Theater Ninjas’ production of [sic] is at the 78th Street Studios through March 15

Melissa James Gibson’s verbose, frenetic [sic] focuses on three neighbors, their mistakes, and their friendship of convenience.

Babette is trying – unsuccessfully – to pitch a book about history-changing temper tantrums. Theo is struggling to compose a theme song for the Thrill-o-Rama rollercoaster. And Frank is stumbling over his words as he dreams of becoming a professional auctioneer.

While they’re each counting pennies and hitting the wall with their creative pursuits, they’re making mistakes in their personal lives. Drunken hookups, vanished wives, jealousies over an ex-boyfriend who’s moved on.

[sic] shows the three repeatedly spilling out of their apartments and into the hallway with their ups, downs, arguments, and flirtations, before slamming a door and retreating into their personal prisons.

It was exhilarating and a little emotionally exhausting.

Left to right: Actors Ryan Lucas, Rachel Lee Kolis and Gabriel Riazi, as Theo, Babette and Frank in [sic]

There was little sleep, but who needed it when you were fueled by putting order to the chaos and a couple of martinis.

Although I may not have been a full-blown trainwreck at the time, I would have qualified at least as a fender bender trying to figure out what I wanted and making many mistakes.

Looking back, was it exhausting? Yes. But was it also an incredibly fun and invaluable experience? Definitely. And many good stories resulted from that time.

Which is why I loved [sic]. It made me recall working back-to-back shows on Sundays, punctuated by a riotous weekly dinner with the rest of the crew and cast. Or having a cigarette with my roommate on our apartment building’s front stoop, hoping we’d run into our neighbor Akbar, a local artist and chef who always had something interesting to say.

Director Pandora Robertson pondered in [sic]’s playbill “Why do we end up with the friends that we have? Why do some friendships last and others fade instantly? Do we really choose our friends?”

We don’t really have that much control as the characters in [sic] demonstrate. They’re brought together because they all knew the same mutual “friend,” someone we don’t meet, but hear a lot about from Babette, Theo, and Frank.

Much of [sic] rotates around the characters’ mistakes and their habit of pointing out the others’ in defense of their own

[sic]’s script runs at a manic pace, focused on the cacophony of the city and the at-times overly clever language of its inhabitants. I found myself having problems keeping up on occasion and missing a line here or there. However, the actors playing Babette (Rachel Lee Kolis), Theo (Ryan Lucas), and Frank (Gabriel Riazi) never waned in energy and thrust our focus from each tumultuous moment to the next.

Kolis, in particular, captured my attention and never let go. Her expressions and body language were always in sync with Babette’s shifting moods and whirlwind outbursts. Whether she was seeking a few pennies or support for her book (neither of which she got from anyone but Theo), her desperation shot straight to my heart.

Theo bangs out a not-very-thrilling Thrill-o-Rama composition while Babette and Frank listen outside his cramped apartment

The highlight of every Theater Ninja show is seeing how they use a performance space, whether it’s the atrium at the Cleveland Museum of Art or a common area between a few galleries in the 78th Street Studios.

In the same space where Theater Ninjas’ first run of Excavation had audience members wandering between multiple vignettes, set designer Val Kozlenko has built out [sic]’s intimate, messy apartments.

Even though each apartment is the size of a broom closet, it fully realizes the inhabitant’s personality and problems. I loved how each space was built at a slant, melding into the 78th Street Studios’ walls and support columns, creating a refuge where the characters could continue to torture themselves in private. 

[sic] will be at the 78th Street Studios through March 15 with shows on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Monday at 8pm. Tickets range between $15 and $20. Purchase them at https://squareup.com/market/theater-ninjas

Disclosure: I was invited to attend [sic] with a guest in exchange for sharing my opinions of the production. The opinions here are 100% my own.

Disclosure: I was invited to attend Theater Ninjas’ Black Cat Lost to share my opinions

The jisei, or death poem, is a tradition among zen monks and haiku poets – short poems written moments before death. Some are poignant, others surprisingly amusing. All are candid insights into the author’s last thoughts as death approached, regardless of whether or not they welcomed it.

