comedy

Catalyst’s ‘Starmites’ shine

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By John Lyle Belden

First a few disclaimers: Wendy and I are good friends with Casey Ross and adore everything she does. Furthermore, as little children John and Wendy watched ‘70s Saturday Morning cartoons and enjoyed the trippy creations of Sid & Marty Krofft; also, John’s favorite movies include the animated “Yellow Submarine” and the cheese-tastic 1980 flick “Flash Gordon.” For younger readers here, think the goofy fun of the live-action Power Rangers shows.

Where I am going with all this is to set your expectations for Ross’s lifelong passion project, the unlikely Broadway cult classic “Starmites,” which she has adapted with the blessing of its creators, Barry Keating and Stuart Ross (no relation). Designed and directed by Casey Ross, this Catalyst Repertory production is on the Basile stage of the IndyFringe Theatre through Oct. 14.

In our current world, twenty-ish girl-at-heart Eleanor (Jaelynn Keating [again, no relation]) is too attached to her comic book collection, especially the obscure 80’s sci-fi hero series “Starmites.” As she flips the pages of the Legend of Milady, just a dimension or two away the actual defenders of Innerspace sense that a beautiful young woman has picked up the “sacred texts.” Could she be the Milady foretold? They call out to her.

Eleanor hears voices, which convinces Mom (Damaris Burgin) she is right to have the comics slipped back into their protective sleeves and sold to the neighborhood bookshop. But as the girl puts her collection away, she is suddenly whisked away to Innerspace by the wicked Shak Graa (Paul Hansen).

Our villain wants the Milady prophesy fulfilled, as it will reveal his most sinister creation, the Cruelty, a (musical) instrument of torture. Not believing any of this is happening, Eleanor evades him and encounters Spacepunk (Joseph Massingale), leader of the Starmites – gadget tech Ack Ack (Bradley Allen Lowe), goofy Razzledolf (Noah Nordman) and suave Harrison (Matthew Blandford). Faced with painfully naïve boys in men’s bodies who are stuck (since their comic was cancelled in 1994), she decides that either this is somehow real, or at least the best way out of this “delusion” is through it, agreeing to join their quest to find the Cruelty ahead of Shak Graa. They are led by the lizard Trink (puppet design by Timothy Taylor), who says in a darkly familiar voice he’s seen the dread instrument in Banshee Castle – the one place the Starmites dare not go.

The castle is occupied by the man-eating band of Shotzi (Addison Koehler), Balbraka (Yolanda Valdiva), Maligna (Jessica Hawkins), and Banshee Boy (Brant Hughes), led by their dread Diva (Burgin). The way they read the texts, a true Princess must marry to reveal the Cruelty, which means Diva’s daughter Bizarbara (Keating) can wed a Starmite before having the whole squad for dinner (as the main course).

So there you have it, the Hero’s Journey slash Fairy Tale slash ahead-of-its-time Female Empowerment done with catchy tunes, fun dancing, a healthy dose of humor, and low-budget aesthetic – in its context, a delightfully entertaining feast for the inner child in all of us. Inspired by the books of the Comics Code Authority era, beyond a little middle-school innuendo this is an all-ages show – the rare Casey Ross production without a single F-bomb.

Troupers that they are, the cast commit to this otherworldliness, especially Hansen, delivering an over-the-top villain with a wild smile and manic evil laugh, as well as literally puppeting Trink from the shadows that seem to follow our heroes around. Massengale manages to project his leading-man persona through the colorful wig and immature – though willing to learn – worldview, like a noble flightless Peter Pan. Starmites and Banshees alike also put their all into this. Keating’s character(s) may or may not be the prophesied heroine, but she is very much the star of this show. Her songs are limited, making her powerhouse voice especially stand out. Fortunately, they include a duet with Burgin, whose soulful voice is her superpower.

As some original music was lost, music director Billy Sharfenberger helped with arrangements; he leads the stage-right band of Caleb Hamilton, Graham Bethal and Travis Zinck. Kathy Hoefgen is stage manager (aided by Hughes).

