A Chorus Line Dazzles at Park Square Theatre

The Cast of *A Chorus Line* Photo by Dan Norman

Faithful readers will be aware of the group of performers my wife calls her “All Is Calm Boys”, anyone who has appeared in her favorite show, All Is Calm at Theater Latté Da. Well, I’ve decided I have my own version: the “Lizzie Quartet,” the four actors who performed last fall in Lizzie: The Rock Musical, Grace Hillmyer, Lux Mortenson, Abilene Olson, and Marley Ritchie. It’s been an excellent week on that front: I saw Lux Mortenson in Terce on Sunday at Theatre Elision, and now Marley Ritchie in A Chorus Line at Park Square Theatre. Both performances reinforced my feeling that I should make an effort to see everything they’re in.

If you missed Terce, you missed out, Sunday was its final performance, which is why I didn’t write a review. Don’t make the same mistake with A Chorus Line. Get tickets early in the run: they’ve been using multiple understudies at every performance and have already had to cancel one show. I’m not sure of the exact reason, but I suspect dance-related injuries play a role. Once you see the show, you’ll understand why.

Originally conceived, directed, and choreographed by Michael Bennett on Broadway in 1975, A Chorus Line is a physically demanding piece. Park Square has brought in Eddie Gutiérrez, representing the Michael Bennett Estate, to restage the original choreography, and it is intense and absolutely jaw-dropping. At one point, 19 dancers move in perfect synchronization, and it’s truly something to behold.

If you’re hesitant because you’re “not a dance person,” don’t let that stop you. This isn’t about Dance with a capital “D”, it’s about the dancers. And much of the choreography falls squarely into the crowd-pleasing category, the kind that even your farmer uncle would watch and say “Wow! That there is some perty fancy footwork, that was real neat fer sure!”.

The show is set at an audition for the dance chorus of a new Broadway production. The Director and Choreographer, Zach, played by Stages of MN favorite Tyler Michaels King, must cut the field from 24 dancers down to eight. After an initial round, the group is reduced to 17, and Zach asks them to line up and tell him about themselves. Through these monologues and songs, we learn who they are, where they come from, what they’ve endured, and why they dance. Each story is distinct, and each adds another layer to the whole.

With 17 characters, it’s impossible to cover every performance in detail, but suffice it to say that everyone, including the five understudies performing at the show I attended, feels ideally cast. That includes Tyler Michaels King, who not only anchors the show but also joins the ensemble in song and dance at the beginning and end. We all know he is a fantastic singer and dancer. But the role also draws on his experiences as the Artistic Director of Trademark Theater and his work as a Director. I’ve seen him wearing those hats over the years and those experiences of running a room and giving notes, but also encouraging and being compassionate inform this performance.

Two performances stood out in particular. Steven Rada, as Paul, delivers a deeply moving turn. Paul is initially reluctant to open up, but when he finally does, while the others are on break, his story lands with emotional force. His eventual injury has a profound impact on the room, a stark reminder that a single moment can end a dancer’s career. It prompts Zach to ask the group what they would do if they could no longer dance, exposing a vulnerability that feels especially resonant in a time when the arts themselves are under attack. When theater’s like our beloved Jungle Theater, have to cancel productions. I’m sure for this group of performers, having just recently gone through the Covid era when theaters were shuttered, that the thought of what they would do if they couldn’t do this, feels very close to home.

That moment leads directly into the show’s emotional peak: “What I Did for Love,” performed by Marley Ritchie, one of my “Lizzie Quartet,” in the role of Diana. Her rendition is stunning. It isn’t the dancing, as she plays it almost completely still, it is her vocals and acting that are completely captivating. Interestingly, when I looked back at the only other time I’ve seen a production of A Chorus Line, in 2023 at Lyric Arts, it was also Marley Ritchie that I singled out for her performance of this song.

The show runs 2 hours and 8 minutes with no intermission, and evening performances begin at 7:00 p.m. rather than the customary 7:30, so plan accordingly. If you’ve never seen A Chorus Line, this is an excellent opportunity. If you have, I’d wager you haven’t seen it staged quite like this. Either way, don’t let it pass you by.

