We Won’t Pay, We Won’t Pay! But We Will Laugh at Frank Theatre’s Side Splitting Production

The Cast of *We Won’t Pay, We Won’t Pay!* Photo by Tony Nelson

We Won’t Pay, We Won’t Pay! is an Italian play by Dario Fo. There is no translator credited in the program, but Wikipedia informs me that in 1984 an English translation was published by R. G. Davis. I have no idea if this is the same translation, though it feels decidedly more modern in some of the dialogue than the early ’80s. The question of credit only comes up in my mind because much of the dialogue, particularly by the characters of Antonia and her husband Giovanni, feels as if it is being made up on the spot by the actors portraying them, Kimberly Richardson and Randy Reyes. The script is a series of escalating lies that keep building on each other until they are stacked so high that no amount of gullibility can support them, and they all come tumbling down. What we are left with is a sobering truth, one moment of seriousness that hits home in these times of $4 gallons of gas and $5 gallons of milk.

Set in Italy in the 1970s, when and where it was written, it uses the Auto-reductionist movement as its jumping-off point. The play opens in the apartment of Antonia and Giovanni as Antonia and her friend Margherita arrive carrying bags of groceries. Antonia explains to Margherita how she went to the grocery store even though she had no money left to buy anything, as inflation has risen so high that even without paying rent, gas, or the electricity bill, she still cannot afford to feed herself and her husband. She describes, in animated style, the mass of women who, upon seeing that the prices of groceries had increased again, decided they would take what they needed and pay what they could, or not pay at all. This is based on actual occurrences at the time, and it is starting to feel like an idea ripe for reintroduction.

Richardson is one of the most hilariously gifted comedic talents in the Twin Cities. Her previous performances in shows like The Red Shoes at Open Eye Theater and A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Guthrie are among my favorites of my blogging career. Both physically and verbally, she earns more laughs per minute of stage time than anyone else this year. Partnering her in leaps of outrageous logic is Reyes, who questions everything she says, leading her to make wilder and wilder claims. Then, rather than see through it, he internalizes and shares them as facts, embellishing them along the way. Not only are the explanations they come up with to explain things ludicrous, but the way in which the performers say them is priceless.

The play is performed in two acts with an intermission, with a run time of about two hours. The first act is the strongest. The second act is still very good, but it loses steam a little bit. I suspect what is really happening is that we are feeling laughter fatigue. We laugh so much and are so taken with the uproarious performances and script that by the time the second act gets about halfway done, we are ready to rest our facial muscles. Given the state of the world, the muscles used to smile and laugh are a little out of shape. That said, it was nice to exercise them so unreservedly again. If laughter is indeed the best medicine, I recommend everyone take two We Won’t Pays and call me in the morning.

Joining Richardson and Reyes are Maggie D’Ambrose as Margherita, Ben Qualley as various minor ensemble characters, Corey DiNardo as Luigi, Margherita’s husband, and Maria Asp as a Police Sergeant, Trooper, Undertaker, and Giovanni’s father. All are excellent, and there are some really fun moments of meta humor that seem to always revolve around Asp’s characters. As always, Wendy Knox’s direction is flawless. The pacing, the moments of physical clowning, everything is done with the absolute confidence that comes from a sure directorial hand and the trust of the cast.

We Won’t Pay, We Won’t Pay! runs through November 22nd at Mixed Blood in Minneapolis. For more information and to purchase tickets go to https://franktheatre.org/event/we-wont-pay/

Don’t forget to keep an eye on the new website 79 Seconds on Stage a free and full guide to local theatre in the Twin Cities.

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Kung Fu Zombies Vs. Southeast Asian Girl Scouts, What More Do I Have to Say? Thank You Theater Mu

Hope Nordquist, as Do-Si-Do, mid-zombie fight. Zombie ensemble consists of Finn Buffington, Chandler Clement-Oja, Lance Krohn, Cody Manh Do, Sri Peck, and Logan Bret Sapp. Photo by Rich Ryan

Kung Fu Zombies Vs. Southeast Asian Girl Scouts is the third in the Kung Fu Zombie play cycle. I saw the previous play, Kung Fu Zombies Saga: Shaman Warrior & Cannibals, but not the first in the cycle, Kung Fu Zombies Vs. Cannibals. If this is your first, don’t worry about it; they are all self-contained, and the exposition is given quite effectively in the opening. There’s a line in that first scene, which I will probably get jumbled, but it sets the tone for what will follow. The main three characters are describing the zombies approaching them, and just as they are about to defend themselves, they say, “And for some reason, these Motherfuckers all know Kung Fu!” They then engage them in the first of many well-choreographed fights. Is it all zombies, Kung Fu, and Girl Scout cookies? No, it is about a settlement of survivors, a community, and how they persevere in the zombie apocalypse.

