Appropriate

Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ play, “Appropriate,” depicts an American dysfunctional, family drama that centers around who will take possession of the family home and a heinous father’s secret.

“Appropriate”

Reviewed by Cynthia Allen 

(12/19/2023)

Sarah Paulson looks sternly, directly at you, holding up a picture of her family’s Southern mansion depicted within an off-kilter, cracked glass frame in Mark Seliger’s playbill photo. This establishing image of Paulson (as Toni, a Lafayette family heir, and the executor of the estate) and the “broken home” picture hints at the double entre of Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ play title, “Appropriate.” Jacobs-Jenkins’ Broadway production of a revised version of his 2013 Obie-Award-winning Best Play of the Year, “Appropriate,” is captivating and offers up a new type of portrayal of America’s racist past. Jacobs-Jenkins depicts an American dysfunctional, family drama, in the vein of Tennessee Williams, Eugene O’Neill, and Tracy Letts. The title’s pun implies questions -- who will take possession of the estate, and will the person who does so, do so in a proper manner? In the photo, Toni’s face (Paulson’s face) obscures most of the plantation house, and her severe gaze establishes her dominating personality and determines the play's tone. Toni grasps the frame tightly indicating she will never let her family home get away from her.

“Appropriate” opens in complete darkness with a plethora of disquieting sounds – a cicada cacophony (sound design by Bray Poor and Will Pickens). The cicada’s dominant hum is, in fact, mating calls -- sounds of the creatures craving and wanting. The cicada chatter also is a buzz, highlighting a dark, secret in the Lafayette family history.

Set in southwest Arkansas in the summer of 2011, the Lafayette family has convened one final time at the former plantation estate of their father Ray who passed away there a few months before. The main reason for the family gathering is the sale of the house and the property grounds to satisfy debts unearthed by Toni after her father’s death. 

Toni is the eldest of the three Lafayette siblings. Toni is a control freak. However, she had put the handling of the house auction into the management of local, seemingly reputable agents. Toni’s irascible personality increasingly becomes at odds with the people she hires to take care of the auction preparations to the extent that she ends up dismissing them. The timing of her firing leaves her only a day or so to do the necessary work to showcase it before the sale.  In addition, she brings her son, Rhys (Graham Campbell), a problem teenager to let him bid a final farewell to a place of not-so-fond memories for him. To complicate matters even further, Toni’s ex-husband Derek, appears with his new, very young fiancé in tow. Derek is an opportunist; he has designs on the potential monies reaped from the estate auction.  

A final addition to this motley group is Toni’s middle brother Bo (Corey Stoll) who has come from New York. Bo is accompanied by his Jewish wife, Rachael (Natalie Gold), and their two children, Cassidy (Alyssa Emily Marvin), a girl in her teens, and Ainsley (Everett Sobers), a younger boy. Cory Stoll straddles the fine line effectively of citified belligerence and ambiguous ethics.

To add to the family’s confused dynamics, the youngest brother Francois/Frank (Michael Esper) who now wants to be called Franz, appears out of the blue, uninvited with his young free-spirited fiancée, River (Ella Beatty).  Francois/Frank had distanced from the family completely for nearly ten years and had resided in Portland, Oregon, unbeknownst to most of the family. No one knew how to reach him and thereby were not able to notify him about his father’s funeral until it was too late for him to attend. Michael Esper is exact in his portrayal of a man at odds with himself and still on a road to self-discovery.

In sorting the father’s keepsakes, an album of photographs is unearthed. The scrapbook is a disturbing portrayal of blatant racism – dead black people hanging necks askew. Their father kept photographic trophies of lynchings. None of the siblings had been aware of their father’s ties to white supremacists or the Ku Klux Klan. 

Lila Neugebauer is an exacting director who doesn’t have her actors exaggerate their performances. She directs with a more naturalistic hand, complementing Jacobs-Jenkins’ realistic melodrama.

The production design greatly strengthens the feel of the play. The set design by collective dots significantly enhances the visual ambiance of the play and adds to its sinister atmosphere. The architecture of the Lafayette nineteen-century southern plantation house is spot-on and its gradual evolution from a dilapidated jumble of furniture, boxes, and whatnot to an organized house ready to sell is noteworthy.

