Category: Theatre

REVIEW: Sense and Sensibility: The Musical

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March 13 | 7:30pm | The Encore Musical Theater Company

 

 

Wondering if Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility  would be a good musical was not a burning question on my mind. Yet it was answered at the Encore Theater last week to the sound of a four-piece orchestra and a starry cast from Broadway’s favorite shows.

The 1811 novel was adapted by Jefferey Haddow (Book & Lyrics) and Neal Hampton (Music) for the stage, and it’s been in production since 2009, almost 16 years—which is subsequently how long it felt to sit through the show.

(As it goes) In the 19th century, the two daughters of Mr. Henry Dashwood are left with no permanent income after his death. So, marriage to a wealthy man of status will cure all ailments. The girls desire stability, but more pressing is love. The pragmatic Elinor Dashwood (Chelsea Packard) struggles with unrequited feelings for Edward Ferrars (Adam Woolsey), while her passionate sister Marianne (Jessica Grové) falls deeply for the winsome but unreliable John Willoughby (Chad Marge).

With nineteen songs in Act I and a whopping twenty-one in Act II, the show lingered, with few musical ideas to latch onto. The piece felt dense, and not every moment that segued into songs felt convincing dramatically. Some numbers functioned akin to opera, honing in on a character’s feelings in place of advancing the plot. Which makes for a host of details but leaves much exposition to the scenes.

Ms. Packard’s voice is as silky and sophisticated as the five or six pastel dresses she wears, finding herself distant from Elphaba’s belting in Wicked. Her 11 o’clock number, “Not Even You,” explored her wildly flexible voice but fell flat from lackluster lyrics. Ms. Grové was a spunky Marianne on stage, and aside from nearly dying from falling in the rain, was convincing and vocally stunning.

In Act I, the Colonel becomes infatuated with Marianne after only one encounter (reminding him of a past love named Lydia), but Marianne runs off with the charming Willoughby for most of the show. The climax of the story felt grazed over: when we find out that Willoughby has been the abuser of countless women, including our beloved Marianne. The reveal lasted a mere moment on stage, so quick that I almost didn’t catch it. This prompted a swiftly smitten marriage between the Colonel and Marianne, which felt like a tardy continuation of their love story. I’m glad Marianne found a sensible husband, but I craved a depth to their romance throughout the musical for a cleaner payoff in the end.

I wonder about the impetus of telling this story now. The characters have troubles far away from modern strife, but at least they remind us to trust our hearts. Perhaps the true issues of these noble girls could be better solved in a rewrite.

 

 

 

 

 

Images thanks to The Encore Musical Theater Company. 

REVIEW: The Government Inspector

Maeve Ricks Leave a comment

Notice of Content: This article references moments of death by suicide and instances of fatphobia in a theatrical performance. Read with care.

 

Every piece of art should resonate with the urgency of a question: “Why now?” Yet, after watching the University of Michigan Musical Theatre Department’s studio production of The Government Inspector, I’m left scratching my head, struggling to understand the artistic vision.

This comedy of errors originally written in mid-19th-century Russia by Nikolai Gogol follows the story of a small town frightened by the news of an inspector, spying and evaluating the organization of their community. As mistaken identities and drunken behaviors abound, the townsfolk turn to bribery, flirtations, and trusty ol’ vodka to impress their supposed inspector. In Jeffrey Hatcher’s adaptation, what’s supposed to be a poignant satirization of greed, political corruption, and stupidity falls flat in comparison to the glaring offenses performed onstage. 

Malcolm Tulip, the director, greatly oversteps when inviting the audience into the world of remote, provincial Russia. Tulip forces audience members to participate in some of the most gruesome moments of the show: this includes an actor gagging onto an audience member’s lap from alcohol consumption, and having a patron hold a mirror for a performer to look into as they perform a staged death by suicide. Irresponsible is the only word that comes to mind. Audience members can’t consent in the dark, and to thrust unsuspecting patrons into distressing scenes without their prior agreement isn’t what they paid for; it’s highly unethical and dangerous.

The offense that takes the cake, however, is the interpretation of the Judge. Not only does the actor don a fat suit, but they use it to its full extent, making a mockery of fat people in a caricature-like fashion. The actor waddles onstage with hands cradling their belly, as if parodying pregnancy. As a plus-size person, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and think, “We’re fat, not pregnant.” Then, they top it off by taking a fall and flailing around like a pig in mud. This portrayal not only insults the audience with its blatant fatphobia, but also exacerbates its harm with tones of ableism. Such portrayals are far removed from entertainment, serving only to reinforce harmful stereotypes and degrade those of us who are simply living in our bodies.

What do we have to learn from old or outdated stories? Maybe, this is the wrong question. Instead, let’s ask who should we trust to direct these new interpretations? I would be remiss to place any blame for these offenses or missteps on any students involved. It’s not their fault. Faculty who hold a clear power dynamic over student artists are responsible to lead and uphold an ethical, safe, and responsible production. It’s obvious, in the case of The Government Inspector, that there was a failure to provide such leadership. The themes of corruption and folly in The Government Inspector might have contemporary resonance, but the execution here is tone-deaf.

However, to give credit where credit is due, Nicola Troschinetz and Stephanie Reuning-Scherer were hilarious and bubbly in their twin roles as Dobchinsky and Bobchinsky, Ellie Van Engen successfully cements the proposed idea of satire through her costume design, and the ensemble, while lacking relevance and stage time, sure can sing a tune. While the production manages to deliver moments that are both shocking and undeniably funny, these are often overshadowed by its more problematic elements.

You’ll definitely find yourself laughing during The Government Inspector, but at what cost? $16 for students? $25 regular price? Or at the expense of others?

REVIEW: Sasha Velour in the Big Reveal Live Show

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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

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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.