Month: March 2023

Constellation: Demands of faith and fame come ‘Fast’

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By Wendy Carson

Last week, as I was looking over my work calendar I noticed that Ramadan began. Not being Muslim, I was only vaguely aware of what this meant to the sports world as a whole or the NCAA basketball tournaments specifically. In “American Fast,” on stage in Bloomington, playwright Kareem Fahmy brings us the story of a brilliant young player who has to deal with the ins and outs of this juxtaposition.

This is the tale of Khady (Victoria Nassif), the star player on her college team and a key reason that they have made the NCAA Women’s Tournament. Her Coach (TayLar) feels that while she is an amazing talent, she doesn’t acknowledge the rest of the team’s contributions because she is entirely focused on herself. Boyfriend Gabe (Austin Michael Young), a star on the men’s team, tries to support her but she is so self-obsessed that his will is about to break. Then there is Khady’s mother, Suzan (Haneen Arafat Murphy), who became more devoted to her faith in the past year and insists that Ramadan fasting happen regardless of the tournament.

NOTE: for those not familiar with Ramadan, followers are not to have any food or drink (including water) during the daylight hours of the month-long celebration.

Nassif brings a passionate drive to Khady, showing the struggles of a young woman trying to find herself in life without alienating everyone around her. She gives the character actual flaws and edges just as any college-aged girl would have, yet manages to keep her identifiable if not sympathetic.

Murphy gives Suzan a fiercely protective mama-bear vibe while still keeping herself oblivious to exactly how far her daughter has strayed from her hardline faith. Murphy is able to keep Suzan loving and identifiable without the overbearing bent the character could have.

TayLar gives Coach all the qualities that the position demands. She is fair but just, inspiring but realistic, and just distant enough to allow Khady to stand or fall on her own terms yet compassionate enough to support her when she does.

Young shows Gabe as a true friend, yet becoming tired of being used both as Khady’s personal cheerleader and figurative punching bag. He brings great love and devotion to his role but also the strength to stand up for himself and find his own self-worth.

Director Reena Dutt gives us a new story to help us to gain more knowledge of other religious traditions. The fact that it centers around basketball can aid in Hoosiers’ ability to better identify with the story. Dutt keeps the narrative honest especially in a story that is all about the true costs of winning.

I must note that, going in, I had no idea what the show was about or why it had such an odd title. But “fast” has many meanings – speed, like the play of our young point guard; holding tightly to something; doing without, especially to show devotion. All these come into play during this unique drama. So don’t let the odd title dissuade you from experiencing this tale, a beautiful peek into a different side of people’s “hoop dreams.”

Presented by Constellation Stage & Screen, performances run through April 8 at the Ted Jones Playhouse (formerly home of Bloomington Playwrights Project, now part of Constellation), 107 W. 9th St. Get info and tickets at SeeConstellation.org.

Summit: Much revealed in women’s sacred space

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By John Lyle Belden

On a mountain in France, what appears to have been a Medieval monastery has been repurposed as a unique women’s retreat in “The Convent,” a play by Jessica Dickey given a full production by Summit Performance Indianapolis following a successful staged reading last summer, directed by Summit founder Lauren Briggeman.

Mother Abbess (Jolene Mentink Moffatt), founder and leader of the facility, had been a regular American wife and mother who gave up her ordinary life to seek God. Unsatisfied with religion organized in His name, she instead dedicated The Convent to Her spirit. Upon arrival, each seeker gives up modern clothing and conveniences (including the smartphone). She receives simple clothes, is expected to do the chores of centuries past, and must study to identify with her “Nomen,*” a historic female Christian Mystic.

British heiress Cora Dimlin (Carrie Ann Schlatter), assigned Catherine of Siena, has done many such retreats, and acts as The Convent’s number two. She arrived first, as did her friend Bertie (Chynna Fry), a naïve survivor of an isolated cult, assigned St. Clare of Assisi. Jill (Maria Argentina Souza) arrives next; she is at a crossroads in career and marriage, and assigned Teresa of Avila. Wilma (Miki Mathioudakis) is a nun who finds herself unable to pray; she is assigned St. Hildegard. Tina (Shawnte P. Gaston) is trying to change from seeking pleasure to seeking purpose; she gets Juliana of Norwich. Running in late, to past participants’ dismay, is brash bratty Patti (Dekyi Ronge), still holding her Nomen card for Mechtilde von Hackeborn that she received in a previous session.