As we walked into the Waterloo Arts gallery for Theater Ninjas’ Black Cat Lost, Obie Award-winner Erin Courtney’s play about death and our personal grappling with it, there was a table of colored paper and white pencils. We were each asked to write our death poem.

After last spring’s The Excavation, the one thing I’ve come to expect when attending a Theater Ninjas show is to be open to the experience. In their show choices and execution, the company, led by Black Cat Lost‘s director Jeremy Paul, is about taking risks. So when the blank cards were staring us in the face, we thought “why not?”

A good reminder for a Theater Ninjas show

Scott and I each penned our poems privately and made our way to our seats. Sitting down in one of the church pews, I took in the sparse space around us. Sparse but calming. I liked how they framed the empty art studio with a couple of wood-and-paper screens up stage and a window curtain or small vanity mirror here and there. It wasn’t overwhelming – an open space that was clearly designed to allow for a lot of fluid movement. Zen-like.

It managed to lure me into a calm that wouldn’t last for long. Within the first ten minutes of Theatre Ninjas’ performance, I was suckerpunched.

Prior to Black Cat Lost, the Theater Ninjas presented The Refrain, a short, three-person piece about two people discussing a friend who is on her deathbed.

It was about the memories you have of a person who’s vivacious, intense, and alive one moment, and then, suddenly, they’re not. The inclination to gloss over the bad stuff – a friend’s hotheadedness, unpredictability or selfishness. The guilt. Your and your friends’ different capacities for dealing with the loss of someone, especially that first time someone in your age group dies.

The December after I graduated from college, a close friend passed away after his car was struck by a drunk driver. I have no way of describing it except that it was a weird time. I was all over the place – happy when I’d think about my memories of Matt, hollow at other moments, hysterical, angry.

Scott and I on our way home from a college theatre formal. Matt in his pink tux on the right-hand side.

I’m only sharing this to explain why nine years later I found myself quietly ugly-crying at the end of The Refrain. Out of the evening’s two performances, Scott and I agreed afterwards that we preferred this one – the pacing, poetry and performances from Tania Benites, Ray Caspio, and Sarah Moore were ones we understood and connected with.

Fortunately, when the lights went down for a few moments at the end of The Refrain, I was able to regroup before the cast immediately transitioned into Black Cat Lost. 

Black Cat Lost is a collage – snippets of poetry, humor, philosophical meditations, dance, and interrupted vignettes between different characters – all about dealing with the loss of others and ourselves. Similar to our relationships with family, friends, and acquaintances, characters pop up, go away, and reappear throughout the performance.

Ray Caspio, Lauren Joy Fraley, and Sarah Moore, the cast of Black Cat Lost. Not pictured: Tania Benites of The Refrain

Although Black Cat Lost is disjointed, actors Ray Caspio, Lauren Joy Fraley, and Sarah Moore for the most part make it easy to ride along. Thinking back on their performances, it’s like recalling memories of a series of memories.

After my emotional response to The Refrain, I welcomed Black Cat Lost, which was moving and insightful in its own right but intentionally fleeting. It was a perceptive decision to pair these performances as they uniquely reflected on dying.

Black Cat Lost, a mix of dance, movement, humor and musings on death

As is the case with previous productions, a significant aspect of Theater Ninjas’ work is the nomadic nature of their company. Not having a ‘home theatre’ allows them to use different spaces like the Cleveland Museum of Art and Ohio City Masonic Temple and leverage the space as a character.

Black Cat Lost takes it one step further as the group’s first touring production. Last weekend’s performances were at Waterloo Arts; the Oct. 31-Nov. 4 performances are at 78th Street Studio-Survival Kit; and Nov. 7-9 will be at Summit Artspace in Akron.

This multi-venue approach gives audiences a chance to see how Black Cat Lost transforms in three different worlds. Like each of our journeys toward the inevitable, each weekend’s performance is unique.

On Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Mondays, performances start at 8pm. There is a late night show on Nov. 2 at 11pm.  Tickets cost $10 on Mondays, $15 on Thursdays, and $20 Fridays and Saturdays. Purchase them at blackcatlost.brownpapertickets.com.

Disclosure: I was invited to attend Black Cat Lost with a guest in exchange for sharing my opinions of the production. As always, my opinions are 100% my own.

“Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd. / His skin was pale and his eye was odd. / He shaved the faces of gentlemen / Who never thereafter were heard of again. / He trod a path that few have trod. / Did Sweeney Todd. / The demon barber of Fleet Street.”

Tom Ford in Stephen Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street disposing of one of his victims. All photos in this post by Roger Mastroianni, courtesy of Great Lakes Theater

In Stephen Sondheim’s macabre musical Sweeney Todd, you need an actor capable of capturing a man broken by injustice and tragedy, reshaped into a monster obsessed only with avenging his family.

Great Lakes Theater’s Sweeney Todd, running through Nov. 2 at PlayhouseSquare’s Hanna Theatre, has found that in actor Tom Ford.

An 8-season veteran of Great Lakes Theater, Ford brings a manic frenzy to Todd. With a theatricality similar to classic horror films, he’s a convincing madman bent on punishing the lecherous judge who wronged him, even if that means hurting others along the way.

In “The Barber and His Wife” and “My Friends,” Ford’s commanding voice digs into the character’s agonizing grief and isolation. However, he’s equally capable of switching on the charm and hilarity in songs like “A Little Priest.” 

Sara M. Bruner and Ford as the macabre misfits Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney Todd

He’s very well-matched with Sara M. Bruner‘s Mrs. Lovett, the amorous and, uh, “creative” pie shop owner who takes Todd in. Together, their barber-and-pie-shop plan serves up a well-fed (and ultimately too-closely-shaven) clientele, while giving them both what they want until the tragic climax.

It’s hard to not be eclipsed by the role of Sweeney Todd, especially Ford’s performance; however, Bruner holds her own incredibly well. Her Mrs. Lovett is racy, wild, and even tender.  

Together, they were magnetic. I was on the edge of my seat – either in suspense or laughter – when they shared a scene.

Bruner’s saucy Lovett serving up “the worst pies in London”

A little bit steampunk, a little bit a lot Expressionist Horror film, the costumes, set and overall vibe of the production are a fun (and seasonally appropriate) take on Sweeney Todd. As director Victoria Bussert commented during the pre-show Director’s Talk, there’s lots of leather in this show.

Todd’s floor-length black leather, strapped jacket in the first act, and then his red leather tails coat in the second are fantastic; while Judge Turpin and Beadle’s stunningly lavish costumes establish the characters’ excess and corruption immediately. 

M. A. Taylor as The Beadle and Darren Matthias as Judge Turpin

My love of Stephen Sondheim is well-entrenched. Assassins was the first show I worked on my freshman year at La Salle, where I was introduced to theatre. His scores are haunting and complex. They can also be incredibly challenging, not just for the actors, but for audiences.

Sweeney’s songs feature a lot of overlapping lyrics. On the one hand, this speaks to the chaos of London and Todd’s breakdown, but it can also prove difficult to understand at times. This was my fourth Sweeney and there are new things I pick up on each time.

Mic problems in the first act made it difficult to hear some of the songs. However, as it was the show’s preview performance that we saw, wrinkles are to be expected and worked out before opening night. Most of it was resolved by the second act, which helped performances such as Chris Cowan’s Tobias stand out later on. His “Not While I’m Around” surprised – and destroyed – me, in a good way.

Chris Cowan’s Tobias shows his adoration for Mrs. Lovett

Sweeney Todd runs through Nov. 2 in repertory with Shakespeare’s Richard III. As with Great Lakes’ other rep pairings, many of the actors perform in both. In this case, all but one actor are shared between the productions, which gives an audience member who sees both shows the chance to fully appreciate Great Lakes’ impressive talent.

If possible, enhance your experience with a Salon Thursday or Saturday matinee pre-show discussion. The performance we attended included a Director’s Night talk with director Victoria Bussert and Producing Artistic Director Charles Fee, which gave a behind-the-scenes glimpse at the production process. Visit greatlakestheater.org/calendar for performance days and times.

Disclosure: I was invited to attend the Social Media Night performance of Sweeney Todd in exchange for sharing my opinion about it on Twitter and other social media. I chose to blog about it and my opinions are 100% my own.