Anthony B. Cohen and Karl Schott are waiting for Godot.

By Vicki Paris Goodman
Culture Writer

There was a time when, upon seeing Waiting for Godot, I would have been awed by the cryptic nature of the play. I guess I was once duly impressed with what I didn’t understand. As if to say, if I don’t “get it,” it must be awesome.
Well, I don’t quite go there anymore. And, unlike some other productions of the play, the Long Beach Playhouse’s Godotmakes no attempt to take the audience in any particular interpretive direction. The blank-slate concept is freeing, on the one hand. But it can also leave one begging for a little guidance.
In any event, Samuel Beckett’s highly venerated play fares well in the hands of director Carl daSilva and his five-member cast. They are, in a word, outstanding. They are funny and tragic, sometimes moving abruptly from one to the other on a dime. That’s appropriate, I think, for what has been portrayed as an allegorical “tragicomedy.”
The play has also been described as “absurdist,” and it is certainly that.
In Waiting for Godot, Vladimir (Anthony B. Cohen) and Estragon (Karl Schott) wait in a nondescript setting characterized only by the presence of a single tree and some crudely defined uneven landscape. Andrew Vonderschmitt’s spare, stylized set design perfectly evokes the surreal nature of the play.
The two men are waiting for a character named Godot, with whom they appear to be barely acquainted. The play spans two days, during which the promised appearance never materializes.
In the meantime, “Di Di” and “Go Go” (Vladimir and Estragon) conjure up various trivial activities with which to pass the time. They talk, eat, sing, dance, complain, argue, get angry, make up, tease each other, and contemplate suicide. They also receive a bizarre visit from what appears to be slave owner Pozzo (Steven Biggs) and his servant Lucky (Kyle Bryan Hall), as well as a local boy (Terren Mueller) who reports on the intentions of Godot. Beckett’s choice of names is particularly puzzling. Remember, though, the play is meant to be absurd.
Furthermore, when we consider the nature of the dependency between Di Di and Go Go, and the entirely different dependency between Pozzo and Lucky, a pattern seems to emerge. And sure enough, I later found an online reference to Beckett having stated that the play was all about symbiosis. Well, now we’re getting somewhere…I think.
I noticed something else, as well. There were several instances in which the dialogue referred to one character’s loss being another’s gain. Or in one segment, a character gave his hat to another. The character who gave up the hat became profoundly weak, almost dead. He who had received the hat gained an almost invincible strength. Apart from his commentary on interpersonal dependency, was Beckett promoting the notion that life is some sort of zero-sum game? Are there political overtones in the play? Are there religious ones, suggesting that the men are waiting, not for a man named Godot, but, for God?
I only indulge in conjecture here to point out some possibilities among many.
Waiting for Godot is not for the theater-goer who merely wishes to be entertained. And it is not for the one who can’t be bothered with the loosely defined. The play requires patience and the bearing of a good bit of “auditory annoyance.” (Pozzo screams at Lucky a lot.) So if you like to figure out the undecipherable, Beckett’s rather self-indulgent stream-of-consciousness play (or work of genius– take your pick) may be for you. You certainly couldn’t ask for a better-executed production.
Waiting for Godot continues in the Long Beach Playhouse Studio Theatre through May 7. General admission tickets are $22; $20 for seniors. Student tickets are $12 with valid student ID. Performances are Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8pm, and Sundays at 2pm. The Long Beach Playhouse is located at 5021 E. Anaheim St. Call (562) 494-1014 for reservations and information. Tickets are also available online at lbplayhouse.org.

Granville Van Dusen and Michael Learned in the uncomplicated but effective Southern Comforts

