Hairspray Has Volume, Lacks Bounce

By Sarah Jarmon; photos by Alisabeth Von Presley

TCR - When Tracy Turnblad (Emma Drtina) rolled onstage in a perpendicular bed singing "Good Morning, Baltimore," I was immediately excited for what I was sure was going to be a rock solid production. The lights accented the interestingly angular set pieces and complemented the wildly-patterned costumes magnificently. But while the music was well-executed and the back-up singers were flawless, Tracy seemed slightly stiff and nervous. Throughout the production I waited for this feeling to smooth out into a more comfortable energy, but it never quite did.

This show, for me, was all about production values. The set design made excellent use of the stage, utilizing all of the vertical space for flown-in pieces like the sign for the Corny Collins Show and fencing and prison bars that descended from the rafters. There was great use of levels too, a giant can of hairspray loomed above the dancers in the last scene and a rising platform complete with stunning blue lights lifted Link Larkin, played by Josh Payne, a few feet above his back-up singers during "It Takes Two."

The director’s vision gave the show a multi-dimensional feel with the actors coming through the audience occasionally for entrances and transforming the theatre audience into the studio audience for the on-air dance competition. Some members of the crowd even appeared to get lightly dusted with glitter from confetti canons during the visually exciting finale.

Costumes were picture-perfect, showcasing all of the major elements of fashion in the early sixties. Colors blazed across every actor, patterns and hues made the characters pop. Even the props were well-chosen and expertly displayed.

There was a smattering of technical issues -- microphones crackling or simply not working -- that drove me crazy but the actors handled these mishaps gracefully.

Where the musical lacked, sadly, was in the caliber of the singing and dancing. The cast members weren’t bad -- they just weren’t stunning. Drtina has a rich, solid alto but had support issues in a few key places, most notably during "You Can’t Stop the Beat," where she dropped half a verse to catch her breath. And this was not the only place where song lyrics were dropped, there were also a few lines dropped during "Mama, I’m a Big Girl Now," albeit not by Tracy.

The sound issues also made it hard to hear soloists during big group numbers. And there were a few solos that should have had more power than they did Friday night. Deandrea Leigh Watkins, who played Motormouth Maybelle, again, had a good voice but her two songs lacked the punch needed to carry that character.

That is not to say there weren’t brilliant moments; Link Larkin had a beautiful voice. I would be lying if I said I didn’t have a little bit of a 14-year-old girl moment during "It Takes Two." And Ezekiel Pittmon, playing Seaweed J. Stubbs, nearly knocked me over during "Run and Tell That!" His voice was simultaneously silky and gritty, which sounds contradictory, but it’s the only way I can describe it. It was gorgeous. The Dynamite girls were also fantastic, prompting a lot of appreciative comments from the crowd both during the performance and in the lobby.

What disappointed me most, perhaps, was the dancing. In a musical about a dance competition I just expected more from the dance numbers. It’s important for me to note that, in order for the choreographer to remain true to the dances of the time, the choreography had to be fairly simplistic. As such, the dance scenes should have been tight. However I caught actors throwing glances at other cast mates to ensure they had the choreography right several times. This is acceptable if you’re in the back row but when you’re in the front, it’s very distracting.

The most exciting dancing happened in detention and in Motormouth Maybelle’s studio when Tracy, Penny, and Link went with Seaweed to dance there. Perhaps this is because the African-American dancers were supposed to be better than their counterparts on Corny’s show, making race the only reason that they weren’t allowed to be featured. After all, talent overcoming prejudice and racial intolerance is a major theme.

But this theme seemed to be a bit lost. During integration there was more strife. No one at Maybelle’s really seemed to mind that these white kids crashed their party. The people running the Corny Collins show really only seemed to think black people were a little bit bothersome. The stakes just weren’t there. The possibility of violence seemed to be nonexistent, even when all the dancers were locked up together. That is perhaps a sin that the script committed but its absence felt disingenuous.

