REVIEW: Afro Soirée- The Performance

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On December 20, Kochoff Hall B at the James Renick University Center became the center of Detroit’s creative energy during Afro Soirée: The Performance. The event featured three local artists—Amara Jones, Devin Soul, and Zara Monet—in a three-hour celebration of music and storytelling. It was more than just a concert; it was a showcase of Detroit’s vibrant music scene. As someone who loves live music, I came excited to revisit a familiar favorite while discovering new voices.

Amara Jones was the main reason I attended. Last year, I was deeply moved by her solo concert, where songs like “Ebb and Flow” and “City Lights” left a lasting impression. Her ability to write music that connects with people’s emotions made me eager to hear her again. This time, the addition of two other artists promised an even richer experience.

The evening opened with Devin Soul, whose soulful music immediately drew in the audience. His songs, “Heartstrings” and “Wanderlust,” felt personal and raw, like he was sharing pieces of his life with us. His performance was emotional and heartfelt, though sometimes it felt a little too slow, making it hard to keep the energy going. Still, the crowd listened closely, showing how much his words and music resonated.

Zara Monet followed, bringing a whole new energy to the stage. Her music blended R&B, hip-hop, and electronic sounds, creating an exciting and modern vibe. Songs like “Neon Dreams” and “Gravity” got the audience moving, and her confidence on stage was magnetic. While her music was fun and energetic, it sometimes leaned too much on the production, which made it harder to connect with her lyrics. Even so, Zara’s bold and creative style stood out as a highlight of the night.

When Amara Jones finally took the stage, it felt like a homecoming. She performed both familiar favorites like “Ebb and Flow” and new songs like “Aurora,” showing how much she’s grown as an artist. Between songs, she shared stories that made the performance feel personal and special. At times, her delivery felt rehearsed, which took away a bit of the spontaneity, but her heartfelt connection with the audience made up for it. Amara’s performance was the emotional heart of the night, reminding everyone why live music is so powerful.

What made Afro Soirée truly special was its sense of community. Each artist brought something unique, but together they painted a beautiful picture of Detroit’s music scene. It wasn’t just about individual performances—it was about celebrating a shared love for creativity and connection.

As I walked out of Kochoff Hall B, I felt inspired. Afro Soirée: The Performance wasn’t perfect, but it captured the heart and soul of Detroit’s music. Revisiting Amara’s music while discovering Devin and Zara deepened my appreciation for the city’s talent.

REVIEW: Hypnotize Your Mind

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December nights have a way of making you crave something extraordinary, and walking into Kochoff Hall last Monday for “Hypnotize Your Mind” felt like just the thing I needed. The event featured the hypnotist Michael C. Anthony, a name that immediately piqued my curiosity. I’ve always been skeptical about hypnotism—was it just a gimmick or could it really pull you into another state of being? I couldn’t resist finding out for myself.

The room buzzed with anticipation, an energy that was both infectious and slightly nerve-wracking. I found a seat near the back, hoping to observe quietly. When Anthony stepped onto the stage, his presence was magnetic. His humor and charm felt like a warm invitation, putting the audience instantly at ease—myself included. His ability to establish rapport with a diverse audience demonstrated his seasoned expertise.

Then came the moment of truth: the call for volunteers. Hands shot up across the room, and I couldn’t help but admire the courage of those who stepped forward. Watching them walk to the stage, I felt a mix of envy and apprehension. What would it feel like to surrender “control” so completely? Anthony’s voice, steady and calming, worked its magic as he guided the volunteers into a trance-like state. Their faces softened, their expressions subtly shifting as if they’d crossed into another realm. It was an astonishing display of how suggestion and trust could shape perception.

Image By Zaynab Oozeer

What followed was a series of scenes that were as entertaining as they were surreal. Volunteers became actors in a spontaneous and unscripted play, dancing to music only they could hear or reacting to imagined scenarios with remarkable sincerity. Anthony’s timing and adaptability shone through as he orchestrated these moments, skillfully maintaining both humor and control. It was clear that this wasn’t just about the volunteers but about his ability to shape their actions into a cohesive performance.

