Review - Gut - Krivski Productions - Being A Parent Is Terrifying - 5 Stars

There’s an oft-recycled quotation, so often recycled that it’s become almost a cliche, attributed to the author Elizabeth Stone, that goes, “Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” On one of my regular visits out to see my goddaughter and her family, her mother mentioned to me casually in conversation that one of the simplest strategies for keeping your kids from being sexually trafficked is just to make sure that they don’t take their phone, or computer with access to the internet, to bed with them.  And sure enough, when it was time for bed, the phones and other screens were turned in for the night.  Being a parent is terrifying.  It’s also wonderful.  But nonetheless terrifying.  

“I’ve always been able to trust my gut.”

After all, at first a child is completely defenseless, dependent on you for literally everything.  Then when they’re walking around on their own, they can get hurt in any number of ways, both physically and emotionally.  And when children are younger, they’re so trusting, of everyone, perhaps even people they shouldn’t trust.  Then as they get older, they talk to you less and less.  So it can be hard to know what’s really going on, and how you can help - if you can help.  Things like climate change become more real for me when I think that my goddaughter is going to be stuck living in whatever banged up planet we leave her, long after I’m gone. This terror, of your child being vulnerable to the whims of an increasingly hostile world, is the unsettling premise at the heart of the Scottish playwright Frances Poet’s play “Gut.”  The script is getting its American premiere right here in Minneapolis thanks to Krivski Productions, led by Danielle Krivinchuk (lead actress in the production, for whom this has been a dream project for a number of years), Elizabeth Desotelle (another key actor in the four person ensemble), Julie K. Phillips (director on the production), and co-producer Andrew Troth.

“Sometimes you need to live, not knowing.”

It’s easy to see this is a labor of love by just looking at the setting before the performance even begins. Greg Vanselow’s set design maximizes every inch of space in The Hive Collaborative’s blackbox space. The set is so brightly painted in primary colors and outlines of shapes that it could be mistaken for a childcare facility out of context. In context, it’s a great many locations, both real and unreal. Maddy and Rory’s home kitchen area is the one unmoving locale, but rolling set pieces (conjuring the feel of an enormous set of child’s blocks), a clothesline, directional signs that pop out and then just as quickly retract again, a door in the wall of many uses, all keep the boundaries fluid and the story moving along.  In addition, Vanselow’s prop work populates the set with many child’s toys and games, along with items better suited to the adults in the play.  All of this is augmented, for both reality and surreality, by the lighting and sound design of Shannon Elliott.  The lights take us from regular illumination to unsettling saturated dark colors as each scene requires, and the sound of children’s laughter and playful screams get distorted to eery effect.  Bronson Talcott’s costumes ground the characters in the real world, even as one of the characters descends, both emotionally and visually through what they’re wearing and how they’re wearing it, into a spiral of escalating fear and anxiety.  Stage Manager Jennifer Long keeps the whole complex rollercoaster of a tale on the tracks for its full uninterrupted 100 minute run time.

“It’s true the corpses aren’t saying much.”
 
Maddy (Krivinchuk) and Rory (Nick Wolf), a young couple with a three-year-old (unseen) son named Joshua, leave the boy in the care of his grandmother (Rory’s mom) Morven (Desotelle) when they go on a much needed weekend getaway (new parents rarely getting much alone time as a couple). They return in the opening scene of the play refreshed and happy, but the mood gets tense when Morven recounts a tale of being out with Joshua, and him having a sudden need to go to the restroom just as she was reaching the cash register to pay for their meal. A man behind them in line offered to take Joshua to the men’s room while Morven wrangled their meals on trays and the payment for them. Seeing no harm in it, Morven took the man up on his offer.  Everything seemed to pass without incident and it might be just an awkward funny story, but Maddy and Rory are instead alarmed that Joshua’s grandmother let a strange man take the boy to the restroom.  And that’s the point from which everything starts to unravel.

“He’s probably fine but what if he isn’t?”

Krivinchuk and Wolf are great as the concerned parents, at first both in a kind of anxiety spiral together, and then diverging as Rory forces himself to find a way to move on, while Maddy becomes more fearful of all the people out in the world who could harm her son if she’s not there to protect him. This leads to multiple seismic shifts in the family unit as Maddy decides to take a leave of absence from work to stay home with Joshua, and finds her relationship with Morven fraying as the young mother loses trust in their go-to caregiver. Desotelle is heartbreaking as Morven, a woman desperately trying to repair the relationship with the young woman she’d come to think of as her own daughter.

“They’ve got to get bumped and bruised. That’s how they learn.”

And discussion of the ensemble would be incomplete without mention of Sean Dillon, who plays multiple roles, from several different parents in the neighborhood and at Joshua’s school, to a policeman, to the leader of a support group, to one of Rory’s co-workers, and of course all the nightmare visions who Maddy conjures in her waking hallucinations of adults popping up in unexpected places who mean her child harm.  Dillon is quite the chameleon, sometimes going from benevolent to menacing in the blink of an eye.

“I don’t trust you yet.”

Director Julie K. Phillips skillfully guides the talented cast through the shifting tone of the play and its different levels of reality.  The audience gets to see the world as both benign, and then also in the threatening way it can sometimes be perceived, rightly or wrongly, by an anxious parent.  It’s a tricky balance to pull off but everyone involved does it well.  Just for an extra layer of difficulty though, don’t forget that “Gut” is by a Scottish playwright, which means all the actors involved have to pull off a convincing accent for the entirety of the play as well - hats off to dialect coach Gillian C. Rosewell for putting them through their paces so it all sounds natural.  It’s easy to forget they’re all Minnesotans until the curtain call arrives and the masks finally drop.

“Do not fail your son.  You *teach* him.”

Fair warning, we’re dealing with a tale of parental anxiety, and it includes the recounting after the fact of an act of child abuse (though it is not depicted onstage in front of the audience).  “Gut” goes to some dark places before it ends in an unexpected but welcome place of (nervous) hope.  Also, in the final moments there’s an uncredited cameo I won’t spoil that puts the stakes of the story in sharp relief.  But it also provides a bit of childlike wonder, which was a great note on which to end.

“It’s like I’ve opened a door in my mind and I don’t know how to shut it again.”

Because people have to find ways of dealing with the world, parents especially.  So much is beyond our control, but shutting down and trying to block it all out isn’t a viable solution.  Three cheers for therapy as a helpful coping mechanism, alongside support of family and friends.  It’s hard to know who you can trust, but you have to find a way to trust someone.  Find a solid foundation, and build out your network from there.

“If I say yes, can I come home?”

“Gut” is a stellar piece of theater, well-executed from start to finish.  It’s intense but also cathartic, and very much worth your time and money to go see.  Based on the size of the audience the night I was there, reservations are a good idea - the place was pretty packed. There’s four more chances this weekend to catch “Gut” at the Hive Collaborative (677 Hamline Avenue North, Saint Paul, MN 55104) - Thursday, Friday, and Saturday May 28 to 30, 2026 all at 7:30pm, closing on Sunday May 31st with a 2:30pm matinee.  Tickets available online here.

