Becca Bartley

‘Wit’ in Westfield: Facing a ‘very tough’ end

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By John Lyle Belden

In ‘Wit,’ the Pulitzer-winning drama by Margaret Edson, presented by Main Street Productions in Westfield, it’s not a big spoiler to say that our central character, Vivian Bearing, Ph.D, dies at the end of aggressive stage-four ovarian cancer.

Vivian (Beverly Roche) confides as much when she enters the stage as her own narrator. Feeling the play’s run-time, she condenses the necessary flashbacks and eight months of experimental chemotherapy into having less than two hours to live. In her friendly engagement with us across the fourth wall, it feels initially like a one-woman play that happens to have several supporting actors – however, we also gain a sense of their own feelings on their endless struggle against the forces of death.

Dr. Bearing is not a medical doctor, but a renowned professor of literature, weaving her career-long study of the works of 16th century English poet John Donne (sonnets include “Death be not Proud”) into the narrative of her final days, grasping for the wit she saw in his approach to life and mortality. We see a pivotal moment of her as a college student of Donne expert E.M. Ashford (Susan Hill), engaging her attention to detail that would make Vivian notorious as a teacher herself.

“You have cancer,” Harvey Kelekian, M.D., (Mark Kamish) says frankly – which she appreciates. Being advanced stage four (there is no “stage five”), he sets up what turns out to be a brutal course of chemotherapy, telling Vivian he needs her “to be very tough.” She agrees and, somehow, will see it all through, bringing us all along.

We meet medical staff with contrasting approaches to her treatment: Dr. Kelekian’s research fellow, Dr. Jason Posner (Connor Phelan), who seems more interested in the cancerous cells than the woman they inhabit, and Nurse Susie Monahan (Becca Bartley) whose humanity and empathy become increasingly valuable as they work through the coming ordeal. 

Other roles are played smartly by Eric Bowman, Leah Hoover, MaryAnne Mathews, and Teresa Otis Skelton.

The play is directed with compassionate detail by Eric Bryant and Becky Schlomann. Bryant said he had proposed directing the play to MSP, then felt grateful when circumstances allowed him to add a co-director for a woman’s perspective. Their easy cooperation is reflected throughout the ensemble, who were encouraged in preparation to reflect on their own experiences with loved ones dying and/or working through cancer.

The background work included assistance from dramaturg Brooke Conti, Ph.D., of Cleveland, for her expertise on Donne; clinical consultant Glenn Dobbs, who aside from his involvement in local theatre is a retired OB/GYN; and intimacy director Lola LaVacious, considering the very personal and invasive nature of the disease and treatment.

“People always talk to us about the production (after a performance),” Schlomann said, but with this show, they “bring up their own stories, they find a personal connection.”

As Vivian, Roche makes that sense of kinship feel natural, as both a fascinating lecturer and an engaging guide. Her disease has cracked the professor’s cynical shell, allowing us to see the soul – with its stubborn wit – within.

Hill, whose professor has a more tempered approach to the Poet, gives us a wise mentor who bookends Vivian’s journey with a touching penultimate scene. Bartley’s Susie kindly and heroically reminds us that there is more to good medicine than doctorate-level knowledge.

Phelan’s Dr. Posner seems at times aloof, practically on the neurodivergent spectrum, but maintains his own complexity with his devotion to research and fascination with the “immortal” nature of cancer cells. Perhaps there is also a discomfort with mortality that informs his clinical distance from his very mortal patient.

This play, even with its own sense of wit among the serious goings-on, can be challenging to watch – especially if you have had any experience with the events portrayed – but it is well worth the effort to experience.

Speaking of which, it won’t be easy to reach the Westfield Basile Playhouse, 220 N. Union St., due to highway construction downtown. We found our way by driving the streets that lead to Westfield High School, then turning south on Union. Consult a maps app for alternate routes.

