Theater

Sifting evidence and debating whodunit with strangers turns out to be an especially successful way for theater to be enjoyed from a laptop. More

With broad winks to Agatha Christie and the limitations of remote theater, a serialized song-and-dance mystery goes on. Well, not so much dance. More

For the first time in 87 years, the show at Radio City Music Hall won’t go on, the owner of the venue said Tuesday.“We regret that the 2020 production of the ‘Christmas Spectacular Starring the Radio City Rockettes’” has been canceled, Madison Square Garden Entertainment said in a statement, citing “uncertainty associated with the Covid-19 pandemic.”According to the Rockettes’ website, more than 75 million people have seen the dancers perform since the Christmas show began in 1933. During a typical busy season, each of the 80 Rockettes may perform up to four shows a day, with each one kicking up to 650 times. As the news broke, several of the dancers posted their own statements on Instagram.“Christmas has officially been cancelled,” wrote Samantha Berger, who has been performing with the Rockettes for 15 seasons. “Until Next year,” she added with two broken-heart emojis. “Please Wear a Mask.”A spokeswoman for MSG Entertainment, which also manages the show, confirmed that the Madison Square Garden Company plans to lay off 350 people — about one-third of the company’s corporate work force, The New York Post reported.“While we believe this is a necessary step to protect the long-term future of our businesses, we continue to actively pursue solutions that will allow us to safely reopen our doors,” MSG Entertainment and MSG Sports said in a statement, “so we’re able to bring as many employees back as quickly as we can, once a return date for live events is established.”The Rockettes are now selling tickets for November 2021, and many of the performers are holding out hope.“We were all preparing for this, but the confirmation of a cancelled season confirms the heartbreak,” Danni Heverin wrote on Instagram. “Please, I beg of you, think of others and do the right thing. Wear a mask. Socially distance.”“We are in this together,” she wrote. “Looking forward to the next time we can celebrate Christmas time again in NYC.” More

Barrington Stage Company was all set to become a pandemic pioneer: the first theater in the United States to put on an indoor show featuring an Actors’ Equity performer since the coronavirus outbreak shuttered stages nationwide.But the organization, located in Pittsfield, Mass., has run into an unexpected roadblock: the state of Massachusetts, which has allowed museums to reopen and indoor dining to resume, is not permitting indoor theater.So Barrington’s artistic director, Julianne Boyd, has made the difficult decision to move her production of “Harry Clarke,” a one-man show about an ingratiating con man, outdoors.Boyd had already removed many of the seats in her main theater, reconfigured the air conditioning system, redesigned the bathrooms, and reconceived the way patrons enter and exit the building. But now she’s shifting gears and, with Equity’s permission, planning to stage the play in a tent outdoors.“The show must go on,” she said. “This isn’t the end of the world. We’re disappointed, but we’re happy we took the in-depth measures we did, and as soon as the governor takes the next step, we’re ready to go back.”“Harry Clarke,” by David Cale, was staged in New York in 2017 and 2018, starring Billy Crudup. The Barrington Stage production, which is scheduled to run from Aug. 5 to Aug. 16, is to star Mark H. Dold.The decision does not affect a production of “Godspell,” put on by the neighboring Berkshire Theater Company, which was also approved by Equity. That production, which is to run from Aug. 6 to Sept. 4, was always planned to be staged outdoors. More

