THEATER REVIEW

Goblin Market

Steven Stanley

Take two of the most phenomenally talented performers on the L.A. theater scene, add a critically acclaimed director and a superb design team, and give them an exquisite but little known musical to bring to life, and you have Syzygy Theatre Group�s remarkable production of Polly Pen and Peggy Harmon�s Goblin Market.
Goblin Market is based on a mid-19th century poem by Christina Rossetti which, despite the author�s insistence that it was a children�s poem, became infamous for its remarkable (for that time) sexual imagery.
Lizzie and Laura are two Victorian-era sisters who every day hear the �goblin men� hawking their exotic fruits. Though Lizzie warns her against it, Laura succumbs to temptation and eats of the forbidden fruit. And then�
We first meet the two sisters as they revisit their childhood nursery, dressed in mourning. Amusing themselves with one of those memory games where each participant must add a new word to an increasingly long and difficult sentence, they soon remove each other�s outer garments down to their petticoats and bloomers, and begin to recall the events described above.
Lizzie is played by Jennifer Pennington, a gifted actress who can sing, and Laura by Tami Tappan Damiano, a gifted singer who can act. Each brings out the best of the other�s talents, allowing two of our finest performers to rise to new heights.
Goblin Market has been directed with vivid imagination by Martin Bedoian. One of its most memorable moments occurs when Laura opens a series of sparkly fruit, discovering various treasures in each�glitter, a rouge brush, a scarf� Bedoian has allowed/encouraged his actresses to delve into the sexual subtext of Rossetti�s poem, creating several dangerously erotic moments. At one point, a quite scary Damiano becomes a goblin herself, tempting Lizzie like a feral beast. Later, in an attempt to save Laura�s life, Lizzie makes Laura taste the juice of the forbidden fruits directly from her skin, and the effect on the audience is spellbinding.
Pennington has already been described by this reviewer as �a younger sexier Judy Dench� for her brilliant (and very British) performance in Tender. Here, in her own American voice, she reveals herself to be a fine singer as well. It is a pleasure to watch Pennington as she reveals the many layers which Lizzie hides under her primly starched exterior. Damiano (The Wild Party, The Full Monty), a local musical theater treasure with Broadway starring credits, clearly relishes shedding her girl-next-door persona in an emotional tour de force of a performance. Pennington the singer more than holds her own against Damiano, and Damiano the actress more than holds her own against Pennington.
Goblin Market benefits immensely from a superb design team. Jason Z. Cohen�s attic nursery, which has the requisite doll house, toy chests, music box, and rocking chair comes magically to life when Dave Mickey�s lighting reveal the walls to be see-through, and a red and green lit jungle of a woodland glen appears behind them at night. Mickey is also responsible for the fine sound design, and Sherry Linnell has fashioned prim and proper Victorian dresses and undergarments for the two sisters.
Pen and Harmon�s book and lyrics seamlessly combine lines from the poem, as well as words of their own inspiration. Pen�s music manages to be lovely and strangely discordant at once, which works well for this modern look at a more romantic era. Her melodies are brought to life by an exquisite four-piece ensemble directed by Philip White.
At 70 minutes, Goblin Market is a small and delicate miracle of a musical play. Though not for audiences for which bigger must be better, it is most definitely a production to enchant and engross those in search of more challenging fare. Hopefully, it will find an enthusiastic audience during its stay in Burbank.

THEATER REVIEW

Goblin Market

F. Kathleen Foley

Arguably, Rossetti was unaware of the erotic undercurrents in her children's classic or of its arresting parallels to drug addiction. Yet for all its interpretations, "Goblin Market" works best as a dark-hued fairy tale, simply told. First produced in the mid-1980s, the musical adaptation, which features music by Polly Pen and book by Pen and Peggy Harmon, is an elegant recapitulation that succeeds as a chilling fable and as a homage to sororal devotion.

Director Martin Bedoian lets the story speak for itself in his stylish, straightforward staging at the Grove Theater Center Burbank. Much about the production is optimal, particularly Jason Z. Cohen's striking scenic design and Dave Mickey's superlative lighting and sound.

Optimal also is Tami Tappan Damiano's pitch-perfect performance as Laura, the errant sister who strays from the path of Victorian propriety with near-fatal results. Jennifer Pennington brings considerable empathy to her portrayal of Lizzie, Laura's savior sister, but lacks the vocal ability that would put her on a par with Damiano. Under the musical direction of Philip White, Pennington manages her harmonies nicely but is missing the operatic range required in certain solos � a deficit that, although not disastrous, is persistently problematic.

