[Editor's note: On February 3, Harrison Hilltop producers Tristan Tapscott and Chris Walljasper announced the cancellation of the remaining performances for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf.]
As much as I like theatre, three hours in a chair can be a bit too much for me. The Harrison Hilltop Theatre's recent production of Long Day's Journey Into Night felt long, but mainly because the show's script is populated with lengthy, repetitious monologues. Its current production, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, is roughly the same length, but doesn't have the same plodding feeling. Perhaps it's because almost every line in the play seems weighty yet unpretentious, with an overall pacing quick enough to both keep and force your attention, lest you miss a sharp-tongued phrase.
The more performances I see as a reviewer, the more I ponder and study stagecraft. With many productions, I take away a concept or idea as to what makes a performance good, whether at the individual level or for an entire production. With the Curtainbox Theatre Company's Fool for Love, it's a word: abandon.
Attending the theatre is typically a form of escapism, a chance to get lost in the magic of the staging and performances. And then there's Moon Over Buffalo, one of those shows that doesn't just let you escape into it, but lets you in on the antics of what's going on off stage. It's a show about actors and their messed up, dramatic lives.
Driving home from the Circa '21 Dinner Playhouse on Friday night, after seeing the opening performance of the musical Joseph & the Technicolor Dreamcoat, I asked my husband, "Can you honestly think of anyone who wouldn't like this show?" We couldn't. And I still can't. With its appealing confluence of technical effects, engaging storytelling, musical styles, memorable characters, and lessons in forgiveness, humility, and hope, even those grudging types who would rather be dressed in bologna and tossed into a shark tank than see a musical can find something in Joseph to laugh at, mull over, be inspired by, or appreciate on a sensory level.
The story's kind of lame and the songs are kind of blah. But all told, the Circa '21 Dinner Playhouse's family musical Frosty's Magic Hat is a winning, rambunctious treat, the sort of unapologetically silly good time that can cause adults to laugh with even greater vigor and frequency than their pre-teen chaperones.
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, the one-act play Barbara Robinson adapted from her beloved book, is set primarily in a church that stages a grade-school re-telling of the Nativity story - the exact same pageant, we're told, that the church puts on year after year after year. And after attending Friday night's hilarious, intensely charming production of Robinson's show, I, for one, would be totally on board with the Clinton Area Showboat Theatre opting to stage The Best Christmas Pageant Ever year after year after year, at least if director Jalayne Riewerts wouldn't mind making it an annual commitment.
In the Harrison Hilltop Theatre's current take on John Steinbeck's Of Mice & Men, actor Jim Seward plays the chatty, friendly ranch hand Candy, and at one point tells a story about his boss treating the workers to a gallon of whiskey for Christmas. It's a charming little reminiscence - Candy, in the terrifically ingratiating personage of Seward, giggles with delight at the memory - but it's also one that would probably be quickly forgotten if the scenes that followed didn't keep bringing it to mind.
Roughly 10 minutes before the Prenzie Players' presentation of The Winter's Tale gets underway, there's a brief, improvisational scene between the Bohemian king Polixenes (David Furness) and Prince Mamillius (Stephanie Moeller), the young son of the king and queen of Sicily.
No show that opens with 10 sharply dressed, great-looking, terrifically talented performers dancing a spirited tap number can be all that bad, which is a good thing for Holly Jolly Christmas, the musical revue currently playing at the Circa '21 Dinner Playhouse. Considering, however, that the production has no loftier purposes beyond entertaining crowds with familiar holiday tunes and spreading a little yuletide cheer, I think audiences could be easily forgiven for turning to their theatre-going companions after the curtain call and saying, "Well, that was nice... but what the hell was it?"
