28
Jul
2014
Every so often, Genesius Guild's end-of-summer comedy isn't the traditionally silly, over-the-top production that mostly forsakes a story-driven plot. Such is the case with this year's comedic romp Plutus. During Saturday's take on Aristophanes' original text, I found myself as interested in the outcomes of the characters as I did in director/adapter Don Wooten's mockery of local icons and current events. Sometimes more so.
The Richmond Hill Barn Theatre's The Mousetrap is a reasonably entertaining presentation of author Agatha Christie's material. There were plenty of good laughs during Thursday's performance, and director Gary Clark and his cast did well in not giving away what's known as "the best kept secret in theatre" until its final reveal - that secret being the identity of a London murderer who is now, very likely, among the guests in the newly opened Monkswell Manor boarding house.
It's always a pleasure to be able to laud the chorus members of a production, and that's certainly appropriate for Genesius Guild's presentation of Shakespeare's Coriolanus; the crowd scenes involving the Roman citizens - a group made up of 15 actors - are some of the most dynamic moments in co-directors Bryan Woods' and Don Wooten's production. Usually seen angrily protesting something, there's a palpable energy in these performers' collective presence as the group storms the stage and creates a general hubbub in the background, adding more realism than would be on display had they merely stood in place and interjected occasional comments. Stirring things up beginning with the opening scene, and appearing multiple times throughout the course of the play, this charismatic group sets the stage for what proves to be an entertaining evening.
Euripides' Alcestis marks the first Genesius Guild production of a Greek tragedy I've seen without doing advance research on the play's plot, which I usually do out of fear of being lost. I'm happy to say, though, that I did not get lost in the slightest during Saturday's performance, thanks to the production's clear plot points and dialogue, ample projection from the actors speaking from behind sound-inhibiting masks, and the comfortable flow of Dori Foster's direction. The play is interesting in its exploration of fate, and also entertaining by way of costumer Ellen Dixon's simple yet elegant designs (particularly for the women in the chorus), Earl Strupp's aesthetically pleasing masks (with their glittery colors and wisps of escaped locks of hair), and the cast's earnest characterizations.
The Richmond Hill Barn Theatre's Death of a Salesman marks one of James Driscoll's most powerful, effective, fully realized performances to date, which is saying a lot given the actor's résumé, which includes roles such as Long John Silver in the Playcrafters Barn Theatre's Treasure Island and his multiple characters in last year's Anton in Show Business for New Ground Theatre. During Friday's presentation, I was awed by Driscoll's ability to shift from sanity to a mental confusion bordering on insanity as his Willy Loman transitioned from his vision of his past to a moment in the present. Driscoll accomplishes this both through physical gestures, such as rubbing his head as if sweating, and vocal inflection, as his voice becomes more frantic and emotional during his state of confusion.
With its themes of loneliness, reality, death, the meaning (and absurdity) of life, and the search for self, playwright Samuel Beckett's tragicomedy Waiting for Godot is considered, by some, to be the most significant English-language play of the 20th Century. Frankly, though, I didn't search for meaning in the script during Thursday night's Godot performance at the Harrison Hilltop Theatre, as I was too busy being entertained, to the point of loud laughter, by the captivating oddity of the dialogue and performances.
Genesius Guild
As I watched Friday's performance of Any Number Can Die at the Playcrafters Barn Theatre, I tried to remember that there was (probably) a time when Fred Carmichael's script was considered hilarious. As a spoof of murder mysteries of the 1920s, this 1965 work may originally have been fresh, poking fun at the plays that audiences were used to seeing. Now, though, with so many comedies poking fun at murder-mystery clichés - and with one seemingly presented each year by Playcrafters - the jokes at the expense of the clichés have themselves become cliché. Still, Carmichael's script and Playcrafters' production of it are amusing enough to make the show at least tolerable.
Genesius Guild's season-ender opens with a visual gag so wonderfully surprising that I wouldn't dream of describing it, and closes with a slapstick chase so wonderfully goofy that I couldn't describe it if I wanted to.
A preface for those at Sunday's Genesius Guild presentation of The Comedy of Errors: You know that horribly rude woman who talked, and talked loudly, on her cell phone through the first two minutes of the play, even after repeated shushings and one verbal request to shut the hell up? I sat three rows behind her.
