theatre

“Dreamgirls” – Theater Review

/ Erica Hansen / Leave a comment

Every now and then, you get the opportunity to see a production of a musical that isn’t done very often – At least not in Salt Lake City. That’s the case with The Grand Theatre’s current production of “Dream Girls.” And heads up – this is its last weekend!

I don’t think I’ve seen Dream Girls on stage since 2013, (I had to look it up) when I wrote about it for the Deseret News. And that was the Broadway tour so none of the performers or musicians were local.

But that’s not the case with the Grand’s production. “Dream Girls” takes a lot of wonderfully talented Black performers and, as Latoya Cameron referenced in her director’s notes, most people thought that it couldn’t be done in little ‘ol SLC. But Cameron assembled a large cast – almost 25 performers – that proved otherwise. And, for a show about a music group, this show delivers in spades.

First up – KUDOS to the Grand for that fabulous live orchestra! What a treat to hear the Motown/soul/R&B sound with live musicians including a brass section. The moment the music started my heart pitter-pattered as I realized I was listening to a live in-person orchestra. Thank you, Grand Theatre.

“Dream Girls” is about the rise, of a girl group called The Dreamettes, or The Dreams, as they’d eventually be known, similar to The Supremes. It’s about their music, but it’s also about the people who help, or hinder, their success along the way and shines a spotlight on how we treat each other when our dreams are coming true, and when they’re not.

You can’t stage “Dream Girls” without finding some killer vocalists who can wail with the best of ’em and these gals do. Quesley Soto as Effie, Kandyce Marie as Deena, and Darby Mest as Lorrell, not only sell their solos, but their harmonies are terrific and, their friendship feels genuine. The men in the cast hold their own as well – Steven Taylor (Curtis), Kiirt Banks (James “Thunder” Early), Asher Head (C.C.) and Sean J. Carter (Marty). The large ensemble portray different people throughout the story and energetically bring the large group numbers to life.

Shannon McCullock’s costumes are so fun and colorful; taking us from the 1960s in Act I to the ’70s in Act II. Day clothes to concert dresses in bold patterns, shiny fabrics and numerous costumes changes. It was a treat. They also had a hefty amount of wigs for the large cast, designed by Erin McCullock.

Halee Rasmussen’s set design, took us from the Apollo Theater, to recording studios; small clubs to concert halls, with help by Drew Bielinski’s lighting design, and both were very effective.

AND, bonus points for having an actual playbill so I can read about the talented performers and creative team while I sip my coffee the next morning!

I walked out humming “One Night Only,” so did others. You have three nights only to catch this show before it closes – June 12, 13 and 14 https://www.tix.com/ticket-sales/grandtheatrecompany/7217?productionidlist=215786

CONTENT – The Grand has given it a rating of PG-13. There is some talk of having affairs and one performer playfully drops his pants, wearing boxers.

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.

Life of Pi – Theater Review

/ Erica Hansen / Leave a comment

It’s not very often one gets lost at sea on a Tuesday night while living in landlocked Utah.

But that’s exactly what happened at Eccles Theatre on opening night of the Broadway touring production of “Life of Pi.”

This is a visually stunning evening of theater.

“Life of Pi” about faith, survival and the power of a good story, is based on the best-selling novel by Yann Martel (stage adaptation by Lolita Chakrabarti). It opened on Broadway in 2023 and took home Tony Awards for Best Scenic Design, Best Lighting Design and Best Sound Design. All three were breathtaking.

Tim Hatley’s set serves as more of a blank canvas which brilliantly took us from the starkness of a hospital room in Mexico to fantastical voyage across the vast Pacific Ocean. And that is thanks to the lighting design by Tim Lutkin and Tim Deiling. Actually, I’m not sure I’ve seen anything like it.

This is one show where you want to sit in a mezzanine or balcony. They show relies heavily on projections onto the stage floor and I’m not sure those sitting in the orchestra got the full experience. We were glad to be sitting up higher where we could be fully immersed in the drama of the sea.

Lutkin’s lighting, creates shipwrecks and storms; dramatic sunsets and inviting sunrises; calm sea waters and beautiful starlit nights. The projections of water on the stage (Andrezj Goulding video and animations) swirl around the makeshift boat that carries Pi and Richard Parker, his ‘frenemy,’ for lack of a better word. We’ll get to him in a minute.

This is one of the things I love most about theater. Somewhere, on some random day, a bunch of brilliant creative minds came together and said ‘how can we bring this story to life? How can we get a young man and a tiger on a boat floating in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?’ ‘What if we make puppets, build amazing sets and do cool lighting!’

The magic of theatrical storytelling.

“Pi” uses beautiful puppetry throughout – everything from birds to orangutans, goats and zebras and yes, Richard Parker, a full grown, male Bengal tiger. These puppets require several puppeteers to skulk, rear, lunge and pounce – some of them doing all of that bent over at the waist the entire time. The movement around that boat for the puppeteers and for Taha Mandviwala, the actor playing Pi, is a 2+ hour workout and obstacle course. They all must go home needing a hot tub and a masseuse.

Mandviwala’s performance is quite captivating. And while the story is about Pi being lost at sea, he’s both alone and also never alone as he conjures memories and advice from his family and others throughout his journey.

Pi, much to the chagrin of his parents and religious leaders, explores many faiths including Hindu, Christianity, Islam and others, because he “wants to love God.” He relies on all of them during his ordeal.

It’s a beautiful show – a real feast for the senses – with a thought-provoking message of faith and belief.

The show runs about 2 hours and 15 minutes with one intermission.

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.