Dede Ayite’s fitting costumes represent who the characters are immediately from River’s Native American style of dressing to Bo’s custom-made shirts. Jane Cox’s sensitive lighting changes during the day from sunlight in the morning to menacing evening ambiance. UnkleDave’s Fight-House (Fight Direction) helms the denouement of a dynamic and comedic climax which effectively ends any hopes of the family having a positive relationship.

Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ play, “Appropriate,” is a riveting depiction of a messed up American family at its worst, a comedy-drama that centers around racism and greed.

Max Wolf Friedlich writes a mind-bending, psychological thriller that fastens you to your seat from beginning to end.

“Job”

Reviewed by Cynthia Allen 

(10/8/2023)

“Job” (as in "place of employment") is a two-hander, an excellent psychological thriller that fastens you to your seat from beginning to end. The playbill cover design frames the main characters in an eye-catching grid of four parts – two of Jane (Sydney Lemon) and two of Loyd (Peter Friedman). Jane captures your attention first in the upper left-hand and lower right corners. She bears arms with an office stapler – a double entendre that signifies a staple of her job and a device to hold something or someone in place. Next to her and below her, Loyd’s face is push-pinned down as if to be a target. These images beg the questions -- why is Jane targeting Loyd and for what reason is she doing so? Max Wolf Friedlich crafts a tense drama that nimbly plays cat and mouse with the audience throughout the play regarding potential answers and outcomes.

Michael Herwitz’s direction is point on. He maintains a taut anxiety that escalates like a time bomb waiting to explode. Herwitz sustains an intensity of an isolated time and place without having to comment on a soon-to-be-frightened pandemic world. The setting is pre-Covid in January 2020.

Mextly Couzin’s ominous lighting design with the vertical banks of lights in glittering, drab colors flicker, off-and-on, sporadically. The fitful lighting is coupled with the erratic sand complementary sound design by Jessie Char and Maxell Neely-Cohen of audio interruptions. The noises are reminiscent of the clicking of a computer-obsessed TikTok viewer. 

“Click. An engine revving like a buzz saw. Click. Pornographic moaning. Click. Something, someone, howling in pain…”

These design elements open the play. The audio and visual hiccups -- on one second and off another second -- establish the idea that Jane is most likely imagining scenarios of various confrontational outcomes with Loyd. Scott Penner’s neutral and contemporary psychiatrist’s office set is raised a bit and slightly claustrophobic with comfortable armchairs and pillows for the two actors. It is a beige enclave in a place of darkness that serves as a background for the developing tense actions between the two characters. Michelle J. Li’s workday costumes delineate both characters nicely.

“Job” begins dramatically with Jane pointing a gun at Loyd. Sydney Lemmon portrays Jane as a severe and high-voltage electric personality who’s impressively articulate, ready with a snappy Influencer-feud answer for everything, but fed up with work, and straddles between obsessiveness and overwhelming desperation. Loyd is played by the wonderful Peter Friedman who conveys a hippy casualness, easygoing but with an air of compassion and sympathy. Both actors give subtle, exacting performances. They make the play’s surprising changes in the plot believable.

Jane is a 20-ish employee at a high-tech company. She works in “user care” — a code word for content revision, itself a code word for the removal of volatile, obscene, and often illegal material from the internet. Jane has been placed on leave after a humiliating and disturbing video of her becoming unhinged in the office goes viral. She arrives at a crisis therapist – Loyd – mandated by her company determined to be reinstated to the job that gives her life continuity and worth. The crisis therapist’s evaluation will decide whether she can return to work.

Like a good Black Mirror episode, “Job” is manipulative in an impartial sense and not influenced by personal beliefs or values. The play is a psychological thriller that showcases two people, devoted to their careers and who are from two distinct generations, genders, and political views. “Job” questions what it means to be a responsible digital citizen, and what the public’s duty is to help the people who most need to use both the internet and new media technology. The play does not have a neat, tied-up-in-bow ending. It leaves what happens next up to the audience. 

Levi Holloway's thrilling drama rests in an in-between time of this world and another world – a grey area where purgatory reflects heaven or hell possibilities for one or more of the characters.