Feel free to Google the Saints (none are fictional), however, we do get to learn a bit about them during the play.

As these women undergo their journey of self-discovery, they undertake various exercises (including physical). At mealtime prayer they express, “I want…,” starting with trivial things that pop into their heads, adding items until a true deep desire comes forth.

While each has to come to terms with what feelings and needs brought them to this place, the main struggle is between Mother Abbess and Patti, for reasons that soon become clear. Though their connection is easy to guess, Moffatt and Ronge excellently portray their fraught relationship. Fry gives us a charming girl who finds more than her spirit awakening, while Schlatter embodies the English ideal of stiff-upper-lip control, at least for as long as Dimlin holds out. Gaston does a good balance of portraying a woman acting like a “tourist” yet still open to the retreat’s purpose. Mathioudakis plays another strong character; she allows Wilma to shift paradigm without abandoning the person she vowed to be. Souza gives us Jill’s inner chaos that didn’t stop with a change in scenery.

No real sacrilege here, but still for mature audiences, “The Convent” is a fascinating and thought-provoking examination of the continuing struggle and need for women to define themselves in the worlds they live in. There are a number of laughs, a tear or two, and a few unexpected sacred visions.

Feel free to say, “I want” tickets – performances run through April 9 on the Basile Stage of the Phoenix Theatre Cultural Centre, 705 N. Illinois St., downtown Indianapolis. Info and tickets at PhoenixTheatre.org.

(*Ancient word for “name,” or perhaps reference to “gnomon,” the indicating part of a sundial.)   

Before the ‘bang:’ A visit with Van Gogh

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By John Lyle Belden

Welcome to the world of Vincent Van Gogh!

Our entry is via the path of “Exhausted Paint” by Justin Maxwell, a playwright and Associate Professor at the University of New Orleans (another world of French style and cool cafes), presented by MFA student Drew Stroud with tour producer and wife Carly Stroud, directed by Baton Rouge-based R’Myni Watson. The Strouds have brought this one-man performance to the IndyFringe Indy Eleven stage for a single weekend before taking it to Illinois in April.

The subtitle, “The Death of Van Gogh,” is a bit misleading. The troubled genius painter was presumably alone when shot in the chest by a small-caliber revolver. It wasn’t the bullet that killed him, but the ensuing infection, 30 hours later on July 29, 1890. This isn’t covered in-depth in the play, though we eventually see it coming. (Theories have abounded in the years since, from an apparent suicide attempt to accident and even murder, but look elsewhere to expound on that.)

However, we do meet him in his final years, 1888 in Arles, France, through the birth of the namesake nephew he would never meet, in January 1890, to the day he wanders off with the gun. Correction: Time travel isn’t real (sorry, Doctor Who fans) so we’re meeting him in 2023 on a cluttered stage with painting supplies, an easel, random objects and some sort of rotating drum. And here is Vincent, who admits he is more a pop culture object now, embodied for the moment by an actor who speaks bad French (“His Dutch is even worse,” Van Gogh quips) yet through this theatre graduate student with hair dyed the copper sheen of one of the famous self-portraits, he remarks on that two-year period, based on the numerous letters he wrote to his brother – the man who financially supported him, as only one of his multitude of paintings sold in his lifetime.

Since the artist is being channeled through an improv performer, and befitting a history of various unspecified mental disorders (he leaves that up to others to define, but admits syphilis as a factor isn’t out of the question), Vincent frequently spins the drum, which has numerous parchment words stuck to it. He then pulls one, and lets the prompt guide his next brief monologue, memory, action, or audience encounter. He drinks wine, he drinks turpentine (not recommended), he bandages his head (you probably know why), he offers a bite of his potato. He labors at the canvas in bold strokes, then shows you his whole world in an envelope. He is amused, he is troubled, he is in touch with God, he is lonely, he pursues the light, he finds color in darkness. Nature – the crow, the tree root, the very atmosphere – mocks him. Another hasty drink, and the drum spins again. Stroud noted after the show this structure is indeed random, helping make no two performances the same.

