King Lear

Madness. Power. Jealousy. Love. Betrayal. Greed. Violence. Shakespeare's King Lear delivers the best and worst of human nature in a little less than three hours. The Guthrie's current production showcases the quick and dangerous tumble in store for those that rely on the gossip of the greedy, and how tragic a fall awaits those who mistake flattery for love. 

Lear is a shared role between  Stephen Yoakam and Nathaniel Fuller, with the skilled Guthrie veterans tackling the role on alternate performances.  I had the pleasure of attending the show when Yoakam manned the king's descent into madness and he delivered an expert turn of what has always seemed to me to be one of Shakespeare's trickier roles. It's difficult to make that tenuous line of perpetrator/victim credible.  Lear roams the stage in the early scenes as a villain, proud and powerful. Yoakam handles his descent into infirmity and heartbreak with care, allowing the audience the opportunity to recognize the ease with which we all may walk that line under the right circumstances.

Orchestrating that fall are the jealousies of Goneril and Regan, Lear's two eldest daughters played deftly by Kate Nowlin and Sun Mee Chomet.  Wielding their own weapons, sensual and literal, each fights for power with a viciousness and intellect matching the greediest of men onstage. These are not sympathetic characters, but there's a great truth there.  The potential for power is equal for men and women in Lear; the pursuit differs, but the calculation and passion behind that pursuit is well-matched. Nowlin especially paces the stage vibrating with barely controlled rage, and her scheming pulses with a sensual heat. These women will use every tool in their arsenal to claim the power they seek.

Surrounding this truly dysfunctional family is a tribe of genuine supporters and calculating manipulators. Jason Rojas and Thomas Brazzle play their roles of Edgar and Edmund, respectively, as perfect foils. Brazzle oozes bitterness and his snark provides some of the quickest laughs of the show. We all recognize that bitterness and Brazzle brings it home with ease. His conniving plots are tragically matched in naive earnestness by Rojas's Edgar, who descends (literally) into madness before emerging as his father's and Lear's attempted savior. Lear is a tragedy that works because it highlights the goodness surrounding the evil. We're always saddest to see the potential for rescue even as we witness our protagonist fail to recognize the need of that rescue.

For all my love for this production of Lear, I would also like to comment that the poster/artwork reminds me of Beeker from the Muppets.  So I'll end this post with that levity:


 Catch King Lear on the Wurtele Thrust through April 2nd. Get your tickets here.

Promise Land

Transatlantic Love Affair is a theater company with physicality at its core. The ensemble creates not only the connection between characters, but the set itself, with hinged elbows, squeaky-wheel voices, and expertly choreographed shapes. In Promise Land, those shapes lend themselves to an impoverished homeland, an ocean liner (complete with steerage and first class), a boardinghouse, and a factory full of flame and danger.

Without a scrap of set, the ensemble builds the world that brought millions to America's shores. And given today's political climate, that story feels all the more visceral. The hope in young voices is almost a burden to hear, knowing the risks and wounds that surely lay ahead. And as we watch the dangers unfurl and the promise of America dim with the slap of reality, it's easy to wonder how closely the story onstage mirrors the stories playing out among those who make their way to the America of possibility.

Promise carries the story, all quick 75 minutes of it, and while we witness optimism's steady unraveling, we're not left in that pit. There's survival built into this promise, and a strength that seems otherworldly. Our hero and heroine emerge from the ashes with hope and possibility still firmly in their sights and that's a message we can all use these days.

Promise Land closes its run at the Guthrie on Feb 12th.  Tickets are no longer available for online purchase due to the popularity of the show but give the box office a call to check for last minute seats!

King's Wine Bar

I admit, I've been avoiding King's Wine Bar, nestled on that delicious corner of 46th and Grand, since the ownership change and transition to a Pan-Asian menu. I loved my dear old King's and those masterful gruyere tots. 

But it was -3 last night and that bright neon sign signaling "Pho" finally made me bite the bullet and I'm SO GLAD I DID. 

The wine list is still fantastic and the list of local beers is great to see. According to the chalkboard above the still cozy, still intimate bar, a list of Trivia Mafia dates and 1/2 price wine Wednesdays make it clear this place is keeping some of the best attributes of the former haunt while they completely retool the concept.