Performances of “Wit” are Thursday through Sunday, June 5-8. Get tickets at westfieldplayhouse.org.

Getting in our ‘Steps’

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By John Lyle Belden

In a bizarre coincidence that Alfred Hitchcock would find delightful, this last weekend saw two openings of the British thriller-turned-farce, “The 39 Steps,” adapted by Patrick Barlow from a four-hand comedy by Simon Corble and Nobby Dimon, heavily based on Hitchcock’s 1935 film of the same name, based somewhat on the 1915 novel by John Buchan.

The movie is notable for helping establish the drama film tropes of man-on-the-run and the potential comedy goldmine of two people who don’t get along being chained to each other. The more interesting scenes and twists? Hitch’s idea.

As noted, there are two productions spaced about three counties apart. Hyperion Players presents its “39 Steps” at the Switch Theatre in Fishers. Meanwhile, Eclipse Productions plays its version in Waldron Auditorium in downtown Bloomington.

The plot (for both): In the 1930s, Richard Hannay, a Canadian living in London, seeks diversion in a music hall featuring a performance by Mister Memory, during which he encounters a woman who ends up back at his flat (oh!), then mysteriously stabbed in the back (ugh!). She had warned Hannay of some international spy intrigue, and her death convinces him to go to Scotland – while London police seek him for the woman’s murder – to figure out what’s happening, including the identity of The Thirty-Nine Steps. On the way, he dodges a police patrol by kissing a woman on the train, who responds by turning him in to his pursuers. As luck will have it, she will later encounter him again, and again betray him. Mayhem follows Hannay up to the Highland moors and eventually back down to London for the climactic showdown that could clear his name and save England (at least for a few years).   

The Barlow script amps up the inherent humor of its Hitchcockian quirks and is staged with improvised props and four actors: one to play Hannay, one to be the women he encounters, and a couple of “Clowns” who play all the other roles.

The Hyperion production does this play silly; the Eclipse production does it weird. Both do it excellently.

In Fishers, Hyperion Players emphasizes the master of suspense. The script does have nods to other Hitchcock films, but here we also get a “Frenzy” of references in the curtain speech. Also, there are a few birds around the stage (crows, I believe, which counts as attempted “murder”).

Josh Elicker plays Hannay appropriately amused and bewildered by all the bizarre goings-on. Sarah Eberhardt is the leading lady, employing comically outrageous accents as German Annabel Schmidt and Scottish Margaret, contrasted with the more natural manner of Pamela (the woman on the train).  The Clowns are frenetically and effectively played by Becca Bartley and Ryan Moskalick, who makes a brilliant Mister Memory. Evangeline Bouw directs.

The set, designed by Beth Fike, looks like a stage with random pieces upon it like it’s between shows. The players make good use of items including a door frame, a piece of wall with a window, and a single comfy armchair. The plot moves along earnestly following the beats of the film, but in a manner showing they don’t take themselves too seriously. The result is like a spy-thriller sitcom.

Down in Bloomington, Eclipse (no relation to the summer student company in Indy) emphasizes the Clown aspect of the production. In fact, in a nod to theatre traditions including commedia dell’arte, we have one regular actor, Konnor Graber as our dashing Hannay, dealing with a small troupe of traditional costume-and-makeup clowns: Shayna Survil (the leading ladies), Steve Scott, Vera Wagler, and Jada Buehler. Having three rather than two “Clown” players makes for creative division of roles, including Mister Memory simultaneously presented by Wagler and Buehler, working almost like conjoined twins adorned in classic Tragedy and Comedy masks.

Speaking of which, assistant director Jeremy J. Weber invites all in attendance to put on one of the provided masks (yours to keep) to help immerse yourself in the goings-on. Director Kate Weber and the company arranged the seating surrounding a central area (suggesting a circus) where most of the action takes place. Gags and props are exaggerated, and a fight scene becomes like a professional bout with Survil walking the perimeter with a Ring Girl’s sign. The wild goings-on and sharply executed physical comedy almost overshadow the story’s plot. Still, this unique experience is worth the drive down to B-town.

