The Murder Room Slays Audiences, Hides the Bodies

It’s refreshing to see 2nd Story do something zany and offbeat. Given the severity of shows like The Exonerated and Amadeus, or even the gruff themes of pseudo-comedies like Lost in Yonkers and Cuckoo’s Nest, putting up a farce largely unknown to the casual theatergoer demonstrates a lighter side of 2nd Story. The Murder Room is a gut-busting parody of the murder-mystery genre, all the more appropriate in rep with Agatha Christie’s Mousetrap.

The affluent Edgar Hollister dons a fake pushbroom moustache in his smoking jacket. Immediately, a mysterious and beautiful woman enters and shoots Edgar to death. She’s Mavis Hollister and she can no longer tolerate the anguish of her arid marriage … which is one day old.

The Murder Room follows Mavis’ futile attempts to collect the Hollister family fortune by murdering everyone around her. The police become involved after Edgar’s disappearance, prompting evidence such as a cat corpse and a pistol loaded with blanks. Mavis’ stepdaughter, Susan Hollister, arrives with her American fiancé, Barry Draper. The two remain oblivious to the circumstances surrounding Edgar’s disappearance and never suspect Mavis, even as she receives multiple phone calls from her mysterious “darling.” Mavis gets found out, is forgiven, and then she gets right back to murdering. Farce-tastic.

The comedic chops of this cast cannot be understated. Tim White is immediately likable as the exuberant Texan millionaire Barry Draper. Susan, played by Ashley Hunter Kenner, hysterically telegraphs her confusion to the audience with a litany of microexpressions, the kind of acting minutia that only actors appreciate. In tandem, White and Hunter Kenner play a delightful couple of young idiots. Susan Bowen Powers gets her share of yucks as housekeeper Lottie Molloy, the Scottish Madea. As inspector James Crandall, Jeff Church goes for the jugular with his obnoxious Scottish accent, performing with undeniable comedic magnetism. Sharon Carpenter does her best Days of Our Lives as Mavis, completely delightful as her evil stepmother persona escalates with each successive costume change. And of course, Jim Sullivan accommodates the audience beautifully at the opening of the show with a hilarious death, worthy of applause.

The jokes in this show are half Who’s on First? and half Airplane! The dialogue is often circular, with the same point reiterated repeatedly, but differently, until some utterance makes the phrase funny. Wordplay is huge, though the witty humor balances out with the abundance of cheap gags.

Ed Shea marathoned directorial duty for both Mousetrap and Murder Room. Mousetrap was articulate and craftful in its staging. Murder Room seemed more relaxed. And that’s great. With a parody like this, the jokes do the talking, not the lights or the blocking.

The real pleasure of this show comes from having seen The Mousetrap. Both Murder Room and Mousetrap use the same set, though Murder Room really emphasizes the Scooby Doo aspects — secret bookcase entrance, hidden stairwell and booby trapped portrait, to name a few. That decidedly British tone is certainly present in both shows, though Murder Room, written by American Jack Sharkey, is certainly much more tongue-in-cheek with its deployment of British idioms and colloquialisms.

The Murder Room was the most fun I’ve had at a play in a while. Though I’m a sucker for dark dramatic comedies, I was delighted to see such a fantastic farce without any baggage. This show will put you in a good mood, and in this damp, sweltering prison of humidity we call summer in Rhode Island, a light comedy and a little air conditioning could do you good. Mystery, Murder and Mice: Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap at 2nd Story

Ever consider how fascinated we are with murder? It saturates popular culture. You can flip through the channels at any given moment in a 24-hour cycle, and likely, you’ll find a “CSI” marathon or a “Criminal Minds” rerun somewhere in the dark recesses of basic cable. It’s been hot as hell lately, and if you feel like a slob watching crime dramas all summer on the couch, blasting the air conditioning, why not get out and see a murder mystery in an air conditioned theater? Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap at 2nd Story Theater just might satiate your unquenchable bloodlust, you sicko.

They’re snowed in. Every guest at Monkswell Manor is stuck, and with news of a shadowy madman on the loose, things get tense. An anonymous murderer has crawled out of the past to rectify a tragedy, and there’s a body count. One victim dead, two yet left. Whoever the next victims are, they’re trapped at Monskwell Manor (oh, mousetrap, I get it).The proprietors, the young Ralston couple, cope as best they can with the eclectic array of characters lodging at their inn as hysteria prevails.