We snacked on the spicy garlic edamame while we sipped our reds (Borsao for me). I had the Pho (I chose Korean but you can choose a host of proteins) and it was a warm, delicious, umami-packed hug on a cold night. My companion had the Korean rice bowl, piled high with delicious kimchi. We both had ample leftovers and I'm not sad about my leftover Pho lunch plans.

So if you've been like me and been wary of that neon Pho sign gracing the window of a former favorite, please do give King's a new whirl!

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

I will admit to being skeptical about this play. I loved the book and it was difficult for me to imagine a play doing the unique cadence of the book justice.  I'm happy to report I may actually like the play better than the book, a curious thing indeed!

Crafting a story around a central character who engages with the world from somewhere on the autism spectrum is challenging.  It's a delicate balance between exploiting stereotypes and investing in an often misunderstood perspective. Christopher, played beautifully by Adam Langdon on the night I attended (played by Benjamin Wheelwright for alternate showtimes), is immediately recognizable as That Kid from anyone's childhood: brilliant, impossible, socially struggling. Langdon perfectly captures the physicality of Christopher's world, aided throughout by expert lighting and sound that drive home the intensity of even the smallest action when one lives life as hyper alert, hyper aware, hyper sensitive.

The play begins with Christopher's discovery of the murdered dog of a neighbor, inspiring an obsessive desire to solve the heinous crime. What begins as one specific mystery leads quickly to bigger, darker mysteries surrounding Christopher's home life and each unraveling sends Christopher spinning.  While Christopher is certainly the driver of the story, he is anchored onstage by expert turns from Maria Elena Ramirez, playing Siobhan, a loving, dedicated teacher, and Gene Gillette, playing Christopher's father, Ed. The people who love Christopher circle him, sometimes from a safe distance, and attempt to help him make sense of an often nonsensical environment.

There is no perfect resolution to this story. For that reason, it seems to beat with a real, bloody heartbeat. It's noisy, funny, heartbreaking, overwhelming, bright, and in the end, beautiful. In other words, well worth a trip to the Orpheum.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is playing now through December 4th.  You can purchase tickets online at the Hennepin Theatre Trust and don't forget the rush seats available for students and teachers!

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Upton 43

Upton 43 probably doesn't qualify as a new spot anymore. But this blog is frequently evidence that getting to each and every "new" spot is a long term endeavor. 

I went to Upton 43, nestled in the beautiful Linden Hills neighborhood (yup, rough parking situation), for brunch. I'm a sucker for aesthetics and Upton 43 gets everything right on that point. Lots of natural light, muted whites, and gorgeous  stone settings. The silverware setting got its own photo. 

We ordered the fried Gouda to start, served with lingonberry and perfectly charred onion. It was so delicious I attempted some charred onions of my own that night. Imitation is the purest form of flattery, right? 

My main course was the open face salmon sandwich (not gonna try to spell the word). The combination of radish and dill will never get old for me, and paired with the perfect slather of butter on dark, toasted bread was just wonderful. I could eat that particular meal for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, happily. 

Our server was attentive and helpful, answering our questions about quirky (to us) words on the menu and sharing our love for the Bootstrap coffee they serve. I always pay special attention to how servers treat people who are waiting for a companion. I got to the restaurant a touch early so I sat at the table solo for a fair amount of time. It's easy to feel like a burden at that point, but our server was warm and welcoming and refilled my coffee cheerily. 

The clean, simple prettiness of the space echoed through the food and service. It was a truly lovely meal that I'll be happy to repeat soon. 

www.upton43.com

The Shining

I am not a scary movie person. I don't enjoy being scared, and as a single (grown up) lady I do not like checking my closet for murderers before bed.

That said, sometimes I can muster courage for the sake of a world premier opera. Such was the case for The Shining, which I was privileged to experience on their Social Media Preview night. 

Before I started attending Minnesota Opera productions I had a very specific impression of opera. It was exaggerated, surface-driven spectacle, leaving little room for the acting craft. But many productions by Minnesota Opera have forced me to reevaluate that impression and The Shining is a shining (ha!) example of that education in the acting artistry opera provides.

I don't think I'm giving much away when I say this is a story about madness. A descent into violent madness, on the one hand, and also a shimmering picture of a more benevolent quirk of the psyche that brings us, "the shining." And because both brands of madness can produce goosebumps, the story lends itself to truly creepy imagery.

