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      Competition: Win tickets for Little Boxes in Manchester

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      Whilst 99% of our coverage is in London, that doesn’t mean there isn’t theatre outside of the capital. Manchester is a perfect example, we are certainly seeing more and more happening up in the North West. We even have a couple of reviewers lurking and we’re always looking for more (if you’re interested do get in touch, more info here).

      So, our latest competition is the opportunity to win a pair of tickets to see Alphamum Productions‘ Little Boxes when it plays at Manchester’s 53two in November (prize can be for either 16 or 17 November). There are four ways to enter, and we’ll count each one as a seperate entry, so you can quadruple your chances.

      Email us at competitions@everything-theatre.co.uk with “Great things come in little boxes” in the subject line.Share our pinned Facebook post and comment below the original post “Great things come in #littleboxes”.Quote tweet this Twitter post with the phrase “Great things come in #littleboxes”.Like this Instagram post and comment “Great things come in #littleboxes”.

      Do you spot the trend in all the ways to enter? Entries must be made by 7pm on 29 October 2021.

      Terms and conditions for the competition can be found below.

      If you aren’t successful in the competition, you can still buy tickets to see this show via the below link.

      Little Boxes

      After a successful run at VAULT Festival 2020, with sell out shows, multiple 4- and 5- star reviews and an “Offie” Short Run Commendation, Little Boxes is coming to Manchester.

      “… ticks all the right boxes” London Pub Theatres ★★★★

      Little Boxes follows Joann Condon (Little Britain, Dad’s Army the Lost Episodes), as she explores the boxes she has “found herself in” throughout her life:  The hopes and dreams of a child, the frustrations of an acting career, the tensions of being a parent, the grief in losing loved ones, the fear of being…herself.

      “Condon promises we will laugh and cry … and laugh and cry we did” Phoenix Remix

      Described as “funny, touching and at times heartbreaking,” by London Pub Theatres, Joann uses personal anecdotes to highlight assumptions and judgements made about her based-on looks, age, gender and background.  This phenomenon of classifying people is called ‘social categorization’ by psychologists, and most of us can relate to these experiences.

      “a joyful delve into one woman’s life, celebrating the successes, the heartbreak, and everything in between” The Plays the Thing

       ★★★★★ Spy in the Stalls                             ★★★★ Broadway Baby

       ★★★★     Theatre Weekly                           ★★★★ London Theatre1

      “It’s natural for people in our lives to want to force us into nice little boxes,” says Condon, “but the scary thing is, you often end up putting yourself in that same box.” 

      We want to use these performances in Manchester to launch a tour in 2022 and look forward to bringing Little Boxes to a broader audience.

      To make the performance more accessible we will be having a BSL interpreted performance on Wednesday 17th November at 7:30pm and we also have 2 tickets at £2 for each performance for unemployed or low income audience members.

      Starring: Joann CondonWritten by: Joann Condon and Leonie RachelDirected by: Daniel BrennanProduced by: Alphamum Productions and Lights Down Productions

      T&C’S

      The prize is for two tickets to a performance of Little Boxes at Manchester’s 53Two on either 16 or 17 October 2021. No alternative dates or cash alternative is available.

      Competition closes at 7pm on Friday 29 October 2021. Winner will be selected at random from all eligible entries, and will be notified no more than 3 days after the closing date. The winner has 3 days to accept the prize and provide contact details, otherwise a new winner will be chosen at random.  All additional expenses are the responsibility of the prize winner. Editor’s decision is final. More

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      ‘Thoughts of a Colored Man,’ From University to Broadway