Playwright Saymoukda Duangphouxay Vongsay states in her note in the program that she had been working on the play for two years when Operation Metro Surge began. She threw out what she had already written and rewrote it to reflect what our communities were experiencing. I have to say that it shows. I had a blast with this play, and I highly recommend it, but it is not as polished as the previous play. What she did in less than a year is astonishing, though, and more than worthy of its place in the Kung Fu Zombie universe.

This edition centers around three young women who are the heartbeat of their stronghold. They are named after Girl Scout cookies. Samoa, played by Dexieng “Dae” Yang, is their leader; Do-Si-Do, played by Hope Nordquist, is their muscle; and Thin Mint, played by Mia Angelica Onia Guzman, is the brains. They are all supported and encouraged by the Den Mother, “Mama,” played by Lia Rivamonte, who organizes the supplies, cares for the sick, and loves her romance novels. The cookies are all fantastic. At some point in the show, I said, “That’s my favorite,” about all three, though of course, outside of the play, we all know Thin Mints are the best, right?

There is a character named Gary, played by Benjamin Dutcher, whose arrival shakes things up a bit, but the less said about that, the better. Dutcher does an excellent job in a rare non-musical role.

There are two other standouts in the production, and they are the Violence Director, Mason Tyer, and Scenic Designer, Mina Kinukawa. The previous play, to my memory, had at least two acts. In the first one, I recall the fights were in slow motion, and then later in the play, we were shocked when the Kung Fu was in real time. Tyer doesn’t go that route here. Everything is at speed or close to it, but there is a lot of it, and the final battle features some rhythm incorporated into the action that was very effective. Kinukawa’s set is constantly in motion, but the transitions are fluid and never stop the play’s forward motion. It’s a jumble of pallets and corrugated steel that brings the apocalypse to life.

There are strong echoes of our current climate, but as we were shown this last Tuesday, we must keep living, we must keep fighting. There is a future worth fighting for, and our communities are worth fighting for.

Kung Fu Zombies Vs. Southeast Asian Girl Scouts runs through November 15th at the Frey Theater on the St. Catherine University Campus. For more information and to purchase tickets go to https://www.theatermu.org/kfz-girl-scouts

Don’t forget to keep an eye on the new website 79 Seconds on Stage a free and full guide to local theatre in the Twin Cities.

One-Shot, There’s a Triple Meaning in That, Deals With a Lot of Themes in a Very Relatable Way at Six Points Theater

Carter Graham, Nico Sacco, and Warren C. Bowles Photo by Sarah Whiting

A one-shot (also called an oner or long take) is a continuous, unbroken camera shot in filmmaking that captures an entire scene or sequence in real time without visible cuts. The title of the show is a reference to the shot that the two young aspiring filmmakers and video store clerks are filming for the movie they are making in the store after hours. It also refers to the characters’ hopes of getting into NYU film school on scholarships. But even in that sense, there is a double meaning, because it means something different for each of the boys. For David, the white Jewish boy, it is the only school he applied to. For Martin, it is his one chance, as an undocumented person living in the U.S., to go to college. All of these meanings seem appropriate for a show that is about so many different things, set among characters for whom movies have become the way they communicate. Video store owner Charles describes the former manager, who has quit to work at Blockbuster, by referencing Gaslight (1944, dir. George Cukor).

One-Shot by Andrew Rosendorf is having its world premiere at Six Points Theater. In his show notes in the program, Rosendorf describes video stores and movie theaters as his sanctuary growing up as a closeted queer kid in the 1990s. We see that reflected in the characters as well. The video store is like their closet; inside it, they can be themselves. The problem with a retail store as a closet is that it has windows. The window of this video store, at the opening of the play, has been vandalized with the word “Fagot” (sic) and a swastika, and later, the word “Spic” will be added. David is Jewish, Martin is Latino, and Charles is Black. They are all gay.

The window acts as a constant reminder throughout the play of what awaits them outside of the video store. The world does not feel safe for these characters, and now their sanctuary, instead of providing comfort, is a reminder of that fact. There is a plotline regarding the scholarships. Both boys have applied and hope they will both get in so they can go to NY together, because they are a couple. But when one gets in and the other doesn’t, the play adds another layer of jealousy and privilege.

