GUANTANAMO: HONOR BOUND TO DEFEND FREEDOM -- (At Studio Theatre through Dec. 11)
When an administration feels it is answerable to no one, playwrights Victoria Brittain and Gillian Slovo appear to be saying, why should a play have to be impartial? "Guantanamo" is a kind of tribunal, offering testimony from lawyers, human rights activists and relatives of both the detainees and those who died in the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, as well as from the detainees themselves. Much of the play is consumed by the stories of three British detainees, Moazzam Begg (Kaveh Haerian), Jamal al-Harith (Andrew Stewart-Jones) and Bisher al-Rawi (Ramiz Monsef), their paths to Cuba recounted for us simply, in talking-head style. The directness of the play is novel in a town in which an astonishing paucity of theater by the major companies attempts to talk back to power. It gives one pause, though, to reflect on the fact that only those predisposed to considering the criticisms of "Guantanamo" are the ones likely to hear them.
-- Peter Marks
HAPGOOD -- (By Washington Shakespeare Company at the Clark Street Playhouse through Dec. 4)
Have you ever wanted to be in two places at the same time? The characters do it in Tom Stoppard's tricky 1988 play about love and spies during the Cold War. At least the people appear to be in two places at once. Watch carefully as the shell game starts in this perceptive, if guarded, production. The situation, in brief: The Brits are trying to pass the Russians some disinformation about the Strategic Defense Initiative, but someone's playing both sides. Hapgood (Kathleen Akerley), who's running the operation, has to sort it all out. The suspects include a Russian scientist and double agent named Kerner (Bruce Alan Rauscher), a hot-tempered English operative named Ridley (Hugh T. Owen) and Hapgood herself. No one does intellectual puzzlement better than Stoppard, and the deliberate mysteries of espionage suit him well. The staging of co-directors Christopher Henley and Alexandra Hoge is cautious and oddly stationary, but the acting is mostly sensible, and Akerley is a fine centerpiece. Her tactics aren't bad for handling the high-minded tomfoolery Stoppard offers here: Think. Relax. Make it look easy.
-- Nelson Pressley
JUSTO EN LO MEJOR DE MI VIDA (JUST AT LIFE'S BEST MOMENT) -- (By Teatro de la Luna at Gunston Arts Center through Saturday)
Buenos Aires musician Enzo is the hero of this yawn of a play that has been a hit in Argentina and that is currently being staged here in Spanish with English surtitles. Written by Argentinean playwright Alicia Munoz, the play conjures up a few poignant hours in the existence of fifty-something Enzo, who finds himself watching his family's unflattering reactions to his untimely death. As the play weaves fragments of mild melodrama, it muses on the bittersweet nature of domestic life. This attractive production of the piece features director Mario Marcel as Enzo, emphasizing the character's clownish impatience, but also his tenderness. And both lighting and set contribute to a low-key coup de theatre that is perhaps the highlight of the production.
-- Celia Wren
A STREECAR NAMED DESIRE -- (By Keegan Theatre at the Church Street Theater through Nov. 26)
Audiences shouldn't expect a little piece of eternity to be dropped into their hands -- to invoke a line from Blanche DuBois -- but a couple of persuasive performances and intelligent direction by Eric Lucas and Mark A. Rhea make for a largely gratifying three hours. Admittedly, Kerry Waters turns in an absurdly affected depiction of Blanche, the play's disintegrating Southern belle. However, she does let the caricature thaw a bit toward the end, and the explosion of hysteria during Blanche's final confrontation with her admirer Mitch (Lucas) deserves a nod for sheer gutsiness. Fortunately, Susan Marie Rhea and Mark Rhea, who happen to be married, are vastly more plausible and engaging as Stella and Stanley Kowalski, Blanche's sister and brother-in-law. "There are very few nearly perfect plays. 'Streetcar' is one of them," playwright Robert E. Lee once asserted. Keegan's flawed but watchable "Streetcar" suggests that Williams's hothouse flower of a drama is also more sturdy than one might suspect.