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      The playwright Keenan Scott II, the director Steve H. Broadnax III and others discuss how “a timeless piece” for Black actors has evolved over 15 years.Plays by August Wilson were nowhere to be found in the syllabuses of Frostburg State University’s theater classes when Keenan Scott II attended the Maryland school in the mid-2000s. Nor were works by Lorraine Hansberry, Amiri Baraka, Adrienne Kennedy or Lynn Nottage.But there was Ntozake Shange’s pioneering “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow Is Enuf,” from 1975.Scott, who is making his Broadway debut as the author of the recently opened “Thoughts of a Colored Man,” said a class screening of the Shange work was his first — and essentially his only — exposure to theater by Black playwrights in college. And just as Shange coined the term “choreopoem” for her hybrid form, Scott began to describe “Thoughts,” his senior project, as “slam narrative.”The word “colored” brings with it a very different set of associations now than it did in 1975, when segregated drinking fountains and restrooms were only a decade in the past. And yet that word is both in the title of Scott’s play and more than 21 feet wide on the billboard at the center of Robert Brill’s set at the John Golden Theater.Like Shange (whose “choreopoem” is heading to Broadway next year), Scott has created a mosaic of speeches, poems and songs for seven performers of color. (And neither playwright identified their characters by name; Scott instead calls them such traits as Happiness, Love and Depression.) But when “Thoughts of a Colored Man” premiered in 2019 at Syracuse Stage in New York and then moved to Baltimore Center Stage, it also featured two female dancers and an onstage D.J. All three are gone, as are swaths of the original text. Only the Tony Award nominee Forrest McClendon (“The Scottsboro Boys”) remains from that cast.Scott and McClendon recently sat down with the “Thoughts” director, Steve H. Broadnax III, and Brian Moreland, a lead producer of the show, to discuss how the play has evolved, especially in the last two years. Their interviews have been edited and condensed.Forrest McClendon, second from right, with, from left: Tristan Mack Wilds, Dyllón Burnside and Da’Vinchi in “Thoughts of a Colored Man” at the Golden Theater.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesIs “Thoughts of a Colored Man” on some level a response to “For Colored Girls”? Or is it its own thing?KEENAN SCOTT II I’m inspired by the works of Ntozake and many others, but it’s completely its own thing. I liked the word “colored” because it causes a visceral response. To this day, people ask, “Why say ‘colored’? Why use ‘colored’? We don’t use that no more.” But that is the point. There was a time when we were labeled “colored.” And through the journey of the piece, you see why these men shouldn’t be labeled.FORREST McCLENDON Ntozake was writing for colored girls to have something to do. And Keenan was writing for colored men to literally have something to do. For us to be represented onstage.STEVE H. BROADNAX III The genre that Keenan coined, “slam narrative,” is loose plot — that’s the difference. You can take, say, “Def Poetry Jam” on Broadway, which is a bunch of poetry and poets that you can put in any type of mixture. But here, if you take one out, it starts to mess up the loose plot. So he’s really created something new. “For Colored Girls” doesn’t have a loose plot to it, but this does.If I’m understanding the title correctly, do these seven men also add up to, essentially, one human?SCOTT Absolutely. These are, these could be, seven parts of the same man. We can all be some of these things. We can all be all of these things.How much has the piece changed since Syracuse and Baltimore?SCOTT It’s really just a re-investigation of these characters, to make sure they all had their individual journeys. Some monologues have been added. A new scene here and there. We knew that some characters were a little more shallow than others, and we wanted to make sure that all of them are equally robust.Luke James in the play, which Scott describes as a “slam narrative.” Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesCan you point to any specific examples?SCOTT I started writing this piece when I was 19, so originally these characters all hovered around 20 years old, because that’s where I was in life. Fifteen years later, being a 34-year-old man who’s married with a child, my sense of the world has deepened. I’ve been with this piece so long that I’ve literally grown up with these characters. And through development, the characters started to grow as well. So now the characters range from 18 to 65 years old.BROADNAX The connections between each of the characters have changed. We discovered, for instance, how Love and Lust connected with each other. You now have all of these “aha” moments to see how they are all interconnected.Do you think the piece would look or feel different if you had opened on Broadway directly from Baltimore, which was the plan before the shutdown?SCOTT As Steve says all the time, everything happens in divine order. I think the show would have been just as great. But it would have been different.BRIAN MORELAND After Baltimore, Keenan went through a private workshop with himself, writing.SCOTT We moved to Baltimore so quick after Syracuse. I was taking notes, and there were certain things that just couldn’t be implemented quick enough. So that’s when I went into that private workshop. And then Covid happened, and we had all the time in the world.When I saw it in Syracuse, there were also two women in the cast. What happened to them?BROADNAX We discovered that this was a story, and a space, for these Black men. The women are still very much a part of their worlds. They are there in media; they are there in spirit; they are there in language. But we thought this was a space for the men.MORELAND You go out of town so you can have a safe space to experiment. In addition to the female dancers, there was also a D.J. who was originally part of the production. All of these elements kept evolving and changing.McCLENDON Music and movement and media are all super important in terms of this play, but the star of this play is the text. And anything that in any way upstaged the text — including the actors — had to take its rightful place on the periphery. For me, in both Syracuse and Baltimore, the discovery about the women came from women in the audience. They felt it was a story really about men.SCOTT I’ve known from day one that the spectrum of the Black man is rarely, rarely shown, especially on Broadway. We don’t have that space. That’s what I wanted to create 15 years ago for myself and my peers who felt excluded from an art form we were studying.The show opened on Broadway on Oct. 13, over two weeks earlier than originally planned. Jeenah Moon for The New York TimesYou were scheduled to open Oct. 31, and then opening night suddenly moved up by two weeks. Openings shift all the time, but in the other direction. What prompted the move?MORELAND Their dress rehearsal. Their first preview. Their second preview. The audiences clamoring to see these men, hear these stories, hear Keenan’s words. That’s what prompted the change. Because it was ready.When you sat back down to write, Keenan, did you feel like the play needed to be different because the world felt different?SCOTT That’s a tricky question for me. I started writing this play when George W. Bush was president. So that’s three administrations ago. A lot has changed, and a lot hasn’t. People often ask me how the events around George Floyd affected me. For the Black community, George Floyd wasn’t new. When I started writing this piece, I was loosely inspired about what was going on in my community in Queens when Sean Bell was killed [in a police shooting]. A lot of the themes that I cover in the play are as ever-present as they were 15 years ago. I feel like I created a timeless piece that can live, but it saddens me as well, because I would have hoped that these issues would have been solved by now.Do you feel as if a lot of people in the audience on Broadway are only now beginning to understand what you have known this whole time?McCLENDON The thing that radically shifted is that the American theater shut down. Audiences had an opportunity to step back and really ask themselves about what they’d been consuming. We’re dealing with longstanding, oppressive practices, but this is an industry that is usually willing to look in the mirror. To look at itself and stare. In what ways are we complicit? I think we’re in a new moment. And I think the play is a huge part of representing that. More