There are a lot of ideas and social issues being explored in the play, and somehow Rosendorf doesn’t make it feel overstuffed. Even the issue of immigration is explored, though the play is set in 1999. It makes the ending feel as though there is still graffiti on the windows.

The three cast members, Warren C. Bowles as Charles, Carter Graham as David, and Nico Sacco as Martin are well cast. Bowles brings a fatherly touch to the role of Charles, who tries to guide the boys. His best moments are when he is talking about his passion for movies or trying to get across to the boys the dangers he faced when he was younger. Graham’s best moment is when he has to admit to his betrayal of Martin. Sacco is excellent throughout, the standout in the show. When he confronts David, you can feel the anger and betrayal in every word and movement.

As a film lover and physical media collector, I absolutely loved the set design by Brady Whitcomb, which has an added surprise in store in the final epilogue scene. I scanned the video store shelves looking for movies that were released after 1999 and am happy to report I didn’t see any anachronistic titles. One thing I thought was strange, though, was that in a play featuring video store clerks who are shooting a movie in the video store after closing, there wasn’t one mention of Kevin Smith or even a Clerks poster among the video store decorations. Missed opportunity.

One-Shot is a real treat for any film lover and a great exploration of a lot of different ideas that are still very much on our minds 27 years after the play takes place. The show runs through November 8 at Six Points Theater in St. Paul. For more information and to purchase tickets, go to https://www.sixpointstheater.org/one-shot-tickets-available

Don’t forget to keep an eye on the new website 79 Seconds on Stage a free and full guide to local theatre in the Twin Cities.

Jellyfish Shines in U.S. Premiere From Unlabeled Theatre Company at the Gremlin Theater

Joey Deegan, Maeve Linkert, Mason Green, Shanan Custer Photo by Jordan Buckellew

I’ve written before about Unlabeled Theatre Company, which produces theater with casts that include people with disabilities. Their shows have, until now, been musicals that pair adults 18+ with cognitive or physical disabilities with professional actors as shadow partners, performing the roles in unison. I feel I can never fully express how important what Unlabeled Theatre Company does is. Theater should be for everyone. It should reflect the infinite variables of our reality, it should allow for the telling of everyone’s story, and there should be a place for everyone to tell their own stories. Unlabeled Theatre Company takes it a step further and says everyone should be present and afforded the opportunity to tell any story. Someone who is neurodivergent or in a wheelchair should be able to play SpongeBob SquarePants or Nigel Bottom.

Jellyfish by Ben Weatherill is not only their first play, but it is also the U.S. premiere of this play. Weatherill stipulates that anyone who wants to license the play for performance must cast an actor with Down syndrome in the role of Kelly, a 27-year-old woman with Down syndrome. It is a limiting requirement, but a refreshing one. In doing so, Weatherill is undoubtedly sacrificing income in order to ensure that Kelly’s story is told by the right person. Representation is important. We say that over and over because it is true, and yet we constantly see examples where casting sidesteps it. I’ve loved the musicals that Unlabeled has done, not simply because of their mission, but because they have been well done. That is true of Jellyfish as well. This is an excellent script, and the production succeeds without needing any kind of disclaimer or qualifier. You shouldn’t come to an Unlabeled show as a good deed. You should go to see a show, and you should expect it to be everything any other show from a small theater company is.

Jellyfish is about a 27-year-old woman named Kelly who lives with her mother, Agnes. Kelly falls in love with a 32-year-old man named Neil. Kelly and Neil are happy together. They genuinely seem to get on well together, and the love is mutual. When Agnes discovers their relationship, she is furious and assumes that it is an exploitative relationship. Kelly has Down syndrome; Neil does not.

The play explores difficult-to-answer questions, and it’s telling that Agnes, who has been an advocate and caregiver for Kelly her whole life, is dead set against the romance. But why? Doesn’t every parent want their child to find love and be happy? How does that change when your child has a condition that involves even mild cognitive and developmental delays? Why does Agnes try to set up a date for Kelly with another man, Dominic, who is on the autism spectrum? Why, in her mind, is that an appropriate pairing, but Neil isn’t? Do we, on some level, understand her concerns? As the audience, we are shown the beginning of Kelly and Neil’s romance. We see that she is the instigator, that he is cautious, but that he also really likes her. We are given glimpses that allow us to be more accepting of the couple. But without that, would we also jump to the conclusions that Agnes does?

