Review: Soul One (Clock Productions)

  
  

A meaningless trip through time

  
  

The cast from 'Soul One', being produced by Clock Productions at Natiional Pastime Theater

 
Clock Productions presents
  
Soul One
   
Written by Travis Hughes
Directed by Jessie Stratton
at National Pastime Theater, 4139 N. Broadway (map)
through April 30  |  tickets: $15  |  more info

Reviewed by Jason Rost

There are some new plays that can benefit from readings, workshops and multiple productions. Even if they don’t quite work at first, they can continue to grow upon their strengths while fixing their weaknesses. And then, there are scripts that possibly need to be completely rebooted or scrapped all together. Travis HughesSoul One may unfortunately fall into the latter. Jessie Stratton’s direction of this new play with Clock Productions does it no favors. While there are some sparks of talent in this cast and the design, in the end, Hughes’ script provides a hollow jumbled journey that falls somewhere between bad sketch comedy and a 3am History Channel reenactment from the 90’s.

Travis Hughes’ muddled script is centered on a troubled rock star, Jack Straw (Ryan Hughes). Straw is tormented by his producer pressuring him to create a more “pop sound.” His solution is to fly off to the Caribbean where he hires three prostitutes, who just so happen to be able to sing and play instruments on command. The women in Hughes’ play are almost always of the submissive objectified type. From here, things get strange—but not in a fun way. Straw seemingly seeks help from a crackpot therapist (Chad Ramsey). Ramsey’s character, using “Hypnotherapy for Dummies,” puts Straw under hypnosis. This takes Straw back in time to the caveman era. After this, he travels to pseudo versions of Ancient Greece, Rome, the American West and the future. Each one of these scenarios is more nonsensical and underdeveloped than the previous. It appears Hughes’ purpose for this convention is to teach Straw the lesson that he should love his wife, but there is nothing of substance written for these characters to care whether he does or not.

The play opens as though this may be another character study on a troubled artist. We even get a heavily produced mock Behind the Music video. However, this play goes from overplayed to pointless. Hughes opts rather for one cringe worthy joke after another. The sophomoric humor falls flat and advances no story. Stratton’s direction halts the pacing to near unbearably slow. At points, literally nothing happens on stage for a good amount of time. There’s another moment where we simply sit and watch Ramsey blow bubbles in silence for almost a full minute. More salvageable, there are a handful of interchanges between characters that could almost hold their own in a more sketch comedy setting. The main issue with these moments in the play is that nothing is seemingly ever at stake. Ryan Hughes is not believable and is an extremely bland rock star with none of the eccentricities. Straw is written to be the world’s greatest rock frontman, yet, he doesn’t seem to ever sing, only speak lyrics in a rhythmic monotone. Ryan Hughes is doubled by his brother, Travis Hughes, as the “time travelling version” of the character. Hughes comes off much better as an actor in these segments than he does as the writer of frequently flat dialogue.

There is very little rock music played live for a play that is largely billed as a story about a rock star. However, Nikos Brisco demonstrates some skillful guitar playing that could have benefited from more stage time. Also, the female actors clearly have some wonderful talent that isn’t getting tapped in this production, particularly a charming Gemma Crowley. However, the women are consistently utilized as the butt of dull and somewhat misogynistic jokes and are never given an ounce of dimension. Stratton’s video design is polished, but the video-centric director relies too heavily on the projections. Also notable, costume designer Sienna Macedon pulls off her job admirably, providing the only clear indication of what time period we are in.

In addition to script flaws, the overall production lacks clarity and appears under-rehearsed with no polish to timing and pace. Ultimately, the play suffers from an identity crisis on all ends in regards to what type of play this is. There exists a lack of focus on any particular action or storyline. Ramsey, as the psychiatrist, states at the end of the two hours, “Time is meaningless.” Apparently, the same goes for the audience’s time spent.

  
  
Rating: ★½
  
  

Graphic-Soul-One2

Soul One continues at National Pastime Theater through April 30th, with performances Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30, and Sundays at 3pm.  No Performances on Easter Weekend. Tickets are $15 and may be purchased online or by calling 773.327.7077.  More info at clockproductions.com.