THEATER REVIEW

Goblin Market

September 26, 2007

By Dink O'Neal

This strangely endearing one-act musical, adapted from a poem by Christina Rossetti, is like the proverbial onion: One discovers deeper and often more disturbing implications with each subsequent layer. Two Victorian-era sisters enter the musty attic of their family home. Over the next 75 minutes, they traverse time and space, revealing through poetry and song a host of disturbing demons. Their relationship, so clearly defined and completely believable, is gripping as we witness their collective struggle.

Kudos certainly must go to director Martin Bedoian. His efforts are anchored by a pair of veteran performers who plumb the depths of this evocative material. Tami Tappan Damiano, as the younger sister, Laura, is impetuous and bubbly, bringing to life her character's blossoming, often white-hot sexuality. So, too, she masterfully embodies Laura's inability to withstand the enticing overtures of the Goblin Men. Purveyors of fruit -- or is it sensuality they sell? -- their siren calls lead to Laura's terrifying loss of innocence.

Jennifer Pennington provides a perfect counterpoint as the elder sister, Lizzie. Though her character appears guarded and strong, Pennington skillfully displays a range of talent by deftly avoiding the easy choice of frigidity. Instead she is protective and nurturing. In the end, having withstood temptation, Lizzie's determination allows both siblings to progress into adulthood. These are riveting performances to be sure.

Bedoian's production team is equally first-rate. Scenic designer Jason Z. Cohen's multileveled set allows for ease of movement throughout the play. It includes scrimmed walls that, courtesy of Dave Mickey's striking illumination, reveal the upstage forest that haunts the girls' memories. Costumer Sherry Linnell has wardrobed both women completely in black as though they have returned from a funeral. Shedding these formal vestiges to reveal traditional period undergarments frees them to cavort through Mecca Vazie Andrews' charmingly appropriate choreography. Philip White provides expert music direction, especially given the show's unorthodox style. Damiano and Pennington, supported by a piano and string ensemble, demonstrate their expertise in delivering the haunting melodies and complex harmonies with clarity and ease.

THEATER REVIEW

Heads

Reviewed By: Terri Roberts

Well, my head still hurts from the world premiere production of Heads, and I hold the Blank Theatre personally responsible for the pain. I also blame playwright EM Lewis, director Darin Anthony, and actors Jeremy Gabriel, J. Richey Nash, James Eckhouse, and Beth Broderick for forcing upon me an hour and a half of torture. Of course, my emotional (and occasionally physical) discomfort was their clear intention, so one must rise above the headache to admire the group's level of success in inflicting it. Set in 2004 Iraq, Heads takes us into the fear-filled world of psychological torture: the head games employed -- and enjoyed -- by ruthless terrorists in pursuit of cowing the world to their vision of what it should be. The focus is entirely on four victims, all of whom have been brutally kidnapped and thrown into a pair of tiny dank cells in an old Iraqi warehouse. (The appropriately claustrophobic set design is by Dan Jenkins.)

In one cell are Jack (Gabriel), a wild spirit freelance photojournalist with the attention span of a gnat, and Michael (Nash), a handsome network reporter who is rather unseasoned when it comes to this level of news coverage. Jack has been in Iraq for a couple of years; Michael just a couple of weeks. In another cell, terrorists throw in British Embassy worker Caroline (Broderick), her hands and feet bound with duct tape, and her mouth covered as well. Her cell mate is Harold (Eckhouse), an engineer who builds bridges. Harold's name is familiar to Caroline; he had been in the news since his capture six months ago, and a video of him had recently been released by his captors.

Lewis' intermissionless piece covers several weeks of the prisoners' incarceration, and focuses on where the head itself -- and the heart's response to the head -- take people when faced with such a desperate situation. Jack is a self-motivated guy, willing to try anything to escape, and he actually finds a possible means of escape. The terrified Michael believes they'll be killed in the attempt, and tries to convince Jack not to take the risk. But when he and Harold are dragged from their cells; forced, at gunpoint, to make another video; and threatened with an extremely nasty death, he finally agrees to take action.

Harold and Caroline have a different kind of emotional response -- reaching out to each other for comfort. Having been a prisoner already for months, Harold teaches Caroline what to say and do to stay as safe as possible. And it works for awhile, until the inevitable finally happens.

Anthony keeps the tension high and allows spots of humor to break it for a bare breath of a moment. Media designer Rick Baumgartner created the entirely disturbing video sequences, and Dave Mickey's creepy sound design and John Eckert's stark lighting are chillingly effective.

Anthony also elicits fine performances from his cast -- particularly from Gabriel's Jack, whose desperation and smart-ass attitude naturally makes him a more colorful figure. Gabriel is well up to the challenge, keeping Jack human and relatable in spite of his abrasiveness. Nash provides a strong balance in the more stable-minded Michael, but also capably conveys his terror as their situation grows more dire. Broderick and Eckhouse are able to give us a bit of the softer side, and demonstrate how sometimes a comforting word or embrace is all that can keep you from slipping completely into insanity.

