Category: Theatre

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.

REVIEW: Plano

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November 16 | 7:00 pm | Newman Studio

 

 

It seems director Natalie Tell found the question of time most interesting in her multilayered senior thesis, Plano. What really is now? What is later?  Earlier? Suddenly? And where do our lives fit into a structured system of a concept that refuses to be contained? These questions were presented in her attuned director’s note in the program, but I found that more prominent themes of identity and male-induced panic rose to the surface onstage.

Plano lets us loose in a semi-mythical Texas in the home (or rather, on the porch) of three sisters, Anne (Maya McEntrye), Genevieve (Hannah Long), and Isabel (Audrey Andrews). They are haunted by strange physical things (like slugs, ribbons, ghosts) that all seem to tie back to the patriarchal influences of their unexplored past. Each sister has a different quandary with the primary man in her life: Anne quickly marries John (Joaquin Consuelos) after finding out she is pregnant, but he seems to be with her for the green card; Anne, is married to her less-than-superb husband, Steve (the hilariously erratic Rohan Maletira); and young Isabel finds herself in a relationship with God, but grapples with the presence of looming spirits.

The play establishes a fantastic “handshake” with the audience right out of the gate. The lights come up, and the sisters are having a fiery sharp conversation, darting through time when a character decides, “It’s later.” We discover John (whose real name is Juan) is gay and gallivants off to Plano (a seemingly mystical, metaphorical place) leaving Anne alone with her thoughts. Isabel is afflicted by two Faceless Ghosts who dwell uncomfortably near when she’s alone. When Genevieve and Steve ultimately divorce due to his infidelity, he splits in two (and eventually three) haunting Genevieve’s home and mind.

“A third Steve is making music in the garage. He won’t leave. And the other two Steves are really proud of him.” says Genevieve.

 

The eclectic universe Ms. Tell crafted was completely alive: props emerged seamlessly, Faceless Ghosts wandered around pre-show, and a bowl of hummus came out of the wall! The curse manifested itself in ways other than through the character’s words, it surrounded them. Ms. Tell’s creative design choices made the script’s (by the poignant Will Arbery) insistent metaphors in the script all the more playful.

 

The Faceless Ghosts pre-show.

Arbery’s book contains rich ramblings, which develop deep and relatable characters, blending humor with the uncanny. The play between reality and surrealism is intricate but such charming performances kept me fully engaged in attempting to unravel the timeline. The three sisters are distinct characters to me, each carrying a strange sense of familiarity. The clarity could stem from Arbery’s vocal inspiration from his seven sisters whom he grew up with in Dallas, Texas (a short distance from Plano, Texas).

 

Ms. McEntrye, Long, and Andrews are filled with endurance and are constantly thrilling. They relentlessly search for their identities while navigating life and facing the challenges of hegemonic authority from previously trusted men. Ms. Long’s performance was a personal favorite of mine, showcasing her quick wit and unveiled compassion. While their male counterparts can be mundanely loathsome in the world of Plano, the performances by Mr. Consuelos and Mr. Maletira were quirky and deliberate.

Though Ms. Tell’s director’s note emphasized her exploration of time in Plano, I found the most moving aspects of it were its relationship with the women fighting it. It’s difficult to truly grasp the metaphysical concept of time in this piece, as it (seemingly) is not linear, but it was effortless to feel for the strong women’s journey of discovery. To Ms. Tell’s point, time is something we’re always aware of, and these characters certainly are too.

“We’re a tiny part of a tiny thing that never ends…” Anne says.

 

 

 

Plano runs November 15-16 in the Newman Studio. Images thanks to @umichdesignandproduction on Instagram.

REVIEW: Murder on the Orient Express

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Before I saw Rude Mechanicals’ production of “Murder on the Orient Express,” I had no idea what to expect. Somehow, despite the source material by Agatha Christie being so iconic, neither the plot nor the ending had been spoiled for me.

Going in, I had no preconceived notions of what this play should look like – and, like with all murder mysteries, I think that is the best way to do it. 