“You OK?”“I mean, what even is OK anymore.”In Source Material’s “In These Uncertain Times,” two characters, Annelise and James, type messages on Zoom, and the exchange feels familiar; the pandemic has changed even small talk so that questions like “How are you?” and “You OK?” are suddenly loaded. And even a positive answer comes with qualifiers.The production, devised by Source Material for Zoom and directed by Samantha Shay, takes a uniquely postmodern approach to talking about grief and isolation in quarantine. And while the play eloquently uses disparate styles of storytelling to serve moving moments, it too often feels conceptually incomplete.Six actors (James Cowan, Miles Hartfelder, Annelise Lawson, Stephanie Regina, Raven Scott and Grace Tiso) meet for a Zoom hangout, alternatively chatting about what the loss of theater means to them, getting hammered and telling corny dad jokes. Trapped in their homes, they’re despondent to the point of self-destructive. They question their identities, thrash and drink hard liquor until one of them appears back at the screen with blood dripping down his face. In each scene there’s tension, an imminent threat of injury.With our days of seemingly endless screen time, and with theater now coming to us via laptops and tablets, productions have increasingly had to consider the question of verisimilitude. Some playwrights have written toward the pandemic, creating content that mines the present moment. And then there’s the form. Should the play’s format and structure try to re-create the models used in live theater, before lockdown — or should it completely break the mold?Shay opts for the latter. It’s a brave choice, and the right one: The show never forgets that it was born in a time when art can’t be produced or received in the same way. In fact, it takes a meta approach; in the first scene, one actor instructs another to “do the speech,” and he delivers the preshow announcement. The performers aren’t presented as fictional characters but as simply the actors themselves. So where in the production does the play end and the real world begin?There’s an underlying question about how the theater industry’s been upended by the pandemic, but the second half of the play loses the thread, which isn’t as compelling as the play’s more general musings on loss, love and grief.“Uncertain Times” takes a disjointed, almost manic, approach; it’s plotless, more intuitive in its choices, which include stretches of heightened dialogue and a rhapsodic monologue delivered with a video showing the sunset and the sea.Between scenes, we see a phone screen, scrolling through an Instagram feed littered with real posts about the state of the world — memes and videos, some funny, some sad, from celebrities and the everyday masses. One section, an audio-only bit about the relationship of grief to love, positing that the two are siblings, even symbiotic, is exquisite, especially when followed by the private Zoom chat between Annelise and James. “Do you think love will be able to exist in the new world?” James asks, and it’s the question that cracks the play open.Or at least it would have. “Uncertain Times” reads like a lyrical essay, poetic, emotive and fluid in its temperament and tone, but it’s hesitant to give itself the space it needs to expand on its most penetrating moments.In the frenzied scenes showing the characters spiraling out in different ways — one compulsively snacks, munching on Kettle Chips and Sour Patch Kids; one has a mental breakdown; more than one gets dangerously, stupidly drunk — the overall sense of these people’s disconnection is clear, but it’s used most effectively when juxtaposed with scenes that are more individual in their focus and restrained and introspective in their mood. The private chat about love, one character’s reflective soliloquy about suffering and resilience — these pieces provide necessary texture and specificity while holding true to the flexible spirit of the production.Because “Uncertain Times” resists narrative and character development, it risks using some of its performers as set pieces — unnecessary but as a way to fill out the screen. It also straddles the line between wonderfully theatrical romantic sequences and flowery Hallmark Channel sentimentality. The writing sports a dose of both, but more often than not the music charges in to overwhelm scenes that need only a subtle touch.From beginning to end, the play is shot through with a prescient sense of uncertainty. Its characters are a mess, insecure and floundering, and the production’s form itself is accordingly incohesive. I can see an extended version of this play that keeps the poetry and the variety and digs deeper into its characters’ discrete responses to this sense of disconnection and grief. After all, things may be uncertain but at least our theater shouldn’t have to be.In These Uncertain TimesAug. 1, 7 p.m. EST; Aug. 2, 2 p.m. EST; sourcematerialcollective.com. More