A Chorus Line runs through June 14 at Park Square Theatre in St. Paul. For more information and tickets go to https://www.parksquaretheatre.org/

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Courting Harry Looks at a Friendship Destroyed By the Supreme Court at History Theatre

Pearce Bunting, John Middleton, Bonni Allen, Jonathan Feld, EJ Subkoviak, Eva Gemlo Photo by Rick Spaulding

Courting Harry is my second show of the weekend dealing with constitutional law, which is an odd coincidence, right? Like What the Constitution Means to Me, this play has taken on new meaning in the short time since it premiered thirteen years ago. Several moments land differently now, particularly those dealing with Roe v. Wade, which has been overturned since the play’s debut. Another comes when Warren Burger comments on maintaining decorum and societal standards, things we’ve all watched erode over the past decade.

If you read my review of What the Constitution Means to Me and are worried I’m about to go off the deep end again, I promise I’ll try to stick to the production this time.

Courting Harry, by Lee Blessing, is adapted from Linda Greenhouse’s book on Supreme Court Justice Harry Blackmun. It focuses on his lifelong friendship with Warren Burger, whom he met in kindergarten in St. Paul. The two remained close for decades, but their relationship soured when they found themselves serving together on the Supreme Court, increasingly on opposite sides of the Court’s decisions.

Director Joel Sass, who also serves as set designer, as he often does at Open Eye Theatre, where he is the Artistic Director, stages the action in a kind of afterlife. Blackmun and Burger narrate the story in the first person, surrounded by shelves of bankers boxes containing everything Blackmun ever wrote. These boxes, which Greenhouse used as the basis for her book, become the source material for the play itself. From them, the two men pull notes, drafts, and letters, reconstructing, and arguing over, the details of their relationship.

It’s an engaging story about two kids from St. Paul who made good and went on to shape American society in profound ways. Pearce Bunting as Warren Burger and John Middleton as Harry Blackmun capture the rhythms of a lifelong friendship, the interruptions, the shorthand, the casual needling, and the deeper tensions underneath it all.

History Theatre once again makes history feel immediate and human by telling it through people rather than just facts. There’s a lingering sense that these men might have wished they’d chosen a different path, one that would have allowed them to remain friends. The play reminds us that Supreme Court justices are, first and foremost, people. They were once children; they have families and friendships; and like all of us, they have made, and lost, relationships over their beliefs.

Courting Harry runs through June 7th at the History Theatre in St. Paul. For more information and to purchase tickets go to https://www.historytheatre.com/2025-2026/courting-harry

What the Constitution Means to Me is a Sobering Experience at Artistry

Mackynzie Ganbaatar and Stephanie Cousins Photo by Alyssa Kristine Photography

What the Constitution Means to Me is a relatively recent play, written, I imagine, in response to the first Trump administration by Heidi Schreck. In some ways, it’s a memory play, drawn from Schreck’s experience competing in constitutional debate competitions to earn college money. But as the piece progresses, the character of Schreck sheds her 15-year-old self, and the performance shifts into something more direct, more urgent, as she speaks as her adult self.

Much of the show focuses on women’s rights and abortion, but it also touches on immigration and broader questions of who the Constitution actually protects. Watching it now, it’s hard not to feel that if it were written today, it would go even further, because things have gone even further.

There’s a moderator, played here by Dan Hopman, and at the end the structure breaks open. The actor playing Schreck, Stephanie Cousins, drops the role, introduces herself, and brings out a local student debater. They argue whether the Constitution should be abolished, with an audience member serving as the final judge.

It’s sobering. It’s powerful. It’s deeply thought-provoking.

Or at least it was in 2018.

Now, with the benefit, or burden, of everything that’s happened since, it lands differently. Not while you’re watching it. Schreck’s script is laced with humor; it’s engaging, even disarming in the moment. The weight hits later, on the drive home, or when you sit with it. Or, in my case, when you’re asked to be the judge and actually decide.

Both sides make compelling arguments. But as I stood there considering them, I had a sinking realization: it doesn’t matter.

I used to think, naively, that our political divide was about different ideas of what’s best for the country. I was raised in the Christian faith, and thus I aligned myself with Democrats, as they are clearly the party of compassion. Even in high school, I couldn’t reconcile that with what I saw from Republicans. The hypocrisy was obvious to me at fourteen. I never understood how so many people couldn’t see it.

