theater

Flowers for Mrs. Harris

/ Erica Hansen / Leave a comment

Man! I’ve been busy this summer.

Of course I thought about the time commitment when I started thinking about auditioning for a musical – you always think about the time commitment. What’s been tough is being a full-fledged adult with a full-time job in corporate America, a daughter who needs me less and less but is still someone I like to spend time with. And, of course, squeezing in a social life somewhere. It’s been tough.

But… “Flowers for Mrs. Harris” is a beautiful show!

My fellow cast mates and I were chatting just last night about how much we’re loving it, how special it is, how moving it is and how we love it more and more each time we spend time with Ada Harris and the people she impacts along the way.

Based on the book of the same name, “Flowers for Mrs. Harris” is not so much a song and dance musical, but more heartfelt storytelling set to music. The 2022 film, “Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris,” is based off the same book. While there are slight differences, the charm is the same.

This is the North American premiere of the musical, and I’m honored to be a part of that, during the inaugural season at The Ruth, the gorgeous new venue for Hale Center Theatre Orem.

While both casts are loaded with talent, I’m in the Tues/Thurs/Sat cast, performing those evenings at 7:30p as well as the following 4p matinees: Sept 20, Oct 4, Oct 18, Nov 1 and Nov 15.

Tickets are selling fast! I hope to see you there http://www.TheRuth.org

For ease, here is a complete list of my performance dates:

Sept 6 – 7:30
Sept 9 – 7:30
Sept 11 – 7:30p
Sept 13 – 7:30p
Sept 16 – 7:30p
Sept 18 – 7:30p
Sept 20 – 4p and 7:30p
Sept 23 – 7:30p
Sept 25 – 7:30p
Sept 27 – 7:30p
Sept 30 – 7:30p
Oct 2 – 7:30p
Oct 4 – 4p and 7:30p
Oct 7 – 7:30p
Oct 9 – 7:30p
Oct 11 – 7:30p
Oct 14 – 7:30p
Oct 16 – 7:30p
Oct 18 – 4p and 7:30p
Oct 21 – 7:30p
Oct 23 – 7:30p
Oct 25 – 7:30p
Oct 28 – 7:30p
Oct 30 – 7:30p
Nov 1 – 4p and 7:30p
Nov 4 – 7:30p
Nov 6 – 7:30p
Nov 8 – 7:30p
Nov 11 – 7:30p
Nov 13 – 7:30p
Nov 15 – 4p and 7:30p

For the Love of Theater

/ Erica Hansen / Leave a comment

Each time I leave New York City, I sit in the back of my ride to the airport watching the city roll by and wonder, ‘When will I get to come back? Will it be soon? What if I never do?’ Imagine my delight when I left the city in January, that the answer to that question was going to be “In May!”

Having just been there a few months prior, it was a bit of a fluke but I’m never one to say no to New York. I wandered around the Big Apple for a few days with nothing to do but eat pizza and hot dogs killing time until the start of my next show. I was able to catch five this time – “Dead Outlaw,” “Oh, Mary!,” “Death Becomes Her,” “Just In Time,” and “Operation Mincemeat” – I’ll get to my reviews on those when I have a moment. Add those to the Tony-eligible shows I saw in January (“Gypsy,” and “Maybe Happy Ending”) and it’s been a good year for this theater-lover.

My nephew heard me giving my recap to the family on Sunday and, with wide eyes, asked me slightly incredulously “How many shows have you seen Aunt Erica?!!?” sort of shaking his head while grabbing another cookie.

I answered him, “You know, I’ve wondered the same thing. If you take the shows I’ve seen on Broadway THEN add all the shows I see when I’m here at home – how many hours of my life have I sat inside a dark theater?” He wagered more time than I’ve spent sleeping. He might be right.

I’ve been trying to get to NYC as often as possible for years to see shows. Some years I do better than others. It’s a trek, it’s expensive and with all the other places I’ve yet to see in the world, should I keep going back?

But Broadway is Broadway and Broadway is only in New York (I know there’s a West End and other places to see world class theater, but that’s not Broadway).