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      Interview: Ardent Theatre asks us to Rethink

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      Andrew Muir and Georgia Bates on new play Rethink and the struggles for actors outside of London

      For our latest podcast interview we caught up with Andrew Muir, writer and joint Creative Director of Ardent Theatre, and Georgia Bates, who will be appearing in their latest production, Rethink, which is on at The Union Theatre from 26 to 30 October.

      The pair talk about how the play was inspired by this 2020 government ad campaign suggesting those in the arts could retrain during lockdown for alternative careers. We also delve into the difficulties of becoming an actor when you live outside of London, and don’t have the financial backing to relocate full time to London.

      You can follow us on Spotify or Itunes (plus many other other podcast providers) for future editions of our interview series. Further information can be found on our Podcast here

      Rethink @ Union Theatre

      Graduation is a day full of celebration and joy. The cloaks, the hats, the bubbles and the dreams all laid bare for the world to see. In July 2020, that class of graduating students had little to celebrate. There were no cloaks, no hats, possibly a bubble but whatever dreams there were, they were soon cut short when the world shut down.

      Rethink is a play about the aftermath of that sunny July in 2020, when six graduates from a performing arts course on the South Coast of England, are encouraged to think again, in the wake of theatre closures and lack of opportunity. What choice do they have? According to a Government-backed advertising campaign their next job could be in cyber, they just don’t know it yet. So, there’s the choice. It’s as easy as that. Isn’t it?

      Rethink plays between 26 and 30 October. Bookings via the below link. Tickets just £10 plus £1 booking fee. More

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      The Moment of Death, Live Onstage