I understand now. People see what they want to see, especially when it gives them permission to believe or do terrible things.

But even after realizing that, I still believed there were guardrails. That the Constitution would ultimately protect us.

It took Trump, someone who doesn’t even pretend otherwise, to shatter that illusion. Someone who openly operates in his own self-interest, who uses power to enrich himself and those around him. A man with no moral compass, a convicted sexual assaulter, and worse. Someone who installs loyalists and media personalities into positions of power precisely because they will do what he says. Someone who, every time he speaks, demonstrates his disregard for the Constitution itself.

And nothing happens.

That’s the realization that settles in: the Constitution doesn’t protect us. It protects those who know how to manipulate it. Those who twist it. And when they can’t, they ignore it, and still, nothing happens. It becomes a tool to maintain power, not to check it.

So I voted to abolish it.

But even that feels futile. Because who writes the new Constitution? The same people who benefit from the current one. The same power structures. The same imbalance.

If this sounds like I didn’t like the show, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I loved it. I think everyone should see it.

But it forces you to think, and right now, thinking leads to some very dark places. Maybe this is just what it means to finally grow up politically: to recognize that the country doesn’t stand for what it claims to stand for. Maybe it never did. And when you see how many people continue to support all of this, it’s hard to believe it ever could.

I don’t know how you overcome that level of willful ignorance and/or evil.

And yet… if there is a way forward, it probably starts with exactly this kind of conversation. With work like this. With people sitting in a room together and actually engaging with these questions.

What the Constitution Means to Me runs through June 7 at Artistry in Bloomington. For more information and tickets go to https://artistrymn.org/constitution

Once Upon a Mattress is a Beautiful Thing When Performed By Unlabeled Theatre Co.

Rachel Moquist and Mason Green (foreground) Natalie McComas and Adam Arnold (shadow Partners) Photo by Jordan Buckellew / JoyByJo.com

Faithful readers will know that I reviewed Once Upon a Mattress just under three weeks ago at Lakeshore Players, and I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about it. So why would I sit through it again so soon?

Because it’s being mounted by one of my favorite theater companies, Unlabeled Theatre Co.

This company exists to create opportunities for adults with disabilities to participate in theater. Every role is performed by an actor with a cognitive and/or physical disability or who is neurodivergent, paired with a neurotypical Shadow Partner. Together, the two performers share the role, performing it in unison. It sounds like it shouldn’t work, but it absolutely does, and it’s beautiful.

My chief concern with the Lakeshore Players production was the source material, which I found unfocused and nearly three hours long with an intermission. The first thing this production does right is cut the show down to a sharp, focused 70 minutes with no intermission. Gone is all the extraneous business, none of it missed. Unlabeled’s production hits all the key plot points, makes the story much easier to follow, and still includes all the best songs. About the only thing I missed was some comic business between the Queen and her son that helps clarify her motivations.

The plot adapts the familiar fairy tale of The Princess and the Pea, told in a fractured fairy tale style. In this kingdom, no one can marry until the Prince does. His mother, the Queen, devises such diabolical tests that every princess fails, largely because she has an unhealthily close relationship with her son and doesn’t actually want him to marry. Among those desperate to find the Prince a bride are Sir Harry and the pregnant Lady Larkin. Sir Harry ventures over the mountains and through the woods, not to Grandmother’s house, but to the swampy kingdom of the Marshlands and returns with Princess Winnifred, setting the Queen’s test in motion.

The cast is terrific and received a boisterous, well-deserved standing ovation. We often focus on our own enjoyment of a show, which is important, of course. But in a production like this, what stands out first is how much the cast is enjoying themselves, and that joy is infectious. It made the evening even more rewarding, if that’s possible. I can only imagine the pride the Shadow Partners feel watching their partners rise to the occasion and fully realize their potential as performers and storytellers. There may not be a more fulfilling acting experience in the Twin Cities.

Attending an Unlabeled Theatre Co. production feels like receiving a gift, a rare and meaningful one. It reminds us of the true power of theater: not just to entertain or instruct, but to create, to connect, and to share joy. You can’t watch this cast without recognizing the value of inclusivity and the sense of purpose these actors bring, not just in performing, but in performing well. They are fulfilling that deeply human need to tell stories and to foster empathy.