The Mousetrap is the prototype murder mystery from which every whodunit spoof stems. As such, you get a now-cliché assortment of weirdos who just happen to be the most suspicious people in existence. The foreign creep, the snobby dame, the eccentric runaway, the old military stiff. Oh, and the obligatory inspector from Scotland Yard. Christie incorporates ample misdirection and tops off the show with a legendary twist.

The Mousetrap is actually the longest continuously running show in theater history, celebrating a 25,000 performance milestone just last November. It’s an older show, still shaking off the Victorian cobwebs. At times, the dialogue is almost reminiscent of Wilde; witty banter and clever hub-bub. I’m not sure if that’s just a quality of being British or a conscious attempt to emulate Oscar Wilde. It just sounds unnaturally proper to an American ear. But even 50 years after it opened on the West End, this show holds up for a modern audience. If your theatrical odometer is clicking 25,000, you’re clearly doing something right. So, Mousetrap is a classic murder mystery that has garnered theatrical accolades for its longevity. Cool. But that’s not all that makes 2nd Story’s production worthwhile.

The Mousetrap is being paired in rep with The Murder Room, a farce that mocks the murder mystery genre, and indeed much of Mousetrap . The plays, both directed by Ed Shea, will run on alternating weekends through Labor Day. These shows lend to one another tremendously; audiences will appreciate one all the more for having seen the other. Also, air conditioning.

The Mousetrap and The Murder Room run until September 1. DVR the new episode of “Dexter,” ignore your urge to binge-watch an entire season of “Law & Order.” Check out 2nd Story’s Murder in Rep instead. It’s Murderiffic.

Manchester 65: Everything you want from Providence … in West Warwick

65 Manchester

Just getting in the door at a club in Providence is a hassle. Pay for parking. Wait in line. Feel cold and uncomfortable. Pay cover. And four hours later, when your clothes are sticking to you from sweat and spilled alcohol, five minutes of walking becomes an inebriated death march. If I sound like an ignorant suburban snob, consider that Providence has no subway or metro and the majority of people enjoying the nightlife in Prov come from out of town and have no other option but to park and pay. Ain’t nobody walking home from the club. If you love live music, but hate dealing with the city, a promising new venue is opening in West Warwick. It’s called Manchester 65. The industrial space at Evolution Mill has been renovated from the ground up. With the date of the first show quickly approaching, there’s still work to be done, but the bones are there. Initially, Manchester 65 was crammed with industrial junk, floor to ceiling. In two weeks it was all cleared out, and everything was installed brand new. The 500 person capacity concert hall boasts a national level JBL sound system, main stage and a full bar. On the other side of the wall, there’s a 200 capacity Irish pub with an emphasis on craft beer with an estimated 40 (!!!) beers on tap. Just outside, a courtyard right on the Pawtuxet. There is no venue in Providence that can offer all that. Some fast facts about Manchester that may interest you Rhode Island concert- goers: Manchester 65 is located just two miles from 95, up to 200 cars can be parked on the property, and that’s not counting the abundant street parking, free of charge. The venue is insulated from main streets; a sense of security pervades, reinforced by the town park and historical society bordering the property. The red light district, it isn’t. “I wanted to get out of Providence because the cost of doing business is ridiculous. The city just takes and takes from you and gives you nothing in return. Please quote me on that,” Manchester 65 owner Jim Vickers told me. It’s damn expensive to operate in Providence. Vickers estimates that what it costs for his club to operate for a month in Prov is what it will cost to operate for a year in West Warwick. Jim is acutely aware of the problems that plague the Providence nightlife. “You’re getting tickets, or you’re getting towed, or someone’s getting shot in front of you.” Manchester is a full package alternative in a completely different community setting. As contemptuous as he is of Providence, Vickers is equally appreciative of and enthusiastic about West Warwick. “People would say ‘Why are you going to West Warwick? There’s nothing there!’” That’s just the point. The town has been extremely accommodating, according to Vickers. West Warwick is open territory for a venue that hosts national touring acts. No competition, no claustrophobia, no bullshit. And Manchester has had no trouble booking top-notch acts for their maiden voyage. The roster for the first week speaks for itself. New York reggae/rock stalwarts The Slackers will christen the Manchester stage on July 24. The next night, the Wailers play. If you’re a pop music historian, you know the Wailers remain the standard to which all other reggae bands are compared. Rounding out Manchester’s opening week, Grammy winning Rebirth Brass Band brings their New Orleans-bred blend of gospel laden jazz and funk to West Warwick. The lineup leans toward laid back, non-threatening music. Vickers promises Marylyn Manson will not be playing. Beyond live music, Jim’s planning on art shows, maybe once a month. Standup comedy and live performance theater are also on the backburner. Vickers hopes Manchester 65 will be a magnet for Rhode Island arts organizations. He envisions the mill complex developing into an artist community, comparable to Hope Artiste Village in Pawtucket. Bands have already taken up residence in the Evolution Mill to practice. Add a café and couple studios and you’ve got a hive buzzing with creativity. If you don’t feel cool enough to go to AS220, if you think Lupo’s is overpriced, if you said good riddance to Club Hell, if you are generally frustrated with your local live music experience, there is at least one other option. Classic rock and reggae tinged acts supported by a full pub and location that is downright serene. Clearly frustrated with Providence, Jim Vickers seems to have found a comfortable niche at Manchester 65. “We can do stuff we like and not have to chase the mortgage.” There’s no telling how the club will fare. But based on my impressions of the space, even in its sawdusty near-completion phase, you’ll be hard pressed not to succumb to the charm. Manchester 65 is large enough to support headlining acts, yet small enough to feel local – to feel like “your” place. Mark your calendars; Manchester is open for business July 24. It’s a Spaceship Now: Wilbury’s New Work Takes Off