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      The Swiss provocateur Milo Rau’s latest work explores the ethics of voluntary euthanasia with real footage of an assisted suicide.DOUAI, France — A serene woman greets the audience at “Grief & Beauty,” the Swiss theater director Milo Rau’s latest production. As spectators take their seats, she appears on a video screen above the stage, silent, in a red sweater and black-rimmed glasses. Then, minutes into the show, we learn that Johanna, as she is identified, died on Aug. 28 — by choice and in Belgium, where euthanasia is legal.Real footage of Johanna’s death is the macabre centerpiece of “Grief & Beauty,” the second installment in Rau’s “Trilogy of Private Life.” The first, “Familie,” recreated a family’s real-life collective suicide in eerie detail. Like “Familie,” “Grief & Beauty” had its premiere in Ghent, Belgium, where Rau is the artistic director of the NTGent theater. This month, the show traveled to Le Tandem, a playhouse in the northern French city of Douai. Further tour dates are scheduled in France and the Netherlands.“Grief & Beauty” flirts even more closely with the choice to die than “Familie.” Instead of turning the subject matter into a drama, Rau actually shows us the moment a lethal injection killed Johanna. Yet while she is the heart of “Grief & Beauty,” the production barely scratches the surface of her life.Voluntary euthanasia, which is legal in only a handful of countries, has become a subject of fascination for Europe’s experimental theatermakers in recent years. In 2018, the Belgian choreographer Alain Platel also filmed a dying woman and played the footage throughout his 100-minute work “Requiem for L.” The next year, Marcos Ariel Hourmann, a doctor convicted of practicing euthanasia in Spain, where it is illegal, put on an interactive show in which he asked the audience members to judge him.“Grief & Beauty,” like Platel’s production, was created with the consent of everyone involved, and Rau details in an interview in the program the research that went into the production. His team, including the four actors onstage, met with health care workers and bereaved relatives, as well as patients suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. Some of them also visited Johanna last summer, we are told during the show.Princess Isatu Hassan Bangura, who was born in Sierra Leone, in “Grief & Beauty.”Michiel DevijverYet for most of it, Johanna takes a back seat to the actors’ stories. Instead of zeroing in on euthanasia, Rau assembled a motley cast of professionals and amateurs who have all experienced grief, albeit in different ways. Arne de Tremerie talks eloquently about his mother’s multiple sclerosis; Staf Smans, the oldest cast member, recounts the deaths of his sister, mother and daughter in quick succession. Princess Isatu Hassan Bangura, who was born in Sierra Leone, touches on another kind of pain —— that of being exiled and losing, as she puts it, her “African side.”Each of these performers speaks either directly to the auditorium or to a camera positioned to the right of the stage, which relays their monologues on the screen above. In keeping with Rau’s habit of mixing reality with semi-fictional scenes, they then perform vignettes set in an apartment. A kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom are visible; at one point, an actor mentions that several items in the décor, including a handmade quilt, belonged to Johanna.Here and there, the script returns to her life. We learn that she witnessed the bombing of Rotterdam in the Netherlands during World War II, when she was 4; that she loved classical music; and that she once performed as a singer at NTGent. Out of the hours members of Rau’s team spent with her, it’s not much. Instead, she hovers mostly silently above “Grief & Beauty,” her eyes and expression alive and sympathetic.Before her death is shown, Johanna speaks briefly. “I always said I would go with a smile,” she says, before adding: “I have a lot of sleep to catch up on.” The injection follows.We watch as one of her eyes closes involuntarily, and her breathing becomes halted. In Douai, some around me cried openly. (Euthanasia is illegal in France, but according to an April survey by IFOP, one of the country’s leading polling organizations, 93 percent of French people support it in cases of terminal illness.)“Dido’s Lament” from Henry Purcell’s opera “Dido and Aeneas,” which opens “Grief & Beauty,” returns at this moment, along with more personal anecdotes from the cast. Yet no matter how hard Rau tries to interweave their stories with Johanna’s, her presence is overpowering. She belonged in a production of her own.Death has also long haunted the repertoire of the French director and choreographer Gisèle Vienne. This fall, audiences in France have a chance to revisit those works: The Festival d’Automne à Paris, a prestigious annual event taking place across numerous venues in the French capital, is devoting a retrospective to Vienne. Her latest production, “The Pond,” was presented at the Théâtre Paris-Villette in September, and revivals of several older works are scheduled before the end of the year.“Kindertotenlieder,” created by the French director and choreographer Gisèle Vienne. Mathilde Darel“Kindertotenlieder,” created in 2007, returned this month for four performances at the Centre Pompidou with a new cast — that is, a new human cast, since the stage is mostly populated with highly realistic dolls and robots. When “Kindertotenlieder” starts, it’s difficult to gauge just how many of the hunched-over teenagers in the darkened, snow-covered space are real.When the five actors do move and speak, “Kindertotenlieder” is no less disquieting. Although there is no linear story, the murder of a teenager by one of his peers gives a starting point. When the murdered boy’s ghost, the killer and others talk, it’s often to themselves, and the American writer Dennis Cooper’s text for the production is as chilling as it is over-the-top. (Sample line: “When I grow up, I want to behead your wife and kids.”)While the play’s title, which means “Songs on the Death of Children,” is borrowed from a song cycle by Gustav Mahler, the live music — introduced as a “memorial concert” for the dead boy — is by the duo KTL. To their moody, emo-adjacent songs, slow, violent interactions play out: A doll is strangled; two men kiss before one shoves the other, viciously.In “Kindertotenlieder,” as in “Grief & Beauty,” death is at the fingertips of the living. Neither production is for the faint of heart, but compared with the relentless angst of Vienne’s teenagers, there is relief in watching Johanna say her peaceful goodbye in “Grief & Beauty.” From time to time, reality still manages to be more soothing than fiction. More

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      Review: ‘Songs for a New World,’ Stuck in Another Time