“Grey House”

Reviewed by Cynthia Allen 

(8/1/2023)

As the "Grey House" title and playbill art suggest, this thrilling drama by Levi Holloway rests in an in-between time of this world and another world – a grey area where purgatory reflects heaven or hell possibilities for one or more of the characters. The house (the “O” of “House” is highlighted in blood red in the playbill), or rather this 1977 cabin in the woods (inventive set design by Scott Pask), is a creepy main character. One minute its interiors give a comfortable, at-home feel, and later on, its stuffed furniture seems to want to devour whoever comes within reach. The house talks in whispers, creaks, groans, and even shrieks (ominous sound design by Tom Gibbons) complemented by disturbing music (aptly composed by  Or Matias). A dissonant tune opens the play, establishing the haunted house atmosphere in this middle-of-nowhere place. The lighting (top-notch work by Natasha Katz) creates the shadow world type of ambiance. Joe Mantello's rapid-fire timing and precise pacing direction unveil playwright Holloway’s intentions and messages of grief, hidden in the cracks and crevices of this way station.

A couple, Henry (played by Paul Sparks) and Max (played by Tatiana Maslany), seek shelter in a tatterdemalion cabin after surviving a car accident. Henry has broken his leg. His wife, Max, somehow has gotten him to a house that she has seen to be close by. The cabin caretakers (five mysterious children, the children’s would-be mother, and the “never to be explained” character known as The Ancient) welcome the stranded visitors. They are Marlow (played by a charismatic but peculiar Sophia Anne Caruso), the eldest and the leader of the group; Bernie (Millicent Simmonds), who communicates in American Sign Language and is a waft of calmness among the disparate group; Squirrel (Colby Kipnes), who is like her name implies, a wild creature who has gnawed off the telephone cord, making the phone seemingly unusable; and an inquisitive character known as A1656 (Alyssa Emily Marvin), the meaning behind the enigmatic name is unveiled later. There is also a needy, angelic-looking boy (The Boy), played by Eamon Patrick O'Connell. The Ancient (Cyndi Coyne), fragile and deceptively impactful, appears unexpectedly at strategic movements. Laurie Metcalf is Raleigh a gruff and dour housemother of sorts. Her Raleigh is weary yet valiant, fully knowledgeable of what the house is really about, and stoically surrenders to the idea that she cannot change anything about the situation in which she finds herself.  

Ellenore Scott provides the ritualistic movement that the characters embody. Rudy Mance’s costumes are haunted house appropriate encompassing cobwebby-like nightgowns to 1977 street clothes. Katie Gell & Robert Pickens do the hair and wigs. Christine Grant’s special effects makeup is dramatically effective.

Reminiscent of “The Shining” and a “The Twilight Zone” episode, “Grey House” is a daring, unique, and ambitious spooky play that will keep theatergoers creeped out for quite a while. 

Zora Howard wrote and directed an inventive new play where three Black men dangle ominously, both literally and figuratively, relating a series of ill-begotten tales of life misspent.

“Hang Time”

Reviewed by Cynthia Allen

(3/17/23)

Playwright Zora Howard (a Pulitzer-prize finalist) begins dark – pitch-dark in setting, lighting, sound, and overall ambiance -- with her absorbing and intriguing play, "Hang Time." The story relates horrific incidents and unexpected reckonings as told by three Black men. Swinging back and forth between one character’s recollection to another’s, each imparts a series of memories, often describing the nightmarish ordeals and commonplace occurrences of living as a Black man in the South. The world premiere of “Hang Time” was produced in partnership with WACO (Where Art Can Occur) Theater Center in Los Angeles and Butler Electronics at The Flea Theater in New York.

Howard also directs her play, her first time as a theatrical director. Her noteworthy pacing and pregnant pauses enhance the tension and expectation of this emotionally affecting 60-minute story.

“Hang Time” opens with three men of Color hanging in midair seemingly without any tangible or visible support. The men, by the monikers of Bird (Dion Graham), Slim (Akron Watson), and Blood (Cecil Blutcher), reminisce about ladies they've known, jobs held, and family members important to them. They don't appear connected to each other as friends, or even acquaintances. They seem more symbolic as episodes of three individual Black men living in the American South in the mid-twentieth century. 

Gradually, it is revealed that each man hanging around is being lynched. Each is in an in-between time -- an intermediate state between life and death. Howard uses "narrative continuation" or events that happen in the blink of an eye as an innovative plot device. In some ways, narrative continuation functions as a form of gallows humor -- to execute time and three distinct stories. Their body (or bodies) of reflections dangle before you as three lives and times misspent. 

