John

Phoenix hosts grand ‘Grandmothers’ in comedy caper

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By John Lyle Belden

For decades an asset to both the Indy arts and African-American communities, Actors Ink returns to the boards with a focus on “POCA” – People Of a Certain Age.

That mission, giving aspiring actors of any experience level in their 60s or older their time to shine on stage, is reflected in the present production of the comedy “Grandmothers, Incorporated,” by Crystal V. Rhodes and L. Barnett Evans, based on their series of mystery novels, directed by Sandra Gay at the Phoenix Theatre Cultural Center.

Finding a home broken into can be distressing, but what if it’s you in the wrong house? Bea, Connie, Hattie, and Ms. Fannie had planned a “spiritual retreat” to their friend’s cabin in the woods. After a few wrong turns, they arrive at the vacation home to find everything thrown about – a complete mess – and a man tied up in the closet! What’s more, the man turns out to be notorious local drug kingpin Chevron Harris; what’s worse, this might actually be his cabin.

The main mystery for these ladies to solve is how to get out of this without ending up in jail for B&E, or a worse fate at Chevron’s hands, while ensuring the man gets behind bars where he belongs.

The cast puts in a brave effort, putting aside aches, pains and occasional memory glitches to draw laughs and delight from a supportive audience. But you don’t have to be a close friend or relative to thrill at Sharon Maye-Jordan’s sass as Miss Fannie or fall under the spell of smooth-talking Eric Yancy as Chevron, who can suddenly switch from suave to spiteful. Patricia Ann Brookins is Bea, and depending or the performance, Deniece Bailey or Patty Johnson is Hattie, Linda Murray Parks or Pamela E. Yancy is Connie, Betty Meriweather or Georgia Myers is a radio announcer who appears at the end, and Larry David Keogh is an alternative for Chevron. Luther Montgomery is heard as the “Voice of God.”

This partnership with Actors Ink is a credit to the Phoenix Theatre’s continuing commitment to community arts and minority voices. The production is also supported by Witherspoon Presbyterian Church.

Performances of “Grandmothers, Incorporated” are Friday through Sunday, Oct. 13-15, on the main stage at 705 N. Illinois, downtown Indianapolis. Get tickets at phoenixtheatre.org.

Bard Fest takes another look at Trojan War

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By John Lyle Belden

If the title of Shakespeare’s “Troilus and Cressida” sounds familiar, that’s because just this last July there was a musical adaptation, presented by Southbank Theatre. This time around, the war story/comedy/tragedy is presented by Indy Bard Fest on the stage of the Cat theatre in Carmel.

Director Zach Stonerock approaches this play as a satire of the Trojan War (and thus war in general). As battles tend to “trash” the landscape, the stage looks like a modern salvage yard, the players like a band of hobo thespians acting out the Bard’s work to pass the time. For junkyard scavengers, knowing who plays Ajax is easy if you can find the plastic bottle.

Thersites the Fool (Sarah Heider) welcomes us and introduces the war, already seven years in progress (these events are prior to the legendary part with the big horse, which is hinted at). Young Trojan prince Troilus (Jack Tiehen) is seeking to woo fair Cressida (Hannah Embree), whose father has defected to the Greeks, leaving her with uncle Pandarus (David Mosedale), all too eager to play matchmaker. Trojan troops, led by older princes Paris (Tristan Montgomery) and chivalrous Hector (Ryan Powell), and general Aeneas (Tim Fox), return from battle frustrated at the continuing stalemate. They consider whether it would be best for Paris to return Helen (Abigail Simmon), whom he had stolen from the Greeks, starting this whole mess. It would at least quiet the ravings of princess Cassandra (Audrey Stonerock). But proud Troilus helps talk Hector out of that plan, which leads to an even more audacious one.

Meanwhile, on the Greek side, King Agamemnon (Jeffrey Stratford), Menelaus (Mosedale), Diomedes (Jack Paganelli), and Ulysses (Tristan Ross), are frustrated that their best warrior, Achilles (John Kern), is refusing to fight, staying in his tent with his boytoy Patroclus (Montgomery). Under truce, Aeneas arrives with a proposed challenge – Hector vs. a champion of their choice in single combat. The Greek leaders accept and decide to name less-able soldier Ajax (Austin Hookfin), confident the insult to Achilles should rouse him to battle.

Lest we forget the title, there is more intrigue with Troilus and Cressida, who decide on a quick tryst before being formally wed. But the morning after brings news that the girl has become little more than a bargaining chip.

The cast also includes Brittany Magee as Hector’s wife Andromache, yet another woman whose feelings are disregarded.

