By Zoe Yabrove
By Bree Davies
By Byron Graham
By Susan Froyd
By Josiah M. Hesse
By Bree Davies
By Susan Froyd
By Kate Gibbons
The Catch. Ken Weitzman's play explores the well-worn concept of baseball as a metaphor for America itself, but in new and interesting ways. In the hands of Darryl Love, the boastful, charismatic player at the center of the story, the ball itself becomes a symbol, its seams stitching over the country's flaws: the racism that sidelined talented black players for years, the emphasis on commercialism and the quick deal, the jacked-up greed that brought about the financial meltdown. But this is also a story about fathers: a Japanese-American who was sent to an internment camp during World War II and whose memory his son Michael still seeks to redeem; Sid Zipnik, a Polish Jew who escaped the armies of both Russia and Germany, lost everything, and intends to hold on to the one thing he owns — a crumbling house in Chicago — until his fingers break. The play is set in San Francisco, where Sid is visiting his son, Gary, and the plot is based on fact. In 1998, baseball player Mark McGwire hit a home run, and the ball — caught by a fan — eventually sold for three million dollars. Barry Bonds broke the single-season home-run record three years later and, after a wild scramble, two men ended up claiming his ball. Naturally, legal proceedings followed. Gary, a genuinely original character who combines serious smarts with a delusional nuttiness so impenetrable that it almost rises to greatness, is the first to catch Darryl Love's prized ball. His failed dot-com venture has lost him both his wife and his home, and he's desperate to get them back, along with the respect of emotionally stunted Sid. There are a lot of laughs as the plot unfolds, but there's also a tragedy in the baffled, twisted bond between Gary and Sid. Presented by the Denver Center Theatre Company through February 26, Space Theatre, Denver Performing Arts Complex, 303-893-4100, www.denvercenter.org. Reviewed February 3.
Circle Mirror Transformation. At a small-town community center, four people are participating in an acting workshop run by Marty, who combines a little knowledge of theater with quite a bit of new-agey yearning. The participants are Marty's husband, one-time hippie James; sexy Theresa, who spent time in New York and has a smidgen of acting experience; good-guy carpenter Schultz; and sullen teenager Lauren. Everything you learn about these people, and pretty much the entire plot of Circle Mirror Transformation, comes from the acting exercises they go through together, though every now and then there's a solitary moment or a fragment of before-class dialogue, usually cut tantalizingly short by the arrival of others. No major drama, nothing climactic, no big resolutions, no straining for significance. Just moments of insight — partial, elliptical — that glimmer into view, then vanish almost before you can take them in, and a conclusion that's pure magic. Under the direction of Christopher Leo, both the technical values and the casting are first-rate. And where has Mark Rubald been all this time? No other actor around can make low-key decency so deeply appealing, and the dynamic between his Schultz and Barbra Andrews's lithe and sharply expressive Theresa is one of the strongest threads in an altogether strong evening. Presented by Curious Theatre Company through February 26, 1080 Acoma Street, 303-623-0524, www.curioustheatre.org. Reviewed January 27.
The Good Body. Having created a full-out exploration of women's relationships with their vaginas in The Vagina Monologues, feminist playwright Eve Ensler has turned her attention to female bodies in general with The Good Body, a compassionate, would-be reassuring look at the the near-universal American neurosis on the subject. The show is watchable, empathetic and way smarter than most girls-night-out stuff; it puts our obsessive physical narcissism into an international context — at least a little. How puny our self-involvement looks, for example, when the protagonist — Eve herself, the script being autobiographical — is offered a share of an elderly African woman's meager lunch and responds, "Oh, I don't eat bread." Ensler interviewed several women for this piece, and their comments provide some of the script's best moments. Helen Gurley Brown herself appears, still exercising obsessively in her eighties, refusing to believe that her husband really finds her attractive. A teenage girl at a fat camp is torn between self-loathing and celebrating the generosity and fullness of her body. A Puerto Rican woman proudly sashays her big butt, but expresses her terror of its eventual spread. Even when she goes overseas, Eve works out; she haunts gyms in Italy and India. But she also notices how differently the women she encounters think about themselves. "Here we live in our bodies," the African woman explains. "They do our work." And in Afghanistan, still under Taliban rule, she is led to a hidden place where women eat vanilla ice cream — a crime for which they could be beaten or even killed. Although the play doesn't bring anything particularly revelatory to a topic that's been explored so thoroughly already, it does serve as a rather touching encomium to the female body. Presented by Avenue Theater through February 26, 417 East 17th Avenue, 303-321-5925, www.avenuetheater.com. Reviewed February 10.
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