5 stars - Very Highly Recommended

(Photo, left to right, Morven (Elizabeth Desotelle) looks on as Maddy (Danielle Krivinchuk) tries to calm Rory (Nick Wolf) in “Gut” - photography by Molly Jay)

 

 

Review - The Hobbit - TRP - A Raucous Storytelling Exercise - 4 stars

Several times during the performance of The Hobbit at Theatre in the Round Players (TRP) I caught myself thinking, “This is a good Fringe show.”  Which is a compliment coming from me, but a bit out of place, since it’s not August and The Hobbit is more than twice as long as any Minnesota Fringe Festival show is permitted to be. But that was the frame of mind the production got me into as the night progressed, the spirit of the evening, if not the actual context. If you’re seeking out some inventive, light-hearted storytelling that conjures up a favorite old fantasy tale, then TRP has your ticket with The Hobbit.  If that’s all you need to know, you can probably skip the rest of the review and just go see the show.  The rest of this is just me trying to figure out what feels off to me personally for some reason, (and like the epic story of the evening, it does go on for a bit) and none of that detracts from the overall feeling The Hobbit is serving up.

“Some people are born to be heroes, but that’s not me.”

For the uninitiated, The Hobbit is the story of Bilbo Baggins (Isabelle Hopewell), the hobbit of the title, who is drafted by the wizard Gandolf (Win Froelich) to assist a roving band of 13 dwarfs in recovering the treasure of their former kingdom, now under the watchful eye of a dragon named Smaug. And there’s plenty of trolls and goblins and elves and other hazards they have to encounter along the way to the Lonely Mountain. (And before you ask, no, I don’t have a problem with female-identifying actors playing the roles of Bilbo and Gandolf.  They’re a hobbit and a wizard, fictional characters that don’t exist, and both actors do a fine job so the story gets everything it needs from them.  Absolutely no worries there.)

“A ring.  What’s it doing in the back of a cave?”

Director Scott Gilbert has assembled an ensemble of performers who all work well together to create the world and its many (MANY) characters. There’s also a three man band (Nathanial Brelsford, Derek Dirlam, and Sasha Rapacz) who preside over the colorful platform above an audience entrance stuffed to the gills with musical instruments both real and created out of junk to provide a score and accompaniment to the profusion of pseudo-drinking songs that pepper the narrative.  It’s not really a musical, and some songs serve to drive the story more than others, but the music does serve to keep everyone’s spirits bouyant, on stage and off.  Shout-out to the Poppen duo of Dietrich Poppen (composer) and Samuel Poppen (sound designer) for all their contributions.  The three musicians also double as additional supporting players throughout the evening.

“I know the smell and taste of dwarves and you stink of them!”

The input of Artistic Advisors (and noted clowns/physical theater/improvisors) Noah Bremer and Mark Benzel, and Movement Director Kelly Desiree (who’s also part of the dwarf/population of Middle Earth ensemble of actors) is most evident in big physical swings the production takes with things like the trolls - guys on stilts with spiky troll hair, plus great big butts on their costumes  - who capture and nearly eat the dwarves; and of course the dragon Smaug - who manifests first as an enormous puppet head that nearly gobbles up the stage space, then an actual hand puppet with wings that flies around the arena belching colored fabric as fire, and finally as a human with bolts of fabric for dragon wings - all inhabited by the very energetic Adam Iverson in his star turn for the night. Iverson also plays an equally bombastic dwarf (so many dwarf names, I think he’s Kili) who ends up at one point running around with Bilbo on his back for an extended chase scene so I’m sure he’s quite exhausted when the epic adventure concludes at the end of each performance.

“This is the key that opens the door in the mountain.”

Each actor plays so many roles that it’s sometimes hard to remember who did what, honestly.  Bryce Kalal, Troy Lowry, Jr., and Courtney Matula are the three actors I haven’t mentioned yet, not because they’re not memorable but just because like the cast, the play and this review, there’s a lot of ground to cover.  Kalal’s main role (among others) is that of the dwarf king Thorin, who leads his band of survivors back to their homeland to reclaim the treasure stolen by the dragon, and forms a reluctant alliance with Bilbo the hobbit that turns over time into one of mutual, though still suspicious, respect.  Thorin’s cape flips over to reveal a face so a stooped over Kalal can play a second dwarf as well when scenes require it.  And given my weakness with dwarf names, I just have notes tagging Lowry as the “nerdy dwarf in glasses” who always sides with Bilbo’s instincts on the journey. The roles do all start to blend together at a certain point but I believe Lowry also did a turn as Gollum and one of the trolls on stilts (forgive me if I’m mixing up my ensemble members - the program doesn’t have room to list everyone’s roster of characters).  Everyone is working very hard to keep this story rolling along and make each of their roles as distinct as possible.

“Pretty soon my entire house was crammed with gnomes.” 

Speaking of working hard to keep things rolling along, stage manager Dominic Detwiler, board operators Laura Doty (sound) and Scott Lohman (lights), assistant stage manager Stacy Kohout, and the backstage crew of Sarah Berg, Conner Carlson, and Grace Watkins, all have quite a task to pull off every night.  It’s a marathon of lights, sound, props and costumes and they run it well, giving the cast on stage all the support they need.

“They can only be seen when the moon shines behind them.”

Lighting designer Todd Reemtsma (assisted by Benji Mielke) does deceptively simple things that crank up the theater magic, like the choice to go with black light every time Bilbo puts on the ring and becomes invisible to the other actors onstage.  The return of normal light when they take the ring off again is a quick way to reset reality.  Also, the use of a shaft of light coming down from a door in back of the audience and streaming across the space to highlight its target is remarkably effective.  Lots of moods and places and passages of time swirl around in this story, and the light matches it scene by scene in fun and intriguing ways.

“It’s a bitter adventure that must end this way.”

Since J.R.R. Tolkien’s novel is coming up on its 90th birthday next year, and this adaptation was first commissioned from playwright Greg Banks by the Children’s Theatre Company here in Minneapolis and produced back in 2019, the story itself isn’t new but the presentation is.  I’m not really a Tolkien nerd so I don’t have any issues with liberties this adaptation may have taken (and I wouldn’t be able to point them out to you with any authority) in wrangling this sprawling story into a single evening’s two-act play.  (For instance, the only reason I recognized the reference to the Battle of the Five Armies is that it’s part of the backstory for the first film in the Lord of the Rings trilogy.). So I’m not objecting to anything here from the mindset of a purist in regard to the original text. (So, what is my problem?)

“Thank you for joining us on the 30th anniversary of.. The Incident.”

