Review - Blithe Spirit - TRP - Refuses to Give Up the Ghost - 3 stars

It’s fine.  I know that sounds like I’m damning with faint praise but the production isn’t really the problem.  If you’re in the mood for a production of Noel Coward’s comedy Blithe Spirit then Theatre in the Round Players (TRP) is offering one.

“You won’t die.  You’re not the dying sort.”

The plot of Blithe Spirit does have a lot of twists and turns which it’s best not to spoil but here’s the basic premise: Charles Condomine (James Lane) and his (second) wife Ruth (Megan Blakeley) have the local doctor George Bradman (David Rinzema) and his wife Violet (Lori Constable) over for dinner along with a special guest, the town eccentric Madame Arcati (Janice Stone), who gathers them after dinner as requested for a seance to contact spirits in the afterlife.  Charles doesn’t believe in any of this, he’s just doing research for a new book project.  So imagine his surprise when the seance works and Madame Arcati conjures up the spirit of Charles’ late first wife Elvira (Dani Pazurek) - who only he can see and converse with.  Elvira now has no intention of leaving, and in fact begins scheming different ways to snatch Charles back from his new wife Ruth. Circling around the edges of all this action is the Condomines’ bumbling maid Edith (Hailey Zeissler), who’s always a bit on edge and easily traumatized by the supernatural goings on, and ends up being a bit more key to the resolution of things than one might expect.

“Next time we must really put our backs into it!”

The play has Noel Coward’s signature wit and comedy stylings, and the whole cast under Dann Peterson’s direction does a good job of keeping all the shenanigans moving right along.  In his director’s note, Peterson harkens back the play’s origins in 1941, during World War II, written as a comic trifle to allow folks to have a laugh and take their mind off the concerning world events around them in those days, if only for the run time of the play.  Certainly we can also use such distractions today as well.

“We have no guarantee that the afterlife will be any less exasperating than this one.”

I recall being similarly unengaged by a production of Blithe Spirit at the Guthrie Theater back in 2018 though it was hard to put my finger on the reason why.  Seeing the play more up close in Theatre in the Round’s intimate arena made my issues with the play come into sharper focus.  The short answer is that I don’t much like the characters.  As the play continues, nearly everyone on stage reveals themselves to be quite unpleasant, mostly in the way they treat the other people (or ghosts) around them.  So it may still be easy to laugh, but it’s hard for me to care.  The play starts with four of the characters chuckling behind Madama Arcati’s back, thinking she’s a loon and a fraud.  And when Arcati turns out to be right, characters then turn to her for help with their spooky problems but continue to berate her if she can’t instantly solve them in a way that’s most convenient for them.

“I threw off the sponge instead of throwing down the gauntlet.”

There is a nod to the notion of grief, and holding on to the memory of a loved one who is gone.  But the play doesn’t really dwell on it, particularly when the dead keep popping back up again.  Because it’s a comedy, the play doesn’t take anything seriously, which is both its strength and its weakness, since it clearly does want us to care about certain things, even as it undercuts them.  And speaking of undercutting, there’s a string of revelations of infidelity by both Charles and Elvira late in the action that makes it challenging to find any rooting value in either character, particularly Charles.  It feels like the play wants the audience to take it all as lighthearted fun but… I didn’t.

“You don’t even allow me to have a hallucination when I want to.”

The production looks and sounds great.  Thomas L. Valach’s set design makes great use of the TRP space and gives the cast an environment with a lot of character in which to play out the story, and prop designer Rick Polenek populates the space with great details and throwback items like the couple’s tea and liquor service and non-mobile phone.  John A. Woskoff’s costumes on all the characters give us an immediate sense of period.  Mark Kieffer’s lighting accents the ghostly goings on and sets the mood.  The sound design by Warren Sampson (assisted by Tatum Evans) incorporates many of Noel Coward’s own songs during and between scenes in fun ways (I was particularly amused by the way songs would get cut off by the clock chiming to kick us into the next scene.). And it must be fun for stage manager Matthew Wilhelm and assistant Grace Watkins to set off all the special effects in the second half of the evening when the spirits get down to business moving the furniture and shaking different parts of the house until they start coming apart.

“I do wish you wouldn’t be facetious with the servants, Charles.  It confuses them and undermines morale.”

