By Show and Tell
By Bree Davies
By Bree Davies
By Cory Casciato
By Emilie Johnson
By Robin Edwards
By Bree Davis
By Josiah M. Hesse
Dead Man Walking. We are one of the last Western nations to retain the death penalty, but you don't hear much about it these days. Where executions were once front-page news, they're now relegated to single paragraphs far back in the paper — if they're mentioned at all. In an attempt to bring light to the subject, Sister Helen Prejean published Dead Man Walking, an account of her work with death-row inmates; the book became a film in 1996. Actor Tim Robbins's version of the script is agitprop, though agitprop in an honorable tradition. It shows Sister Prejean, played here by Terry Ann Watts, being drawn inexorably into contact with Matt Poncelet, who killed a teenage boy and raped the boy's companion, then stood by while his partner murdered her. Scene by scene, we're led through the issues surrounding capital punishment: The loneliness of death row inmates and the inhuman bureaucratic process that has a living man measured for his coffin are weighed against the agony of the victims' families and their demands for revenge. We're also privy to Sister Prejean's spiritual uncertainty in the face of all this, and her determination to bring something human — empathy, conversation, a piece of music — into the gray, equivocal world of death row. Although Watts gives a beautiful performance and Steve Pardun holds up his end as Poncelet, most of the rest of the cast seems to comprise non-actors, and this, coupled with the fact that the script needs trimming, makes for a long evening. Still, the Victorian should be commended for bringing attention to this important issue. Presented by Glass Slipper Productions and the Denver Victorian Playhouse through June 3, 4201 Hooker Street, 303-433-4343, www.denvervic.com. Reviewed April 26.
Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead. Apparently major changes occurred when members of Charles Schulz's well-loved Peanuts gang reached their teens: Pigpen became a sex-obsessed, homophobic jock; Lucy entered a psych ward after setting the little red-haired girl's hair on fire; Linus morphed into a dazed pothead; Schroeder became gay. And Snoopy died of rabies. Although this play uses none of the actual names from the strip, it's pretty easy to tell who represents whom. And despite the sex and drugs, despite a sudden and unexpected turn into violence, Dog Sees Godis less a sendup than an affectionate tribute, as essentially sweet-natured as the cartoon strip itself. The play does have flaws — an inconsistency in some of the characters, the occasional stereotypical comment or action. But as directed by Nick Sugar, it makes for a funny, endearing and occasionally touching evening. Presented by Avenue Theater through June 9, 417 East 17th Avenue, 303-321-5925, www.avenuetheater.com. Reviewed May 17.
Mall*Mart, the Musical! Curious Theatre's Mall*Mart, the Musical! seems to break into two different productions. The first act details the life of one Walt Samson — a stand-in for Sam Walton, founder of Wal-Mart — and shows his rise to wealth and prominence, as well as the wreckage he left in his wake. The script is flat and the acting execrable. But after the intermission, something miraculous happens. The script gets lively and clever. The very same performers spring to life, becoming humorous, eccentric, even touching people — caricatures still, but also real human beings: tired workers, wolfish business execs, a young couple torn apart by the husband's shopaholism. This is telling social commentary but also terrific theater, replete with a slew of great songs by Bruce Barthol. You've heard all the arguments against Wal-Mart, and author Joan Holden makes them all again here, but from her affectionate parody of old-hippie, stoner bands to her weird AA-style shopaholic support group, the tone is stylish and good-humored. Presented by Curious Theatre Company through June 9, Acoma Center, 1080 Acoma Street, 303-623-0524, www.curioustheatre.org. Reviewed May 10.
Ragtime. Leonard Barrett has taken over the role of Coalhouse Walker, previously performed by Jeffrey Nickelson, in Ragtime at Boulder's Dinner Theatre. Nickelson was a powerful Walker with a resonant baritone; Barrett's portrayal is equally good and altogether different. He's a smaller, slighter figure than Nickelson, and on first appearance doesn't dominate the stage or exude authority in the same way. But he's fascinating in his own right. Coalhouse Walker is the enigmatic heart of Ragtime — a black musician who has just won back the woman he loves and their child when he faces a vicious racist insult. His rage is justifiable, but the murderous rampage it inspires is not. Yet because his story is set in a time when American workers were fighting for a living wage and Jewish immigrants were struggling to survive in their mean tenements, he's on some level a revolutionary hero, and he remains charismatic throughout. You find yourself watching him when the other characters are talking, wondering what's going on behind his eyes. Aided by heart-stirring music, Barrett makes Walker charming and sympathetic, as well as dangerous. A jazz singer, he brings a supple, fluid approach to both his acting and his singing. Ragtime was excellent when it opened, but now it's even better. Over the past two months, most of the cast members have settled deeply into their roles. Shelly Cox-Robie's performance as Mother remains sweet and clear; Reynelda Snell still takes off the top of your head with her singing; Wayne Kennedy makes Tateh's rags-to-riches story as human as ever; and John Scott Clough's Father is even more complex and interesting than it was before. And on the night I attended, the energy and conviction of Lea L. Chapman and the rest of the ensemble brought the packed house to its feet. Presented by Boulder's Dinner Theatre through May 26, 5501 Arapahoe Avenue, Boulder, 303-449-6000, www.theatreinboulder.com. Re-reviewed May 10.