YEAR IN REVIEW: In 2019, there were over 1,000 articles on Phindie, Philadelphia’s popular theater arts portal, which were read at least 20 times each . . . the ones below were read many more times than that!
 
MOST POPULAR ARTICLES OF 2019
 
1. JOHNNY DEPP ​(Val Dunn & Jenna Kuerzi): A Valentine date with Late-stage Capitalism by Henrik Eger
12. A Welcome to the International Artists at the 2019 Philadelphia Fringe Festival by Henrik Eger
 
REVIEWS: These were the 10 most popular of the nearly 200 reviews we published in 2019.
 
1. JOHNNY DEPP (Val Dunn & Jenna Kuerzi): A Valentine date with late-stage capitalism by Henrik Eger
 
FEATURES: Long-form pieces on Philly arts and culture
 
5. A Welcome to the International Artists at the 2019 Philadelphia Fringe Festival by Henrik Eger
6. Presenting stronger new dramas by overcoming premieritis by Henrik Eger
 
INTERVIEWS: Speaking to the creators, the movers, and the shakers
 
6. “Passionate iconoclast and maverick”: Interview with Robert Smythe, Ahab in Hedgerow’s MOBY-DICK by Henrik Eger
 
FROM THE ARCHIVES: The most-read articles from years gone by.
 
4. Dinner for One: The greatest cult film you’ve never heard of by Henrik Eger
8. Remembering Joel Markowitz, founding editor of DC Metro Theater Arts by Henrik Eger
9. “I Can’t Kiss Myself Alone”: The Wit and  Retro style of Berlin’s Max Raabe and his Palast Orchester. Interview by Henrik Eger
 
Read the complete article, compiled by Christopher Munden, Phindie editor-in-chief, December 28, 2019.

Born in Charleston, West Virginia on May 25, 1950, Ann Crumb grew up in Pennsylvania. Trained as a speech and language pathologist, she started out as an actor with Pinter’s The Birthday Party, moving on to Shakespeare, Shepard, and Ionesco. After years of training with her vocal coach, Curtis Institute faculty member Bill Schuman, “one of the world’s leading teachers of singing,” she made it to Broadway as a member of the original cast of Les Misérables in 1987. 

Her other Broadway credits include Chess, and Anna Karenina, which led to a nomination for the Tony Award for Best Actress in a Musical in 1993. Crumb then starred opposite John Cullum in a US tour of Man of La Mancha in 1995. She also toured as the star in Evita. 

Aware of Crumb’s enormous musical and dramatic talents, Cameron Mackintosh, “widely considered to be the most successful theatrical producer of all-time” (Best of Theatre), and Andrew Lloyd Webber, the world’s most popular composer of musicals, personally chose Crumb to play the starring role of Rose Vibert in Webber’s Aspects of Love (musical excerpts with Ann Crumb and Michael Ball), which she originated in both London and on Broadway, opposite Michael Ball—solidifying her status as an American diva. 

Her recordings include A Broadway Diva Swings, a concert version of Nine with Jonathan Pryce and Elaine Paige, and Unto the Hills, in collaboration with her father. Her forthcoming jazz CD is entitled Goodbye Mr. Jones.

This article was originally published by Phindie on December 28, 2019. 

This Quintessence Theatre Group production at the Sedgwick Theater begins with a darkened stage, hauntingly beautiful music that conjures up Ireland, and then, for one second, we see a figure, frozen in time. Lights out. Another second, another man. In a fast sequence of stills, split-seconds of light followed by darkness (lighting design by John Burkland), we witness a Cain-and-Abel-like scene, except it’s a young son who kills his father with a loy (“small spade with a long handle, usually used for the digging of potatoes”).

Having just witnessed a murder most foul, we see young Christy Mahon—(Brandon Walters, discovered at an audition in NYC, who can change moods and stories within seconds)—dirty, disheveled, and anxious, staggering into Michael Flaherty’s tavern.

Asked what he means in some of his many poetic scenes, Synge stated in a letter: “I follow Goethe’s rule, to tell no one what one means in one’s writings” (quoted in “Resisting the Irish Other: The Berliner Ensemble’s Production of The Playboy of the Western World” by David Barnett, New Theatre Quarterly, 33:2 (2017), pp. 156-68).
 
 In its new season, Quintessence went all out with a detailed program covering four plays by Synge which they are performing this season, starting with The Playboy of the Western World, followed by The Synge Triptych, with Riders to the Sea, In the Shadow of the Glen, and The Tinker’s Wedding.
 
In his plays, over 100 years ago, Synge used language poetically and integrated Irish terms that many of us might not know.

In another example of Synge’s poetic language, Christy tells his gruesome story in a most lyrical way: “‘God have mercy on your soul,’ says he, lifting a scythe. ‘Or on your own,’ says I, raising the loy.”

The stories of the young outlaw keep the father and his daughter Pegeen awestruck. The more interested his hosts become, the more the fellow on the run senses an opportunity to start a new life, perhaps working at the pub, drinking beer all day long, and marrying Pegeen. Soon, he loses all sense of remorse.

Within no time, word gets around that a “queer fellow” has arrived, and villagers fill up the tavern. All of them obsessed with the mysterious stranger, wanting to know all his secrets. Seeing the young man alone, the Widow Quinn—(Megan McDermott, convincing as the beguiling seductress one moment, demanding and forceful the next)—sneaks into the pub, uninvited, to make her claim on him, but fails to convince Christy to live with her in spite of her bold advances.

Frequently, she shifts her movements through a myriad of gestures, executed with the precision of fully trained facial muscles. A poor country woman who lives out all her hopes, her fears—it is as if all the peasant women around the world had been her ancestors. Just watching her is worth the price of an annual subscription to the Quintessence Theatre. 

With an even larger audience, Christy Mahon climbs up onto the bar like Elvis Presley with young groupies showering him with applause, gifts, and endless admiration—as if he were the Second Coming.
 
The rapture climaxes with the young hero, standing high up on the bar, exhausted from telling all his tall tales and interacting with his enthusiastic new disciples, with the young women throwing kisses at him, trying to touch him. But only one villager, a young man, also in love with Christy, has the nerve to do just that:
 
Honor Blake—(Daniel Miller, one of the hunkiest actors for miles)—takes the hero by his waist, lifts him up, face to face, and then slowly, very slowly, slides Christy’s body down his own body. Stunned, the audience screamed, gasped, and laughed.

Shawn Keogh—(Christopher Morriss, who looks like an Italian TV star playing the role of the straight-laced second cousin of Pegeen)—is in love with the innkeeper’s daughter, whom he wants to marry, once he gets dispensation from the local priest to marry his blood relative. However, Pegeen is not terribly interested in him because at the slightest provocation he goes running to the local priest, never standing up for himself or others—except when he realizes that the queer stranger, according to rumors, wants to marry Flaherty’s daughter.
 
Frightened and yet willing to persuade his shabbily-dressed rival to leave for good, Shawn shows backbone when he tries to bribe Christy, first by offering to give him a ticket on a ferry to America. Anxious to make the deal, he then takes off his expensive tweed jacket—(costume designer Summer Lee Jack).
 
Sitting on the floor of the pub, he then takes off his fine leather shoes, and then he slowly pulls off his trousers, sitting half-naked on the stage—to the delight of the make-believe murderer, who accepts all the gifts with a sneer. Now well-dressed, Christy is only more determined to marry Pegeen.