Granted, this is not your typical musical, or familiar material, but we earnestly feel this is worth taking the chance. Step into Innerspace and the experience that is “Starmites.” Find the stage at 719 E. St. Clair St., Indianapolis; tickets at indyfringe.org.

BCP presents charming ‘Memoirs’

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By John Lyle Belden

The legendary Neil Simon’s semi-autobiographical “Eugene plays” hearken to a nostalgia for a time that came before our time, yet feels familiar. The comedy “Brighton Beach Memoirs,” now on stage at Buck Creek Players, adds the tensions of Jewish life in the 1930s and the issues of being a teenager in any era.

Eugene Morris Jerome (Dylan Acquaviva), our 14-year-old narrator, obviously didn’t make the Yankees later in life, as he fervently wished, because otherwise he wouldn’t become a writer and we wouldn’t have this story. This is one of many frustrations that he details in this surprisingly dramatic look at two important days in his young life.

The Jerome house, headed by overworked father Jack (Jeremy Tuterow) and ever-worried mother Kate (Barb Weaver) has made room for her widowed sister Blanche (Letitia Clemons) and nieces Laurie (Quincy Carman) and 16-year-old Nora (Brooke Dennis), whose physical development Eugene can’t help but notice. With the girls in one upstairs bedroom, Eugene bunks with his older brother Stanley (Tallon Wynne) in the other.

The family members’ good nature and guarded optimism are their bulwark against the otherwise crushing stresses of their lives – money always short, young people acting impulsive, the spectre of various diseases (one of which claimed Blanche’s husband years ago), and the constant news from Europe in the papers as well as letters from family facing oppression as the Nazis expand their influence. Thus we both laugh and feel their pain, sometimes simultaneously, as only Simon can make us do.

Acquaviva balances his naïve nature with growing maturity to come off as a rather likable scamp. Wynne and Dennis deliver the complexity of putting up brave fronts while never sure if they are doing the right thing. Carman gets to play spoiled without being too bratty. Clemons has Blanche appear to enjoy a comfortable place in the household, yet her simmering guilt at imposing on the Jeromes never lets her fully relax. Weaver gives us a Mom whose love language is constant complaining, while Tuterow makes Jack a lower-middle class Atlas, shouldering the world as best he can with a wry smile on his tired face.

The director is Jim LaMonte, who also designed the nicely functional set with Tuterow. Chris Becker is stage manager. Also appreciated is Adrienne Reiswerg’s help as dramaturg and advisor on details of Jewish life.

A hilarious and heartwarming story, “Brighton Beach Memoirs” runs through Oct. 8 at the Buck Creek Playhouse, 11150 Southeastern Ave., Indianapolis (Acton Road exit off I-74). Get tickets and info at BuckCreekPlayers.com.

‘Sweeney’ stalks Westfield

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By John Lyle Belden

The spooky season has begun, and it’s not just the change in the weather.

Main Street Productions presents “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street” at the Basile Westfield Playhouse. With other local stagings in recent years, the popular film version, and today’s buzz about the Broadway revival with Josh Groban, most folks know this assures a ghoulish good time.

Inspired by 19th-century British “penny dreadfuls” with book by Hugh Wheeler and songs by Stephen Sondheim, attend the tale: Todd (Mike Lipphardt), who had been wrongly “transported” on a prison ship, returns to London to seek his revenge on Judge Turpin (John Parks Whitaker). He arrives with the wistful young sailor Anthony Hope (Nate Moore), who had saved Todd’s life at sea. Sweeney finds at his former home a shop where Mrs. Lovett (Claire Slaven) sells “the Worst Pies in London.” He learns his wife had taken poison and the Judge took his daughter Johanna (Lizzie Schultz) as ward. Coincidentally, Anthony finds Johanna at her balcony and seeks to woo her. Turpin’s will, and local law, are enforced by The Beadle Bamford (Bailey Hunt).