It’s a well-executed production of Blithe Spirit so I’m fully prepared to admit that maybe this play just isn’t for me.  After all, I did quite enjoy another Noel Coward offering at the Guthrie of Kneehigh Theatre’s production of Brief Encounter - though that whimsical multimedia meditation was based on a much more serious exploration of two strangers embarking on an extramarital affair, so I think that made it easier for me to engage.  Even though that happened back in 2010, I still think about it and can recall specific moments, so a production of Noel Coward can stick with me if it hits just right, and that has as much to do with the underlying material as the production.

“They’re only ghost tears.  They don’t mean anything really.  But they’re painful.”

Blithe Spirit runs through July 12, 2026 at Theatre in the Round Players (245 Cedar Avenue, Minneapolis).  Tickets are available on their website.  If you need a laugh and want to get out of the house, TRP has a show for you.

3 stars - Recommended

 

 

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 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 - 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 - The Murder on the Links - TRP - Another Agatha Christie Puzzle Box - 3 stars

Everybody seems to love a good murder mystery.  And every theater who puts one on stage, be it Theatre in the Round or the Guthrie, doesn’t have much of a problem selling tickets. I myself regularly devoured the works of Agatha Christie when I was younger and have quite a collection of her novels on my bookshelves.  “The Murder on the Links” was an older story I was less familiar with, though it features one of her beloved, quirky detectives on the case, Hercule Poirot. So if “Agatha Christie murder mystery with Hercule Poirot” is all you need to know that it’s the ticket for you, then you should get over to Theatre In The Round Players (TRP) and take in their production of Kate Danley’s adaptation of “The Murder On The Links.”  Nothing I say in the rest of this review should dissuade you.  If you need a little more information, then read on.

“I just adore crime.”

The pre-show announcement to the audience informed us the production of “Agatha Christie’s The Murder on the Links” is the world premiere of Danley’s adaptation (TRP also staged her adaptation of “The Mysterious Affair at Styles” just a couple of years back).  “Styles” was Poirot’s first appearance in a Christie novel, and “Links” is the follow-up.  The previous case (and play) are name-checked in the opening scene of this production but it’s a self-contained tale, so you don’t need prior exposure to any of these characters to follow this story.

“The fact that he was stabbed in the back points to this being a woman’s crime.”

And the story in “Murder on the Links” is a doozy, with so many twists and turns I honestly lost count (and also got a little confused, but Christie, Danley and this production pulled me back in and set me straight by the time it was over). Our narrator is Captain Arthur Hastings (Jake Leif) who serves as the trusty sidekick to detective Hercule Poirot (Ben Tallen) as well as our guide for the evening through the thorny plot.  Hastings and Poirot are summoned by an ominous letter to a small French town to assist a rich potential client with an unspecified problem that he fears may put him and his loved ones in danger.  However, this is set in 1920, and transportation then isn’t what it is now, so they unfortunately arrive just a bit too late - by the time they reach their destination, the man who wrote the letter is already dead, stabbed in the back out on a golf course (hence the title).  So the job changes instead to the pursuit of the man’s murderer.  And, as with most Agatha Christie mysteries, so it’s not really a spoiler, the corpse count doesn’t remain at just one.

“When you are dead, I can do as I please!”

Though murder is discussed, we do not witness one taking place in front of us, nor do we see a corpse.  The bodies in question are merely described to us.  Because, in Christie style, the point here isn’t the dead people, but the network of living people around them left behind, and affected by the events suddenly ripping their loved ones away from them.  This is also the cast of characters, of course, who make up our list of suspects.

“Sadly, with bleeding feet, love has come.”

Director Linda Paulsen has assembled quite the ensemble for this one (nearly 20 people) and uses them cleverly to populate this small town and make the world seem larger than just the detectives on the case and the suspicious people they interrogate.  There are numerous bits of side character work going on around the edges of the circular playing space, and the story in its center, from pre-show moments and throughout the evening, that add color to the human tapestry on display.  These sorts of clever touches extend to the design of the production as well.  The TRP space is stuffed full of set to the very edges on all sides, not an inch of space wasted by set designer Madeline Achen.  A tower on one side of the house and a room perched atop another of the four entrances have walls made of fabric, so when the illumination from lighting designer Mark Webb hits them one way, the walls appear solid, but if the light shifts, you can see through the walls to the space inside, where more action can take place in view of the audience.  And the parade of humanity wouldn’t be nearly as convincing if the actors, particularly the ones playing multiple roles, weren’t outfitted so ably by the work of costume designers Colleen O’Dell and Hunter Goldsmith.