Stu is on a mission to repurpose a forsaken Soviet missile into a functioning spacecraft. He’s going to space. For fuel, Stu will harness the combustion power of Seasons 1 & 2 of “Battlestar Galactica” on DVD. The right chair and the right seatbelt are crucial. All Stu wants to do is circle the Earth’s orbit – to be in space if even by lame technicality. The Wilbury Group’s inaugural production of their New Works Development program, It’s a Spaceship Now, is unlike any show you’ve seen. I can assure you that.

I realized what kind of play this was when the show came to a truck stop pause and Stu gave out fresh coffee to the audience. He served about nine people, and the play did not resume until each one had mug in hand. Halting the production to distribute hot coffee was but the first of many moments of fun and whimsical weirdness in Spaceship.

“This show is about a man who is trying to do something big in his life … he’s trying to create something noteworthy … It’s very autobiographical,” said writer/conceptual director/performer Stuart Wilson. The show is set in Providence. Both protagonist Stu and the actor Stu share the same name, family history, tastes and preferences. He likes sci-fi, drinking and complicated lists. This is exactly the type of person you’d expect to dabble in DIY rocket science. The concept of Spaceship hardly does the production justice. It’s the potpourri of artistic design that makes it so fascinating.

My favorite thing about Spaceship was the sheer multimedia experience. The story was at times a PowerPoint presentation, a model rocket on a zip line, and sometimes a hip-hop anthem. At one point, Stu (dangerously) opened up the floor for Q&A from the audience. There were graphs and a photojournal and probably the best use of Kurt Russell in any production. It’s a clip from Escape From L.A. where Kurt Russell kills three men at some sort of smoldering garbage dump. In no way was that necessary to include in the show, but I truly appreciate that it was.

This was the first ever production of It’s a Spaceship Now. This show was workshopped and retooled over a period of months. “I don’t always think the world makes sense, but my play has to make sense,” said Wilson. From an audience perspective, you can see that building a spaceship indeed makes perfect sense to Stu (the character), but the play sometimes moved faster than the crowd could digest. That’s likely a consequence of Spaceship being a one-man show. Dialogue sometimes suffered from being too thick with info, or confusingly irrelevant. The audience had a hard time reconciling what was supposed to be funny and what was earnest. Maybe a couple more characters could have helped raise the stakes and diffuse the burden of the dialogue. But then again, “one man space musical” sounds a lot better than just “space musical.”

In a fucked up way, I felt like I was seeing my life story in this show. Stu asks himself, “What if this doesn’t work?” I ask myself that question a lot, though that’s the nature of having a liberal arts degree from a shitty state school. Reservations aside, Spaceship pulled a Wilbury and left an indelible impression on me.