Lewis' script, while somewhat predictable in places, nevertheless takes the audience to a dangerous place that most will never experience, but of which they need to be made aware. Unimaginable torture is happening in the world, in real life. And for the victim, sometimes the worse torture is the not knowing what will happen, and the dark places the head can take you when knowledge and freedom are withheld.

THEATER ARTICLE

A look at sex, family dysfunction

by Eric Marchese, Orange County Register

February 10, 2006

Dysfunction with a nuclear family, domestic violence and the pervasiveness of sexuality in mainstream culture may appear strange bedfellows for a play, but Paula Vogel has made a career of finding the often-bitter humor in subjects most would deem deadly earnest. That makes the potent, provocative "Hot 'N' Throbbing" par for the course for the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright.

Sure, Vogel dishes out laughs in her comedic drama - but each laugh is followed by the bitter recognition of hard truths about an unforgiving world.

The 1992 play's Orange County premiere has been a long time in coming, so it's nice to report that the Chance Theater's Evolving Stage production surpasses the script's challenges. The utmost of these forces us to see that the force of sex as part of society's fabric has become a double-edged sword - a liberating factor on one hand, a red flag for physical and psychological risks on the other.

Charlene Dwyer (Karen Webster) and Clyde (Warren Draper) are divorced. Charlene is now the breadwinner, writing erotic screenplays for women to support herself and her two children. Clyde can barely accept that his ex-wife doesn't need him, even while his physical abuse and alcoholism are what drove her away.

Their teen kids' hormones are in overdrive. Leslie Ann (Cheryl Texiera) is a daddy's girl who drowns her sorrows in beer while wearing the most revealing clothing she can get away with. Calvin (Casey Long) is a sullen, uptight A-student who gratifies himself sexually with the help of a catcher's mitt.

Dry of new ideas and struggling to meet a deadline, Charlene begins to hear the characters in her imagination (portrayed by Dimas Diaz and Alex Bueno). The two personas - one male, one female - act out Charlene's lurid sadomasochistic fantasies and fill her with creativity, yet they also distract her and break her focus. A bizarre, sexually charged Greek chorus, the pair roam the stage, mirroring and often mocking the words and actions of all four members of the family.

The dialogue of the Diaz and Bueno personas mirrors that of the Dwyers, and vice versa, creating a powerful resonance. As in "How I Learned to Drive," Vogel shows that two key ingredients within families - an utter disregard for boundaries and a lack of unselfish love - lead to dysfunction.

In "Hot," they also lead to sexual pathologies. Vogel makes Charlene's favorite novel, "Moby Dick," a centerpiece of the play, with its theme of obsession (and a title with an obscene double meaning). The Melville classic is referred to as "a Freudian tragedy," a description equally apt for "Hot 'N' Throbbing": The play's inevitably explosive climax is followed by a coda that resonates with tragic irony.

Director Magdalena Zira's staging is aptly tight, edgy and just a little bit kinky, the better with which to drive home the script's points. John Robinson's inventive scenic design allows the real and imaginary worlds of Vogel's text to mesh easily, while Jon Langrell's shifting lighting scheme and Dave Mickey's pulsing sound effects undergird the script's tension.

Webster's Charlene is a study in frustration, a woman desperate yet unable to be a positive force in her children's lives. She clings to her work, which she defends as "adult entertainment," as her only connection with sanity even while harboring nagging self-doubts about her creative skills and her willpower in keeping Clyde at bay.

Draper's Clyde is a surprisingly likable ne'er-do-well, alternately needy and abusive. Draper not only makes the character's love of booze and low regard for women seem almost a casual afterthought, he also lends Clyde pathos, modulating the level of his brutality. Clyde may regard Leslie Ann's prematurely adult behavior as normal, but around his ex-wife and son he has a hair-trigger temper.

With shaggy hair, thick eyeglasses and slumping shoulders (and self-confidence), Long's Calvin is a portrait of repression too tightly wound even for Mom's liking. Texiera reveals Leslie Ann's flirty sluttiness as a fa�ade: She'd love nothing better than for Clyde to quit drinking, get a job and patch things up with Mom, and her anger at being the product of a broken home is explosive.

Bueno lends a kittenish, sensual presence to the show, her persona an impish minx whose words and movements mock the feminine self-reliance Charlene supposedly champions. Diaz is the Bueno persona's male counterpart - tough, gritty, sadistic and, like her, unquenchably randy. Costumed by Rachel Stivers in black, with red highlights, the pair bring a sizzling carnal energy to the staging.

Freelance writer Eric Marchese has covered entertainment for the Register since 1984.