These are not easy questions, and there are no definitive answers. My first child, Alex, was diagnosed with Asperger syndrome, the same thing the character of Dominic is said to have in the play. Asperger’s is no longer a diagnosis that is used; it has since been merged into autism spectrum disorder (ASD). When your child has something, anything really, that makes them different, your gut reaction as a parent is to try and protect them, to worry about how they might be treated differently, and to worry that their options will be different from those without whatever it is that makes them different. Earlier this year, Alex got married. He is in Italy right now with his wife on their honeymoon. Now, a mild case of ASD is not the same as having Down syndrome. But my experience as a father, and having those impulses, particularly when Alex was younger, to try and protect him, does help me relate to Agnes on some level. But my experience as Alex’s dad now also helps me understand that differences and diagnoses don’t preclude people from wanting what every person has the right to want. Love, marriage, independence, even parenthood.

Maeve Linkert, who plays Kelly, is assisted by a shadow partner, Lisa Hanson. Unlike the traditional shadow partner process, Hanson does not act out the role with Linkert but is seated at the back of the stage and reads the lines along with her. Kelly is a big role, and I never had the sense that Linkert didn’t know the next line. I think Hanson was there for clarity of the line readings. The script is also projected on the wall to the side of the stage. In this case, to be honest, the shadow partner made it more difficult to hear the dialogue. I think we would have attuned our ears to Linkert’s line readings more easily if we weren’t trying to filter out Hanson as well. But it’s possible Hanson was there as reassurance for Linkert, too. As I said, Kelly is a big part, and if that was an accommodation Linkert needed, I’m glad she had it. By 15 minutes in, my ears had attuned, and if I ever missed a line of dialogue, I just glanced at the script projection.

What really impressed me about Linkert was her ability to bring out the humor of the play so effectively. There are a lot of dramatic moments, but the play is also very funny. It is in the extremes that Linkert is best. Her arguments with Agnes and a fight with Neil are powerful, and the light moments of humor are perfectly placed.

Shana Custer is a Stages of MN favorite, and it was great to see her tackle such a meaty role in Agnes. She invests Agnes with so many conflicting elements that it’s like she is a real person. Agnes is patient, Agnes is a fierce mama bear, Agnes is weary, Agnes is judgmental, Agnes is flawed, Agnes is real. Custer, always an effective comedian, is great with moments of humor. It’s the moments of confrontation and frustration that were the most enjoyable to watch, because we don’t often get to see Custer given the chance to play such a complex role as Agnes. I had no doubt she could do a role like this. We just don’t get to experience it that often, and she was so good at playing all these aspects of Agnes. Sounds like a great name for a band: Aspects of Agnes.

Joey Deegan, as Neil, has the very difficult role of playing someone not labeled with a diagnosis, though there are definitely hints of ASD (he reminded me a lot of my son Alex), who falls in love with Kelly. Deegan makes it clear to us that Neil is really in love, with no creep factor, which is exactly where Agnes jumps to. He has to convince us of their mutual attraction and of his character’s innate goodness, more so than in a traditional play, because we have to be on their side for the rest of the play to work. We have to believe these things in order not to lean toward Agnes’ alarm bells. Deegan is very good at playing off both women, creating a connection and a palpable sense of caring with Linkert while holding his own against Agnes, who is constantly attacking and threatening him. He comes off as the guy you want your daughter to meet, whether she has Down syndrome or not. Deeply good-hearted is a hard thing to project, but Deegan does it beautifully.

And finally, in a small but very fun role, Mason Green plays Dominic. His humorous line readings as he sits in Agnes’s living room waiting for his date with Kelly, who doesn’t know she’s coming, are great. They are the sort of honest, no-filter things that Alex has been known to come out with. Green feels just perfect in the role and is also very effective as a sounding board and friend for both Kelly and Agnes in later scenes.

The show is directed by Jessica Froehlich. It runs about two and a half hours long but doesn’t feel it. Jellyfish is an extremely good play, and given the requirements to perform it, this may be one of your only chances to see it. It raises a lot of thought-provoking questions and will make you reflect on and question your own responses. It’s also very entertaining and features strong performances by the whole cast. I highly recommend checking this one out, but it runs just one more weekend, so hurry.

Jellyfish runs through November 8 at the Gremlin Theatre in St. Paul. For more information and to purchase tickets, go to https://unlabeledtheatre.org/

Don’t forget to keep an eye on the new website 79 Seconds on Stage a free and full guide to local theatre in the Twin Cities.

Tuesdays With Morrie at Chanhassen Dinner Theatres is Inspirational, Funny, and Thoughtful.