The conceit of this adaptation is that it’s a bit of a post-apocalyptic storytelling set-up.  Sort of like Anne Washburn’s 2012 script, Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play, in which survivors gather around the campfire to recount the story of the “Cape Fear” episode of The Simpsons.  Here, instead of Springfield, we have Middle Earth (though this production isn’t nearly as bleak or odd as Washburn’s play - which I also thoroughly enjoyed).  This adaptation projects 30 years into the future, in our case 2056, August 2nd - the 30 year anniversary of The Incident.  So we’ve got a couple of months, folks.  It’s a bit uncanny that this thing was first written and performed the year *before* the Covid-19 pandemic hit.  Theatre in the Round has been transformed into a ramshackle version of a community aid center by set designer Keven Lock (assisted by Ash Aurig and Nmi a literal army of a dozen set crew folks) and prop designer Elliott Van Winkle, The center even has shelves of food, to which audience members bringing food donations for the Coyle Center have their offerings added for the night.

“I am so sorry.  They do go on.”

Then, on top of this, there’s the additional bit of exposition that the traveling actors who are supposed to be performing The Hobbit - like it’s their contribution to society at large and this celebration in particular, perhaps it’s an annual thing they do to recognize the grim anniversary? At any rate, those actors were unable to make it to the community center for some reason, so the random assortment of people on stage will instead be performing The Hobbit because… they know the story and have some of the scripts and some of the props and… it’s honestly really confusing.  Why exactly? Why any of this?  Because, after the story of The Hobbit actually gets going, none of the post-apocalyptic, “we’re not really the actors” stuff ever gets referenced again.  It’s not a framing device the script circles back to.  It’s just a set of excuses to justify the “found objects” nature of the props and costumes (which is delightful, by the way, the audience just eats it up, it’s great fun).  Nobody actually has any challenges telling the story.  They’re all remarkably good at it.  And I don’t want them not to be.  I’m not here to see bad actors stumbling around, I’m here to see these good actors tell a story well - and they do.  So the set-up in the script is just there to give the director and designer team permission to go wild and not feel constrained by the source material to do a strictly Middle Earth accurate fantasy world.  Seems like a lot of unnecessary wheel-spinning, just get to the hobbit and dwarves, please.

“We’re on a mission for gold, not friendship.”

It’s impressive how well the cast gets the audience to play along by doing things like making “oohs” and “ahhs” and wolf sounds and even singing a line or two here and there.  Audience members help flesh out the roster of dwarves in key moments right from their seats, but audience members can also opt out of participating by just crossing their arms.  The big audience participation moment is, of course, the Battle of the Five Armies, for which each chunk of the audience is drafted into a different side of the battle.  Each side has its own ludicrous war cry, each side has a barrage of “weapons” such as shuttlecocks and stress balls that the different audience sections rain down upon the central stage space on command.  But when you tear down the fourth wall like this, then tone can sometimes be a challenge.  If the battle ends up being this silly, then the meaningful death of a major character (no spoilers) can be hard to take seriously.  If they’re wheeling around a corpse under a sheet, but it’s on a long metal cart like they use in hardware stores and scene shops, and the weapon the corpse’s hands are folded over to accompany them to their grave is… well, a hockey stick, then a little of the gravitas the moment might otherwise have had is lost.

“Eagle sounds!”

Here and there, there’s also a little of what I call “costume acting” and a little bit of “Minnesota humor acting.”  Costume acting is when there isn’t really a character, there’s just a hat or a wig or perhaps a fabulous dress standing in for a person.  (That’s not to knock with work of costume design coordinator Constance C. M’allowince or costume design contributor Hunter Goldsmith, or their costume crew listed in the program, of over two dozen people.  They’ve got a tall task to outfit this plethora of characters with their own distinct look.) And sometimes, with a canvas this broad and a character list this long, you need the visual shorthand, I get it.  But the big-butted trolls on stilts, for instance, had their own sense of character and relationships.  Whereas, particularly later in the action, there was a lot more “I’m putting on this cap so now I’m a goblin” going on.  Straddling the line between is someone striding on stage in a fabulous David Bowie-style wig from a very particular fantasy film, which a number of people in the audience recognized right away and started laughing.  But the actor had the attitude to go with the wig, so it worked.  Did we need the playwright to give them follow-up lines during a chase scene like “This place is a LABYRINTH!” or “It’s like working with MUPPETS”?  (OK, okay, we get it.)  Minnesota humor acting is mostly just the regional accent turned up to an 11 like we’re in the movie “Fargo” - and of course the inescapable use of the phrase “Uff-da.”  It’s a huge hit with the locals, but transplants like me can find it baffling.

“You will find your courage by morning.”
“We haven’t any time for the faint of heart.”

All that said, The Hobbit is still a really impressive group effort tackling a huge story and cast of characters and wrestling it down to just a two and a half hour run time (including the intermissions, so shorter than a lot of epic films playing in the same storytelling sandbox).  The Hobbit is a fun, ambitious change of pace for TRP, a raucous storytelling exercise that is sure to have something that entertains everyone.

The Hobbit can be found at Theatre in the Round Players (245 Cedar Avenue, Minneapolis, MN 55454) now through May 31, 2026.  Tickets available through theatreintheround.org.

4 Stars - Highly Recommended

(Poster art courtesy of Theatre in the Round Players)

 

Review - The Yeomen of the Guard - Gilbert & Sullivan Very Light Opera Company - A Musical Entertainment Full to Bursting - 4 stars

The Gilbert & Sullivan Very Light Opera Company has been doing their very particular brand of theater in the Twin Cities for quite a while now (since 1979) but up until last weekend it had been a sort of unchecked box on my theater dance card (even though I have an actor friend who regularly signs on to be part of GSVLOC’s very impressively sized chorus). But I got an invitation out of the blue through the contact page of my still very much in progress new website to come and see their latest production of Gilbert & Sullivan’s “The Yeomen of the Guard, or The Merryman and His Maid” and thought, “What the heck, let’s give it a try.”

“It is easier to die well than to live well.  I have tried both.”

This isn’t the first time the G&S Very Light Opera company has tackled “The Yeomen of the Guard.”  Since Gilbert & Sullivan’s repertoire is a little over a dozen operettas in total, the company has been able to rotate through all the titles a few times over across the decades.  “Yeomen” has been produced three times, but the last outing was over a dozen years ago.  And so, it’s back.  Each show is a major undertaking and GSVLOC doesn’t skimp on the scale of things.

