drama

Gritty ‘Streetcar’ an immersive ride

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By John Lyle Belden

A relative newcomer to the Hoosier theatre scene, Eclipse Productions of Bloomington (no relation to the student company in Indy) presents its take on Tennessee Williams’s “A Streetcar Named Desire.” One of the founders, Konnor Graber, told us Eclipse’s shows “are going darker, grittier, and authentic.” This stage classic turned out to be the perfect vehicle, steered by director Kate Weber (another founder, along with Ashley Prather and Jeremy J. Weber).

Perhaps coincidentally running during Mental Health Awareness Month, the production focuses on the growing madness of Miss Blanche DuBois, an aging Southern Belle who lost both her family and their former plantation, Belle Reve, in Mississippi, and goes to her only living relative, sister Stella Kowalski, in a cozy working-class apartment in New Orleans’ French Quarter.

Actually, we meet Blanche (Dania Leova) before the play officially starts, as the lobby has transformed to the vistors’ parlor of a Louisiana mental hospital, not long after the unfortunate woman’s committal in 1947. She is quiet and literally restrained in her chair, while a nurse (Connie Shakalis) reads poems by Poe to keep her calm. We are entertained by a visiting singer (Jen Wells, who is also stage manager) accompanied by Noel Patrick Koontz on guitar.

The theatre doors open, and Blanche is wheeled in before we are allowed to enter and take our seats. Wells follows, her voice lilting “Dream a Little Dream” as she climbs through the audience. For a moment, Blanche is at the corner of the stage, perhaps wondering, how did it all come to this? A quick blackout, and we all proceed to find out.

Leova is exquisite as Blanche, charm laid on as thick as the region’s humidity. She has us believing her despite ourselves, never relenting as the center of attention, though we see her trustworthiness slowly erode. Graber is powerful as Stella’s husband, Stanley. Little effort is made to make the man likable, though he has a personal magnetism that keeps his friends and wife loyal. His is another study in untreated mental issues, a lifetime of class resentment and being called “pollack,” capped by service in World War II, leaving him with a constant undercurrent of rage, only abated when transformed into lustful attention to Stella (Shayna Survil), who is addicted to him like a drug. He practically snarls his lines, at or edging on a shout; every object he handles gets slammed somewhere; and sensing a fellow façade, he sees through Blanche from the start and never lets her forget it. Survil, for her part, is endearing as she struggles to stay the voice of reason, the mediator between her unstable housemates. Alas, she also has what would now be classed a trauma bond with her often abusive husband.

Shakalis and Benjamin Loudermilk are charming in their own way as neighbor/landlords Eunice and Steve Hubbell, in their stormy but loving relationship. Playing Stanley and Steve’s bowling and poker buddies are Koontz as Pablo and Jeremy Weber as Mitch, a single man living with his ailing mother, who takes a fancy to Blanche – a relationship she proceeds to toy with and exploit. Weber ably portrays both Mitch’s infatuation and his solid sense of honor.

The performance is accentuated by the growing intervention of Blanche’s intrusive mental static, music, and other noise provided by sound designer Joshua Lane. Kate Weber credits the combined efforts of her direction, Lane’s soundscape and lighting by Allie Mattox for the overall effect. We all become witness to Blanche’s ever-worsening state, snapped by a rash act that, with her at last speaking truth, no one believes – or wants to.

Bearing in mind appropriate trigger warnings, come aboard the “Streetcar” this Thursday through Sunday, May 16-19, at the Ted Jones Playhouse, 107 W. 9th St., Bloomington. Get info and tickets at eclipseproductionscompany.com.

ALT presents interesting ‘Case’

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By John Lyle Belden

The title is “A Case for the Existence of God,” but this is not an academic lecture. Playwright Samuel D. Hunter, who also wrote the drama “The Whale” and adapted its screenplay, seeks the Divine in unusual yet beautiful places, like Idaho.