However, there were lovely honest moments too. Michael Holmes as Edna Turnblad, Tracy’s mother, was a comforting and lovable character, although I would have loved for her to have had more make-up and a wig earlier than she did because I just didn’t see her as a woman without make-up on, I saw a man who called himself Tracy’s mother. Still, the relationship between Edna and Wilbur (Mark Baumann) was endearing, and rendered “(You’re) Timeless to Me” one of my favorite songs in the show.

My other favorite song of the evening was probably “I Can Hear the Bells.” The unrequited longing rang so true that my chest ached for Tracy, even as she practically ran over her best friend who was there to support her.

This was a good show; there were just a lot of issues. I’d definitely see it again, the music was fun and fresh, the moral a good one, and the production elements alone make it worth the ticket price. TCR has set itself a high standard for excellence, and in my opinion Hairspray did not quite meet that mark on Friday. I may have been the only one with that opinion, however; the crowd certainly loved it. When the final note of "You Can’t Stop the Beat" rang out, there was a standing ovation.

Hairspray runs through July 28, 7:30 Thursday through Saturday and 2:30 Sunday, on TCR's mainstage. Tickets are $25-30 ($20 student/youth).

Fourth Room Theatre Breaks Into the Iowa City Scene with Closer

by Sarah Jarmon

Iowa City - I have spent the majority of my adult life dealing with relationships; my own, those that have sprung up and fallen around me, those that ought to have crumbled long before they did, and those that seem as though they will last forever. As members of the Disney generation, my fellow twenty somethings and I have been set up to fail at love from birth. Fooled by the lie of “happily ever after,” we have been particularly bruised by our own romantic ineptitude.

Fourth Room Theatre's production of Closer is like a salve to sooth those wounds. Not because it makes you feel good, this isn’t a feel good play, but because it allows you to feel as though finally someone’s willing to tell it like it is. As Larry, one of the plays two men puts it, “Thank God life ends—we'd never survive it. From Big Bang to weary shag, the history of the world. Our flesh is ferocious...our bodies will kill us...our bones will outlive us.”

This play is one of the only honest dialogues I have ever been privy to on the subject of romantic love, and as devastating as it is, one cannot help but breathe a sigh of relief that “Oh, it’s not just me. Love punishes everyone.” Director Angie Toomsen guides us through this conversation without kid gloves making neither more, nor less, of the script than it offers, letting the audience make of it what they will.

A clean stage with minimalistic set pieces and props allows us to focus on the actors who are unfailingly exquisite in their depiction of human selfishness, loveliness, and passion. The structural backdrop is the perfect scenery for this play, artfully becoming a hospital, an aquarium, a photography studio, and two different peoples’ bedrooms simultaneously through the careful placement of plain white boxes.

The shortcoming of being staged in Chait Galleries is the lack of technical flexibility. Scenes changed with an audible click when the light switch was flipped. This was slightly distracting, though happily these moments book-ended scenes, so the action flowed uninterrupted.

One scene, easily the filthiest and funniest scene in the play, was lost to some viewers on the far right side of the audience because of the technical difficulties inherent in staging an online conversation. Posts from a chat room were projected in the only viable position in the space, but nevertheless were invisible to the unfortunate few out of the line of sight. The actors in this scene were more than equal to that unfortunate situation however, upon realizing the problem they immediately began vocalizing their posts, so as not to leave anyone out of the joke.

The actors were able to do that because they were tuned in, at every moment, to what was happening around them. This is freaking breathtaking when it happens, and it almost never does. This is especially important when dealing with the kind of material this play offers.

This script, often funny, often heartbreaking, is artfully written in such a ways as to sound completely natural…if your actors are up to the task. The fact is, if put in the wrong hands this play would be plodding, painful, and slow. The characters would come off as complete jerks who don’t care about anyone but themselves. Which to some extent, they are, but only to the extent that most people are.

In the hands of this capable company, nuances were delicately realized and though the plot jumps large gaps of time between scenes, we always know where the characters are. More importantly we are able to see these people for what they are, confused, careless slaves to both their passions and the information they are given. And while it is easy to blame them for their indiscretions, it is easy to sympathize with them as well.