The production embraces the power of Jack's hallucinations and brings them fully to life, gifting the audience with multiple skin-crawly moments. The chorus of ghosts tends to be jovial, even providing some costume-inspired laughs, and the torment they bestow on Jack, Wendy, and Doc strengthens quickly.

Jack's final blow and the resulting denouement tie a bow on the creepiness in under 2.5 hours, quick by operatic standards. 

Sadly (but happily for this production), The Shining has no remaining seats. You may still be able to purchase standing only tickets and given the shorter duration of this show, I'd say it's worth breaking out your comfiest shoes. 

Heirloom

We've had dinner on the books for a while but only decided on Heirloom in the last few days. I'm so grateful we settled on this spot, not only because it's a small hop from my house in South Mpls, but because I needed a bit of delicious simplicity today.

A glass of rosé ( I only remember that it's from the Canary Islands) paired nicely with my plate of Interesting Vegetables. A silly name? Nope, just very simply true. Perfectly cooked, delicious, earthy, and delicate.

I chose the freshwater fish (trout today) as my main event and I could have happily eaten a bowl of that crisped skin. But it was the pungent mushroom broth that I literally slurped up (with a spoon, because I'm not totally without class). 

I loved the simple, unadorned names for the dishes. Roasted Chicken, Interesting Vegetables, Freshwater Fish, Pork
Jowl, Brisket, Chocolate Cake. Each dish was clear on who was the star, but each provided subtle supporting roles to highlight the main event.

I left satisfied but not overstuffed, the portions are reasonable and kind to a waistline. So there's plenty of room for dessert. 

Really happy to add this spot to my list of not-far-from-home gems. 

If/Then

Some of the touring musicals that have passed through Minneapolis of late have been of the lets-make-this-movie-into-a-musical variety. I enjoy some of those shows, but they also kinda irk me as they seem like a bit of a cop out. New is good. Fresh is good. So I've been excited for If/Then at the Orpheum for a long time.

The plot is inspired by the "What If"s we all hear echoing in our brains from time to time. How would life be different had I chosen what was behind door number one instead of door number two?  Elizabeth, played by a stunning Jackie Burns, takes us down each path, and we meet one of her future selves, Liz or Beth, with each choice.  It's a fun, inspiring exploration on what it means to dive into a dream or a new relationship or an ancient love.

I love the premise.  I didn't always love the execution.  There's extraordinary talent onstage.  It was worth an evening just to see Anthony Rapp, as Elizabeth's old boyfriend, Lucas, perform. I just felt the highlights of the storyline, the excitement in the twists and turns of fate, faded through the second act.  If the show had ended at intermission, honestly, I would have thought it was brilliant. The second half just felt like all of the sudden the show felt it had something to prove, had to take a gut-wrenching turn in order to drive its point home. I don't want to give anything away, but I wish tragedy hadn't been necessary in order to explore the heartache of The Path We Choose.

That said, Jackie Burns and Anthony Rapp make this show worth seeing.  And if you happen to be at a crossroads of your own, bring some kleenex. The talent alone is inspiring and there were moments of pure, beautiful insight that held me rapt. What if, indeed.

If/Then plays through March 13 at the Orpheum Theatre.

Dear World

I first became aware of  Ten Thousand Things theater by reading an article in The New York Times back in November and kicked myself for never having seen a show. I was immediately inspired by their purpose, bringing the power of art to nontraditional and frequently under-served audiences. Performing in prisons, reservations, homeless shelters, and rural communities, the shows are staged in a way that blur the line between actor and audience, making that pesky fourth wall a thing of the past. 

When they're not performing at these nontraditional venues, the troupe is hosted at Open Book and Bedlam Lowertown.  Opening night of Dear World was at Open Book and I loved having the opportunity to see that new-to-me space as well as see a show.   

Performances are atypical for traditional theater goers as there's no dimming of the lights, no clear demarcation between stage and audience.  Performers are on the floor, at the same level as the audience, and chairs make a square around the performance. Actors frequently make eye contact with audience members, even engage with them at points. It was interesting to me to see how other people reacted at certain moments, to see how they cocked their head to one side or laughed or grimaced. It made the experience feel more communal, less a "show" and more a shared experience. 

Dear World tells the story of a band of artistic sorts in Paris confronting a band of evil Presidents ("they are all named President") who want to destroy their little cafe by digging for oil.  It's a hyperbolic story of the small and good vs. the big and evil and despite the fact that I'm an energy attorney ("energy" includes petroleum products), I loved it.  Any "evil" would have served the same purpose, somebody has to be Goliath. 