In the American Lives Theatre production of “Case,” Eric Reiberg and Eric Thompson play Ryan and Keith, two Twin Falls residents with little in common, except for a specific melancholy.

Keith is a mortgage broker, and Ryan desperately wants to acquire acreage that used to belong to his grandparents. They met at a daycare, each dropping off a daughter to which he has tenuous claim. Most of the play takes place in an office cubicle where Ryan’s iffy credit tests Keith’s talents and patience in securing a loan. In a series of smash-cut scenes over the course of the 90-minute play, we see their relationship develop. They understand little of each other at first, yet simultaneously something deeper. From this we get awkward humor, sparks as issues arise, some unintended bonding, and perhaps a path to the title proposition.

Each actor effectively presents his character’s individual quirks and struggle. Ryan dreams and wants, but has trouble with action and follow-through, often hinting at an undiagnosed mental issue that invisibly disables him. Reiberg plays him with wide-eyed earnestness, the kind of guy you want to root for despite obvious risk.

Keith carries the understandable shoulder-chip of the “queer black boy” who grew up in small-town Idaho, but strives to toe the line, doing the right thing in a job where the numbers always add up, following the rules to fulfil his dream of a family – despite the capricious whims of real life. Thompson plays him with dogged optimism, though it seems no good deed goes unpunished.

Directed by Andrew Kramer, the play presents an interesting and engaging portrait of unlikely friendship, with struggles that challenge and evolve the idea of what it is to be a man in today’s America.

However, does it prove the Case? That is up to the viewer. Performances are Fridays through Sundays through April 28 at the Phoenix Theatre Cultural Center, 705 N. Illinois St., downtown Indianapolis. Get tickets at phoenixtheatre.org, information at americanlivestheatre.org.

They won at all costs

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By John Lyle Belden

“That Championship Season” is not an easy play to watch. It is, however, a powerful drama you should see. A quick internet search revealing the names of actors in the Off-Broadway, Broadway and film productions of this 1973 Pulitzer Prize winner by Jason Miller reveals this is one of those meaty Glengarry-Death-of-a-Godot plays men trip over one another to audition for.

Main Street Productions of Westfield has stepped up to that challenge, bravely directed by Lori Raffel. Set in 1977, we meet the coach and members of the 1952 Fillmore High School basketball team from Scranton, Pennsylvania, which, as underdogs, won the State Championship on a last-second shot. (Some Hoosiers can relate.)

George Sikowski (Earl Campbell), former insurance salesman and current Mayor, is on hand at first with the youngest teammate, Tom Daley (Adrian Scott Blackwell) who at 40 is regarded by the group as a sort of drunken prodigal son. Soon to arrive are Phil Romano (Ken Kingshill), who has made a fortune in strip-mining coal; Tom’s brother James (Mark Kamish), a junior high principal, father of five, and George’s reelection campaign manager; and their Coach (Jim Simmons), who may not live long enough to make their next reunion.

It is telling that the team member who made that final shot, “magic” Martin, is missing, and has never attended a reunion.

The approximately hour-and-a-half of manly conversations weave a bit of nostalgia with a lot of discussions of George’s reelection challenge by a popular Jewish man, and how low-key antisemitism can’t be counted on to affect the results. Mr. Charmin has progressive ideas – some of which clash with Phil’s interests – and Mayor Sikowski is partly known for a zoo opening that resulted in dead elephant. Oh, and Phil slept with George’s wife.

While a solid stream of dark humor runs through the drama, it is also noteworthy for the “locker-room talk” used throughout. Raffel and the cast pull no verbal punches here, as what we hear is likely tame compared to how men in this time, place, and situation regularly spoke (and to a degree still do; fellow Veterans could attest). This was before “political correctness” entered the culture, so in addition to sexual and scatological terms, there is no restraint on the “N” word and similar slurs. After all, the “Pollack” and “Wop” in the room don’t seem to mind too much.