So try one – or both! – of “The 39 Steps.”

Hyperion’s plays Thursday through Saturday at The Switch Theatre (Ji-Eun Lee Music Academy) 10029 126th St., Fishers. Tickets at hyperionplayers.com.

Eclipse’s plays Thursday through Sunday at Waldron Auditorium, 122 S. Walnut St., Bloomington. Tickets at eclipseproductionscompany.com.

‘Lost’ in Simon’s wartime family drama

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By John Lyle Belden

You see a dozen shows by Neil Simon, you think you’d know what to expect – the farce of Rumors; or goofy relationships of The Odd Couple; or sweet (and a bit bitter) memories of Brighton Beach; or hilarious razor wit of Goodbye Girl.

For those unfamiliar with “Lost in Yonkers,” Simon’s 1990 Pulitzer-winning play presented by Main Street Productions in Westfield, note that many of his comedies’ hallmarks are present, but with a dark edge that is too real to completely laugh away. With the sharp rap of Grandma’s cane, wisecracks cease. The exaggerated aspects of characters come not in caricature but from coping with lifelong trauma.

In 1942 (America’s first full year in World War II) Eddie Kurnitz (Matt McKee) has to settle debts from his wife’s fatal battle with cancer, so takes a traveling job gathering scrap metal for the War effort. Thus he leaves his sons, 15 “and a half” Jay (Drake Lockwood) and 13 “and a half” Arty (Finley Eyers) with his mother in Yonkers (just outside New York City). Grandma Kurnitz (Lisa Warner Lowe), who escaped from Germany years ago to raise Eddie and his siblings in as strict and unsentimental a manner as possible to prepare them for what she sees as an unrelentless cruel world, is unpleased with his plan, but tolerates it at the request of Bella (Becca Bartley), her daughter whose ever-diverting mind stays in a childlike state.

Grandma owns and runs the candy store on the first floor of their building, which ironically becomes hell for the boys who find themselves penalized for every morsel that goes missing, whether it was their doing or not.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s brother Louie (Thom Johnson) shows up, with a wary eye out the window. He’s a bag man for shady characters who now want what he’s secreted in the bag. Gangsters being cool to teen boys, as well as the desire for cash to get his father out of debt and back home, Jay and Arty try to win his favor.

We also meet Aunt Gert (Maggie Meier), who has an unintentionally comical respiratory issue, when Bella gathers the family for what could be a momentous announcement if she can string the thoughts together.

Dark comedy derives a lot of chuckles from situational humor, and Simon serves that well here, but we are more drawn in by the layered drama of a family whose dysfunction runs deep, apt for one of the most stressful eras for any American. There is a method to the matriarch’s cruelty, and grudging admission of benefit, but it’s still difficult to justify. The damage is plain in every one of Grandma’s offspring, but especially Bella, as Bartley gives a brilliantly endearing and heartbreaking performance. Lowe, for her part, delivers both the cold exterior and fire within that keeps Grandma both feared and respected, with fleeting moments of wry German humor that keep us all off-balance. With Uncle Louie, Johnson maintains an air of Cagney-cool with just a touch of paranoia in knowing his gangland adventure ain’t a movie. Lockwood and Eyers keep the youths as smart-alecky and immature as you’d expect, but, as kids do, learning to adapt to their situation.

Jen Otterman directs, with assistance from stage manager Monya Wolf. The comfy but no-frills living-room set is by Ian Marshall-Fisher.

Get “Lost in Yonkers” this Thursday through Sunday, Feb. 14-18, at Basile Wesfield Playhouse, 220 N. Union St., Westfield. For an extra treat, concessions include versions of “Kurnitz Kandies” with proceeds benefiting MSP’s scholarship program. Get tickets and information at WestfieldPlayhouse.org.