Despite attempting only one French phrase, our 21st-century man does an excellent job embodying the master, complete with tics of mental distraction that don’t sink to caricature, in a modern colloquial style – complete with a few F-bombs – that would befit an Impressionist genius who just appeared, a la “Bill and Ted,” in our lecture hall. Thus I highly recommend this to anyone, teenage an up, interested at all in the man, his life and work. Through this appropriately unconventional means, we gain surprising insight into his story, and what makes his paintings – which you could have picked up back in the day for a handful of francs – worth multiple millions of dollars today. (This irony is not lost on the spirit of Vincent, either!)

If you happen to catch this review as I post it, you have a couple more opportunities to see “Exhausted Paint” in Indianapolis, today and Sunday (March 25-26) at the IndyFringe building, 719 E. St. Clair St. Get tickets at indyfringe.org. Upcoming performances are in Jacksonville, Ill., April 13; Springfield, April 14-16; and Decatur, April 18. Get info at ExhaustedPaint.com.

Belfry presents literary classic of age of excess

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By John Lyle Belden

It has become common practice when staging a Greek or Shakespearean tragedy to place it in another time and place than its original setting – such as America in the “Roaring” 1920s. However, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel “The Great Gatsby” is already very much at home in that era, which gives heft to the Simon Levy stage adaptation, presented by Belfry Theatre at Theater at the Fort in Lawrence.

Directed by Andrea Odle, this production presents people caught up in the roar of jazz, fancy cars, bootleg booze, and easy money, oblivious to the fact it was all too good to last. If a sip of gin made everyone an outlaw, what other sins were fair game? And what if even the slickest con man had honest feelings?

Our narrator and guide through this gilded world, Nick Carraway (Troy Bridges), visits his cousin Daisy (Rachel Bush) and her husband Tom Buchanan (Mike Lipphardt) at their swank Long Island home. She introduces Nick to tennis star Jordan Baker (Tessa Gibbons) with hopes of matchmaking. 

Nick’s rental is next to the palatial estate of the mysterious Jay Gatsby (Samuel Smith), thrower of frequent wild parties. Upon meeting, Nick finds Gatsby is a fellow World War I veteran – a fact obscured by numerous rumors about his life and wealth – who had a past relationship with Daisy. The tangled web of characters includes Tom’s mistress Myrtle (Jessica Hawkins) and her unsuspecting husband George Wilson (Jackson Stollings), New York City socialites Chester (Zach Thompson) and Lucille McKee (Erin Chandler), and Gatsby’s business associate Meyer Wolfsheim (Nicholas Maudlin). Maudlin and Chandler also play a Policeman and witness to a tragic event in the second act.

Bridges ably plays Nick as one both fascinated and repulsed by the excesses around him. Smith presents Gatsby with a shrewd eye, likable even when you don’t quite trust him. Bush gives us a sweet young woman with everything but bravery. Gibbons, on the other hand, plays Jordan strong but addicted to the glamour of a life she feels she earned. Hawkins wins our sympathies as someone who didn’t get the breaks but keeps hoping to the point of delusion. Lipphardt manages an interesting but mildly detestable character living in a time and place where bigotry could get a person quite far in society. 

The play presents a fascinating insight and commentary on a past era that resonates so well with our own, when the lifestyle of excess is still splashed upon our screens and reported with the news. Perhaps the 2020s have a roar of their own. 

Remaining performances are 7:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday, 2 p.m. Saturday and Sunday, at 8920 Otis Ave. For info and tickets, see thebelfrytheatre.com and artsforlawrence.org.

IRT: Shakespeare’s wife has her say

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By Wendy Carson

The title of the play, “Shakespeare’s Will,” by Vern Thiessen, is a turn of phrase that would impress the Bard himself, not only a twisting of William Shakespeare and describing the document of his estate, but also alluding to the willful nature of the man and his wife, Anne Hathaway.

Speaking of language, words overused in popular speech have lost their impact, still I feel the only way to describe this amazing one-woman show, at the Indiana Repertory Theatre, is “tour-de-force.” Thiessen has written a script that sweeps us through “Bill” and Anne’s first meeting, courtship, marriage, their children, his career, and the aftermath of his death. This reveals Hathaway as a remarkable woman in her own right.

Tracy Arnold takes us on a 90-minute ride through Hathaway’s complicated relationship with her husband. While we are taught incessantly about Shakespeare, little is ever told to us about the woman he married. We know her name, the names of her children, and if we are lucky, the actual terms of the titular will.