But look beneath the rough language and we see that the men Coach thought he had forged are still just boys in need of game plans, reliant on his guidance – flawed as he also is. Simmons in his portrayal reflects every elder you ever adored, but wondered later if that was a good thing. His is a principled bigotry, the kind often waved off as a product of his times, but still shaded with barely acknowledged hate.

Campbell channels the consummate politician, with good intentions, the desire for legacy, and solid principles as long as the check clears. Kamish as put-upon James desperately realizes that at 44 his clock is ticking on becoming a Big Success; his confidence is thinner than even he realizes. Kingshill plays Romano with a demeanor suggesting relation to certain other Italians in the region, but he stays true to the “family” his championship team provides. Tom’s plight is also reflective of the time, his supposed friends pouring him more drinks as they remark how he can’t hold his liquor; Blackwell provides the pathos and humor as each moment requires.

Hopefully you get the idea of the kind of intense drama and insight into damaged manhood this play provides. On that score, this production of “That Championship Season” is a winner. Remaining performances are Thursday through Sunday, April 11-14, at the Basile Westfield Playhouse, 220 N. Union St. Get tickets and info at westfieldplayhouse.org.

‘Grand’ look at love and relationships

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By John Lyle Belden

Welcome to Grand Horizons Independent Living Community, conveniently located about an hour’s drive from Philadelphia, Pa., or Washington, D.C. In nice apartments with neighbors close at hand a retired couple like Bill and Nancy French, married 50 years, are free to do whatever they want.

Nancy: “I want a divorce.”

Bill: “Okay”

Welcome to “Grand Horizons,” the Broadway comic drama by Bess Wohl presented in its Indiana premiere by The Hyperion Players, directed by Nicole Amsler.

Bill (Chris Otterman) and Nancy (Wendy Brown) prepare for their split as if it were just another household chore, but their sons and daughter-in-law are, to put it mildly, freaking out. Brian (Matt Hartzburg), a high school theatre teacher, is beside himself, wondering if there’s some mystery illness or dementia at play. Older brother Ben (Todd Isaac), a lawyer, is stumped at the illogic of it all, while his very pregnant wife Jess (Morgan Marie French), a couples counselor, tries to employ her skillset to no avail.

There are some deep issues here, including the central couple’s affections outside their marriage – Nancy for now-deceased old flame, Hal, and Bill for new girlfriend, Carla (Cathie Morgan). There is exploration of the nature and meaning of love: Did the Frenches lose it, or ever really have it? And how has it affected their sons, who are each hopeless people-pleasers – Ben with his checkbook, and Brian with his desire to cast every kid in his class whether the roles exist or not.

Brian’s loneliness and confusion comes through in a scene where he brings home a potential one-night stand, Tommy (Austin Uebelhor), who quickly alerts him that neediness is not a turn-on.

As for Ben, he is coming to grips with the actual dysfunction in his upbringing, suddenly afraid of what it could mean as he starts a family of his own. This stress also pushes Jess to the limit.

This examination of relationships and how we feel and communicate blends moments of heartfelt memory and longing with hilarious family-sitcom punchlines. Since older-person roles are usually supporting, it was nice to see Brown and Otterman really shine as the leads. Hartzburg and Isaac portray well two men who haven’t quite emerged from their boyhood insecurities, while Morgan French shows the spark of motherhood that comes with being on the verge of bringing another life into the world, while wondering if she is the only true grownup in the room.

Caroline Frawley assistant directs, and Elianah Atwell is stage manager.

Learn how marriage is like a boa constrictor, that “the defining feature of being an adult is not doing what you want,” and to be careful with the U-Haul. Remaining performances of “Grand Horizons” are Friday through Sunday, March 22-24, at Arts For Lawrence’s Theater at the Fort, 8920 Otis Ave. Get info and tickets at hyperionplayers.com or artsforlawrence.org.

NAATC mounts top quality ‘Black Bottom’

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By John Lyle Belden

Decades after its local premiere at the old Phoenix Theatre, August Wilson’s “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” returns on the Phoenix Theatre Cultural Center main stage, presented by Naptown African American Theatre Collective, directed by Edan Evans.