Suddenly, Christy’s father, angry Old Mahon, with a frightening gash covering his entire skull, still blood-red—(makeup special effects artist Mandah K. Law)—arrives in the village, searching for his son who almost killed him. They clash again, first with a verbal round, leading to a deadly violent physical fight—(powerfully choreographed by J. Alex Cordaro)—bringing back the opening freeze-scenes.
 
Seeing his angry father brings up old power and control issues. Losing his temper again, Christy brutally attacks his father one more time, killing him. Christy realizes that with his renewed attempt to kill his father with the loy, the tide has turned against him.
 
Outraged, the same people who had previously praised Christy for all his mysterious and titillating stories about murder, now turn against him and try to hang him with a thick, long rope. Even Pegeen, who was ready to marry him, now sees him as a liar and a manipulator. She declares, “There's a great gap between a gallous [wicked] story and a dirty deed.” 

Seconds before Christy can take his last breath, Old Mahon returns. The terrible gash on his head as frightening as before, he staggers in, his face covered in blood. After a final power struggle between father and son, won by the audacious short fellow, both leave the village for good to wander the world. Feeling alone and deserted, Pegeen regrets the chain of events: "I've lost the only playboy of the western world."

Synge’s poetry flows from the lips of the most experienced actors as if they had lived in Ireland all their lives (dialect coach Sonja Field), while some younger actors sound as if they had only recently kissed the Blarney Stone.
 
Burns’ work as a director brims with originality that seems to know no bounds, even though he meticulously follows the text, down to the minutest details. For example, Synge wanted Christy—the “queer fellow” with the capacity to tell tall tales and tower over everyone else—to be short and come with small feet, thus underscoring the struggle of a young man who wanted to be bigger than he really was.
 
Consequently, Burns searched for the young hero among the best actors in Philadelphia and New York, and eventually, at an audition in the Big Apple, he found the talented short protagonist:

Brandon Walters as Christy Mahon came with the lively spirit of an Irish character who can tell tall tales so convincingly and changing his mood so quickly that the young folks in the village followed him like a pied piper, hanging on every word that came out of his mouth, observing every movement of his body with lust and desire. In short, he looked like a handsome, dirty blond, seductive Puck.
 
In productions directed by Burns, we get to see great actors of all ages and backgrounds. In this case, they seem to come straight out of a medieval village, in spite of their jeans. Burns is not afraid of showing human love and eroticism, often in vignettes that one cannot forget. 

No matter when and where a story takes place, director Burns integrates one or more people of color into his shows, as in this production. His casting makes us aware of the wide range of human experiences where “black” is more than a skin color, where “black” is not an outsider, but very much part of the rainbow of life—even though purists may insist on productions that strictly follow a playwright’s gender and ethnicity-prescribed roles. 

Quintessence Theatre Group—Philadelphia’s 18th Actors’ Equity theater and one of the few repertory theaters in the Greater Philadelphia area—frequently dares to present new perspectives through their productions, whether directed by Burns, the founding artistic director, or by guest directors like Rebecca Wright.
 
The final moments of the Quintessence production hit me hard when something unexpected happened on the stage that I will remember for a long time to come. Blindingly-bright lights hit a gigantic American flag that covered the entire back of the theater, with the stage in darkness. Flashlights, like searchlights, allowed me to see only a lonely figure coming forward. 

A few seconds later, a second man arrived on the darkened stage: his much-taller father, Old Mahon, carrying their only suitcase—walking slowly into an unsafe and unpredictable new world for refugees.
 
Then all the Irish characters came up on the stage. The Quintessence ensemble took a bow. My joy mixed with tears, because I suddenly became aware again of the oppression that the Irish had endured for a long time under brutal British rule, and the harsh treatment of desperate refugees arriving at the U.S. borders in our own time.
 
I drove home, thinking about Ireland and frightened immigrants, and all the things we had experienced that night at the Sedgwick Theater. 

This review was originally published by Phindie on October 17, 2019. 

Most theater productions will never become available again, no matter how great the quality, because of copyright and technical reasons. However, theater critics around the world are leaving behind a written, often detailed record, as witnessed by the articles on The Theatre Times. Frequently illustrated, these theater reviews—ranging from sketchy to thorough—bring back descriptions of works on live stages for everyone, now and in the future.

Coming from Europe, my perceptions of life were shaped by a wide range of European and American playwrights. Now living in the U.S., I noticed the occasional denigration of American culture by Americans, who seem to favor European works the way the ruling class in Czarist Russia and Poland spoke French or Germaninstead of Russian or Polish as if their mother tongues were inferior to the foreign culture-associated languages they adopted.
​
It’s against this background that I would like to honor the work of one of our most thorough theater critics in Philadelphia, J. Cooper Robb, who unfortunately passed away recently, with this Open Letter to my late colleague about a subject that I wanted to discuss with him, except that I discovered this controversial topic of perceived “inferiority” only now while reading every single one of his many theater articles online—alas, too late for his personal response.

Dear Cooper,

I always liked reading your articles. They differ from the majority of regular theater reviews. You often went further and presented holistic views of the theater world—something I valued, let alone your immense knowledge of the theater and the people who make it all happen.
​
I appreciate this wonderful write-up about your life in the Philadelphia Inquirer. As soon as I learned that you had left us for good, I searched the Internet and read every article of yours I could find, including all your regular submissions to TheaterMania: what a treasure, ranging from 2001 to 2011. I certainly miss your previews and especially your theater essays.

Cooper, I regret that I did not have the opportunity 16 years ago to read an article of yours in which you got pretty tough on “certain critics”:

“Demeaning the American theater is something of a parlor game among certain critics, who point to the theatrically rich cultures of Ireland, Germany, and England as proof of the United States’s inferiority in this area.” (TheaterMania, Jan. 14, 2003)

Frankly, I never met anyone who made such a claim, even though I wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps some other theater critics might respond in detail to your concern that certain Americans might value European theater at the expense of American theater.

However, I am aware that quite a few Americans who travel to Europe at times seem to take on a touristy perspective, which tends to favor Europe’s old culture over America’s modern civilization—a situation that quickly can lead to a “Touristic Bias: Why Americans Overrate Europe, and Europeans Underrate America.”

Similarly, Operavore of WQXR, New York Public Radio, asked, “Can America Keep Pace With European Opera?” Another search reveals that much has been written about “What differentiates Europeans from Americans: the cultural gap across the Atlantic.”​

Just one telling example: The much-talked-about Christopher Shinn, a U.S. playwright, and director who made major breakthroughs at London’s Royal Court Theatre, succinctly described some of the main differences between responses to new plays by actors and directors in New York and London in the Guardian:

“New York actors and directors are much more directly critical of a new play in rehearsals than London actors and directors are. In London, I cannot remember a single moment when an actor openly criticized–even implicitly–my text. Any note a director gave me was given privately, quietly and tentatively.”
​
Cooper, I have come to the conclusion that you were more cosmopolitan than you might have realized. You presented drama from all over America, Africa, Asia, andEurope in thoughtful and caring ways.