By Vicki Paris Goodman
Culture Writer

Sappy? A little. Predictable? To a great extent. Simplistic? That, too.
All of the above describe Southern Comforts, a play depicting the romance between two 70-somethings who steal our hearts as well each other’s. It just goes to show that an uncomplicated, even conventional, love story can still win over an audience.
Playwright Kathleen Clark asks far more of the play’s two actors than she asks of its audience. We get to sit back and enjoy a play that doesn’t require much thought or emotional discomfort. On the other hand, actress Michael Learned (yes, of Waltons fame) and fellow veteran actor Granville Van Dusen wield a deceptively tricky script.
With such a sparsely populated cast, straightforward dialogue, and no distractions, timing and expression receive all of our attention. The seasoned duo of Learned and Van Dusen never miss a beat and don’t disappoint. As such, director Jules Aaron may have had an easier task with this production than most others.
In Southern Comforts, Tennessee widow Amanda (Learned) is visiting her married daughter and grandchildren in a New Jersey town. She calls on Gus (Van Dusen), himself a widower, while seeking donations for the local church. That’s the simple truth of the plot. See what I mean?
At Gus’s place, one comment leads to another, which leads to a conversation, which leads to the two finding out they both love baseball, and it goes on from there.
Once committed to a relationship, Amanda and Gus, who are both set in their ways (nothing unusual here), squabble over everything from household clutter to whether each should be buried next to the deceased spouse or each other. All the while, personality clashes and past marital disappointments muddy the waters. But it’s all real, even universally so. And that is why this down-to-earth, unsurprising, even unsophisticated play succeeds so well. We can all see ourselves, or someone we know, in these characters. And Learned and Van Dusen, through their masterful and easy performances, merely bring it all home.
Oh, one could pick over the rather abrupt change in tone during the second act. One might even object to the fact that Amanda is quite a bit more likable than Gus, and wonder what she sees in him. But that would make light of the surprising degree to which the play holds our attention start to finish.
Southern Comforts is honest and good-natured– an immensely satisfying evening of theater.
Southern Comforts continues at International City Theatre through April 10. Tickets are $44 for Friday and Saturday evening performances and for Sunday matinees; tickets are $37 for Thursday evening performances. Evening performances are at 8pm; Sunday matinees are at 2pm. ICT is located in the Long Beach Performing Arts Center at 300 East Ocean Blvd. Call (562) 436-4610 for reservations and information. Tickets are also available online at InternationalCityTheatre.org.

Crystal Hoskins as Ginette and Jeff Cheezum as Pete in Long Beach Playhouse’s Almost, Maine

By Vicki Paris Goodman
Culture Writer

The dozen or so vignettes included in Almost, Maine possess a common thread. Each begins with an unsettling, even bizarre, human predicament and resolves in a lightly comical tug at the heartstrings. Notwithstanding the annoying repetition inherent in each segment’s opening dialogue, it is amazing how quickly playwright John Cariani convinces us to buy in, but only if we are hopeless romantics like him. If not, we might tire of the simplicity and want something more or something else.
To this extent, Almost, Maine probably has limited appeal. After all, how can a writer sufficiently develop two or three characters, establish a viable story line, and appeal to our emotions in eight or ten minutes– the length of one of Cariani’s oddly romantic segments? The answer is that he can’t. Instead Cariani cuts to the chase and focuses like a laser beam on the circumstance at hand, abandoning the usual background information that would otherwise inform the audience on complexities of character and surroundings. And somehow it all works. At least, it did for me.
Think allegorical simplicity and you’ll start to see what I mean. Cariani’s are composite characters in a symbolic town. They are characterized by an almost childlike unsophistication but display adult wants and needs. In a nutshell, they possess universal hopes and dreams. They want to love and be loved.
In surreal, almost O. Henry-like twists on reality, six actors play nineteen different characters who, more than anything else, help each other through acts of kindness. Awkward romantic encounters expose human fallibility that sometimes borders on the ridiculous. But in every case, director Phyllis Gitlin and her perceptive cast cut deep and successfully project the emotion that becomes ours, as well.
Cariani’s characters have consciences, an attribute which goes a long way toward making us care for them, even given the paltry few minutes we are given to get to know them. On the eve of her wedding to another man, a woman finds a way to let her ex-boyfriend down easy. Out of a desire to make amends, a woman travels a good distance to answer a long forgotten marriage proposal to which she never said yes or no. A man unable to feel physical pain has his senses awakened in a chance encounter with a neighbor lady who would rather not take the time. A man who blows his chances for love out of sheer ineptitude gets a second chance when things literally and figuratively come full circle. Those are just a few.
Cariani masterfully manipulates our emotions throughout his unusual play. He stirs us up with a few opening lines of irritating dialogue, perhaps intending to maximize the swing of emotion when we are charmed and moved by his quirky turns of fate and human redemption.
I found Almost, Maine most uplifting.
Almost, Maine continues on the Long Beach Playhouse Mainstage through April 16. General admission tickets are $22; $20 for seniors. Student tickets are $12 with valid student ID. Performances are Fridays and Saturdays at 8pm, with Sunday matinees at 2pm. The Long Beach Playhouse is located at 5021 E. Anaheim St. Call (562) 494-1014 for reservations and information. Tickets are also available online at lbplayhouse.org.