There are three types of personalities and three phases of manhood – youth, middle age, and a 50-ish man past his prime. Blood (Cecil Blutcher) represents youth gone wrong. He has dreams and aspirations, but he does not have the wherewithal to make them happen. Yet he has enough devil-may-care initiative to get himself into trouble. He is a chip off his good-for-nothing father. Blutcher gives Blood dimension and energy. Slim (Akron Watson) is what Southern Blues musicians write lyrics about– a middle-aged lothario who Don Juan’s the ladies. Watson’s braggadocio performance captures Slim’s arrogance. Yet, not only has he witnessed horrendous things of others, but done them himself. Slim is a bottom-feeder, a person who takes advantage of people and situations for his own benefit. Bird (Dion Graham) is the oldest of the three and is jaded. He has been around for decades and has seen it all. Bird tries to offer advice to the younger men by suggesting that a good woman and family life are key to being happy. A good woman is “gonna make sure you fed mind, body, and spirit…” However, the play does not flesh out Bird’s story adequately. Bird’s history needed more backstory. Unlike the two other men, Bird’s reason for being hung is never quite articulated.

Both scenic design and sound design are key in creating a world that is neither here nor there. Sound designer Megan Culley uses bird noises and a train whistling to suggest a countryside setting near railroad tracks, an environment we never see but only hear. A tolling bell and the creaking of a rope signal transitions between the three men's stories. Neal Wilkinson’s bare-bones set -- three poles for three men where each is strapped -- lit (Reza Behjat's lighting design) so the three men seemingly hover in nothingness without any discernible means of support. There is no tree nor anything visible above or below the men to define a scaffold. Wilkinson is edgy-minimal with his set, creating a footpace with dark and glinting metal poles. Besides the set and lighting design, Rick Sordelet/Sordelet Inc.'s suspension rig adds to the surreal out-of-time and place illusion. In fact, Rick Sordelet creatively designed harnesses for the three men’s backs that are attached to metal structures that carefully obscure detection unless up close. Sometimes the hanging men's legs move back and forth on their own accord and a dark stand intermittently comes up to meet their feet, allowing them to stand. However, suspension of disbelief is mostly edgy-minimal with little attention paid to how the characters are held up.

Costumes (by Dominique Fawn Hill) are reminiscent of chain gangs -- jeans, sneakers, and plaid button-down shirts. There is wear and tear on the clothes, intentionally done so, so that the bullet holes and bloody rips in the clothing are not readily noticed.

Howard’s plot decision of using narrative continuation --subjective time going by in seconds with an unanticipated ending -- -- was popularized by Ambrose Bierce in the 1890s with his short story, "Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge." Since then, this technique of irregular time sequences and an ending twist has been played with by other esteemed authors, such as H.G. Wells ("The Door in the Wall" published in 1906), Vladimir Nabokov ("Details of a Sunset" published in1924), Jorge Luis Borges ("The Secret Miracle" published in 1944), and even in the British TV series, "Black Mirror'' ("Playtest" premiered in October 2016), to name a few. 

Zora Howard's "Hang Time" is a taunt and moving drama, depicting three Black men who reveal vivid and gruesome stories that live on, even if the characters’ lives are short-lived. 

“A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings” is a tale which beautifully bridges Latin American magical realism of Gabriel Garcia Márquez’s short story with Irish dark humor by means of using fanciful puppetry. 

"A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings"

Reviewed by Cynthia Allen

(5/2/23)

Since the opening of its new building about a year and a half ago in New York's Hell's Kitchen, the Irish Arts Center (IAC) continues to bring innovative and exemplary multidisciplinary shows to Off-Broadway. Dan Coley's, Manus Halligan’s, Genevieve Hulme-Beaman’s, and Riverbank Arts Centre's adaptation of Gabriel Garcia Márquez’s short story, "A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings (Un señor muy viejo con unas alas enormes)," represents a wonderful example of IAC’s inventive programming. The 90-minute play is a tale that beautifully bridges Latin American magical realism with Irish dark humor by means of using surreal puppet performance art (think Jorge Luis Borges meeting Martin McDonagh). Both the story and its puppet play adaptation tickle your fancy as well as your fantasy -- befitting both Márquez's style and the Irish sensibility. It is no wonder that Dan Colley, known for his tongue-in-cheek, puppet play production, "Bears in Space," of seven years ago at 59E59 Theaters "Origin's 1st Irish Festival," can conjure up another weird but enjoyable, emotionally affecting, puppet experience, and successfully pay homage to Márquez at the same time. It is typical of the Irish Arts Center's promise to showcase such unique and captivating shows.