‘Somewhat True,’ definitely entertaining

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By John Lyle Belden

“The Somewhat True Tale of Robin Hood,” by Mary Lynn Dobson, is a perfect play for teen and tween actors, and Main Street Productions does it proud on their Westfield stage.

Historians can tie themselves in knots trying to figure out who the “real” English folk hero was, but that absolutely does not matter here. From the title onward, we are treated to something like the atmosphere of a Muppet film, or Monty Python, or a sort of G-rated “Deadpool.” Essentially, they are in a story, and know it, are just fine with it, and as things progress, they take advantage of it.

I’m tempted to call this “the Yeater brothers strike again.” It is upon Owen that is cast the enormous responsibility – and ego – of being Robin, “a great character of literature,” he reminds us. To strike the karmic balance, slightly younger bro Quinn is the conniving Sheriff of Nottingham. (Big brother Mason is stage manager, their little brother was in the audience.)

For true “Boo, Hiss” evil (we are encouraged to shout along), there is Harrison Coon as dastardly Prince John, sharply performing like a demented Benedict Cumberbatch. On the noble side of the coin, there is our Lady Marian, Rachel Bush, fortunately talented enough to avoid being upstaged by her scream queen Lady in Waiting, Ella Crites.

Robin manages a band of Merry Men (of any gender), manically played by Maile Alpizar, Nora Gapinski Coon, Sammy Geis, Neil Hackman, Isabella Hasseld, Kaavya Jethava, Owen Lockert, Anna Pfeiffer, and scene-stealing Zach Harvey as (actually little) Little John – all armed with spoons (I’m guessing an homage to the Costner film?). They are co-led by Sister Tuck, Kaelyn Harvey, armed (naturally) with a ruler.

Hackman and Pfeiffer also play guards at Prince John’s Court, which is attended by a trio of highly entertaining Fawning Ladies: Chaya Flicker, Tatum Meadors and Sophia Musick.

As for the story, you likely already know it – except maybe the part about bowling, and the essential role of the Town’s Guy (Teddy Epstein), our narrator and the characters’ link to the all-important Miss Technical Director (Megan Mramor, according to the Crew list).

Also, you can tell it’s Medieval England because the footwear is all by Sir Chuck Taylor (those are the rules, I guess).

Directed by Nikki Lynch and Becca Bartley, saying this is delightful seems to sell this show short, but it truly is a hilarious delight to see kids taking history and “great literature” on such a fun ride, complete with cheeky “you get that?” after-school special moments.

As I post this, there is a matinee today (July 30), as well as performances Aug. 3-6 at the Basile Westfield Playhouse, 220 N. Union St., downtown Westfield. For info and tickets, see westfieldplayhouse.org.  

Laughter and tears in Belfry’s ‘Crimes’

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By John Lyle Belden

The Pulitzer Prize-winning comic drama “Crimes of the Heart” by Beth Henley takes on a special resonance in these times of heightened awareness of mental health issues and violence against women.

The Belfry Theatre presents this play, directed by Jen Otterman, at the Theater at the Fort in Lawrence in all its dysfunctional glory. Taking place in a roughly 24-hour period in a small Mississippi town in 1974, we meet the Magrath sisters: Lenny (Brooke Hackman) is turning 30 but feels ancient; Meg (Sarah Eberhardt) apparently put her Hollywood singing career on hold to rush home; and Babe (Becca Bartley) is getting bailed out after shooting her abusive rich attorney and State Senator husband in the gut. Cousin Chick (Ka’Lena Cuevas) thinks she’s helping, but is mostly a judgmental pill.

Also on hand are family friend Doc Porter (Tanner Brunson), who isn’t actually a doctor (why will be revealed), and young lawyer Barnette Lloyd (Mickey Masterson) who takes up Babe’s case because he has a “personal vendetta” against her husband.