Choosing a sushi roll at Suba is not easy since the list of “signature” creations is extensive and awe-inspiring.

By Vicki Paris Goodman
Culture Writer

There is something so inviting about Suba, the hip new sushi and tapas restaurant in Bixby Knolls. Maybe it’s the friendly greeting you receive on entering, or the trendy décor that is distinctly casual at the same time. Or perhaps it’s seeing your neighbors gathered at tables munching on creative sushi rolls and empanadas. Even the fun wall art seems to beckon. And certainly the smiles and easy chit-chat from the sushi chefs hint at accessibility and seem to say, “We’re glad you’re here.”
After admiring the prominent sushi bar and the wall of wines strikingly backlit in neon magenta, we decided on a table under one of the big-screen TVs that was tuned to the basketball game. Sound was either off or low; there was no distraction. We were also pleased to find that, although there were quite a few other diners, the ambient noise level permitted easy conversation.
Now I’ve always been a little leery of fusion restaurants. When an establishment claims to do more than one cuisine well, I fear mediocrity on all counts. In the case of Suba, however, such apprehension is definitely not warranted. Everything we ordered was fabulous.
To start, our server, Melina, offered us tastes of the restaurant’s homemade sangria. Suba’s version is lush and fruity with just a touch of sweetness. We had to have more. I’m ashamed to admit I even used my fork to finish off the bits of wine-marinated fruit that had floated merrily in the drink. (And I would do it again!)
Choosing a sushi roll was not easy, as the list of Suba “signature” creations was extensive and awe-inspiring. But choose we did, and the verdict was “The Bixby,” an ample spicy tuna roll topped with a slice of halibut and a dab of spicy mayo. What made this roll pop was a sliver of fresh lemon tucked under the halibut. Fantastic.
Neighbors Karen Weiss and Laura Sanders stopped by our table to say hello. They were raving about the sushi roll they’d just devoured– “The Closer”– an eclectic creation of shrimp tempura, crab, eel, avocado, cream cheese, and eel sauce. We inquired as to the bottom line and were told: “It was the best roll I’ve ever had.” High praise indeed.
After enjoying the Aguacata Y Camaron (avocado and shrimp), a tapas of large grilled shrimp atop a bed of guacamole and red salsa served with French bread slices, we moved on to the Empanada de Res. Wow, was it delish! Two large piping hot savory pastry turnovers filled with perfectly seasoned ground beef, the empanadas were a hit.
But the best thing of all was the Datilas con Cabrales– a tapas plate of whole dates stuffed with Cabrales blue cheese and a whole almond, all wrapped in bacon. OMG. The sweetness of the date, pungency of the cheese, crunch of the almond, and savory salty goodness of the Applewood smoked bacon were almost more than mere earthlings deserve.
And we barely scratched the surface of Suba’s abundant offerings. The menu could easily cover ten visits without the two of us ordering the same thing twice. (Although, I can’t imagine a meal at Suba without those stuffed dates!)
Apart from tapas, sushi, sashimi, and the various sushi rolls, both standard offering and “signature,” Suba offers not one but six– yes, six!– varieties of ceviche made out of ahi tuna, scallops, shrimp, lobster, and salmon. Can’t wait to try those.
There are also a few “large plate” items, for instance, the Paella Suba containing pretty much everything but the kitchen sink, as well as the Spanish-style Toro Burger and the Pasta Con Queso, an intriguing version of macaroni and cheese.
Alas, it will all have to wait for a future visit, which will likely occur sooner, not later. Something to look forward to!
Suba Sushi & Tapas Lounge, located at 3550 Long Beach Blvd. in Bixby Knolls, can be reached at (562) 595-1959. Beer and an extensive list of wines are available. Restaurant hours are Tuesday–Sunday, noon–10pm. Closed Monday. (Starting April 3, Suba will be closed Sundays and open Mondays). Special $7.95 lunch menu available weekdays. Happy-hour food and beverage specials offered 4pm to 7pm weekdays, noon to 4pm Saturdays and Sundays.

