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Fiction. In the first scene of Fiction, two people argue and flirt in a Paris cafe. They seem entirely familiar with each other; their argument, though heightened and intensely clever, still has the comfortable, teasing, accustomed rhythms you expect of a conversation between lovers. But in the second scene we learn that this was actually the first meeting of now long-married writers Michael and Linda Waterman, or rather — it takes a little longer to figure this out — the first meeting as Michael recorded it. Now Michael is the kind of blockbuster novelist his younger self scorned, while Linda has never been able to repeat the success of her first novel, famed not only for its writing, but for its tragic autobiographical elements. Playwright Steven Dietz is a clever soul. His plotting is cunning, and the layers of complexity he builds around the basic concepts of truth and fiction are even more so. As written, Michael and Linda are fascinating, but you wouldn't really want to know them; they'd be the kind of dinner-party guests whose self-conscious wit silenced everyone else. But director Richard H. Pegg has cast Rhonda Brown and Thomas Borrillo, two actors of such warmth and appeal that you can't help empathizing with them. The result is a fascinating evening — and that's no fiction. Presented by Miners Alley Playhouse through April 24. 1224 Washington Avenue, Golden, 303-935-3044, Reviewed March 17.

Homebody/Kabul. The greatest strength of Tony Kushner's Homebody/Kabul lies in the hour-long opening monologue, in which an eccentric British housewife, holding an outdated guidebook to Kabul, tries to get her arms around the great, rich, anguished and turbulent mystery that is Afghanistan. Surrounded by people of diverse cultures and religions, sequentially occupied, Kabul once served as a crossroads for the ancient world, with trade routes converging on it from the north, south, east and west, and Kushner's genius was to put his own thirst for understanding into the soul and body of this woman, who interweaves the book's plethora of facts with her interpretations and imaginings, ponders the passage of time (an important theme) and muses on her own safe life in London. She's an entirely original creation. Having made her pilgrimage to Kabul, the Homebody vanishes — either torn to pieces as she wanders burqa-less, or having fallen in love with an Afghan man and decided to convert to Islam; the script suggests both. By the time we learn this, though, the play has turned prosaic. The Homebody's husband and daughter go to Afghanistan to find her, and what a wretched pair they are. Husband Milton spends the entire visit in a hotel room, afraid of venturing out. Daughter Priscilla has two modes: angry or whining. Convinced her mother isn't dead, she goes racing in search of her, abusing people she finds insufficiently helpful, carelessly tossing off her burqa whenever she can — which, given her mother's possible fate, is unforgivably stupid. When she reveals a suicide attempt and an inadvertent abortion in a far-too-long scene with her father, I can't tell whether we're supposed to empathize or see her so-conventional traumas as puny against the vast canvas of Afghan suffering. In all, though, this production is a large, interesting and raggedly ambitious work. Presented by Curious Theatre Company through April 16, 1080 Acoma Street, 303-623-0524, Reviewed March 24.

Ruined. One of the most troubled and lawless places in the world right now is the Democratic Republic of Congo — and if everyone’s life there is hell, Congolese women, raped and mutilated by the thousands, are condemned to the lowest circle. In attempting a play about the plight of these women — several of whom she interviewed in refugee camps — Lynn Nottage faced a couple of obvious problems: how to keep the work from devolving into a polemic, and how to communicate the sheer horror of the situation without losing her entire audience. Still, she’s fully succeeded. Ruined, a Pulitzer Prize winner, is neither self-righteous nor demoralizing. It is a richly textured, compassionate, tough-minded evening of theater, filled with characters as life-affirming as they are profoundly and shamefully victimized. The action takes place in a bar and whorehouse run by Mama Nadi, a woman hardened in flame who’ll do whatever she must in order to survive. Her latest recruits are Sophie, an intelligent young woman with a good singing voice and a head for numbers, who has been raped with a bayonet and ruined for sex, and Salima, whose story is equally harrowing: Kidnapped by soldiers, held as a slave and gang-raped at will, she finally returned home, only to be rejected by her husband. These two join Josephine, daughter of a tribal chief who proved unable to protect her, who hopes her regular customer, the Lebanese merchant Harari, will provide a safe harbor. The patrons are sometimes pathetic, sometimes drunkenly out of control, always frightening. From outside comes the steady crackle of gunfire. And still there are moments of humor and even joy. Most important, Nottage provides redemption at the play’s end — a not entirely convincing redemption, given the grimness of the situation, but, because of that same grimness, as artistically satisfying as it is deeply necessary. Presented by the Denver Center Theatre Company through April 30, Ricketson Theatre, Denver Performing Arts Complex, 303-893-4100, Reviewed April 7.

Traces. The talented acrobats of Traces aren’t dressed, Cirque-style, in masks or feathers; they’re not working with artsy, enigmatic, mythical stories or cavorting in fairytale landscapes. They’re just a group of folks in dull gray, brown and black street clothes. They share a little information about themselves, though not a lot, and if there’s a story here, it’s fairly undefined. For the most part, these seem to be kids hanging around on a street corner, dancing, jostling each other, fighting a bit; there’s a screen behind them that sometimes flickers with black-and-white images and sometimes shows Chinese characters or drawings of skyscrapers, and the music ranges from pulse-pounding to old songs to soft, Erik Satie-like piano phrases, often produced by the multi-talented cast members themselves. But the real story lies in the acrobatics: someone skimming weightlessly up a pole, then stretching his body out in a true horizontal; actors leaping straight up from the ground and over each other’s bodies; Florian Zumkehr doing impossible tricks with an ever-growing pile of chairs; the group at times using skateboards as bats, or making like Fred Astaire with his elegant cane. Presented by Denver Center Attractions through May 11, Stage Theatre, Denver Performing Arts Complex, 303-893-4100, Reviewed March 17.

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Juliet Wittman is an investigative reporter and critic with a passion for theater, literature, social justice and food. She has reviewed theater for Westword for over a decade; for many years, she also reviewed memoirs for the Washington Post. She has won several journalism awards and published essays and short stories in literary magazines. Her novel, Stocker's Kitchen, can be obtained at select local bookstores and on Amazon.
Contact: Juliet Wittman