Ottavia De Luca is, as described, disarming as Alice, an on-again, off-again stripper with a guarded past and a cheeky disposition. It is easy to love her, this girl who scoffs at the notion of falling in love. “That's the most stupid expression in the world. 'I fell in love'—as if you had no choice. There's a moment, there's always a moment; I can do this, I can give in to this or I can resist it. I don't know when your moment was but I bet there was one.” Sexy, saucy, and determined to get what she wants, she embodies the desperate nature of young love and the incomprehensible ache of its loss.

The more mature but no less foolish Anna shows us that even once you have been burned you are no less at the mercy of your own passions. But Anna, stoically portrayed by Rachel Korach Howell, seems to be already defeated at the outset. She is strong but soft, proclaiming resistance but giving in to temptation repeatedly. When confronted she fights, but when reasoned with she relents. Howell navigates this difficult terrain with a quiet fire behind her beautiful eyes and we long for her to find what she is looking for.

The two men, Dan, played by K. Michael Moore, and Larry, delivered by Matthew James, are equally careless and tragic. Dan is, on the surface, a man who wants what he can’t have and once he gets it no longer wants it. But in reality he simply longs for perfection, a crime none of us is innocent of committing. And though his actions are often deplorable, his confliction and affection is no less evident. And when he eventually loses Alice for good, his grief is so racking that tears flowed freely from a large majority of the audience.

Larry, Anna’s husband, could be portrayed many ways, none of them flattering, but Matthew James manages to capture the redeemable pieces of this man magnificently. He is a pitiably obsessed fool who is incapable of thinking outside of himself. And yet…you want him to improve. You want him to better himself. He’s like the lecherous friend that all of your other friends hate, but you understand him, and you can’t help but want to help him.

This play is long, but well worth the twelve dollar admission. If you enjoy character driven plays with a mix of disturbing drama and wicked humor, you will love Closer. The show continues December 15, 16, 17 at 7:30 p.m. Tickets are $12. Seating is intimate and limited so please reserve your tickets by calling/texting 319-541-0038 or email fourthroomtheatre@gmail.com.

Local Theatre With A Twist

by Sarah Jarmon

Cedar Rapids - SPT Theatre Company never fails to put on a good show. But Friday night, within the slick, yet familiar interior of the newly renovated CSPS building, they blew me away, and I was not the only one. Tales from the Writer's Room is a singular experience in this town. A sketch show feel spliced with powerhouse vocal performances and a comfortable lack of barriers between the audience and the performers makes this somewhat expensive ticket well worth the admission price.

Mary Sullivan along with this installment's special guest, Scott Humeston, opened the show with a bitingly funny bit about the farmer and his wife from Grant Wood's American Gothic playing twister according to the direction of a disembodied voice from the beyond.

Twister was the theme for the evening and it was weaved through every piece. It was also showcased by the dangling twister board hanging above the stage, though I'm not sure I liked this touch. The white plastic board, even when it wasn't lit, drew your eyes, and was slightly distracting during some of the more serious pieces.

But serious, certainly did not dominate the evening. One of the things I appreciate most about Tales from the Writers Room is the seemingly effortless ability that the writers have to hit every possible genre without any of the pieces feeling forced or out of left field. The exuberant hilarity of "Straight Up with a Twist," a game show/reality TV series piece, poked fun at local regions as effectively as the hypnotizing and sweetly flawless monologue, "Endings," drew you into the world of a woman at the end of her marriage. And every piece slid into the next with a liquid grace, tied in perfectly by every apt song choice superbly executed by the band.