While I do recommend this play for its sharp script and excellent performances, I must acknowledge there should be a “Trigger Warning” as there is frank discussion of suicide and attempted acts of self-harm. In fact, if one were to observe this as an armchair psychologist, you could see a lot of disorders on display, especially the effects of narcissistic abuse by the sisters’ grandfather (offstage, but very much a character in this story).

And yet, this is also a comedy. The dark humor pops up in little bits here and there, such as Lenny’s “birthday cookie,” and bubbles over in gut-busting moments including one that involves a broom and another that is triggered by the phrase, “you’re too late.” For anyone who relates to tragic circumstances, it’s easy to see how “we shouldn’t laugh at this” only triggers another round of guffaws through cast and audience alike.

Hackman naturally portrays Lenny as a character you just want to put your arm around, maybe to gently shake some sense into. Eberhardt as Meg presents us with a fallen honky-tonk angel who surprises you with her depth of spirit, but who can’t help being that girl in need of rescue. As Babe, Bartley plays a woman who is 24 going on 15, her life decided for her in a way she never wanted, desperate for a way out. Brunson comes across as a strong good ole boy, but more than Doc’s injured leg hasn’t healed properly. Masterson presents Lloyd as the kind of perfect gentleman that makes one suspicious. Finally, as Chick, Cuevas is great as the kind of person who means well, but, well, bless her heart…

Complex and compelling, “Crimes of the Heart” runs through Sunday, May 7, at 8920 Otis Ave., Indianapolis. Info and tickets at thebelfrytheatre.com or artsforlawrence.org.

Bard Fest: Tragic Egyptian queen still fascinating

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By John Lyle Belden

Indy Bard Fest presents the Improbable Fiction Theatre Company production of “Antony and Cleopatra” – which, though I know that’s the way Shakespeare titled it, should give the doomed last Queen of Egypt first billing.

Already an incredible talent, Afton Shepard throws herself fully into her title role, portraying Cleopatra’s “infinite variety” of moods and mental states. But under her demeanor, ranging from stormy to sultry, burns a fierce intelligence. All this and more Mark Antony, well-portrayed by Darin Richart, sees, and dedicates himself to as they rule the Eastern third of the Roman Empire. But confict with fellow triumvir Caesar (the eventual Augustus, played by Thomas Sebald) is inevetable.

This production, directed by Ryan T. Shelton, pares down the cast and puts the focus more squarely on Cleopatra. Having ruled since she was a teen – and still showing fits of immaturity – she is also well traveled and educated. She knows a woman’s typical place in this world (much like ours, in a way) and is not afraid to use seductive charms to camoflauge her true wisdom.

Many characters are placed on the weary shoulders of Craig Kemp, who enters as the Soothsayer and appears as various messengers and soldiers as the story demands. The excellent cast includes Bobbi Bye as Caesar’s advisor Agrippa, Dana Lesh and Barb Weaver as Cleopatra’s servants Charmian and Iras, Duane Leatherman as third triumvir Lepidus, Jamie Devine as Caesar’s sister Octavia, Becca Bartley as Cleopatra’s guard Alexas, and Jet Terry as Antony’s faithful soldier Scarus. Kevin Caraher gets a meaty role in Enorbarbus, steadfast for Antony up to the point that he sees history turning and fearing himself on the wrong side, “when valor preys on reason.”

Gender-blind casting is nothing new in today’s theatre, but I liked that Caesar’s soldier Dolabella, played by Evangeline Bouw, seems to lend an element of feminine empathy in being the last Roman to guard Cleopatra at the end.

Scholars debate the fine points of even the original historical sources, but this powerful play gives a good sense of the era and the essence of the larger than life persons in it. We feel we have met Cleopatra and Antony, and it’s an honor.

Performances are Thursday, Saturday and Sunday (Oct. 28, 30, 31) at The Cat Theater, 254 Veterans Way in downtown Carmel. Get info and tickets at indybardfest.com.