MAKING IT BIG:

“The Philadelphia Theatre Company is producing the first family production in their history with their staging of storyteller David Gonzalez’s The Frog Bride. For this contemporary adaptation of an old Russian fairy tale, Gonzalez employs a jazz-funk score and video projections to bring a modern slant on the classic coming-of-age story about a prince who goes in search of a wife and instead returns with a frog.” (Nov. 30, 2006)

SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL:

Cirque du Soleil’s Alegria returns to Philly at Temple University’s Liacouras Center. Visually dazzling (Dominique Lemieux’s costumes are a sight to behold), the show’s new “arena” staging includes two especially wondrous acts: the breathtaking aerial ballet “Russian Bars” and the fast-paced “Power Track,” in which a group of athletic tumblers perform daring routines on a trapeze [. . .]. (September 30, 2009)

A DIFFERENT DREAM:

Hedgerow Theatre continues their summer tradition of presenting a farce from Brit playwright Ray Cooney with the theater’s production of Cooney’s Chase Me, Comrade! Inspired by the defection of Russian ballet star Rudolph Nureyev, the story follows a Russian dancer who seeks refuge with a British government official. Featuring Cooney’s usual frenzied pacing, the play is a madcap romp of mistaken identity and barely controlled chaos. (July 31, 2010)

SOUTH CENTRAL:
​
Lantern Theater opens their season with Anton Chekhov’s classic tragicomedy Uncle Vanya. The story focuses on the long held resentments and secret longings among the members of a Russian family who are reunited at their once glorious pastoral family estate. In conjunction with their production, Lantern hosts a mini Chekhov Festival with special pre-show performances of the playwright’s short farces, as well as discussions with Chekhov scholars and even a Russian themed dinner party. (October 31, 2010)

Do American theater critics carry a bias in favor of European drama over U.S. drama? Some may, most others probably do not. You reported about theater by European playwrights or European-based plays with the same balance as you reported about American theater—and I want to thank you. I’m sure many of your readers felt good about your work as they could trust your assessments and buy tickets to shows you had recommended with confidence.

Cooper, I salute you for all you’ve done for the theater world in general and the many Philadelphia stages in particular and wish you Bon Voyage on your journey into timelessness.
​
I shall miss your writing.

​ Cooper Robb, an immensely knowledgeable and prolific American theater critic, who recently passed away, left behind many articles, especially in Backstage Magazine and TheaterMania, filled to the brim with facts and insights about contemporary theater. It includes a rare interview with Czech-born British playwright, Sir Tom Stoppard.

The Wilma, as it’s affectionately called in Philadelphia, brought more European and more experimental theater to the city of brotherly love than any other company, winning numerous Barrymore awards, the Philadelphia equivalent of the Tony awards in New York.This husband and wife team, two theater producers and directors—refugees from (then) Czechoslovakia—stunned the city with one innovative production after another. They presented more Tom Stoppard plays than any other theater in the US, thanks to the friendship of the Zizkas with the playwright.

Robb: Once you talked to (Russian dissident) Victor Fainberg, it all sort of came together for you?

Stoppard: Yes, Victor and other people. I was marginally involved with various activities, which were concerned with the incarceration of Russian citizens in mental hospitals.

As a matter of interest, I’ve just written a play about Russians in the 19th century (The Coast of Utopia) and, in researching that play, I’ve discovered that the practice of calling a dissident mad had this precedent in the 1830s and wasn’t invented by the Soviets. However, the Soviets put it into general use and that practice took on a much crueler form in the U.S.S.R. with quite a number of instances of people like Victor being put into asylums.

Robb: Did The Coast of Utopia change your perception of Every Good Boy?

Stoppard: Yes, in the sense it gives you a deeper understanding of where dissent came from. It’s interesting to follow the story of dissent right through to Lenin. I think Lenin was born the year that Alexander Herzen died, Herzen being the main character in The Coast of Utopia.

Robb: Every Good Boy features one of your most musical texts. Was that a conscious decision?
​
Stoppard: I can’t claim to have made a conscious effort to make it more musical. I write the way I write pretty much whatever I’m doing, though of course the subject and tone changes. I remember that it was very difficult to do it at all until I began, and then I did it quite quickly. André played me some piano parts, though I didn’t know essentially what (the music was) until the orchestra started rehearsing, and then it was, of course, very exciting for me.

I also remember that the orchestra (the London Symphony) initially was not thrilled with these actors colonizing their space. They hadn’t been involved with anything like it. This was real theatre with three acting areas and a dramatic momentum involving half-a-dozen actors.

Trevor Nunn made this brilliant choice to begin (rehearsals) by letting the orchestra sit as an audience while the actors performed the play without music. The orchestra liked what the actors were doing, and from that moment they became wonderfully cooperative and enthusiastic. People who were formerly wondering if they could play the violin with three inches less space were suddenly volunteering to move chairs to help out an actor. It was very touching.

Robb: The play describes Alexander [Ivanov, a political dissenter, imprisoned in a Soviet mental hospital, who won’t be released until he admits that his (non-existent) mental disorder made him make accusations against the government] as a discordant note. Do you think there are too few discordant notes being heard in the United States and England?

Stoppard: I think it’s more important to note that discordant notes are part of the social and political system here [in the West]; it’s not something that gets you put in jail.

At the time I was writing Every Good Boy, I think the point I really wanted to make was that although things went wrong in the West and freedom was not perfect, and there were certainly abuses occurring, when you contrast them, you find that what is an abuse of the system in the West was a system in perfect order in the East. I would say that if I had a self-conscious message, that was it.

But the play conducts itself on the level of a black comedy, which is very frequently the response of the real dissidents, the ones who are getting it in the neck.

Robb: You obviously have a special rapport with the Wilma. Could you describe your relationship with the artistic directors, Jiri, and Blanka Zizka?

Stoppard: The Wilma is one of the very few theatres in America where I have a friendly, personal relationship. Essentially, from the time I met them at a theatre conference, I admired them. I admired the way they ran their theatre, their policy. I don’t mean doing the plays of Tom Stoppard, but I like their policy of doing new work.

And I like the fact that they’re successful, in the sense that they have a very dedicated constituency around them. And believe me, you have to earn that.
​
*For the complete interview, originally published by Backstage Magazine, click here.

**For the companion article about the work of an important American theater writer, click this link to “Perceptions of each other’s cultures: An Open Letter to theater critic and educator J. Cooper Robb.”

“I spring from ministers, murderers, rebels, addicts, closeted queens, soldiers, singers, and blue-collar mill workers.”

This confession opens playwright Gabriel Jason Dean’s artistic statement. It ends with this vision, “Though my subjects are sometimes provocative, I don’t see myself as a provocateur, but instead as an architect of questions. [. . .] As theatre-goer and writer, I crave transformative work that gnaws at my bones for life.”
 
How can one resist such a vision?
 
Dean’s revelations inspired me to explore his much talked about drama, Heartland, which takes place in Afghanistan and the U.S. Having taught at a university in neighboring Iran, I was impressed by the expansive knowledge of Islamic culture and modes of Afghan intercultural interactions that enriched his play culturally. 

​Set in both the U.S. and in war-torn Afghanistan, Heartland shows Harold, an American professor, now growing toward senility. He gets visited by Nazrullah (Naz), his adopted daughter’s Afghan boyfriend, a young mathematics teacher, whom she [Geetee] fell in love with while they were both teaching in their country of birth.
 
Through flashbacks, we see the young American woman trying to adapt to life in a Muslim society, while her boyfriend tries to absorb as many Western values as he can without giving up his Islamic beliefs.
 