Gabriele Angieri and Ryan London Levin Photo by Tom Wallace Photography

Tuesdays with Morrie is a memoir published in 1997 by Mitch Albom. It had an initial run of 20,000 copies. After exposure on The Oprah Winfrey Show, it made it onto the New York Times nonfiction bestseller list, where it stayed for over four years. It has now sold over 17 million copies worldwide and been translated into dozens of languages. Albom reconnected with his favorite college professor after seeing him on Nightline and learning he had ALS. The bulk of the book and this adaptation consists of the weekly Tuesday sessions Mitch has with Morrie Schwartz before his death. The production is less sad and much funnier than I anticipated. Did I cry? Come on, faithful readers, you know damn well I did. But Albom and Hatcher avoid easy manipulation and obvious heartstring-pulling moments. They are not concerned with making you cry; they are much more interested in sharing the wisdom Morrie has gained over his lifetime and exploring the love between these two men. Schwartz was a teacher, and these Tuesday meetups are his final class. He isn’t looking for Mitch’s sympathy; he is trying to help him be the best version of himself he can be. Like Morrie, the play is less concerned with dying and more concerned with sharing how we can live our best, most fulfilling lives.

The adaptation is by Albom and Jeffrey Hatcher, who is number six on the list of most-produced playwrights in America for the 2026–27 season. Hatcher, who resides in the Twin Cities, has four additional shows running locally this season. His adaptation of Dial M for Murder opens at Theatre in the Round on November 20. His adaptation of A Tale of Two Cities runs April 3 through May 23 at the Guthrie Theater. His adaptation of Rope opens at the Park Square Theatre on July 28, and his new musical with Glensheen collaborator Chan Poling, Love on a Stick, has its world premiere next summer at the History Theatre in St. Paul. I am a fan of Hatcher’s thrillers, whether they’re his original scripts, like Holmes and Watson or the recent The Butler Did It, or his adaptations of older properties, like Dial M for Murder and The Turn of the Screw. This is the first non-thriller I’ve seen of Hatcher’s, and it solidifies my opinion that he is one of our finest working playwrights.

The production marks the directorial debut of Twin Cities actor Serena Brook, who, along with directing this show, is starring as Miss Hannigan in Annie on the Chanhassen Dinner Theatres Main Stage. She’s excellent in that role, a standout of the production. As for her directing future, based on this show, I’d say it’s as bright as her acting career. The show doesn’t have a moment of fat on it. Brook doesn’t allow the actors to pause, knowing that those are the moments in which maudlin tendencies might peek through. She keeps it real, she keeps it moving, and she keeps the characters positive. In that way, she avoids emotionally manipulating us and allows the positive and inspiring messages to be the focus. We laugh too much to be sad, at least for too long.

Ryan London Levin and Gabriele Angieri play Mitch and Morrie, and their performances are naturalistic and filled with an easy humor that makes the audience bond with them quickly. Levin’s Mitch narrates the play as if he were looking back on it from beyond the end of the play. As such, he addresses us directly more often, allowing him to share his inner thoughts as well. This makes sense since Albom was the author of the book; he had those insights to draw on. Levin uses that to build an easy rapport with the audience, and it also allows for a stronger contrast to the emotional reticence he shows throughout his actual time with Morrie.

Angieri’s Morrie is alert, intelligent, and quick with a witty response. He’s also devoid of cruelty. There is a warmheartedness that Angieri brings to the role. He shows how effective a teacher Morrie is by using humor and little conversational moments to slip in his philosophies. He never seems to be teaching; he’s just talking, and when he finishes, you realize he made you laugh and somehow also shared something profound. The two performers play off each other so beautifully that when they hugged each other after their bows, it felt genuine. The best compliment you can give a performer after a show is that, for the runtime of the show, you believed they were those people.

Mitch is the character I related to, the one in whom I saw parts of myself. I know not everyone has that favorite teacher who was more than a teacher, but I did. His name was Ted Larson. He was my film teacher, my boss the summer I worked promotions for The Straw Hat Players Summer Theater program at Moorhead State University, my mentor, and my friend. Like Mitch and Morrie, our time together when I was in college went way beyond the teacher-student connection. We had dinners together, saw movies together, and he was a guest at my first wedding. And like Mitch and Morrie, when I left college and moved to Albuquerque, Ted told me to stay in touch, and I didn’t.

When he heard my first wife and I were getting divorced, he called the bookstore I was working at in New Mexico to talk to me, to make sure I was OK. I didn’t get 14 Tuesdays with Ted. I got two more visits. One was to introduce him to my second wife and Alex, our first child. I envy Mitch Albom that he got the chance to reconnect, to let Morrie know what he meant to him. Maybe if Ted had lived 15 years instead of five, I’d have had the chance to tell him what a more mature man came to understand too late: that I loved him, and that despite the fact that I had a wonderful father, Ted had also filled that role for me. It would have been great to thank him for all he showed me and taught me. And that, I think, is the most important thing Tuesdays with Morrie is telling us: say those things now. You never know when it will be too late.