“Your penetration is amazing, Hastings.”

Now, because this is Agatha Christie (and Hercule Poirot in particular), “The Murder on the Links” was always going to be a more cerebral affair than an action-oriented one.  The one drawback to this kind of detective story is that it’s so intellectual that it keeps much of the real human emotion involved in the situation at arm’s length.  This can make it hard to get invested in the story, apart from the intrinsic pleasure one gets from solving a complicated puzzle (which is still always a plus in a Christie mystery because the woman, and the adapter here, don’t leave any plot holes, all the many loose threads get tied up).  [Your mileage may vary: since my parents died, I find I’m less likely to enjoy death being treated as just another plot point in whatever media I’m consuming.  I think I expect more mess and emotion, and that’s not what a Christie murder mystery is hunting after.]

“We were quite the bachelor pair.”

Emotions themselves get swiftly pushed aside because we’ve got ground to cover plot-wise, and frankly the canvas is so crowded full of characters that it’s hard for anyone to get enough face time to make a real impression on the audience’s collective mind.  Part of the challenge of the production is just remembering who’s who.  We have the dead man’s widow Eloise (Megan Blakeley) and their adult son Jack (Bryce Bennyhoff) but they don’t get much time to grieve because they’ve either got to impart information or be moved around the plot’s chessboard by other characters who are talking about them in the context of the larger story.  There’s also the dead man’s potential mistress(?) Madame Daubreuil (Megan Rowe) and her mysterious and intense adult daughter Marthe (Paige Yanny). There are no less than four detectives on the case - in addition to Poirot and Hastings, there’s the local magistrate Hautet (Gerard Scheett) and a flamboyant, self-important French detective, tagged as Poirot’s nemesis, Giraud (James Ruth).  There’s also a plucky love interest for Hastings in the form of a young woman (Hannah Graff) who pops up in unexpected places to banter with him and then disappears, nicknamed Cinderella because he (and we) don’t find out her full identity until later in the action.  

“Without a doubt, it was the mafia!”

There’s more than one person with an assumed identity due to past misdeeds that required them to start a new life, and crimes in the past that resurface to mirror this case in the present.  There’s even a running joke about twins toward the very end of the proceedings that provides some much needed humor.  The parade of medical examiners, maids, mothers or nannies pushing baby carriages, waiters, vagrants, bakers, gardeners, general passersby, train porters, concierges, and waitresses is quite a feat of quick changes and multiple characters from the rest of the ensemble (Kiran Arquin, Chris Beason, Leo DeWolfe, Robin Gilmer, Brelee Harris, Cal Kathryn, Jeremy Lostetter, Stu Naber, Kristin Smith, and Carissa Wyant).  In addition, we have an assortment of accents from most members of the cast, some more successful than others.  There was also the unfortunate moment I got so confused that I thought a guy was trying to marry someone who was actually his half-sister (she wasn’t, but it took me a while to get myself out of that particular dead end path in the maze, because Christie can go to some dark, and darkly humorous, places sometimes, so it honestly didn’t seem like it was out of the question.)

“Crimes, though, are very much the same.”

The solution is a finely tuned series of events that make perfect sense when laid out by Poirot at the end of act two, but it will definitely keep you guessing.  It did me.  So if you’re looking for that kind of knotty plotting full of twists and turns and a satisfying resolution, “Agatha Christie’s The Murder on the Links” can give you your murder mystery fix for the holidays.  It’s also nice to see as one of several entries in this season’s lineup where TRP is giving audiences a chance to encounter new (and newish) plays and playwrights.

“I’m not your kind, and that brings trouble.”

Theatre in the Round Player (TRP)’s production of “Agatha Christie’s The Murder on the Links” runs through December 21, 2025 at their home in the Seven Corners neighborhood (245 Cedar Avenue, Minneapolis), Fridays & Saturdays at 7:30pm; Sundays at 2:00pm.

