Wednesday, March 30, 2016

The Glass Menagerie

Playwright:  Tennessee Williams

Venue:  The Black Box Theater, 1367 Pecan Street, Colorado Springs CO.

Running Time:  2 hours 30 minutes (15 minute intermission) 

Date of Performance:  Saturday, March 26, 2016. 

The Glass Menagerie (hereafter Menagerie) has arrived at the Black Box Theatre, and it’s a appealing production of Tennessee Williams’ classic  story of anger, love, and our human flaws.

Williams premiered Menagerie in Chicago in 1944, and it moved to Broadway in 1945.  Largely autobiographical, Menagerie was Williams’ breakthrough script, winning the 1945 NY Drama Critics Circle Award.  He went from unknown to famous nearly overnight.  He wasn’t finished though, moving on to blockbusters like Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, A Streetcar Named Desire, and Night of the Iguana.

Tom (Grant Langdon) is both a character and a stand in for the playwright (Williams real name is Thomas; Tennessee is his nom de plume.)  Langdon has a keen sense of Williams; I suspect he connects completely with Tom’s frustration.  His mother is smothering him, constantly pestering him about his job and his pay.  Like most guys his age, Tom needs to get away from his family to start a new and more rewarding life for himself.  Langdon also has Williams’ emotional connection to Laura, doing what he can to help her. 

His mother Amanda (Mandy Houk) and sister Laura (Laura Gearhart) correspond to Williams’ own mother and actual sister, Rose.  Rose had a disability, made worse by a lobotomy.  She was institutionalized for much of her life; Williams was a devoted brother who used part of his royalties for her care. 
The Glass Menagerie cast:  Front, L-R:  Laura Gearhart (Laura), Mandy Houk (Mandy).
Back, L-R:  Luke Schoenemann (Jim O'Connor), Grant Langdon (Tom Wingfield).

Houk captures Williams’ mother Amanda; she is well intentioned but oblivious to her effect on her children.  Tennessee Williams is telling his own story here, and it is a painful one to watch as his mother, out of a genuine love, pushes her children away.

Laura is emotionally hobbled by her physical disability.  She is withdrawn, shy, and has no job or marriage possibilities.  Gearhart, as the disabled sister, is dead on.  With trembling hands and a halting, wispy voice, she is a broken person.  Her emotional damages are much more visible than her physical ones; she can barely communicate with others because of her slight limp.  Her performance would go to the next level if she could give us a consistent, visible reminder of the source of her suffering.

Tom does what he can for his sister:  he agrees to bring a “gentleman caller” home from his work at the warehouse.  That gentleman caller is Jim O’Connor (Luke Schoenmann).  For those who haven’t seen Menagerie, I won’t spoil the plot, but whether Jim is a suitable marriage match for Laura is unclear.  What is clear is that it’s a long shot.  Shoenemann has an authentic if “on again off again” Irish brogue, but he’s otherwise a compelling character.  He’s genuinely concerned for Laura, and does his best damage control when things start to unravel.

Menagerie at Black Box is a rare opportunity to see a classic American script done by a capable cast in an intimate environment.  It’s a small venue; every seat in the house is excellent.  Whether you’ve seen Menagerie before or have never experienced Tennessee Williams, Black Box is giving you an opportunity to see one of his best shows in a special place. 


This show is suitable for all ages.  There is ample free street parking in front of the theater.  

Black Box has one of the best concession stands around, featuring a number of excellent craft sodas.

This show closes on April 8, 2016.

Photo Credit:  Black Box Theatre



Producer/Director: Nancy Holaday

Stage Carpenter/Electrician: Ken Holaday

Technical Director:  Kitty Robbins

Lights and Sound:  Evan Danforth

Stage Manager:  Kylie Hartnett


Tom Wingfield:  Grant Langdon

Laura Wingfield:  Laura Gearhart

Amanda Wingfield:  Mandy Houk

Jim O’Connor:  Luke Schoenemann

Saturday, March 26, 2016


Playwright:  Samuel Beckett

Company:  Starbar Players

Venue:  Cottonwood Center for the Arts, 427 E. Colorado Avenue, Colorado Springs CO.

Running Time:  90 minutes (no intermission) 

Date of Performance:  Thursday, March 24, 2016. 

The good news is that because this is a blog post, I don’t have to comply with an artificial word limit.  The bad news is that because this is a blog post, I don’t have to comply with an artificial word limit.