The play opens with a blinding blast of light from the stage, mimicking a train’s headlights, before diving into the show. Hercule Poirot (Ty Lam), a world-renowned Belgian detective, is traveling from Istanbul to London on the Orient Express, a train line owned by his friend, Monsieur Bouc (Fabian Rihl). Once aboard the train, a kooky cast of characters including the chic and dramatic Princess Dragomiroff (Bobby Currie) and the over-the-top Helen Hubbard (Olivia Sulisz) soon find themselves trapped when the Express gets stuck in a snowdrift.

Amidst the hubbub, a dead body is found with eight stab wounds. It’s Samuel Ratchett (Jax Coates)… or is it? Poirot is immediately on the case.

The Rude Mechanicals cast performs “Murder on the Orient Express” on November 8, 2024. Photo by Ellie Vice.

While the play is, at its core, a murder mystery, it is also a comedy. In the program, director Anderson Zoll says they “leaned into the humor and heightened theatricality” to give the show “a generous dose of camp.” And overall? I think they succeeded. 

As someone who didn’t know the plot before going in, it was a bit tough to follow at first because nearly every character has a different accent. A terribly tough task, to truck through the 100 minutes in an Irish, Russian or Swedish accent. But once the cast fell into stride, the show chugged along like a well-oiled machine. The Rude Mechanicals machine, perhaps. 

Part of what heightened the “campy” aspect of this production were the cheeky asides and musical transitions between some scenes. For instance, in one of the first scenes, a character remarks that Lam’s mustache “doesn’t even look real!” In response, Lam moves the open newspaper he is obviously hiding behind to give the audience a pointed look over the mustache that is, very obviously, fake. In one of the scene clearings, the ghost of Daisy Armstrong (Christine Chupailo) performs a beautiful ballet sequence; but in the context of the flippancy of everything else, it almost made me laugh. 

While the whole cast was great, Rihl, Currie and Sulisz stood out. With a healthy dose of physical comedy and almost-constant movement, Rihl really played into the stressed businessman who will do anything to keep his customers happy. Even when not speaking, Rihl’s reactions to other characters and their actions simply made so much sense; of course he would dust off the seats before someone sits down to be interrogated! Currie plays Princess Dragomiroff in drag, a choice that felt so natural it made me search whether the role was usually played in drag. And Sulisz, from using Michel the Conductor (Jaden Gonzalez) as a handrail to climb onto the train to singing show tunes to herself in a pink robe, drew some of the biggest laughs. The loud, dramatic American traveling solo, the character Sulisz played was both familiar and novel, and altogether magnetic.

Some of the more serious moments fell flat, but they were few and far between, and the play did wonders as a comedy. A good comedy immerses the audience in a world and lets them leave their worries at the door, if only for two hours. While the plot was interesting, it was ultimately the way the cast embraced their roles and “committed to the bit” that made it so enjoyable.

REVIEW: Twelfth Night

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

From October 10 to 13, the School of Music, Theatre, & Dance presented a musical adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. The witty script combined with the students’ incredible singing and dancing made it such an enjoyable experience that I ended up watching it twice. 

The performance took place in the Lydia Mendelssohn Theatre, which although a little small, is actually my favorite venue for musicals. The charming, comfortable velvet seats and the excellent acoustics ensure that every line and lyric is crystal clear. The actors also make creative use of the entire space by entering and exiting through aisles and side doors instead of always walking backstage, and this added interaction with the audience made the show feel all the more immersive. The set design for Illyria, a mythical city surrounded by water, was stunning: the intricate details of the staircase, balcony, and guardrails added realism, while the bright colors and decorations created a whimsical atmosphere.

The first musical number that stood out to me was “If You Were My Beloved,” performed by Viola, Olivia, and Orsino. Viola’s youthful, endearing voice accidentally captures Olivia’s heart, embodying the innocence and purity of the kind of love Olivia has been longing for. Olivia’s bright and powerful voice conveys the excitement of newfound love, radiating optimism and hope for her future romantic pursuits. Lastly, Orsino’s deep, charismatic voice reflects the depth of his persistent and long-held admiration for Olivia. Despite their conflicting interests while singing these lyrics, the trio harmonizes beautifully, hinting at the tangled and humorous love triangle filled with misunderstandings and unexpected twists.