“I might have married her with my eyes open.”:

Perhaps the most impressive thing about “The Yeomen of the Guard” is the size of the production itself.  There’s ten named characters just for starters, plus another half dozen key characters known for their vocation rather than their name (a confessor, an executioner known as The Headsman, First and Second Yeoman, etc.), then a chorus of 15 singing citizens, plus of a ten man chorus of brightly uniformed Yeomen of the Guard (shout-out to costume designer/wardrobe supervisor Bronson Talcott, they must be quite exhausted with so many period costumes to keep track of). And that’s just the people you can see.  There’s a whole hidden live orchestra tucked backstage, conducted by music director Randal A. Buikema (Now, they may rotate week to week depending on people’s availability or something, but they’re all listed in the program of course and there’s nearly 60 of them in all so… whether they’re all there at once or take turns, that’s a LOT of musicians.)

“Do they not say that a live ass is better than a dead lion?”

Now, what exactly are all these people in service of?  The Gilbert & Sullivan operettas (lighter, more comedic or satirical fare than your standard opera, with spoken as well as sung dialogue, sort of the middle ground between classical opera and American musical theater) are always full of romance and plot twists (almost giddily convoluted at times) and you can count on a happy ending for (almost) everybody when they’re done. “The Yeomen of the Guard, or the Merryman and His Maid” is no different (though perhaps slightly less well-known than their oft-produced titles like “The Pirates of Penzance” or “H.M.S. Pinafore” or even “The Mikado” - all of which have crossed my path in various forms over the years).

“There are one or two rules that all traveling fools must observe.”

This play is set on the grounds of the Tower of London in the time of King Henry VIII, which if you know any British history at all, you know that setting probably doesn’t bode well for the cast of characters (my knowledge of the time period is slim, but even I wondered, “How are we going to get a romantic musical comedy out of this?”) Fear not, dramatist W.S. Gilbert and composer Arthur Sullivan have plenty of mischief up their sleeves.

“Men may bleed and men may burn.”

Colonel Fairfax (Graham Remple) has been framed by a relative for the crime of sorcery (gasp) and for this he has been sentenced to death (hence the Tower of London setting). In order to screw this disloyal relative out of any potential inheritance, Fairax enlists the help of Sir Richard Cholmondeley (Eric Sorun) to quick find him a woman to marry so when his head gets chopped off, his newly minted widow will be very rich instead. The woman in question is the Maid of the subtitle, Elsie Maynard (Mary Kettlewell), a traveling singer who just happens to be passing through town at the time with her artistic partner, the Merryman of the subtitle, a traveling jester named Jack Point (Sam Vinitsky).  A quickie marriage to a doomed man, who she doesn’t even see during their offstage ceremony, certainly seems like a quicker way to riches than being a touring artist in the 1500s.

“He was to have died but he did not die - the scandal!”

But wait, there’s another plot afoot!  Fairfax, in his life of military battles, has saved his share of lives, one of them being that of Sergeant Meryll (Waldyn Benbenek), one of the titular Yeomen of the Guard, in this case guarding the Tower of London and all its prisoners.  With the help of his daughter Phoebe (Charlotte Smith), they steal the keys off the unsuspecting head jailer Wilfred Shadbolt (Trevor Woggon). Meryll also gets his son Leonard (Andrew Peterson) to lay low for a while out of town, and after they spring Fairfax from his cell, he “shaves off” his charming but incredibly fake beard and pretends to be Meryll’s son Leonard instead, taking up a new job with, you guessed it, the Yeomen of the Guard, following in his fake dad’s footsteps, keeping watch over the prison cells from which he just escaped.

“I didn’t become an assistant tormentor because I like tormenting.”

Will Fairfax blow his own cover by getting a little too close to his “sister” Phoebe? What will Elsie do now that she’s not the rich widow she expected to be? Will the unlikely alliance between Shadbolt, who has feelings for Phoebe, and Point, who yearns for his now inconveniently married costar Elsie, manage to land them the women they pine for, or will it just further complicate matters?  There’s a lot of singing, dancing and comedy going on before everything shakes out and people get their heart’s desire (well, most people anyway - when this romantic game of musical chairs reaches its end, someone will inevitably be left standing alone).

“When a jester goes a-wooing and he wishes he was dead.”

Stage director Gary Briggle and music director Buikema ably manage the impressive task of wrangling over 40 people onstage (plus dozens of musicians offstage) through the wild sprint of all that music and a thicket of clever lyrics. Like most Gilbert & Sullivan operettas, the story is peppered with a combination of large cast musical numbers as well as solos, duets, trios and quartets full of gorgeous harmonies that show off all these powerful, talented voices in the cast to great effect.  We also get a full-on overture that allows the orchestra to take the spotlight, while characters come and go across the expanse of Michael Hoover’s spectacular set, and Carl Schoenborn’s lights get to play across the space as the overture moves from one melody to the next.

“The journey many gallant hearts have taken.”

Given the sprawling scope of the production, it was often little touches that made me realize just how much the people care when putting this show together.  For instance, the pre-show announcement to turn off your cell phones? They’ve got a whole comedic Gilbert & Sullivan-esque mini-song (lyrics from citizen chorus member Holly Windle) performed by the black clad executioner (Mike Tober) ax in hand, backed up by a couple of the Yeomen of the Guard with the subtext of “don’t make me come out there” if someone forgets to turn off their ringer. Also the opening moments of music in the play before the first song really kicks in, have this swirling quality to them, so someone thought, “Hey, let’s get these two ladies a spinning wheel and have the spinning match to the music” so props designer Christine Keller went out and found a functional spinning wheel (?!) for the purpose of that moment. Doesn’t have a larger impact on the plot of the play, but the attention to detail is admirable.  And kudos to the stage management team of Kevin Lindee and assistants Taryn Shucha and Brianna Sullivan (no relation?) - it’s a mighty feat to keep the many moving parts of this thing going and the whole production flows remarkably well.

“Phoebe”
“Who should she be?”
“Your sister.”

If you need a light-hearted distraction for a couple of hours in these very strange days we’re all living through, “The Yeomen of the Guard” might be just the escape you need.

The Gilbert & Sullivan Very Light Opera Company’s production of “The Yeoman of the Guard” runs now through Sunday, March 29, 2026 at the Conn Theater at Plymouth Congregational Church (1900 Nicollet Avenue South, in Minneapolis).  The show runs Friday and Saturday evenings at 7:30pm with matinees on Saturdays and Sundays at 2pm. (Ticket availability is already limited for one of those matinees so get your reservations in soon if you’re interested.) Tickets can be purchased through their website: gsvloc.org

4 Stars - Highly Recommended 

 

[photo (left to right): Jack Point (kneeling, Sam Vinitsky), Phoebe (Charlotte Smith), Elsie (Mary Kettlewell) and Fairfax (Graham Remple) in the Gilbert & Sullivan Very Light Opera Company’s production of “The Yeomen of the Guard” - photography by Stephen Hage] 

 

Review - The Cake - TRP - A Slightly Lopsided Confection - 4 stars

The latest new play offering from Theatre in the Round Players, The Cake, by Bekah Brunstetter, is a romantic comedy/drama about four people (plus a baking show host) each in their own way coming to terms with an adorably awkward lesbian wedding.  All of that is to say this production should be right in my wheelhouse.  (And I’m loving all the new and new-ish plays that TRP is bringing to the Twin Cities of late.) So why don’t I like this particular production more than I do?  That’s the question I’ve been puzzling over ever since I saw The Cake.