There is not much action, barely even a plot, in “The Persians.” People just mill about, talking (admittedly rather intensely) about events (admittedly of the tragic kind) that happened far away.Yet this National Theater of Greece production unleashes gale-force sound and fury. At its peak, the show hits like a blow to the solar plexus, taking your breath away — the impact is only slightly dulled by watching online.First produced in 472 B.C., Aeschylus’s “The Persians” is considered the oldest surviving Greek play. This Dimitris Lignadis staging was broadcast live on Saturday from the ancient amphitheater of Epidaurus; in the spirit of the theater, no recording exists online. The venue was originally conceived as part of the city’s asclepeion (a healing center) because the Greeks considered the balance between body and soul essential to good health. Let’s all wistfully ponder that philosophy.The show deals with the aftermath of Salamis, a naval battle in which the outnumbered Greeks routed the mighty Persian army 2,500 years ago. At a time when our horizons are closing in, it is downright vertigo-inducing to virtually join a live audience in watching (subtitled) live actors all the way in Greece as they perform a millenniums-old play.Aeschylus himself had fought at Salamis, but his play has a twist: This veteran of the winning side set his story among the defeated, casting a fairly sympathetic eye on his recent enemies’ distress.A chorus of Persian men, wearing long, tan-colored skirts and white button-down shirts, opens the proceedings. They are in their capital city anxiously waiting for news of their king, Xerxes, who is off duking it out with Athens.Enter Xerxes’s widowed mother, Queen Atossa (Lydia Koniordou), in a rather large black gown that appears to wear her, rather than the reverse; she is a human in an exoskeleton of fabric, both vulnerable and formidable. Koniordou, who is among Greece’s greatest stage actresses, knows the role inside out — she directed and starred in an earlier National Theater of Greece production of “The Persians” that played New York City Center in 2006 — and she anchors the proceedings without seemingly doing much at all. For the most part, she stands in the middle of the circular stage, effortlessly projecting smoldering fury and agonizing sorrow as the scope of the disaster that befell the home troops is revealed.The apprehension everybody was feeling is confirmed, in harrowing details, by a messenger (Argyris Pandazaras) returning from the front. In an absolutely incredible scene, he recounts the battle, whipping himself into a frenzy as the chorus members dance around him and Giorgos Poulios’s drone-like score swells to what must have been a deafening level.Later they are joined by Atossa’s dead husband (Nikos Karathanos), summoned from the underworld, and Xerxes (Argyris Xafis), who has somehow escaped alive from the wreckage. Pieces of string on his tunic mark blood (Eva Nathena’s exquisite costumes always contribute to the storytelling). The characters lament the lost lives and devastation together, in an act of communal mourning.Quite a bit of the classical theater we see in the United States attempts to make it more accessible in one way or another. Often this is done with relatively naturalistic line readings, in an effort to make the text less foreign, easier to digest. But Lignadis and his troupe fully embrace declamation, which may sound a little forced to modern ears but highlights the text’s rhythmic power. While technically they do not sing, for example, the four lead actors essentially deliver arias, achieving an incantatory power that feels otherworldly.We never forget, though, that the play is rooted in emotions that are all too human. More