Heartland shows the dilemma of good intentions on both sides of the ideological divide leading to major problems. The professor helped write CIA-created, pro-Jihad textbooks to fight the invading Russian forces that led to the brainwashing and the subsequent death of many young Afghans. 

A generation later, the Muslim teacher, very much in love, took a Polaroid photo of the Afghan-American woman that got into the hands of his uncle, who killed her. The young Afghan devotes his life to supporting the deteriorating father of his girlfriend in the U.S.—with a most unexpected ending.
 
The excitement of the action—moving from one culture to the other, heightened by the frequent use of Dari—left the audience enthralled. One of the secrets of this moving and eye-opening drama? Dean, an experienced and successful playwright who almost always works with a dramaturg, had listened closely to his cultural consultant, Afghan-born Humaira Ghilzai. Her work extends beyond just making sure things are culturally authentic. He co-operated with her practically from the beginning, marrying her intimate cultural knowledge with his dramatic talents. 

​No matter how experienced American playwrights, if they write about characters in another culture, such as presenting life in Afghanistan, a traditional Islamic society—they need more knowledge and research than many a play based in the U.S.
 
Hollywood, with significantly more money available than the theater world, tends to hire the best experts to advise a writer on every nuance of another culture. Unfortunately, not everyone can afford working intensively with a cultural consultant. Dean, while a Hodder Fellow at Princeton University, won their $83,000 grant and, out of that fund, hired Afghan cultural consultant Humaira Ghilzai to work closely with her throughout the evolution of the script and all four world premieres—a kind of cultural rug weaving.

​1. To strengthen a pivotal scene, Dean needed to find out details about the infamous CIA propaganda school books for Afghan high school kids that, after the defeat of the Russians, had fallen out of favor. These English-language schoolbooks had been used to turn young Afghans into a kind of underground resistance group to go all out fighting the occupying Russian forces—leading to many deaths in Afghan families. Through her connections, Ghilzai actually found original copies of the CIA textbooks in Kabul. Dean, supported by the evidence, integrated references to those books into his play and showed the disastrous consequences that impacted the lives of all three of his characters.
 
2. Ghilzai became a bridge-builder between the playwright’s way of expressing something in English and the way Afghans would speak. She would offer several alternatives. After lengthy discussions, Dean would re-write the dialogues to make them even more authentic and natural.
 
3. To help non-native speakers of Dari, Ghilzai also created all of the Dari transliterations so that the actors could pronounce them easily.
 
4. During each of the four world premieres in the U.S., she coached accent, posture, and helped with costuming choices.

In a recent interview, Ghilzai presented her way of working with playwrights and people in the theater arts world and with Dean, in particular:
 
“In theatre consulting or any consulting project [. . .] you don't give your opinion, you don't move your own agenda; you help the client fulfill their goals. [. . .] my job is to bring cultural authenticity to their vision. [. . .] My job is not to censor anything.”
 
“[. . .] my job is first to set a scene for the world we’re portraying, and then I go on to help the costume designer, set designer, music artists, and cast create that world accurately.”
 
“We did everything by email and phone until maybe a year ago when we first did a Skype call and we met each other face-to-face.”
 
“Gabe [. . .] was very collaborative and he not only sought my input but really tried to understand more about the culture on his own. I would throw out ideas [. . .] and [. . .] we would discuss [them], and then it was up to him to decide if he wanted it in his play.”
 
“Once in a while, I'd see him throw in a line that was a little bit of an inside cultural joke, which showed to me that he really got Afghanistan and its people.”

Henrik: Overall, there seems to be a tendency in U.S. theater to focus mainly on themes and characters from an Anglo-American perspective. What made you look way beyond U.S. borders and probe deep into the heart of conflicted characters, here and abroad?
 
Gabriel: Ultimately, this story is an examination of what it means to be an American. I am obsessed with that subject. I am interested in the stories we don’t tell and why. We have a history that we must face, warts and all, and the play puts a small part of that history forward.
 
So, I went where the story demanded, and I did the research and hired Humaira to help me make sure that what I was presenting was accurate. I think it is wrong-headed to believe that any writer can and should only write about their own specific identity.
 
Henrik: None of the traditional ranking of  The 10 most important American [most widely performed] plays deal with anything outside this country. How could American playwrights tackle subjects that deal with another culture sensitively and authentically?
 
Gabriel: As writers we ought to be able to write about anything that sets us on fire. However, if the subject is outside our own experience, then we must do the research to the point of exhaustion—but there is only so much research one can do. Having one or more collaborators who have “lived experience” of the culture and of the place is extremely important when writing outside our own lived experience.  
                                                                                                                                                             
Henrik: Tell us about the development of Heartland, especially the input of the PlayPenn directors, the creative team, and the actors who stage-read your version in Philadelphia two years ago.
                                                                         
Gabriel: The play has grown immensely since the PlayPenn draft, and much of that growth was a result of the time I spent on it at PlayPenn with director Ed Sobel and dramaturg Kittson O’Neill. When I came to PlayPenn [new playwrights, see “Everything you always wanted to know about PlayPenn, but were afraid to ask”], I was still searching for the beating heart of this play, and through many rewrites while there, I found it.
 
Henrik: Once you finished your PlayPenn version, a number of theaters showed great interest in Heartland and, eventually, began premiering it.
 
Gabriel: I went on to continue to work on it through development with director Pirronne Yousefzadeh and Geva Theatre Center. I then shaped it further in anticipation of the first production of the National New Play Network Rolling World Premiere.
 
Henrik: I rarely, if ever, heard from writers about the impact of cultural consultants on their work. You seem to be one of the few playwrights willing to address this issue.
 
Gabriel: Thank you. Humaira, my collaborator throughout all of the many iterations, shaped the Afghan authenticity of this play tremendously.
 
Henrik: I saw the first and second staged-reading version of Heartland and loved them. However, now it has grown even further into a world-class drama. What were the main changes you made since those PlayPenn days, in addition to the four intercultural items (above) that you and your Afghan consultant had worked on?
 
Gabriel: First, I changed the character of Geetee from Greta—a domestically adopted daughter. My original impulse was to make Geetee Afghan, but I pulled away from that, because the Western concept of adoption is not something that actually exists in Afghanistan. But it simply wasn’t working for the story or the character, and so I endeavored to figure out a way that could make feasible her adoption by Harold [the U.S. professor who accepted the task of writing the English textbooks that would encourage Afghan students to fight the Russians].
 
What I actually settled on connected my characters even more to the CIA-commissioned textbooks.
 
I also removed all potential associations of Nazrullah to the Taliban. It became increasingly clear to me that I didn’t want him to even remotely be considered a terrorist in the audience’s mind. In the PlayPenn version, his uncle was affiliated with the Taliban, which made Naz affiliated by association. In the version you saw at Interact Theatre Company, his uncle Bashir is simply described as motahasib, or “traditional.”
 
Henrik: Which Heartland scene grabbed you the most?

Gabriel: The scene that I knew would exist from the beginning would be the final scene with Harold [the aging atheist] and Naz [the young Muslim] praying together. I knew I wanted to show some kind of complex love and understanding between the two men.
 
The rest of the play gets us to that point. I’m not as interested in characters who tear each other apart.
 
Henrik: Most characters from the Islamic world in American drama and film get portrayed as rather one-sided, often unsavory, and dangerous characters. What did you do to avoid stereotypes, in addition to working with your cultural consultant?
 