Ideally, if you lived there, you could see a show and then process it for a week, let is sink in, live with the characters and the soundtrack before moving from one world to the next. But out-of-towners don’t have that luxury. So we stack ’em deep, seeing as many shows as possible in as little time as possible.

But why? Why spend so many precious New York minutes – or minutes of my life – sitting in a dark theater?

To feel.

My sis was chatting with me about the various shows and when I told her “Oh I bawled in that one,” she responded, “yeah but you cry in all of them so that’s not really an endorsement.”

I don’t cry in all of them.

But there are moments in all of them that will put me to various levels of tears in my eyes.

So I broke it down for her.

Sometimes I’m moved by the performance – the character singing their song with such beauty and/or power, and/or tenderness. (Jak Malone, Operation Mincemeat; Julia Knitel, Dead Outlaw; Jonathon Groff, Just In Time; Audra McDonald, Gypsy).

Sometimes I get moved by the story – by the empathy I’m feeling for this character at this moment (Hester Leggatt, Mincemeat; Elmer McCurdy, Dead Outlaw; Oliver, Maybe Happy Ending). This is one of the most beautiful things about theater: It gives us the opportunity to walk (or dance) in someone else’s shoes. This is how perspectives get changed. This is how we learn to see the world differently.

Sometimes, I’ll get moved by the brilliance of what’s unfolding. That somewhere, someone sat down with an idea one day, pulled out a notebook and started writing. That they pulled together a group of brilliant friends and collaborators and I’m sitting in a dark theater, watching their many collective hours and talents on extraordinary display. Whether that’s dense/meaty writing (Mincemeat); stunning costumes (Death Becomes Her); rich harmonies and orchestrations (Mincemeat; Just in Time); dazzling special effects (Death Becomes Her; Maybe Happy Ending); incredible set design (Maybe Happy Ending) or comedic absurdity (Oh, Mary!). Someone came up with that; someone created it. And it blows my mind. Every time.

Other times, if I know more of the back story of a show, I get moved by that – that a group of friends wanted to write a musical together so they did (Mincemeat). Or that this is based on a true story, this is someone’s life (Dead Outlaw; Just in Time; Mincemeat). That someone emailed themself an idea for a show and now it’s a play on Broadway (Oh, Mary!)

Sometimes I’m moved by all of the themes that run underneath the story – love and loss; becoming obsolete; mortality; grief (Maybe Happy Ending; Mincemeat; Gypsy).

And every now and then, you sit in a show that’s going to hit you with all of the above. Where the plot and character ride on the swells of beautiful orchestrations at the time the story makes me start to think about my own loss or something similar, and the performance is exquisite and…. I’m a mess. Probably not quite ugly-crying, but certainly something in the ‘please don’t turn the lights on right now, I’ll embarrass myself,’ realm.

I once heard someone describe their love of a show as “I loved it, it almost made me cry.” I’m just the opposite. I expect to tear up and some point about something. My gauge is “Hmm…. I liked it but it didn’t make me cry. I wasn’t moved by it.”

I like being moved. I like feeling and experiencing – I’m very anti-spoiler for that reason. I think it robs me of being able to fully experience what the creators intended.

All of that is to say, theater is a gift, and on Sunday, June 8, we celebrate the best on Broadway at the 78th Annual Tony Awards (CBS). I’ve printed my ballot, I know who I’m rooting for. I’m sure I’ll write a few thoughts after but for now, this is my love letter to theater, to Broadway and I’m extremely grateful I was able to experience so much of it this past year.

A Chorus Line – Theater Review

/ Erica Hansen / Leave a comment

There’s no people like show people. I realize I’m quoting a completely different musical (“Annie Get Your Gun,” for those of you playing along) but that’s exactly what I sat there thinking during “A Chorus Line,” running now through May 3 (you only have a few more chances) at West Valley Performing Arts Center.

“A Chorus Line” is an homage to show people. The people who are willing to give it their all – both physically and emotionally – eight shows a week. People willing to endure rejection, grueling auditions, aching bodies and bare souls. And they’re not just willing, they can’t think of anything they’d rather be doing. There really are no people like show people.

That’s what “A Chorus Line” is about – people trying to get work as dancers in the chorus of a Broadway show.