The one play of Wilson’s “Century Cycle” not taking place in Pittsburgh, the setting is a Chicago recording studio in 1927, where the “Mother of the Blues” is set to record some hits before heading back South. Note that while the events are the playwright’s conjecture, inspired by an old recording, Gertrude “Ma” Rainey (1886-1939) was very real and larger than life.

First to arrive to check the set-up are the studio manager Sturtevant (Patrick Vaughn) and Rainey’s manager Irvin (Scot Greenwell). Soon the musicians arrive: pianist Toledo (Bryan Ball), Cutler (Ben Rose) with his trombone, Slow Drag (John Singleton) with his stand-up bass, and young trumpet player Levee (Xavier Jones), who has ambitions of starting his own band eventually. While they wait for Ma, we get to know them as they rehearse. They’re no-nonsense and used to doing it “Ma’s way,” except for Levee, who even has his own arrangement of the title song.

Finally, Rainey (Alicia Sims) does arrive, accompanied by her nervous nephew Sylvester (Jy’ierre Jones), companion Dussie Mae (Selena Jackson), and a policeman (Doug Powers) whom Irvin has to pacify to ensure the recording session continues. Little else will go smoothly this day, while it is made plain that while this is Sturtevant’s studio, Ma Rainey is in charge.

Much of this play focuses on the men in the band, which was wise of Wilson as keeping such a force of nature as Ma at center stage throughout would have essentially made this a one-woman show. If there is a fiercer adjective than “fierce,” that’s what describes Sims’s performance. By this point a veteran performer and recording artist, Ma knows her worth, is hair-trigger aware of disrespect (especially by white folks), and thus absolutely no one to trifle with. Her sense of Roaring Twenties sexual liberation is unabashed, from her fondling of Dussie Mae to turning the Black Bottom (a dance that at the time rivaled the Charleston in popularity) into a double entendre.

Those playing the band smoothly embody individual quirks. Ball has Toledo wax philosophical in a conversational manner that still gives him the last word. Rose, in his cool Cab Calloway haircut as Cutler, plays it loose, going along to get along, but draws the line when you mock his faith. Singleton also takes it easy as fun-loving Slow Drag (the name gets explained). Xavier Jones plays Levee in all his complexity: brash and bold, yet naive; quick to smile or to anger; boyish looks on a man who has, we discover, dealt with unspeakable pain.

Also notable is Jy’ierre Jones’s portrayal of Sylvester, pushing through nerves and a stutter to give Ma what she needs in one of her most celebrated recordings.

Vaughn’s Sturtevant comes across as a subtle villain, all business and white privilege without overt bad intentions. Though no doubt dealing with “colored” clientele harshly or indifferently has a racial element, his successors throughout recording history will shortchange musicians of all backgrounds. As for our beleaguered white manager Irvin, Greenwell plays him not spineless, but flexible, constantly working the thin line that sets the talent and the money men worlds apart.

Splendid split stage design is by Fei with scenic design by Cole Wilgus and Ky Brooke. Kayla Hill is stage manager.

Witness this speculative look at a great moment in American music history. “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” runs through March 24 at the Phoenix Theatre Cultural Center, 705 N. Illinois St., downtown Indianapolis. Tickets at phoenixtheatre.org, or naatcinc.org.

‘Bat in the Wind’ flutters back

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By John Lyle Belden

Write what you know. That’s the universal advice to writers, and some, like novelist Stephen King, turn the muse inward and pen stories about those who pen stories. As a longtime friend (though not as long as some) of playwright Casey Ross, I have seen her blinking cursor return – between indulgences in the silly or geeky – to the shadows of memory and the recrafting of friends made and lost into characters who are new, yet familiar.

She may even agree that the King reference is apt, as he and she both know that it is within the mind where true monsters lie. Bringing those beasties out into the light seemed to be one of the goals of the “Gallery” trilogy she introduced at IndyFringe almost two decades ago. From the start, she presented flawed people with flawed relationships in a way that reminds us that those aspects are baked into the hardware of humanity, not something to be blithely resolved in the third act.