More Information
subasushi.com

Jenn Aedo and Terra C. Macleod in Musical Theatre West’s Cats.

By Vicki Paris Goodman
Culture Writer

Cats is a show that’s been around a long time now. And audiences have either loved it for its ingenious choreography that transforms humans into virtual feline impersonators, or they have wondered what all the fuss is about.
Personally, I’ve always liked the show for its uniqueness and its dramatic, if a bit simplistic and sappy, story line. I’m a sucker for anything that tugs at the heartstrings.
To create Cats, composer Andrew Lloyd Webber basically took the poems from t.s. eliot’s (sic) Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats and set them to music. Webber and lyricist Trevor Nunn wrote an additional original song for the show– that memorable chart-topper “Memory.” With lots of added choreography, they had a Broadway show that became one of the biggest hits of all time.
Within the various musical numbers, the show’s roster of cats is introduced by the distinctive names given each cat by the poet. Names like Rum Tum Tugger, Bustopher Jones, Mr. Mistoffelees, Rumpleteazer, and Macavity are a few goodies. Of course, each cat has its story, and I suppose we can’t help picking our favorites. As for me, I’m partial to Jennieanydots, the pleasantly plump and lazy but sweet-tempered “gumby cat” who sits and sits and sits and sits…
The show establishes a kind of pecking order, with the venerable Old Deuteronomy as top cat. On the magical night of the “jellicle” (eliot’s term for anything kitty cat) ball, Old Deuteronomy will choose the elderly cat– a feline prom queen, of sorts– honored as the designee who will be sent that night to the heavyside layer (kitty heaven, I’ve always assumed).
If the chosen one has succeeded in melting our hearts, or at least appealing to our sympathy, this moment in the show can be the satisfying payoff it is meant to be. This production gets us most of the way there. If only director/choreographer Dana Solimando had directed the actor to emphasize dynamics and emotion rather than pop vocal timbre in singing the climactic number, the effect might have been a home run.
Musical Theatre West’s production confines the show almost exclusively to the stage, which is further separated from the audience by the orchestra pit. It’s a shame the production team didn’t create greater cast-to-audience connection, as the show would certainly benefit.
Lyrics that were almost impossible to discern were a greater problem in the first half than the second. This is one show where the audience needs to hear the words being sung.
Still, there’s lots to like about Musical Theatre West’s Cats. The feline movement of the 22 cast members is something to behold. Costumes will wow you. An excellent live orchestra performs Webber’s outstanding score throughout the performance. And the quality of the dancing and singing are all first rate.
Musical Theatre West’s production of Cats continues at the Carpenter Performing Arts Center, located on the campus of Cal State Long Beach, through Sunday, Feb. 27. Performances are Thursday (2/24) at 8pm, Fridays (2/18, 2/25) at 8pm, Saturdays (2/19, 2/26) at 2pm and 8pm, Sunday (2/20) at 2pm and 7pm, and Sunday (2/27) at 2pm. Tickets start at $30 and can be purchased through the MTW Box Office at (562) 856-1999 ext. 4 or online at musical.org.

Photo courtesy MTW

Gregory Cohen and Beverly Turner in Moon Over Buffalo at the Long Beach Playhouse