The actors were fantastic, with beautiful voices supported by live instrument accompaniment, the show was a quick 100 minutes with intermission. Sometimes funny, sometimes sweet, each actor brought a unique voice and authority to their role. I was especially impressed by Sheena Janson's dear Nina, young and in love, and Kris Nelson's Sewer Man, fresh off his role as Bob Cratchit at the Guthrie's Christmas Carol, Nelson brings gravitas to a seemingly comical character, depth around the edges of a lighthearted song. 

Dear World shows through February 7th and I highly recommend it not only for its own sake, but for the sake of supporting Ten Thousand Things' important role as a deliverer of art to forgotten pockets of our community. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Boss' Pizza and Chicken

 Yes, the possessive form of "boss" should be "boss's," this is correct.

Now that we're past the grammatical issue, Boss' Pizza & Chicken pizza is great! Mere blocks from my house, I've driven by this kinda dive-looking corner pizza place a million times but only recently made an order. I didn't know until it arrived that it was a thin crust style (thicker crusts and gluten free crusts available), and that was a pleasant surprise. Growing up in St. Louis, I'm a sucker for that style of crust, thin and crispy without being too cracker-ish. This was a really solid showing, definitely the best version of that crust I've had in the Cities. The veggie pizza is pictured and my church group also shared a pepperoni and sausage.  I ordered over the phone and despite ordering at prime supper time, the pizzas arrived in under half an hour.  I realize part of the speed could be my proximity, but I was impressed nonetheless.

Their menu includes a host of chicken options, too, and I've heard solid accolades from neighborhood folks for the wings.   I'm also intrigued by their broasted chicken, which I bet would win raves as a last minute pick-up for dinner. Whip up a couple easy sides, plop some broasted chicken on the table, that would surely make you a hero. You can also order any pizza topping/variation as a calzone. But for now I'm just happy to know that the corner spot minutes from me makes a great thin crust pie!

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

612 Sauna Society

As stated in the byline of this blog, I am not a native Minnesotan. I grew up in equal parts in Arkansas and Missouri, the former not being known for snow, and the latter not being known for snow that sticks around longer than a week. I don't consider myself to be a hearty winter-lover.  I'm a winter survivor. A muddle-througher. I feel like the 612 Sauna Society was made as much for me as it was for you crazy Minnesotan folks who like to jump in hot tubs and then roll in snow banks (*eye roll*). 

As its name suggests, the society is all about bringing saunas to the people and celebrating the lifestyle of sauna enthusiasts (which I did not know was a thing). It's a fun conglomerate of folks who love saunas, specifically saunas in the dead of winter. Recently the society teamed up with Little Box Sauna to bring their tiny box saunas to areas around town.  Selling tickets for $16 for 90 minutes, the sauna has just enough room for 8-10 people. 90 minutes is plenty of time, too. The sauna is split into two parts, a small changing area with curtains for privacy, and the sauna itself. My friend and I tended to stay in the sauna in 20 minute increments, taking a breather every once in awhile to cool off.  With the temps outside on a nose dive, it felt wonderful to really bake for awhile.  As the sauna was parked right by Blackbird Cafe, we trotted over there for their beer + burger night after toasting our insides thoroughly.  I slept like the dead.

Reservations are available here through Jan 17th, but hopefully the Little Box Sauna will pop up elsewhere soon.  It would be a fun thing to organize for an event, too.

Picture taken from the 612 Sauna Society webpage.

A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder

The State Theatre is my favorite venue on the downtown strip of Hennepin, all fancy curtains and ornate woodwork. And it is the perfect setting for the fancy, albeit bloody, shenanigans of Monty D. Navarro in A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder. I'd heard a bit of the music from this musical as I can never refrain from exploring the Tony-winning stuff, but I'd never seen the show.  I brought my kid sister and we thoroughly enjoyed this quick, witty, murderous comedy.

The cast is fantastic. Led by our hero (can we call him that if he likes to kill people?), Kevin Massey as Monty Navarro, and joined by a stunning John Rapson, who plays eight characters, sometimes in miraculous succession, the voices rounding out this show deliver hilarious asides with the same punch as a soaring solo. The ladies don't slouch either, as Kristen Beth Williams and Adrienne Eller, as Sibella and Phoebe respectively, inspire just as many laughs and rounds of applause as the leading men. I was struck by how quickly the 2 hours and 20 minutes (including intermission) sped by, never a dull pause. 