Tuesdays with Morrie is running through November 29 at Chanhassen Dinner Theatres’ Playhouse Theatre Stage. It’s a much smaller and more intimate theater, perfect for a show like this. Smaller theater, but the same great food and beverage options. For more information and to purchase tickets, go to https://chanhassendt.com/series/tuesdays-with-morrie-2026/

Don’t forget to keep an eye on the new website 79 Seconds on Stage a free and full guide to local theatre in the Twin Cities.

Kunene and the King Provides a History Lesson as Well as a Study of Humanity Itself

Edward Gero and John Kani in the 2025 Shakespeare Theatre Company production (Teresa Castracane Photography)

Kunene and the King is flying under the radar a little bit, but it shouldn’t. I mean, here’s a play starring the Black Panther being performed at the Guthrie Theater. OK, so it’s the old Black Panther, the one who has stopped wearing the costume and just rules Wakanda as King in Captain America: Civil War before being killed. But hey, he was Black Panther! It’s been a season for high-profile performers, with David Strathairn’s performance last month in Waiting for Godot. This is not stunt casting, though, by any means. John Kani (Black Panther) is also the author of Kunene and the King, a play that draws heavily on his own experiences as a South African. I’m guessing that I am like a lot of Americans in that I know apartheid was bad, and I know about Nelson Mandela, his long imprisonment, his release, and his election as President of South Africa. I knew a little of the country’s tumultuous history, but, to be honest, not nearly as much as I should. I appreciated gaining a better understanding of where that country is now as well as filling in gaps in my understanding of its history.

Kani’s play is not a history of South Africa. It is set in 2019, but through the conversations between its two characters, we learn some of that history, as well as the ways in which it affected both South Africa’s black and white people. But it is also a play about two very different men who do find ways to connect, one of which is through the works of William Shakespeare. Kani plays Lunga Kunene, a top caregiver who has been hired to look after Jack Morris, an actor who has been diagnosed with stage-four liver cancer. Morris, who is played by Edward Gero, has been cast as the King in an upcoming production of King Lear and is working on memorizing his lines. The two men find an odd common ground in Shakespeare. It is Kunene’s remembrance of reading Julius Caesar in school that initially breaks the ice between the two men, who are uncomfortable with each other.

But while the men do share some laughs, this isn’t the kind of play where they become best friends. They yell and lash out at each other almost as much as they bond. In that way, it feels deeply honest. Morris shows his ingrained racism in his mistrust of Kunene. Kunene shows that he is a man like any other, subject to frustrations and anger. Neither man is a saint, and neither man is a demon. Which of us is truly one or the other? None of us. We all have the capacity to be both at different times. Both actors have moments of powerful vulnerability, and one scene contains spotlight moments for each performance. Morris has not made it to the bathroom in time and comes back onstage in just his shirt, carrying his soiled pants. Gero expertly plays the embarrassment, the shame, the frustration, and the anger that arise from this all-too-human moment, when his body betrays him and his mortality comes closer to the surface. Kunene is the victim of an outburst from Morris that is deeply disrespectful, and Kani shows us flashes of outrage and anger, and near violence. Both men play these scenes so that we understand their reactions, we recognize the raw emotions that lead to less than desirable behaviors.

The play opens, and the transitions between scenes are broken up by segments of song sung by Ntebo. This is one of the elements that makes this production really special. Ntebo sings in another language. I won’t shame myself by trying to guess what it is, but even though we do not understand the lyrics, we are entranced by the power and beauty of her voice.

The set design by Lawrence E. Moten III is of Jack’s home, and we are neither impressed nor underwhelmed by it. It is a well-crafted, realistic set. And then… it changes for the third scene to Kunene’s home in a transformation that is so astonishing it reminded me of the moment the train cars moved in the Guthrie’s production of Murder on the Orient Express several years ago. That scene change is almost worth the price of admission alone.

I enjoyed the performances, the set design, the singing, and the connection to Shakespeare. There was one little tidbit about Morris’ process that I found really interesting. I don’t know if this is something a lot of actors do or not, but he talks about translating the play from Shakespeare’s English to modern English. His explanation of why he does it makes a lot of sense and is a fascinating bit of insider knowledge.

Kunene and the King runs through November 8 at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis. For more information and to purchase tickets, go to https://www.guthrietheater.org/whats-on/kunene-and-the-king/

Don’t forget to keep an eye on the new website 79 Seconds on Stage a free and full guide to local theatre in the Twin Cities.

