But what happens when this freedom is at stake? Unafraid of asking the difficult questions, Velour challenges the audience to both revel in the privilege of being able to attend her show and share in her sense of growing urgency towards collectively understanding what these next few years will bring, not just for the queer community, but for everyone the Trump administration seeks to erase.

Drag is not dangerous for children, and helps to embolden those who need creative outlets of expression… “I have always been Sasha Velour…drag has a spiritual mission to give each other the biggest gift in life — to be seen and documented as we really are…to write our own stories”. The Big Reveal is everything a drag performance should be: It acknowledges what drag has been, what it is now, and everything it can be, while somehow completely exceeding the expectations of any audience member or Sasha Velour fan in the audience.

Even if you didn’t have a chance to see Sasha Velour, supporting your local drag scene helps to contribute to the parts of her show that still sit within me as I write this — drag is more than just a performance, it is the establishment of ones’ identity in relation to themselves and their community. It is a way of surviving, thriving, and ultimately, existing in the world in a profoundly beautiful way. A way of life that has always existed, and will continue to thrive in spite of those who seek to refute it.

REVIEW: Nate – A One Man Show

Maeve Ricks Leave a comment

Have you ever felt your jaw ache from being dropped in shock for a whole hour?

No? Oh, well, that’s too bad. You sure are missing out… To experience it firsthand, go see Nate – A One Man Show. 

In its 146th season, the University Musical Society (UMS) presents Nate – A One Man Show (Nate for short), as its penultimate showing in its fourth iteration of the “No Safety Net Series.” This series of performances promises “audiences a platform to engage with high-impact theatre that challenges conventions and confronts complex themes head-on.” Nate is no exception. 

Created and performed by Natalie Palamides, Nate – A One Man Show is an hour long comedy performance that shocks and shines through the smoke of fake Marlboro cigarettes. Performing entirely in drag, Natalie becomes Nate: a shorter and overconfident look alike to the Brawny paper towel man who sports a cowboy mustache, black eye, and cargo pants. 

From start to finish, Nate shocks, disgusts, and humors the audience. Palamides plays an exhibitionist who demands applause and validation, and the audience willingly gives it up. As Nate quips, “bitches be thirsty.” And we sure are, drinking up every crude joke, racy pose, and can of free LaCroix that Nate hands out. 

Nate pouring LaCroix down his face to simulate crying
Nate pours a can of LaCroix down his face to “feel something.”

Speaking of liquids, beware the splash zone! Nate has a tendency to spray the audience whether it’s from the cans of LaCroix he shotguns or the shower he takes in a kiddy pool. I sat in the mezzanine thanking G-d that I wasn’t anywhere near the chaos of this show. Audience participation is voluntary, of course, but, as this show examines, consent isn’t always black and white. 

Throughout the show, Nate asks many audience members (and the stray mannequin) for consent to interact with them in whatever raunchy way the show calls for. Even a general liability waiver is signed at one point. Beyond legal documentation, the show’s usage of asking for consent highlights the grey areas in which we ask for and give consent. This important conversation, masked by comedy, asks more questions than it answers, leaving me with a sour, but welcome taste in my mouth. 

Behind the absurdity that Nate presents, lies a familiar, yet unstated debate: man vs bear. Recently a point of division on social media, the debate asks “would you rather be alone in the woods with a man or with a bear?” In this case, would you rather be alone in the theatre with Nate or with a bear? 

Maybe someday we will have answers to these questions. Maybe one day, it’ll be easier to be alone with someone like Nate in the woods. For now, though, Nate will continue to ride his toy motorcycle into theatres across the globe, and audience members will continue to drive their cars to these theatres to feel the weight of their jaws on the floor. 

 

If you weren’t able to catch Nate in Ann Arbor this February 5th-10th, you can watch Nate – A One Man Show on Netflix.

REVIEW: Wicked

Sappy Leave a comment

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

Sappy Leave a comment

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

Sappy Leave a comment

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

musicalsoup Leave a comment

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.