And if you've never been to an SPT show, even if you HATE theatre, come for the band. Filling the space and setting people dancing, literally dancing in their chairs, is an all star concoction of musical genius. Whether it was a keyboard solo from the inspiring Gerard Estella, or a magical riff flowing forth from the fingers of Ron DeWitte on Guitar, every song the band hit was a testament to their unbelievable skill. Add in the nearly discordant but somehow delicious and haunting vocals of Janelle Lauer, Jane Pini, and Doug Elliot and you have a powerful combination of rock and soul. The band also helped showcase the original song, "Twister" and the the melodious and surprisingly delightful singing voice of SPT company member, Jason Alberty, in the song "Giant-Sized Butterflies."

This is not to say that the show was perfect. There were a spattering of lighting issues that left some people in the dark a bit longer than they should have been. Gerard accidentally knocked a set piece askew during a transition. But those few slight missteps just brought you closer to the performers, making you feel like you were a part of the show. And the company clearly wanted audience participation, encouraging dancing and clapping, and cracking up during a few particularly funny skits. It felt natural and inclusive.

And the actors were so much fun to watch. It felt like a gift to just be able to sit there and watch them play together. Alberty and Humeston played particularly well together, whether they were doddering old men, looking forward to dressing up in the perfect costume to snare a saucy biddy on Halloween this year, or pantomiming mixing a drink of epic proportions on an eastern Iowa game show. Akwi Nji and Mary Sullivan were adorable and generous onstage too, complimenting the high-octane effervescence offered by Adam Witte, Humeston, and Alberty well.

The energy ebbed and flowed, even after the 20 minute intermission. I will say that as the show started late, I did begin to feel the length of the event by the end. But just when I was reaching for my phone to check the time, the whole feverish wonder came to a magnificent ending. I can't wait till the next show, December 3rd and 4th. I hope you'll meet me there. Even if you can't, tell your friends. And if you haven't seen the new CSPS building, check it out. It's gorgeous.

Get a Taste of TCR's Superior Doughnuts

by Sarah Jarmon

Cedar Rapids - Having been a part of Theatre Cedar Rapids' Underground Festival last year, I knew that the Grandon Studio, where I had the pleasure of seeing Tracy Letts' Superior Doughnuts Saturday night, was going to be an excellent venue for actors and audience members alike. The energy amidst the nearly full house had me almost as intrigued as the set, a quaint little shop with an old fashioned cash register, gleaming bar stools, and the word "Pussy" angrily etched upon the wall like a scarlet brand.

A little bell on the door of this aged establishment announced entrances and exits with a tinkling kind of punctuation. And throughout the course of the show, the actors painted us a word picture of the old neighborhood where this fading small business stood; the last remaining piece of a man whose dreams had been forgotten or purposely left behind.

Audience members sat on three sides of the stage which created some sight line issues. And though these issues were acknowledged in Leslie Charipar's curtain speech, I did feel like there were a few scenes where altering the blocking could have increased visibility without distracting from the story, which was quite good.

An oldies tune, reminiscent of 50's diners and old sitcoms, welcomes the audience to the first scene. Max, a neighboring business owner, is making a statement to the local cops about finding the doughnut shop with the window smashed in and the derogatory graffiti on the wall. Steve Worthington, as Max, has a thick accent and a larger than life manner about him. He is equal parts lovable goof and ignorant fool. Worthington executes this nebulous territory well, delivering his lines in such a way that instead of a jerk, we are able to see him as a well-meaning, albeit a bit clueless, fellow who is consistently crossing the line and then back-pedaling hard once he realizes he has done so. His loud, physically exuberant demeanor is in stark contrast to Arthur, the owner of Superior Doughnuts and an unapologetic hippie with a long gray pony-tail.

Arthur has, for lack of a better word, issues. He is loath to open up, and terrified of taking risks, which has made him cynical and lonely. So when a starry-eyed, silver-tongued 21-year-old named Franco bounds into his store and convinces Arthur to give him a job, it is only a matter of time before they clash. But amidst their many disagreements an unlikely friendship blossoms.

Arthur, played with charming delicacy by Steve Weiss, seems to be a bit of a lost soul. He shuffles his feet and seems determined not to meet anyone’s eye during scenes. That is not to say that he didn't connect, quite the contrary, but he engages in a sort of fight or flight manner, utilizing either soft tones and casual gestures or yelling gruffly with his whole body. Weiss never let you fall out of the story, even during the monologues between scenes where you learn about his past. He tells his tale with such conviction and simple grace that you could almost be sitting at a table with him, having a beer.

