Edward Gero as Mark Rothko and Patrick Andrews as Ken in the 2011 Goodman Theatre production of Red. Directed by Robert Falls. Photo by Liz Lauren.

De Kooning. Pollock. Rothko. Giants of the Abstract Expressionist movement. Killers of Surrealism, only to be swept aside themselves by Pop Art. At least, that’s how the legend goes (even Rothko would disagree with the precise classifications). But is a revolutionary’s story compelling if it doesn’t end in a young, glorious death? In Red, playwright John Logan sets up his genius protagonist to play defense against the onslaught of age and change. His Mark Rothko is engaged in a constant struggle against accusations of hypocrisy and potential irrelevance, while his paintings stand silent, their internal monologues quietly stealing the scene.

A joint production between Chicago’s Goodman Theatre and Arena Stage, Red is an exploration of an important moment in the life of artist Mark Rothko (played by Ed Gero). He took on a commission in the late 1950’s to produce murals for the Four Seasons restaurant in the Seagram Building, itself a gorgeous modernist tower designed by Mies van der Rohe and Philip Johnson. We’re supposed to feel somewhat shocked that Rothko would paint for this much money, would consent to house his paintings in a consumerist palace (as if Michelangelo never did anything similar for the Medici, but conveniently forgetting our art history, let’s say it is shocking). Rothko claimed to want his murals to disquiet the diners. The commission was certainly one of the most lucrative of its day. Red encapsulates that struggle between art and consumerism (on the verge of Pop Art’s embrace of it) in the relationship between Rothko and his young assistant, and if it did nothing else, the battle between the two would still make for a fascinating and unnerving evening.

Edward Gero as Mark Rothko in the 2011 Goodman Theatre production of Red. Directed by Robert Falls. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Into Rothko’s ordered (perhaps obsessively so) studio enters his new assistant Ken (Patrick Andrews), an aspiring artist himself with a horrific past event that makes him especially vulnerable. He’s to help Rothko prepare the canvases for the Seagram murals, but of course he has an underlying motive. The two engage in an increasingly uneasy working relationship while Rothko struggles with the realization that his paintings will eventually hang in a room filled with people who will never truly look at them. For a man who believes his colors are performers, that his work lives and dies by companionship, this is a fate he cannot stomach.

From the first few moments, you know this is going to be a play about ideas – important ideas, to be sure, but not much action – and if there is a flaw in the beauty of the production, it’s simply that ponderous and elegiac tone. Part of this may be Rothko himself – Logan uses many direct quotes from the painter and his words do contain a philosophical weight. Ed Gero’s performance as Rothko is as wonderfully nuanced as you’d expect from this fine actor, especially when he unleashes the old lion’s fury and sorrow, but the character’s a bit on the portentous side, and that can make for difficult viewing in the beginning.

Director Robert Falls sets a deliberate pace, as if modeling the tone on Rothko’s “banker’s hours” – that may be a reaction to Rothko’s method itself, but I longed for more naturalism, and the moments that did hit that more improvisational note were clearly the most powerful. The rising intensity of Andrews and Gero’s interactions eventually breaks through the mere philosophy of art to something more visceral – the necessity of the artist to create something meaningful, or wither in the attempt. Logan’s words and Gero’s performance are at their most poignant when at the service of that desire, as when Rothko describes his visit to the restaurant, or his relationship to the color black in Matisse’s The Red Studio.

It’s all set in a soaring rendition of Rothko’s Bowery studio by designer Todd Rosenthal, with one of the best lighting designs I’ve seen so far this season – Keith Parham gives the canvases an incandescence that’s extraordinary, especially in the final scene, where one fairly pulsates, a haunting silent character itself. Just as Rothko intended.

You don’t need to know anything about Rothko to enjoy the play. In fact, it may encourage you to learn more. I still remember my first reaction to Rothko as a young girl standing in front of a painting at the MOMA – somehow I was angry, so angry, livid almost, turning my back on modern art for a long time afterwards. After seeing this play, I devoured Rothko research and planned a visit to the Rothko Room at the Phillips and the Seagram mural exhibit at the National Gallery of Art. I realized my childhood reaction was an emotional reaction to color and shape that unnerved me, and that was a reaction Rothko would have understood. If the best response to a play is to challenge you, to send you on another voyage of discovery, then Red has done its work.

The Goodman Theatre production of Red performs at Arena Stage’s Kreeger Theater through March 4. Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater is located at 1101 6th Street SW, Washington, DC 20024. Closest Metro stop: Waterfront (Green line). For more information call 202-488-3300.

Euan Morton as Launce, Oliver the dog as Crab and Adam Green as Speed in the Shakespeare Theatre Company’s production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, directed by PJ Paparelli. Photo by Scott Suchman.

Ah, love. The kind that makes you stalk your lover, lie to your best friend, steal someone else’s girl. We’re talking young, hormone-addled, angst-ridden love. Add in some fervent karaoke singing, late night fast food binges and way beyond last call drinking, and it’s love in Shakespeare Theatre Company’s The Two Gentlemen of Verona.

Rarely performed (STC’s artistic fellow Laura Henry notes in Asides that it’s only been staged twenty-four times in London and five times in New York City), Two Gentlemen is commonly thought of as difficult to produce. It’s an early play in the canon, containing many characters and plot devices that seem half-baked next to their later manifestations. There’s also the question of that pesky final scene – which moves from the threat of violence and rape to forgiveness all too quickly – often tinkered with to make it more palatable. It’s always been a prime candidate for conceptual settings and modernization.

Director PJ Paparelli goes for a pastiche of teen movie metaphor in the current production. It’s a risky choice to add in neon corporate logos and U2 cover songs. That kind of concept can, and often does, fall flat. But here, a kind of pure earnest beauty marries text and concept. Kick your cynicism to the curb, and remember that time when love meant losing everything, including even your self-respect, and yet you just didn’t care that it wasn’t cool.

Nick Dillenburg as Proteus and Andrew Veenstra as Valentine in the Shakespeare Theatre Company’s production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, directed by PJ Paparelli. Photo by Scott Suchman.

For best friends Valentine and Proteus (Andrew Veenstra and Nick Dillenburg), the raucous bromance of youth is about to be disrupted by love – Proteus for Julia (Miriam Silverman), Valentine for Sylvia (Natalie Mitchell), then Proteus for Sylvia and back again. Leaving behind the parking lots of suburbia for the glamorous clubs of the big city, they’ll find alliances challenged and changed by the heightened risk of falling in love and growing up. When the plot’s laid out this simply it does scan like a teenage romance movie, though the reverberations of greater works to come – a bit of Romeo in Valentine, a shade of Iago in Proteus – suggest more depth than you might initially think. But above all, Two Gentlemen is a comedy, and the boys’ servants provide a lot of it. Valentine’s skateboarding messenger Speed (Adam Green) and Proteus’ woeful courier Launce (Euan Morton, bravely playing off a scene-stealing dog) keep the mayhem in balance with brilliant comedic timing that proves Elizabethean humor can still get laughs.

Paparelli’s concept is ably aided by Walt Spangler’s glitzy design, all gleaming metal and thrusting catwalks, like a disco dystopia. Paul Spadone’s risky Elizabethean hybrid costumes add a touch of 1980’s music video kitsch. And a special nod to Fabian Obispo’s sound design for taking risks (how do we know Proteus is the one who’ll turn bad? He listens to Rage Against the Machine!) that caught the audience off guard.

Though at times the modernization rings painfully earnest (anguished arm cutting during a U2 cover borders on the excruciatingly earnest, though it does serve to alert the viewer we’re about to go somewhere much darker), its pay off at other times is rich. The vigor of the actors’ commitment to making the text immediate and vibrant makes this a powerfully funny and poignant production. Their conviction to bringing the forceful danger of fickle youth to life make for moments of truth you wouldn’t expect from a “lesser” Shakespeare play. It comes through with a punch to the gut when the comedy turns. It’s both hilarious and hopeful, just like those coming-of-age movies you made light of but secretly loved.

The Two Gentlemen of Verona performs at Shakespeare Theatre Company at the Lansburgh Theatre now through March 4. The Lansburgh is located at 450 7th Street NW, Washington, DC 20004. Closest Metro stop: Archives/Navy Memorial (Yellow/Green lines) and Gallery Place/Chinatown (Red/Yellow/Green lines). For more information call 202-637-7000.

Holly Twyford in Time Stands Still. Photo: Scott Suchman

Watching Time Stands Still is to witness a relationship cracking apart, as two people whose entire shared experience has consisted of an adrenaline rush that can’t be sustained, irrevocably come off the high. Its success then rests on strong performances rooted in naturalism, and luckily that’s a strength Studio Theatre has perfected. Otherwise, you might be asking yourself why you are watching yet another slice-of-life about relationship woes.

Time Stands Still begins in the aftermath of war zone trauma for Sarah, a photojournalist physically battered by an explosion, and James, a reporter psychically wounded. Sarah can’t wait for her body to heal so she can jump back in, photographing atrocity after atrocity despite the nagging moral conflict of non-engagement. James has had enough, and wants a normal life (albeit a “normal” live lived in a nice loft in Brooklyn deconstructing horror movies instead of real-life horrors). This framework might be enough for an exploration of what happens when you repeatedly put yourself in harm’s way for the sake of bringing people news they don’t want to see, but playwright Donald Margulies raises the stakes in pretty pedestrian ways. Relationship woes like infidelity, mid-life crisis and delayed parenting are highlighted. How different the play might be had the core plot revolved around Sarah’s battle to keep her shattered limbs intact, a very relevant and brutal struggle many who’ve been in war zones have faced.