As this is a rather long post (approximately 1,700 words), I’m going to summarize it here for those disinclined to dig deep into Starbar Players’ production of Samuel Beckett’s Endgame.  Here’s the short version:

1.  This isn’t Facebook; there is no “like” button.  Beckett is difficult playwright to appreciate.

2.  Starbar Players’ production is one that would have brought a smile to Beckett’s face.  It’s authentic, true to Beckett’s message, and an altogether exemplary production of a very difficult script.


Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

It’s no small irony that this review will be posted much too late to have any impact on ticket sales for Starbar.  That’s ironic because Beckett didn’t give a damn about ticket sales or popularity.  So, even though Starbar can’t ignore their cash flow, producing Endgame was never meant to fill the house.  It was meant to bring Beckett’s message to us, and they have overachieved in reaching that goal.

Sometimes theater entertains us, and sometimes theater challenges us.  Beckett’s decidedly bleak Endgame falls squarely in the latter category.  It is challenging, provocative, and frustrating, which is exactly what Beckett intended.

If you’re wondering why a playwright would intentionally provoke and frustrate his audience, you need some context.  Beckett was writing post World War II (Endgame was first produced in 1957), a time when Europe had just emerged from the brutality of the Holocaust, the German occupation of France, and the London Blitz.  

Beckett was known as one of the primary writers of theater of the absurd, which was loosely aligned with the philosophy of existentialism that bloomed in the mid 20th century.  Existentialism, briefly, holds that man defines his existence through his free will and his actions.  Until we seek a personal definition of ourselves, life is empty due to our suffering and lack of control over events.  (That is a huge oversimplification, but this is not a philosophical treatise.)

Beckett’s most famous work is Waiting for Godot, but Endgame may well be his most important.  The spartan setting is a bare room with two small windows; one looks out on the “earth,” the other on the “sea”.  Hamm (Bob Morsch) is the alpha male in the cast, constantly barking orders to Clov (Jude Bishop), and to his parents (who are kept in trash cans at stage right).  Nagg (Steve Wallace) is Hamm’s father; Nell (Sallie Walker) is his mother.  To say that this foursome is unusual is an understatement of the highest order.

The group is apparently operating in another reality.  Nothing happens.  Nothing changes. Nagg and Nell have no legs and live in trash cans.  Hamm can’t walk; Clov can’t sit.  The dialog is akin to what might be overheard in a psychiatric hospital where the patients who are not catatonic are discussing their day:

If you leave me how shall I know?
CLOV (briskly):
Well you simply whistle me and if I don't come running it means I've left you.
You won't come and kiss me goodbye?
Oh I shouldn't think so.
But you might be merely dead in your kitchen.
The result would be the same.
Yes, but how would I know, if you were merely dead in your kitchen?
Well... sooner or later I'd start to stink.
You stink already. The whole place stinks of corpses.

Beckett puts us in limbo; a place between life and death.  It may exist as a brief moment in time, in which we all get to reflect on our life as it is ending.  Or it may be an extended time, a temporary hell to be endured before going somewhere else.  In my view, it is neither.  It’s Beckett’s theatrical device to start the internal discussion we should all have while we’re alive, before it’s too late.  If we haven’t defined our lives before we die, we never will.

When you walk into the theater, only one of the actors will be visible.  Clov will be standing, frozen like a mannequin near center stage.  The physical stress on Jude Bishop is obvious; he stands motionless for at least 15 minutes.  It took me a few minutes of observation to know that fact.  Yes.  That’s an actor, not a mannequin.  And no.  He has not moved.  At all.  
Jude Bishop (Clov) and Bob Morsch (Hamm).

Bishop’s not just a mannequin though.  He’s a talented actor who shines with or without his voice.  His delivery is multifaceted; he shuffles, stumbles, mumbles, and slinks his way across the stage.  He makes his point with extended pauses and icy hostile stares at Hamm.  His vocal delivery is deadpan; even when he’s angry he doesn’t let his rage break through.  Beckett’s Clov symbolizes humans without purpose, driven only by exterior forces.  Bishop’s Clov is an arresting vision of a man stuck in Hamm’s nightmare.

Bob Mosch plays a wholly unlikeable Hamm, self absorbed and indifferent to both people and place.  Mosch is an imposing physical presence; we can understand why Clov carefully follows all of his orders.  The essence of Mosch’s performance, though, is his understated acceptance of Hamm’s fate.  Mosch deftly displays a terminal apathy; he has rejected life and accepted his imminent death.  We often see ourselves fighting for our lives until the bitter end; Mosch forces us to see that each of us will eventually give up that fight before it’s finished.

