August 31, 2011 | in Rogue's Gallery Last night, I had a dream. I dreamed that my smartphone broke into two pieces.
I could never have dreamed what actually transpired at the 2011 Wilde Awards.
August 25, 2011 | in Rogue business With its third comedy in as many months, the Blackbird Theatre’s Shakespeare West festival now bends Twelfth Night to its counterculture will. The show’s carefree decadence nestles intriguingly into the perspective of free love and rollicking social change, but palpable rough edges and pitfalls keep the story from reaching far-out heights. The drawbacks are most likely suggestive of time constraints on the part of director Barton Bund and company, a reminder that the young festival’s learning curve remains steep.
Disparity reigns in the play’s several plots, bridged by common characters but not often intersecting; the cast of twelve appears in small groups of limited permutation. Playing hub to these many spokes is Viola (Diviin Huff), washed ashore alone on the island of Illyria and forced to pass as a man out of self preservation. As “Cesario,” Viola enters the service of the duke Orsino (Sean Sabo) and is sent on his behalf to court the countess Olivia (Marisa Dluge); thanks to the gender reversal, the three form a perfect unrequited-love triangle. Huff’s intelligent and able Viola is a likable protagonist; opposite her, Sabo’s best work is not as a lover, but as a uncomprehending, patronizing confidante, and indulgent Dluge’s amazement at her own infatuation is quite fun. Olivia is also sought after by her humorlessly aspirational servant Malvolio (Bund), who becomes the target of a team of perpetually wasted ne’er-do-wells — Dan Johnson, Danny Friedland, and Qmara Peaches Black join forces in revelry to form a riotous peanut gallery. Elsewhere, Viola’s twin brother is less dead than his sister believes (and vice versa); he’s also markedly less identical than the plot requires.
August 23, 2011 | in Reviews | as Blackbird Theatre, Shakespeare, West Park, festival/seasonal productions Even with a decade of experience behind it, a show at the Abreact remains an encounter unlike any other. This season’s landmark tenth anniversary marked the theater’s second year at a new location, as always in the heart of Detroit, but nobody would mistake the shift as a step toward the mainstream. Now, patrons are buzzed into the Lafayette Lofts building only to discover that the theater space actually spans two apartments: one a black-box studio whose seating is peppered with accumulated armchairs and couches, the other a small lobby, stocked with liquid refreshments, that doubles as a private residence. And just as the company invites viewers into its figurative and literal home, with a characteristic blend of offbeat modern classics, obscure titles, and new works, this season it invited viewers into its many worlds for as close a look as they could stand.