With her most personal work, she lays bare the struggles of a playwright striving to understand their own art in “Bat in the Wind,” which has returned to the IndyFringe Theatre, this time on the more intimate Indy Eleven stage. Last August’s premiere during the 2023 IndyFringe Festival featured a script that was carefully trimmed down to Fringe-show length (under an hour). The updated Catalyst Repertory production, directed by Zachariah Stonerock and clocking in at about an hour and a half (no intermission), is restored, not padded out. Nothing feels extra, and motivations and conversations even gain clarity.

Matt Craft returns as Taylor, a 26-year-old writer who has found himself single, near broke, and suddenly without electricity. This on top of the fact that the prose that should be a brilliant play about the human condition just sits there lifeless on his laptop screen. But before he can attempt to remedy that, he must go next door to his duplex neighbor, Randy (Dane Rogers), a slovenly older man who appears to care about nothing but sustaining his alcoholism. The first thing he says at any conversation is a slurred, “You’re not mad at me, are you?” – in case there was something bad he said or did during a blackout.

The play is subtitled, “A Recent Study on Depression and Addiction,” which at first glance is a reference to poor Randy. However, it’s easy to sniff out your own kind, and in his more lucid moments, he reminds Taylor (and us) that our frustrated wordsmith is an addict as well – and he’s got it bad.

Like a drunk bargaining with his demons, Taylor thinks he has a way of getting his literary high with no danger of personal pain. To write about what he knows, creative folk, he makes the characters in his play photographers, not writers. (This puzzles Randy, but in this writer’s opinion it’s a tactic of distance, the creator always on the safe side of the camera, apart from any action or drama. I note this parenthetically in case Casey tells me I got it wrong.)

Taylor prides himself on being a keen observer, using parts of those he watches to bring truth to his fictional scenes. Randy calls him on treating people like musical instruments, “not everyone likes to be played!” This humbling moment passes, though, and Taylor makes a fragile promise to his “interesting” neighbor. But like a bottle or needle, the muse calls.

All this, in what is technically a dark comedy. Ross’s penchant for dialogue that feels natural yet has every phrase weighted with meaning also generates a surprising number of laughs. Rogers’ no-nonsense deadpan delivery helps immensely, with the real-life absurdity of dealing with someone who’s blotto without comic buffoonery. Randal Leach may be a drunk, but he must be respected.

Craft finds himself the butt of laughter just as often. His constant striving wins our sympathy, despite the fact that he’s morose and manic (the pot and occasional hits of coke don’t help) like someone perpetually treading water, unaware and in fear of how deep in he is. His months-long experience with the role fits him like a second skin.

I must note that, as those with low means tend to indulge in affordable vices, there is a large amount of smoking of lit stage cigarettes in this show. The language – true to Ms. Ross’s style – is as salty as ever.

Also, the ending feels like it lends itself to an unrevealed epilogue, or even a third act. Consider that part being after the lights go up and you are left sitting with your thoughts. Perhaps it’s when you return to see Catalyst’s remounting of “Gallery” this summer. Maybe it’s when you finally sit down to write your next masterpiece, the blinking cursor beckoning like an old habit.

“Bat in the Wind (Or a Recent Study on Depression & Addiction)” has performances March 8-10 and 15-17 at 719 E. St. Clair, Indianapolis. Get tickets at indyfringe.org, more info at catalystrepertory.org or the company Facebook page.

CCP: Follow the journey of ‘Violet’

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By John Lyle Belden 

Carmel Community Players brings us its production of the heartwarming and bittersweet musical, “Violet,” which is becoming familiar through its Off-Broadway and Broadway runs as well as fairly recent local productions.