Steve Wallace (Nagg) and Sallie Walker (Nell) play Hamm’s parents, although these are hardly typical parents.  They never get out of the garbage cans.  There’s no small irony in Beckett’s staging here.  As Hamm is living out his last moments, his parents are literally trashed, broken, and dying themselves.  Wallace and Walker are a marvelous pair, popping up out of their bins like puppets to perform for Hamm.

Sallie Walker (Nell) and Steve Wallace (Nagg)/
A. Clements Mosley (Beth) gets credit for the Endgame makeup, which is fabulous.  She has done up her actors in various degrees of zombie makeup, giving them a “walking dead” appearance.  It’s appropriate; Beckett’s characters are somewhere between dead and alive, but closer to dead.  Mosley is especially effective with Nagg and Nell, who are about as creepy as any characters I’ve seen in a long time.

Director Dylan Mosley helms a talented cast at a measured pace, using pauses to emphasize the absurdity of the Beckett’s lines.  I’ve seen productions where the ladder scenes are drawn out for effect; Mosely keeps the pace natural.  He has a keen sense of Beckett’s message, and delivers it in spite of the repetition and relentless monotony of that message.

Some things haven’t changed that much since Beckett wrote Endgame.  We still have an evil entity killing innocent people in cities across the globe, and many of those incidents are all but unknown in the US.  That same entity will finish The Holocaust if given the opportunity.  And we have the rise of a right wing nationalist who would have nuclear launch codes if elected President.  The bleakness of the post World War II era was the driving force that made people question the direction and meaning of their lives.  That same bleakness still challenges us today.

I’m not a big fan of Beckett, nor existentialism.  Still, I have to admire a script that flips the bird to traditional theater while daring audiences to take it or leave it.  Beckett is an acquired taste, and one that most people will never know.  That’s fine; Beckett wouldn’t have it any other way.  For those who find some sense in Beckett’s writing (and I consider myself among them), Endgame is a enduring nuisance.  It like eating your broccoli; you may not like it, but it's good for you on some level.  Endgame didn’t change the world, nor did it change traditional theater, but it makes a bold statement.  

Beckett was a chess player, and “endgame” is a chess term.  It has to do with the final moves of the few pieces left before a game is over.  Endgame’s pieces are it’s characters: Hamm, the King, Clov, the Bishop, with Nagg and Nell as pawns.  Hamm is playing out his last pieces in a game he is certain to lose.  The proper term in chess is to "resign."  In life, the term is "die."
We all will have our own “endgame” as we live out our last days and hours.  We will move the medical pieces, the spiritual pieces, and the emotional pieces of our lives into a defensive formation to stave off the inevitable.  The game is won in the opening and middle sections, when we have a chance to define a purpose in our lives.  It cannot be won in the “endgame.”

Weeping Woman, Pablo Picasso (1937).
Endgame is to theater as Pablo Picasso is to art.  Picasso’s Weeping Woman is striking but elusive.  What are we to make of either Picasso or Beckett?  That’s a rhetorical question; the answer matters less than the experience.

I’ve seen other productions of Endgame, but this one is the best I have seen yet.  One of the recurring questions Hamm raises throughout the performance is “is it time for my pain killer?”  If only.  There is no pain killer for the pain we endure in both life and death.  Starbar has delivered a poignant reminder of our own personal endgames.


For those who need a really deep dive into existentialism, get a copy of Jean Paul Sartre’s L’Etre et le NĂ©ant (Being and Nothingness).  It’s a difficult read, but if you’re a philosophy major, it might be useful.

You can find the entire script for Endgame online here.

While there is no pain killer for Hamm, there is no reason for you not to have a shot of tequila if you want after the show.  It won't cure all (or any) of the problems in your life, but there should be some reward for going to Beckett's darkest places. 

Ample free street parking is available in front of and around the Cottonwood Center for the Arts.   This show is suitable for teens and up, but I’m not sure why one would want a teen to wade into the darkness of Endgame

If you think your job is bad, at least you don't have to work out of a trash can.  Acting is SO glamorous.

This show closes on March 26, 2016.

Photo Credit:  Starbar Players.