Murder is in the title, and it's central to the plot, but this isn't a remotely scary show so don't worry about bringing kiddos or fraidy cats. The house was packed last night for the opening, so I wouldn't waste time in grabbing tickets.  Showing at the State Theatre through January 10th, don't forget to check out the discounts for teachers, students, and military. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Equus

From the first chant to the final blackout, every beat of Equus pulses with a raw, prickling intensity. Expertly cast, and performed at a clip that leaves you wondering where the 3 hours went, this powerful take on pain, religion, and sanity demands attention. 

For those that don't know the story, Equus centers around a heartbreaking crime, the blinding of six horses, by the local stable hire. Brought to see Dr. Dysart  by the local authority in hopes that the good doctor can help him, the troubled teenager, Alan Strang, powerfully played by Kevin Fanshaw, sulks, stares, and sings his way through the initial meetings. Over time, as trust between patient and doctor grows, we learn more and more about Alan's past and his home life, marching us closer to the answer as to why a boy who so revered horses would attack them with such malice. 

In parallel to Alan's revelations, we learn of Dr. Dysart's increasing malaise towards his role. Burdened by the thought that in "curing" Alan he will essentially rob him of his purest joys, Dysart struggles to reconcile the job he's meant to do and the passion he begrudgingly envies in Alan. As the boy's story of lust and worship builds to a crescendo, Dysart's fascination with his beloved Greek antiquities begins to pale and crack in comparison. Dysart is played with astonishing skill by Charles Numrich, who deftly embodies a man empowered with both the ability to remove his patient's greatest source of pain and the knowledge that gifting Alan with "normalcy" will leave his life lacking. Frequently referring to the sacredness of Alan's pain, the sacredness of each person's pain, we begin to question whether the doctor's years of treating the most damaged of children has sparked in him a near worship of the damage. 

A bare stage is the perfect setting for exploring Alan's mother's near-lustful religiosity and his father's atheism, the foundation of Alan's trauma. Pale, tempered wood, not dissimilar from what you would find in a stable, houses every scene. Just as Alan's world is consumed by the horses, the audience experiences his fragility and passion in the context of a barn. Made famous for its nudity, this production reaches its climax when Alan and his almost-lover, Jill, strip in the stable, and Alan's reverence for his horse god causes a mental and emotional break that culminates in his crime. The choreography of that crime and the use of light to focus on that violence are expertly done, reinforcing at the play's near end that this is not a simple, impassioned moment of weakness, but a visceral, soul-tearing act of violence that shatters a boy and his already fragile family. 

This is a brilliantly done piece of work, and a thrilling introduction for me to the Theatre Coup d'Etat company. Make the time to experience this play and support this group of artists.  Playing November 6-23, Friday-Monday at 7:30. The small theater was packed for our viewing, so reserve your tickets early. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Minnesota Opera: Ariadne auf Naxos

Opera is frequently an exercise in hyperbole. The grand sweep from one emotion to another, the tragedy of love lost, the joy of love reborn, it can all become a bit exhausting and disjointed from reality. The best operas that I've seen have done one of two things, they've used that melodrama to heighten the purest of our emotions, or they've flipped the melodrama on itself, highlighting the common understanding that while not all emotions explode with operatic passion, we can all relate to the very human tendency to exaggerate, well, everything.  Ariadne does the latter. The opera itself, the play within a play, teases the audience with the ridiculousness of its self-importance, allowing for an overzealous composer and a haughty (with a voice to say, "and I deserve to be haughty") diva to provide numerous laughs at the expense of The Opera. 

I didn't expect to giggle as much as I did, which is to say, I don't think I expected to giggle at all at an opera. But the comedy of self-aggrandizing  and forced humility never gets old, we all love to see a diva teased. Running a fast-paced 2 hours and 40 minutes (including one intermission), Ariadne manages to surprise us not only with commedia dell arte silliness and routine snark directed at opera's superiority complex, but with a warmth that makes the teasing feel less cruel, and more the type of ribbing a sibling gives another. 

Commedia: Hey Opera, get over yourself. Life isn't THAT serious. Lighten up!

Opera: Hmph. 

Commedia: Cry a little, fine. But let's crack a smile occasionally.