“See, what you have to do is really, truly follow the directions.”

It’s certainly not a failing on the part of the cast, all five of whom are game for all the laughs as well as the angst in the story.  Natavia  Lewis as Macy, and Via Logan as Jen make for a charming couple of brides to be. Jenny Ramirez as Della the baker, and D’aniel Stock as Tim the plumber make a very convincing middle-aged married couple. And Kjer Whiting is suitably wacky and unhinged as George, the host of the baking competition show that haunts Della’s nightmares.

“She can’t not love, which is really annoying.”

It’s also not the fault of the production team, who go all out to create this world.  Director Jennie Ward, assisted by Intimacy Director H. Ashley, gets great performances from the two couples, who we see a lot of in the bedroom in scenes that are by turns sweet, hot, funny and sometimes uncomfortable. (Butter cream frosting and mashed potatoes will never be the same again.) Ward also doubles as Sound Designer, assembling a pre-show song list with everything from Ethel Merman’s rendition of “If I Knew You Were Coming I’d Have Baked A Cake” to Melanie Martinez’s “I’m Not A Piece of Cake” to get the mood of the evening off to a lively start. 

“We wanted to do it in the fall, while fall is still a thing, which isn’t much longer.”

Set Designer Keven Lock, assisted by Ash Aurig, plus the work of Prop Designer PJ Graber, creates the bright pink world of the bakery Della’s Sweets where nearly all of the non-bedroom action takes place. The bakery display cases turn out to be on wheels so the set ends up being a lot more versatile than you expect on first glance at the start of the evening. There’s also some inventive prop work where instead of actual cooking ingredients, which could leave a mess, the baked goods in process at Della’s bakery are manifested using bolts of colorful and sparkly cloth. It’s a great theatrical flourish. Lighting Designer Todd Reemtsma reinforces the reality (or unreality) of any given location as the story moves from place to place, and gives a lovely romantic look to the oddball wedding procession.

“Because the world is gonna change, but we cannot.”

Costume Designer Emma Shook gets a chance to really go for broke with this script and she takes it. The most over-the-top entries includes bakery show host George’s looks, which get progressively more outlandish as the evening progresses, and the spectacular bridal outfit for Jen, complete with headpiece, LONG train, and so many lights, befitting a woman of whom her partner Macy says, “You get weird in craft stores.”  Kudos to Stage Manager Indigo Cabanela-Leiseth and assistant Taylor Koehler for keeping the whole thing moving so smoothly from location to location, from normal scene to bakery show nightmares.
 
“I don’t respect these people.”
“I’m one of them.”
“No, you’re not.”

The playwright Bekah Brunstetter also has quite a career going in both TV writing and theater. The script for The Cake alone has been produced over 80 times, and she’s currently got commissions to write plays for four major regional theaters around the country.

“Would it even be a wedding if someone wasn’t mad at somebody?”

But the more I think about it, the more I think the fault here is with the play itself, not the production. The Cake has a great set-up. Jen comes to Della’s bakery because Della and Jen’s late mother were best friends. Della and her husband Tim were never able to conceive children, so it feels like Jen was in some ways the daughter Della never had. Jen’s return to the bakery is to ask Della to bake the wedding cake for Jen and Macy’s ceremony. But Della’s conservative Christian values cause her to hesitate. Another complication is this story is set in North Carolina, and Macy is African American. Just for good measure, Della is trying to rekindle the fire in her marriage bed, but Tim’s a bit uneasy with intimacy since he learned his sperm are the reason they can’t have kids of their own. So everyone’s comfort levels are a little off kilter.

“It tasted like the back of my mouth after a good cry.”

The Cake has a lot of great scenes, a lot of funny one-liners, and a big helping of earnest discussions and honest arguments. The uplifting thing is that these four unsettled people do all realize they love one another, and that helps them, to varying degrees, push through their discomfort and reconnect. It just doesn’t get to that end point without taking unexpected shortcuts.  Which is odd, because the run time isn’t short (at a little over two hours) but it still feels like some things are missing. Also, it’s a bit lopsided and I’m not entirely sure why. The first act is listed in the program as being 80 minutes and the second act as 30 minutes. The night I saw it, the first act was more like 90 minutes and the second act more like 20 minutes. And the audience wasn’t sure at first when intermission arrived that the first act was actually over. It just kept going scene after scene and we all thought this might be yet another transition, but no, house lights came up.  So the end of the first act, long as it is, isn’t entirely obvious.  The break could have come a few scenes before that and the flow of the story would still be fine.

“This cake is full of angel saliva and good deeds.”

As it was, we left the first act after a pretty major fight between Jen and Macy that could well have led to the marriage being called off, plus Della and Tim had a very awkward non-sexual encounter that seemed equally hard to bounce back from. Then in the second act, if my notes aren’t failing me, there are just four scenes. Jen and Della have a scene, Della and Tim have a scene, Jen and Macy unexpectedly get married anyway, in a pantomime set to music, no dialogue (so I guess that huge argument at the end of act one wasn’t such a big deal after all?), and then Macy swings by to have a chat with Della, in which she tells her among other things that she and Jen made up because Jen told Macy about that top of act two conversation with Della and… that solved everything? offstage? unseen? and they had a lot of other issues that couldn’t be solved by a simple Jen/Della conversation.  But hey, the play needs to be over and fast, so the lesbians don’t get a heart to heart reconciliation scene, but the straight couple does?  That feels… like a weird choice for a super short second act.

“It’s not natural.”
“Neither is confectioner’s sugar.”

Also, though the baking show nightmare scenes are certainly theatrical, they don’t seem necessary to the plot, or even Della’s character development.  They happen a lot throughout act one and then they just… stop.  They don’t lead anywhere.  They also have a pretty harsh, misogynistic tone to them.  Now, you can say, oh it’s just Della putting herself down, but the way it’s staged, it feels like the author putting Della down. Again, Kjer Whiting is fabulous in executing the role. I’m just not sure what the character is doing for the story.

“Could you please put your clothes back on?  I’ve had a long day.”

But again, over 80 productions of The Cake and counting, one of them off-Broadway, so what do I know?  Your mileage may vary.

“Us, walking toward each other.”

My own qualms aside, it’s still a great cast and great production team delivering a production with a lot of heart, and forgiveness, and growth, as human beings find a way to connect beyond their differences - and we could definitely use a big dose of that right about now.

“Guess I thought I was gonna do something great with my life.”