Gabriel: One of the goals of this play early on was that I wanted to write a good Afghan character: somebody who was good at heart, flawed in the way that we all are flawed, but decidedly not a terrorist. Someone who had a healthy relationship with Islam. Not someone who was a victim and felt completely downtrodden. So, the character of Nazrullah was born in rebellion to a lot of Muslim characters that I've seen portrayed in other plays. That was very important to me.
 
Then I thought, “Wait, am I doing this out of some White Saviorism?” I worried about that. I worried Naz was too good at times. But now, having thoroughly developed this play and this character and having seen the effect Nazrullah has on Muslim audience members, I think I’ve done the right thing.  
 
Henrik: With the help of your Afghan consultant, you managed to reduce the lengthy final prayer of mourning while keeping the scene’s Islamic authenticity intact. As a result, we experienced deeply moving moments that had many of us in tears.
 
Gabriel: We used a shorter version of Fajr [the first of the five daily prayers], one that might be spoken by a recent convert. We opted to do only one rakat [the prescribed movements and words followed by Muslims while offering prayers] for the sake of theatrical timing. I never would’ve been comfortable making that choice on my own without Humaira’s input and that of several other Muslims.
 
In the Philly production, Yousuf Sultani, who is Afghan and was raised in a Muslim household, was doing a version of the prayer that was most comfortable for him. In instances like this, I defer and get out of the way to let those who know it firsthand show me.

Henrik: Having taken the Afghan hurdles with your cultural consultant, what did you experience with American producers?
 
Gabriel: So many people have wanted more “drama” from this play—literally more bombs, more allusion to the conflict happening around Geetee and Naz—but I find that critique of the play intellectually and emotionally disappointing. I’m just not interested in that kind of play here. This is a quiet story about what is unsaid.
 
I had numerous meetings and calls with producers—all older white men, I might add—who desired that the play have more bombs and war. Those were challenging moments, but ultimately, I didn’t submit to that view of the play. I just waited for the right producers to come along.
 
Henrik: What would you say to directors and producers to help them overcome their concerns?
 
Gabriel: I often hear that this play is difficult to cast. Let me assure you, potential producer, it is not! After five productions and audition processes, I have a large list of excellent potential Nazrullahs and Geetees.
 
And producers often fret about the frequent use of the Dari language in the play. Rest assured, I have pronunciation recordings that are available for use.   
 
Henrik: I think so highly of Heartland that I would like to see it translated and performed abroad to open up hearts and minds around the globe, including the Islamic world—whether as a play or as an international film, which could become available to many more people, irrespective of external and cultural borders and restraints.
 
Gabriel: I would love to see all of that happen as well! From your mouth to god’s ear.

Gabriel: For example, at Geva Theatre, they bussed in high school kids to come see it. I remember being there after one of the matinees, and one of the students, a young boy, came up and said, “Thank you. This is great. I've never seen a guy like that on stage."
 
He was talking about Naz, you know? Because every time this kid sees somebody who looks like him on stage, on film, or on TV, they're not playing a character like this. I was like, “Okay, mission accomplished. My job here is done.” I love the character of Nazrullah. I love him so much.
 
At a talkback at InterAct, an Afghan man in the audience said the play was a true representation of Afghanistan and that he wished more work like this existed in the world. He told us all his story:

He walked nearly 2,000 miles to escape the Russians when they invaded in 1979. Eventually, he came to the U.S. as a refugee—something he couldn’t do today. He is now a doctor living in New Jersey. I hope more people like him get to see this play.
 
Henrik: Gabriel jan*, tashakor, many thanks.
 
*Jan (Persian: جان‎) or Jaan is a Persian word originally meaning “life" and “soul," also used as a name with extended meanings like “dear" or “my friend.”

Dean’s plays include In Bloom, Qualities of Starlight, Terminus, The Transition of Doodle Pequeño, and Heartland. He also authored books and lyrics for the musicals Mario & the Comet and Our New Town. His screenplays include Pigskin and D'Angelico.
 
Dean’s scripts are published through Samuel French, Dramatic Publishing, and Playscripts. He is on faculty for Spalding University and Visiting Writer in Residence at Muhlenberg College. MFA: University of Texas-Austin, Michener Center for Writers. He grew up in Chatsworth, GA, and currently lives in Brooklyn, NY.

To follow playwright Gabriel Jason Dean, visit his website at www.gabrieljasondean.com.
 
For more information on Humaira Ghilzai’s work as an Afghanistan Cultural Consultant, visit her website at www.humairaghilzai.com. To learn more about Afghan Friends Network, check out www.afghanfriends.net.

Ibrahim Miari, son of a Palestinian Muslim father and Jewish Israeli mother, grew up in Israel, became an actor, a playwright, a Sufi dancer, and an educator who now lives in the US.

His one-man drama, In Between—directed by the much-talked-about Elena Araoz, who works internationally—presents intermarriage and growing up in two cultures against all odds.

This drama became so successful that it toured internationally, including Germany, Austria, Ukraine, and the U.S. Ibrahim’s suitcase, filled with numerous props, including a giant hand puppet, makes countless scenes from his life come alive through his extraordinary capacity to act many different roles—including Ibrahim as a little boy, his old grandmother, and an Israeli airport interrogator.

​AVRAHAM AND IBRAHIM: BECOMING AWARE OF DIFFERENT IDENTITIES

Henrik Eger: When was the first time you realized you liked acting?

Ibrahim Miari: My whole life I knew that I wanted to be an actor. I was the one in my family who did impersonations and made people laugh. I was always chosen at school for class theater plays. My first memory on stage was second grade—Mother’s Day. I was pulled up to the stage to dance to a well-known jingle. When I saw the entire school in front of me cheering, I felt I was home.

Henrik: You grew up in Israel as the son of a Palestinian Muslim father and a Jewish Israeli mother in a country that is not exactly famous for treating Palestinians with respect. Could you give an example of a tough moment where you were made aware that you are a Palestinian?

Ibrahim Miari: I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood. We were one of two Arab families in that area. I was sent to a Jewish kindergarten at first, and there was mutual respect between all neighbors, mostly of Middle Eastern backgrounds—Moroccan, Libyan, Tunisian, Egyptian, etc.—alongside some Ashkenazi families.

I was lucky enough to grow up with children my age where we shared various activities, including Jewish traditions, like building Sukkah. I never felt marginalized in my early childhood. However, I remember an incident: after I helped my neighbors build a Sukkah, I was told by one of the more religious peers not to enter it because I was not Jewish.

Henrik: You were born “Avraham” in Acco, Israel, and attended Jewish school until the age of seven. At eight years old, your name was changed to the Arabic spelling, “Ibrahim,” and you were enrolled at an Arabic School where Israeli Independence Day is commemorated as “Nakba Day,” or the “Day of the Catastrophe.”

Ibrahim: I address this topic in my play. From an Israeli viewpoint, a national celebration day for Jewish people made sense to me. However, the contradictions and ironies of this day only made sense to me later on in my adult life, especially as in Israel, 20 percent of the population are native Palestinians. You cannot escape the celebrations and the fireworks by the Israelis. It has become even more ridiculous with state laws preventing people from waving Palestinian flags, acknowledging the catastrophic day, or allowing the schools to teach about Palestinian history.

Henrik: Similarly, could you give an example of a tough moment for you as an Israeli?