Here, you’ll get a rather safe depiction of facial scars that will slowly fade, like the relationship questions we all face and ultimately survive through. No one loses an eye or a leg here in their quest for that beautiful photograph of a baby’s burns after a market bombing. Margulies and director Susan Fenichell are lucky to have four talented actors making the psychic wounds interesting to the audience.

L to R: Greg McFadden, Dan Illian, and Laura C. Harris in Time Stands Still. Photo: Scott Suchman

Holly Twyford is a master at delivering lines so naturally you’d think they were improvised, and here she gives Sarah an acidic etching – you can almost see her skin bristling with the indignity of being trapped back in her safe apartment while the wars go on without her lens. Greg McFadden subtly telegraphs that James has the relief of the lesser talented partner – back on safe ground, his yearning to a normal couple is really a desire to step into a more traditional, perhaps even dominant role, to Sarah’s brighter star. As their editor Richard and his cute trophy wife Mandy, Dan Illian and Laura C. Harris flesh out what could just have been the stock characters of a May-December romance – the jokes at Mandy’s expense point to the danger of Margulies’ dialogue, dancing at the edge of cliche. Illian and Harris embue them with an inner life.

The production design is gorgeous – a Brooklyn loft by set designer John McDermott and lit by Mary Louise Geiger – though the original composition by Eric Shimelonis seemed forced into a horror movie motif, and Sarah’s facial injuries a little too safe. The ensemble acting is the key here, a quartet expert at illuminating inner lives, as they explore the moral uncertainty of making art, making a living, out of the suffering of others. Does that art spur ordinary people to action against atrocity, and if not, is it worth doing? It’s just one question the play asks. There are others the actors ask, in the moments between words.

Time Stands Still performs in the Metheny Theatre at Studio Theatre now through February 12. Studio Theatre is located at 1501 14th Street NW, Washington, DC 20005. Closest Metro stop: Dupont Circle (Red line), McPherson Square (Orange/Blue lines), U Street/Cardozo (Green/Yellow lines). For more information call 202-332-3300.

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Another year, another round for the bar. Before launching into the drinks team’s reminisces of 2011, forgive me for doing something I rarely do as a writer – get a little personal. Just imagine you’re a bartender, and I’m pouring out my sob story at last call.

I almost gave up on drinks writing in 2011. After three years, frankly, I was feeling a bit jaded, and then personal set-backs began piling up, cruel jokes galore, making it difficult to stay focused. So I took some trips, detoxed on coconut water, did the “what’s it all about?” cliche. But after my return I was sitting at American Ice Company, as Patrick Owens happily sparked flames off an orange peel and Black Sabbath blared for Metal Night, and it hit me: what the hell am I thinking? I love drinks, I love DC and especially I love these people whose passion it is to create something so ephemeral and magical as a cocktail. Thoughts of sabbatical left my head, and I was back.

Through it all, the fantastic drinks team of We Love DC held it together – Brittany, Fedward, Moses – and now we’re lucky to add Addison to our imbibing crew. Let’s take a look back at our authors’ thoughts on drinks in 2011. And cheers to the bartenders who fill our glasses with craft, care, and a little magic.

DC Brau – The Public in a Tulip Glass – 08-28-11
courtesy of mosley.brian

Brittany:

This has been an amazing year for me – often nutty, sometimes inspiring, always amazing. I have had the opportunity to drink some amazing things, some frankly terrible things I never want to try again (see: the Easter Peep cocktail concoction I tried in April) and most of all have enjoyed some excellent company. It is a pleasure to say that it is hard to select a stand-out for bests of the year.

Having Matt Ficke at the Columbia Room make me a cocktail with Fernet Branca which I actually loved, in spite of being sure for years I could not stand the stuff, was pretty special. It was fascinating to meet Melanie da Trindade-Asher, the maker of Macchu Pisco, at Zengo in October and learn from one of the only young women ever to launch her own spirits brand and talk to her about her impressive success in spreading the gospel of Pisco in the US and Europe. I drank a lot of mescal this year, particularly after Oyamel’s tequila and mescal festival in March, and I loved just about every sip of it, particularly a mezcal Old Fashioned whipped up by Alexandra Bookless at The Passenger, set apart from the standard with grapefruit peel and mole bitters. While the aforementioned Peep drink may be both the silliest and ickiest cocktail I tried this year, the P.O.V. bar at the W Hotel is hard to beat for glamour and I have certainly been delighted by every opportunity I have had to dress up and take in that stunning view of the city – ideally with one of their Dark and Stormys in hand, rather than anything crayon-colored.

Some wonderful new things have come to town this year, including Jack Rose and Blackbyrd, DC Brau and I cannot wait for what 2012 will bring. Of course, at the end of the day, all the best drinks-related memories I have from this year will really be more about the people than what we were imbibing. Whether it was pickle backs at American Ice in August after a magical 9:30 Club show, drinking gin on an H Street stoop late into the early-summer night, or tasty beers at way too many leaving-DC parties, it has all been about loving the people with whom I shared this crazy year. I look forward to another.

Friday Night at The Passenger
courtesy of Kevin H.

Fedward:

My highlight was pretty much the month of May.  I got to go on the town with Dale DeGroff, I used Dan Searing’s new book to make a punch for the Social Chair’s birthday party, and I was part of an epic Tiki Tuesday at the Passenger (beer in a pineapple!).  Outside May, another highlight for me was the Rickey Month party at Jack Rose, and of course, the Repeal Day Ball was a huge success, as it has been every year.  In general this has been a great year for me being welcomed into the cocktail community.  Many of the city’s craft bartenders now recognize me, know my preferences, and steer me towards new, exciting drinks they know I’ll like.  Or even put one of my drinks on the menu themselves!  I’d say it’s been a good year.

Blackbyrd Warehouse
courtesy of Fedward Potz

Jenn:

Crisis of libation faith aside, I did have a lot of fun in 2011 covering drinks, especially in the spring when I was lucky enough to judge ARTINI at the Corcoran Gallery of Art. It was an incredible night filled with volumes of talent, bartenders mixing up art-inspired cocktails while marble Greek goddesses looked over the columned hall.

I learned about sake while saying goodbye to one of our best photographers, Max Cook, and returned to the Columbia Room for elegant whimsy, perfectly poured by Katie Nelson.  There was an afternoon with the charming Jonathan Fain previewing the menu changes at Saint Ex and Bar Pilar, as the golden sun set over glass after glass. An introduction by Fedward to the simply fantastic drinks of Jeff Faile at Fiola, which resulted in several return visits to indulge in bitter Italian digestifs and one of my favorite drinks of 2011 – the Coventry (Redemption rye, Averna, and Maraschino liqueur, oh my).

As my neighborhood exploded seemingly overnight with activity, bars crowding up more than ever before, I retreated to comfort spots like Dodge City, perched with a cider on the back patio as laughing strangers became accomplices. Or the quirky salon at Rogue24, where a burning bison grass garnish in one of Derek Brown’s fanciful cocktails brought back to memories of nights filled with Balinese incense.

Two moments really stand out in my year of drinks, moments of strong community. When I interviewed Andy Duffy on the challenges and rewards of owning your own bar, there was a chance he wasn’t going to be able to keep Duffy’s open much longer. Three months later, Duffy’s is finally able to keep regular hours. Much love for a simple neighborhood pub. A day at the Maryland Renaissance Festival on the crazy Boomerang Bus filled with industry friends from my favorite bar The Passenger, readers and writers who instantly bonded on a wild ride back in time gave me so much joy. A sunny day filled with mead and good company. That’s what it’s all about.

Mai Tai at Jack Rose’s Tiki bar
courtesy of Jenn Larsen

Moses:

For me, 2011 meant one thing in particular in DC: a beer crafting revival in the District, with local brewery start-ups Chocolate City, DC Brau, Port City, launching or making headway in their nascent months.  And, kudos to the many local establishments that are pouring fresh local beverages from their taps or refrigerators!  My favorite new watering hole is undeniably the cathedral to all things whisky: Jack Rose Dining Saloon — thank you for enriching our neighborhood!

My personal Drinks highlights for 2011 include covering the SAVOR craft beer and food festival in June, and the “Vintage Crystal: A Taste of Wine & Jazz” festival in September, but also includes a shout-out to Brittany’s picks for DC Beer Week 2011 which provided an insightful tour guide to liven up my evenings that week as a spectator!  Looking forward to an amazing 2012, including the International Wine and Food Festival in DC — the first time in memory it won’t be over Presidents Day weekend!

options
courtesy of Plantains & Kimchi

Addison:

Favorite Drinks articles: William Couch’s profile of ChurchKey’s Nahem Simon, and Fedward’s recap of Garrett Peck’s talk about his book on Prohibition in DC.