After eliminating the competition, Señor Pirelli (Chris Ritchie), Sweeney opens his barber service just above the pie shop where Lovett’s cooking suddenly gets a whole lot better. In the process, she takes on Pirelli’s former assistant Tobias (Alex Bast) as her own.

In addition, there’s a pesky Beggar Woman (Tessa Gibbons) about. Also, from the dozen-member chorus, Aidan Morris takes the brief role of madhouse-keeper Jonas Fogg.

Some would say the star of the show is the infamous barber chair in which Todd dispatches his victims. I was informed this one was reconditioned from use in the Footlite Musicals production. However, Jay Ganz and Mason Odle designed and built a splendid set around it.

Directed by Andrea Odle, Lipphardt gives us a nearly perfect presentation of Mr. Todd – undying grudge, creepy vocal tone, powerful singing, dead-eyed stare, and all. Slaven wickedly matches him as the ever-plotting Lovett. To the other extreme, Moore and Schultz are ever charming. Bast, in one of the more complex roles, turns in an excellent performance as well.

Perhaps the most interesting was Hunt’s cartoonishly odd Beadle. With his eccentric style and strutting walk, he looks like he escaped from a British “Panto,” yet somehow fits right in this setting. Likewise, Gibbons puts a little more effort than expected in her role, to great effect.

Perhaps the best scene is the entire cast’s enactment of Lovett’s fantasy during “By the Sea,” a surreal bit worthy of some award on its own.

Musical director is Laura Hicks. Dwayne Lewis is stage manager.

Little pies (not meat, though) are sold as souvenir refreshments before and during the show. Greet autumn with this macabre classic, with performances Thursday through Sunday (Sept. 28-Oct. 1) at 220 N. Union St., downtown Westfield. Get info and tickets at westfieldplayhouse.org.

Footlite: Say ‘Hello’ to a familiar show

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By John Lyle Belden

There’s a good chance that nearly everyone who reads this has seen at least one version of “Hello, Dolly!”

If you haven’t, there is a dandy production at Footlite Musicals through Oct. 8. If you have, this is still worth your while, especially with Georgeanna Teipen firmly in charge as master matchmaker Mrs. Dolly Levi.

Directed by Kayvon and Erin Emtiaz, this classic musical (book by Michael Stewart, music and lyrics by Jerry Herman) takes us back to New York around the turn of the 20th century, when a dollar could get you a modest night on the town. We meet the widow Dolly at the peak of her powers, arranging a match for “half-a-million-aire” Horace Vandergelder (Darrin Gowan) of Yonkers. She also needs to arrange nuptials between Horace’s emotional niece Ermengarde (Lindsey Schaecher) and the young artist Ambrose Kemper (Thomas Zotz), over her uncle’s objections.

For Dolly to corner Horace for herself, she needs an alternative for Mrs. Irene Molloy (Heather Hansen), which fate provides in the persons of Vandergelder’s wayward employees Cornelius Hackl (Joseph Burke) and Barnaby Tucker (Cordale Hankins). At Molloy’s hat shop, Irene and her assistant Minnie Fay (Bailey Rae Harmon) meet the young men in a most bizarre fashion.

All this leads to everybody – as well as Dan Miller as the charming Ernestina Money – at dinner in the Harmonia Gardens restaurant, complete with the big production number this show is famous for, with Jerry Beasley as the head waiter.

The production goes big with 18 additional human actors in the chorus, plus Sully Emtiaz making his doggy debut. The big orchestra, conducted by Jill Stewart, takes up much of the backstage, allowing the pit to be completely covered for more room to dance.

Set design by Mary “ML” Lich includes a clever split-level stage that helps with Cornelius and Barnaby needing to be in the basement of Vandergelder’s Feed Store, and (literally) adds dimension to other scenes.

Wrangling all this is stage manager Melissa Yurechko.

Teipen and Gowan are stage veterans at the top of their game. Hansen and Harmon are up to the task as well, exhibiting a charm more streetwise than sophisticated, making their pairing with the Yonkers lads believable. Burke is impressive as the likable rube on his first day in the big city. Hankins is a glorious bundle of naïve energy.