By Vicki Paris Goodman
Culture Writer

Whenever I review farce, I’m compelled to “apologize” for my review with an admission that the genre is my least favorite. Frankly, most farce leaves me bored and underwhelmed. So my confession is meant to encourage readers to take my lack of enthusiasm with a grain of salt.
Well, Moon Over Buffalo, written by Ken Ludwig, is about as typically farcical as you can get. So why was I in stitches instead of continually checking my watch? Suffice it to say, there is no need for apologies on this occasion. The Long Beach Playhouse’s Mainstage production of Moon Over Buffalo is thoroughly entertaining and delightful.
The play centers around middle-aged George and Charlotte Hay (Gregory Cohen and Beverly Turner), married actors who run a theatrical repertory company in Buffalo and still await their first big break. The year is 1953, and the repertory company is going broke.
Meanwhile, George has “gone astray” by “making hay” with pretty young Eileen (Kristi Pruett). And the Hays’ actress-daughter Roz (Madison Mooney) has left her tempestuous relationship with stagehand Paul (Stephen Lydic) to seek normalcy with milquetoasty television weatherman Howard (Derek Bulger).
Cort Huckabone plays the Hays’ witty lawyer Richard, who takes advantage of George’s dalliance in order to pursue Charlotte. Donna Lee Taylor owns the role of Ethyl, Charlotte’s hearing-challenged mother and the theater’s taken-for-granted girl Friday.
Andrew Vonderschmitt directs the capable cast, boldly anchored by Playhouse veterans Cohen and Turner in the starring roles.
The action fires up at first via Eileen’s pregnancy by George. That misfortune is soon overshadowed by the excitement generated when famous director Frank Capra calls to announce that he will be attending an upcoming performance of the repertory company to seek replacement actors for roles abdicated due to an injury suffered by Hollywood heavyweight Ronald Coleman.
Charlotte and George fight spectacularly over the affair, while Roz and Paul scream at each other a bit too intimately over trivialities. Ethyl holds her own in the face of her son-in-law’s vicious verbal abuse. And Eileen and Howard just seek sanctuary from the lunacy.
Some of the acting is, admittedly, overdone. But the mastery of farce exhibited by Turner and, especially, Cohen, grounds the production. Cohen’s discerning versatility and unabashed lack of inhibition are something to behold. He is a fallible man, believable lover, and drama queen all rolled into one. His drunken scenes capture every conceivable aspect of the condition.
Turner, on the other hand, exhibits facial expressions combining the dexterity of a Jim Carrey with the look of Carol Burnett.
While tempers flair, relationships hang in the balance and the requisite mistaken identities complicate matters considerably. But when all seems lost due to a misbegotten performance, fate comes to the rescue in this very enjoyable Moon Over Buffalo.
Moon Over Buffalo continues on the Long Beach Playhouse Mainstage through March 5. General admission tickets are $22; $20 for seniors. Student tickets are $12 with valid student ID. Performances are Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8pm, with Sunday matinees at 2pm. The Long Beach Playhouse is located at 5021 E. Anaheim St. Call (562) 494-1014 for reservations and information. Tickets are also available online at lbplayhouse.org.

Photo courtesy of Long Beach Playhouse

Diane Benedict (Eleanor) and Travis McHenry (Richard) in Long Beach Playhouse’s The Lion in Winter