THE VIOLET HOUR -- (By Rep Stage at Howard Community College through Nov. 20)
The characters in Richard Greenberg's inventive play are giddy and extravagant, prone to sweeping narcissism and visionary gestures, and you might feel as if you've encountered some of these figures before. That jaunty writer bent on dominating the literary world -- is that F. Scott Fitzgerald? And is that dizzy flapper Zelda his future wife? Sort of. In the play, they are known as Denis and Rosamund and are pushing Denis's new manuscript on fledgling publisher John Pace Seavering and hoping to bottle lightning through a book deal. They are competing with Seavering's secret lover, Jessie Brewster, an exotic chanteuse (Josephine Baker, anyone?). Greenberg writes in an unbridled, entertaining style throughout, peppering the dialogue with highbrow one-liners and allowing his characters to carry on in vast, dazzling tracts. Director Kasi Campbell has a keen appreciation for the play's changeable tone; the few missteps seem minor compared with the play's aggressive flirtation with time-tinkering tactics and its ambitious nose for the intriguing gray areas hinted at by the title.
THE BEARD OF AVON -- (By Rorschach Theatre at Casa del Pueblo through Nov. 20)
To a question literary detectives love to chew on -- who really wrote the plays of Shakespeare? -- the playwright Amy Freed offers a delightfully unscholarly answer: Everybody! After naive Will Shakspere (Grady Weatherford) leaves his wife for a theater troupe in London, a jaded earl (Eric Singdahlson) persuades Will to be his theatrical beard. The twist is that Singdahlson's Edward De Vere is a master of plot but has no common touch, while Will is able to speak from the heart with a simple grace. Director Jessica Burgess and a well-drilled cast, led by the winning Grady Weatherford as Will, tackle their assignments with ravenous pleasure. Freed's comedy binds academic satire and lowbrow slapstick, and the sweet intimacy of Rorschach's staging serves the silly story.
THE BEGINNING OF SUMMER -- (By Quotidian Theatre Company at the Writer's Center in Bethesda through Nov. 20)
This is fevered Southern gothic at its drawling, hand-wringing worst, Horton Foote's middle play of a trilogy involving hard-shelled Mamie Borden. The first act is fueled by liquor and then the threat of bloodshed; it's crude and repetitive, and director Jack Sbarbori's cast isn't quite up to it. Exactly how the frail, aging Mamie (Jane Squier Bruns) is supposed to plausibly restrain her drunk and vengeful husband, Albert (Steve LaRocque), is something Sbarbori and the actors haven't quite worked out. Everybody fares better in the second act, when dawn approaches and Foote's mellowing characters begin to work their way toward reconciliation.
THE BODY PROJECT -- (By Horizons Theatre at the Warehouse Theater through Sunday)
This extremely well-intentioned but tedious piece of awareness-raising theatre, written and directed by Leslie Jacobson and Vanessa Thomas, incorporates material gleaned from interviews with local women and consists of anecdotes featuring characters who have little personality beyond their situations. There's the aging actress; the bulimic; the overweight girl who's shunned by her peers; the overweight mother who's shunned by her daughter; and so on. Admittedly, if the show provokes useful public discussion about female self-consciousness, the effort of the creators will not have been in vain. But for a more artful take on the phenomenon, you could just open an issue of Glamour magazine.
BRIGHT IDEAS -- (By Didactic Theatre Company at D.C. Arts Center through Sunday)
Eric Coble's gleeful black comedy revels in a vision of the nurturing instinct gone haywire with a romp through the saga of Genevra and Joshua Bradley (Kristy Powers and Leo Goodman), anxious parents of a 3-year-old boy, whom they are resolved to shower with every advantage. At the top of their list is enrolling little Mac in Bright Ideas preschool, but he's still on the waiting list, so the couple take matters into their own hands, with downright Shakespearean results. Director Christopher Carroll has coaxed the production onto an enjoyably hyperbolic track, maximizing Coble's wicked lampooning of the parenting industry.