3 Stars - Recommended

 

 

Review - Pride and Prejudice - Theater in the Round Players - Jane Austen Dance Party - 4 stars

Theatre in the Round Players is kicking off their 74th season with a party for the whole audience.  TRP’s production of Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice,” adapted by Kate Hamill and directed by Penelope Parsons-Lord, is full of music, dance and laughter, so if you’re looking for a fun time, this show is your ticket.  Hamill has been an adapting whirlwind of a playwright over the last decade or so and is one of the most produced playwrights in the country.  (The Guthrie has produced a couple of her other Austen adaptations in recent years: “Sense and Sensibility” [which I liked] and “Emma” [which I… didn’t]).  Going in, it was a coin flip whether I was going to enjoy myself at this re-telling of Austen’s best known (and oft-adapted) novel.  I should have had more faith in the basic plot of “Pride and Prejudice” to deliver, regardless of the trappings.  The production is well-executed and the cast is fully throwing themselves into romantic comedy vibes of it all.

“I just hate to think of her up there… in bed… alone.”

For the uninitiated (or if, like me, you sometimes can’t keep the plotlines of the different Austen novels straight): “Pride and Prejudice” is the tale of headstrong, intelligent Elizabeth (Lizzy) Bennet (Eva Gemlo) and her three sisters - her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Erika Sasseville), her severe and intense younger sister Mary (Stephanie Kahle), and her naive and flighty youngest sister Lydia (Maya Vagle).  Since there’s no brother to take over the estate from their good-natured father Mr. Bennet (Nick Menzhuber), their loud and slightly frantic mother Mrs. Bennet (Alison Anderson) is desperately trying to get her girls all married off to well-to-do bachelors to secure their futures in 19th century society, where a woman’s options were limited.

“The soundest nets will sometimes catch the smallest fish.”

Fortune seems to smile on them when Jane catches the eye of the new man of means about town Charles Bingley (Michael Hundevad) - though his sister Caroline (Sydney Payne) does her best to undermine the budding relationship.  Caroline seems to have an ally in Bingley’s awkward (but very rich) friend Mr. Darcy (Luke Langfeldt).  Darcy seems to continually cross paths (and butt heads) with Lizzy, and yet despite the friction, the two of them can’t seem to stay away from one another.  Further complicating matters are other potential suitors for Lizzy - the clergyman Mr. Collins (Davin Grindstaff ) (also a cousin to the Bennets, who is set to inherit the home they all live in when Mr. Bennet dies); and Mr. Wickham (Adam Rider), a soldier with a past tied to Mr. Darcy.  Also in the mix are Lizzy’s friend Charlotte (Reese Noelle Marcus) who is also in need of a husband, and Mr. Collins’ very self-important patroness Lady Catherine (Anna Olson) and her ghoulish constantly veiled daughter Ann (Mary Lofreddo), with actors Lizzie Esposito, Scott Hoffman, and Krista Weiss rounding out the large ensemble of players.

“I apologize for the chaos.  I wish I could say it was unusual.”

The first thing that catches your eye before the show even starts is how set designer Madison Bunnell has transformed the TRP space - climbing vines cover the two support columns in the house, hedges and bookshelves front several of the audience sections, and there are picture frames as well as chandeliers hanging in the air.  But this is one of those rare set designs that reveals more detail the more time you spend looking at it. For instance, the bookshelves - half of each bookshelf has straight, normal shelves, the other side has shelves that are titled up or down, sort of quirky and precarious-looking (half Darcy, half Bennet, if you will). These shelves are populated by some of prop designer Dominic Detwiler’s many props helping to give each room that appears a touch of period feel.  There are also some large frames fronting one audience section that are off-kilter - but moveable - and throughout the play some characters feel compelled to adjust them and straighten them up. The painting of the floor around the edges evokes flowing water, and the small circles which are part of the geometric pattern in the center of the floor have fields of stars in them.

“Reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful.”

There’s also a lot of furniture moving around and multiple high-speed scene changes happening as the story rapidly moves from one location to the next.  This is the place where Alita Robertson’s bright, colorful lighting design, and the music-stuffed sound design from Robert Hoffman and director Parsons-Lord keep the audience alert and engaged between scenes.  It can also be where a lot of the dance is thrown in as well (choreographed by Claire Achen).  Scene shifts can be where a lot of the air and momentum go out of a production, so keeping these transitions lively and engaging is smart.

“He did come in search of a wife, and I was there.”

