Sunday, February 12, 2012

By Reviewed by C.S. Gilbert

'God of Carnage," the Broadway hit and multi-award winning play that opened at the Red Barn last week, is not easily capsulated in a few words -- but since it's a critic's job to do so, how about: Virginia Woolf meets the Marx Brothers?

"Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," Edward Albee's scathing drama of marital relationships gone vicious, could be grandmother of the structure and general theme of "Gods of Carnage" but it was the Marx Bros.' kind of slapstick comedy (hey, only Groucho was ever really mean) that earned most of the audience appreciation.

Laughs are not lacking in this show, although they often reflect the "ouch!" factor -- ever seen projectile vomiting on stage before? --and prompted mostly by the deft delivery of dialogue assigned to over-the-top characters portrayed by Mimi McDonald, George Murphy, Annie Miners and Bob Bowersox. Their timing, in particular, was perfect.

Brilliantly directed by Joy Hawkins, every one of these actors is flawless. Hawkins moves them around with blocking so good it's almost a cosmic dance. There is just one possible misstep, and that is casting. Only McDonald appears of an age realistically to have an 11-year-old child. Bowersox comes close and Murphy is certainly possible. (Some guys never know when to stop.) But Miners, whose acting is nothing less than superb, simply does not look like the mother of 11- and 9-year-olds. (Jodie Foster and Kate Winslet played the roles in the recent film, by the way.) Fortunately, as an ensemble, the actors are well enough matched to gloss over this discrepancy.

It's a story that involves two sets of parents who meet to resolve the embarrassing and increasingly complicated situation of a brief but violent confrontation between their 11-year-old sons -- a meeting that inexorably devolves into the verbal and emotional equivalent of a food fight.

If this scenario doesn't sound like it can capture an audience's attention for a no-intermission, 90-minute show, you're underestimating the skill of playwright (and novelist) Yasmina Reza, based in Paris, and the translator, Christopher Hampton, and even more the talents of our home-grown cast and crew.

Just at the time when the sniping among spouses becomes uncomfortable, director Hawkins makes sure all hell break loose. Ah, humor! Such delightful balm for the often searing realities of life.

In addition to the actors and the director, praise is due set designer RJ Conn, whose upscale living room rivals the best of the Red Barn's sets. He's also credited with lighting design. Carmen Rodriguez ably handled costumes and young Jack McDonald did the family proud as stage manager/master electrician.

Kudos to all.

"Dead Man's Cell Phone"

Rings Good and Loud

Reviewed by Terry Schmida

'In every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it." -- Charles Dickens, "A Tale of Two Cities."

Ever wonder what salacious secrets are contained within those around you, friends and strangers alike?

Of course you do.

So did Charles Dickens, which is why he's quoted in playwright Sarah Ruhl's opus "Dead Man's Cell Phone," now playing through Feb. 18 at Waterfront Playhouse. Dickens, however, never anticipated the mobile telephone, which is perhaps why Ruhl has taken it upon herself to give the Victorian writer's notion an intriguing, techno-savvy update. It's dialed up here with an able cast of accomplished actors from across the country; direction is by Stefani Sertich of New York City.

A somewhat generic, middle-aged female named "Jean" (played by the multi-talented Lela Elam) sits alone in a restaurant, minding her own business as she samples the lobster bisque. A couple of tables over, a cellphone begins to ring. Its owner, "Gordon," a mysterious man in an expensive suit (portrayed with verve by Brandon Beach) sits unmoving. A few minutes later the phone again signals a call; still Gordon refuses to answer.

Irritated now, Jean strolls over to investigate. To her horror, she discovers that Gordon is as dead as AT&T's reputation for providing quality coverage.

Rather than alerting the management, however, the stunned Jean makes a fateful decision: She answers Gordon's phone. Before long, Jean has taken possession of the device and is using it to take business-related messages for Gordon, discuss Gordon's funeral arrangements and make plans to meet up with Gordon's family; the deceased's irascible mother "Mrs. Gottlieb" (brought to life by righteous Robin Deck), his opportunist wife "Hermia" (Stephanie Yosen) and brother "Dwight," (also played by Brandon Beach), who are -- for the most part-- devastated by their loss.

The web grows yet more tangled as Jean finds love with the dweeby Dwight and makes a terrible discovery regarding the true nature of Gordon's business dealings -- which, according to Gordon, involve trading on "compassionate obfuscation" and contraband of dubious moral standing.

Along the way Gordon's phone grows to become a virtual appendage of Jean's own body. The heroine begins telling sweet white lies to Gordon's loved ones, fibs designed to protect them from painful truths but that ultimately serve only to further muddy the situation.

In the background, ubiquitously, lurks the mysterious "Other Woman" (vampishly played by sultry Shakti Assouline). She may be Gordon's lover, his business partner -- or both. She's certainly not to be trifled with either way, as Jean discovers during a bloody confrontation at the Johannesburg airport.

In the end we're treated to a surreal confluence of the characters' lives, an explanation for the death of Gordon and how it involved Jean's presence in the restaurant.

For anyone who's ever wondered what could possibly be so damned important that their annoying fellow theatergoers refuse to turn off their cell phones during a performance, here is cathartic sweet revenge.

This dead man's cell is still ringing in my ears.