Ibrahim: If you are a Palestinian/Israeli citizen, there is no such thing as “a Palestinian” or “an Israeli,” as we all share common realities. Yet, the more I interacted with Palestinians at peace camps from the West Bank and East Jerusalem in the United States, the more I became aware of my privilege as an Israeli citizen.

Henrik: You grew up in the theater world and studied and worked with the Acco Theatre Center’s Actor Training Program in Israel for twelve years. What were the main influences on your life from those experiences?

Ibrahim: I have been involved in creating theater connected to the Middle East conflict, and in many ways have protested against the dominant norms of society through the arts. While working with Acco Theater Center as a member of an ensemble, we created many shows that addressed injustices, like the play Arab Dream.

​Later, I wrote and directed a play called Private Moment about a Ukrainian actress who married an Arab citizen of Israel. She first lived in an Arab Village, then moved to the city and interacted with Jewish people. The play reflected how she experienced both cultures and all stereotypes she had to endure from both sides.

​SUFI DANCE, SUFI PHILOSOPHY—MAKING COMPASSIONATE CHOICES 

Henrik: Having been brought up with both Islam and Judaism, what drew you to the Sufi religion, philosophy, and practice—especially through dance?

Ibrahim: I was attracted to the Sufi dance first and then Sufi philosophy. I was introduced to different meditations, especially sacred dances, even though I do not consider myself a devoted Sufi. However, it had a big impact on me as a person and as an artist, because meditation teaches us to become mindful and aware of our judgments and negative cycles and patterns. Once I became aware, I started practicing more mindfulness. I also created a space for making more compassionate choices. 

Henrik: What inspired you to perform in a Sufi mode and direct several drama programs in peace camps in Canada and the United States with Israeli and Palestinian high-schoolers?
​
Ibrahim: As I am fluent in both Arabic and Hebrew and familiar with both cultures, working at these camps felt like the right and natural thing to do. I believe in sharing personal stories.

To quote an old saying, “An enemy is someone whose story you don’t know.” Aware of this insight, I made it my mission to help cultivate a culture of mutual listening and understanding. We can eliminate a lot of the stereotypes and prejudices when we search for common ground.

In many of those camps in the U.S. or Canada, Palestinian and Israeli youth meet each other for the first time—often leading to friendship and new insights. However, the participants also realize that they live only a few miles from one another in the Middle East, but interactions among them are difficult, prohibited, or impossible.

LEAVING THE MIDDLE EAST, GROWING NEW ROOTS IN THE U.S. 

Henrik: What made you leave Israel and move to the U.S.?

Ibrahim: I met my wife at one of the peace camps. If it wasn’t for her, I would have moved to Germany because at that time I had a contract to work with a German theater company. However, I chose love, which led to starting a family, and my Master’s degree in theater.

As an educator, I was always intrigued by international collaborations, learning more about other cultures, and expanding my perspectives and knowledge of the world through the arts. I never intended to leave Israel. However, I had blessings from both my family and my theater community to leave home for the U.S.

Henrik: Did you experience any culture shock in the U.S.?

Ibrahim: The culture shock for me came through language. My English was all right, but I had to further my linguistic skills to better express myself. Even though I improved a lot—having an accent, I still feel limited in the U.S.

Henrik: Could you give some examples from your life that inspired you to write the semi-autobiographical drama In Between?

Ibrahim: For over a decade, I have been involved in creating theater connected to the Middle East conflict, and in many ways have protested against the dominant norms of society through the arts. However, I have always felt the need to go deeper, beyond the political, to the personal life stories that express authentic feelings and offer an opportunity for connection and understanding.

The process of creating In Between has been a dynamic one. What began as a series of vignettes about my parents and my childhood in Israel took a new shape with the intrusion of two realities in my own life.
​
First, an incident in which I was held up in Israel for hours at airport security and interrogated about my identity. Second, a rather more welcome intrusion, the planning, and preparation for my wedding, another process in which my identity created the impetus for many conversations and negotiations.

IN BETWEEN, A ONE-MAN DRAMA

Henrik: Your thought-provoking play In Between traces your evolution as a bridge-builder between different cultures and religions. You did not shy away from presenting a shocking experience with an interrogator at an Israeli airport and how it impacted you.

​Ibrahim: Having flown in and out of Israel many times during the last 20 years, I know what to expect every time I approach the airport. It has not gotten any easier.

On one occasion, I had come to the airport directly from my Jewish cousin’s wedding in Tel Aviv. The security guards were puzzled: I was originally from Acco; I studied in Boston; my parents had an interfaith marriage; I was a Muslim; and I had just come from my Jewish cousin’s wedding with henna on my hands? The officials actually said, “When you say cousin do you mean, cousin blood relative, or, Arab and Jewish cousins?” They did not release me until the last minute, making everyone wait for me. And no, I rarely make it to a Duty-Free.

Henrik: You developed In Between in 2009, premiered it in Boston, USA, in 2012, updated it recently, took it to theaters in Europe and North America, and even won “Best Show” award in 2018. Congratulations. 

Ibrahim: Thank you. The play is a dynamic one. I am sensitive and attentive to current events, and I find ways to improvise and make the drama relevant. A recent example: on my performance at the Walnut, I incorporated the 2018 Israeli Nation-State Bill [“which specifies the nature of the State of Israel as the nation-state of the Jewish people”] into an integral part of my monologue about not being Israeli enough. I’ve added, “now it’s according to the law.”

Since then, I performed In Between (Dazwischen) at the international monodrama festival THESPIS as part of its contemporary “one-man-shows” in Kiel, Germany, and won the “Best Show” award in November. In May 2019, I went to Kyiv, Ukraine, and performed at their Solo Shows Festival (SoloFest).

Henrik: How did Philadelphia’s Walnut Street Theatre, the oldest continuously operating theatre in the English-speaking world, the oldest theatre in the U.S., and the most subscribed theatre company in the world, discover you or find out about your work as a playwright?

Ibrahim: I auditioned for The Humans. Once I got the role and they got to know me better, I mentioned In Between to Mr. Bernard Havard [president and producing artistic director of Walnut Street Theatre]. He promised to look into it. One day, he called and offered to produce it.

TRANSCENDING THE PROBLEMS OF THE PAST

Henrik: Were there people in the Palestinian or Arab world who did not appreciate your bridge-building between different cultures and religions? If so, how did you handle any criticism or perhaps even hostility?

Ibrahim: I wouldn’t say I got hostility for trying to bring people together to share stories. However, some people expressed reservation or tried to minimize to what extent our peace camps are effective. It’s an ongoing research project, and there’s still a lot to learn about these programs and models, but each 1,000-mile journey starts with one step. I hope I am contributing something to cultivate dialogue.

Henrik: Could you give an example where everything came together for you, where all the difficulties of the past led to a transformationthat is reaching a wide audience on both sides of the divide—even though cultural clashes and misunderstandings most likely will continue for you and all of us?

Ibrahim: It all came together when I realized that the process of getting married and trying to explain myself at the [Israeli] airport were two similar events in a lot of ways: my identity and beliefs were at the center. Once I decided which stories I would focus on, the play kinda wrote itself.
​
The theater is a mirror, and my play touches upon issues such as identity, culture, religion, traditions, and the tensions between Jews and Arabs, Israelis and Palestinians.

I believe that people can relate because I choose to share a personal story. I don’t even try to talk about politics.