CAVALIA -- (Under the White Big Top at Army Navy Drive and S. Fern Street in Pentagon City through Nov. 23)
The relationship between man and animal is romanticized to the hilt in this lovely, spacey horse show created by Cirque du Soleil co-founder Normand Latourelle. Horse buffs will ooh and aah at the fine-tuned maneuvers pulled off by a team of gorgeous steeds who share the scene with acrobats, aerialists and arena-scale multimedia effects, all wrapped in a dense, insistently pretty aesthetic. The best moments of this busy extravaganza aren't the sensational ones; what lingers are the subtleties, the tranquility, the sensation of letting certain expectations go.
DEFENDING THE CAVEMAN -- (At Rosslyn Spectrum Theatre through Nov. 27)
Comedian Rob Becker made a killing by sharply packaging shopworn observations in the 1990s as his one-man show toured the country and then became the longest-running solo show in Broadway history. Becker's stage persona was pretty irresistible; he melded stereotypes and archetypes in a way that captured the country's fascination with pop psychology. A number of actors have assumed Becker's role in touring productions; Kevin Burke is the new star of this one. Some of the material remains sure-fire, and Becker's explorations are not without droll insights.
FOR THE PLEASURE OF SEEING HER AGAIN -- (At MetroStage through Nov. 27)
The usual rule is that when a son writes a play about his mother, she should look out. But Canadian writer Michel Tremblay goes against convention in the mannerly and sentimental two-character play. It's an adoring memoir. Bruce M. Holmes plays the son, and for almost the entire 90 minutes he sits on one side of the stage and listens as Catherine Flye chatters and scolds and dominates conversations as only an iron-willed mother can. Tremblay writes about the narrator/son in his formative years, as he grows from a teenager old enough to talk back a little to a young man old enough to be out on his own. Flye's a hoot, full of righteous criticism and vivid detail. The best part is the sly revelation of what this relationship led to: the subtle exchange of cynical critical distance for openhearted, wide-ranging imagination.
IF WE ARE WOMEN -- (At Washington Stage Guild through Nov. 27)
Canadian playwright Joanna McClelland Glass's 1993 drama takes its title from a Virginia Woolf quote -- "We think back through our mothers, if we are women" -- and is indeed apt. "Women's" two-plus hours is nearly all backward-looking conversation among Jessica (Lynn Steinmetz), her farm-raised, illiterate mother, Ruth (June Hansen), her ex-husband's highbrow, Jewish mom, Rachel (Jewell Robinson), and Jessica's 18-year-old daughter, Polly (Sarah Fischer), with their various takes on love and life spurred not only by Martin's death, but by Polly's failure to come home after a school dance the night before. While sitting on Tracie Duncan's pastel-painted deck or preparing food, the women talk mostly about the opportunities, or lack thereof, their different upbringings afforded them and lament some of the choices they've made as adults. "Women's" biggest fault lies in the frequently unnatural dialogue. McClelland takes a winding, rocky road to get to the emotional finale, but at least the destination is satisfying.
-- Tricia Olszewski
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING -- (At Folger Theatre through Nov. 27)
Director Nick Hutchinson's World War II-era makeover of Shakespeare's eternally delicious battle of the sexes -- with big band sounds and khaki uniforms -- is atmospheric if pedestrian, retaining the bard's rhyme and meter and leaving the rest to props and wardrobe. Aside from Kate Eastwood Norris's graceful and accomplished Beatrice and Jim Zidar's deadpan Dogberry, the cast is sorely tested. The actors are further hamstrung by the conceit that divides Shakespeare's Italian characters into American officers and British aristocrats, and shifts the scene from Messina to the grounds of an English country home just after peace is declared. Norris's Beatrice, an English rose, has her eye on Yankee officer Benedick (P.J. Sosko), but both are too proud to make the first move. Meanwhile, the malicious Don John (Jim Jorgensen) is determined to wreck the nuptials of Claudio (Dean Alai) to Hero (Tiffany Fillmore). Newcomers to Shakespeare may be those most charmed by the you-pick-the-period approach to his work.