Opera: Hmph. (Opera cracks a very tiny smile.)

Commedia: (winky face)

The vocal talent, as always, is astonishing.  Ariadne and her comedic foil, Zerbinetta, are equals in inhabiting a character with the voice it needs.  Ariadne's deep, creamy, powerhouse of tone expertly underscores the depth of Ariadne's importance onstage and off. She's a star, her voice the perfect showcase for why opera demands applause, and more applause, and more applause, please. Where Ariadne exudes depth and gravitas, Zerbinetta lightens the mood with wit and a shimmering soprano that seems capable of brightening the darkest rafters. Deepening the connection between these two characters, Zerbinetta is the one who highlights how much her comedic persona shares with the tragic Ariadne.  Just as Ariadne is trapped and heartbroken on her deserted island, so Zerbinetta finds herself frequently isolated and confused in a throng of suitors. The physical facts matter little, the heartache in each voice can sound strikingly similar. And therein lies the sisterhood of two warring forms of art.  

Ariadne auf Naxos is sung in German with English subtitles and, due to its easily understood plot, fast pace, and comedic lift, would be an excellent first opera for anyone on the fence as to whether the art form strikes their fancy. It's a beautiful, emotional, frequently funny less-than-3-hours of entertainment, and it would be a shame to miss out on these artistic fireworks (winky face).

Ariadne is showing at the Ordway 1st, 3rd, and 4th.  Get your tickets at www.mnopera.org. And follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite. 

Throwback BNW: Junk From Our Trunk

Having seen several of Brave New Workshop's shows over the last year or so, I was excited to experience some throwback hilarity. There were definitely several scenes I'd never seen before, and the ones I'd seen before were true gems. 

While I laughed often and still believe BNW is one of the best bets for local entertainment, I was hoping for more "throwback" in the Throwback show, more snippets I hadn't seen before. That said, a couple scenes I could watch every night and still crack up (Edina Innuendo, looking at you). If you haven't been to BNW before or it has been awhile (and your sensitivity to offense is low), you'll love this show. 

Stage Kiss

The play within a play is a classic trope. There's no quicker way to shine a spotlight on both an audience's expectations and the complication of Actors as Actual People. Sarah Ruhl's Stage Kiss, playing through August at the Guthrie, takes that theatrical construct and expertly uses it to highlight the worlds we build inside our heads, the relationships we paint in rose-colored tints.

He and She are once-lovers who stumble upon one another years later as costars in a decidedly awful play. The clumsy dialogue allows for 200+ stage kisses, each one opening teenage wounds and reawakening teenage desires. They find themselves falling in love again, "for a time," ignoring the concerns that drove them apart in favor of the thrill of rekindled romance.  The complication of a current husband, a current Nice Iowa Girlfriend, and the realization that they are still the same people that fell out of love years before, only slowly begin to unravel the daydream.

Peppered with laughter throughout, Ruhl showcases the self-consciousness of acting as much as the intense feelings tied to that first true love. From her first entry onstage, Stacia Rice's She bumbles and questions and worries over every word that slips from her mouth, every gesture, every direction. Losing that self-conscious patter only in her most relaxed moments with her lover and, eventually, her husband, She shines a light on that desperate search for a companion who lets you sink into yourself. As her love affair with He unravels and she finds herself craving the comfort of home and Husband, the lovers find themselves within another too-bad-to-be-real play. The stage once again provides the perfect environment for over-analysis and over-exposure of what was, really, a mistake.

Equal parts hilarious and touching, Ruhl's characters are expertly performed by a small but superb cast. Ruhl's hiccups of fantasy, plays on lighting and emotion, are brought to life by lovely staging and lighting, not an easy task considering the fluidity of reality and theatricality throughout the show.  A quick-paced show that feels shorter than its two hours (plus intermission), this is well worth braving the construction downtown.

Stage Kiss plays on the McGuire Proscenium at the Guthrie through August 30th. Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite.

Revival

As most are aware, I'm not a native Minnesotan. While I lost the majority of my accent years ago (give or take a few Southernisms that won't die), my soft spot for Southern cooking has only deepened this far North of my birth state of Arkansas. Both sides of my family are Southern-based, Arkansas and Texas firmly represented on my Mother's side, and Tennessee and the Carolinas gracing my Dad's.

