There were moments during Friday's performance of the Prenzie Players' Doctor Faustus in which I was creeped out, but with a fascination that had me begging for more. Director Jake Walker, sound designer Elizabeth Spoerl, and lighting designer Tyson Danner create effectively ominous scenes, particularly those involving chanting or whispering from behind the black curtains surrounding the audience, or red light pouring forth from an opening in that cloth wall. Chills ran up my spine, goosebumps rose along my legs and arms, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up multiple times - all signs of a thrilling production.
Playwright J.C. Luxton's writing has a beautiful eloquence about it, with poetic word choices and graceful rhythms in his verse. And while I did not understand all of the finer details in the Prenzie Players' Friday-night production of Luxton's Bear Girl - due solely to my own shortcomings when it comes to dialogue delivered in verse - the themes and main plot points were clearly told, and also, thanks to director Cait Bodenbender's treatment of the material, interesting, entertaining, and educational.
Before the production officially begins and without uttering a single word, Gini Atwell effectively sets the tone for the Prenzie Players' Antigone. On Friday evening, during the ad-libbed pre-show that's a staple of Prenzie productions, Atwell sat at the front of the stage, half-cradling her knees while wearing a far-off look in her eyes and a deep sadness on her face, as though lost in thought on woeful memories or circumstances.
The Prenzie Players' current production, Cyrano de Bergerac, is costumed in nothing but black and white. Yet that lack of visual variety counters the abundance of color in the performances of the cast, which add shades of nuance to what could be presented as cut-and-dried "good" and "bad" characters. The actors' portrayals make it possible for audiences to feel sorry for the villain, to fall for our hero's rival in love, and even, to some degree, to occasionally dislike the tale's namesake.
If you diagrammed the experience of the Riverbend Theatre Collective's As Bees in Honey Drown, it would look something like a roller coaster: There'd be an extended incline followed by a precipitous drop, several more inclines each followed by lesser drops, a few twists, and an eventual return to your point of origin. And as with a roller coaster, you might find yourself having a terrific time during Bees' ride, even if your enjoyment wears off quickly, and a few of its shakier moments give you a headache.