The story begins in a kitchen with a woe-begotten couple (Karen McCartney as Elisenda and Manus Halligan as Pelayo) bemoaning the nuisances put upon them -- that they must deal with the aftermath of a damaging, torrential rainstorm, their house being beset with foul-smelling crabs, and their child being sick. Suddenly, out the window, they see something flabbergasting. A very old man with enormous wings has crashed into their yard. He no longer seems to have the ability to fly; he is grounded. Not knowing if he is a friend (an angel) or a foe (a demon), they are flummoxed. Betwixt and between as to what to do, they decide that the only logical option is to lock him up in their chicken coop while they determine who he is. 

Meanwhile, two storytellers, posing as a neighbor woman and the other as a priest (also played by Karen McCartney and Manus Halligan), comment on the couple's conundrum and their indecisiveness to the audience, deliberately breaking the fourth wall. The neighbor woman states that he’s an angel with powers to cure the sick. The priest contradicts her and is positive that he is the devil. In either case, this Being is a spectacle to behold, and perhaps to be taken advantage of. While they debate over their dilemma, word gets out in their village and curiosity-seekers flock to see this extraordinary creature. Inevitably, capitalism rears its ugly head when the townspeople realize easy money can be made by advertising him as magical and selling admission to witness his potential supernatural powers in action.

“A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings” features a stripped-down kitchen with only a table and bookshelf (Andrew Clancy set designer). The table has a dual function -- both as a piece of furniture and as a theater platform on which clay marionettes perform scenes by the storytellers (the neighbor woman and priest). Go-Pro cameras are projected on a center-stage rectangular screen (projection designs by production manager Eoin Kilkenny) which give an up-close dimension to the drama. 

The puppets (Andrew Clancy design), Pelayo and Elisenda’s child, are minimalist, constructed of yarn and stick. Their primitive and makeshift design are nice counterpoints to the advanced technology that many modern puppet productions often employ. 

Besides her facile puppetry, McCartney has a lively voice. Her voiceovers (Elisenda and the woman neighbor) befit her narratives. Halligan voices many roles with appropriate dexterity and ambiance – the Very Old Man With Enormous Wings, the priest, and Pelayo. These voice-overs are filmed in close-up by the Go-Pro and projected on the screen, directly to the audience. This up-close technology allows for slanted ways of viewing the Old Man's reactions and suffering described in the story as “a cataclysm in repose.”

Sarah Jane Shiels (lighting design) projects the cozy environment of the inside of the house (sunny and warm) and the outside world (distant and cool) going back and forth in mood between their greed to get rich by exploiting the Old Man. At the end of the story when the Old Man escapes and flies away, a simple white spotlight focuses on the Old Man’s angel wings. The wings dance in the light – a dramatic change in appearance – giving the last glimpse of this creature an otherworldly spiritual quality.

Alma Kelliher (musical score and sound design) uses pre-recorded classical piano and violin music at the outset of the show. Then, gradually, jazz motifs are incorporated which underline important voice-over speeches. In particular, she punctuates one of McCartney’s monologues when, as the neighbor-narrator, begins to chant then goes all-out into song, complementing the diverse plot points.

Slapstick comedy and exaggerated physical stunts are the je ne sais quois of Riverbank Arts Centre’s puppet production. However, Riverbank does take Márquez’s classic story seriously and is not just a tale to toy with. Their out-of-the-box, creative thinking leaves the audience with something different to reflect upon than what they had anticipated. They turn Márquez’s themes of “being different,” “abused because of being out of the ordinary” and yet an “object of curiosity” on end with a refreshing perspective. "A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings” portrays what it means to be on the edge of society in a gripping yet darkly fanciful way.At Modern Theatres Online, we are committed to bringing our audiences the finest performances from around the world. From classical music to contemporary dance, our artists represent the very best in their fields. We believe that the arts have the power to enrich and transform lives, and we are dedicated to sharing that magic with our community.

“Life of Pi” designs to capture faith, survival, and hope in a boatload of innovative ways.

“Life of Pi”

Reviewed by Cynthia Allen

(4/5/23)

The fulcrum of the play, “Life of Pi,” rests upon three beliefs -- faith, survival, and hope. Lolita Chakrabarti marvelously adapts Yann Martel’s award-winning novel for the stage and respectfully adheres to Martel’s themes and narrative. 