THEATER REVIEW

One Flea Spare
by Shirle Gottlieb, Back Stage West

June 1, 2005

During the summer of 1665, London was exceedingly hot. Human waste in the streets attracted rats, which carried fleas that infected the populace. Not knowing the cause of Black Death or how to protect themselves from this dreaded disease, people were overcome by ignorance and superstition. Panic swept through the city, the rich fled to the country, authority broke down, and families with symptoms were locked inside their homes by ragtag ruffians who guarded the doors.

Influenced by this terrifying period of history, Naomi Wallace wrote a powerful allegory that has received numerous prestigious awards since 1996. Its title comes from John Donne's poem about a couple whose blood is commingled after a fleabite. But Wallace's drama is not about dying; it's about love and survival—about searching for answers while grappling with the wide array of factors that plague contemporary culture. In the tradition of Orwell, Brecht, and Miller, the story is set in another time while addressing the present. Patricia L. Terry understands this full well. Under her tightfisted, fast-paced direction, the five-member ensemble delivers its lines on both levels.

The social, religious, political, and health issues that beset Europe four centuries ago may be different, but cataclysms (AIDS, biological warfare, nuclear holocaust) still plague us. The action takes place in the boarded-up home of arrogant Lord Snelgrave (Sean Hannaway) and his obedient, browbeaten wife (Heather Howe). Just as their quarantine is about to be lifted, a runaway sailor and mysterious young girl break into their mansion seeking shelter. Joshua Jones is outstanding as Bunce, the tough lower-class seaman who knows a lot about survival. Echoing his performance is Alex Bueno, who excels as the adolescent who may not be who she says she is. When Kabe, the cunning guard, discovers new people inside the home, he extends the quarantine for another grueling month. Warren Draper provides strong comic relief as this illiterate, cold-hearted fool who revels in newfound power. How these disparate characters manage to survive unfolds in lyrical language and an explicit sexual subtext. This production deserves a wide audience, and it features lovely sound by Dave Mickey, lighting by Adam H. Greene, and costumes by Alia Amaya.

"One Flea Spare," presented by the Chance Theater Repertory Company at the Chance Theater, 5552 E. La Palma Ave., Anaheim. Sat. 4 p.m., Sun. 6 p.m. May 21-Jun. 12. $17-35. (714) 777-3033.

THEATER REVIEW

FIG: R.O. (retro opera)
by Melinda Schupmann, Back Stage West

June 1, 2005

In undertaking a production that intentionally changes a standard artistic work, a little bit of chutzpah and a lot of conviction are necessary for directors and cast to make it succeed. In this case, five people take credit for the 100-minute adaptation of Beaumarchais' play and Mozart's classic opera sequel to The Barber of Seville: Robert G. Leigh (director-adaptor), Heather Howe (adaptor), Dean Anderson (musical director-musical adaptor), Miriam Ellis (libretto translator), and Sherwood Dudley (libretto translator). Add 10 cast members to the mix, and you have a lot of talent energizing this ambitious production.

One night at an Italian restaurant, a group of people converge, drawing names out of a hat that identify the characters they will portray. Initially speaking in Italian but quickly switching to English, the cast members set about making a sensible and cleverly abbreviated story out of this farce, filled with disguises, naughty innuendo, and complicated tricks. Although they are clearly determined to treat the work with integrity, they have a wonderful time injecting audience-pleasing humor and heartfelt emotion into the wonderful choruses and arias performed.

The women are vocally strong. As the Countess Almaviva, Lisa C. Zaradich admirably balances coquetry and warmth, while her co-conspirator, Susanna (Clarissa Barton), is saucy and flirtatious. Sarah Moreau acquits herself well as the beleaguered Cherubino, and Clare V. Solly delivers a standout performance as Marcellina, a woman who understands her untenable situation too clearly. Though several of the male performances are uneven, the actors provide energy and enthusiasm to their respective roles. Michael Irish is a passionately mercurial Count Almaviva. One notable scene in which Figaro (Casey Long) plays puppet master to Irish's marionette is a marvelous bit of agility. Long is bawdy and endearing as he tries to manipulate situations to his advantage. Bryan Barton (Bartolo), Jeff Hellebrand (Basilio), and Anderson (Don Curzio) enhance the complicated machinations.

Steve Grodt's set, Adam H. Greene's lighting design, Dave Mickey's skillful sound, and Alia Amaya's costumes contribute to the retro feel. There is much to admire in this abridgement, most notably the sense of dedication exhibited by the company in tackling this work and its solid unity as an ensemble.

"FIG: R.O. (retro opera)," presented by the Chance Theater Repertory Company at the Chance Theater, 5552 E. La Palma Ave., Anaheim. Thu.-Sat. 8 p.m., Sun. 2 p.m. May 12-Jun. 12. $22-40. (714) 777-3033.