Best: The bourbon/whiskey resurgence. Ok, so it has never really gone out of style, but I love that booze is back in a big way. There’s not much better than a good bourbon with a couple of ice cubes. Between Bourbon, Jack Rose, Mad Rose Tavern, Irish Whiskey (I’m sure I’m leaving some out here), it is good to see more places offering expanded liquor lines.

Second best: Finally having a stable enough life to become a regular at two local places.

Worst: Bailey’s. Dear god, Bailey’s. Ordering a bourbon on the rocks, and getting a Jack and Coke instead.

We Love DC authors Don, Patrick, Rachel and I may have different backgrounds in criticism and performance, and varying preferences for theatrical style, but we share a goal – to bring you our thoughtful, honest opinions on the passionate, challenging craft of live theater. Though the actual season calendar isn’t over yet, it’s time for the annual wrap-up of 2011. Here’s at look back at some of the highlights (and a few lowlights) of our theatrical year.

Arena Stage – SW DC
courtesy of Tony DeFilippo

Don:

Looking back at last year’s roundup I see that I cheated slightly, so I’ll do it again. Even though Arena opened Oklahoma! in November of last year when I saw and reviewed it,  it returned for the summer when Rachel saw it. I’m going to call it last year so I can start off with a woo – it was a good and uncomplicated fun couple of hours. I’m on record as saying that you need to rise above the bar of just throwing any old thing up on stage that could just be on a small or silver screen, but bringing some live energy to a classic musical can do it and Oklahoma! did.

Other than that, there was a lot of fun on stage for me this year. Not that it was all stuff that knocked it out of the park - STC’s An Ideal Husband was unoffensive but of little note, NRTC’s Stop Kiss was well produced and acted but felt very dated, Landless gave us the fan-servicey but fun staging of Dr Horrible which my Whedon-obsession demanded I enjoy despite its Hulu-ability, and The Color Purple was that flavor of expensively staged but sloppily directed and choreographed that seems to be something we only tolerate from touring shows.

But the things that edged on greatness were real winners. STC’s Much Ado, despite its flirtation with cultural insensitivity, was lovely and well-acted and the Neo-Futurists’ return to Woolly was – and I say this with love, Mr Pho – even better than Patrick says it was. Cherry Red called it quits with a live-action version of The Aristocrats which I ended up finding so enjoyable I stuck around for the second show and watched it again. We’ll miss you, you filthy bastards.

Above that I saw some really fantastic stuff. STC’s Old Times was conversation fodder for days and Reggie Watts was wonderful performance art. Looking back at all my reviews I have to say I enjoyed The Heir Apparent best of all. The staging was lovely, the pacing frenetic and the acting fantastic. Floyd King is a local treasure who I would watch read the phone book… so long as you let him mug and do some physical comedy while he does it.

faces
courtesy of ekelly80

Jenn:

I reviewed thirty-eight plays in 2011, and I still don’t feel like I saw enough theater. Even the productions I didn’t care for, I’m grateful to have seen, for it’s easy in times of economic trouble to bypass the arts completely. DC audiences are loyal and tenacious, and I hope DC theaters can continue to be brave and produce challenging works.

2011 will be punctuated in my memory by two incredible performances – Derek Jacobi in King Lear (London’s Donmar Warehouse at BAM in New York – cheating here, I wish it had come to DC) and John Hurt in Krapp’s Last Tape (Dublin’s Gate Theatre at Shakespeare Theatre Company in DC). Jacobi brought me to tears and Hurt left me speechless. Those experiences are why I keep returning to the visceral power of live theater.

But it was also a year in DC of brilliant ensemble pieces, plays that danced with language and mythology. Like Patrick, I was blown away by Woolly Mammoth’s continued audacity, Oedipus El Rey in particular, and thrilled by Studio Theater’s Enda Walsh Festival bringing several works by one of my favorite playwrights to DC audiences, especially the poetic sucker-punch of Penelope. Studio was also responsible for my top DC theater pick of the year – Venus in Fur, absolute Jenn catnip in its combination of strongly committed actors and an imaginative script fearlessly building towards an ending of truly terrible beauty. Plus, what can I say, I could never resist a corset.

Folger Theatre brought pageantry to a new level with Cyrano and Othello, both productions showcasing two actors delivering rich rewards – Eric Hissom as Cyrano and Ian Merrill Peakes as Iago. The glittering glamor of Shakespeare Theatre Company’s The Merchant of Venice mined the dark heart of that difficult play, while Arena Stage’s Trouble in Mind tackled the ugly slights of racism with sad beauty and funny grace. Arena also hosted Steppenwolf’s outstanding Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, as shatteringly funny and terrifying as being pelted by martini glasses.

Finally, it wouldn’t be DC theater without a nod to the Capital Fringe Festival. Where else can you get tied up to another person and force fed goo from a syringe? Always fascinating, sometimes painful, the experiments of Fringe never bore, and give me hope for the continued vibrancy of live theater in the years to come.

Elizabethan Theatre
courtesy of Kevin H.

Patrick:

2011 was an excellent year for DC theater. Whether it was Pulitzer-winning plays, outrageous improv, or quirky new works put on by any of the smaller arts groups in town, the 2011 portfolio of shows was very strong. It’ll make for an interesting Helen Hayes Awards come April, and I can’t wait to go and do another Theatre Prom Diary.

There is a lot of promise in the DC theater scene; I’ve always placed it right up there below New York and perhaps Chicago. This past year we’ve seen a big push to unify the performing arts community with the creation of theatreWashington. I am excited to see what they can do in their first full year in 2012.

If I have to highlight one theater this year it has to be Woolly Mammoth. I’ve become a big fan of their productions and this past year they have hit home run after home run. From The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs to Clybourne Park to Bootycandy to Spoiler Alert: Everybody Dies- Woolly shows this year have entertained, provoked, and been nothing short of excellent.

Honorable mentions include Signature Theatre’s Art (looking back I think it’s an under-rated comedy) and Liberty Smith (finally something fun from Ford’s!)

But it’s not about my list- it’s about the fact that this city had a great year in theater. I hope they can keep the ball rolling as we enter 2012.

John Hurt in the Gate Theatre’s production of Krapp’s Last Tape. Photo by Tom Lawlor.

There are moments when economy, especially in words, must suffice.

(Shakes head. Backspace, backspace. Types.)

John Hurt. Krapp’s Last Tape by Samuel Beckett. Produced by Dublin’s Gate Theatre, at Shakespeare Theatre Company this weekend only. 55 minutes.

55 minutes of your life spent watching a master actor perform a master playwright’s reflection on the absurdity of life, memory and regret.

(Shakes head. Backspace, backspace, backspace. Types. Rubs chin. Sighs.)

Words leave me. Just the memory of Hurt’s haggard face under hard white light, the deep black of time surrounding him like a Francis Bacon painting.

Words leave me. To be haunted by a performance you cannot describe… feels liberating, to be defeated by time, by memory.

(Shakes head. Backspace. Stops. Stares at the floor. Mutters, “Idiot.” Types.)

Krapp’s Last Tape in limited engagement through December 4 at Shakespeare Theatre Company, located at 450 7th Street NW, Washington, DC 20004. Closest Metro stop: Gallery Place/Chinatown (Red/Yellow/Green lines), Archives/Navy Memorial (Yellow/Green lines). For more information call 202-547-1122.

Anthony Heald as Shag, Gregory Linington as Armin and Richard Elmore as Richard in the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s 2009 production of Equivocation, directed by Bill Rauch. Photo by Jenny Graham

A lawyer in love with a Shakespearean scholar might find the perfect date night with Equivocation. Or a politician whose best friend is a Jesuit. Bill Cain’s play is a thicket of ideas about theater, politics and morality. His language manages to be natural, almost casual, despite the rich quotations of Shakespearean text and the monumental characters debating the difficult question of how to remain true to your ideals, and the truth itself, in dangerous times.

Equivocation has received accolades since its 2009 world premiere by Oregon Shakespeare Festival, one of the country’s pre-eminent theater companies, and it’s now in performance by that company at Arena Stage. Cain wrote the play in the aftermath of September 11, 2001, when he started noticing a rise of disturbing doublespeak. He went back further in time to hold the mirror up, exploring what happens when a playwright is induced to produce propaganda about current events – in this case, being asked to dramatize the 1605 Gunpowder Plot to glorify King James I’s role. It’s fascinating how references to the Gunpowder Plot has resurfaced recently - V for Vendetta and Occupy Wall Street – as the mirror of history is turned back on itself again and again. Cain is interested in the propaganda of words, so he uses the ultimate wordweaver as the unlucky protagonist – Shakespeare himself.

The cast of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s 2009 production of Equivocation, directed by Bill Rauch. Photo by Jenny Graham.

Shag, as he’s known in the world of the play, is approached by Sir Robert Cecil to write a play about the Gunpowder Plot in which Protestant King James I is revealed as hero and savior against those dastardly Catholics scheming to blow up Parliament. Shag wants nothing to do with dramatizing current events – “you can’t legislate a soul into a country,” he rightly points out. The battle between the two men – magnificently played by Anthony Heald and Jonathan Haugen – is nothing short of titanic, Art vs. Politics, and yet the two actors make it achingly intimate. Heald’s hooded eyes contain worlds, “my brain is a graveyard,” he says, utterly believable as both poetic playwright and conflicted man. Haugen twists his body into Cecil’s physical torment, matching the mental torment inside as he watches the man he placed on the throne (John Tufts, in a devilish turn as James I) discard him like a wounded dog.