Sooner or later, all of us have our “big thing.” That all-or-nothing, now-or-not adventure that alters the course of our lives, redeems our past failures, and sets us up for success … hopefully. For guys like Stu, it’s about next level aeronautics, skull crushing g-force and epic clips of Kurt Russell. For the actual Stuart Wilson, it just might have been doing something personal, fun and fearless. It’s a Spaceship Now was whatever the hell it wanted to be, and that was cool.

Pilgrim – Doom-metal, Heavy Drinking, and No Apologies

Doom. If you’re a nerd like me, the word conjures images of violent PC games and masked Marvel villains with PhDs in Evil Science. If you are a nerd of a higher pedigree, you might think doom-metal. It’s a sound that harkens back to Black Sabbath, emphasizing clean vocals and de-tuned guitars rather than screaming and breakdowns. As clean vocals return to preference in heavy music (thanks to bands like Baroness and The Sword), the heir apparent to the doom legacy may be Rhode Island-bred.

Pilgrim is a Rhode Island doom-metal act gaining acclaim in the realm of heavy music. The three-piece outfit was recently signed to Metal Blade Records (Unearth, Job for a Cowboy, Cannibal Corpse) and are creating the follow-up to their 2012 debut, Misery Wizard. There are only three guys in Pilgrim; Krolg the Slayer of Man (drums), Count Elric the Soothsayer (bass), and The Wizard (vocals/guitar), but they produce engrossing, dark down-tempo atmospherics as well as soaring vocals, powerful rhythm and groovy riffs as if they were a band twice the size. As far as heavy music goes, there are few RI acts as accessible or entertaining as Pilgrim. I talked with frontman, The Wizard, for more.

James Lucey: First off, congrats on your recent deal with Metal Blade! What have you guys been up to since you cut this new record deal?

The Wizard: We’ve been taking a little break and focusing on our lives outside the band. We just finished writing our next record (Void Worship). We dumped a LOT of time and energy into manifesting it completely. Now that the stress of writing it has subsided and we’ve got some time to kill before we actually record it, we’re just taking it easy. And drinking heavily.

JL: In an interview, Pilgrim once said Providence should be nuked. I don’t disagree. Sometimes Providence seems like a dystopia of hookah bars and Natty-Ice bros. What was so frustrating about playing shows and participating in the Providence scene?

TW: I’m glad you asked this. The whole thing has sort of blown out of proportion. When we first started as a band, we tried feverishly to play out in Providence, but every show we got was an opening spot on a dumb-ass post-hardcore show. Time and time again. It was infuriating. After a while, we built up a really horrible image of Providence, that it was this terrible nightmare of a city, living in the memory of its former glory as a big joke. But since we’ve been out to more doom shows, met more people there and gotten chances to play with great bands who we actually like, we’ve been overwhelmingly surprised by how nice it can be. Yeah, the people suck, but they suck everywhere, I guess. Do I regret what we said? No, not really. It was what we saw from our perspective as a young band. I just hope that people take the whole story into consideration before they absolutely hate us for it. Plus, it was really funny – totally worth it.

JL: Are there any redeeming qualities of Providence?

TW: Krolg and I were at a Windhand show last night at AS220 in Providence and I looked around and thought, “Fuck, I wish this was our first impression of the city.” I think that the doom is spreading and everything is getting a little bit cooler. You can thank Armageddon Records for that.

JL: Someone in the band (I think Krolg) said fantasy lyrics helps the band to deal with being such miserable human beings. Is it easier to conceptualize a song based on sword and sorcery than complaining about a shitty relationship? How does storytelling feed into the music aesthetic of the band?

TW: Yeah, it is easier. It’s sort of a no brainer. After 100-plus years of love songs, the same old lyrics get stale after a while. It’s all about prose. It’s all just another way to express the same feelings. That’s how I write anyway. Storytelling appeals to me personally because I love the idea of an epic journey or a quest. I get it from all the gnarly video games I played growing up. It will always be a part of the band and our style.

JL: What kind of musical background does the band come from? Did you always play together, and if so, was it always doom?

TW: We first started playing together when we were like 16 or so, and back then, like most kids, we worshiped our idols. We basically just wanted to be Nirvana. And then we just wanted to be The Melvins. After some time and after we discovered heavy, slow, stoner and doom music, we found that we really connected with it and that’s what we started playing. We always wanted our band to be a mix of doom metal and epic fantasy, almost like if Manilla Road was way slower and heavier, like Acid King or something! Imagine Acid King covering “Necropolis” (laughs).