If you’re looking for a play with a positive vibe that doesn’t talk down to any of its characters or dismiss their worldview but instead tries to understand all sides in an effort to bring them together, then TRP has your ticket with The Cake. (No, I will not be making any “cut yourself off a slice” jokes.)

The Cake runs at Theatre in the Round Players (245 Cedar Avenue, Minneapolis, MN 554554) through March 15, 2026.  Tickets are available through their website.

4 Stars - Highly Recommended

 

Review - Red - Gremlin Theatre - Just All-Around Great Theater - 5 stars

It’s hard to know how best to praise Gremlin Theatre’s production of John Logan’s play RED, because it’s a winner from all angles. I could start by saying go for the performances from the two actors, Pearce Bunting and Ben Shaw, because they’re great. I could start by saying go for the direction by Ellen Fenster-Gharib, because she handles a tricky balancing act brilliantly. I could start by saying go for the script by Logan, which won the Tony Award for Best Play back in 2010, and I can totally see why (even though it had some really stiff competition that year, all of which I’ve seen productions of before, so RED’s been taking a while to catch up with me - my pick probably would have been Sarah Ruhl’s “In The Next Room (or The Vibrator Play)” but Donald Marguiles’ “Time Stands Still” is an equally impressive option, and though Geoffrey Nauffts’ “Next Fall” drives me crazy, even I have to admit it has its moments).

“I am here to stop your heart.”

RED is John Logan’s fictionalized version of the story behind artist Mark Rothko (Pearce Bunting)’s commission to create a series of murals to decorate the famed Four Seasons restaurant in the new Seagram Building on Park Avenue in New York back in the late 1950s. Logan creates an eager new assistant for Rothko, named Ken (Ben Shaw), who is partly an audience surrogate bringing us into the world of Rothko’s painting studio, giving Rothko a handy excuse (and captive audience of one) to expound on his process and the world in general. Since plays tend to revolve around conflict, you won’t be surprised to hear that the execution of the sprawling art project doesn’t exactly go as planned, or that Ken’s patience as an awestruck apprentice does eventually reach its limit.

“Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?”
“They’re just paintings.”

RED is that rare bird, a two-person play that’s actually good. Logan nimbly avoids the downfall of many a two-person play, where the hand of the author is all too evident, trying desperately to keep all other potential characters in the world off stage in a way that doesn’t quite make sense, and so all the seams are showing. Here, in RED, you understand why these are the only two people that exist in this room. The play, and this production, also do a great job of creating the sense of an outside world we never see.  There is life beyond that offstage door we hear slam shut, announcing someone’s arrival. We sense people on the other end of the phone calls made on the art studio’s yellow, paint-spattered (rotary) phone mounted on a pole by the hot plate where Rothko and Ken stir up pigment and eggs to create just the right shades of color. Rothko conjures a society full of artists, old and new, some of whom he respects or pities, some of whom he has no patience for. Even if this wasn’t based on a real person and things that actually happened, I’d still believe the storytellers because of how well the world is realized.

“This moment right now, and a little bit tomorrow.”

Pearce Bunting was a key part of the ensemble of the best play I saw last year (and the best play that’s been on the Guthrie Theater stage in ages), "Primary Trust," so I wasn’t at all surprised by how great he is in the role of the artist Mark Rothko.  Rothko can often be an insufferable son of a bitch, and he’s a terrible employer (pity poor Ken), but Bunting always manages to give him just enough of a sliver of humanity and vulnerability to keep us from declaring him a complete monster.  Rothko never pretends to be any nicer than he is, so it’s not as if he didn’t warn Ken, and the audience, from the moment the play starts that he’s going to be difficult to like. Art about artists is hard to pull off, but here the playwright and the actor make the notion of art specific to this man’s personality. Rothko’s artistic mission and sense of self are inseparable. So his art having meaning and value and staying power is vitally important to him as a person. That’s why he’s so intense and unforgiving - because he knows the art world is even more unforgiving, and he’s struggling to stay one step ahead of becoming irrelevant.

“When the blood dried, it got darker on the carpet.”

Since I still vividly remember the experience of watching Theatre Coup d’Etat’s "The Rogue Prince" back in 2019 and Orchard Theater Collective’s "Saint Joan" in 2020 (right before the pandemic shut everything down), I came to RED already clued in to Ben Shaw’s skills as both an actor (Prince) and director (Joan). The idea of Shaw in a two-person show with Bunting promised to be delightful, and Shaw’s take on Ken did not disappoint. Ken brings the outside world (and the changing times) into Rothko’s sanctuary, which is one of the reasons Rothko can get a bit prickly around his assistant. Ken also has artistic ambitions (and secrets) of his own, of course, but this is no tired “the student becomes the master” plotline. The play, the actors, and the director are all a lot subtler and cleverer than that. Sarah Bauer’s costumes for Ken help us to track the passage of time through his evolution and level of comfort in the studio and what clothes he chooses to work in.

“Sending a blind child into a room full of razor blades.”

Bauer’s additional work on props - from that rotary phone to Rothko’s phonograph and vinyl record collection and all those painting supplies - gives RED its grounding in a previous century and helps flesh out the details of Carl Schoenborn’s wonderfully cluttered and lived-in art studio set.  (And because apparently she doesn’t have enough to do on this production, Bauer is also the stage manager - phew!) Schoenborn also works his magic on the lights (I should expect this of his work by now, of course). There are uses of light and shadow both everyday (in the discussion of finding the right light in which to view a painting) and otherworldly (the play’s highly saturated and colorful final moments). Given how important music is to Rothko’s artistic process, Aaron Newman’s work on sound design is just as integral to this production.

“I was totally saturated.  It swallowed me.”

Ellen Fenster-Gharib’s work as director is key to making this whole evening cohere together.  All these talents need someone to look at the bigger picture and guide them and Fenster-Gharib serves this role perfectly. As my theatergoing companion pointed out, the director isn’t afraid to let the actors just be still or exist in moments of silence, or trust that even with their back to one side of the three-sided thrust house, an actor will be conveying what’s going on in the scene.  Fenster-Gharib knows she’s cast two actors who can act just as (or even more) effectively when turned away from an audience than a great many actors do when you can see their full faces. Just like the paintings Rothko seeks to create, Bunting and Shaw are in motion (and full of e-motion) the more you watch them, even when they’re standing or sitting still. 

“Most of painting is thinking.  10 percent is putting paint on canvas.  The rest is waiting.”

And there’s just something really thrilling about the theatricality built into this production of RED, where the two actors staring out through the invisible fourth wall at each side of the audience are looking intently at paintings we never see. Yet in the faces of these two actors, we can sense what those paintings are doing to the viewer. Also, the details of the work of creating art - sanding down the frame for an enormous canvas, stapling down the corners and sides of yet another large canvas, then hanging it up on a rolling wall and watching the two artists paint a base coat of red on that canvas, all in time to a piece of classical music that becomes by turns a competition and a dance. It’s the kind of experience only a live performance can offer. RED offers these kind of moments in scene after scene throughout the evening.