Twin Cities Horror Festival XV Final Six Reviews: Kalinga: Feast of the Fallen, Bicentennial Auger, The Sludge, Shed, Carmilla, and Music & Monsters: A Grand Guignol Double Feature

These are my final six reviews of the Twin Cities Horror Festival XV, and with these, I will have successfully seen and reviewed all 14 shows in this year’s festival. I don’t think I could have finished with a stronger lineup. All six shows I saw today fall into the bloody good category, which is the highest category you can achieve at the TCHF, at least in the system I just made up. Not only was every show a winner today, but the lineup also mirrored the diversity and variety of the TCHF.

If you haven’t seen everything yet, or haven’t seen anything, there are still six days left of the festival, and you now have reviews of all the shows to help you figure out which ones are must-sees. But listen, a lot of shows have been selling out this year, so don’t wait and see. Figure out what you want to see, go online, and get tickets. This really is the best way to celebrate Monster Month. Not only are the shows a blast, but the whole vibe of the festival, its atmosphere and community, is so unique. Find some time between now and Halloween, when the festival closes, to check it out. Here is a link to the festival website so you can get all the details and purchase tickets.

KALINGA: Feast of the Fallen is definitely a unique show in this year’s TCHF, and basically any year, really. Created and performed by Saath, a South Asian theater company, this is a show that involves extensive dance. The show reimagines an ancient South Indian tale of a great battle and the goddess Kali and her ghostly followers, who descend and feast upon the remains of the battle.

First of all, the dancing is amazing. To be honest, that is the one thing I did expect from this production, and I wasn’t disappointed. What I did not expect was the atmosphere they created, first by having a cast member wandering through the audience ahead of the show, creeping us out. And I mean that as a compliment! I love when shows engage with us in this way and create anticipation for what is to come.

I think I was expecting them to tell a story that could tangentially be labeled horror through dance. But this was a full-blown horror production, not in the sense that it was too scary or too bloody for anyone, but in the way they used many of the techniques we are accustomed to at the TCHF: props of severed limbs, some very cool and unexpected makeup effects, and strategic lighting cues.

This really was a delight to behold and very effective as horror dance theater. I hope this company returns to the TCHF in the future with new stories told in their unique style.

Bicentennial Auger takes over the studio space for the second half of the festival. Each festival, two shows share the space, one at the start of the festival and the second toward the end. The studio space allows shows to have more complex sets because they don’t have to be loaded in and out in ten minutes before every show.

This one features a great set designed and built by Derek Lee Miller. It’s an ice house, the kind used in Minnesota winters for ice fishing. It’s a great-looking set that also includes some surprises for the audience.

The story concerns two siblings who haven’t seen each other in seven years, meeting up to go ice fishing. There is tension between them, which we will come to understand. The show features great performances from the cast: Noe Tallen, Dave Gangler, and Jared Reise.

It also features effective use of music, no surprise there, as the show is written and directed by Sam Landman, who can occasionally be found DJing and whose musical knowledge is as eclectic as it is extensive. This is a man who wrote a They Might Be Giants musical but filled it with deep cuts rather than the band’s more popular songs.

There have been several very well-written shows at the festival this year, and this is right up there with the best of them. Landman has an ear for dialogue that sets his scripts apart from others. They are funny without relying on jokes and go in directions you do not expect.

The Sludge is a family-friendly show. It’s the one show this festival where I’ve seen multiple youngsters in the audience. That doesn’t mean it’s for kids; it means it’s for everyone. Shows at the TCHF run the gamut from gory and scary to quirky and funny, and this one leans very heavily into the humor.

The story follows two sets of mothers and daughters. One, Elliot and her daughter Viv, is going through a divorce, and the other, Drew and her daughter Harper, are the friends they go and stay with. Harper is a science nerd who discovers something she can’t identify in the woods and brings it home. This is the sludge of the title. As we discover, it is not the harmless piece of nature Harper supposes it to be.

The script is definitely funny, but is it as funny as the show itself? What I’m getting at is that a lot of the humor comes from the performances as much as it does from the script.

The one thing this show makes abundantly clear is that Rita Boersma, who plays Drew, is a Twin Cities treasure and quite likely the best line reader in Minnesota. I’m not entirely sure she can speak a line without eliciting at least a grin from the audience. Don’t get me wrong, the entire cast is very good and very funny, but Boersma makes sorting socks funny.

It was also nice to see Victoria Pyan in several roles, including Harper’s soccer coach. I’m really starting to wonder how this talented young woman flew under my radar until recently.