As creators Jeanine Tesori and Brian Crawley (based on a story by Doris Betts) intended, we are advised that the disfiguring scar on the title character’s face is not visible on the actor, Sarah Marone-Sowers, so that we may choose to see it with our minds’ eye, or opt to see the beauty within. For Violet, it is a curse she carries into adulthood from a years-ago accident with her father and a wayward axe head. At last, in 1964, she has saved enough to take a Greyhound bus from the hills of North Carolina all the way through Tennessee and Arkansas to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where a television preacher works miracles. She reached her hand to the black-and-white screen, but the Lord’s healing somehow did not reach her. Now she believes she will get her new face, direct from the source.

On her travels, she meets a friendly, well-meaning grandmother (Christine Sanserino) and two soldiers, Flick (Onis Dean), a black Sergeant, and Monty (Dominic Piedmonte) a white Corporal. As they ride, she also remembers the past, in flashbacks with Young Violet (Kenzi Stewart) and Dad (Darrin Gowan). Her budding friendship with the G.I.’s is tested in an overnight stay in Memphis, Tenn., leading to an awkward parting in Fort Smith, Ark. (the soldiers to the nearby military post). Next stop: Tulsa and an eye-opening encounter with a very busy Preacher (Scott A. Fleshood).

The cast also includes Jay Becker, Damaris Burgin, Chloe Vann, and Lawrence Wunderlich in various roles, the men (and Fleshood) taking turns as bus driver. Burgin is notable as keeper of a Memphis boarding house and the televangelist’s choir leader. Vann also sings well in the choir and at a Music Hall. Wunderlich is the Preacher’s assistant. Becker plays a rude fry cook.

Marone-Sowers shines as a woman desperately applying blind faith to deep wounds (physical and mental), as does Dean, portraying one who also knew the lifelong pain of others’ judgement, yet found his strength. The high level of talent in Gowan and high school freshman Stewart elevates their characters as more than dramatic device. These strong spirits boldy show their story, following Violet to their necessary encounter on a cathedral stage. Kathleen Horrigan directs.

Especially for anyone who can’t see their own beauty, take a good look at “Violet,” Thursday through Sunday, March 7-9, at the Switch Theatre, located in Ji-Eun Lee Music Academy, 10029 E. 126th St., Suite D, Fishers. Get tickets and info at carmelplayers.org.

Good examination of ‘Bad Seed’

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By John Lyle Belden

The story that shockingly brought the question of nature vs. nurture in human evil to popular culture, “The Bad Seed,” is brought splendidly to the stage in an adaptation by Indianapolis’s own James Capps, produced and directed by Callie Burk-Hartz for Betty Rage Productions at the downtown Scottish Rite Cathedral.

Time brings a notable perspective to this drama. We, as a society, have learned an incredible amount in the decades since the 1954 novel by William March, which became a play that year and a hit movie in 1956. Since then, especially with the Criminal Minds and Hannibal Lecter books, films and TV series, as well as True Crime shows and podcasts, the average person is at least casually aware of the signs a person is a “born” psychopath or sociopath.

This sense of “if we only knew then what we know now” adds a deeper level of suspense and dread to the Capps play, placed firmly in the Eisenhower era, when the nature of criminality is only starting to be understood. Being born bad is a fringe theory, with juvenile acts chalked up to bad backgrounds. So, of course, 10-year-old Rhoda Penmark (played by 11-year-old Greta Shambarger) couldn’t be anything more than the perfect little girl adults take her to be.

She gets excellent care from doting parents Christine (Christine Zavakos) and Col. Kenneth Penmark (Lukas Schoolar) in their beautiful Tallahassee apartment. Col. Penmark gives Rhoda extra gifts and “baskets of hugs” to compensate for leaving on assignment to the Pentagon. Meanwhile, the girl is off to a school picnic, while Christine hosts lunch for friend and criminologist author Reginald Tasker (Tristin Ross) and landlady and upstairs neighbor Monica Breedlove (Shannon Samson), who is fascinated with Freudian psychotherapy.