By Vicki Paris Goodman
Culture Writer

Call me a product of contemporary American culture. I am guilty as charged, as I couldn’t help imagining Star Trek’s Kirk and Spock outsmarting opponent after wily opponent as I watched The Lion in Winter at the Long Beach Playhouse.
A shocking examination of psychological jockeying for the coveted throne of England, the play is set in 1183 in the castle of King Henry II (of the Plantagenets, in case you were curious) and his imprisoned wife Eleanor of Aquitaine.
Eleanor, portrayed to duplicitous perfection by Diane Benedict, lives a cozy enough existence in the castle’s dungeon for some prior offense not mentioned in the play. Benedict’s Eleanor is at once kind and conniving. She and the relatively benevolent Henry, played with a slightly too modern speaking style by Steven Biggs, once loved each other, or not, and may still harbor a good deal of fondness for one another, or not.
It’s frustratingly hard to tell who loves or loathes whom. And that is both the point and the beauty of The Lion in Winter. Start to finish, the play maintains an uncertainty of alliance and affection between family members that keeps us guessing what’s what. As soon as we are convinced of a particular emotion’s existence between two characters, certainty is once again ripped away when things change on a dime.
Three rather humorless sons, who couldn’t be more distinct in inclination and aptitude, want no part of a shared reign at such future time that Henry should die. I suppose I would be humorless, too, if I were constantly in danger of being stabbed in the back, both figuratively and literally.
In any case, brave Richard (yes, the Lionhearted one), cerebral Geoffrey, and oafish John all desire to be heir apparent. To make matters more complex, Henry and Eleanor have each weighed in with strong opinions on the matter. And each has potent bargaining chips.
A hunky, head-shaven Travis McHenry plays the warrior-like Richard, Eleanor’s pick for the next king. His intimidating demeanor cloaks an emotional neediness that the formidable McHenry somehow manages to convey. Bravo!
Geoffrey, a classic example of middle-child syndrome, may be the brainiest, but that hardly makes up for a childhood of being disfavored and overlooked. The role of poor diss’d Geoffrey is handled well by Gregory Spradlin.
Matthew Riggle might, in a less refined setting, solicit boos and tomatoes for his subtly obnoxious and unpopular depiction of youngest son John, whom Henry inexplicably favors to be his successor to the throne. Riggle skillfully manages the spoiled, clumsy, and immature character.
Kate Woodruff Felton ably delivers the part of the lovely Alais– Henry’s mistress, Eleanor’s “foster child,” and possible future wife to whichever son ultimately acquires the throne. She is also the sister of Philip, the sharp-minded young King of France, played admirably by Adam Hale.
Spot-on direction by Michael Ross ensures that the play’s enigmatic familial bonds remain so, and that nothing is overdone. James Goldman’s brilliant playwriting speaks for itself, and Ross clearly recognizes the fact.
Set designer David Scaglione’s spare Gothic-arched dungeon is true-to-fantasy and functions beautifully given the limited stage footage. Scaglione’s faux-stone structure is made even more compelling by Andrew Vonderschmitt’s mood-enhancing lighting, which creates a chilling shadow effect of the three brothers at the play’s conclusion. Donna Fritsche’s costumes are, as usual, realistic and attractive.
The Lion in Winter wholly captures the universality of family dysfunction while rendering its manifestations both recognizable and unrecognizable, the latter no doubt due to the more acceptable brutality of the place and time. A compelling story of game-changing manipulation and emotional exploitation, The Lion in Winter is one first-rate play. And the Long Beach Playhouse’s is one first-class production.
The Lion in Winter continues in the Long Beach Playhouse Studio Theatre through Saturday, Dec. 11. General admission tickets are $22; $20 for seniors. Student tickets are $12 with valid student ID. Performances are Fridays and Saturdays at 8pm, and Sundays at 2pm. The Long Beach Playhouse is located at 5021 E. Anaheim St. Call (562) 494-1014 for reservations and information. Tickets are also available online at lbplayhouse.org.

Richard Kaye promised his dying father, lyricist Buddy Kaye, that he would see that the elder Kaye’s last work made it to the stage. Knowing of the son’s earnest vow, how could one help wanting When Garbo Talks! to be a great success?
With the younger Kaye’s committed advocacy, and music by Mort Garson, the new musical found its world premiere stage at Long Beach’s International City Theatre.
Depicting the rise of mysterious Swedish film star Greta Garbo, When Garbo Talks! certainly has plenty of poignant grist for the theatrical mill. Garbo’s uber-focused devotion to becoming a successful actress is, in itself, a tale sufficiently compelling to inspire an engaging dramatic play or musical. And of course there is far more to the story, all accentuated with effusive passion in this exceedingly hard-driving show.
What I can’t quite put my finger on is why When Garbo Talks! has to work so hard to tell its story. Perhaps it’s the score, a line-up of musical numbers that mostly amount to talking set to music. How about instead endowing the musical with an assortment of original songs, each one of a stand-alone quality possessing a hummable melodic line distinct from every other? Alas, those days seem to be long gone.
Also less than helpful to the show’s cause is the unimaginative and mismatched choreography, which seemed obligatory and as if borrowed from many other shows.
Jessica Burrows stars as a willowy and passionate Garbo with a more than competent singing voice. Chemistry admittedly sizzles between Burrows and actor Michael Stone Forrest, who looms large in the role of Swedish movie director Mauritz Stiller. Given the homosexuality that renders Stiller unavailable to Greta, this relationship adds interest and the only layer of complexity to the otherwise two dimensional show.
Garbo and Stiller, having naively come in good faith from Sweden into the clutches of a heartless Louis B. Mayer, are dismayed at the studio king’s deceitful Hollywood machinations.
Mayer, played with an icily confident and business-savvy American gruffness by Matthew Henerson, lends a welcome contrast to the overly emotive Scandinavian sensibility of some of the other characters. (Funny, I never thought I’d place “emotive” and “Scandinavian” in the same sentence.) Mayer’s ruthless team of loyal assistants fare well in the hands of actors Teya Patt and Nick Rogers. The trio came through with strong vocal performances throughout.
Christopher Carothers ably delivers the part of Gable-esque love interest John Gilbert. Greta’s ambivalence at Gilbert’s desire to marry her ends badly for Gilbert’s career, as he too falls victim to Mayer’s wrath.
Greta’s close friend Signe Enwall is played by a sparkling and sincere Alexandra Ackerman. Scott Kruse adeptly picks up assorted remaining roles.
Costume designer Kim DeShazo’s dresses and other attire are, on their own, almost worth the price of admission.
Apart from When Garbo Talks! simply trying too hard, it mostly lacks likeable characters and sufficient dramatic range to allow the audience a breather from the persistent intensity. Where the first act came to an uncomfortable, awkward, and anti-climactic break for intermission, the second act at least made a more consistent and believable appeal to the heart.
Given a good show, veteran director Jules Aaron and choreographer Kay Cole both possess the credentials to send a musical into the stratosphere. Unfortunately, When Garbo Talks! barely makes it through the cloud cover.