First a bit of background. “A Chorus Line” is based on the true life stories of Broadway dancers, or “gypsies.” In taped interview sessions with Michael Bennett, the show’s creator, these dancers shared their life stories – unhappy childhoods, questions about sexuality, adolescence, infidelity and aging. With 24 hours of footage, Bennett and his team crafted a series of vignettes and monologues and, coupled with the brilliant music Marvin Hamlisch, would go on to break every single box office record, making “A Chorus Line,” a verifiable hit. Not just at the box office, but critically too – winning the Tony Award (nine of ‘em, actually) and even the Pulitzer Prize for drama.

It’s a musical that is not produced locally very often, so I was intrigued. It’s also not a musical I’ve ever seen staged in-the-round, so I was extra intrigued and, walked away completely delighted.

First of all, the staging. Bravo! I was impressed with how well co-directors/choreographers Ben Roeling and Izzy Arrieta moved our dancers through the space; the audition line subtly moving with dancers facing in varied directions so we all had something or someone to look at. It worked so well that it made me feel more like a dancer participating in the audition, rather than a director hiding in the dark watching.

I’ve always asked people who are considering seeing “A Chorus Line” – do you know what it’s about? Many people think of dancers clad in sparkly gold costumes, doing a fabulous kickline and they assume the show much be a fantastic dance piece. Which usually isn’t really the case. But in this production, the in-the-round staging turned many of these monologues/solos into additional production numbers – what a treat!

The choreography was so fun to watch and the cast is full of great dancers. One quick aside, one of the things I’ve noticed about West Valley Arts productions is the variety of body types in their productions – it’s so refreshing to see. Major kudos.

Anne Puzey’s crisp musical direction solidified our chorus line – with every word enunciated and every harmony locked in. And Alicia Kondrick’s costumes perfectly captured a 70s flair with fun vintage finds like an old-school Kodak tank top and classic 70s sweatsuits and bell bottoms.

This is truly an ensemble piece and, together, they are completely in sync. I enjoyed each performance, each monologue and teared up numerous times at the stories being shared – knowing they’re someone’s real life experience. Then I get thinking about the actors I’m watching knowing they all have their own unique experiences and life happening and yet, there they were on a Saturday afternoon, putting on a show. A singular sensation indeed.

Content – I loved that WV Arts was committed to doing the real version of this show. Keep in mind it’s very much PG-13. These are adults who are discussing adult topics – gonorrhea, “tits and ass,” sexuality. Do not take your children thinking you’re going to see a fun dance show.

The only minus point from me is a lack of an actual playbill. I’m on a mission to bring back playbills as the digital versions are so uninviting, are often unaccessible inside the theater, and do not give the performers, the creative team nor the advertisers their due.

Bat Boy – Theater Review

/ Erica Hansen / Leave a comment

I sat with my teenage daughter waiting for “Bat Boy – The Musical” to begin trying to explain the origins of the show. I started giggling as I Googled the images of the bat child purportedly discovered in a cave in the woods of West Virginia. Bat Boy was frequent front page fodder on the tabloids, the Weekly World News in particular, during the early ’90s.

The creature, believe it or not, accomplished many incredible things including serving in Iraq. What a guy!

His heroics and status as a pop culture icon inspired a musical, which opened off-Broadway in 2001. “Bat Boy: The Musical,” is described as an ‘American horror rock musical,’ and I think that about sums it up. Think “Rocky Horror,” or “Little Shop of Horrors,” – I’m sensing a theme here.

Salt Lake Acting Company (SLAC) just opened the show 21 years after they did it the first time (I was chagrined to realized I was at that one too – my, how time flies). While the musical does not talk about Bat Boy’s sojourn in Iraq, it does depict the small town folks who discover him and the family who gentrifies him.

This is campy horror in all its glory – complete with shocking deaths, frantic townsfolk, lots of blood, romance, and bats. SLAC leans into all of the above.

SLAC’s cast is full of powerhouse talent – many local favorites and a few making their debuts. The cast of ten play 25+ characters through comical quick changes that sometimes happen on stage. It’s also impressive that in a show with so much going on, some of those characters, or caricatures, are just as memorable as the leads – (Timothy Feroah as Daisy was a crowd favorite, as was Justin Ravago as Mrs. Taylor).