The day turns tragic as Rhoda’s classmate Claude Daigle – whom she had been furious at for winning a Penmanship Medal she felt she had deserved – “accidentally” drowns during the school outing. Our girl then blithely skips home and quietly slips something into her keepsake box.

While coldly clever, Rhoda is still only as smart as her age, but goes far on charm, flattery, and, at turns, tantrums. Still, there are suspicions. Her teacher Miss Fern (Alyce Penny) is impressed at her academic prowess but concerned at her inability to get along with peers, or to accept setbacks. The apartment building caretaker Leroy (Austin Hookfin), having a simple yet complex mind of his own, senses her constant deceit, and calls her out on it. Claude’s distraught mother, Mrs. Esther Daigle (Jenni White), is positive there is more than what she’s been told, but her excessive drinking blunts efforts to get at the truth.

Christine increasingly realizes what has been going on, and with the help of her father, former radio star and investigative journalist Richard Bravo (Ronnie Johnstone), digs at a deeper secret.

Performances are nicely delivered with a touch of melodrama appropriate to a 50s film, tension builds as revelations and bodies fall. Zavakos is touching as a devoted mother, afraid the blame could be partly hers, driven to extreme measures. Samson and Ross ably portray the know-it-alls who miss the big clue because they can’t see past the smile and pigtails – a pity they never asked Leroy, who Hookfin plays with a wink to his aw-shucks manner. White brings out the full tragedy of survivorship without support. Johnstone gives a case study on internal conflict, struggling against the inevitable pain to himself and others.

Shambarger, being a gifted young actress, makes you want to not let her near sharp objects until she’s at least in high school. She manages the layered expression of a person without emotion presenting emotion, a caught animal coldly calculating a way out, or a machine-like stare.

The timeless wood-trimmed auditorium of the Scottish Rite compliments the cozy living room set by Christian McKinny. Gigi Jennewein is assistant director; Kallen Ruston is stage manager, assisted by Jamie Rich.

As this is posted, there are performances tonight, Saturday afternoon and evening and Sunday matinee, March 1-3, at the Scottish Rite, 650 N. Meridian (entrance and parking in the back), Indianapolis. Get tickets at bettyrageproductions.com.

IRT presents ‘Folks’ in a comic situation

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By John Lyle Belden

The situation comedy, a/k/a sitcom, is primarily an American invention, and in its many settings often reflects an aspect of the American Dream. But put something that could be made into a TV pilot on a stage with no cameras – just the live audience – and you find that the difference between a “Full House” and “A Raisin in the Sun” becomes little more than the laugh track.

This is the genre-testing approach of R. Eric Thomas’s “The Folks at Home,” in its second-ever production, presented by Indiana Repertory Theatre (its premiere was in Baltimore, where the story is set).

Young married couple Brandon and Roger (Garrett Young and Keith Illidge) are hitting what could be a rough patch. The big house they bought is changing from a wise investment to a burden as Roger has trouble finding a job; still, Brandon has things budgeted so they can stay until they sell the house – which Roger privately doesn’t want to do. Also, the ghost put the mail in the refrigerator again.

While Brandon’s at work, Roger’s parents Pamela and Vernon (Oliva D. Dawson and Sean Blake) arrive, informing him that their house is in foreclosure, and they are going to have to move in. Later, Brandon’s says-whatever’s-in-her-head mother Maureen (Tracy Michelle Arnold) shows up, stating that since she’s between jobs and living situations, her son said she could move in. Then the “maid” Alice (Claire Wilcher) abruptly arrives to clean off the dust and bad vibes.

As they say in the biz, hilarity ensues.

It’s interesting to guess all the possible classic sitcom influences jammed into this play – “Odd Couple,” “All in the Family,” “Jeffersons,” “Roseanne/Conners,” “Ghosts,” “Modern Family,” you name it – but that would be a disservice to Thomas and director Reggie D. White. In this homage to problems that work out in half an hour of wholesome humor, we see what happens when the issues don’t stop when the theme song kicks back in. Just as many teleplays are based on lived experiences in family homes, this fictional family sees things getting real between the quippy one-liners and odd misunderstandings.