JL: As metalcore fades into obscurity, do you think there’s a place for down-tempo doom as the new “heavy”? Would you even want Pilgrim to be considered “heavy” or “tough” music? That stigma seems to come with the metal territory.

TW: The new heavy? Yeah, for sure. The new tough? I don’t think so. To analyze it in a bit of a spiritual way, I feel like most heavy bands that are truly unique and amazing worship the feminine energy, if that makes sense. Bands that are overly masculine are often fucking horrible. I feel that even a burly fucking band like Gates of Slumber has more of a feminine energy about their music. Maybe I’m just fucking insane.

Another thing to keep in mind is that most of the doom bands now (especially the younger guys like us) are WAY more influenced by hard rock than metal, per se. I was just discussing this with Garrett Morris from Windhand last night that neither of us really listens to too much metal or hardcore and we don’t really take influence from them. I think it’s because the masculinity is lost on us. We’re just a bunch of little girls. We’re inspired by bands that fucking ROCK, everything from Sonic Youth to Electric Wizard to Grand Funk Railroad; it’s more about the passion that makes a band good.

But at the same time, we still listen to metal, so don’t get your ideas crossed or whatever. Fuck it.

JL: What can fans expect from your upcoming release on Metal Blade?

TW: I personally believe that the material on our next record will blow Misery Wizard out of the water. I just hope we don’t fuck up recording it.

Check out Pilgrim online at metalblade.com/pilgrim for dates, info, and merch.

Threepenny Opera

I feel like I’m in the right place when I see a Wilbury Group production. I cheered “U-S-A!” at The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity and I cried honest and unashamed at Lungs. Even with an unforeseen venue swap from the Butcher Block Mill to Trinity Church midseason, Wilbury didn’t break stride. As such, The Threepenny Opera is all at once a completely appropriate and deeply perplexing choice of a show to close the Wilbury Group’s 2012-2013 season. So, the Wilbury mission, as I’ve come to understand, is to present atypical works of theater to compel, if not to challenge, audiences. That was abundantly evident in the minimalist soul-crusher called Lungs and in the unexpectedly insightful testosterone-fest that was Chad Deity. I had never read nor seen a production of Threepenny before. For two acts, I struggled to understand why Artistic Director Josh Short chose this show. Because The Threepenny Opera has absolutely no pay-off. The plot was wholly irrelevant, and the catharsis of closure so vital to theater does not come. Considering this musical predates the Great Depression, that’s kind of a big deal. It’s a leap forward for theater with two middle fingers in the air and Slayer playing in the background. The story follows Macheath, aka “Mac the Knife,” murderer, robber and all-around scumbag infamous enough to have his own hideout and henchmen. Mac attempts to wed Polly Peachum (doesn’t love her), but is forced into hiding as her insidious parents hunt him down. Along the way, we meet some prostitutes and policemen, but there is nothing of consequence about the plot. Right before Mac is executed, Brecht pulls the old Deus ex Machina and has a messenger appear from nowhere with a royal pardon for Macheath. Mac doesn’t die, nothing changes and nobody learns anything. The Threepenny Opera, as the name might suggest, is a musical. Though frankly, I didn’t much care for the music. I’m pretty sure most of it was in the same minor key. Not to say the performance itself wasn’t up to par for Wilbury. Josh Short was clearly on a mission to use the Wilbury Group’s new space at Trinity Church to its potential. Short used the entire theater to stage the show. Now, when I say the entire theater, I mean every possible point of entry and every level built into the space. There was little, if any, set, and the twin scaffolding and orchestra risers were purely functional and lent no real aesthetic beyond the actors moving upon them. Being a musical, this show had a big ol’ cast. As Mac, David Tessier was a jerk of an antihero. Mac treats everyone like shit, and Tessier performed with all the gusto of a high school bully from a movie made in the 1980s. Remember Biff, from Back to the Future? Christine Dickinson had brilliant moments as Polly Peachum, forgoing the typically sweet disposition of her character to sing about the vicious tortures she would enjoy if she were a pirate. Tom Gleadow was consistently enjoyable as Mr. Peachum and Mac’s ex-flame Lucy Brown, Katie Travers, was gut-bustlingly hilarious. The Threepenny Opera is a show meant to elicit an audience response. Brecht didn’t intend this odd musical to simply entertain, he meant it to make people think. Now, when the show was written in the 1920s, the critique of the capitalist system and the abrupt pardon of a confessed murderer may have held more clout. I didn’t walk away a political dissident, but I did become a Brecht believer. I did not see the climax (or lack thereof) coming, and completely appreciated it as a loogie spit right between the eyes of the theater world. I don’t know what you’re doing in terms of theater these days, but if you haven’t checked out the Wilbury Group yet, you’re missing out. The Threepenny Opera runs from May 23 through June 8 at The Wilbury Theatre Group, 393 Broad St., Providence, RI.