His new employee, Franco, played by Brandon McDaniel, tries again and again to open Arthur’s eyes to new possibilities and endless opportunities. He spouts ideas on everything from revamping the shop to boost the business and updating his style to elicit the affections of the dorky and lovable lady cop, Randy, played by Nicolette Coiner-Winn, who Franco insists is interested in Arthur.

McDaniel sweeps you up in his energy and makes you want to realize his dreams. He charges onto the stage and lights it up, making us smile again and again. He is the kind of character you wish was one of your real-life friends. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have a past, and his penchant for looking at the sky has made him forget to watch where he's walking, and he's stepped into a dangerous mess.

Scott Davidson as Luther, a bookie Franco owes a lot of money, delivers an air of dangerous that appears effortless. Going from a good-natured lament of his kids playing too many video games to screaming a demand for his money in such a believable temper flare that my heart pounded. Luther’s flunkie, Kevin, played by Nathan Bowden, was funny and intimidating, too, stalking across the stage with an angular bravado that put me to mind of cartoon villains and your standard noir film thugs.

This is a play with a lot of angles. It touches on hope, on fear, and the many social aspects of inner city life. But it stays away from preaching and is never heavy handed. The plot does occasionally feel a bit contrived, and the fight scene did not actually make me fear for the actors, but the characters were well-rounded, perfectly flawed people. They were kind of people that you know. That dedication coupled with the intense monologues that threaded through the play between scenes lent just the right degree of stylized unreality that made this a really enjoyable journey.

This is a gritty, odd, and wonderful play to christen the Grandon as TCR’s newest performance space. Being in such close proximity made me shrink away from Arthur’s wrath, lean in to comfort Randy, and allowed me to see the constantly working jaws of BJ Moeller, the down on her luck Lady. I fell in love with the characters, despite their mistakes, and because of their shortcomings. And even as I write this review, I am not sure whether this play was a tragedy or a comedy. Because though it was funny from beginning to end, it was rife with the tragic realism that life is made of. Go see it and maybe you can tell me, and bring a friend, because you’ll want to discuss it afterward.

Guys and Dolls Entertains from Beginning to End

by Sarah Jarmon

Cedar Rapids - I had a rough week, so when Friday night came around, I was exhausted. I was cranky, worn out, and just a little bit bitter about life in general. But I had a commitment to review Theatre Cedar Rapids' production of Guys and Dolls, and I keep my commitments. I have never been more glad that this is the case.

I was a little concerned going in that due to my terrible mood I might be too hard on the show. I might find myself less forgiving or overly critical. The fact of the matter was however, they gave me very little to criticize.

From the moment the overture began and the lights dimmed on that brilliant red curtain, my troubles seemed to melt away. The curtain rose on a tableau of vibrantly colored characters on a darkly attractive set. The music, reminiscent of classic Broadway, had me tapping my toes and fighting the urge to dance in my seat.

Fugue for Tinhorns, the first song, sung by Nicely Nicely (Zach Parker), Benny (Stephen Brandt), and Rusty (Jeff Parry) opened the action of the play with punctuated choreography and a delightful harmony. The audience, as one, lit up for what was undoubtedly going to be a show that knocked our socks off. And we were not disappointed.

Now I am not, in general, a musical kind of girl. I have, on occasion, earned myself the title of theatre snob. Usually, I feel that straight plays offer better acting and more interesting staging than musicals do. TCR's Guys and Dolls either proved the exception to that belief, or broke it entirely.