Even with the ever-lurking drama, there are some belly-laugh comic moments, including the always-awkward “family meeting,” and the arrival in Act 2 of Wilcher as Brandon’s very pregnant sister Brittany, eager to dispense her “crock-pot” wisdom. The cast give us unique characters that still suggest archetypes – Maureen a bit Archie Bunker, Vernon a bit George Jefferson, Brandon and Roger like pals of Will and Grace – which like those personae keep them relatable to folks we know or people we’ve been. Given more than a half-hour for the plot to play out, it’s like binging a short season’s arc (complete with Intermission for a break) to see how all the storylines resolve. Funny, uplifting, and NOT available on Netflix or any other streaming service. Catch “The Folks at Home” at the IRT, 140 W. Washington St., Indianapolis, through March 16. Get tickets and information at irtlive.com.

‘Crew’ remembers forgotten Civil Rights heroes

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By John Lyle Belden

“Cadillac Crews are not fictional. They really happened. But we don’t know the many names of the women who, on them, helped to integrate the American south.” – Playwright Tori Sampson in an interview on www.newpaltz.edu.

Black women in the 1960s faced a battle on two fronts. They endured the struggle for racial equality alongside Black men, who at times placed them in a strictly background role, mostly unheard and largely unknown.

In the play, “Cadillac Crew,” by Tori Sampson, presented by Mud Creek Players, this becomes a hard lesson for Rachel Christopher (Shakisha Mahogany), leader in a Virginia civil rights activists’ office. She has arranged for movement pioneer Rosa Parks to speak at an upcoming conference. However, her day starts with friction from office assistant Abby (Shanae Denise), who feels she should have more duties, considering her pre-law degree. Rachel notes that even with her Masters, all she has done is administrative work, but that should soon change. Dee (Gabrielle Patterson) arrives already under stress, dealing with her daughter starting class at a mostly-White school under a new Integration plan. Finally, there is Sarah (Rachel Kelso), whose Whiteness raises quiet suspicion with Abby and Dee, despite her eagerness to help and Rachel’s willingness to vouch for her.

Two pieces of bad news arrive – the male leadership’s decision to demote Parks’ appearance from a keynote address to perhaps a luncheon, and a report out of Florida of a burned-out Cadillac with the bodies of two women voting rights workers. No names are given, but Abby knew them.

Striving to rise above not only the pervasive Jim Crow racism but also what we now call “erasure,” Rachel volunteers her office as the next Cadillac Crew. Such teams are similar to the Freedom Riders of volunteer college students who traveled into the Deep South to organize and register voters (sometimes with tragic results), but in this case more low-key, driving the back roads to speak to churches and women’s groups to encourage the causes of integration, voting rights and other freedoms.

Seeing the lack of writing on the wall, Rachel is determined not to be forgotten, insisting that she and the others keep diaries of their ramblings through the South. Her lofty speeches seem to be well received, and things are going well, provided the crew can make it over the dusty road to Jackson, Mississippi…

Directed by Dani Lopez-Roque, this play is a powerful reminder of the many mostly-unknown people who worked for the cause of freedom, and how the pressures of that struggle led to a lot of tension and disagreement within the ranks. This isn’t four girls on a road trip; it is four women constantly questioning if any of this is worth it. All four actors are as dedicated as the women they portray, embracing the complexity that even within a settled goal like equality, there are many-sided arguments of how to get there.

The play ends with a final scene in 2024, which seems a little odd, but helps put the preceding events in perspective as a young podcaster strives to un-erase what has been hidden.

The Mud Creek Barn helps set the scene before the play with signage as you enter regarding the strictures of Jim Crow. The program is in the style of newspaper from 1963. And be sure you line up at the “right” window when getting your ticket or popcorn.

Performances of “Cadillac Crew” are Feb. 16-18 and 23-24 at 9740 E. 86th St., Indianapolis. For tickets and info, go to mudcreekplayers.org.