Threepenny for Your Thoughts

I feel like I’m in the right place when I see a Wilbury Group production. I cheered “U-S-A!” at The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity and I cried honest and unashamed at Lungs. Even with an unforeseen venue swap from the Butcher Block Mill to Trinity Church midseason, Wilbury didn’t break stride. As such, The Threepenny Opera is all at once a completely appropriate and deeply perplexing choice of a show to close the Wilbury Group’s 2012-2013 season.

So, the Wilbury mission, as I’ve come to understand, is to present untypical works of theater to compel, if not to challenge, audiences. That was abundantly evident in the minimalist soul-crusher called Lungs and in the unexpectedly insightful testosterone-fest that was Chad Deity. I had never read nor seen a production of Threepenny before. For two acts, I struggled to understand why Artistic Director Josh Short chose this show.

Because The Threepenny Opera has absolutely no pay-off. The plot was wholly irrelevant, and the catharsis of closure so vital to theater does not come. Considering this musical predates the Great Depression, that’s kind of a big deal. It’s a leap forward for theater with two middle fingers in the air and Slayer playing in the background. The story follows Macheath, aka “Mac the Knife,” murderer, robber and all-around scumbag infamous enough to have his own hideout and henchmen. Mac attempts to wed Polly Peachum (doesn’t love her), but is forced into hiding as her insidious parents hunt him down. Along the way, we meet some prostitutes and policemen, but there is nothing of consequence about the plot. Right before Mac is executed, Brecht pulls the old Deus ex Machina and has a messenger appear from nowhere with a royal pardon for Macheath. Mac doesn’t die, nothing changes and nobody learns anything.

The Threepenny Opera, as the name might suggest, is a musical. Though frankly, I didn’t much care for the music. I’m pretty sure most of it was in the same minor key. Not to say the performance itself wasn’t up to par for Wilbury.

Josh Short was clearly on a mission to use the Wilbury Group’s new space at Trinity Church to its potential. Short used the entire theater to stage the show. Now, when I say the entire theater, I mean every possible point of entry and every level built into the space. There was little, if any, set, and the twin scaffolding and orchestra risers were purely functional and lent no real aesthetic beyond the actors moving upon them.

Being a musical, this show had a big ol’ cast. As Mac, David Tessier was a jerk of an antihero. Mac treats everyone like shit, and Tessier performed with all the gusto of a high school bully from a movie made in the 1980s. Remember Biff, from Back to the Future? Christine Dickinson had brilliant moments as Polly Peachum, forgoing the typically sweet disposition of her character to sing about the vicious tortures she would enjoy if she were a pirate. Tom Gleadow was consistently enjoyable as Mr. Peachum and Mac’s ex-flame Lucy Brown, Katie Travers, was gut-bustlingly hilarious.

The Threepenny Opera is a show meant to elicit an audience response. Brecht didn’t intend this odd musical to simply entertain, he meant it to make people think. Now, when the show was written in the 1920s, the critique of the capitalist system and the abrupt pardon of a confessed murderer may have held more clout. I didn’t walk away a political dissident, but I did become a Brecht believer. I did not see the climax (or lack thereof) coming, and completely appreciated it as a loogie spit right between the eyes of the theater world. I don’t know what you’re doing in terms of theater these days, but if you haven’t checked out the Wilbury Group yet, you’re missing out.

The Threepenny Opera runs from May 23 through June 8 at The Wilbury Theatre Group, 393 Broad St., Providence, RI.

Tales from the Script: Cuckoo for Theatre Buffs I recently became an actor at 2nd Story Theater. I did not foresee this happening. For the past three months, I have significantly compromised my academic standing, occupational success and mental wellbeing. I play one of Nurse Ratched’s underlings in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and I sexually abuse a man with a broomstick.