From cheerful beginning to happy ending, “Dolly” makes for a nice evening (or Sunday afternoon) of theatre. Performances run through Oct. 8 at 1847 N. Alabama St., Indianapolis. Get info and tickets at Footlite.org.

Couples collide in Belfry farce

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By John Lyle Belden

Oh, the things we could get away with in the days before cell phones and social media – or at least thought we could get away with.

Belfry Theatre presents “How the Other Half Loves,” the American version of a popular British farce by Alan Ayckbourn. In this play, we are presented with two couples in decaying marriages. In fact, one of the husbands is in an affair with the other’s wife. When pressed for an alibi, the guilty individuals name a boring couple they barely know, who then get entangled in the ensuing mess.

The production is also a study in contrasts. The Fosters, Frank (Tim Long) and Fiona (Susan Hill) are wealthy, while the home of Frank’s employee Bob Phillips (Ronan Marra Sr.) and his wife Terri (Sarah Froehlke) is more modest and cluttered with items from caring for their baby Benjamin (sound effect and bundle in a “portapram”). These homes are presented simultaneously, with both sets of living room furniture present, and the walls sectioned for a lenticular effect. Kudos to director Nicole Amsler and set designer and builder Julia French for the excellent stage, with perfect spacing and visual cues to help pull off the desired effect.

Set in 1972, the story begins on a Thursday morning, after both Bob and Fiona had been out until the wee hours – with each other. To cover, Bob tells Terri he spent the night reassuring William Detweiler (Ken Kingshill) who suspects his wife is having an affair. In turn, Fiona tells Frank she was out reassuring Mary Detweiler (Lisa Warner) who suspects her husband is having an affair.

These stories are soon tested as Frank announces that William is joining Bob’s work team and that the Detweilers are coming over for dinner that night. Meanwhile, Terri arranges for a dinner with the couple on Friday (to “help” and to give the harried homebound mom more adults to talk to). Thus Ayckbourn’s script gets particularly inventive, as the two intimate dinner parties at two locations on two nights are presented simultaneously, involving a couple of rather bewildered Detweilers.

This is going to be one wild weekend.

Long gives us an interesting character in Frank, who comes off as a bit scatterbrained (almost worrisome at times) but eventually picking up on the clues – though not necessarily the right ones. Hill’s Fiona is detached and jaded, yet entertaining in her own acerbic way. Marra’s Bob is a cad – sorta likable, but still an ass – the kind of person who gets away with little, yet more than he should. It helps that Froehlke has amiable but frustrated Terri keep at least a degree of love and grace for him, even when he’s at his worst. Kingshill and Warner present an eccentric introverted couple whose relationship seems to have reddish flags of its own, but are well suited to each other.

The outfits they all wear are appropriate to the period, especially Froehlke’s, which could only be described as “groovy.” Compliments to costumer Sue Kuehnhold. Desiree Black is stage manager.

Constant comic confusion and mild slapstick generate laughs throughout, though seeing this work of a prior generation from the perspective of today’s awareness of disorders and dysfunctional relationships did temper my response. There’s even a brief bit of angry violence. This is very much an artifact of its time, the kind of wacky show you’d see after watching “Laugh-In.” Taken in that context, this time capsule works splendidly.

Performances run through Sunday, Oct. 1, at Arts for Lawrence’s Theater at the Fort, 8920 Otis Ave. For info and tickets visit thebelfrytheatre.com or artsforlawrence.org.

Mud Creek comedy sparking conversation

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By John Lyle Belden

Whatever we find engulfed in destruction – be it a relationship, family, organization, government, nation, or even the world – there is always the question that arises: How did it get this far? Now, in the mirror of hindsight, we see the signs missed, so many of them obvious. And you are positive that if so confronted, you would act better. Right?

Mud Creek Players presents, “The Arsonists,” a translation by satirist Alistair Beaton of the 1950s dark absurdist comedy by Swiss writer Max Frisch, directed by Connor Phelan.