The reality is that we all have our agendas and ideas of how things should or shouldn’t be, but the more personal I get, the more people can open up and listen—not necessarily to agree with me, but hope to hear something new, to reflect on it, to laugh at it, perhaps even to be upset about it. That is why I keep performing the play.
​
Henrik: Many thanks, Ibrahim. Shalom and Salaam—wherever you take In Between on this globe. 

This interview was published originally by The Theatre Times on June 30, 2019. 

2019 began the way 2018 ended: with one disaster after another—and with many more to come. We live in a country where those in power love to kill little Sesame Street to build THE TRUMP WALL, even if it means that thousands of Americans are shut out of important government jobs without pay—while the politicians who created this mess go on grand vacations.

Making money out of reheated old chestnuts
​
Now that Santas and elves have mothballed their uniforms, executive directors and accountants are wondering if it’s true that Christmas is the financial Savior for their theaters and choruses.

Frequently, cultural institutions pay an artistic price for focusing on income by letting innovative new plays or songs fall by the wayside during the holiday season. Few people talk about this open secret. The decline in popularity of songs of seduction like “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” (1949)—because of the awareness generated by the #MeToo movement—does not mitigate the fact that old chestnuts, roasted nicely during the holidays, often bring in the cash that pays for new productions.

​“We have nothing against a good holiday show, but . . .”

Seth Rozin, artistic director of InterAct Theatre Company, directly challenges culture-making institutions which rely on traditional money-making holiday shows:  

“We have nothing against a good holiday show, but we’d rather focus on finding the boldest and bravest living playwrights who tell important new stories and ask important new questions about today’s world [. . .] We have proudly and defiantly eschewed the strategy of relying on an annual ‘cash cow.’ This is what distinguishes InterAct Theatre Company. It is also what distinguishes our audiences and supporters.”

Rozin made that statement in a fund-raising letter a few Christmases ago. However, when looking for a new show this December, I could not find a major production at the InterAct. So, with no menorah, no Christmas tree, and no new play on the stage of the InterAct, I went Christmas “cash cowing” by attending a winter concert and a holiday musical:

Rejoice: A Multicultural Holiday Celebration by the Philadelphia Gay Men’s Chorus (PGMC) at the Prince Theatre; and Oliver! in the Quintessence production at the Sedgwick Theatre in Germantown.

Philadelphia Gay Men’s Chorus: Rejoice

Against the elegantly decorated stage of the Prince Theatre—with Christmas trees, lights, and garlands that flickered for dramatic effect—a group of elves (some bearded) came running in. They made us chuckle and even created a sense of goofy camaraderie. Usually, choral dance groups are made up of slim young performers. However, PGMC’s “Brotherly Love” (choreographed by Edward Stash) presented men of all ages and body sizes—for me, a sign of acceptance.

The large chorus—103 singers—filled the hall with a glorious sound, supported by a fine, small orchestra (unfortunately, not mentioned in the program), all conducted by Joseph J. Buches, the artistic director of 14 years. Pianist and opera coach Gabriel Rebolla, originally from Brazil, accompanied the popular chorus, while Brian Morrison provided ASL interpretation.

This year’s concert reflected the cultural background of its members, including songs in Spanish, Italian, Hebrew, and Ukrainian—from “Ave Maria” to “Stille Nacht”—rendered movingly by various soloists and the backing of the chorus.

PGMC and other LGBT choruses tend to present classical and contemporary music for the holidays, but more importantly, they unite the gay community and their allies. This concert featured solo performances by two trans members—evoking strong applause from the audience.

Guest conductors Tony La Salle, a painter, and his husband Robert Maggio, a composer—both academics—bolstered the evening’s entertainment with their rendition of “We Need a Little Christmas.” They had won the auction for the privilege of conducting the chorus however they wished—leading to some hilarious directing with Buches beaming in the wings.

The second part of the evening brought in modern arrangements, ending with “Go! Go! Rudy!” sung so rhythmically that the audience insisted on an encore.

As a non-religious person, happily humming along to Christmas songs, I became aware again of the deeply seated, cultural demands made on producers to connect us to old traditions during the holiday seasons.

Adam R. Funk, PGMC’s president, thanked the Prince Theatre for many years of support and announced that, because the Prince is rebranding itself as the Philadelphia Film Center, PGMC will move to the Suzanne Roberts Theater next year as their “resident chorus.”

Quintessence Theatre Group: Oliver! integrating the audience

Despite Rozin’s comment about holiday “cash cows,” I went to the Sedgwick Theatre and immediately found myself drawn into the action of Oliver! by sitting onstage at one of the many long tables with other theatergoers—all of us having morphed into orphans.

Bill Sikes (Brock D. Vickers), the brutal murderer, wore a long black leather coat, reminiscent of Nazi and KGB agents. Nancy (Hanna Gaffney), Sikes’ lover and a prostitute, wore a modern leopard fur-print outfit to attract johns. Costume designer Christina Bullard’s mix of traditional historical outfits with contemporary ones in this Quintessence production made the connection between exploitation in Victorian England and our own time more transparent.

Just as the LGBT chorus presented remarkable voices, some of the professional performers in Oliver!—like Daniel Miller and Tasha Waters as street criers—harmonized so powerfully that they moved me to tears.

I left the Sedgwick Theatre not only entertained, but deep in thought. Cash cows or no cash cows, ultimately, we the audience demand high professional standards, musically and dramatically, but also songs and plays that speak to us during the holiday season.

This review was originally published by Phindie on January 5, 2019. 

Lawd, it’s already January, 2019. Time to reflect on how much I owe to the many playwrights, directors, all the creative and technical teams, and all the actors, dancers, singers, and musicians who created thought-provoking and/or entertaining shows this past year.
 
As I couldn’t possibly see every show, I tried my best to read as many reviews as possible by my colleagues, who often write fascinating, thoughtful, but also challenging, articles in various publications, including Phindie and BSR. A big thank you to all of you, including:
 
Mark Cofta, Steve Cohen, Julius Ferraro, Michael Fisher, Jessica Foley, Merilyn Jackson, Alaina Johns, Cameron Kelsall, Debra Miller, Chris Munden, Naomi Orwin, Kathryn Osenlund, Lisa Panzer, Darnelle Radford, Wendy Rosenfield, Dan Rottenberg, Howard Shapiro, Lewis Whittington, and Toby Zinman.
 
“Here at Phindie we think about the articles you loved in the year just ending,” Chris Munden, editor-in-chief, wrote about the Phindie list of the most widely-read theater articles, interviews, and reviews in 2018.
 
I was thrilled. The statistics showed that my texts appeared 15 times among the various categories of the TOP TEN most widely-read Phindie pieces in 2018. I enjoyed creating this illustrated article, which includes two runners-up, plus one article each in BSR and a national publication, The Progressive.