Mary Rinderspacher was absolutely delightful as Miss Sarah Brown. Her sweetly pious nature and indomitable spirit made me root for her from the moment I first saw her standing on her soap box. Her physicality, from the purposeful way she moved across the stage to the indignant slap she gave Sky after he kissed her, was childlike and adorable enough to make you feel protective of her, but never came across as weak. And during I'll Know, when we were first graced with the full beauty of her breathtaking soprano, everyone in the theater fell in love with her. During Marry the Man Today, her duet with Heather Akers, her airy tones blended with Heather's more tinny sound in a uniquely wonderful way. She took the stage and shared the stage in equal measures and was an absolute joy to watch.

Sky Masterson, played by seasoned performer Trevor Debth, masterfully grew from a smarmy scoundrel to a love-struck gentlemen without ever seeming disingenuous or forced. Though he was manipulative, you couldn't help but like him, maybe because he never claimed to be a good guy. His relationship with Sarah, and his strange friendship with the charmingly corrupt Nathan Detroit, played by Jonathan Swenson, made you believe that people can change, but you can bet that they're doin' it for some doll.

Nathan Detroit's doll, Miss Adelaid, was played by the singular Heather Akers, whose enchantingly batty portrayal put me to mind of a blond Betty Boop. Sexy, dippy, and darling, you understand why Nathan's in love with the dame. And when she gets together with her Hot Box Girls the stunning dance routines and slightly off color jokes that resulted were pure entertainment. From these energetic numbers to the slower, Adelaide's Lament, I could not keep my eyes off her.

This is definitely an ensemble show, and everyone in it shines. Guys and dolls alike hit every note and step of the familiar songs and dazzling choreography with pizzazz. The guys, offering cartoonish villains like John Ryal as the endearingly ominous Big Jule, are hilarious. The dolls drip with glamour and talent. Even the Mission Band is spot on, most notably Gene Whiteman, who received possibly the longest and loudest applause of the evening at the end of his undeniably touching rendition of More I Cannot Wish You. When the last beautiful note of his song left the air, there were quite a few people discreetly wiping their eyes.

But the actors were not the only stars in this play. The set was gorgeous. Upon first glance it seemed clean and simple, but scene after scene it afforded the actors with several different locations to play in. It opened and moved and changed completely with the slightest adjustment. Only one scene change was off, when a rotating booth on the upper level had a locking mechanism that seemed to stick. It was fixed almost immediately however and didn't really take away from the show. The walls were dressed with the classic Coca-Cola sign, and other lighted advertisements that gave the whole thing that big city feel without overwhelming the characters. Nooks and crannies came into view only when an actor unexpectedly emerged from it. Which happened quite often. The actors found every level available and used the set magnificently.

There was possibly one missed opportunity. During the second night of the floating crap game, when the guys have relocated to an underground venue, Sky goes down through the trapdoor to find them. As he descends the set is transformed by pipes and a ladder lowering onto the stage to take us into the sewers with him. A fantastic dance takes place during The Crapshooter's Ballet where all kinds of technically amazing steps portray the wonder of gambling and winning. I waited with baited breath for Sky to come down the ladder that had descended. Sadly I was disappointed. He entered from a side door on the highest platform on the set, but as that ladder had come down I really, really wanted him to use it. Of course I forgot this minor disappointment the moment he launched into Luck Be A Lady. The staging of this crowd favorite lent us a a sense of tension that built to a crescendo throughout the song, even for those of us who knew how the dice came out.

The lighting was elegant and attractive, casting bright highlights and interesting shadows that emphasized the lush, evocative costumes from Joni Sackett's designs. Purples, reds, oranges, and other vivid colors splashed all over without ever being garish or overwhelming. And the direction ensured that this show, which I am told is quite long, flew by. The timing was perfect. When it ended, to a standing ovation, I am sure I wasn't the only one who wished there was more to see.

Thoroughly entertaining from beginning to end, this is not a show to miss. TCR's Guys and Dolls reminds me why we go to the theatre. We go to forget our own lives, to laugh, to cry, to see a story that unfolds and makes us believe again that everything can turn out right. I could really go on and on about this performance, but I always hate it when someone gives away the best parts of a show, so suffice it to say, buy yourself a ticket for next weekend today and thank me later.