Mr. Biedermann (Collin Moore), a good, honest man who made his modest fortune selling useless hair tonic, is indignant at the news in the paper that somehow various nice houses in the town keep burning down, their owners realizing too late it was the strangers – serial arsonists – who had asked for a place to sleep. “They should all hang,” he says of the firebugs, noting he would never be so easily taken in. His wife Babette (Judy McGroarty) bids him be calm, as this affects her nerves, too. Sharply professional maid Anna (Brittany Michelle Davis) says there is a man at the door.

Thinking it’s about his heretofore faithful employee, Knechtling, whom he had let go, he orders her to send him off. But, she says, it is a stranger. This is different, he realizes, not a matter of business but of manners – a stranger at the door can’t be sent away offended.

Enter Joe Schmitz (Nathan Terhune), a burly man who earnestly states he is a former wrestler from the circus (that burned down) he worked at after a hard life as an orphan. He just needs a little time inside, out of the rain. And a drink would be nice. And maybe some cheese…

Reassuring Biedermann that, of course, he’s not an arsonist – why even suspect such a thing? – Joe sleeps in the attic. A day later, they are joined by Billy Eisenring (Eric Dixon), Joe’s friend and past head waiter at the local restaurant (that burned down). Surely there’s room for him as well, and a few items…

Somebody should see where this is going; fortunately, we have the Chorus, a/k/a the local Fire Brigade. The Superintendent, our Chorus Leader (Katie Brownlee) leads the warning call, between cigarettes (apt in 1953, but adding irony today). The Firefighters – Christopher Moore, Cyrena Knight, Kelly Keller, Ameetha Widdershins, and Malcolm Marshall – join in the cries of woe.

Widdershins cameos as Mrs. Knechtling, and Marshall also plays the “very far-sighted” Doctor of Philosophy, giving his observations of the goings-on.

Given its style and ever-weighty content, this play gives a lot for audiences to take in. But it is well worth the effort, making us laugh and think in equal measure. The cast perfectly play it with nary a wink towards the audience at the growing absurdity that requires no fantasy elements and hardly any sleight of hand. Terhune and Dixon’s “houseguests” give a master class in manipulation and preying on one’s good will. Moore makes Biedermann’s slide into delusion tragically believable.

This occurs in a beautifully detailed set by Michelle Moore, who, with Chris Bundy, arranged set decoration and props. Alaina Moore was assistant director. Stage managers are Cathy Ewbank and Kathy Jacobs.

Frisch at first presented this story as a radio play, the Swiss audience believing it to be a warning against Communism. His perspective was wider, having visited Germany in the 1930s and seeing how his Jewish girlfriend was treated. Decades later, we are invited to consider its metaphors in greater scale.

Anybody got a light?

Performances of “The Arsonists” are Aug. 18-20 and 25-26 at Mud Creek Players, 9740 E. 86th St., Indianapolis. The 2:30 p.m. Sunday performance (Aug. 20) includes a talkback, “Burning Questions,” after the show. For information and tickets, visit mudcreekplayers.org.

Sweet ‘Sordid’ comedy at BCP

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By John Lyle Belden

The 1990s were a quaint time, weren’t they? Of course, it wasn’t so nice if you were a “ho-mo-sex-y’all” in Texas – or if your good Christian mother’s love affair gets discovered in the worst possible way.

Welcome to the steamy world of “Sordid Lives,” the classic comedy by Del Shores, presented by Buck Creek Players.

Ty (Kyler Casbon) has a lot to say to his therapist. Despite being a working actor in New York, he’s still in the process of coming out as gay, and feels he has to “butch up” to survive a return to his Texas hometown for his grandmother’s funeral.

The deceased, Peggy Ingram, passed in an accident during a tryst with a married man, G.W. Nethercott (Josh Rooks), who is left wracked with guilt – over the death, but not the adultery. Peggy’s sister, Sissy (Elizabeth Ruddell) is trying to hold it together and make the arrangements between nicotine cravings. G.W.’s wife Noleta (Lea Ellingwood) is furious, but not at Peggy.