Director/Set Designer:  Dylan Mosley

Set Construction:  Jim Campbell, Dylan Mosley, Palyn Peterson, Steve Wallace

Sound Design/Board Operator:  Palyn Peterson

Lighting Design:  Ben Sloan

Music:  Stephen Scottt and the Bowed Piano Ensemble

Costumes:  Jenifer Andrews

Makeup:  A. Clements Mosley

Stage Manager:  Palyn Peterson


Hamm:  Bob Morsch

Clov:  Jude Bishop

Nagg:  Steve Wallace

Nell:  Sallie Walker

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Tigers Be Still

Playwright:  Kim Rosenstock

Venue:  The Avenue Theater, 417 E. 17th Avenue, Denver CO.

Running Time:  1 hour 40 minutes (no intermission) 

Date of Performance:  Sunday, March 20, 2016. 

Olive McGowen (as Sherry Wickman). 
From the moment Olive McGowen (as Sherry, the newly minted art therapist) opens the show, she is a vibrant, perky presence who drives the Tigers Be Still story.  She got spontaneous applause before she spoke her first line. How does that even happen?  You have to see it to get it. McGowen charmed the crowd from the outset, telling the story of her sister and mother’s paralyzing depression.  

Sherry herself was also depressed, but dragged herself out of bed and got her first job out of college.  Principal Joseph Moore (Mark Collins) offered her an art teacher position, and a chance to practice her academic focus:  art therapy.  (I had never heard of “art therapy.”  It turns out it’s not a dramatic device; there actually is such a thing.)  Her client is the principal’s son Zack (Michael Kosko), an angry slacker who can’t hold a job.

As for the tigers in the title, the plot includes one escaped tiger whose real and symbolic presence creates a sense of danger for the cast.  Playwright Kim Rosenstock is not the only writer to use a wild tiger in a script.  There is no question that a tiger injects a subconscious fear of an unexpected attack and a gruesome death.  Whether it is a necessary plot element for Tigers Be Still though is debatable.  

This is a script overloaded with issues:  depression, grief, loss, guilt, the meaning of family and love, to name a few.  Any one of these issues would be sufficient for a one act script; lumped together in a single act requires under developing some of them (the tiger being a good example).   Rosenstock leaves the audience with a lot of loose ends, including “what ever happened to the tiger?”  It turns out to be the least urgent problem the cast is facing.
Michael Kosko (Zack).

Tigers Be Still is described as a “comedy about depression.”  (See the banner at the top of this post.)  As one might expect, the laughs are somewhat stifled, given the subject matter.  Depression is hardly a laughing matter for anyone who has experienced it, personally or through friends or family.  Your reticence to smile or laugh is justified.

Script issues aside, this is a dynamite production powered by Ms. McGowen.  She’s the center of the Tigers Be Still universe; the rest of the cast orbits around her.  Michael Kosko is convincingly guilt ridden yet emotionally mature and approachable.  His attraction to Sherry is especially well done, understated but obvious.  Mark Collins is the adult in the room, chastising Sherry for a poor decision.  Collins nails a scene where he is on the phone, trying to cancel a magazine subscription for his late wife.  I’ve had similar experiences, but without the comedic twists.

Christine Shutt plays Sherry’s depressed sister Grace with a sad sack brilliance.  Shutt’s obsession with Troy, her estranged boyfriend, is as painful for the audience as it is for her character.  She is particularly entertaining when she gets revenge on Troy by sneaking into his apartment to steal whatever she can carry out.  
Christine Shutt (Grace) & Olive McGowen (Sherry).

Despite my reservations about the script, it’s worth noting that Rosenstock makes excellent use of a couple of cultural references (the film Top Gun and the Beatles song Norwegian Wood).  Both are used to excellent effect, adding context to several important scenes.  Given the copyright issues, playwrights rarely incorporate other media into their scripts.  Rosenstock has taken on the copyright fight and the script is better for doing so.

Mark Collins (Principal Joseph Moore).

Director John Ashton has pulled off a casting coup with the relatively unknown McGowen, but I don't think she'll be unknown for long.  The lighting is well done (except for one flickering light), and the sound design brings the Top Gun soundtrack seamlessly into the story.  Stuart Barr's set design is detailed and functional, but near the end of the show he pulls out all the stops.  His "shoe closet" set is beyond beautiful.

Tigers Be Still is an entertaining script, albeit a tad too ambitious.  The Avenue Theater’s production, anchored by McGowen, is first rate.  Ms. McGowen’s performance is exemplary, and she’s supported by a capable and talented trio of actors.  Catch Tigers Be Still if you can, but don’t feed the big striped cat that is presumably still wandering around nearby.