We weren't a fried chicken family. I didn't grow up with Sunday suppers of the bird. But I've been eating pimento cheese since childhood and I've eaten hoppin' john nearly every New Years Day of my life for good luck. A jar of chow chow is bought as soon as we land in Tennessee, and I even made a bastardized version of it this winter when my Uncle Buck visited and requested the condiment (no, Uncle Buck, they do not have chow chow in Minnesota).

All this to be said, I've been waiting for the Revival opening with equal parts excitement and anxiety. My attachment to the sides is more acute than to the main attraction, Everybody loves fried chicken. And everybody has expectations when they eat fried chicken. But only a Southerner has expectations (a lifetime of dipping tortilla chips into Ruth's pimento cheese) when it comes to the sides.

The pimento cheese and meat plate is a sizable sharing portion for $13. We could have easily shared it with a table of 4, instead I was thrilled to bring home a serving or two, which I will not share with anyone. My night was made when I saw the small heap of chow chow beside the pickles. A sweet, vinegary condiment of shredded cabbage and celery seed (or maybe it was caraway seed in this version?), a bit of that bite perfectly pairs with the rich, creamy goodness of classic pimento cheese.  And the pimento cheese. Y'all, there's nothing fancified about this pile of glorious goop. I was worried that the Revival version would pale in comparison to my own recipe. But honestly, I believe I have to admit defeat on this one. I could have happily made a meal of the cheese and chow chow, and I'm sure at some point, I probably will. Pimento cheese is rich and needs a bit of tang, so the pickles and chow chow and a dash of pepper vinegar made for many perfect bites. The andouille addition was nice for snacking, but the pimento cheese is the star. The meat felt a bit superfluous, but maybe I have friends who love andouille and want to focus on that, leaving the pimento cheese to me. That could be the basis for a great friendship.

Revival offers three fried chicken varieties, classic Southern, Tennessee Hot, and gluten free, along with several traditional Southern dishes. The low country chicken bog with clams and sausage would have called to me on a wintery night, I'm sure. I always pick whatever is labeled as spicy, so the Tennessee Hot fried chicken was my choice. Offering a welcome kick to crunchy, perfectly moist  chicken, it'll be tough for me to ever order anything other than that gem. Along with the chicken, I ordered sides of collards and hoppin john.  Both of the sides were great, with a slight edge given to the collards because the combination of collards and the delicious Revival hot sauce was simply delicious. We split an order of perfect biscuits, all fluff and butter, with a tin of sorghum butter to further gild the lily. The sides run $4-$6 and the 2 piece chicken is only $7.50.  Split a 1/2 bird (five pieces) for only $15.  I'd be tempted to get a half bird, or even a full, next time, for the sake of leftovers.

The Revival space, housed in the former Corner Table home, is bright and unfussy. Despite recent Twitter stories of a line out the door, we arrived at 6 pm on Tuesday and were able to sit immediately. It was a packed, lively space, but not too noisy to still have a conversation. With that kind of crowd on a week night, I'm sure a table on a weekend evening requires a longer wait (no reservations, and they insist on a full party before seating guests). But if you're hoping to pop in and experience this delicious new addition, a weeknight would be an easy bet, especially if you're comfy eating at the bar.

As a frequent visitor to Corner Table, I had high hopes and expectations attached to Revival. I'm thrilled to know that every bite of this place is a gift to we Southern transplants. 

Carmen

Carmen was the first opera I went to, a beautiful, intimate production at Theatre de la Jeune Lune.  Like most people, especially the opera novices like myself, Carmen is accessible in part because so much of the music is recognizable. One forgets how deeply Bizet's melodies have woven their way into everyday life, each spicy, sensual vocal or orchestral dance bringing a smile of recognition.

That immediate recognition must make Carmen equal parts exhilarating and exasperating to direct and envision. The Minnesota Opera takes a classic and runs with it, embracing the heat and flash of the 1970s and delivering Carmen's sultry take on doomed love with the gusto it deserves. Sung in French with English subtitles, the three hour show moves at a robust pace. There were no yawning lulls, as even Micaela's heartache moves at a quick clip. Carmen's steady march toward destruction is made all the more dramatic by stunning visuals courtesy of top notch lighting and a beautiful play of shadows and light.