I didn’t audition. I was recommended for the role because I had played it before. A friend who works at the theater mentioned me when 2nd Story was looking to fill the part, and I took advantage of the opportunity. The thing about having friends in creative circles is that they tend to hook up their other creative friends. Thanks, guys.

So, I like working at 2nd Story, I can’t underemphasize that. There are distinct pleasures that come from working in a professional theater, first off the audiences. I’ve seen plays with nine other people in the crowd besides me. In this theater, the house is filled to capacity almost every night. That’s like 200 faces staring right at me, point blank. And I can see them… more than I feel I should be able to. The combination of a superb light design and a total lack of space between seats and stage means I see every illuminated expression and every glazed geriatric glare.

I wheel out a gurney in this show. I push it through a narrow corridor lined with theater patrons. That gurney? It’s an asshole. It’s Scut Farkus and I am doomed to be Ralphie, my eyes welling up with tears as it refuses to cooperate. It gouged a hole in my thumb. It pulled a sweater off someone’s lap, and I’m pretty sure whoever I hit in the dark opening weekend will never walk again. I hate that gurney. Luckily, it works for the role.

My character, Aide Williams, hates his job. He hates himself, he hates you. He’s also supposed to be black. The lines are phonetically written in an archaic 1960s jive, and it’s supremely racist sounding. The first time I played this part, I performed with a crappy southern accent to compensate for the phonetics. And I play great white trash. This time around, Aide Williams is pure spite. Within the first five minutes of the show, I attempt to sodomize a mental patient, just because. But I can’t take all the credit.

Director Mark Peckham allowed most blocking on stage to unfold organically, deftly identifying and correcting problem areas to create what I think is a very polished show. Maybe I’m a little biased. As R.P. McMurphy, Aaron Morris exudes an infallible energy on stage. And Tanya Anderson manages this sterile Pleasantville vibe as Nurse Ratched, which all at once puts you at ease and makes you fear for your life.

The worst part of this process was the grueling rehearsal schedule. I have something like 10 lines in the entire show, and yet I’m on stage in what seems like every scene. That meant a lot of rehearsals, usually consuming my precious school nights; but not limited to 12-hour days during tech week. It was hellish, and my bit part may have demanded more than I expected, but it beats any other job I’ve been paid for. I’d rather be the worst actor in the world than the best bus boy.

This process has been a validation of all the creative work I’ve done while my peers were nine-to-fiving. I am a self-loathing hipster. A man-child with idealistic delusions who is not getting his life together. How long has it been since I washed these jeans? Am I wearing deodorant? What day is it, anyway? Whatever, I’m acting. I’d do this job for free and they’re paying me for it.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest plays through April 7. 28 Market Street, Warren. 247-4200, 2ndstorytheatre.com.

Photo by Richard W. Dionne, Jr.

Putting Olneyville on the MAP

As more arts programs disappear from academic curricula, the Manton Avenue Project (MAP) is fighting back to educate and inspire Olneyville area students. Some 200 local theater professionals from the Gamm, Trinity, the Wilbury Group, and other companies that might ordinarily vie for theatrical greatness, have combined their talents and volunteered their time to mentor kids in the ways of theater.

MAP encourages grade-school children from the Olneyville area to write their own plays. The young playwrights are paired with adult actors and directors in the company, and from there, they put on spectacularly creative productions. “One of our 4th grade playwrights wrote about an ax whose job is it annoy lumberjacks so that they won’t cut down trees. The ax ends up being tossed into outer space by an irritated lumberjack and meets an alien starfish on a comet,” explains MAP artistic director Meg Sullivan. Now that’s good theater.

It must be emphasized that MAP actually puts on shows. It’s not just some study group. In collaboration with William D’Abate Elementary, MAP guides kids through the entire creative process, from written inception to staged fruition. Audiences end up with an oddly unique opportunity to see a part of the world through the lens of an elementary school student’s experiences.

The point of all this? Fostering creativity and instilling confidence. “Letting kids be creative is the single most important role we can play in their education and development as human beings,” Sullivan says. “Creative practice enables important problem-solving and critical-thinking skills, as well as encourages empathy and the ability to see multiple perspectives … we are doing what we can to bring the arts into under-resourced kids’ lives so that they can unleash their creative voices.” That’s commendable. No, that’s perfect. That’s a notion more beautiful than any professional theater can stage.