This show is suitable for teens and up.  Parking can be difficult; there is free but limited street parking and some paid surface lots in the vicinity.  Plan to arrive early enough to circle the block a few times.

I did not mention this in the review because The Avenue Theater has no control over it.  However, there was some serious audio bleed from the neighbors at The Denver Wrangler.  The drumbeat of electronic dance music was a constant source of noise throughout the show.  This is not criticism, but simply a heads up for patrons at The Avenue Theater.  Try to tune out the intrusive music.

This show closes on April 2, 2016.

Photo Credit:  The Avenue Theater.



Executive Producers: John Ashton and Abby Boes

Director:  John Ashton

Scenic Design: Stuart Barr

Sound Design:  John Ashton and Steve Tangedal

Lighting Design:  Steve Tangedal


Principal Joseph Moore:  Mark Collins

Zack Moore:  Michael Kosko

Sherry Wickman:  Olive McGowen

Grace Wickman:  Christine Shutt

Monday, March 21, 2016

Getting Out

Playwright:  Marsha Norman

Venue:  The Edge Theater, 1560 Teller Street, Lakewood CO.

Running Time:  2 hours 10 minutes (includes 10 minute intermission) 

Date of Performance:  Saturday, March 19, 2016. 

Marsha Norman is getting a bounce on the front range; her 1983 ’Night Mother has had two successful revivals here recently. (Reviewed here and here.)  Both recent productions were powerful displays of Norman’s gift for portraying real people in desperate situations.

Getting Out, now playing through April 3 at The Edge Theatre in Lakewood, is one of Norman’s earliest plays, opening in October, 1978.  Arlene (Missy Moore) has just been “rehabilitated” and released from prison.  Like most released convicts, she goes home to an environment that is as unchanged and toxic as it was when she left it after her conviction for murder.  

The script is gritty; Arlene’s good intentions to turn her life around are thwarted at every turn by the sketchy characters and her advanced state of destitution.  At some level, we all realize that Arlene’s dilemma is real, but Norman’s script has an “in your face” intensity that turns the theoretical dilemma into a bleak reality.

In other words, Getting Out is similar to ‘Night Mother in at least one important aspect:  it is painfully difficult to watch.  One cannot idly sit by and witness the soul crushing reality of Arlene’s life without cringing.
L-R:  Kent Randell (Carl), Missy Moore (Arlene),
Robert Michael Sanders (Bennie).

Missy Moore is perhaps the perfect actress to play Arlene; she has the emotional strength and the physical stamina to draw us into Arlene’s world.  Moore has an arresting “deer in the headlights” expression, simultaneously stunned and motionless.  She endures two physical assaults in every performance, conveying both her fear and her pain in convincing detail.  Arlene is a complex and tortured character, and Moore turns in a brutally truthful, transcendent performance.

Moore’s alter ego, Arlie Girl (Xandra Prestia-Turner), is her younger, criminal wild child self.  It’s difficult to imagine a wilder child than Prestia-Turner; her guards are flummoxed by her temper tantrums and volatility.  (With the exception of Bennie, played by Robert Michael Sanders, but more on him below.)  Early in the first act, she demonstrates what a bag of frogs sounds like.  You’ve been warned.  Prestia-Turner is locked in, giving us a scary if accurate picture of who the young Arlene really was.

As for Mr. Sanders, his Bennie is truly a paradox.  While he appears to be the only person Arlene can trust, he has a very dark side.  His dual personality turns on Arlene in the worst possible way.  Sanders delivers his schizophrenic character beautifully, going from the nicest guy on stage to the nastiest in the blink of an eye.  It’s an abrupt transition, made credible by Sander’s physical and emotional presence.
Xandra Prestia-Turner (Arlie Girl).

Kent Randell (Carl) tries to lure Arlene back into his hooker harem with promises of easy money and only four customers a day.  Randell is a stereotypical pimp, dressed in a suitably outrageous pimp get up (hat tip to Nicole Harrison’s costumes).  He plays both pimp roles; he’s smoothly persuasive until he needs brute force to make his point.  Randell is evil all dressed up for a night on the town, and Arlene senses that he’s also a one way ticket back to the slammer. 

Ruby (Kelly Uhlenhopp) is Arlene’s only hope, but it’s a slim one at that.  Uhlenhopp treats Arlene like a human being.  That matters.  Arlene has a criminal record, no apparent life skills, and lacks the funds to buy her groceries.  That Ruby would give her the time of day is significant; that she extends a helping hand is crucial.  Uhlenhopp is the only source of hope for Arlene, and indeed, for the audience.  When Ms Uhlenhopp smiles and speaks, it’s with a sincerity and honesty that brightens Arlene’s bleak existence.