Most of the acting ensemble is leaning hard into the comedy part of “romantic comedy” and that’s something that this stage adaptation encourages.  Part of Hamill’s appeal as an adapter is her ability to inject humor into almost any situation - whether it’s a good idea or not.  It can help make an old story more accessible to a modern audience, however there’s a difference between laughing with a character and laughing at them.  The play is sometimes winking so hard at the audience that I was afraid its metaphorical eyeball would fall out of its socket.  A tone like that can sometimes make it hard for me to fully engage with a story because the actors are being encouraged to draw attention to the fact that they’re telling a story rather than just living in the moment without commenting on it.  Also some running bits can undercut a character, like equating Bingley’s enthusiasm to that of a dog which eventually becomes a bunch of canine commands with a ball, like Sit, Stay or Speak.  It’s a joke, and it gets a laugh, but at the character’s expense - so it’s a bit harder to root for him and Jane to end up together, because he doesn’t seem like a real person with a brain in his head.  Again, not the actors’ fault, or even the director’s - the script is telling them to go there.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”

At the end of the day, it’s still “Pride and Prejudice” and the story endures for a reason, because it works.  Lizzy and Darcy, Jane and Bingley, and the colorful cast of characters around them are fun to spend time with. There’s also real energy and joy in this production which make it an amusing watch, and the evening just sails right along.  TRP’s production of “Pride and Prejudice” is a solid piece of theater, with a large team of artists fiercely “committed to the bit,” as they say.  No snoozy period drama here, we get a Jane Austen dance party instead.

“Pride and Prejudice” plays at Theatre in the Round Players (245 Cedar Avenue, Minneapolis, MN) through October 5, 2025.

4 stars - Highly Recommended

 

 

Review - Endometriosis: The Musical - Theatre in the Round Players (TRP) - Great Voices, Lots of Laughs - 4 stars

Should you go?  Yes.

Based on the amazing vocal work of the ensemble cast alone, I can heartily recommend Endometriosis: The Musical, currently running at Theater in the Round Players (TRP).  It is also hilariously (and often, depending on your comfort level, “inappropriately”) funny from start to finish, which is not something I was expecting in a play about a medical condition.  Of course, I wasn’t really expecting a musical about a medical condition either, though that was right there in the title.

“They could even have a pop-up uterus that makes a sad trombone noise.”

Endometriosis: The Musical follows the misadventures of Jane (Abby Holmstrom) as she tries to climb the corporate ladder while also battling her own body once a month when debilitating and painful menstruation cycles impair her ability to do her job. The story is half a satire of office politics and half a satire of the medical community as Jane struggles to find her way through both worlds.

“Is the guy with the dancing poop going to be there?”

Creators Maria Bartholdi (book and lyrics) and Kristin Stowell (music and lyrics) have taken their 2022 hit show of the same name from its roots in the Minnesota Fringe Festival and expanded on it for this world premiere presentation. Director Shanan Custer (herself an icon of comedy writing and performance in this town) takes her instincts for what’s funny and guides the cast in their efforts to (quite successfully) dial the comedy and satire up to an 11, with the audience rarely getting a chance to breathe between laughs once they get rolling. Music director Jean Orbison Van Heel elicits stunning vocal performances from every member of the cast - the group numbers (and there are a lot of them) are chock full of gorgeous harmonies, even when they’re dissonant or in a minor key, and the duets and solos throughout are equally beautiful.  Sometimes that musical beauty is in service of an emotional moment, sometimes in service of a belly laugh, and often you don’t know which it’s going to be until it lands on you.  When this cast is singing, the show soars.  Van Heel also leads the three-piece band on piano, with David Mercer-Taylor on bass and Caitlin Halmrast Lucic on drums, providing solid backup to the cast with musical accompaniment that never skips a beat.

“I have no idea why I was hiding in that plant.”

Jane works for the amusingly generic and unspecific Business, Incorporated. There she must impress her boss Mr. McKenna (Jack Strub), as the Business prepares for a Big Presentation, first to investors and later to the visiting President of the company (Aly O’Keeffe). Jane’s efforts often run afoul of the censure of her petty co-worker Gina (Nora Sonneborn), always threatening to report people to Human Resources (HR) for being inappropriate, even though she’s writing her own wildly inappropriate historical romance novel, and later bursts into song about her “Sexy OB-GYN” and all the many ways she desires him to examine her. Another office obstacle is often Derek (Jack Bonko), constantly currying favor with the boss, even though the boss can’t remember Derek’s name. Derek’s additional obsession with the boss’ sponge baths is… something.