The show begins as Anne returns home following her husband’s funeral. She is sad, rain-soaked, tired, and carrying a copy of Shakespeare’s will which she hesitates to read. She turns instead within and reminisces of her time spent with (and often without) him.

Arnold uses a bench, chair, shawl, and a spectacular bed as her props to whisk us away to numerous points in time she reenacts. While going at a whirlwind pace, you never feel any scene is rushed or too brief. The various other characters she inhabits throughout are extremely well crafted, especially Hathaway’s father.

Director Brenda DeVita keeps the narrative guided on Hathaway’s path within the greater story of her connection to Shakespeare. History fails to record the lives of women, so we are left with far too few verifiable facts to work with in their remembrance (a mere nine in this case, according to DeVita).

A unique experience, this show is tender, defiant, tragic, and challenging, yet beautifully enjoyable. Happily, IRT has scheduled Student Matinees of the show to help bring youth a new and more accessible side of the history they are learning.

Performances run through April 16 on the Upperstage of the IRT, 140 W. Washington St. in Downtown Indianapolis. For information and tickets, visit irtlive.com.

Entertaining ride on ‘Orient Express’

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By John Lyle Belden

There are two kinds of people who watch a production – film or stage – of the Agatha Christie mystery “Murder on the Orient Express.”

First, there are those who have never seen how it ends. If you encounter such a patron at the Booth Tarkington Civic Theatre production of the play, running through March 25, DO NOT TELL THEM WHODUNIT. Being one of the most famous and creative reveals in the genre, it’s best to be savored as it happens.

Then, there are the fans of stage, screen, or the original text, who know the answer and just enjoy the widely varied and wildly interesting cast of characters, all falling under the scrutiny of Christie’s eccentric Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot.

Penned by Ken Ludwig (at the request of the Christie estate), this “Murder on the Orient Express” more than satisfies both groups. The blizzard of clues – too many, in fact, Poirot notes – will keep newcomers guessing, and Ludwig’s comic touch ensures at least as many laughs as thrills.

Eric Reiberg is pitch-perfect as Poirot in, a credit to him and director John Michael Goodson, a fairly laid-back portrayal of the character. Rather than have an exaggerated look and personality, even his famous curled mustache is understated, letting the various suspects on board the train do the clowning. Still, his bearing, accent, and little quirks are true to character and exert the proper gravitas (in this story, the detective is already world famous).

To set up the play, we get some disturbing audio, as well as Poirot addressing the audience that what we see is a flashback to one of his most complex and troubling cases. With this, we open in Istanbul, Turkey, in 1934. Needing a quick ride across Europe, the detective travels the famed Orient Express, bound for Calais, France, as the honored guest of the director of the rail line, Monsieur Bouc (Rex Wolfley).  

Various men and women board, including a very cocky yet nervous American businessman, Samuel Ratchett (Lee Russell), who tries to hire Poirot to find out who sent him threatening letters. Offended by his rudeness, the detective refuses. But when, with the train halted by a snowdrift in what was then Yugoslavia, Ratchett lies dead of multiple stab wounds, Hercule Poirot finds himself on the case.

Aside from ever-patient conductor Michel (Ronald May) we have our suspects – in fun performances by Evangeline Bouw, Luke Faser, Lauren Frank, Susan Hill, Alexis Koshenina, Sherra Lasley, and Clay Mabbitt – who all have alibis. And what might the motive be? As Poirot peels back the layers of the mystery and discovers hidden identities, he can only come to one conclusion. Or, perhaps, two.

A script like this allows for going a little over the top, and Lasley is a hoot as our brash American who married into riches and belts into song. Bouw is sweetly memorable as a countess who happened to go to medical school. Hill is commanding as the Russian princess; Koshenina is retreating as a shy missionary. Mabbitt and Frank slyly arouse our suspicions even before their characters board – but we actually see where they are at the apparent time of the murder.

I’ll say no more. You need to see this for yourself, but tickets for this wild ride are selling fast.

The Orient Express was an actual rail line, but, alas, its last departure was in 2009. Next best thing is to see this version. Performances are in the appropriately intimate confines of The Studio Theater at the Center for the Performing Arts in downtown Carmel. For information and tickets, go to civictheatre.org or thecenterpresents.org.

