Arts & Entertainment

Exit Stage Right

Magical moments and forgettable flubs from 2005.

By Christine Howey 

The local theater scene in 2005 was like a giant tiramisu, dense with riches and goodies, but with the occasional gummy bits that necessitated careful excavation by toothpick. Herewith, a free-ranging summary of the year that just flashed by.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life, unless you're dead.
There's nothing to raise your spirits like a show about impending death. But in the Play House's adaptation of Tuesdays With Morrie, many of Morrie Schwartz's epigrammatic insights ("Try to be as human as you can be") felt shallower than they did in Mitch Albom's best-selling book -- or even when he read them on Nightline.

A more compelling portrait of the nearly dead was served up in Dobama's The Exonerated. Consisting of testimonies from death-row inmates who were convicted of crimes they didn't commit and dangled over the pit of eternity for up to 22 years, the show was stark and bracingly hypnotic, thanks in part to the direction of Joel Hammer.

Good news: The cast-party buffet's all yours.
Many actors dream of performing a one-person show, since there's no one else to share the spotlight or muck up the timing. There were some bravura solo productions in 2005, including Nina Domingue's Mo Pas Connin -- or Torment, which she also wrote. Performed as part of Cleveland Public Theatre's Black Box series, the show crafted an amazing collection of New Orleans characters beset by phantoms real and imaginary. Best of all, Mo Pas will be mounted as a full production at CPT in February.

At the Play House, Mark Nelson turned in a memorable rendition of the cross-dressing survivor of Nazi and Communist regimes in I Am My Own Wife. Portraying more than two dozen characters, Nelson made this intriguing play come alive, even if the central character remained frustratingly elusive. It left a better taste than the Play House's Bad Dates, in which Judith Hawking overemoted about relationship dystopia.

Most Compelling Composer: Amadeus at Great Lakes Theater Festival. Played by Ben Nordstrom, Wolfie was a symphony of juvenile excess and genius.

Most Compelling Conductor: Convergence-Continuum's Battery, set in a cheesy electrical-repair shop, where the men tried to jump-start the women.

When plays feel like work.
Often, the best plays are a challenge to grapple with, although some audiences would rather avoid the effort. But for those who enjoy some mental arm wrestling, there were productions last year that filled the bill. The Designated Mourner at Cleveland Public Theatre set up a struggle between intellectuals and lowbrows, after the "dirt eaters" had taken over the government. Playwright Wallace Shawn piled arguments about morality and self-awareness into a verbose yet stimulating evening of ideas.

Likewise, in Long Day's Journey Into Night, by Eugene O'Neill, Ensemble Theatre mounted an enthralling look into a family's codependent dysfunctions.

The goat's in his Winnebago, and he's not to be disturbed.
Word had it that the expired goat that appeared near the conclusion of the Dobama production The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia? actually traveled around the country, following productions of this unique and involving play by Edward Albee. In any case, it made for the season's most startling entrance, as the carcass was carried, dripping fake blood, by Tracee Patterson. Good as the goat was, Patterson owned the stage in a performance that dazzled from start to finish.

Best Play Set in a Bar: Johnnie Taylor Is Gone at Karamu. Spot-on characters that were genuine and oh so funny.

Worst Bar Set in a Play: The Family Line at Karamu. The bartender poured a gin and tonic from a Jack Daniel's bottle.

Why don't little girls fart? Because they don't have assholes till they're married.
Yes, no matter how sophisticated we pretend to be, we're all suckers for potty humor. And the past months served up plenty of those pleasures -- all, curiously enough, at Beck Center. The Imaginary Invalid, an enema-centered comedy by Molière, was given a rousing interpretation, with Matthew Wright as the flagrantly dissipated aristocrat who never met a butt nozzle he didn't adore. Director Timothy Mooney whipped the pace to a sitcom frenzy and kept the laughter pooting right along.

There were also some ripe bathroom gibes in Polish Joke at Beck, in which an Irishwoman claimed, "I feel as fine as the first good fart after a plate of cooked cabbage!" This extended poke in the ribs at all Polacks by David Ives, under the deft direction of Jerrold Scott, benefited from a talented cast that knew how to deliver offbeat and borderline offensive material with guiltless glee.

Urinetown was also golden, as it explored the privatization of commodes with a capital Pee.

The family that's weird together stays together.
They don't come much stranger than the Sycamore clan in You Can't Take It With You, the classic comedy that was given a rib-tickling and warmly human presentation at the Great Lakes Theater Festival.

The Sycamores' worthy heir was the wacko brood in CPT's Stone Cold Dead Serious, with its constant QVC shopping, videogame obsessions, and a snake-draped stripper.

If you spontaneously break into song during conversations today, you'll be hooked up to a Thorazine drip by nightfall. Which explains why we love musicals.
Most of us with a gram of imagination are attracted to the completely daft idea of people singing their innermost thoughts. And last year was a treasure trove of noteworthy musicals.

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