“Lady Parts is an auto-body shop run by two lesbians.”

They’re not all bad, though.  Jane does have some supportive co-workers.  Miranda (Tara Borman) is Jane’s primary cheerleader at the office, and also the one who, along with Jane’s roommate Brian (Christopher Knutson), urges Jane to see a doctor, even a specialist, because the extremity of Jane’s symptoms is not normal.  Rounding out the ensemble is Kate Cosgrove as their delightfully odd co-worker Ashley, who has a habit of knowing things she shouldn’t know, and also popping up so unexpectedly in scenes that her office mates frequently recoil in surprise.  Every now and again, Ashley also startles the audience. There’s an adorably awkward subplot in which Miranda pines (not-so-secretly) for Ashley, delaying so long that she finally has to interrupt a big musical number in order to ask Ashley out on a date before she runs out of time and the show is over.  Christopher Knutson also plays Jane’s co-worker Brad, who keeps getting mauled by bears for some reason (at the top of both the first and second acts, in fact), and this provides Jane with her potential big break in taking over Brad’s work on the Big Account.

“Here’s some cramp candy for your missed opportunity.”

What does all this have to do with endometriosis, you ask?  Well… next to nothing, which is kind of the problem.  The script of the show, and the songs, have a split focus.  I think the intent was to show how Jane’s painful, undiagnosed condition is interfering with her work.  But partly because Jane’s work is so deliberately unspecific, there aren’t (currently) any details of her day to day with which to interfere.  So instead that space is filled with the specifics of who her terrible or lovable coworkers are, rather than what they do.  All of which, don’t get me wrong, is very entertaining, but it’s kind of beside the point.

“Healthcare is hell but what the hell can we do?”

Because the other half of the focus of the production is Jane’s quest to understand what’s going on with her own body.  This quest is complicated by the fact that nearly everyone in the medical community isn’t listening to her, or dismisses what they do hear from her, or have suggestions for treatment that are either ineffective or completely unworkable.  This is compounded by the fact that Jane’s own family - mother, father and brother (O’Keeffe, Strub and Bonko again, respectively) - can’t even tolerate a conversation with her on the topic, leading to an epic scene and song full of euphemisms for menstruation.  It takes a while just for Jane’s friends to get Jane to take her own condition seriously, and it then immediately runs into a wall of denial from the medical community. There’s a chilling (but again, still funny) scene in a waiting room where Jane spends time talking to other women who have been kept waiting months, or more than a year, to even get an appointment to speak to a doctor.  This scene is punctuated by recitation of often grim facts related to women’s health, plugging the show directly into all too current events outside the theater walls.  This prompted a lot of finger snapping, gasps, and noises of assent and agreement in the audience around me.

“I used to work in the circus.”

The production can be really affecting when it tackles the medical community and Jane’s journey through it, but there’s a hiccup in the execution sometimes.  The show escalates Jane’s challenges in getting a diagnosis up to a point in act one, and then it starts repeating itself.  As funny (and appalling) as Gina’s “Sexy OB-GYN” song is, and as odd as it is for the sexy doctor to turn out to be an Elvis impersonator (of course getting yet another musical number, I mean, you have to, he’s Elvis) - do we need either of these songs, or this one particular doctor?  Why is he special?  What is he saying that isn’t either parroting what Gina’s earlier song did, or parroting what the earlier chorus line of other doctors did?  It’s not an escalation, it’s not really a different step on the journey.  When we finally get to a specialist (Borman, again) in act two, it’s very entertaining to have Jane torpedo an entire production number because she doesn’t need another song, she needs someone to listen to her, and to give her some answers.  And we also finally get to hear Jane list her symptoms for a doctor and instead of interrupting her, she encourages Jane to keep singing and tell her everything, and the doctor just takes notes, and then, when Jane is done, responds.  It’s a great moment.  And one we might have gotten to sooner with fewer office antics or doctor repetition.

“Please stop saying ‘pussy porridge’ in this Applebee’s!”

In fact, there’s another great scene right near the top of act two, where Jane’s mother comes to visit her and they finally talk/sing to each other, and hear each other, and it’s just as funny as it is moving.  And the production is starting to unpack things like generational ignorance and a code of silent suffering being passed down from one group of women to the next.  And then mom disappears for the rest of the play.  Why?  We were just starting to get somewhere interesting.