Design elements are key in introducing “Life of Pi.” Not but not least is the Playbill cover. The Playbill cover design not only is not often credited in the Playbill but often is not mentioned as a design feature. The play cover design for “Life of Pi” is as important to be recognized as the other production design elements -- the numerous puppet creatures (tigers, hyenas, orangutans, zebras, sea turtles, butterflies, fish, rats, a goat, and a baby orangutan), sets, lighting, visual effects, sound, etc.

Playbill covers (along with the plays’ titles) first introduce the creative work before it is presented on the stage. In particular, with “Life of Pi,” the cover’s design astutely captures the play's sense of peril, danger, and vulnerability. The title of the play, “Life of Pi,” looms large at the bottom of the Playbill -- a repoussoir. The designer employs an artistic or painterly “trick,” where the viewer must trip over the orange and white title (a repoussoir) in order to get to the background images -- the background where the protagonist, Pi, and his companion, a Bengal tiger, are residing in a small lifeboat. Pi stands at the helm, with paddle in hand, and his back to the audience. This full-back position (facing back to the audience) often conveys a character’s alienation from the world. In a design, this staging suggests a sense of mystery, concealment, or even vulnerability. Pi faces a full moon -- a moon with a hint of a tiger's face inscribed upon it. The boat rests upon calm water shimmering against the moonlit sky. Behind Pi, at the rear of the lifeboat, the tiger is eating his prey, seemingly indifferent to who else is aboard. The tiger suggests that he will be wanting another quarry to sustain him soon, and the only other life form is Pi. The Playbill cover by SPOTCO Advertising Agency’s design team is exquisite, haunting, and affecting.

“Life of Pi” is about 17-year-old Piscine “Pi” Patel, the zookeeper’s son from Pondicherry, India who claims to have survived a shipwreck in a lifeboat accompanied by a Bengal tiger on the boat’s deck. Pi tells his tale to a journalist while recuperating in a Mexican hospital. Webster uses innovative staging as a way to tell time and a narrative of import – flashbacks between the hospital room and the lifeboat at sea. However, the story suggests that Pi’s ordeal at sea may be misnomer. All may not be what it seems or said by survivor Pi. There may be other outcomes for what happened to Pi adrift in the ocean. What is true and what is make-believe allude to Pi’s trauma (PTSD) and what Pi had to endure to survive. The playwright and play leave what actually happened up to the audience.

Even though Hiran Abeysekera who plays Pi is note-worthy and athletically spry, the puppets (puppet designs by Nick Barnes and Finn Caldwell) and the eight puppeteers are the stars. The puppeteers include Nikki Calonge, Fred Davis, Rowan Ian Seamus Magee, Jonathan David Martin, Betsy Rosen, Celia Mei Rubin, Scarlet Wilderink, and Andrew Wilson. 

The first sight of Richard Parker, the puppet Bengal tiger, is a jaw-dropping moment. Director Max Webster’s staging of the actors and the choreographing of the creatures is full of wonder, energy, and marvel. Tim Hatley’s, Tim Lutkin’s and Andrzej Goulding’s creative visual effects dazzle. Stage design and costumes are by Tim Hatley. Video design and animation are by Andrzej Goulding. Lighting design is by Tim Lutkin. Sound designer Carolyn Downing brings the savage storm alive. Incidental music is Andrew T. Mackay.

 Pi ends the play by stating: “You can't prove which story is true…. So tell me, which story do you prefer? Which is the better story, the story with animals or the story without animals?” "Life of Pi” ends with posing two alternative endings that are based on the two questions. The ending picked is determined by the question answered. In either case, the ending hinges on faith, survival, and hope. 

Playwright Hansol Jung takes on a deplorable form of child adoption in an illuminating and meaningful way in his “Wolf Play.”

"Wolf Play"

Reviewed by Cynthia Allen

(February 14, 2023)

Playwright Hansol Jung’s engaging and emotionally wrenching "Wolf Play," transferred from Soho Reps' downtown Off-Off-Broadway space to MCC's Off-Broadway uptown location after the play garnered rave reviews. Acclaimed Mi-Yi Theater Company helped develop "Wolf Play," furthering the Company's mission to nurture new and innovative Asian-American voices. In a theater season, where there are several Off-Broadway and Broadway puppet shows, "Wolf Play" is at stand-out -- remarkable, not only because of its writing about and inventive approach to social justice issues but because of its noteworthy and imaginative production (superb direction by Dustin Wills and unique creative designs by his production team). 