In a world where it can be hard to understand how people can remain unmoved by cruelty or contradiction, experiences like this matter. If anything can shift perspective, even just a little, it might be something like this: an honest, joyful, inclusive act of storytelling.

The last Unlabeled Theatre production sold out its entire run, and tonight’s performance had only a handful of empty seats. Get your tickets now, this is the kind of show that can restore your faith in humanity.

Once Upon a Mattress runs through May 24th at the Gremlin Theatre in St. Paul. For more information and tickets, visit https://unlabeledtheatre.org/

Fefu and Her Friends an Intimate Site Specific Play Staged by Theatre Pro Rata at the Searle Mansion Feels Like Eavesdropping

Christy Johnson, Brettina Davis, Jessica Winingham Photo by: Alex Wohlhueter

Fefu and Her Friends really feels as if you’re eavesdropping on a gathering of friends at the spacious country home of Fefu, played with breezy naturalism by Jessica Winingham. It’s set in the 1930s but written in the 1970s. The characters dress and observe the customs of the earlier era, but much of their behavior reflects the playwright’s feminist perspective. The result feels like a glimpse into how people might have actually behaved outside of literature and film, how longtime friends really spoke to one another and the emotions they allowed themselves to express.

Everything about this production, from the setting to the performances, works to be anti-theatrical, breaking down the barrier between actor and audience. Not through participation (there’s none of that), but through proximity. The audience follows the performers throughout the beautiful Searle Mansion on Lake of the Isles in Minneapolis. Without the usual dividing line between stage and house, the sense of “performance” all but disappears. The actors don’t need to project or exaggerate; we’re sitting close enough to touch them. The result feels more like film acting, subtle, intimate, and immersive.

There isn’t much of a traditional plot, and for once, that doesn’t feel like a drawback. The women have gathered to prepare for a fundraising event, but that’s largely incidental. Instead, we get fragments of conversation, glimpses of relationships, and small revelations. One of the more unusual elements is the character of Julia, whose empathy for animals takes on a surreal and tragic dimension.

The structure is as unconventional as the storytelling. The entire piece runs about 90 minutes. Act One, roughly 25 minutes, unfolds in the living room, introducing the characters. For Act Two, the audience is divided into four groups, each led to a different room in the mansion to watch a short scene. After eight or nine minutes, groups rotate to another room and another scene, until all have been seen. The audience then reconvenes in the living room for a final act of about 25 minutes.

A lot happens in that short span, and yet, in another sense, very little does. M’colleague Jill from Cherry and Spoon remarked that she’d happily watch a 10-episode Netflix series about these characters, which perfectly captures the experience. You’re drawn in not by plot, but by the people themselves. You simply want to spend more time with them. Listening to them talk is the point, and it’s consistently fascinating.

The performances are wonderfully unmannered across the board, and those that lean more theatrical feel intentionally so. Jessica Winingham is excellent as Fefu, evoking a grounded, realistic version of a 1930s screwball heroine. Equally compelling are the quiet interactions between Brettina Davis and Christy Johnson as Cindy and Christina, with Johnson earning a lovely laugh for her character’s peculiar method of drinking, placing a few drops of alcohol on an ice cube and sucking on it.

It’s also nice to see Nora Sonneborn again, though I’ll go on record saying she should be required to sing in every role going forward. As always, great to see Nissa Nordland, and I have to share this revelation I had about her. Though it has nothing to do with her performance in this role, other than the time period, costume, and her hair style. I was suddenly struck with the certainty that in 20 years time, though she’ll still be too young for the role, but with makeup could pull it off, she needs to play Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple. I think some company needs to do an annual Miss Marple play and cast her every year, it’ll be a tradition. She has the slightness of frame, the bird-like profile, that intelligent twinkle in her eye. It’s one of those things, where now that I’ve seen it I’ll never be able to unsee it.