Director Rick Yaconis delivers a well oiled performance here, with a talented cast and a passion for the script.  At times, that passion plays out as violence and at times as screaming and screeching.  Both are necessary if painful elements of Getting Out.  Justin Lane’s scenic design is both realistic and symbolic.  Both the first level kitchen and the second level prison are first rate realistic renditions.  Symbolically, both are extensions of the other.  The line between inside the prison and outside the prison disappear; in reality, both are prisons.  Fight Choreographer Seth Maisel has two duties:  1) to put on realistic conflicts, and 2) to never put the actors in harm’s way.  He does both exceedingly well.  It was all I could do to resist intervening in the conflicts playing out a few feet from my seat.

Kelly Uhlenhopp (Ruby) & Missy Moore (Arlene).
Getting Out is a brutal indictment of the victimization of inmates and parolees.  It’s very difficult to watch, and even harder to forget.  Arlene has been successfully rehabilitated, which entitles her to make a choice between crushing poverty or selling herself daily to the highest bidder.  That's an absurd choice; she did her time and paid in full for her crime.

That said, I found the script extremely harsh with the male characters.  There's not a decent one in the entire cast.  Whether pimps, guards, or rapists, the Getting Out guys are a sorry lot.  That may be an accurate portrayal of males in Marsha Norman's experience, but it is quite at odds with my own experience.  A token decent guy would add a bit of reality to the Getting Out experience.

Economic inequality is not just a campaign issue (although it certainly is that).  It’s an economic reality.  I suspect each and every one of us can easily name some hard working friends or relatives who can barely make ends meet.  The notion that hard work results in upward mobility is more myth than fact; nearly all those who move up work hard, but only a small fraction of the hard working move up.   Arlene’s situation is not unique, but you don’t have to be an ex con to join the working poor.  If you have a limited education and/or limited job skills, your upward mobility opportunities are extremely rare.  You may work hard for a lifetime without rising out of poverty.

We used to be the “land of opportunity.”  Recent research shows that upward mobility in the U.S. is not nearly as good as in other developed countries.  Getting Out is not proof of the problem, but a graphic demonstration of the barriers.   One need look no further than the talented and hard working members of the Colorado theater community for that proof.  Given the economic realities, Arlene is not the only one for whom Getting Out of poverty is nearly impossible. 


This show is suitable for adults and older teens. There is strong language and some intense situations.

There is ample parking at The Edge Theatre.  Do not be concerned about police vehicles that may be parked in the same area.  

This show closes on April 3, 2016.


We left Colorado Springs early for the 8:00 PM curtain at The Edge.  It’s March Madness, and Roxie is a BIG KU (Kansas University) fan.  They had a 6:00 PM game she wanted to see, so we headed for Old Chicago at 145 Union in Lakewood before the show.

Dinner was Irish Nachos (corned beef on kettle chips with queso) and Double Deckeroni pizza…a decidedly rational order given that Old Chicago is a sports bar.  Our server, Tawny, was extremely vigilant, making sure we had everything we needed without being intrusive.  The food was fine, and the Jayhawks won the game.  Needless to say, we’d do it all again…

Photo Credit:  The EdgeTheatre & RDG Photography.



Producer: Patty Yaconis

Director:  Rick Yaconis

Assistant Director:  Ryan Goold

Scenic Design: Justin Lane

Master Carpenter Emeritus:  Rich Munoz

Sound Design:  Madison Kuebler

Lighting Design:  Sean Mallary

Fight Choreographer:  Seth Maisel

Costume Design:  Nicole Harrison

Dialect Coach:  Mark Collins

Production Manager/Props:  Lara Maerz

Stage Manager:  Katie Espinoza


Arlene:  Missy Moore

Arlie Girl:  Xandra Prestia-Turner

Bennie:  Robert Michael Sanders

Evans:  Jonathan Brown

Caldwell:  Anthony Ryan

Doctor:  Peter Marullo

Mother:  Erica Sarzin-Borillo

Principal:  OD Duhu

Ronnie:  Erik Thurston

Carl:  Kent Randell

Warden:  Max Cabot

Ruby:  Kelly Uhlenhopp

Jailbird/ASM:  Kristin Honiotes