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      Jason Robert Brown’s show is beginning to show its age, but Carolee Carmello’s deft performance lifts an otherwise straightforward revival.MILLBURN, N.J. — Jason Robert Brown is a composer-lyricist who knows how to write the perfect audition song: an entire character arc in a tidy, self-contained package that allows a performer the opportunity deliver a complete story.It’s a skill that is evident in even Brown’s first staged show, “Songs for a New World,” from 1995 and given a new production that opened Sunday at the Paper Mill Playhouse here. Somewhere between theater and song cycle, it is a collection of piano-driven pathos generators with plenty of wistful character beats, loosely structured around watershed moments in which “the things that you’re sure of slip from your hand.”Directed by Mark S. Hoebee, however, this straightforward revival keeps the show’s wide-eyed yearnings intact without taking the past quarter-century of change into account — its new world now seeming older. Each number stands alone, and you don’t have to look too closely to notice that the heaviest of them are shouldered by the production’s sole Black cast member, Roman Banks. One is titled “On the Deck of a Spanish Sailing Ship, 1492”; others are about a dead soldier, a basketball player surrounded by disadvantages, a man imprisoned.To be fair, the casting here follows the same racial lines as the original production’s, which featured Billy Porter in Banks’s role. But consider the subjects of songs sung by his white male co-star, Andrew Kober: leaving a fiancée, being in love, reuniting with a partner. It makes for a dated artistic vision that plays into tired stereotypes of Black pain in a show that does not otherwise explore race.A great performance can transcend the material, though, and in this production, these moments belong to Carolee Carmello. She lends her vocal deftness to the cabaret standard “Stars and the Moon,” and goes full “Cabaret” with the Kurt Weill sendup “Surabaya-Santa,” in which a scorned Mrs. Claus straddles a chair and bids her bearded lover goodbye. Her powerful, textured voice beckons listeners even as it resonates up to the rafters. And her first solo, the comedic “Just One Step,” smartly mines humor from preposterously elongated vibrato.Mia Pinero and Banks are young and talented, but not assuredly able to drive home the powerful numbers they are given, though Pinero was at her finest in “Christmas Lullaby”; Banks, in “King of the World.” Kober, with his hands permanently in his pockets and a shrug fixed on his shoulders, seems to actively resist any real engagement with the audience. (It doesn’t help that he’s tasked with the least interesting songs.)Kelly James Tighe’s set design rightly places the pianist front and center, behind which the orchestra plays — wonderfully, conducted by Sinai Tabak — on a platform with steps at either side of the stage for unfussy, simple entrances and exits by the cast. The choreography, by Kenny Ingram, is agonizingly literal: predictable in the way musicals are often mocked with bouncy, handy moves. At one point, Carmello dances to “The Steam Train” with a locomotive “choo-choo.”You can almost forgive the indignity of that, though, whenever she begins to sing. If this “Songs for a New World” production feels wobbly in its search for brighter lands, she is the X that marks the spot.Songs for a New WorldThrough Nov. 7 at Paper Mill Playhouse in Milburn, N.J.; papermill.org. Running time: 1 hour 45 minutes. More

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      No Mask Required: The Joys and Fears of Seeing U.K. Theater Now