More Information
InternationalCityTheatre.com
(562) 436-4610

From left, Sarah Truly Beers (Catherine), Brenda Kenworthy (Claire), Susan E. Taylor (Anna), and Madison Larson (Catherine, understudy) in Long Beach Playhouse’s Boston Marriage

By Vicki Paris Goodman
Culture Writer

Boston Marriage is a surprisingly good play. Who would have thought playwright David Mamet could write about women, especially late 19th century New England women? Not I. Who would have believed he could successfully infuse his signature rapid-fire staccato dialogue with Victorian repartee befitting one of Oscar Wilde’s brilliant skewerings of the aristocracy? Again, certainly not I.
But do these things he does, and Long Beach Playhouse director Phyllis Gitlin and her three-woman acting ensemble conquer the play’s abundant challenging dialogue with everything they’ve got. Bravo!
Ever New England’s social and cultural trend-setter, Boston, it turns out, figures in the euphemistic code name given over a century ago to the physically and emotionally intimate relationship between two women– a “Boston marriage.” This was news to me.
True to its meaning, Boston Marriage revolves around the long-standing on-again-off-again “friendship” between cruelly acerbic Anna (Susan E. Taylor) and the somewhat more self-controlled Claire (Brenda Kenworthy).
After a separation of many years, Claire visits Anna, whose affections have not dimmed. However, Claire strongly desires intimacy with a certain very young companion and wishes to arrange the rendezvous at Anna’s lavish residence, which is astonishingly well captured by designer Greg Fritsche’s stunning set.
They say, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” and Anna becomes the very embodiment of the phrase. The ensuing negotiations, jockeying for advantage, and general verbal combat oscillate between shocking intensity and profound despair. Frequent mid-monologue comical interruptions by Scottish maid Catherine (Sarah Truly Beers) break the tension while prolonging our suspense. Naughty Mamet!
Anna demeans Catherine by calling her “Mary” or “Nora” or the ultra-abusive “Slavey.” But Beers’s Catherine stands her ground, either out of ignorance or true strength of character– we know not which. In any case, she is the perfect foil for degradations far too harsh for Anna to unleash on an equal like Claire. Offering up Catherine as a verbal punching bag, Mamet can believably demonstrate the extent of Anna’s acrimony.
Mamet’s dialogue is biting, deliciously insulting, and wickedly funny. Any restraint on the part of playwright or actors would ruin Boston Marriage. But fear not, moderation is nowhere in sight– not from Mamet’s pen, not from Gitlin’s able and willing cast.
In the end, Boston Marriage is about compromise, vulnerability and cutting one’s losses. What began with resentment and peaked with an interpersonal war ends with a semblance of civility.
Mamet’s greatest brilliance of all lies in his complete confidence in allowing the dialogue to carry the play. He trusts himself enough to permit his audience to fully appreciate the sexual and emotional intimacy between two women without subjecting them to its graphic manifestation. Sheer genius.
Boston Marriage continues in the Long Beach Playhouse Studio Theatre through Saturday, Oct. 30. Not recommended for children due to language and strong emotional content. General admission tickets are $22; $20 for seniors. Student tickets are $12 with valid ID. Performances are Fridays and Saturdays at 8pm, and Sundays at 2pm. The Long Beach Playhouse is located at 5021 E. Anaheim St. Call (562) 494-1014 for reservations and information. Tickets are also available online at lbplayhouse.org.