Fefu and Her Friends has an unusual schedule:

May 11, 7:30 PM – Opening Night, Mobility Access Night
May 12, 7:30 PM – Pay What You Can
May 13, 7:30 PM

May 18, 7:30 PM – Pay What You Can, Mobility Access Night, ASL, Audio Description
May 19, 7:30 PM
May 20, 7:30 PM

May 26, 7:30 PM
May 27, 7:30 PM
May 28, 7:30 PM – Closing Performance

For more information and tickets, visit https://www.theatreprorata.org/production-history/fefu-and-her-friends

The Hobbit at Theatre in the Round, the Story You Love Told Like You’ve Never Seen it Told Before.

Issabelle Hopewell as Bilbo Baggins Photo by Richard Hudson

The Hobbit at Theatre in the Round is not what you expect it to be. Those familiar with Theatre in the Round will go in knowing there isn’t going to be a huge animatronic dragon at the end. There isn’t going to be a cast of dozens, in fact, the cast isn’t even a dozen. It’s made up of ten performers, nine of whom are listed as ensemble because they each play multiple roles. Only the main protagonist, the hobbit of the title, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire is given a single, dedicated performer: Isabelle Hopewell.

That’s right, Isabelle. You wanna make something of it?

Fans of IP properties like Tolkien’s Middle-earth can get a little precious about their expectations, so let’s get this straight right out of the gate: this production tells the story of The Hobbit faithfully, but it does so in its own way. If you relax and open yourself up to it, you’ll have a blast. If you’re going to get hung up on the fact that a female actor is playing Bilbo and another is playing Gandalf, then stay home. There aren’t enough tickets to go around as it is, so don’t rob someone else of the chance to enjoy this wildly creative take on the fantasy classic.

This version of The Hobbit begins not long, long ago, but thirty years in our future, and not in a land far, far away, but in the Seven Corners area of Minneapolis. I can already hear the “WTFs?” But trust me, faithful readers: this is a true and faithful telling of the story. It’s just a bit meta.

What we’re watching is The Hobbit performed as a makeshift play by a group filling in for a professional troupe whose caravan broke down and couldn’t make it. But don’t worry, they’ve seen the show many times. They know the story, and they even have some of the props. And while they may be short a few performers, they find inventive ways around that, some of which involve gently wrangling the audience into the action. Don’t worry, Cherry and Spoon, it’s low key group participation.

Coming off what is probably the most impressive display of stage magic I’ve ever seen in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (and yes, remember to make your donations to Transforming Families https://www.tffmn.org/ to counteract the bad works of J.K. Rowling), this was a nice reminder that theatrical magic doesn’t have to be high-tech to be effective. This show is filled with low-tech, creative solutions to the story’s fantasy elements. None of it will leave you wondering “How did they do that?” but much of it will have you cheering at how clever and funny it is. It doesn’t wow, it delights, which is just another form of theatrical joy.

Oh, and that dragon? I may have misled you. There is a dragon, and it’s more than you expect and exactly what you need it to be.

And that cast, Isabelle Hopewell absolutely Baggins the hell out of the role of Bilbo. Wini Froelich is a fine Gandalf (among several other roles). The entire cast is fully committed, you can tell they’re having a blast, and so is the audience. Several cast members also double as the band.

The band, you say?

Yep. It’s not billed as a musical, but there are several short songs included in the price of admission. Bravo to director Scott Gilbert and his technical staff and designers, they’ve created something that feels truly unique and engaging.

After the last three shows at TRP, all of which were excellent but played to half-full houses, it was a pleasure to sit in a sold out theater. The longest running community theater in the Twin Cities is doing great work, and it’s nice to see them filling seats again.

The Hobbit runs through May 31 at Theatre in the Round in Minneapolis. For more information and tickets, visit theatreintheround.org but hurry, performances are selling out.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Dazzles, Astonishes, and Wows! You Will Believe a Boy Can Wizard!

Adam Grant Morrison, David Fine, and Maren Searle Photo by Evan Zimmerman

First off, let’s deal with the Dementor in the room: the Dark Lord, J.K. Rowling. I struggled with whether or not to review Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. Faithful readers know that transgender issues are very important to me and my family. It’s one of the oldest conundrums in the world of art, can you still love and enjoy the art when the artist is revealed to be someone you cannot, in good conscience, support?