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      With mask wearing and proof of vaccination not legally required, it’s up to venues and audience members to make their own decisions about coronavirus safety.LONDON — Before the Covid-19 pandemic hit, Nicolette Jones used to go to the theater with her daughter about 50 times a year.Now, she’s not going at all. “Theater is my relaxation, my escape,” said Jones, 61. “The thought of sitting next to somebody who is unmasked for two hours, laughing and whatever, that is going to remove all that,” she added.Theaters here have now been allowed to open without restrictions for three months, and while many audience members have been delighted to return to live performances, inconsistent rules are troubling some fans.Unlike on Broadway, theatergoers in England are not required to wear masks in their seats, or be fully vaccinated. Instead, it’s up to each venue to decide what they require. Most West End venues are asking for proof of vaccination or a negative test result at the door, but some smaller venues don’t. Spectators are also encouraged to wear masks, but many choose not to, even as the number of virus cases in Britain steadily grows.How are theater fans feeling about this new normal? Has the pandemic changed what they’re seeing, and how they’re seeing it?We spoke to seven other theater enthusiasts to find out. These are edited extracts from those conversations.Robbie Curran, 29Actor and writerNick Arthur DanielI’ve mainly been going to fringe theater. The best moment so far was probably in “The N.W. Trilogy” at The Kiln, these three plays about immigrants in northwest London.At the end, the whole cast came together with banners, and marched. And it had such a high energy and pulse, I turned to my partner and she went, “Wow, we’ve missed this!” It’s those moments of real connection and catharsis that we were lacking in lockdown.At the small venues no one’s asked to check vaccine status or any of that. They’re probably just trying to get their audiences back so going on trust that everyone is doing their best.With masks, it’s different every night. Sometimes one person is wearing a mask, sometimes half the audience is; sometimes no masks, sometimes all masks.Fazilet Hadi, 64Works for a disability organizationAlbert ClackI hate to admit this — some of my friends would be horrified — but I haven’t been wearing a mask. I don’t know why. I suppose because I’m blind, I can’t see who’s wearing them and who’s not, so in my little world no one is! No one’s said anything to me.I’m not fussed about Covid, really. We’ve all got different levels of risk.I’ve been to “Twelfth Night” at The Globe, with audio description, and that felt so good. There wasn’t an interval and I did think, “Oh, my goodness, two hours 40 minutes without a break!” But it flew by.I’ve got three more plays booked. What Covid’s done to me is just clarify what I love doing, accentuating the pleasure. That might wear off, but hasn’t yet.Nikki Reilly, 46, and Izzy Reilly, 15Maths and computing teacher; studentIzzy ReillyNikki: Going to the theater’s always been expensive, but we found this app where you can buy rush tickets on the day, and because many people aren’t ready to go back yet, and there isn’t the influx of tourists you normally get in London. We saw “Heathers” one day, and we saw “Come From Away” in the stalls for just £25 ($34). Normally it’d be £150!Izzy: It feels like I’ve got so much more agency to see things I want to. I can go, “Can we see this?” and normally we can.Nikki: We’ve been to the West End six times. As soon as it gets busy again, we’ll probably go back to local theaters. Izzy’s at school and I’m a teacher, so maybe we’re more used to being around big groups of people: We haven’t been concerned about Covid. And everyone’s been wearing masks. What bothers me more has been traveling to the theaters: People not wearing masks on the train, the tube, particularly if they’re ill and coughing. That does concern me.Jane Duffus, 43AuthorJon CraigPre-Covid, I used to go to the theater all the time. But tomorrow is my first trip. I’m going to see “Wuthering Heights” at the Bristol Old Vic, and I specifically booked it as it’s socially distanced. We’re lucky where I live, a few theaters are still doing distanced performances.I just haven’t been ready until now. I went to an event in August and it really freaked me out: About 400 people, no distancing and I was one of only about six people wearing a mask. A few days later, a friend texted me to say they had Covid. I didn’t feel remotely relaxed. Every time I heard a cough … It was a lot.I picked “Wuthering Heights” as I love Wise Children, the company doing it. If you’re going to put yourself through anxiety, it should be something you know you’ll enjoy.Bryony Rose20, Theater YouTuberTracy J.I used to see some shows again and again: “Six” and “& Juliet.” But when theater wasn’t there, it sparked a passion for shows I hadn’t seen, so I’ve tried to really branch out. It’s still mainly musicals, but I love them.“Frozen” was absolutely incredible, especially seeing the younger generation in the audience and their eyes lighting up, like mine did at that age. At the end of “Let It Go,” I almost cried. The diversity in the ensemble was really inspiring too.In lockdown, when I couldn’t express my passion for theater, it was really difficult. I hadn’t realized how much I relied on that to express who I was.When theaters reopened, I got so many comments from people on my channel saying “I want to go to a show, but I’m worried it’s not safe.” So I started using my blogs to show there were things in place to keep people safe, and how people can do things themselves like a test at home. Now I’m getting all these comments saying, “Because of you, I feel safe enough to go.”Stephanie Kempson, 34DirectorPaul BlakemoreI’m a theater director so I need to see work, but I’ve been getting nervous as people stopped wearing masks this autumn.I’ve been trying to pull favors so I can get into rehearsals to see things, and I’m trying to watch live streams, but often only one performance in a run is being live streamed now.So socially distanced performances are the way to go for me. I have ME/CFS so I’m aware of what long Covid could be like.People are so excited to be back and I can forgive them for that, but it does seem there’s a lack of awareness and common-mindedness. More

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      Review: The Melancholy of Misspent Lives in ‘Autumn Royal’