Another memorable number was “Is This Not Love?” Feste’s soulful tone beautifully captured the yearning and frustration that come with being in love. This exasperation was further amplified through the choreography where Viola and Orsino would reach out for each other without ever fully connecting, underscoring the emotional distance between them. A particularly powerful moment featured Orsino spinning Viola in the air; despite their physical closeness, their emotions remained unspoken.

Funnily enough, it was “Count Malvolio” that left the deepest impression on me. I loved the playful costumes of the backup dancers that mirrored Malvolio’s outfit, and their addition allowed for a grand choreography filled with silly gestures that perfectly captured Malvolio’s ambitious dream of becoming a count. With its humorous lyrics and catchy chorus, I found myself singing it for days afterward.

Overall, each musical number was a joy to experience, and I left the theater excited to listen to them again. However, I found myself disappointed with the recordings I found online, since they lacked the vibrancy and emotional depth that made the live performances so special.

Watching the show from two different perspectives—the main floor the first time and the balcony the second—provided me with more ways to experience the performance. From the balcony, I could appreciate the full scope of the choreography, from the various formations to the synchronization. On the main floor, however, the experience felt more cinematic; the singing was more immersive and the actors’ facial expressions brought the romantic tension and developments to life. Honestly, if given the opportunity, I would happily go back to watch the musical a third time and re-experience the beauty of Illyria once more with SMTD.



REVIEW: Ulysses – Elevator Repair Service

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The Elevator Repair Service’s production of Ulysses feels more like a work of art than a play, passing almost like a blurred fever dream of text and desks and baby dolls. The company is known for Gatz, an eight-hour production during which the entirety of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby is read and performed. Ulysses, based around James Joyce’s notably lengthier novel of the same name, does something similar, though at a more moderate runtime (under three hours, including an intermission). In one of the few moments not pulled directly from the text, the audience is told in an opening explanation given by actor Scott Shepherd that all of the text will play on a teleprompter on the back of the auditorium. As far as I could tell from when I looked back during the performance, this is true, though it is impossible to see both the screen and the action on stage at the same time. However, not all of the text is spoken – various chunks are fast-forwarded through, a whiz playing over the speakers as the teleprompter speeds up and a digital clock in the background which tracks the time in the play spins on to the next moment. Sometimes, the text scrolls along the front of the desks the characters spend much of the play sitting behind; sometimes, the entirety of the stage, including the actors on it, are covered with the text, which occasionally overlaps itself like pages laid on top of one another. The latter is an especially visually striking effect, as the text layers over itself and subtly three-dimensional elements at the back of the stage.

Ulysses carries with it a peculiar sort of minimalism. There are only seven actors, but a great many more characters, so everybody ends up playing multiple roles. Vin Knight, playing Mr Deasy and Leopold Bloom (the latter being the main character of the novel), plays the fewest number of roles, with other actors playing between four and nine. Character shifts are indicated by small costuming shifts, particularly hats; Lenehan, for instance, played by both Maggie Hoffman and Christopher-Rashee Stevenson, is indicated by a blue cap. The play starts out in an office, and so the blazers reasonably worn by characters in such a setting provide one more element to remove or add to indicate character shifts. There’s a lack of extravagance to the changes, though – though the actors act in different ways, the fact that there has been intentionally little effort made to distinguish their characters from one another makes it impossible to forget that this is a work being put on by seven people, playing different characters. The whole thing feels self-aware of its status as a play, and of its status as a sort of staged reading of a novel. There are stage lights upstage, above-stage, and peeking out of the wings, and they’re always visible. At one point, Shepherd breaks out of the text to warn the audience in an aside that things are going to become somewhat more confusing (there was laughter in the audience at this). Remnants of earlier scenes – bits of paper, crumbs, office supplies – linger behind after they’re gone. Somehow, this all adds to the sense of surrealism which surrounds the piece until it comes to a head around the middle of the second act. During this portion, among other things, Bloom is seen giving birth (most of the babies are successfully caught; they are all summarily placed in a bucket; one is wearing a Michigan shirt), and a character sees the ghost of their mother. The play grows more and more manic, before beginning a decrescendo into more calm realism. It ends with an extended soliloquy by Bloom’s wife, Molly (Maggie Hoffman, delivering said monologue with aplomb). As with the rest of the play, it is taken directly from the original novel.