The most charming aspect of MAP is the unconventional, ultra-imaginative stories the kids come up with. In a way, witnessing adult actors at the beck of grade schoolers is so anti-theater that it actually elevates the art form. Like punk rock. Like guerilla theater. In the muck of formulaic nonsense and inflated self-importance that comes with play writing, the Manton Avenue Project is letting kids riff, letting them jam using theater.

The future is bright for the Manton Avenue Project. Rehearsals used to be held all over Providence, with space provided from the courtesy of William D’Abate Elementary. But now MAP has its own clubhouse. As part of the Olney Village initiative, the Olneyville Housing Corporation donated a facility on Putnam Street, complete with furniture donated by Citizen’s Bank and computers from WGBH. The clubhouse will serve as an after-school haven, rehearsal space, and all around home base for this ambitious group of theater do-gooders.

In February, Manton Avenue will stage Be MAP’s Valentine. The show will include a full-length play, collaboratively written by the MAP kids on the subject of love and showing concern for others. On top of that, the kids will perform their own sonnets. Be MAP’s Valentine runs Feb. 15-17: Fri. at 7 pm, Sat. at 7 pm, Sun. at 3 pm, at the Met school in the Media and Arts Center, 325 Public St. in Providence.

2nd Story Answers the Call

J.B. Priestley’s An Inspector Calls opens on a family at a dinner party, coat tails and white bowties in abundance. Everyone is snooty, and often, characters retire to the drawing room. I have no idea what a drawing room is. And unless you were choking on mustard gas in the trenches in the Great War, you probably don’t either.

2nd Story’s production of An Inspector Calls is a worthy examination of our relationships and our interconnectedness with society. The patriarch of the Birling family, Arthur (Tom Roberts), whose character falls somewhere between Thurston Howell, III and J.P. Morgan, asserts that he “Cannot let the Upton Sinclairs do all the talking … a man must mind his own business.” This isolationist attitude was popular in Victorian-era America. The wealthy were content and complacent and this script provides some heavy conflict to completely ruin that attitude for the Birling family.

As the Birling dinner affair winds down, Inspector Goole (Vince Petronio) comes to the estate and begins an unwelcome inquisition. A working class girl named Eva Smith committed suicide, and it seems each Birling is connected. As the Inspector, Petronio almost comes off like a supervillain. His psychological probing borders on devious, and he casts the weight of villainy onto each person he interrogates. Petronio is all at once smooth, animated, commanding, and subdued.

The dinner party the Inspector interrupts is the celebration of Sheila Birling’s (Laura Sorensen) engagement to Gerald Croft (Tim White). It’s revealed that Sheila got Eva Smith fired from her job because Eva laughed when Sheila was too fat to fit into a dress, and Gerald had an affair with Eva while she was under an alias. Gerald is initially a pretty unremarkable character. He has the kind of lifelong affluence that results in a Romney-esque personality of room-temperature oatmeal. But when White recounts the evening he first met Eva, he is engaging and honest, and you are left helpless but to immerse yourself in the film reel of memories that follows.

Sybil Birling (Joan Batting) is kind of like Cruella de Vil with some Nurse Ratched peppered in. She refuses to take responsibility for anything, and Batting plays her with a coldness that is almost decadent. As black sheep/slacker son Eric, Jeff Church offers great contrast to the uptight snobs of the Birling family. From his first entrance, he is slouching and completely disinterested in the ongoings of family life. Eric has the most tragic connection to Eva Smith, but you are unaware of the humanity of his character until the connection is revealed. I always appreciate characters who are more than what they seem; and moreover, actors who recognize that quality.

Ultimately, each family member is made to realize that their position of privilege has somehow negatively impacted the world, if only epitomized in Eva Smith. The Inspector leaves as mysteriously as he came, leaving the Birlings in wonder.

An Inspector Calls questions responsibility and truth. Can we really take credit for all we have? Are we worthy of those we love? Do we learn from our failures, or are we doomed to repeat them? Even fabricated circumstances can bring about a realization of profound truth.

Performances will run through December 2 at the 2nd Story Theatre in Warren. For ticket information, call 401-253-9300 or visit www.2ndstorytheatre.com.