Peggy’s daughters, Latrelle (Cathy Cutshall) and Lavonda (Letitia Clemons) are adults, but not very mature. Latrelle, who is Ty’s mother, deals with situations through denial, Lavonda copes with liquor and sarcasm. At the neighborhood bar, G.W. commiserates with local good ol’ boys the Owens brothers, Odell (Jeremy Tuterow) and Wardell (Logan Laflin).

Meanwhile, Peggy’s son, Brother Boy (Thomas Turner), languishes in the mental hospital where he was placed years ago for being gay and dressing up as country legends like Kitty Wells. Today he is a living tribute to Tammy Wynette, much to the chagrin of Dr. Eve Bollinger (Renee Lopez), who really, really, wants to “cure” him so she can get rich off her resulting book deal.

With all these elements in place, it’s truly going to be one wild, hilarious episode of Lone Star lunacy.

There are wonderful performances all around, including Cutshall’s battles with harsh reality, Rooks’ blubbering repentance, Laflin’s wild change of heart, and Lopez’s over-the-top misguided doctor. And Turner cannot be praised enough for his wonderful turn, ladylike enough to want to help his “recovery” but savvy enough to know when it’s time for a country girl to stand for herself.

This delight is directed by Ben Jones, who opts for a recorded Bitsy, the local country singer whose songs set up the scenes. Nothing feels “missing,” though, fitting Jones’ goal of a simple, easy to relate to vision of family love and acceptance. Mary Miller is stage manager.

One weekend remains of “Sordid Lives,” with performances Friday through Sunday, Aug. 11-13 at 11150 Southeastern Ave. (Acton Road exit off I-74), Indianapolis. Get info and tickets at buckcreekplayers.com.

Intimate look at classic ‘Murder’

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By John Lyle Belden

As the saying goes, the axle of a railroad car evolved from an old Roman chariot, so as for generations we moved from city to city on narrow but comfortable boxes, things still might feel a little close.

Especially when there’s a dead body in the next car.

When Carmel Community Players found themselves staging the traditionally large production of “Murder on the Orient Express” in the intimate confines of The Cat, director Lori Raffel opted not to re-invent the on-stage railroad. “Why not?” she mused, understanding that theatre-goers know how the magic works. Indeed, seeing cast members and stage managers Samantha Kelly and Chloe Vann transform the sleeper cars to the lounge car (which doubles as a fine Istanbul restaurant) in half-light doesn’t hurt the show one bit, perhaps even aiding the flow as we don’t just stare at a curtain between scenes.

And, as noted, you are never far from the action, especially in the Cat’s up-front love seats (first-come for patrons). This way you never miss a clue, or a punchline in this Ken Ludwig script approved by the Agatha Christie estate.

Please, if you know the solution to this mystery, don’t tell! But if you don’t, relax, it was a difficult case for Christie’s famed Belgian detective Hercule Poirot (Larry Adams), and the resolution has surprised and delighted whodunit fans for decades. Again, if you do know – shh! – and enjoy how it plays out with the wit of Ludwig in Christie’s world, presented by this talented local cast.

In 1934, Monsieur Bouc (Earl Campbell) is rightly proud to be in charge of the famed Orient Express (an actual legendary line that ran the length of Europe) and to host Poirot on an unusually crowded journey to France. However, while a snowstorm halts the train in the mountains of Yugoslavia (around Croatia today), the very shady Samuel Ratchett (Tim Latimer) is found dead in his cabin.

Until the snow clears and police arrive from Zagreb, it is up to Poirot to solve this expansive closed-door mystery. Whodunit? Considering it is revealed that Ratchett was a man who literally got away with murder, there is motive, and plenty of suspects. Was it the English woman and Scottish soldier (Olivia Carrier and Jeffrey Stratford) who have been quite secretive? Or the wealthy Russian Princess in exile (Cathie Morgan) or her Swedish missionary nurse (Nicole Sherlock)? Or the loud new-money American (Vickie Phipps)? Or the former nurse turned Hungarian Countess (Viviana Quiñones Fabre)? Or yet, Ratchett’s personal secretary (Jonathan Young)? Conductor Michel (Mohamed Armin) has his own puzzle as others claim to see a mysterious someone in a jacket just like his.