Performances are astounding. My only sadness was that Micaela was a bit dowdy. I prefer a brighter contrast to Carmen, not so much a housewife vs. a harlot, but an angel vs. a demon. But vocally these two women are a perfect foil, Micaela's soaring, pristine soprano offering a ladylike, almost regal, contrast to Carmen's mezzo-soprano sensuality and darkness. Don Jose is properly torn between this darkness and light, and the tenor perfectly imbues that struggle with the crazed passion it requires. Thankfully, he removes his sweater vest before closing in on his beloved, as I can't quite believe a murderer in a sweater vest.

Sweater vests are only the beginning of a costume parade that includes roller skates, fringed leather, and a pair of satin pants that makes Toreador as much a thrill to watch as to hear. This is a lush, sexy world and every inch of the stage seems to pulse with that sensual energy. Embrace a bit of tragic yearning and don't miss Carmen at Minnesota Opera, playing through May 10th.

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Anne of Green Gables

There are few books as dear to me as Anne of Green Gables. As a redhead, the Lucy Maud Montgomery series was very much a rite of passage. That level of affection always makes me a bit cautious in experiencing an adaptation, as no staging can improve upon what lives in one's head.

Happily, the Anne currently inhabiting Theatre in the Round is a warm, welcome rendition of the classic. The Sylvia Ashby adaptation captures Anne's specific capacity for joy and moves her story along at a well-paced clip. Although the show runs a long-ish 2 and a half hours (with intermission), it still manages to feel light, Anne's precocious childhood errors ("it's harder to be good when you have red hair") carrying the audience from childhood to adulthood. The first act enjoys the majority of the laughs, but Anne's quips provide ample humor throughout the show.

Anne is played by Mabel Thomas, a sophomore at Edina High School, and Thomas embodies the timeless heroine very well. There's a cadence to her delivery that reminds me of Megan Follows's miniseries version, and that's a pretty noble comparison. Thomas is quick and bubbly as childhood Anne, and grows more serene and thoughtful as Anne the Adult. It's a credit to Thomas that the evolution of Anne feels natural, childhood melodrama lending itself sweetly to adult enthusiasm.

Jane Hammill's Marilla is a stern, but eventually soft-hearted, foil to Anne's "featherbrained" imagination.  And Hammill, Thomas, and Rod Kleiss, playing the soft-spoken Matthew, have a loving chemistry that honors the Montgomery classic. Rounding out the supporting cast are Dani Pazurek, as Anne's "bosom friend," Diana, and Holly Windle, as the busybody Rachel Lynde. Together they provide just enough support and drama to carry our heroine through those difficult hair-dying years and into adult success at Queens College. Gilbert Blythe, who all Anne-lovers know is destined to whisk "Carrots" off her feet, plays a small but sweet role throughout, and Sean Gilbertson does a fine job playing the playful and persistent suitor.

This is a loving, often humorous staging of a beloved story, and Anne-girls (and their Gilbert Blythes) of all ages will enjoy it.  The show runs through April 12th so make sure you reserve seats for an upcoming weekend.

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The Drawer Boy

I get to Theatre in the Round infrequently, but that isn't for lack of interest in their book of shows. I was happy to have a free Sunday afternoon for a matinee showing of their current show, The Drawer Boy, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the production.

The Canadian play is one of the most frequently produced plays of the last decade, having garnered critical acclaim not only for its native production but for multiple translations abroad. It's easy to see the allure as the story is heartfelt, the characters interesting.

Set in Ontario in the early 70s, the relationship between farmers, Morgan and Angus, unfolds gently at the coaxing of their guest, Miles, a traveling actor working on a new play. Morgan's protective, gruff demeanor is balanced with easy teasing of the young actor, who seems a bit too naive when talked into silly farmhand chores like polishing gravel. And Angus's befuddled earnestness bounces from Morgan to Miles, carrying with it questions of how Angus came to be Angus, and why Morgan cares so much.

The real star of the play is that story, told by Morgan of his life with Angus, a dear, damaged friend. While the story itself is intriguing, at times the friendship between these men feels forced, even weak. Perhaps that's a natural weakness, borne of years of caretaking, and more a tale of exhaustion than failed feeling.  But sometimes the chemistry between the friends falters, and that slows the pace of a pretty quick-moving script.

Hiccups aside, the play is worth a peek for the story alone. Clocking in at under two hours, with intermission, it's a warm dose of friendship on a chilly evening. Only one weekend remains, so check out next weekend's final shows and don't forget the discounts available for seniors and students on Fridays and Sundays.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite or email me at TheMinneapolite@gmail.com.