I own all the movies on Blu-ray, so as long as I don’t upgrade to 4K UHD, can I still watch and enjoy them, since I’m not adding any money to Rowling’s Gringotts vault? I love the Harry Potter books and films, and I really wanted to see the touring production of this Broadway show, but I was torn. I receive press tickets, so in that regard I’m not putting money in she-who-must-not-be-named’s pocket. But what about those who might read my review and decide to see it? I can’t just take the press tickets and then not review the show.

And what about the hundreds of people a tour like this employs, the actors, many of whom, if they’re just starting out or aren’t big names, don’t have the luxury of turning down a steady job? Doesn’t their work deserve to be acknowledged and praised or critiqued on its own merits? Then the rationalizations start to kick in, driven by that primal urge to see a favorite story continue, to find out what happens to characters I fell in love with a quarter of a century ago. Can the $5 or $10 that might go to Rowling from each ticket really matter at this point? Doesn’t she already have more money than she could ever need to spread her particular brand of ignorance? Probably. And yet, I was torn.

My fellow Twin Cities theater blogger over at Cherry and Spoon suggested that, even though our tickets were free, we could offset our attendance by donating the cost of those tickets to an organization that supports and protects the transgender community. So I’ve made a donation to Transforming Families equivalent to the full cost of the tickets.

Transforming Families is a Minnesota-based 501(c)(3) nonprofit that provides:

Monthly support groups for youth and caregivers
Educational and social events that build confidence and connection
Advocacy and outreach to create safer schools and communities
Family mentorship to help relocating families build supportive networks

When my son George first transitioned, we found answers and community through Transforming Families of Minnesota. At the time, the group consisted of maybe a dozen families gathering for peer-led support. Over the past decade, it has grown to more than 1,000 members. I offer this as a way to ease the guilt of any other Potterheads who can’t help but go to the show but feel conflicted.

Now, the review.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, pared down from its original two-part version (still running in London), is written by Jack Thorne, based on a story conceived by Rowling, Thorne, and John Tiffany. I had never read the script, though I believe someone in my family owns it. So I can’t say what’s missing from the extended version, which runs over five hours. What I can say is that, at just under three hours, this version absolutely flies by.

There’s a campaign called #KeepTheSecrets that urges audiences not to spoil the plot or its twists. There’s even a spoiler notice in the cast list asking audiences not to read it until after the show. So I’ll keep it simple: the story takes place 19 years after the events of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The children of Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, and Draco Malfoy take center stage, but don’t worry, their parents are very much present and play significant roles.

But let’s be honest, what you really want to know is: how’s the magic?

It’s everything you want it to be and more.

There are effects I have no idea how they accomplished, and others where I can guess the technique, but they’re executed so flawlessly that they’re still astonishing. One effect, used whenever reality is distorted, makes the entire stage seem to ripple, as if the world itself is being rewritten before your eyes. I assume it’s some lighting or projection, but it looks uncannily real.

And it’s not all massive, mind-blowing spectacle. One of the most jaw-dropping moments happens right at the beginning: as the kids run toward Platform 9¾, the actors, dressed in ordinary street clothes, spin once and instantly appear in full Hogwarts robes. It happens in a fraction of a second. It’s completely unexpected and utterly magical.

Technically, every aspect of the production is flawless, with one minor exception. During a climactic wand battle, there appeared to be a glitch, the flames that should have appeared didn’t. It was a bit of a bummer (and forced me to rethink the photo I planned to use for this review), but honestly, the show is so dazzling that the moment barely registers. I suspect it will be fixed quickly.

Performance wise, the cast faces a daunting challenge. The films have left such an indelible impression of these characters that it’s hard not to compare. Still, I found myself adjusting fairly quickly. Ryan Hallahan felt a bit too jockish as Draco Malfoy, and Adam Grant Morrison was perhaps slightly too whiny as Albus Potter. On the other hand, David Fine is terrific as Scorpius, bringing warmth and humor to the role.

If you’re a Harry Potter fan, you’ll want to see this. It truly is magical. Ticket prices are a bit steeper than most shows, but you can see where the money goes, it’s all onstage, and it’s worth it for true believers.

But if you do go, please consider making a donation to Transforming Families. I know tickets are expensive, so even contributing the $5 or $10 that might otherwise go to Rowling per ticket would be a meaningful gesture.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child runs through May 17 at the Orpheum Theatre in downtown Minneapolis. For more information and tickets, visit hennepinarts.org.