Though the trappings of this telling are a bit comical, the story is deadly serious. Tiehen gives a solid performance, with the looks and aggressive romantic bluster of a Romeo but a little smarter and less suicidal. Embree also plays her lead admirably, a young woman getting by on cleverness until she can’t, then realizing she is her only salvation, even if it means hurting one who loves her.

Stratford plays an amusing monarch, but not one to be trifled with. His portrayal, along with Kern and Montgomery’s haughtiness and Ross’s deadpan, reflect how the early scenes play out like a Strangelovian comedy. Powell, who easily slips into roles both comical and serious, plays Hector as both nobly earnest and absurdly genteel. Heider, for her part, revels in her role. As the play progresses towards bloodshed, however, the tragedy and waste of war come to the fore.

An intriguing example of how all’s un-fair in love and war, “Troilus and Cressida” has three more performances Friday through Sunday, Oct. 13-15, at the Cat, 254 Veterans Way in downtown Carmel. Get tickets at indybardfest.com.

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.

Bradbury Center hosts one hell of a show

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By John Lyle Belden

Emmy winner and Ray Bradbury superfan Bill Oberst Jr. has portrayed many characters who reflect the darkness within mankind; in his new one-person show, “Adversary,” he takes on the Devil himself.

Presented as part of the IU Indianapolis Ray Bradbury Center “Festival 451 Indy,” Oberst’s performance in the District Theater, Sept. 30-Oct. 1 is the world premiere. (If you are seeing this as it is posted, you may be able to make the 2 p.m. Sunday show.)

Satan, who enjoys toying with the words of others, regards himself through sources ranging from ancient scripture to Mark Twain. Oberst contributes one piece, “Your 3 A.M. Therapist.” Mr. Bradbury is not quoted, though this suits the literary mission of the festival, and Oberst said in a follow-up Q&A that Bradbury’s character of Mr. Dark in “Something Wicked This Way Comes” was an inspiration – one of the better depictions of the Devil in fiction.

“Here we hear lies; here we hear truth,” the entity before us declares. “The devil is in the distinction.”

He focuses on three principal “true lies” that sound good and right but are bendable to darker purposes. Passages such as Fyodor Dostoevsky’s “The Grand Inquisitor,” from “The Brothers Karamazov,” show their application.

It is sometimes said that a work of theatre challenges you in the audience. This one literally does. Old Scratch knows you are watching and speaks to you through the ephemeral fourth wall. Do you answer? Regardless, there is plenty of food for thought here – dine with care.

“Adversary” is a unique, engaging, and in its own dark way enlightening theatre experience. For more information on Oberst and his projects, visit billoberst.com; click here for the Ray Bradbury Center in Indianapolis.

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.

NAATC keeps high standard with run of ‘Detroit ’67’

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By John Lyle Belden

The Naptown African American Theatre Collective (NAATC) is taking its slogan, “We Don’t Follow the Trends, We Are the Trend,” seriously.

Indianapolis’s first Black Equity theatre company, the 501c3 nonprofit organization is dedicated to diverse employment and speaking to the Black experience in all its forms. It also means to make its presence known and felt with excellent productions by great Black talents.

Dominique Morisseau is quickly rising to be a name listed among great playwrights who tell the American story with all its hard truths, names like August Wilson (whose “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” is up next for NAATC) or even Tennessee Williams. A strong qualifier for the play that is her “Fences” or “Streetcar” would be “Detroit ‘67” – her second produced play, it roars through the tragic side of American culture on all cylinders, carrying with it an interesting mix of relatable characters who find the American Dream a nightmare, and no good deed unpunished.

NAATC’s recent production of “Detroit ’67,” directed by D’yshe Mansfield at the Phoenix Theatre Cultural Center, was a superb showcase of local talent. Set in a neighborhood where racial tensions and police brutality lead to widespread riots (now nearly forgotten, but at the time serious enough to call out the National Guard), we see everything from the relative safety of a residential basement. It’s the house siblings Chelle (LaKesha Lorene) and Lank (Ennis Adams, Jr.) inherited from their parents, along with a modest bank account. They understand how truly lucky they are to be Black homeowners at all, but money is tight, and to make ends meet the downstairs is a literal underground after-hours “Party” spot, where those who don’t want to risk police encounters at bars and clubs can enjoy some drinks, music, and the company of friends.

Their friend, Sly (Daniel A. Martin) has an inside line on getting him and Lank a legitimate neighborhood bar, but Chelle is afraid of touching their saved cash for fear of losing it all, especially with the White powers that be all to willing to strike down any Blacks who assert themselves, even legally. Ever on hand is Chelle’s best friend Bunny (portrayed by Dena Toler or Kelly Kel, depending on performance), whose flirty, fun style masks her practical sense.

Further complicating things is Caroline (Sara Castillo Dandurand), a mysterious white woman rescued by Lank from being left for dead in the street. Her mere skin tone spells trouble, but nothing like the secrets her true identity holds.