If you’re looking for a solid, well-executed piece of theater from top to bottom, RED at Gremlin is your ticket.

Gremlin Theatre’s production of John Logan’s play RED runs through Sunday, March 1, 2026 in their space at 550 Vandalia Street, Suite 177, St. Paul, MN 55114. Wednesdays through Saturdays at 7:30pm, Sundays at 3pm. Tickets are available through their website.

5 stars - Very Highly Recommended

(Photo (l to r): Pearce Bunting as Rothko and Ben Shaw as Ken in RED; photography by Allysa Kristine Photography)

 

 

Review - How To Catch Creation - TRP - Perfect Fit for the Moment Right Now - 4.5 stars

It’s a little eery how perfect Theatre in the Round Players’ production of Christina Anderson’s play “How To Catch Creation” is for this particular moment in the life of Minneapolis. Anderson’s play is full of humor and heart, telling the story of three pairs of seemingly random people who end up so tightly interconnected across generations (and even time) that they keep bouncing off each other in different combinations which reveal more about each of them with each passing scene.  The same could be said of the script itself, collectively adding up to so much more than any one of the interwoven plotlines on its own.  “How To Catch Creation” is about how people find a way to love and a way to dream, even in a world that seems hostile to both.

“I think I want to have a kid.”

Griffin (Duck Washington) wants to raise a child as a single man who’s rebuilt his life after being exonerated and released from prison, but not before being incarcerated for 25 years for a crime he didn’t commit. He is understandably skittish around the legal system after his earlier experiences with it but is trying to push through the red tape and expenses involved in the options of either adoption or surrogacy.  Griffin’s best friend and support system Tami (Tia Tanzer) is an art professor trying to reconnect with the inspirations that drove her own painting in the aftermath of an abusive relationship. 

“Our collective liberation can be achieved when we eradicate oppression against Black women.”

Stokes (Noah Branch) has been trying unsuccessfully to gain admittance to the art school where Tami teaches, but the acquisition of a box of used books all written by a noted black feminist author of the 1960s begins to redirect his creative impulses toward fiction.  Stokes’ partner Riley (Izzy Maxwell) tries running interference for her boyfriend with art school admissions, which may just be a convenient way to redirect her own divided focus between her computer science career and after hours musical impulses.

“My duties stop at any fluid exchange.”

Meanwhile, back in the 1960s, that black feminist author G.K. Marche (Mary Cannon) is on a creative hot streak conjuring one novel after another, but that doesn’t leave a lot of time to give her partner Natalie (Lyreshia Ghostlon-Green) the attention she needs.  Natalie’s loneliness leads to a connection with Thom (Abdoulie Ceesay) which has ripple effects that impact the lives of Griffin, Tami, Stokes and Riley in present day 2014 San Francisco.

“Did you tell him about your study abroad?”
“Yes, I told him I did time.”

To say any more would spoil the surprises of this play, of which there are many.  It’s a regular Dickensian puzzle box the way the whole thing ties together, and that’s a big part of the fun of this production, skillfully directed by Vanessa Brooke Agnes (with backup on intimacy direction from James Grace, who had a lot of ground to cover).  And, fair warning, let’s just say that this play was a lot queerer and messier than I was expecting when I took my seat (and I mean that as a compliment).

“She was filled with smoldering ash.”

Kejia Yu’s set design, Mark Kieffer’s lighting design, and Christy C. Johnson’s sound design all help the play to move swiftly from one short, snappy scene to the next, and Jacourtney Mountain-Bluhm’s costumes and Rachel Glotter Snitzer’s props help to ground us in what decade we’re in as the story moves back and forth in time.  The world created by this production team allows the talented ensemble of actors to move seamlessly from one encounter to the next, crossing paths on stage and even crossing timelines by sharing space together.  It’s the kind of trick that only live theater can pull off with this kind of impact on an audience.  (Kudos to stage manager Katie Dismang and her assistant Indigo Cabanela-Leiseth for keeping the whole thing running smoothly as the many different spinning plates that are the elements of this play I’m sure are no easy trick to keep aloft.)

“You rest your heart in the messiest rooms of the most troubled homes.”

My only quibbles with the play center on the desire to know just a little bit more about all the characters through their work.  We get just hints of G.K. Marche’s prose, and no reveal of the content of Stokes’ foray into fiction writing.  Similarly both Stokes’ and Tami’s finished paintings don’t get unveiled to the audience, even though there are a number of framed works of art hanging around the space which had the potential to give us a taste of their visual style (one painting is tagged as the work of Tami’s ex, but we don’t get a clear indication that any of the other paintings are part of the portfolio of Tami herself or Stokes).  We get a little more of Riley’s work creating beats, but that, too, could have further unfolded for us.  Art can tell you a lot about the artist character, whether it reinforces our understanding of who they are, or reveals a contrast or another side to them.  It also can be used to reinforce the larger themes of the play.

“What happens when your luck runs out?”

And though I like Griffin’s character a lot, I didn’t come away with a clear idea of what exactly he does for a living and how that is part of the legacy he wants to leave behind, having gotten a second chance at life. I’m a bit more torn on this count because one of the things I really like about the play is that it’s not spoon-feeding us chunks of clunky exposition.  We just learn about characters in conversation with one another, and we’re left to fill in some of the blanks ourselves, just like we do when we first meet and are getting to know any new person.  While we get a clear picture, with vivid examples, of just how Griffin’s encounters with the law when he was younger still cast a long shadow over his life and future plans in the present, I still found myself wanting just a little more information on what drives him and how he fills his days (apart from his quest for parenthood).

“You deserve to be left.  I needed to leave.”

All that, ultimately, is just me wanting more of these characters and their world, which is always a good place for a play to be leaving me (wanting more not less). That’s due not just to the strong script, but also the great performances from the whole cast who turned their characters into real, fully fleshed out human beings that I wanted to know better. I’m still so glad (and impressed) that TRP found this play and decided to take a chance on it.  It’s great to see new, entertaining work with something to say get a platform like this.  If you’re looking for a change of pace in your theater diet, give “How To Catch Creation” a try.  You won’t regret it.

“It’s a sheet to take notes in case I meet someone who has the answers.”

Theatre in the Round Players’ production of Christina Anderson’s “How To Catch Creation” runs through February 8, 2026 (Fridays & Saturdays at 7:30pm, Sundays at 2:00pm) at TRP’s seven corners home at 245 Cedar Avenue in Minneapolis.