This is a very funny, all-ages-friendly show without being aimed at children. I enjoyed it as much, probably more, than any kid would. Written by Rachel Teagle and directed by Jenny Moeller, the dialogue has such a natural, off-the-cuff feel to it that you’d almost think it was improvised.

Shed is this year’s entry from TCHF veterans Dangerous Productions. Faithful readers or regular attendees at the TCHF might remember this company as the tarp team. They are known for being the theater company that actually tries to scare the audience. They are masters of pointing flashlights out into the audience to surprise us with jump scares involving how or what comes onstage while we are blinded by the light. They also generally put on the bloodiest shows, hence the tarp.

This one was actually a little restrained for Dangerous Productions, but what they did in terms of effects was extremely effective.

Jay Kistler, who is usually in Dangerous Productions’ TCHF shows, plays Jeff, a guest on a podcast. He’s there to tell the story of the Man in the Shed, but what starts out ordinarily enough becomes more and more bizarre as the host, Natalie, doesn’t just want Jeff to tell the story but wants them to act it out. Add in a third performer, who plays the man in the shed in his underwear and a pig’s mask, and all bets are off.

With this company, you expect the unexpected, and that certainly happens. This is bloody, to be sure. It has several genuinely frightening moments and also manages a few laughs.

There’s a reason Dangerous Productions always gets a slot at the TCHF: they never disappoint. They are the one company you can rely on to try and actually be scary. And let’s face it, when people think of horror shows, blood is one of the things that comes to mind. With Dangerous Productions, you know there will be blood.

Carmilla is an adaptation of the classic 1872 vampire novella by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu.

Every October in The Stages of MN household, we try to watch only horror movies. Now, Mrs. The Stages of MN, Micky to her friends, can’t really handle things that are too scary or too bloody. Therefore, we watch a lot of older horror movies, and this year, among other movies, we are watching the Hammer Films Karnstein Trilogy. The first film, The Vampire Lovers, is based on Le Fanu’s novella. This source material, you may be surprised to learn, predates Bram Stoker’s Dracula by a quarter of a century.

This adaptation is written and directed by Cara White. Carmilla is told from the perspective of Laura, who, under hypnosis, relays the story to a doctor who is concerned about her health. She is the focus of Carmilla’s desire.

The play is unabashedly erotic without being explicit. Carmilla is the prototype of the lesbian vampire. The relationship between Carmilla and Laura, played by Maretta Zilic, is less that of hunter and prey and more romantic in nature.

Zilic is quite good in the role of Laura, as is Mahmoud Hakima, who plays Gen Speilsdorf, who arrives at the end of the play seeking to destroy Carmilla, who killed his daughter.

TCHF Artistic Director Nissa Nordland, who is also responsible for the blood effects in the show, which are very well done, brings an air of otherworldliness to the role of Carmilla. Fitting for a character who exists outside the natural world.

The show features some great costumes and set pieces. It’s always nice to have a classic story in the mix, and I appreciated how White didn’t try to modernize or sensationalize the story but remained faithful to the themes and ideas of the original.

We talk about the variety of the TCHF as a strength, and this final batch of shows really showcases that aspect. Music & Monsters: A Grand Guignol Double Feature was the perfect show to end the day with because it is itself a showcase for that variety.

The first tale is very much one of those supernatural stories you’d get in an episode of a horror anthology TV show like The Twilight Zone or The Veil. It concerns a man who arrives at a boarding house to rent a room. He is drawn to the music coming from another tenant’s room. That tenant is violently opposed to engaging with the new renter or sharing anything about his music with the man. But is it to maintain control of the music, or is the music itself the one really in control?

After that tale ends, we get a series of quick, hand-related jokes and gags that are extremely funny and act as a palate cleanser after the more-or-less played-straight first tale.

Then we go into our second story, which is a take on the Frankenstein story. This mixes comedy with some gore and blood-effects work. There is excellent use of shadow work in the opening creation scene and the conclusion of the tale.

This show is definitely not for kids. There is an erect, though clothed, penis on display for a lengthy amount of time, and let’s just say things don’t end well for the penis, in a moment that is both hilarious and terrifying.

The four-member cast of Kaitlen Osburn, Nick Miller, Jesse March, and Kathryn Cesarz is very strong, equally effective in the initial dramatic scene, the silly, almost vaudevillesque bridging sequence, and the funny but also horror-heavy second tale.

Don’t forget to keep an eye on the new website 79 Seconds on Stage a free and full guide to local theatre in the Twin Cities.