A Manual Cinema show can often feel like two performances at once.Look up during any of its productions, and you’ll find a screen where a polished projection of the story unfolds: figures dancing across the frame in silhouette, usually in the absence of any words, spinning a clear narrative into view.But down below is where the real action happens. The ensemble — which usually includes the founders and artistic directors of the Chicago-based cinema, Drew Dir, Sarah Fornace, Ben Kauffman, Julia Miller and Kyle Vegter — are pulling the strings (often literally) in full view of the audience. There’s an organized chaos of actors, musicians, several overhead projectors, cameras, maybe a green screen and roughly several hundred puppets, all on display in real time.“It’s kind of like watching an animated film,” Kauffman said, “but all of the elements are performed live.”After a decade of molding and expanding their art form — a puppetry-infused hybrid of film and theater — the members of Manual Cinema are looking back with a virtual 10th anniversary retrospective (or a “retrospectacular,” as the group is calling it). We explored the four shows Manual Cinema is featuring on its website, in chronological order, starting Monday and running through Aug. 23, and how the artistry used to create each has evolved. (Dates are subject to change.)“Lula Del Ray” (2012)VideoCreditThe retrospective’s first show, which premiered in 2012 and was filmed in North Branch, N.J., in 2016, tells an inventive, dreamlike coming-of-age story set in the 1950s American Southwest.As one of Manual Cinema’s earliest productions, “Lula Del Ray” helped to establish some of the ensemble’s signature techniques: hundreds of shadow puppets on display through multiple projectors, actors performing in silhouette onscreen, and an ethereal (in this case, Roy Orbison-inspired) live score.The company has since added other technical elements to its productions: In “The End of TV,” for example, actors come in front of the camera, and “No Blue Memories” has a more verbose script. But even in those earlier days, with fewer bells and whistles to juggle, the performers wore multiple hats. Miller, who conceived “Lula Del Ray” and designed the masks for actors in silhouette, performed as both a puppeteer and Lula’s mother in the original cast.“It attracts a very specific type of performer who really enjoys multitasking,” Miller said. “Once the show starts, you just go. There’s no offstage time. You’re a technician; you’re a camera operator; you’re a cinematographer; you might even be doing lighting; and then you’re also acting and doing puppetry as well. It’s a lot of patting your head and rubbing your stomach.”“The End of TV” (2017)VideoCreditBetween the flashy commercials and QVC-like broadcasts that appear on a screen above the stage is a deeper story, written by Vegter and Kauffman, that chronicles the parallel lives of two former autoworkers in a Midwestern town. “The End of TV” premiered in 2017 in New Haven, Conn., and was filmed at the Chopin Theatre in Chicago the next year.“We started working on the piece right before the 2016 election and finished it after,” Vegter said. “I think we were kind of searching for how we got here — how did the country get to this place of rampant consumerism, and a place where a reality TV star can be elected president?”The show, like all Manual Cinema productions, has gone through several iterations since its premiere. By nature of the medium — which is usually faceless, and almost always wordless — it often takes getting the story in front of an audience for the company to figure out what clicks and what points people may be missing.“To tell really nuanced, powerful stories that don’t involve language or characters speaking to each other is a really difficult task,” Vegter said.For “The End of TV,” Vegter said, the company collected audience surveys after the performance and adjusted the production according to feedback. Manual Cinema’s shows end with an invitation for audiences to join the ensemble onstage; it’s an opportunity for viewers to see the puppets up close and ask questions, and for the company to hear their thoughts and figure out what works.“No Blue Memories: The Life of Gwendolyn Brooks” (2017)VideoCreditManual Cinema is a company with deep Midwestern roots — a fitting group to explore the story of one of the region’s and Chicago’s most iconic writers, the poet laureate Gwendolyn Brooks. The work premiered in 2017, when it was commissioned by the Poetry Foundation, and was filmed that year at the Harold Washington Library Center in Chicago.The script, written by Eve L. Ewing and Nate Marshall, was a sharp departure from the company’s typically wordless material — but in a story that hinges on a writer and her words, Vegter said, that departure was essential.The shadow puppets for “No Blue Memories” and other Manual Cinema shows are crafted from card stock, with joints linked together through a thin piece of wire. In the beginning, puppets were hand cut. The group later started using a silhouette cutter that was similar to a printer. They now use both, depending on whether they want the puppets to appear more rough around the edges or cut with more computerized precision.“It’s really wild for us to see the puppets that we made in 2010 versus what we’re capable of now, because we just have so much more control over the style and the aesthetic and the detail,” Miller said.“Frankenstein” (2018)VideoCreditThe final and most recent show in the retrospective is Manual Cinema’s most complex to date: “Frankenstein,” which incorporates shadow puppets, three-dimensional tabletop puppets, live actors and robot percussionists.The show, which debuted in 2018 at the Court Theatre in Chicago, was also the company’s first work commissioned by a regional theater. The filmed version for the retrospective was shot in 2019 at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in Scotland.“Usually with us, it’s the five of us and whatever funding we can cobble together to make a show,” Vegter said. “So to have a whole theater staff and the organizational structure of a theater was incredible and I think allowed us to make a show that is just on a different scale than any of our other work in every way. It was kind of like the maximalist version of Manual Cinema.”With that more complicated performance came more puppeteers — five of them, squeezed together around the projectors, fighting a lack of elbow room to get more than 400 shadow puppets up and running in time.The close quarters demand an intricate level of choreography and communication, usually in silence, to keep everyone on track.“A big part of that ensemble work is just literal traffic coordinating,” Miller said. “You have to go on this side of the table, and the other person goes on the other side, and if you switch it up one night, you will run into someone. There’s a lot of meaningful eye contact and head nods.” More

She specialized in supporting roles, including an attention-getting recurring character in “The Big C.” More