Tag Archives: Constellation Theatre Company

Information Overload: Forum’s Love and Information & Constellation’s The Wild Party, reviewed.

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A surfeit of arts coverage in last week’s Washington City Paper means it took my reviews of Forum’s Caryl Churchill experiment Love and Information and Constellation’s Jazz Age musical The Wild Party ’til now to appear. They’re in the paper this week.

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Bad Times, Good Times: Studio’s Cloud 9 and Constellation’s Urinetown, reviewed.

Studio Theatre's "Cloud 9" (Teresa Wood)Constellation Theatre Company's "Urinetown."

For various critic-related, theater company-related, and publication-related reasons, my reviews of Studio Theatre’s production of Caryl Churchill’s anticolonial sex romp Cloud 9 and Constellation Theatre Company’s new production of the Y2K-era Greg Kotis-Mark Hollman musical Urinetown have taken a long time to see print. But they’re in this week’s Washington City Paper, and online, too.

A Horse of a Different Color: Between Riverside and Crazy and Equus, reviewed.

Frankie R. Faison, Emily K. Townley, and David Bishins in %22Between Riverside and Crazy%22 (Allie Dearie)

Ryan Tumulty and Ross Destiche in "Equus."

Among my other inspired headline ideas was the immortal “Race, Horse.” Washington City Paper editor-in-chief Steve Cavendish came up with the winning entry: “Crime Doesn’t Neigh.” Bravo, Steve. Herewith, my reviews of Studio’s Between Riverside and Crazy, the 2015 Pulitzer winner from Stephen Adly Guirgis, and Constellation’s new production of Peter Shaffer’s Equus.

 

Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps): Girlstar and Avenue Q, reviewed.

In this week’s Washington City Paper, I size up a pair of musicals: Signature Theatre’s Girlstar is a confused mess borne aloft by a strong cast, and Constellation Theatre’s revival of the hit Sesame Street parody Avenue Q is funnier and more soulful than The Muppets. (The dour 2015 version, not The Muppet Show.) More words, if not necessarily more insight, on these subjects here and here.

Feline Fatale: The Lieutenant of Inishmore, reviewed.

Megan Dominy and Thomas Keegan in Constellation Theatre Company's proudction of Martin McDonagh's "The Lieutenant of Inishmore."

I reviewed Constellation Theatre Company‘s new production of Martin McDonagh‘s bloody 2001 farce The Lieutenant of Inishmore in today’s Washington City Paper. The fine Washington Post story I cite (by David Segal, not long after he’d handed off his gig as the paper’s pop music critic to my pal Josh du Lac) about the blood work in the play’s U.S. premiere back in 2006 is here.

Notes on Champ: Fetch Clay, Make Man and ABSOLUTELY! {perhaps}, reviewed.

Roscoe Orman and Eddie Ray Jackson as Stehin Fetchit and Muhammad Ali in "Fetch Clay, Make Man."

Roscoe Orman and Eddie Ray Jackson as Stephin Fetchit and Muhammad Ali in Fetch Clay, Make Man. (Round House Theatre)

My review of Round House Theatre‘s strong production of Will Power‘s Fetch Clay, Make Man, a play about the unlikely friendship of Muhammad Ali and Stephin Fetchit, is in today’s Washington City Paper. I also review Constellation Theatre‘s update of a century-old Luigi Pirandello play, ABSOLUTELY! {perhaps}. Continue reading

An Athenian, a Broad: The Love of the Nightingale, reviewed.

Matthew Schleigh, Megan Dominy, and Rena Cherry Brown in The Love of the Nightingale. Photograph by Stan Barouh.

“It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World,” is how James Brown and Betty Jean Newsome said it in 1966. (And Brown denied Newsome’s contributions to the song in court decades later, as if to prove the title correct.)

“Woman Is the Nigger of the World,” is how John Lennon and Yoko Ono said it in 1972.

“Every man has a choice to make: Commitment, or new pussy?” is how Chris Rock said it in 1996.

And The Love of the Nightingale is how Sophocles said it two-and-a-half millennia earlier, give or take, which got filtered through Ovid’s brain four centuries later, and then British playwright Timberlake Wertenbaker’s just eight years ago. In her astute update of the sad story of Philomele and Procne, Wertenbaker dares to have one of her characters, an innocent, ask what a myth is.

“The oblique image of an unwanted truth, reverberating through time,” comes the answer.

And the unwanted truth reverberating, hard, through The Love of the Nightingale is this: Men. Are. Dogs.

Woof.

Continue reading