"Wolf Play" intentionally makes use of its title as a double entendre -- playing with the word, "wolf." The story is about a boy of about six-years-old (Jeenu but is referred to as “Wolf”), who identifies as a lone wolf. His initial adoptive parents Peter (Christopher Bannow) and his (unseen) wife Katie unexpectedly have their own biological child after adopting Jeenu from Korea. Wolf-Child Jeenu feels rejected and abandoned and acts out. His behavior becomes unmanageable. Jeenu is set apart from American society by first being Asian, and then being too much to handle. His adoptive parents look for a way out of taking care of Jeenu and discover through an Internet message board that they can hand him over to another set of parents without too much bother. Robin (Nicole Villamil), a want-a-be mother, responds to Peter’s Yahoo message. However, she is very self-absorbed regarding her obsessive need to be a mother. Robin does not communicate with her partner Ash (Esco Jouléy). Not only does she not ask permission of her partner to adopt this child but does not tell her that the adoption is a fait de accompli. Robin’s brother, Ryan (Brian Quijada), is vocal and vitriolic about his sister’s adoption, adding to the tension. Robin’s self-absorbed adoption initiative has repercussions and unanticipated consequences -- both in good and bad ways.

The play depicts a current type of deplorable scenario in child adoption – “rehoming.” Rehoming is the unregulated custody transfer of an adopted child to another person or household, usually by means of Yahoo message boards and bypassing child welfare systems or other child-protective agencies. The play makes parallels between the alienation the adopted Korean child Jeenu feels when he is left unwanted and rehomed and a lone wolf who is an outcast and cannot assimilate into its own society. 

The Wolf-Child Jeenu is portrayed as a wooden puppet (designed by Amanda Villalobos), manipulated by a puppeteer (marvelously performed by Mitchel Winter as both the puppet and the Wolf-Human story narrator). Winter wears semi-wolf garb -- a black hat with orange wolf ears. Wolf-Human comments on the inner feelings of the puppet, Wolf-Child Jeenu, and wolf behavior, in general, throughout the play. He adeptly provides the Wolf-Child puppet with a life-like presence, even though the puppet is primitive in design. Wolf-Child tries to adjust to and cope, but everything and everyone seems to threaten him. Wolf-Child reacts with feral animosity. However, there are moments when the Wolf-Child is calm and seemingly lets his guard down, trusting one of the humans. Without giving too much away, the puppet’s responses to other humans and interactions with his surroundings are captivating, and at times, emotionally wrenching through the adept puppeteering of Winter.

The design team complemented each other. Scenic designer You-Shin Chen's jam-packed alley-stage set, where the audience is on two sides of the stage, facing toward each other, offering an assortment of settings. A variety of props (by Patricia Marjorie) – from child’s toys to boxing equipment -- was key. The realistic and casual costume design is by Enver Chakartash. Barbara Samuels's accurate lighting design and Kate Marvin's precise sound design were spot on.

Winter defines his narrative "wolf" presence immediately by breaking through a refrigerator door as both the human actor/puppeteer and puppet, and announcing "What if I said I am not what you think you see?" Jung plays with the audience as to what is real or not: "The truth, “as Winter states after his Wolf/s entrance, "is a wobbly thing." 

The story highlights rehoming – this contemptible 21st Century phenomenon that has come to be ubiquitous in the Internet age. Jung’s “Wolf Play” abounds in theatrical invention and presents a “truth” not normally talked about – a social justice issue that is disturbing and abhorrent. In this true-to-life story (inspired by a 2013 Reuters article that Jung read about the injustice of the U.S. adoption system), Jung takes on rehoming in an illuminating and meaningful way.

Plexus Polaire’s adaptation of "Moby Dick" involved magical puppetry and stage illusion in never-before-seen ways.