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      The Irish Repertory Theater returns to live performances with a domestic tragicomedy by Kevin Barry.Above the narrow little room where May and Timothy sit plotting, their father lies abed, his wits gone haywire. Sometimes, from below, they hear him speak the first and only line of the poem he’s been composing for months: “A duck walk across a puddle.”In just those six words, the bird exhibits more agency than May and Tim have shown for years, maybe ever. Well into adulthood, they remain trapped in the same house in Cork, Ireland, where they’ve spent their whole lives — caring for their father and passing cruelly amusing judgment on the neighbors.“The Coynes all had the big, beefy faces,” May says, gazing out the window as one of them walks by. Then comes the withering, tossed-off insult: “Whatever they did wrong in a past life.”Even so, an ingrained dread of what the neighbors might think has kept her and Tim in line, ministering to the man upstairs — May taking on the dirty work, like sponge baths, that Tim claims to be too delicate for.But in Kevin Barry’s domestic tragicomedy, “Autumn Royal,” the first live performance at the Irish Repertory Theater since the start of the pandemic, the time for rebellion has come. Because as unwell as their father might seem, his lab results point to years, maybe decades, more of life.“What are we goin’ to do, May?” asks Tim, who nurses a detailed fantasy of escaping to Australia, where he will surf daily, find a little blond wife and have two children with her named Jason and Mary-Lou.If you’re familiar with Barry’s fiction, like his grim and gorgeous novel “Night Boat to Tangier,” you know that the moral brokenness of his often wildly hilarious characters can take extravagantly violent turns. May (a very funny Maeve Higgins) and Tim (John Keating, ditto) certainly are tempted, in the interest of securing their own freedom.Once they summon their courage, though, the gravest infraction they can commit starts with leafing through the yellow pages, in search of a nursing home. The place they choose is the Autumn Royal — where, Tim says, his guilt slipping out, “There’s only two to a cell.” But ridding themselves of their father isn’t as easy as shipping him off.Ciaran O’Reilly’s production, on Charlie Corcoran’s suitably claustrophobic set, is wonderfully agile with Barry’s comedy but never finds its footing with the intimations of trauma threaded through the script. A revelation near the end doesn’t land with the emotional heft it needs, and neither does the play.In the more surreal moments of painful memory, busy projections (by Dan Scully) crowd the walls, demanding attention, when a less embellished design approach — a change of lighting, say — would have kept the focus on Barry’s language, which is already heavy with atmosphere. Similarly, the sound design (by Ryan Rumery and Hidenori Nakajo) muddies when it means to clarify.This production succeeds mainly on the level of a caper, albeit one spiked with melancholy about squandered lives. Reminiscing about how beautiful their long-split parents once were, Tim laments to his sister, “They could have had magnificent children.”“We’re never going to get past ourselves here, Tim,” May says.Weighed down by duty, stalled by inertia, maybe she’s right.Autumn RoyalThrough Nov. 21 at the Irish Repertory Theater, Manhattan; irishrep.org. Running time: 1 hour 10 minutes. More

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      Review: In the Disturbing ‘Dana H.,’ Whose Voice Is It Anyway?