4.5 stars - Very Highly Recommended

 

 

Review - Plano - Third Space Theater - A Wacky, Vaguely Menacing Rollercoaster of a Play - 5 stars

Sometimes it’s hard to write about the great ones.  Third Space Theater’s production of Will Arbery’s play “Plano” is so much fun I was actually giddy watching it.  “Plano” made me excited about the potential of theater to tackle big subjects with humor at high velocity.  The audience was laughing, a lot, and then got on their feet to applaud when it was over.  “Plano” is one of those plays that you’ll kick yourself for missing because everyone who sees it raves about it.  So don’t be left out, go catch the production while you’ve still got the chance.

“We’ll talk about it later.  It’s later.  Merry Christmas!”

What is “Plano” about?  Everything.  Also it’s about 90 minutes long.  It’s also about the absurdity of life, even though we have very little choice other than to keep living it, and perhaps try to be slightly less ridiculous in doing so if we can - though that is certainly easier said than done.

“Just don’t become a nun.”
“You’re too hot.”

Anne (Stephanie Kahle), Genevieve (Hannah Leatherbarrow), and Isabel (Mariabella Sorini) are sisters collectively trying to make their way through life in a small Texas town. The play begins with Anne sharing the good news that she’s fallen in love with a guy named John (actually Juan) (Samuel Osborne-Huerta), introduced him to the family, married him and given birth to their child together.  This is all in one conversation that keeps leapfrogging ahead in time on Genevieve’s front porch.  

“I don’t get it. You had sex with a manual laborer?”

In similar fashion, also in the same opening conversation, Genevieve’s husband Steve (Ben Qualley) shares the unfortunate news that Juan is gay and probably just using Anne to get a green card.  But then Steve also might be having an affair that will lead to the break up of his own marriage, so he hardly has room to criticize other people’s relationships.  Anne isn’t entirely surprised by the news, since Juan frequently leaves to go to Plano, Texas, a mysterious destination where all manner of things can happen. 

“There’s an intern, and our marriage won’t last the year.”

Also in this same conversation, Isabel announces that she won’t be completing her college education but instead is taking her religious convictions and desire to do good works to get out there in the world and start helping others, in Chicago. 

“Do you think the slugs might be some sort of spiritual metaphor?”

Oh, and did i forget to mention the faceless ghost (Michael Hundevad) who starts the evening hanging out on the porch during the pre-show acoustic guitar set by co-director Em Adam Rosenberg, and then keeps wandering off, then reappearing in unexpected places? 

“Now I’m looking at my garage where I still have all my ideas for songs.”

The sisters’ mother Mary (Jennifer D'Lynn) also makes a special guest appearance late in the action, just when you might have reached the conclusion that all the various permutations of different pairings and interactions onstage with the current ensemble couldn’t get any stranger.

“You’re so bad at conversation I want to strangle you.”

There are cowboys dancing together.  There’s an infestation of slugs.  There’s slow motion choreographed violence that gets progressively more absurd as the fight continues and ultimately devolves into a sort of family interpretative dance.  There’s people who are constantly not quite present.  There’s people who should go away but continue to haunt every corner of the house.  There’s people that disappear into or pop up out of crawl spaces.  And all the while this ensemble cast is latching onto the torrent of words that make up Arbery’s wild script and riding the thing like the wacky, vaguely menacing rollercoaster that it is.

“People sigh when your name comes up.  Your name has a smelly loneliness about it.”

“Plano” is about how people are essentially unknowable, whether we’re related to them by blood, love or the bonds of friendship. But life is other people, so we have to find a way to co-exist, and help get each other through the weird stuff.  The sisterly bond between Anne, Genevieve, and Isabel helps them get through a lot (even as men, and mothers, come and go).

“You’re just the ground we walk on to get where we’re going.”

The cast is fantastic. Co-directors Alex Church and Em Adam Rosenberg keep the pace of the comedy crackling along at a rapid clip, even as the plentiful laughs start mining darker subject matter. (This doesn’t come as a surprise because the three sisters - Kahle, Leatherbarrow and Sorini - were all part of the ensemble of Third Space Theater’s award-winning hit 2025 Fringe show “Breach” (another show that if you missed it, you’re kicking yourself right now). Sorini also co-wrote “Breach” with Church, while Rosenberg was another member of the “Breach” ensemble, and all five of them are the core company of Third Space. So they’ve got their style of collaborating down at this point already, and it shows with the results here in “Plano.”)  The comedy never goes completely black, though, always taking an unexpected pivot and rebounding into the light from any number of shadowy corners.  The underlying mood can get sad, but is always resilient.  Genevieve’s front porch is a strange and funny melancholy place to spend an hour and a half ping-ponging through the three sisters’ lives.

“A tiny world without end we keep in a box.”

Big shout-out needs to go to the design team as well.  Olivia von Edeskuty’s set design is a marvel.  Perhaps it’s a commentary on the sad economics of theater these days, but it’s rare to see a full-on set from a smaller theater company.  Here, though, we’ve got a full outer front porch, and inner porch leading to the front door of Genevieve’s home, plus a big red wooden fence on either side, and that aforementioned crawl space which gives the cast any number of ways to appear and disappear in ways that both do and don’t make logical sense, to keep everybody in the audience on their toes. And the cast really gives this set a workout, so kudos to set builders Roman Block, Elena Carlson, and Sydney Foss for making it such a sturdy base of operations. 

“The one who made us is coming back a stranger.”

The directors also make full use of the Alan Page Auditorium at Mixed Blood Theatre, which makes for a fun time in a world so broad and deep. All of that means that lighting designer Jackson Funke (assisted by Joshua Fisher) has a lot of ground to cover, and cover it he does, creating all kinds of different looks and spaces in this world as things seem to start out realistic and get progressively stranger.  Sam Faye King’s sound design adds the final layers of reality and unreality to this odd world the sisters live in. Olivia von Edeskuty is also the stage manager on the production (assisted by Aren Sondrol) and manages to keep this surreal family comedy/drama barreling along from start to finish with nary a hiccup in the process. No small feat.

“It’s later.”
“No it’s not, it’s still now.”

Third Space Theater is quickly becoming a company that regularly cranks out one unmissable production after another, which is a high but worthy bar for any group of artists to set for themselves.  They believe in the power of the shared experience of theater, and they’ll make you a believer, too.  Go see “Plano” and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.

Third Space Theater’s production of “Plano” runs through this Sunday January 18, 2026 at the Mixed Blood Theatre - Monday 1/12, Thursday 1/15, Friday 1/16, and Saturday 1/17 at 7:30pm, and Sunday 1/18 at 2pm.

5 Stars - Very Highly Recommended

(Photos: Top: Mother Mary (Jennifer D'Lynn) with daughters at her feet, (l-r) Genevieve (Hannah Leatherbarrow), Isabel (Mariabella Sorini) and Anne (Stephanie Kahle), in “Plano” from Third Space Theater

Middle: Dancing cowboys Juan (Samuel Osborne-Huerta), the Faceless Ghost (Michael Hundevad) and Steve (Ben Qualley) in “Plano” from Third Space Theater

Photos by Lydia Frank)