Adrien Swenson is marvelous as Meredith Parker – she’s quiet, restrained and unassuming until she begins to unravel (unleash?) in Act II. Robert Scott Smith captures the broody, moody long-suffering town veterinarian.

As for the boy born with fangs in his mouth, Julian R. Decker crawls into the wings of Bat Boy – a role that’s as physically demanding as it is vocally. Plus, he’s got to do all that talking and singing with fake fangs, which would be a real challenge. Julian brought us a believable creature, with all those top notes and an inability to control his animal instinct.

From a content perspective, there are deaths in the show which SLAC handles with red fabric rather than stage blood, which I prefer. And there is a scene in Act II where the Greek God of nature sings a number blessing the ‘union’ of two characters. SLAC really leans into the sexualized nature of the scene so proceed with caution if you’re taking your teenage daughter (facepalm).

That said, if you’re into camp, you’ll love this production. It’s silly, and dark, and fun and disturbing all at the same time.

Also, bonus points for a physical playbill. And major bonus points for the live band under the direction of Alex Marshall.

The show is just over two hours with one intermission and runs through May 4.

A Case for Male Friendship – Theater Review

/ Erica Hansen / Leave a comment

In a previous life, I wrote for the Deseret News – one of two daily newspapers in Salt Lake City. I had the glorious privilege of being the theatre editor. For roughly four years, I got to see just about every single musical and play happening throughout Utah. I got to talk to the performers and creative teams; I got to take backstage tours; and I reviewed the shows.

I loved that job.

I love theater. I love watching other people figure out life at its most joyful and most complex. Sitting in a dark house with sometimes dozens, sometimes hundreds, sometimes thousands of my fellow man, having a moment that makes me weep, laugh and, most importantly, think differently. A ‘wow….. I can see what that must be like for this person.’ Theater is a magical art form that can entertain while at the same time enlighten and, dare I say, teach empathy?

I recently attended a performance of “A Case for the Existence of God,” the latest offering by Pioneer Theatre Company, playing now through April 12 at the beautiful Meldrum Theatre. I went into it knowing nothing about it – which is sometimes the best way to see a show.

The play opens with two men, one in a suit, the other in work boots, sitting in what looks to be a cubicle. We come to find out one man is a mortgage broker and the other is a workin’ man looking for help taking out a loan.

One thing I love about theater is figuring how what the construct is going to be. Are we having many lavish scene changes? Are we breaking the fourth wall? What imaginary world are we entering?

“The Case for the Existence of God” takes place entirely in the office, sort of. Through careful direction by Timothy Douglas and subtle light cues, designed by Yael Lubetzky, we start to learn that the men are in different locations – maybe a house or local playground. Actually for much of the play, the men don’t even stand up. They roll their office chairs to a new spot on the stage. They might take off a tie or remove a coat to help define the different space (costume and set design Lex Liang) but they mostly remain seated. Once you get used to the construct, it works well.

The actors take these two monstrous roles – they’re on stage the entire time – and bring such humanity and vulnerability to their characters. Jon Hudson Odom plays Keith, the mortgage broker who will go on to share stories of his childhood and fatherhood. Lee Osorio is Ryan, a worker in a yogurt plant struggling to make ends meet.

What is really happening in this play is a conversation. Real conversation. Adult conversation. The kind we wish we could have, the kind we try to avoid. This play has nothing to do with theology and everything to do with friendship at its purest and messiest – the complexities of trying to forge a new friendship as adults: finding a place to really be seen without judgement, and to be heard to the very depth of our frustrations and sorrows.

Both actors deliver fantastic performances – open, honest with a very palpable concern and caring for one another, while also capturing the awkwardness of trying to figure out adult male friendship.

I drove home thinking about the show and was struck by how sad it is that a story about genuine male friendship is so thought-provoking. If you had two women on that stage, you might not have much of a play. Which is a shame. As Timothy Douglas shared in his Director’s Note a quote from author Steve Maraboli: ‘Friends are medicine for a wounded heart, and vitamins for a hopeful soul.’

The show is about 90 minutes with no intermission.