There’s a sad soul that winds its way through the play, as Shag is constantly confronted by the conscience he left behind in order to become a great playwright – his dour, neglected daughter Judith (Christine Albright), his lead actor and confidante Richard Burbage (Richard Elmore), the Catholicism of his parents embodied in the Jesuit priest Father Garnet (also Elmore, pitch perfect as both). Throughout his journey to discover the truth about the Gunpowder Plot, as draft after draft of the doomed play is acted out, we’re confronted by conscience as well – is it better to lie to save a man’s life or tell the truth to save your soul? Can equivocation, the act of answering the question under the question, really be a viable option, or is it just another act of cowardice? And most horrible of all, how would you behave under torture, could you really hold true to yourself when the consequence is having your guts pulled out while you still live?

Words, words, words… a lesser company could drown under the weight of Cain’s words, referencing so many plays of the canon I lost track – not to mention all the political machinations, religious treatises, feuds between family and friends, chilling scenes of torture – yet somehow, it works. Somehow, impossibly, it makes for a fascinating evening as opposed to a boring snooze. Credit is not only due to the playwright, who makes debating Jesuit philosophy on equivocation interesting, but the company itself, whose sense of ensemble is the strongest I’ve seen on stage in some time. Tackling multiple roles with ease, their vocality both crisp and warm, the ensemble’s talent and commitment is evidence of the vitality of repertory theater.

You truly believe this is a company of players dedicated to great theater, as they mirror the “cooperative venture” of The King’s Men.

Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s production of Equivocation, at Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater, through January 1, 2012. Arena Stage is located at 1101 Sixth Street SW, Washington, DC 20024. Closest Metro stop: Waterfront (Green line). For more information call 202-488-3300.

(Center) Janie Brookshire as Desdemona and Owiso Odera as Othello with the cast of Shakespeare's Othello, on stage at Folger Theatre through December 4, 2011. Photo credit: Carol Pratt.

There’s a moment in Folger Theatre’s Othello that sums up director Robert Richmond’s insightful approach. Courtesan Bianca, transformed in this production into a saucy bellydancer played by Zehra Fazal, stands in the wind, staring at a small fluttering handkerchief. At the same time, Othello himself (a commanding Owiso Odera) struggles with the depths of jealous rage that will eventually destroy him. An innocuous piece of fabric has become a thing of horror for them both, a symbol of betrayal that will bring about murder. Something so simple, now so powerful.

That handkerchief gets talked about a lot in Othello, Shakespeare’s tragedy about the loss of reputation and love through envy and greed, but this is the first time I’ve seen it so clearly as a totem of evil. Othello’s father gave it to his mother as a magical charm with the power to possess, after all. You wish Bianca would just let the damn thing go, flying off into the wind. But she doesn’t.

None of us ever do.

Washington audiences have a chance to contrast two great productions of Othello - Synetic’s revival of their 2010 wordless version, and now Folger’s performance of the classic text, already extended through December 4. With both, though the racial divide does play a strong part, it’s the corrosive poison of jealousy that’s explored most fully.

Owiso Odera as Othello and Ian Merrill Peakes as Iago in Shakespeare's Othello, on stage at Folger Theatre through December 4, 2011. Photo credit: Carol Pratt.

It’s all tied together by a gorgeously simple set design by Tony Cisek, perfectly evoking both Venice and Cyprus by working with the existing Elizabethean elements of the theater. Cisek turns a setting that sometimes is so challenging into a perfectly blended atmosphere – the theater’s dark wood accented by carved screens, an elaborate bedroom cornice that magically becomes the doge’s palace, a ship, an ornate ceiling. You can almost smell exotic perfume, incense – and lust for power.

You can also see that lust glinting in the eyes of Ian Merrill Peakes, just as you can see the fear of it in Janie Brookshire’s eyes as Desdemona, as his trap tightens around her. Merrill Peakes makes for a burly, charming Iago, a man quick to smile. Beware that smile, as it pulls the audience in and makes us complicit. When Desdemona gratefully kisses him, unknowing that he’s just ensured her death, his delight in it is palpable – and what makes it so chilling is that it makes absolutely no difference to his plan. This is an Iago who, upon encouraging Othello to strangle his wife, takes voyeuristic pleasure in the thought – and there’s no mistaking that his pleasure is sexual. It’s a breathtakingly sick moment.

The fascinating directorial touches coupled with strong choices by actors makes for an acutely heartbreaking Othello. It’s impossible not to be moved as moments between characters like Othello and his lieutenant Iago, or Iago and his wife Emilia (Karen Peakes), take on an almost private, psychologically internal feel. Watching Peakes as Emilia die after realizing the awful wreckage is caused by her husband, her worried eyes flashing into vengeance – I dare you not to cry. The psychological torment is ratcheted up by the ever present sound design of Matthew M. Nielson and Anthony Cochrane’s composition, from the twitchy aural undercurrents of Othello’s madness to echoing Venetian halls to sad, windy trees.

It’s part of the play’s heritage that somehow the namesake character can get overshadowed by his evil second. Othello’s always a difficult role, as the audience is seduced by Iago just as he is – here Odera’s Othello is a seasoned Templar knight, older than his young bride and therefore a little too susceptible to midlife insecurities. Though he plays to the fits and madness a bit too disjointedly, his playful roughhousing of Iago and his early indulgence of Desdemona alerts us that this Othello’s desire to be the best and to be liked while doing it will be the key to his downfall. It also shows us the root of Iago’s hatred of him, as he play-fights too hard, keeping Iago down like a bad dog. This Othello is the brilliant warrior more comfortable in battle, dispensing justice too quickly for the dangerous nuances of peacetime.

The text is front and center in Folger’s production, spoken with great clarity in an American English delivery devoid of flourishes – a style that’s become Folger’s signature.With psychologically intense performances and a seductive production design, this Othello will stay in my mind a long time.

Folger Theatre’s production of Othello performs an extended run through December 4 at the Folger Shakespeare Library, located at 201 East Capitol Street SE, Washington, DC 20003. Closest Metro stop: Capitol South (Blue/Orange lines). For more information call 202-544-7077.

Amy Quiggins and Michael John Casey in Constellation Theatre Company's production of Arms and the Man. Photo credit: Scott Suchman.

A play about the hypocrisy of war and romantic illusions set against the lunacy of class warfare seems like a perfect win for our Operation New Dawn, Occupy Wall Street days. No doubt G. Bernard Shaw, a playwright and critic of scathing intelligence, would’ve had something to say about these times of ours. As the International Shaw Society puts it, he was a "jesting juggler of ideas in a world of nothing but spin." Shaw (despite some wacky ideas about grammar) was devoted to the possibilities of changing society for the better, through the power of words. What would he have said about our own spin culture?

Constellation Theatre Company’s production of Arms and the Man plays up the funny frolic aspect of the satire, with bright costumes and a clever set, while missing the bitter pill hidden in the "chocolate-cream soldier" dream of its lead character. That isn’t to say it isn’t delightful, it just needs more Shavian snap.

But it does make for a charming night, in no small part due to the pairing of Amy Quiggins’ adorable Raina and Michael John Casey’s forthright Captain Bluntschli, characters whose unlikely love is guided with delicacy by director Allison Arkell Stockman.  

Brynn Tucker and Mark Krawczyk in Constellation Theatre Company's production of Arms and the Man. Photo credit: Scott Suchman.

Shaw uses the backdrop of the 14-day 1885 Serbo-Bulgarian War to shatter romantic illusions about what makes one truly brave. First performed in the late 1890’s, it’s a snapshot of the kind of feckless patriotism that would soon lead to the Great War. Each character is held back in some way from their true potential, adhering to class prejudices and emoting like characters in an operetta. But underneath, they all yearn for something more.

Into this artificial world bursts the plain-speaking Bluntschli, a Swiss mercenary forced to hide out in the romantic Raina’s bedroom. She thinks he’s a coward – after all, he carries chocolates instead of cartridges. He’s witnessed the cavalry charge of her bombastic fiance, Sergius Saranoff (Mark Krawczyk) – and knows a thing or two about real courage. The lesson will be both humorous and bittersweet.

Shaw’s scripts are notable for long speeches convincing the audience of the futility of high ideals, and it takes a constant urgency to carry them off without losing the audience. Pacing in this production needs some tightening, as spurts of strong energy slowly start to drag. Hopefully that will improve during the run, as the heightened theatricality of Constellation’s style is well-suited here, especially with spot-on performances like Krawczyk’s sneeringly pompous Sergius.

Contrasting that style with a more practical naturalism, as their roles should, are Casey and Daniel Flint. Flint gives a heartfelt turn as servant Nicola, whose sacrifice for love strips the pretense off the notion that only the upper class can be truly noble. Casey sketches the growing love of Bluntschli for the spirited Raina beautifully, and Quiggins makes her pretensions something more than just the illusions of a spoiled girl.

After all, she lives in a precious, frivolous world,  soon to be swept away by the calamity of a war that can’t be idealized. That danger is carried mostly by Brynn Tucker as the social-climbing maid Louka, as if all the underlying intensity of the coming storm is poured into one role. Even Shaw’s practical, self-made men wouldn’t be able to survive that wrath. I wonder how we’ll fare.