“I didn’t become a doctor to help people.”

When we finally reach the doctor who is an expert in endometriosis (Sonneborn, again, these actors all get a workout), when Jane finally gets her diagnosis, when there’s finally a plan, if not a cure, that’s a place I want to spend more time in.  Because I have to be honest, I learned more about endometriosis from my pre-show homework on the internet and the playwright’s note in the program at the theater than I did in the musical itself.  The production could spend more time there.  Because the disease can affect a lot of different aspects of the body, and also of a person’s life.  We only really see endometriosis as an inconvenience to Jane’s generic career path.  We don’t see it impact her personal life (because she doesn’t really have a personal life).  The musical could have done less with the office and more with the character of Jane, and been a more effective vessel for its message.  Oh, but the intern (Bonko, again) who the specialist forces to where a uterus costume to demonstrate the effects of the disease?  Comedy gold.  Again, more of that, please.  The creators obviously have the skill to both inform and amuse at the same time.  They should trust that they have a willing audience and deliver the information.

“One more woman learning to hide.”

We all know work sucks.  We don’t all know about endometriosis, or the maze most women have to navigate to find a doctor to take them seriously and offer some relief.  Tell us something we don’t know.

“Sorry to tell you, but your body’s gross and wrong.”

The entire production team deserves a big shout-out, starting with numerous fantastic costumes from designer Ryan McCanna (assisted by Emma Shook).  The whole production pops with color coordination and flair, but the weird character moments stand out.  There’s the Brad-mauling bear and the intern’s uterus costume, of course, but the scene stealer has to be Aunt Flo, representative of “that time of the month,” in eye-assaulting levels of red and pink, including an enormous fake hairdo.  Hats off, no pun intended (because there are bunch of hats in the show, too), to prop designer Mark Steffer for providing everything from Aunt Flo’s red streamers and basket of feminine hygiene products to toss into the audience, to the poop emoji for the big gastroenterology musical number, to all those many edible arrangements.  Not sure if this falls in props or costumes, but extra special points for that instant body cast moment at the top of act two.

“A fact we just happened to know.”

Set designer Sadie Ward (assisted by Madison Bunnell), creates a fast-moving world on wheels, including an incredibly versatile and oft-used table (complete with stirrups, yikes!). And I don’t know whether this falls into set or lights, because they do light up inside, but there are a number of very large tampons hanging from the rafters all over the theater.  And because this is a musical, I had a passing thought about Sondheim’s Into The Woods, and Jack’s song “There Are Giants In The Sky” - and then my brain jumped to “There Are Tampons In The Sky” (for those of you with that stuck in your head now, you’re welcome).  Lighting designer Mark Webb (assisted by Griffin Moore) really outdoes himself here.  The show is a feast for the eyes in large part because of the way he punctuates with light and vibrant color all the many special moments of the show, often also comedic, whether they involve bears or Aunt Flo or women verbalizing uncomfortable statistics.

“I don’t have the words to help you.”

Favorite sound moment?  The tap dancing sound effect which actors are quite obviously and hilariously not matching with their own footwork in a chorus of doctors musical number.  Kudos to sound designer Kristin Smith (assisted by Chris Beason) for that and all the other sound-augmented moments of the show, serious and silly.  Also a nod here to the funky non-dancer choreography moves orchestrated by assistant director/choreographer Claire Frederick.  I appreciate the philosophy of “If they can’t move, then play it for laughs.”  It works here in a big way.  No idea how the stage management team of Lauren Volkart, their assistant Ella Crosby, and backstage crew Sommerdai Kier keep all these plates spinning but well done!  The thing runs with nary a glitch from start to finish and that can’t have been easy.

“We are what we do next.”

It’s hard for new musicals to find their way to a stage, so it’s nice to see TRP making room for new voices and new melodies.  There’s a whole lot to like in this very funny, great-sounding production.  I guess my only real quibble is that, when all is said and done, I ended up wanting a little more endometriosis in the musical - which is not a bad place to be, if that’s the message you’re trying to get out into the world.

Endometriosis: The Musical runs through Sunday, July 13, 2025 at Theatre in the Round Players (TRP) (245 Cedar Avenue, Minneapolis, MN 55454)

4 Stars - Highly Recommended

(Poster art courtesy of Theatre in the Round Players)