Caryn West, Nadia Nardini, Eileen Galindo and Kathy Bell Denton in The Clean House

By Vicki Paris Goodman
Culture Writer

Some might feel cheated that the opening joke in The Clean House is uttered in Portuguese. Those same folks might scowl again when the closing joke is merely whispered inaudibly into a character’s ear. But letting the audience miss the joke may be the right call by director caryn desai (sic).
Playwright Sarah Ruhl’s play pushes the boundaries in ways that few plays do. And the jokes are at once the point and beside the point. But is there a point to Ruhl’s somewhat superficial play?
In The Clean House, uptight accomplished physician Lane (Caryn West) is married to the suddenly philandering physician Charles (Rob Roy Cesar). Their marriage has been one of passionless mutual admiration. Their house is a monument to anti-clutter and sterility. Charles has fallen for one of his breast cancer patients, the vibrant and stunning Ana (Nadia Nardini). Ana is everything that Lane is not.
Brazilian Matilde (Eileen Galindo), whose now-deceased parents fell in love over their mutual pursuit of the perfect joke, is committed to carrying on the family tradition. She has also been hired by Lane to be her cleaning lady. The only problem is Matilde hates cleaning houses.
Enter Lane’s obsessive-compulsive sister Virginia (Kathy Bell Denton), whose entire life revolves around cleaning her own house. To Virginia’s chagrin, the task takes up only part of each day. So when she and Matilde get to talking, the result is a mutually beneficial pact in which clean freak Virginia secretly cleans her sister’s house, freeing up Matilde to continue her quest for the perfect joke.
As played by Galindo, the dry-humored, honest, and wholly likable Matilde carries the show. Not to make light of the portrayals by other cast members, but Ruhl’s play fails to develop any of them beyond the point of mere caricature. To this extent Ruhl abandons her responsibilities as playwright, avoiding the painstaking work of cultivating her characters and growing their relationships.
Indeed, when Matilde and Virginia begin to get to know each other, an opportunity exists for a real friendship to ensue. But Ruhl never goes in that direction or any other, for that matter. Instead she focuses on stereotypes and allegorical shadows, choosing to let her play constitute little more than a cartoon.
Cesar’s Charles epitomizes this shallowness, yielding a shell of a man whom someone like Ana could never believably care for.
Speaking of unbelievablility, Matilde’s reminiscences from childhood feature fondly remembered parents whose treatment of their daughter as a mere afterthought doesn’t wash either.
Even so, desai’s (sic) production is stylish and well executed. Designer Stephen Gifford’s immaculate and chaos-averse set is strikingly appealing, even zen-like, in its monochromatic simplicity and line. Kim DeShazo’s costumes go a long way toward helping to define the characters. If only Ruhl had done her part to develop them.
With all this in mind, audiences are called upon to suspend belief and accept The Clean House on its own quirky but admittedly rather engaging terms, where every scenario is a comic strip and every scene a fast-forward. As such, it’s a tall order which some audience members might find too tall.
The Clean House continues at International City Theatre through Sept. 19. Tickets are $37 to $42 for Friday and Saturday evening performances and for Sunday matinees; tickets are $32 to $37 for Thursday evening performances. Evening performances are at 8pm; Sunday matinees are at 2pm. ICT is located in the Long Beach Performing Arts Center at 300 East Ocean Blvd. Call (562) 436-4610 for reservations and information. Tickets are also available online at InternationalCityTheatre.org.