​It gave me a special joy to read that two of my features, both relating to German culture, made it to the top in these categories: 
​#1 in FILM: “Dinner for One” 
#1 in MUSIC: Berlin’s “Max Raabe, ‘I can’t kiss myself alone’” 

Below the categories and rankings for all pieces on Phindie 2018:

MOST POPULAR NEW ARTICLES 2018:
 
#5 of all NEW ARTICLES: Dinner for One: The greatest cult film you’ve never heard of

MUSIC:
 
#1 of all MUSIC ARTICLES: “I Can’t Kiss Myself Alone”: The Wit and Retro Style of Berlin’s Max Raabe and His Palast Orchestra.
#3: German Cabaret in Philadelphia: Interview with Berlin’s Dieter Rita Scholl
#8: Berlin to Broadway, a Musical Voyage with Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill: Cast interview

FILM:
 
#1 of all FILM reviews: Dinner for One: The greatest cult film you’ve never heard of
 
INTERVIEWS:
 
#2 of all INTERVIEWS: “I Can’t Kiss Myself Alone”: The Wit and Retro Style of Berlin’s Max Raabe and His Palast Orchestra.
#3: German Cabaret in Philadelphia: Interview with Berlin’s Dieter Rita Scholl
#4: Theater of the Extreme: Amanda Schoonover looks back on PHAEDRA’S LOVE
#6: MEDEA, A Woman in Crisis: Interview with Jennifer Summerfield

FEATURES:
 
#3 of all FEATURE articles: Dinner for One: The greatest cult film you’ve never heard of
#6: Remembering Joel Markowitz, founding editor of DC Metro Theater Arts

Two of my articles came close to being in the TOP TEN on Phindie ​in 2018:

“Why Wait?" Director Ken Marini talks about Quintessence Theatre’s brilliant Waiting for Godot, and 
“Mentors and protégés exist everywhere”: Interview with playwright Donald Margulies on Collected Stories. 

I was happy when a national publication, The Progressive, published my interview with one of the most committed actors in Philadelphia: Bob Weick, who took Marx in Soho all over Britain and the US in celebration of Karl Marx's 200th birthday.

​I also appreciated Broad Street Review opening its doors for Meg Saligman and Brian Sanders’ JUNK in their presentation of ‘FIGMAGO’ Through the looking glass. 

Most of these entries first appeared in the end of the year ranking of the 10 most popular articles
​on Phindie​ on December 30, 2018. 

​Philadelphia prepared itself for the first snow storm this season. Within minutes, the large Buddha in my garden looked like Santa Claus and the life-sized sculpture of a young centurion looked like one of the wise men who had aged before his time. One news flash after another warned about accidents, especially with a long downpour of rain afterwards.

One of the secrets of the Walnut Street Theatre success story

I had hoped that the Walnut Street Theatre would reschedule its opening of its Studio 3 production of WINTER WONDERETTES, directed by Richard Parison. At 5:43 PM, 107 minutes before curtain time, I received this email from AnnaBeth Crittenden, the new press person at WST: “It’s Snowing Outside and WINTER WONDERETTES Opens Tonight”.

That update reminded me of a conversation I had with Denise Daher Hodgson, the former chair of the board of directors. She told me how, a few years ago, when there was a really bad snow storm, she and the entire WST board called every single ticket holder to let them know how much they appreciate their support and that the show was still on.

Such commitment from everybody, including the board of directors, explains part of the reason why the Walnut has the world’s largest subscriber base and plays to mostly sold-out performances night after night, matinee after matinee—rain or shine, or Philly snow and sleet.

Frankly, I didn’t want to brave the weather, but after that email, I didn’t want to ask for a rain check. As I didn’t trust the roads with my car, I walked 10 minutes toward the nearest Septa stop. Big mistake. In both the suburbs and the city, many storm drains were clogged. The trains were delayed, but I managed to make it to the Walnut on time, looking like a madman who had waded into a lake, with my trousers dripping and my shoes squishing because of all the water. I still didn’t want to see the show.

And then the magic of theater took over, making me forget all about my wet and ice-cold feet.

Wacky female barbershop quartet at a wacky store

The brilliant Billy Thompson from California—pianist and vocal director for this show—created the musical backbone to the WINTER WONDERETTES. Sitting at the back of Studio 3 in a cleverly-devised place where furniture, even trees, could be turned into something else within seconds (designed by Colin McIlvaine), the pianist sat behind what looked like an upright piano dressed up with cheap Christmas wrapping—actually a musical wonder machine that created any sound imaginable (enhanced by John Kolbinski’s sound design).

Four ditzy employees at Harper’s Hardware Store in a Midwestern town (talented actors and singers Jenna Pastuszek, Rebecca Robbins, Amanda Jill Robinson, and Kayla Tarpley) dressed to the hilt with sets of the glitziest, most elegantly overdone costumes and shoes (dazzlingly created by Amanda Wolff and enhanced by Robert Perry’s lighting design), went all out to produce their annual holiday party—with the audience cast as the other employees. Yes, squishy shoes or not, we all became part of the most unusual Christmas party ever.

I asked the director, Richard Parison, long-time casting director at the Walnut, former associate artistic director at the Prince Music Theater, and now artistic director for The American Theatre in Hampton, VA, to tell me about the selection process of the delightfully wacky country bumpkins: “The ladies in auditions each brought a unique authenticity to the role. Bernard Havard and I saw each of these [artists] as talented singers, actresses, and comediennes.  The show doesn’t allow itself to be taken too seriously, and audiences will enjoy it only when the actresses do take it seriously. Comedy is hard, but [they] make it look easy.”

Going by the laughter in the audience in scene after scene, the hilarious script by Roger Bean and the work of the director, the actors, and the creative team created a most entertaining evening, with a number of thought-provoking moments. Studio 3 at America’s oldest theater got into the Christmas spirit just in time for Thanksgiving.

Christmas: “In honor of our friends of the Jewish persuasion”

We laughed when one of the lovely ditzies earnestly declared that there was something for everybody:

SUZY: And just by coincidence, I’m wearing blue in honor of our friends of the Jewish persuasion. [SHE looks proudly to the others.] Happy Hanukah! [SHE mispronounces Hanukah as Hanookah. The girls correct her.]

BETTY JEAN, CINDY LOU & MISSY: Happy Hanukah! [THEY form a living menorah]

Studio 3, decorated to the hilt with Christmas paraphernalia, exploded with joyful, sparkling laughter.

In his review of WINTER WONDERETTES—in the 11th Hour Theatre Company production at Theatre Horizonin 2012—theater critic Steve Cohen asked, “Was Santa Claus Jewish?” and listed some of the many Jewish writers or composers of Christmas songs: “Irving Berlin (“White Christmas”), Mel Tormé (“Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire”), Jay Livingston (“Silver Bells”), Johnny Marks (“Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer”) and Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne (“Let It Snow”). He ended his review with a question that some folks with kippahs might ask each other at a Chinese restaurant on Christmas Eve: “Where would the Christmas season be without the chosen people?”

Carving up an old German Christmas tree

Coming from Germany, I was intrigued when one of the employees (the hilarious Amanda Jill Robinson) took apart the old German song “O Tannenbaum” from 1824, with the music going back to a Silesian folk song from the 16th century. “The lyrics do not actually refer to Christmas, or describe a decorated Christmas tree. Instead, they refer to the fir’s evergreen quality as a symbol of constancy and faithfulness,” as my old friend Wiki reported.

The American employee didn’t want to sing the song in German and had to be persuaded—nay, forced—by her three coworkers. She sang it with such disgust that the audience laughed out loud, even though there were moments when, I must admit, I cringed a bit at the old stereotypes of German culture. However, throughout the whole show, these loveable characters made fun of themselves and each other—all part of an evening filled with humor and satire, making fun of and even celebrating human foibles.

I couldn’t think of a more enjoyable evening during the holiday season—German, Jewish, or American, even Chinese!