Plexus Polaire's "Moby Dick" 

Reviewed by Cynthia Allen 

(1/16/23)

Magic comes in many forms -- stage illusion, bizarre magic, and other mesmerizing approaches to captivate audiences. The award-winning French-Norwegian puppetry company Plexus Polaire’s transformative production of "Moby Dick" involved magic in never-before-seen ways. Plexus Polaire's "Moby Dick" reinvented the Herman Melville classic using puppetry -- bewitching, magical puppetry. The Plexus Polaire production was co-presented in New York City by the Public Theater's Under the Radar experimental festival and NYU's Skirball Center. It featured seven puppeteer-actors (Daniel Collados, Viktor Lukawski, Andreu Martinez Costa, Cristina Iosif, Laëtitia Labre, Madeleine Barosen Herholdt, and Julian Spooner), three musicians (Guro Skumsnes Moe, Ane Marthe Sørlien Holen and Havard Skaset), and fifty puppets (by puppet makers Polina Borisova, Yngvild Aspeli, Manon Dublanc, Sébastien Puech, and Elise Nicod). Director Yngvild Aspeli assembled a phenomenally talented cast and unique design group. The combination of live performers and musicians, extraordinary puppets, and ingenious projections made for a jaw-dropping experience – a magical production taken to the highest level.

The visual enchantment began with numerous fish-puppets, fastened upon unseen sticks, swimming in a vast black sea of nothingness, when suddenly, an outline of a whale’s skeleton was revealed in the deep sea. The fish menagerie and whale then dissolved into a group of chanting puppet-sailors walking onto the stage. The sailor Ishmael -- at times played as a puppet, but more frequently seen as a human (played by Julian Spooner) -- narrated the show. Ishmael introduced the story and the destiny of those who ventured forth on Captain Ahab's ill-fated voyage: “... to finish or to start over…There are three types of men, the living, the dead, and those that go to sea.”

Our first encounter with the whales was brief, as they slowly swam across the stage in pods, dallied momentarily to show off the dexterity of the puppets. Whales ranged in size from two feet to six feet-plus. One of the breathtaking moments in this 90-minute show involved the chasing of the sperm whales. The ship, the Pequod, sent out rowboats to tail these massive beasts. The puppeteers lingered melodramatically once again emphasizing the puppets, before steam exploded from a from the whale’s blowhole. Excited sailor cries of “THAR SHE BLOWS” punctuated the moment. Suddenly, both boats and whales then flipped on their sides. This intentionally highlighted and changed the perspective of the scene into an overhead view of the action. Amidst this chaos, small harpoons flew across the stage, sinking into the whales. The suspension of disbelief was so effective that the size of puppets being under three feet in length was forgotten. They loomed large and otherworldly.
 

Costume designer Benjamin Moreau astutely styled the "premonitions of death" in the manner of classic Venetian Mardi Gras and opera motifs. These puppeteer-actors were costumed in dark blue robes with skeleton masks. On the other hand, the puppet-sailors wore period sailor garb -- some in colorful vests over gray t-shirts leaving their tattooed arms exposed and others in blue and white-striped long-sleeved shirts. Captain Ahab was decked out in a tattered orange jacket with a matching neck bandana over a long-sleeved blue shirt. True to his description in the novel, Ahab also is outfitted with a prosthetic left leg made of whale bone. Ahab, the "grim reaper-like" puppets, and the sailor puppets ranged from being meniscal (six inches) or gargantuan (over six feet). They appeared so life-like because of the clever manipulation of facial expressions, body gestures and movements. 

Expert lighting (Xavier Lescat & Vincent Loubiere ) concealed a scaffolding as a backdrop which provided the illusion of a ship’s deck. Their lighting effects aptly directed our attention throughout adding to the show’s wizardry. Xavier Lescat & Vincent Loubiere are virtuosos, master craftsmen at illusionary lighting effects.

Video projections (David Lejard-Ruffet) bring to life --both above and undersea -- rainstorms, aquatic life, a nautical map, and stars encircling the skies. In addition, Scenographer-Elisabeth Holager Lund designed the largest, most gigantic, believable whale ever experienced at theater. 

Sound design and effects (Raphaël Barani) were also key to providing the seafaring ambience of a tense drama. Maritime ballads, including a whale song, add to the eloquent, meaningful score (musicians/vocalists (Guro Skumsnes Moe, Ane Marthe Sorlien Holen, Havard Skaset). Storms felt real and imminent. What seemed like shanty songs added a fanciful dimension to the wordless chanting.

Plexus Polaire produced a rare feat. The company combined never-before-seen filmic techniques with astonishing puppetry and ingenious stagecraft, turning "Moby Dick" into an experience that will resonate with me forever. It was a joy to see the Public Theater’s experimental theater festival, Under the Radar, back in person for the first time since 2020, with such a mind-bending and magical production.