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      Deirdre O’Connell brilliantly lip-syncs the testimony of a woman abducted by a white supremacist in a play by Lucas Hnath.Dana Higginbotham had recently lost her job as a chaplain in the psychiatric unit of a Florida hospital when, in 1997, she was abducted by one of her former patients, a methed-up ex-con named Jim.For the next five months she lived in captivity, in a blur of hide-outs and motel rooms, as Jim, called Cowboy by his associates in a white supremacist crime syndicate, dragged her along on his “jobs,” sometimes by the hair.Though she was “never not covered with bruises,” and often signaled her distress nonverbally, almost no one tried to help her; eventually, in a kind of transference or Stockholm syndrome, or what she calls adaptation to maladaptation, she came to see Jim as her “protector” because certainly “the cops weren’t.” Indeed, the police had little power, and thus little interest in, the world beneath our own she had somehow fallen into, a world where “everything that was suppose to be right was not.”I’m quoting Higginbotham verbatim, dropped d and all, because that’s the way her words come to us in “Dana H.,” the profoundly disturbing new play by Lucas Hnath that opened on Sunday at the Lyceum Theater on Broadway. It’s her voice, recorded over a period of several days in 2015, we hear on tape, telling the story of those five months in Jim’s thrall — and the two-and-a-half years hiding from him on a construction gang afterward.Yet this is not simply verbatim theater of the kind the Civilians, the “investigative” company that commissioned and developed “Dana H.,” has pioneered in works like “Gone Missing” and “This Beautiful City.” Nor is it like “Is This a Room,” the verbatim drama by Tina Satter that opened on the same stage last week and will now alternate performances with “Dana H.,” each playing four performances a week.In Hnath’s play, the transcript is not dramatized as it is in those others, with actors speaking and performing each role. Rather, just one actor, Deirdre O’Connell, embodying Higginbotham, lip-syncs the entire 75-minute text, brilliantly pulling off one of the strangest and most difficult challenges ever asked of an actor.Call it Thriller Karaoke, a form in which the story is almost as dangerous as the mode of storytelling. You worry that O’Connell will fall out of sync with the recording, which never stops once the play begins. Gradually, though, as her inerrancy becomes clear, you let go of that concern and switch to related ones: Why tell the story this way in the first place? What do you get from the astonishing feat, besides astonishment, that you wouldn’t get if the same material had been acted out as it might be in a typically effective television procedural?One thing you get, or rather don’t, is the violent imagery that in a literal representation can short circuit other values. Higginbotham’s tale is so brutal that, were it visualized, you would spend the entire play worrying about her survival.Instead, the director Les Waters, in his nerves-of-steel staging, offers just one spot of blood to stand for the rest. The story is still plenty savage, but by placing O’Connell, a beloved New York theater veteran, in a comfortable-looking club chair, in the middle of a generic motel room, he in some way abstracts and domesticates it. (The diorama-style set design is by Andrew Boyce, the shadowy-then-glary lighting by Paul Toben.) You are implicitly asked to focus not on the terror of her experience but on the terror of her survival.O’Connell lip-syncs most of the show nonstop.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAnd your own: While mimicking Higginbotham’s mental dissociation, the uncanniness of the lip-sync destabilizes most other notions of normalcy in the world as well. It suggests an underlife, parallel to the comfortable, familiar one, that threatens at any moment to erupt through the rather thin barrier of routine, just as Higginbotham’s voice seems to erupt through O’Connell’s body in the process of possessing it.The question of voice is obviously central to Hnath’s concern here, only in part because Higginbotham — it’s no spoiler to say — is his mother. At the time of the abduction, he was a thousand miles away, a freshman at New York University, apparently knowing nothing of what was going on in Florida. She did not want him to know: Jim held her son’s safety over her head, she says, to enforce compliance. “Everything I ever did was all based on what was for Lucas, you know?”In the silence that follows that line, you can almost hear the eternal maternal follow-up plaint: “But what has he done for me?”To say he has honored her story, though that’s true, is the skimpiest possible way to look at the achievement of “Dana H.” When the play ran Off Broadway at the Vineyard Theater in 2020, after productions in Los Angeles and Chicago, I was electrified by the way O’Connell turned herself into a kind of musical instrument, letting the recording of Higginbotham “play” her. With her own voice shut off, she emphasized the other tools at her disposal, so that even the smallest shifts of posture and expression became immensely expressive.Those effects have grown more complex in the Broadway production, shifting its weight in the process. More often now, O’Connell seems to work against the apparent veracity of the text: miming Higginbotham’s odd laughter a little more vividly, underlining moments in which she doubts her memory. Though I never previously questioned any aspect of the story, I now found myself wondering whether a woman so traumatized could be a reliable narrator and whether a play is “true” just because its words are.Hnath is at pains to signal that it is, in part by exposing his technique at every turn. We see O’Connell put on her earpieces at the beginning of the play and take them off at the end. Beeps indicate spots where the transcript has been edited. (The sound design and skin-crawly music are by Mikhail Fiksel.) The interview was conducted by Steve Cosson, the artistic director of the Civilians, rather than by Hnath because, as he explained to The Times, he wanted his mother to tell the story “to someone who knew nothing.” That way there would be no shortcuts that might introduce doubt.And yet it is the introduction of doubt, despite all those dams put in place to block it, that I find so wonderfully complicating now. Tiny strange moments Hnath chose to leave in the transcript — references to Higginbotham’s having “played around in” Satanism when she was young, or to her fantasy that converting Jim “would be a great addition” to her “ministry” — make you wonder about her reliability, and what even stranger material was cut.Through such holes in the storytelling, the play’s richest emotions seep. Near the end, when Higginbotham is contacted by Jim’s father, apologizing for what his son did to her, Cosson, on tape, asks if that “helped in any way.” She says it did: “It kinda felt almost like a family. The way a family should have reacted — if I had one.”You may well gasp louder than at the reveal of a corpse.That’s when I realized that “Dana H.” is not just the story of a woman brutalized by a psychopath; it is also the story of a mother abandoned by a son. What else would a playwright do to make reparations but write a play about just that, in the process returning to her what the world had stolen: her voice.Dana H.Through Jan. 16 at the Lyceum Theater, Manhattan; thelyceumplays.com. Running time: 1 hour 15 minutes. More