Catalyst creates outstanding ‘Streetcar’

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By Wendy Carson and John Lyle Belden

With all of the winter weather we are having, it is satisfying to have Catalyst Repertory bring us a steamy trip to 1950s New Orleans with its imaginative production of Tennessee Williams’ “A Streetcar Named Desire.”

The first clue to the uniqueness of the show is the inventive set design of Nick Kilgore. He has basically cut apart the walls and rooms of an apartment house to make them easily flow into each other without losing each location’s identity. The actors enter, exit, and perform within the full 360 degrees of set as well as multiple levels available to them. With the size of the stage, you might think this is incredibly cramped, but it never feels claustrophobic. In fact, the layout causes a rare intimacy to occur between the troupe and audience, seated “in the round,” which makes the whole a more enjoyable evening. A couple of pieces – a bedroom vanity, a nearby bar piano – even extend into the audience space naturally. The concessions bar for patrons at intermission is even part of the set, suggesting a piece of nearby Bourbon Street.

For those unfamiliar with the tale: Fading Southern belle Blanche DuBois (Sara Castillo Dandurand) turns up on the shabby doorstep of her younger sister, Stella (Anna Himes) and Stella’s husband Stanley Kowalski (Ian McCabe). Blanche lives in a world of delusion she consistently concocts to keep her from realizing that she is desperate, alone, old, and without any other place to go. After months of living with her disdain and lying, Stanley is determined to send her packing.

This description, of course, doesn’t do justice to the genius of Williams’ drama, and in the practiced hands of director Casey Ross – herself an artisan of plot and dialogue – narrative richness and tension as thick as Louisiana humidity imbues the play from start to finish.  

Dandurand transforms into Blanche, wearing her pride like a fading flower, masking dysfunction with flirtatious charm so well it fools everyone – except Stanley. For his part, McCabe ably puts on Kowalski’s working-man swagger. He is devoted to Stella, but has issues (to put it mildly), complete with a low-simmering rage fed by a lifetime of being called a Pollack, among other things. Perhaps the fact he has to present a public mask helps him detect Blanche’s. The two circle each other throughout, like a pampered cat and a mangy dog, claws out, fangs in their smiles. Himes is also wonderful as a Stella who sees the good in Stanley, is eagerly the yin to his yang, and tries to be at peace with the fact her debutante days may be gone forever.

Making a stunning dramatic debut is Brian DeHeer as Mitch Mitchell, Stanley’s bowling and poker buddy who knew him since their WWII service together. Feeling lonely as he tends to his ailing mother, Mitch starts falling for Blanche – it won’t be a soft landing. 

In excellent support are Audrey Stonerock and Matt Kraft as neighbors Eunice and Steve Hubbell, as well as Tom Alvarez as poker buddy Pablo, Mitchell Wray as a boy who comes around, and Viviana Quinones as a local flower-seller. Alvarez’s partner in Magic Thread Cabaret (a co-producer), Dustin Klein, tickles the ivories at the corner piano, with old tunes and his new compositions to underscore the action. At the club microphone is the exquisite voice of Courtney Wiggins. David Mosedale and Wendy Brown complete the cast, mainly in the final scene.

For either those new to “Streetcar,” or Williams fanatics looking for something fresh, we cannot recommend this production enough. There are adult themes and herbal cigarettes (though perhaps the first-ever Ross-directed play without an F-bomb), yet if you can take the heat, you won’t regret the experience of this scorching masterpiece.

Performances run Fridays through Sundays, through March 19 at the IndyFringe Basile Theatre, 719 E. St. Clair, Indianapolis. For tickets, go to IndyFringe.org.

Embrace your inner ‘Betty’ at the District

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By John Lyle Belden

I always liked the name of Betty Rage Productions, picturing classic pin-up queen Bettie Page in a feminist fury. But from White to Rubble, there are many kinds of Betty, and we experience that variety in “Collective Rage: A Play in Five Betties,” by Jen Silverman, directed for Betty Rage by Kait Burch at the District Theatre.

With touchstones that include Shakespeare and The Vagina Monologues, in this story we meet five women named Betty who are searching, each in their own way, for something more meaningful.

Our first Betty (Tracy Herring) is very concerned about things in the news, very rich, very restless, very frustrated with her husband, and very rich. 

Betty No. 2 (Courtney McClure-Murray) doesn’t come first on this or any list – in fact, she’s realizing she apparently has no real friends at all, or does she? 