PORGY AND BESS -- (By Washington National Opera at the Kennedy Center through Nov. 19)
The early death of George Gershwin -- from a brain tumor, at the age of 38 -- was nothing short of a calamity for American music. Here, if anywhere, was just the composer who might have united all of the strains that made up our fertile and wondrously polyglot mid-20th century musical culture -- jazz, blues, popular song, European classical stylings, modernist experimentation. This loving, sumptuous and creative mounting of Gershwin's most ambitious work should be seen and heard by anybody with an interest in our creative heritage, of course, while it also ought to win some new friends for opera in general. Nobody has ever mistaken "Porgy" for perfect opera, despite its great tunes, conducted here by Wayne Marshall. It is long; it is also a compendium of racial stereotypes. However, in director Francesca Zambello's production, the power and gravity of the story comes through.
-- Tim Page
PSYCHIC GHOST THEATRE -- (At Psychic Ghost Theatre through Dec. 31)
In the converted space of a building in Wheaton, Barry Taylor and partner Susan Kang levitate, float glasses and dice, pull a scarf through a pole, make a pigeon turn into confetti -- all within 15 feet of the audience. (Note that no one younger than 18 is admitted.) The opportunity to see magic done this close is a luxury. Psychic Ghost Theatre's show is in three parts. The first is a more or less straightforward exhibition of conjuring. The second is the re-creation of a 19th-century "spirit cabinet." The third is a seance, complete with Ouija board and maleficent spirit. Close as you're sitting, you can't catch any of the tricks.
-- Lloyd Rose
SHEAR MADNESS -- (At the Kennedy Center Theater Lab indefinitely)
This interactive murder mystery, set in a Georgetown beauty parlor, is a mechanical comedy featuring a gallery of obvious stereotypes and a bottomless barrel of bad jokes. I was stunned, not by the sheer badness of it, but by the blandness.
STRING FEVER -- (By Theater J at the DC Jewish Community Center through Nov. 27)
Sometimes, the calculus of love is as difficult to get a handle on as quantum physics. Lily (Melinda Wade), the heroine of Jacquelyn Reingold's sweet, brainy comedy, is 40 and single and anxious. But what should she do about it? Reingold tosses into her amusing romantic stew everything from etiquette to mortality, and the result is a gentle examination of issues prosaic as well as profound. Lily's gruff father (Conrad Feininger) is in the grips of a spirit-sapping divorce, while her best friend discovers that she has cancer. "String Fever" does not pretend to be groundbreaking, yet the playwright has enough of a way with words to give the 90-minute comedy a pleasant voice of its own. And the mixing in of science -- Lily's newest lover, a physicist, is an expert on string theory -- provides an engaging motif for Reingold's take on the chaos and randomness of the mating game. At times, Peg Denithorne's direction underlines an artificial quality in Reingold's storytelling. But Reingold fills the stage with refreshing musing about the ways we all struggle to string together lives, one challenging strand after another.
YOU ARE HERE -- (By Theatre Alliance at H Street Playhouse through Sunday)
Canadian playwright Daniel MacIvor has a flair for characterization and an ear for the comic idiosyncrasies of modern speech, and his ungainly novelistic canvas teems with chatty, wayward personalities. The play's protagonist is Alison, who MacIvor surrounds with a spectrum of lovers and colleagues and quirky incidental characters such as an expletive-prone gigolo and an arrogant publishing Brahmin. The interactions of this motley crew can be poignant and hilarious when matched with the kind of knockout acting in this American premiere production. Setting the tone is Jennifer Mendenhall's virtuoso rendition of Alison, a vulnerable journalist with wild mood swings. Under Gregg Henry's direction, the performances are delectable, but one can't help feeling that, overall, "You Are Here" amounts to less than the sum of its parts.