Performances are solid all around, especially Adams’ command of the proceedings as the famed Belgian. Phipps has a ball as the stereotypical obnoxious American. It is impressive how this all-volunteer community cast commit to and hold on to their various spoken accents, especially Stratford’s thick brogue.

Remaining departures for “Murder on the Orient Express” are Thursday through Sunday at The Cat, 254 Veterans Way, downtown Carmel. For info and tickets, visit carmelplayers.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.  

Fonseca: Play’s college gives bold lesson

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By John Lyle Belden

Founding father Thomas Jefferson’s proudest achievement was the 1819 founding of the University of Virginia, an institution of higher learning open to (if Wikipedia can be believed) “students from all social strata, based solely on ability.” It admitted its first woman in the 1890s, and the first Black student – after a lawsuit – in 1950. Of course, it’s widely known now that Jefferson was an Enlightenment thinker who opposed the slave trade, yet owned hundreds of people of color himself, including Sally Hemmings, who – with little choice in the matter – was his mistress with whom he fathered a few children (who essentially got nothing from his estate).

In “tj loves sally 4 ever” by James Ijames, presented by Fonseca Theatre Company, directed by Josiah McCruiston, we step to the 200-year-old walls of Commonwealth of Virginia University (next stop over in the theatre multiverse from UVA, not to be confused with Virginia Commonwealth, a totally different college). It was founded by Founding Fathers and, until recently, honored them with statues that have been removed. On the stage set by Kristopher D. Steege, the monuments literally leave their shadow on the school. There is an appropriately diverse student body, with a Black Greek scene and hip-hop at the Homecoming events, but there are tensions. So many tensions.

Our guide (the fourth wall is very thin) and central character is Sally (Chandra Lynch). You can guess at the last name – but this is “now,” not back then, if it matters. She is furthering her studies as a research assistant to dean Thomas Jefferson (Eric Bryant) – not “that” one from ages ago, just a descendant. To make this digestible in a 90-minute (no intermission) comic drama, we have the rest of the students represented by these souls: Harold (Atiyyah Radford), a student activist who is always right, in principle anyway; and Annette and Pam (Shandrea Funnye and Avery Elise), two Sisters of Beta Beta Epsilon who smile through gritted teeth as they give tours of campus buildings with names of past slaveholder and anti-integration families by day, and in the evenings Stomp the Yard and speak their minds. As scenes and discussions require some elaboration for the audience, Annete and Pam quietly slip in to offer “Footnotes.”

All this happens during a memorable Homecoming week where different views of history are on inevitable collision course – including a certain white man’s feelings for a young black woman in his employ.

In McCruiston’s hands, this production is a cautionary love note to academia, a reminder of what “getting woke” meant originally (the play premiered in early 2020): to awaken to past injustices, acknowledge them and move forward with respect for all, without attempting to gaslight those who know too well the painful past that it wasn’t “that bad.” A hoop skirt might look good on a Black body, but it hearkens to a time when that flesh was property. Issues of both race and sex get a hard look in this play.

Lynch seems to make Ijames’ words her own, giving depth of both feeling and understanding to the often odd goings-on. Radford goes from angry-young-man to shuck-and-jive comic with entertaining alacrity, but without yielding a gram of dignity (even when relieving himself on the wall). Funnye and Elise reminded me of cast members of HBO’s “A Black Lady Sketch Show” with sharp delivery of simultaneously comic and enlightening moments. As for Bryant, he holds his own as the guy who just assumes he understands race, but we see far more of his lily-whiteness than anyone needs to.

Funny and thought provoking – like practically every play at Fonseca, but it maintains the high standard – “tj loves sally 4 ever” runs through August 6 at 2508 W. Michigan St., Indianapolis. Get info and tickets at fonsecatheatre.org.