Layered in with the drama is a healthy helping of sitcom-level humor. Lots of laugh lines are exchanged among friends, with genuine affection expressed among them, and Caroline striving to be less of a burden as she heals. Add to this a good number of Motown hits in background or woven into the plot, and it all starts to look like fun, or at least the hope of a happy conclusion.

But suddenly, outside the basement windows, there are shouts, and fires, and armored vehicles, and gunshots. The party’s over.

Lorene is solid as the woman at the eye of this storm, whose façade of strength hides a fear of becoming crushed – financially, emotionally, even physically — like so many others in her city. Adams is excellent as the young man who realizes he is overdue to fully grow up and stop leaning on her older sister (much as she likes it), but still wanting her to be happy. Martin is once again a master of both comedy and drama as the chill guy dealing with cold reality, and ambitions he is eager to share with Chelle by his side. I’m sure Toler was outstanding as usual, however, I saw a performance with Kel as Bunny, and it felt like the role was written for her. Dandurand plays the cypher well, proving to be the kind of person who can’t help but get into trouble – bringing others with her.

Woven in with this look at family, trust, and life’s struggles are the bigger issues that still don’t seem fixed more than 55 years later, making “Detroit ‘67” an appropriate choice for NAATC’s inaugural season, and worthy of looking up wherever it is staged. Once again, this company is upping the quality of Indy’s cultural scene – setting the trend.

Thus Spake Southbank: Fascinating portrait of a misunderstood man

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By John Lyle Belden

It’s interesting that Marcia Eppich-Harris relates her writing of the play, “Seeking Nietzsche,” now premiering with Southbank Theatre Company, “out of order in 30- to 45-minute blocks, simply writing whatever I had time to blast out.” This scattered approach reflects how German academic and philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) reportedly composed one of his more notable works, “Thus Spake Zarathustra,” which is referenced in the play.

True to a philosopher of at the edge of the modern world, this dramatic examination of the man goes back and forth, from his deathbed to his early academic career, to his various works, and to his key relationships. Lukas Schooler in the brushy mustache bears a resemblance to Nietzsche, and his talent at interpreting the often-misunderstood personality brings him brilliantly to life, noting, in Eppich-Harris’s words (that Friedrich would likely have said, given the chance), “Some men are born posthumously, as I was.”

The set, designed by Aric Harris, is a theatre of Nietzsche’s decaying mind – papers everywhere – which fits neatly into the pit-like indoor amphitheater of Shelton Auditorium at Butler University. Evren Wilder Elliott, familiar with being misunderstood and the struggle to make one’s self the best man possible, directs with an eye to portraying a man whose life and opinions were ever on the move, never predictably fixed. Nikki Sayer is stage manager.

In Nietzsche’s world, we meet his firmly conservative sister, Elisabeth Forster-Nietzsche (Amalia Howard), whose German Nationalist pride easily adopts the anti-semitism his brother never felt. There is also Lou Salomè (Trick Blanchfield), with whom Friedrich and another companion attempt a philosophical commune – a sort of thruple with no sex, but a lot of longing. That doesn’t last, but Salomè’s deep platonic affection for him does. Celebrated composer Richard Wagner (James Mannan) is embraced as a father figure; his works were as brilliant as his views on society were toxic. Swept up by the former, Nietzsche finally cannot tolerate the latter.

Much of the difficulty in understanding the philosopher was due to his fluctuating viewpoints, scribbled roughly on various sheafs of paper; this was further distorted by the posthumous editing of his sister, an eventual admirer of the new German Chancellor.

I joked to Eppich-Harris that I would have named the play, “God is Dead, and I’m Not Feeling Too Well, Myself,” but that sentiment does sum up the feeling of her “Finding Nietzsche.” In Wilder’s hands, with bold support by Howard, Blanchfield, and Mannan, we get from Schooler an intriguing soul always suffering in some manner – mentally, spiritually, and especially physically – but with an underlying cord of humor than never quite breaks until the moment he sees his legacy likely forever tainted, when we see the ghost of the man who mourned God, nearly cry.

Pardon the tangent, but consider how on short video online platforms, you can see an exploding object with the video run in reverse. The outer damage and exploded bits collapse towards the initial blast, finally bringing the true object in focus. This play hits “rewind” on the violently interpreted concepts such as the “ubermensch,” bringing us back to the contrary yet certain man who went out for a walk and came back with some insight.

A brilliant exploration of a man, his philosophy, and how they molded each other before changing the world, the play runs Thursday through Sunday, Sept. 21-24, at the Shelton, 1000 W. 42nd St., Indianapolis (Seminary side of the Butler University campus). Information at southbanktheatre.org, tickets through Butler Arts and Events.