Constellation Theatre Company’s production of Arms and the Man runs through November 20 at Source Theatre, located at 1835 14th Street NW, Washington, DC 20009. Closest Metro stop: U Street/Cardozo/African American Civil War Museum (Green line). For more information call 202-204-7741.

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Tom Story as Will, Kate Eastwood Norris as Ana, Eric Messner as Rob, Ashlie Atkinson as Jen and Rachael Holmes as Lily in Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater’s production of The Book Club Play. Photo by Stan Barouh.

Despite being an avid reader, I’ve somehow missed out on the whole book club phenomenon. Maybe it’s that whole Groucho Marx "I refuse to join a club that would have me as a member" thing. So when it came time to see Karen Zacarias’ The Book Club Play at Arena Stage, who better to bring along than a friend with intimate knowledge of not one but two book clubs, someone whose involvement was so consuming she once proclaimed she was "breaking up" with book club?

"Is this anything like your book clubs?" I whispered to my friend at intermission.

"No, not really" she laughed with a wicked insider smile, "but it’s funny."

That may neatly sum up the issues with The Book Club Play. It skims the pages, lightly playing with issues like the devolution of the literary canon (is Twilight really the Wuthering Heights of our day?), and the social dynamics of readers with different commitments and backgrounds. But even in its construct, it owes more to reality shows than literature.

It’s a funny reality show though, to be sure, with broadly sketched characters against a cartoon-colored set. It’s even divided into "chapters" announced across the bottom of the stage as the various books from the sacred (Moby Dick) to the profane (The DaVinci Code) are introduced, just like some sitcoms do.

Fred Arsenault as Alex in Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater’s production of The Book Club Play. Photo by Stan Barouh.

This current version, directed by Arena’s artistic director Molly Smith, is a reworking of Zacarias’ original 2008 play, first produced at Bethesda’s Round House Theatre and the Berkshire Summer Festival. As the resident playwright for the American Voices New Play Institute in 2010, Zacarias had the opportunity to revisit The Book Club Play and add another layer to the plot. The book club members are under the lens of a fictional Danish documentarian, and snippets of his film interrupt the action. They’re also being fictionalized by the book club maven, Ana (Kate Eastwood Norris), for her own book on the book club. It’s clever, and completely self-aware of its own cleverness. Are the characters we see on stage the real people, or are they actors playing the roles in a movie of Ana’s book? Are the documentary shots even real? It’s all very meta.

The ensemble cast is delightfully zany, despite their characters being broad stereotypes (but – is that the point? and - is that point too clever?). Eastwood Norris is that perfect nightmare Type A hostess, ruling her book club with a benevolent iron grip. Eric Messner as her husband Rob has one of the play’s best moments, in the throes of an sadly comic existential crisis brought on by finally completely an assigned book – Wharton’s The Age of Innocence. Both are beloved by "is-he-gay-or-isn’t he?" college buddy Will (Tom Story, embracing the humor in the stereotype), and that unrequited messy triangle provides most of the plot’s tension. Rounding out the book club quintet is Rachael Holmes as Lily, stylishly sweet but ready to take over Ana’s newspaper column, and Ashlie Atkinson as perpetually unorganized paralegal Jen.

Into that group comes Alex (played with natural charm by Fred Asenault), the interloper, providing the remainder of the plot’s tension as he deflates the book club’s literary pretentions by enabling their secret desires for potboilers like Twilight. His character is the counterpoint to Ana, and a showdown is inevitable.

There’s no denying that The Book Club Play is funny, sometimes sweetly so, and the battle that ensues between the two camps helps examine stereotypes - and stereotypes sometimes are funny precisely because they are true. But if you’re looking for an in-depth investigation of the power of literature or its relevance in the modern world, just remember – this isn’t War and Peace.  

The Book Club Play by Karen Zacarias, at Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater, through November 6. Arena Stage is located at 1101 Sixth Street SW, Washington, DC 20024. Closest Metro stop: Waterfront (Green line). For more information call 202-488-3300.

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UPDATE: THE BOOMERANG PARTY BUS TO THE RENNFEST WITH WE LOVE DC AND THE PASSENGER IS NOW SOLD OUT! THANK YOU!

Ah, yes, it’s that time of year. The time when you begin to have strange cravings for Steak-on-a-Stick, or smoked turkey leg eaten right off the bone, gnawing away with relish like Henry VIII. Perhaps you find yourself speaking in an excruciatingly bad English accent, or inexplicably adding “e” to the ends of words like “Shop” or “Old” – well then my friend, it’s time to don thy frippery best and hie thee to the Maryland Renaissance Festival!

RennFest is always a blast, and this year we’ve decided to really let our inhibitions run wild with some good olde-fashioned goofy fun. Lots of it. And we want you to come along! We Love DC has partnered with The Passenger and the Boomerang Party Bus to bring you to the Maryland Renaissance Festival this Sunday, October 16th! Tickets are $25 and include both your bus ride to and fro ye old faire and your entry admission! Snap them up on the magickal PayPal.

We’ll depart promptly at 11am from The Passenger (that’s at 1021 7th Street NW, milords and ladies) and travel to the Festival in a refurbished school bus replete with music, mayhem and dance poles (Yes, I know that’s an anachronism. But seriously, have you seen The Tudors?). After arrival at the Festival you’re free to wander the Revel Grove, slurp down some oyster shooters, indulge in fried Oreos, beer and bee stings, testing your mad skills at archery or feats of strength, buying chainmail underwear, and just giving in to the kitschy glory that is the Maryland Renaissance Festival. Then our carriage departs around 5pm to hie back to The Passenger just in time for a late, delicious brunch.

So please come along with fellow WLDC authors Don, Fedward, myself and the rest of our motley crew as we join our favorite folks from The Passenger on a trip back in time… I may even wear a corset. HUZZAH!

Brooke Bloom and Ryan King in "Lungs" at Studio Theatre. Photo credit: Carol Pratt.

With British playwright Duncan Macmillan’s Lungs, Studio Theatre begins The Studio Lab Series – new plays produced bare bones for $20 a ticket. It’s an admirable venture that I’m excited to watch develop.

However, this first play out of the gate isn’t particularly innovative – though if the playwright’s intention is to resurrect the existential crises of the 1980’s TV series Thirtysomething for today’s thirtysomethings, then certainly he has suceeded. Or, as one woman  put it, leaving the theater in a negative huff, "white people’s problems."

It’s a pity the subject matter isn’t attacked in a more daring way, because Macmillan has a beautiful way with words. The natural cadence of the language, poetical vibrancy mixed with modern urgency, is definitely potent – but it’s at the service of the wrong plot. Lungs is jampacked with tired rom com characterizations about a young couple’s struggle to decide the future of their relationship. If it weren’t for the expressive sincerity displayed by the high professionalism of the actors and the direction, I might believe it to be an intentional (and rather cruel) satire on the "quarterlife crisis" movement. Especially as the plot can seem like hipster cliches on crack:

She’s the environmentalist PhD candidate, he’s the slacker musician! She’s a little bit psycho, he’s a little bit clueless! Wait, he’s the one who wants the baby? Insert Ikea and coffeeshop jokes! Watch out for the temp!

There’s not a single stereotypical moment in the lifeline of coupledom that isn’t explored here, the whole painful process of a paralyzed generation that supposedly thinks too much and acts too little. "I want to do everything for the right reasons," the neurotic W (Brooke Bloom) proclaims, repeatedly looking for confirmation that she and the more laid-back M (Ryan King) are a kind, thoughtful couple, that their sex can be spiritual and not pornographical, that conception is a miracle – it’s a net of words that continually destroys and rebuilds their intimacy. Though tender moments ensue occasionally as they dance around whether or not to have a baby, to break up or reconnect, the dialogue is mostly so borderline misogynistic/misanthropic in that "women are irrational psychos, men are thoughtless cheaters!" way it ultimately distracts from any greater message. It also can’t release you from the deja vu feeling that you’ve heard it all before, making it that much harder to care.

As the couple, actors Brooke Bloom and Ryan King are sensitively tuned to each other, listening and reacting with a heightened naturalism, attacking the text with true dedication – exceptionally well-played. Director Aaron Posner keeps the action simple, fast and specific, while the sparse production design by Luciana Stecconi also showcases the fine acting. One expects nothing less from Studio, but that alone can’t overcome the play’s deficiencies.

Lungs seems like an exorcism of every bad break-up story you’ve ever had to suffer through, as the cliches alternately sadden, alienate, and infuriate. There’s a fair amount of schadenfreude laughter too, which makes sense given we’ve all gone through at least one of the situations on display. It’s apparent from John Barry of DC Theatre Scene’s interview with Macmillan that the playwright earnestly believes his generation is the first to experience these things with such urgency, the first to stare down the loaded gun of environmental ruin… But as portrayed here, W and M are just the same as every other couple, as every other generation, in every other play or movie or sitcom about their plight.

The Studio Lab Series production of Lungs is in performance through October 16 at the Studio Theatre, located at 1501 14th Street NW, Washington, DC 20005. Closest Metro stops: McPherson Square (Orange/Blue lines), Dupont Circle (Red line), U Street/Cardozo (Yellow/Green lines). For more information call 202-332-3300.