One moment stood out: a volunteer, previously rather shy, suddenly danced like no one was watching. It was hilarious and oddly inspiring. Afterward, I spoke with them. “It’s hard to describe,” they said. “It felt like I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t question it. It was fun, honestly.” Their reaction underscored the deeply participatory and transformative nature of the performance.

While the humor and spectacle were undeniable, what impressed me most was Anthony’s ability to balance entertainment with genuine human connection. Hypnotism, in his hands, felt akin to improvisational theater, where the participants were both the medium and the message. His skill in reading people and crafting an engaging narrative revealed a depth of artistry that extended beyond mere showmanship.

That said, the show occasionally leaned into predictable tropes of hypnotism—the exaggerated reactions and clichéd scenarios that risked feeling repetitive. While these moments elicited laughter, I found myself wondering how the performance might evolve with more inventive or unconventional scenarios.

By the end of the night, my skepticism hadn’t completely disappeared, but it had shifted. Hypnotism might not fit neatly into a definition of art, but it’s undeniably compelling. It’s about trust, connection, and maybe even a little magic. Leaving Kochoff Hall, I couldn’t help but smile, grateful for the chance to see the human mind in a whole new light. Anthony’s performance left me pondering not just the nature of hypnotism, but the ways in which we all navigate suggestion and belief in our everyday lives.

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: Wicked

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Good news! Wicked, the film adaptation of the first act of the smash hit Broadway musical of the same name, is wonderful.

Directed by Jon M. Chu, Wicked is a prequel to The Wizard of Oz. Based generally off of the novel by Gregory Maguire (Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West; unlike the rest of involved properties, decidedly not PG), as well as the 1939 movie, Wicked centers around Elphaba (a standout performance by Cynthia Erivo), who will become the Wicked Witch of the West, and Glinda (Ariana Grande), who will become the Good Witch of the North.

Wicked is a movie-musical, and unapologetically so. The chorus is vast and excellent. The choreography (by Christopher Scott) ranges from crisp and upbeat to gentle and heartfelt; and, when it’s happening, there’s a good balance between close-up shots and larger crowd shots. All of the songs from the Broadway musical’s first act are included, though almost all have been expanded (one, in service of a fun, fan-service cameo, so much so that it essentially constitutes a new song). The sets and costuming are minimally CGI, vast, bright, and colorful. Like many musicals, the whole effect can be a bit campy, but it’s not garish, and it doesn’t shy away from darker aspects of its plot.

The movie opens in the “present day” of the Wizard of Oz, after Dorothy has killed the Wicked Witch. Glinda arrives in her bubble to a town in Munchkinland, whose residents are rejoicing that the Witch has just been killed (“No One Mourns the Wicked”). After a short flashback detailing Elphaba’s birth, Glinda confesses that she did, in fact, know the Witch: the two went to school together, at Shiz University.

Grande is at her weakest musically in her opening number: this is the most “legit” (pseudo-operatic) piece for Glinda, and Grande lacks the technique to pull it off. Her voice sounds overly thin and weak, particularly on the higher notes. Presumably to compensate, the autotune and sound editing, generally tasteful, are palpably stronger here. Grande does make a much better showing for herself in the rest of the film, though. Most of Glinda’s singing is more pop than classical, which Grande does with aplomb; her performance in “Popular,” an upbeat number in which Glinda decides to give Elphaba a makeover, more than makes up for “No One Mourns the Wicked.” Grande also has impeccable comedic timing, aided by her sidekicks Pfanee (Bowen Yang) and Shenshen (Bronwyn James), and her chemistry with Erivo is impeccable. Erivo is the stand-out here, with a wry, rich, nuanced portrayal and a glorious singing voice. Her “Defying Gravity,” which ends the film, is a show-stopper in more ways than one.

While there are darker political machinations happening in the background, the heart of the film is Glinda and Elphaba’s relationship, and its slow shift from enemies to friendship. It feels real, and it’s refreshingly imperfect. They hurt each other, but there’s a sweet and genuine core to it, which heightens the stakes when the two must eventually break apart to Good and Wicked.