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REVIEW: Rudolph the Red-Hosed Reindeer

  
  

The Queer Meaning of Christmas: Always Be Yourself

  
  

Rudolph finale by David as Joan

  
Hell in a Handbag Productions presents
   
Rudolph the Red-Hosed Reindeer
   
Book/Lyrics by David Cerda 
Music by
David Cerda w/ Scott Lamberty
Directed by
Derek Czaplewski
at Mary’s Attic, 5400 N. Clark (map)
through Jan 1  |  tickets: $15-$20   |  more info

Reviewed by Paige Listerud

Hell In a Handbag Productions have run their queerlicious holiday spoof, Rudolph the Red-Hosed Reindeer for 13 years, yet it’s Christmas theme could not be more current or relevant than if it were written yesterday. Directed by Derek Czaplewski, this Santa Claus (Michael Hampton) is as Scrooge as they come, running the North Pole like a sweatshop. His terrorized elf population scrambles for job security since he’s outsourced most of the toy manufacturing to India. To generate extra income, Santa cynically develops a series of reality TV Mrs. Claus loses her balance. by David as Joanshows for NPN (North Pole Network). Sam the Snowman (Christopher Carpenter) lays out the whole scene with casual and realistic world-weariness, just right for this particular recessionary season.

Into this milieu, Jane (Danni Smith) and Tom Donner (Chad) give birth to Rudolph (Alex Grelle), a sweet little reindeer with an instinctual love for feminine attire. Fresh from the womb, Rudolph can already spot Chanel and Prada on other women and lusts in his heart to wear them himself. But mom and dad fear gender non-conformity just won’t go over well in the gossipy and economically strapped environs of Christmastown. So, they force Rudolph into overalls and trot him out to the reindeer games to put a little butch into his act.

The big butch of the reindeer games, Coach Comet (David Besky), uses his position to put the moves on his young reindeer charges. But, like any classic closet case, he – like everyone else – rejects Rudolph when his unstoppable femme side emerges. While reviling base hypocrisy is de rigueur element for LGBTQ comedy, Hell in a Handbag’s spry and professional cast keeps to the situation fresh, the jokes well-timed and humanely on message. David Cerda’s humorous script holds up fabulously well; it helps that the original Christmas cartoon is also about being yourself, no matter what societal pressures deny who and what you are. Cerda and crew boost the original cartoon with a ton of salacious queer fun and Brigitte Ditmars’ choreography makes the most of a tight stage at Mary’s Attic.

     
Trailer Trash Barbie by David as Joan Meet Coach Comet by David as Joan
The Dragbeast! The Abominable Dragbeast (David Cerda, center) massacre's a Lady Gag_0007 North Pole Smackdown by David as Joan

Rudolph loses the town’s support but gains a reindeer girlfriend, Clarice (Jennifer Shine), who regales the audience with how HOT his red hose make her. Then there’s Rudolph’s ally Herbie, the elf who wants to be a dentist, who Dan Hickey executes with nostalgic and dorky perfection. Once this pair make it to the Island of Misfit Toys, the audience not only gets to revel in Chad’s exact portrayal of Charlie-in-the-Box, but also the Half-Naked Cowboy (Chad Ramsey), Trailer Trash Barbie (Terry McCarthy) and the Choo-Choo Train (Barbara Figgins) with square wheels.

That Cerda, as the Abominable Drag Beast, tries her grab at fame in a Gaga-esque meat dress, while Ed Jones goes beyond the beyond as Santa’s drunken wife, puts the cherry and nuts on top of Hell in a Handbag’s confection. It’s so bad it’s good for you. But most of all, for all its celebration of pervy practices, Rudolph, the Red-Hosed Reindeer restores a little innocent sweetness to a holiday made hard, jaded and meaningless by rampant commercialism. Always be yourself—that’s the best Christmas message I’ve heard in a long time and something meant to last the whole year round.

  
  
Rating: ★★★
   
   

Christmastown! by David as Joan

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