Betty three (Sarah Zimmerman) is street-smart and expanding her horizons. She just discovered “The Thee-ah-tah” by seeing a show that had summertime and a dream or something, and now wants to “devise a play.” 

Betty 4 (Jenni White) seems content to be constantly fixing her truck, but is starting to feel left out of things that involve the other Betties (especially one in particular).

The fifth Betty (Kallen Ruston) is out of rehab and in the gym she owns, helping others find their inner strength. Her present challenge: Betty 1.

Through odd dinner parties and unpredictable rehearsals, these five clash and meld in hilarious scenes. Through their unique personalities, we can see a little of ourselves in at least one Betty – even if we don’t have the same body parts.

Speaking of that, be prepared for a lot of discussions about sex, sexuality, queerness, and calling out the labial-vaginal area by its feline nickname. This is actually essential to the plot, especially when one Betty gets the courage to look at her pussy, and discovers a lion.

Each actor is a badass Betty on her own, as we’ve seen them all in various drama and comic ventures, and Burch has helped them to blend these talents in a way that makes sisterhood, or even becoming lovers, feel natural. I don’t like to pick favorites, but I think the one playing Betty was just awesome.

For a fun and unconventional story of self-discovery and empowerment, engage in “Collective Rage,” this Thursday through Sunday, March 9-12, at the District Theatre, 627 Massachusetts Ave., Indianapolis. Get tickets at indydistricttheatre.org.

Houston-inspired musical at Footlite

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By Wendy Carson         

 I’ll begin by noting that neither John nor myself have seen the movie, “The Bodyguard,” which is the source for the musical of the same name, now on stage at Footlite. That said, this review will focus solely on the merits of the stage show, and not be complicated by comparisons that film fans will make. I was told that there were a few changes made for the story flow, but those are for others to examine and recount.

The overall plot is basic: Obsessed fan threatens pop star and experienced bodyguard is hired to protect her. Add to this a few ambition issues and romantic subplots, and the whole thing could easily boil down to a cheesy “Hallmark Movie” – yet somehow it all works together quite well. I found myself actually charmed by the spectacle.

No matter your personal opinion of Whitney Houston, she had a fierce voice. With the majority of the songs presented being what might be considered personal anthems, the show’s success or failure heavily lands on the actress/singer playing her role. Fortunately, Angela Nichols-Manlove fills those shoes almost effortlessly. She fully brings out the headstrong sassiness of Houston’s character Rachel while still showing her vulnerable side.

RC Thorne gives the titular character the firm determination of the profession but manages to highlight the fear that drives him in this endeavor. He brings believable life to the hard-boiled exterior with a soft heart archetype.

JB Scoble as The Stalker was appropriately creepy. I was quite impressed with the choreography of his interactions with various characters during the scenes he shared. However, I never felt as though the script tried to adequately explain his motivation and backstory. This weakness of the source material aside, Scoble and director Bradley Allan Lowe made our mystery man appropriately menacing.

Young Cairo Graves as Rachel’s precocious son, Fletcher, is the breakout star of the show. His talent at not stealing every scene he is a part of (which he could quite easily do) was as impressive as his scope of abilities. He is a true triple-threat who we could see delighting us for many years to come.

Melissa Urquhart is also sharp as Rachel’s sister, Nicki, around whom much of the plot twists. Additionally, she provides a powerful voice on a couple of numbers.

At our performance, Lowe ably stepped in for a supporting actor Shalmon Radford, who fell ill. (Hopefully, Radford will return this weekend.) The cast also includes Sam Hill, Robert Dooley, Carolyn Lynch, and Miranda Nehrig. Backing singers and dancers were Anya Andrews, Damaris Burgin, Kaylee Johnson Bradley, Kendell Crenshaw, Azia Ellis-Singleton (Nicki understudy), Suzana Marmolejo (Rachel U/S), DeSean McLucas, Jada Radford, and Ryley Trottier.

Whether you are a fan of the movie, or of Whitney, or just want to see something different and upbeat, this is a show that will bring you laughs, possibly tears, and make you sing along in joy.

For “All the Man That I Need” (and other hits), see “The Bodyguard,” by Alexander Dinelaris (based on a screenplay by Lawrence Kasdan), playing through March 19 at Footlite Musicals, 1847 N. Alabama St., Indianapolis. Get tickets and info at Footlite.org.