E. Faye Butler as Wiletta Mayer in the Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater production of Trouble in Mind. Photo by Richard Anderson.

If there’s a theme emerging from this year’s theater offerings it’s definitely the play-within-a-play. From Venus in Fur to The Habit of Art, many recent productions have highlighted the rehearsal process itself to uncover uncomfortable truths about power and control. These are all relatively new plays riffing on an old theme, but Trouble in Mind, the 1955 play now on stage at Arena, seems just as fresh. Written by Alice Childress to blow the proverbial lid off racism in the theater of her time, it’s eeriely (and sadly) still relevant. I wasn’t expecting the play to seem so current, but its sharp eye exposes not only racism but sexism and ageism as well. You wouldn’t think a social drama could be a comedy either, but this one’s wit can be deadly and hilarious.

Reading the story of Childress’s struggle with Broadway producers over rewrites is infuriating enough. Watching her character Wiletta Mayer (E. Faye Butler) suffer the patronizing forehead kisses of her director and detail the indignities of having to be grateful to play Mammy roles just drives the discomfort home. Butler’s performance is the touchstone of this production – the war between Wiletta’s ambition to be an acclaimed actress and the betrayal of her integrity carries a constant electric charge.

That Arena, one of the first theaters to integrate black and white actors, is staging a play about an integrated cast, just adds to the frisson. But the weight of history, especially in the District, doesn’t make this a museum piece.

The cast of the Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater production of Trouble in Mind. Photo by Richard Anderson.

David Korins’ set lovingly recreates the brickwall backstage of a Broadway theater, right down to the fire safety curtain. An elaborate pre-show ritual with a disgruntled stage hand (T. Anthony Quinn) setting rehearsal tables together, only to have frenetic stage manager Eddie Fenton (Garrett Neergaard) pull them apart, sets the immediate tension.

There are all sorts of levels to the structured battle of wills always inherent in a rehearsal. As the actors enter one by one, alliances are formed and broken rapidly. The neophytes, black actor John Nevins (Brandon J. Dirden) and white actress Judy Sears (Gretchen Hall), have an immediate connection due to age and sensibility but are quickly warned apart by their older compatriots. Their journey from nervous newbies to seasoned "luvvies" is clearly defined by director Irene Lewis, raising the audience’s sympathies to hope for their success in a future that doesn’t confine them to racial and sexual stereotypes.

The veterans are led by Wiletta, her counterpart and sometimes rival Millie Davis (Starla Benford), and Sheldon Forrester (Thomas Jefferson Byrd), all well-used to playing caricatures and putting on broad smiles for their white director. Al Manners (Marty Lodge) is that typical infuriating mix of self-important charm and arrogance, though he seems to actually care about directing the play in a more exciting way – nods to the Method – he’s still the type to bully young Judy and condescend to Wiletta.

As the rehearsal unravels, it’s increasingly clear that the play-within-a-play is just a masquerade. It’s supposed to be an anti-lynching diatribe, but its ethical holes are apparent. As the racism of the plot is revealed, Wiletta finds her principles compromised. The battle between director and actor begins.

Part of the joy of this production is that despite the heavy themes explored, it’s funny – truly funny, and the humor drives the points home effectively. Lewis’s direction is so sharp and clean there’s no question this is a satire, and the actors dig in deep to both the comedy and the tragedy with brilliant results. The heart of the play is a riveting monologue about a lynching that exposes evil for what it truly is – simple and inexorable. Here the playwright’s voice comes through powerfully, as Childress shows us what kind of speech should really be in the play-within-a-play, and the moral failing inherent in its absence.

The acting here is just exquisite, from Butler and Lodge’s battle royale to Benford’s wry skewering of stereotype. Richly rewarding as well is the delicate duets between Butler and Laurence O’Dwyer as Henry, the Irish doorman who’s seen it all and been abused by all in the process. His childlike wonder still at the beauty of the theater and his doting appreciation of Wiletta as an actor, devoid of any racial or sexual or ageist overtones, is clearly the playwright’s vision of how things should be between people.

Bluntly: I can’t recommend Trouble in Mind enough.

Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater’s production of Trouble in Mind now through October 23 in the Kreeger Theater. Located at 1101 Sixth Street NW, Washington DC 20024. Closest Metro stop: Waterfront (Green line). For more information call 202-488-3300.

Jack Rose Dining Saloon has been opening in stages, overlooking the seemingly interminable construction at the intersection of 18th Street and Florida Avenue NW. Now that the dust is finally clearing from the brand new sidewalk outside, its long-awaited dinner menu has debuted as well and is being served seven nights a week in the downstairs dining room and bar. The upstairs patio has been in full swing for most of the summer and is due to continue the grilling and swilling through the fall, including a Tiki bar on the back porch that served me up some killer classics two weeks ago when I visited for the official debut of the downstairs menu.

The key visual of Jack Rose is certainly its downstairs dining room’s wall of scotches, bourbons and spirits – 1400 bottles lining the bar in bookcases of booze. Between liquor, wine and beer the catalog of offerings can be a bit staggering, but the elegant room invites relaxed sifting through the menu while sipping some Ardbeg at the long bar, watching bartenders climb up ladders library-style to fetch bottles. Turn a corner at Jack Rose and the atmosphere can instantly change – every space here has its own feel, so give yourself some wandering time before deciding where you’d like to perch for a while.

Upstairs is divided into several sections, including a front balcony overlooking 18th Street off a small lounge bar complete with fireplace, the main open-air deck with a wood-fire grill and bar, and the small back bar that’s slowly turning into a Tiki spot. I started back there and almost never left, as a friend sipped a perfect Painkiller. After watching the moon rise off the back porch with a classic Mai Tai (orgeat syrup? yes please!) it was time to head downstairs and sample some whiskey cocktails from the excellent selection crafted by Rachel Sergi.

‘Painkiller at Jack Rose’s Tiki bar’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

‘Walls of Whiskey at Jack Rose’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

The downstairs dining room features about twenty cocktails for $13 each, divided into Classics like the Bee’s Knees and New Creations like the two I sampled. The first, Knuckleball, was a ridiculously delicious drink with Wry Moon white whiskey. If you haven’t tried white whiskey yet, “white” simply refers to whiskey that hasn’t yet been aged (also called “white dog” or well, moonshine). Wry Moon is unaged Kentucky rye made in small batches by Corsair Artisans, and in this drink it’s beautifully rounded out with Cocchi Americano, Pernod absinthe, Aztec Chocolate bitters, and Maldon sea salt. It reminded me of eating salty caramels.

‘Cocktail, Jack Rose Dining Saloon’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

‘Mixing Up Drinks at Jack Rose’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

The second cocktail I tried, with the clever name of Not Your Mother’s Scotch Bonnet, uses Bushmill’s Irish Whiskey as its base. Before you think it’s cheeky to use Irish whiskey in a drink with Scotch in the name, the Scotch here refers instead to the Scotch Bonnet pepper syrup (let’s not start an international incident!). The peppery heat is well contrasted by Combier orange liqueur, Dubonnet, and both grapefruit juice and grapefruit bitters. A wicked gorgeous combination of spicy, sweet and bitter flavors.

‘Cocktails, Jack Rose Dining Saloon’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

In the fall, Jack Rose will hold events to highlight the natural affinity of whiskey and cigars, as well as pairing dinners held the first Monday of every month – kicking it off October 3 with an Irish whiskey dinner featuring Knappogue Castle 12yr, 16yr and 1951 (a good friend ranks this whiskey his personal favorite, so I’m seriously excited to share the news!). There’s also something for beer lovers – on October 4 it will debut Flying Dog’s newest beer poured from a pumpkin cask (yes, carved from an actual pumpkin), along with fifteen other pumpkin ales just in time for autumn breezes. I’m looking forward to working my way through the cocktail menu, expanding my whiskey knowledge, and watching the harvest moon rise.

Jack Rose Dining Saloon is now open for dinner seven nights a week. Located at 2007 18th Street NW, Washington DC 20009. For more information call 202-588-7388.

Irakli Kavsadze and Irina Tsikurishvili in Synetic Theater's 2011 production of Macbeth. Photo credit: Graeme B. Shaw

What would you do for absolute power? Could you kill your friend? Murder children? Call it justice? Watch out. On the path to conquering the world, you might lose your soul. “Fair is foul and foul is fair…”

There’s a gasp-inducing moment in Synetic Theater’s production of Macbeth that focuses it as a straight-up morality tale. Lady Macbeth, in the last throes of madness induced by guilt, slides into a hellish hole like blood down a drain. It’s terrifying, as Irina Tsikurishvili’s eyes roll around and the watching witches smile demonically in approval.

It’s hard to remember there once was a time when Synetic seemed to come out of nowhere, with images like this one shaking up the DC theatre scene. Their physically combustive style was almost subversive in its daring. Now that they’re more established, at home in Crystal City, they could easily rest on the accolades gained by their current signature style of Silent Shakespeare, and audiences might not blame them for it. But I doubt there will be much resting by Synetic’s driven artistic team, and I’m interested to see what they come up with in the next phase.

Before they move on with new explorations of world physical theater next year, their Silent Shakespeare Festival Speak No More revives three of their popular wordless adaptations – Macbeth, Othello (my personal favorite) and Romeo & Juliet. Each run will be just about three weeks - Macbeth closes October 2.

This revival of the 2007 production is darkly militaristic. Forget the tartan. Bring on the choke chain.

Irina Tsikurishvili, Mary Werntz and Philip Fletcher in Synetic Theater's 2011 production of Macbeth. Photo credit: Graeme B. Shaw

Director Paata Tsikurishvili dispenses with the fair immediately, as three saintly representatives of the world’s religions are hijacked by three demonic witches (Philip Fletcher, Mary Werntz and Sarah Taurchini) who seethe with foulness. The object of their corruption, fearsome soldier Macbeth (Irakli Kavsadze), already seems destined for hell with his hollow eyes. His wife (Irina Tsikurishvili) is already dripping with metaphorical blood in shocking red gloves. It doesn’t take much to push these two over the edge of ambition into murder and madness.

If there’s a flaw in this production, it’s simply that the Macbeths as portrayed here are already pretty repulsive. In a seductive way, yes, as they slither deeper into depravity, but they don’t have much of a journey from fair to foul. That’s a ponderous atmosphere to hang out in, even for ninety minutes. Perhaps it just more strongly highlights for me the company’s progression to their more psychologically subtle work, like last year’s Othello.

But Macbeth also does succeed, especially when it showcases Synetic’s ability to mix in comedy in a rather startling way – as when the ghost of Banquo (Ryan Sellers) appears at a chillingly hilarious banquet populated by robotic guests, while Lady Macbeth nonchalantly smokes, like a majestic Dietrich in a cowboy saloon. When the witches mime Macbeth’s invincibility to “no man of woman born” with the grotesque leers of nightmare midwives, it has the punch of a sick joke.

The ensemble has reached a point where they telegraph the metaphor and meaning inherent in Irina Tsikurishvili’s choreography with extreme effectiveness, and it still generates a riveting response. That clearly defined aesthetic is equally apparent in the production design, with the cold darkwave world of Anastasia R. Simes’ set/costume design well matched by the industrial electronica of Konstantine Lortkipanidze’s music.

It’s a killer goth club atmosphere against which these devious Macbeths can tango, in a true danse macabre.

Synetic Theater’s production of Macbeth runs now through October 2, located at 1800 South Bell Street, Arlington, VA. Closest Metro stop: Crystal City (Yellow/Blue lines). For more information call 1-800-494-8497.

Ted van Griethuysen and Paxton Whitehead in The Habit of Art. Photo: Scott Suchman

Artistic process. Can it make for a sexy night at the theater? The grueling path to perfection through grinding repetition, as the artist develops techniques and habits that can release creativity or stifle it, sometimes makes for a great play. Sometimes not. Recently Studio Theatre explored the artistic process in Venus in Fur, where the artist must grapple with his muse in a deadly game. It was electrifying.

But not all process is sexy. Sometimes it’s downright plodding. The Habit of Art is another play-within-a-play about rehearsal and collaboration, written by British playwright Alan Bennett (perhaps best known to American audiences as the writer of The Madness of King George). It’s a dense work that might delight lovers of British theater history (Laurence Olivier, Alec Guinness and Richard Eyre all have important references), taking place as it does in a rehearsal room at the National Theatre. It might also delight lovers of British culture, as the play-within-a-play details the charged reunion of former collaborators, poet W.H. Auden and composer Benjamin Britten.

There are moments of hilarity interspersed with painful truths, as Bennett skewers all facets of the artistic process. There are also moments of well, boredom, just as in life. Though it features a talented cast, a thoughtful director, and a fascinating subject, often I found The Habit of Art difficult to watch because of its realism – parts drag on like an afternoon with a brilliant old don who has lost his spark. Only at the very end was I teased by a monologue that made me realize that may be Bennett’s intention, as a stage manager simply explains how the very habits of the artistic process, the act of trying repeatedly to achieve success even in the face of failure, may be the true value after all.

The Habit of Art details the rehearsal of a play called Caliban’s Day, bringing us right into that awful point during rehearsal when actors are doubting their capabilities and characters. To make matters worse, the director is out of town and the playwright has unexpectedly arrived, shifting the balance of power to the stage manager who would be happy to just get through a run. Fitz, playing W.H. Auden (Ted van Griethuysen) is a grand old man of the theater having a hard time remembering his lines, and Donald, playing biographer Humphrey Carpenter (Cameron Folmar) is desperately seeking character validation. Playwright Neil (Wynn Harmon) is horrified at every turn by the directorial choices while assistant stage manager George (Matt Dewberry) needs to learn how to properly handle histrionic actors. Everyone has a challenge to face in their particular process, helped and also hindered by the habits they’ve picked up already.

Caliban’s Day presents the shabby Oxford study of Auden as he prepares to meet Britten after a long separation. But first, he needs to piss in the sink and “suck off” a rent boy (Randy Harrison, playing Tim playing Stuart) and Britten needs to ogle a choir boy he’s auditioning (Sam O’Brien, playing Charlie playing Boy). The play seems to have more smut than poetry, perhaps an internal satire by Bennett of the type of bio-play that gets produced frequently, where the subjects sexuality takes center stage over any in-depth exploration of their actual work. But it has moments of philosophical interest too, in its desire to elevate the artist’s muses to equal status. Caliban’s Day also features bits of silly surrealism like talking chairs and pens, presented as hilarious and painful moments that stage manager Kay (Margaret Daly) attempts to reassure will eventually get worked out when the director returns. Fitz intermittently tries out a ghastly mask to approximate Auden’s distinctive wrinkles. It’s a mess of a day, a snapshot of that one rehearsal everyone fears, when doubt reigns over all.

The company here are all excellent, especially Cameron Folmar’s neurotic actor Donald and Margaret Daly’s tough soldier of an SM. Paxton Whitehead bravely captures the uncomfortable nature of Britten, and Ted van Griethuysen shines best when reciting Auden’s beautiful In Memory of W.B. Yeats. James Noone’s set perfectly captures the halfway point of a play in rehearsal, and Nancy Schertler’s lighting has that oppressive rehearsal room glare. Though I admire David Muse’s thoughtful directorial approach, at times here the pacing drags, and it’s unclear whether this is an intentional choice given the realism necessary for the play or if there’s a need to pump up the urgency. Also the differentiation between the two worlds can wobble, almost timidly, and again it’s unclear whether that’s supposed to represent the actors own tentative state at that stage of rehearsal or if there’s a need to sharpen the separation between play and play-within.

Ultimately, it’s a densely philosophical play with sparks of hilarity and a rhythm that may be too casual at times to hold interest for those not already intrigued by the habits of art and the artistic process. But if you are, there’s enough worlds to explore.

The Habit of Art performs now through October 16 at the Studio Theatre, located at 1501 14th Street NW, Washington, DC 20005. Closest Metro stop: McPherson Square (Orange/Blue lines), U Street/Cardozo (Yellow/Green lines). For more information call 202-332-3300.

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You’re probably familiar with the fact that wine and whiskey are aged in barrels. But cocktails? It may seem like a trend, popping up in bars in London, Portland and New York for the past year or so, but it’s actually a much older revival – aging cocktail ingredients in oak barrels was a popular technique back at the turn of the last century. But for Bibiana’s general manager Francesco Amodeo, it’s not a matter of trend. It’s practical.

“I was talking to my mother about their cellar at home,” he tells me, referring to the family home on the Amalfi Coast, “what to do with all the barrels?” His grandfather makes wine, and his mother was looking to get rid of the excess refuse. Francesco jumped at the chance to put them to another use. Starting with two sizes, 1 and 5 liter barrels, he’s crafted two cocktails for Bibiana that were just uncorked for the first time Tuesday evening after three months of aging.

As they’re produced in small quantities (at least until Francesco’s grandfather finishes crafting a 250 liter barrel for him) they’ll go fast, so get over to taste them. Aging cocktails gives the liquor a beautiful toasty quality, rounding out the flavor. Let’s take a closer look at Francesco’s two drinks and the process.

‘Aged Cocktail Barrels at Bibiana’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

Francesco mixed up two cocktails on June 9th and away they went to age in these perfectly miniature barrels. It’s important that the ingredients are solely liquor-based – for example, if the recipe calls for freshly squeezed fruit or even sparkling wine, you don’t want to add that to the drinks until after the aging process. Also, Francesco advises being careful with liquor that already has a strong smoky quality, as that will intensify in the oak barrel.

‘Ready to Uncork’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

The first aged cocktail that I sampled was the Katia, made with Redemption rye whiskey, Amaro Averna, marasca liqueur and chocolate bitters (those last two made in house). This drink could quite frankly be renamed “Jenn Catnip” as I’m a sucker for Italian digestifs. Aging the cocktail resulted in a rich, round caramel taste with the liquid noticeably deeper in color. It’s beautifully complex and definitely meant to be sipped slowly, giving everything an autumnal glow.

‘”Katia” aged cocktail at Bibiana’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

Next up was the Maddalena, which is a riff on the classic Negroni – the usual trinity of gin, Campari and sweet vermouth were aged three months, and then after uncorking Francesco finished off the drink with prosecco and a lemon peel garnish. Again the flavors seemed smoothed out, mellowed – like the last day of summer after a long beach weekend.

‘Aged Cocktails at Bibiana’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

Francesco mixed up versions of the two cocktails unaged for comparison, and it was fascinating to see how aging deepens the color and rounds out the taste. “I can make magic,” he quipped, “I am Neapolitan.” Part of the challenge and the fun of making aged cocktails is that Francesco has to look ahead when deciding what drinks to feature – after all, it takes three months before the cocktails are ready, so seasonal forecast is important. When he put down these two it was the height of summer, but the Katia especially makes you ready for fall.

‘Walnuts in a Glass’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

As a special lagniappe, Francesco also gave me a little tour of the housemade liquors at Bibiana, which were absolutely delicious – limoncello, walnuts, even biscotti flavored! Something I had never tasted before and went right to my addiction list was the one made of coffee, barley coffee, and over 20 spices. Ridiculously rich and intense, Francesco called it “concerto, like concert,” and I’ll definitely be back to sip some more.

‘Housemade at Bibiana’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

The two barrel aged cocktails I sampled Tuesday are available now until the barrels run dry, priced at $16 each. Given the amount of time that goes into their preparation and the fact that they really are sipping drinks, I think that’s a fair cost. After this batch is done, the barrels will be dried out for their next mix. I can’t wait to see what’s next uncorked, in three months when winter’s upon us happy lushes.

Bibiana is located at 1100 New York Avenue NW, Washington, DC 20005. Closest Metro stop: Metro Center (Red/Orange/Blue). For more information call 202.216.9555.

Andreu Honeycutt as Lord Rama in Constellation Theatre Company's 2011 remount of The Ramayana. Photo credit: Scott Suchman.

If you were one of the many potential audience members turned away at the doors of Source last summer for The Ramayana’s sold-out run, you’re in luck. Constellation Theatre Company has remounted its production for a limited three week engagement now through August 21, and in many ways it’s a superior show than before. Subtle changes have tightened the pacing and streamlined the focus, certainly due to director Allison Arkell Stockman, and the cast’s confidence in embodying a multiverse of the sacred and profane is noticeably stronger, with several new faces to rediscover roles.

As with last year, three elements provide the visual, aural and emotional backbone of this production – the gorgeous pageantry of Kendra Rai’s costume design, the expressive sound design of percussionist Tom Teasley, and the journey of Hanuman the monkey god. Returning with the live music performance that won him the 2011 Helen Hayes Award for Outstanding Sound Design, Teasley’s magical beats propel the audience into another world. His continued collaborations with Constellation really help define their particular epic theater style. Rai’s costumes also help dissolve the modern world for the audience – still simply sumptuous (and I want to steal all the accessories).

But you don’t have to be familiar with the first run to enjoy the second. Playwright Peter Oswald’s take on one of India’s most beloved and scared texts weaves essential questions of philosophy and religion through the love story of Rama and Sita as they battle the demon Ravana. Though there’s plenty of humor to be had as they enlist the help of forest creatures like the monkeys and the bears, it’s essentially a serious quest, the interplay between divinity and humanity.

Matthew McGloin as Hanuman in Constellation Theatre Company's 2011 remount of The Ramayana. Photo credit: Scott Suchman.

That relationship between gods and mortals has its fullest expression in the play with the journey of Hanuman, the monkey who discovers his true nature is divine through his devotion to Rama and Sita. Last year I loved Joe Brack’s performance in this role; this year I’m equally enthusiastic about Matthew McGloin’s interpretation. Perhaps it’s Hanuman himself who comes through so beautifully in Oswald’s writing, or that part of our humanity is being naturally sympathetic to stories of the underdog becoming a superhero. Both McGloin’s gymnastic physicality and playful primate vocality are delightful, the emotional backbone keeping the tale of gods and demons battling it out from becoming too remote. Also notably new to the cast is Jon Odom, playing the monkey king Sugriva with a mix of snappy comic timing and woeful pathos (in fact, all the monkeys have really found their rhythm this run, more endearingly hilarious than chaotic). Stepping into the ensemble as well are Maboud Ebrahimzadeh as the demon king’s brother and Keith Irby as bear king Jambavan, both with ease and gravitas.

Constellation’s complete and fearless dedication to their epic theater style continues to evolve, and it’s that risk-taking which is such a pleasure to watch. A remount of a popular production might be considered a safe bet in the summer, but this isn’t a company resting on laurels – it’s obvious that thoughtful changes were made where they could be, and for the most part the ensemble is pushing themselves to new discoveries. That The Ramayana was so popular last year suggests that DC audiences are willing to sit through a long performance that mixes spectacle, dense philosophy, humor and reverence in a style that dances beyond naturalism. Next summer they’ll tackle Timberlake Wertenbaker’s haunting The Love of the Nightingale, with Teasley returning to perform live. I have a feeling it will prove to be as popular and interesting a production as this one.

Constellation Theatre Company’s production of The Ramayana plays now through August 21 at the Source Theatre, located at 1835 14th Street NW, Washington, DC 20001. Closest Metro: U Street (Green/Yellow lines). For more information call 202.204.7741.

Interest in gardening is on the rise, from my neighbors growing tomatoes in patio containers to community gardens bursting with multiple produce plots. Increasingly there’s a practical need to provide access to affordable food through growing your own. Early this week I attended an intimate event honoring a local community gardening hero. It was by far one of the more inspiring evenings I’ve spent in a while, whose honoree proves that persistence to a simple idea and dedication to helping others can result in good for all.

For the past three years, Woodbridge by Robert Mondavi has supported Giving Through Growing, a partnership program with the American Community Gardening Association (ACGA). This year they’ve awarded $40,000 to four community gardening ‘Heroes’ who made the grade in a nationwide contest, and Arlington’s Alison Kindler of the Fort Barnard Community Garden is one. Top Chef alum Candice Kumai is the GTG ambassador, and she was also on hand to salute Kindler’s efforts to enrich our community through growing fresh food for urban families. Fort Barnard has been in operation since 1975 – they even have their own bee hives! The garden works closely with the Arlington Food Assistance Center (AFAC), which helps provide groceries to families in need. Some 8% of Arlingtonians live below the poverty line and the percentage is increasing – AFAC distributes to over 1,200 families each week. Fort Barnard dedicates one of their garden plots exclusively to AFAC.

Kindler started gardening at Fort Barnard some twenty years ago, with a plot as a Father’s Day present for her husband. “Here, honey, you can go play in the dirt,” she quipped, but her main motivation at the time was really to grow organic produce and be able to put “healthy, safe food on the table.”

‘Woodbridge Robert Mondavi wines’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

Winning the GTG grant will enable Kindler to help better organize the AFAC plot as they continue utilizing the square footage gardening method, expanding the raised beds, installing a drip water system with a timer so the volunteers can more easily work on their own plots in tandem, and develop better composting. Listening to the obviously passionate Kindler detail her plans inspired me to learn more about community gardening in my neighborhood. For Arlingtonians, Fort Barnard is definitely popular – though about seven plots open up each year, there’s a two year waiting list.

‘Candice Kumai’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

GTG ambassador Candice Kumai noted that the importance of access to farm fresh foods is both healthy for the individual and helpful to communities. Kumai is an enthusiastic advocate of farm-to-table eating habits and how they can bring communities back together in a strong communal spirit – echoing the principles of the late Robert Mondavi. As host of Lifetime’s Cook Yourself Thin and author of the cookbook Pretty Delicious, she’s also proof that eating healthily can give you a gorgeous glow!

‘Zola Wine & Kitchen’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

Zola Wine & Kitchen was the setting for the event, serving up seasonal delicacies like lavender grilled scallops (prompting a discussion with Washington Gardener’s knowledgeable editor Kathy Jentz about a local lavender farm that sounds like a must visit) and lamb chops with a pecan and currant relish. All locally sourced, of course. Woodbridge by Robert Mondavi supplied the wine, offering their pinot grigio, cabernet sauvignon, and sparkling wine. It was all very relaxed and conducive to conversation, and I came away convinced I need to cultivate more gardening in my life, and certainly more community outreach.

‘Chef at Work’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

‘Lamb Chops’
courtesy of ‘Jenn Larsen’

Taking control of one’s own food source through organic gardening was once seen as a little eccentric. Now with an ever more uncertain economy and many in dire need, it’s become a real practicality. Local ‘Heroes’ like Alison Kindler are proof of that, and a true inspiration.

You’ve seen it all over social media. You’ve heard Samuel L. Jackson and maybe even Werner Herzog narrate it. You’ve probably laughed your ass off. Even if you don’t have children and haven’t a clue how agonizingly painfully frustrating it can be to get them down for that nap, I bet you’ve heard of Go the F*ck to Sleep.

Author Adam Mansbach is in town tonight for a reading of his own work at P.J. Clarke’s from 6pm-8pm. The event is free and open to the public with copies of Go the F*ck to Sleep available for purchase and signing. It’s his only area appearance. Mansbach’s book is a current New York Times bestseller and definitely one of the more hilarious satires around, but he’s also no slouch in other areas – such as being the founding editor of ’90s hip hop journal Elementary, an authority on hip hop culture and aesthetics, and author of notable novels like Angry Black White Boy.

Not bad cred. I think I’ll pick up a signed copy for my newbie parent friends. Hopefully they won’t throw it at me for not being sleep deprived and surrounded by diapers.

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