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A race against time in Synetic Theater’s mesmerizing ‘Romeo & Juliet’

By Haley Huchler

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

What is Shakespeare without the Bard’s words? Director Paata Tsikurishvili’s Romeo & Juliet at Synetic Theater dares to imagine a Shakespearean tragedy without witty wisecracks or romantic lamentation. The dance-based performance tells the familiar tale with no dialogue, expressing the action and drama of the story through mesmerizing movement, deliberate lighting and sound design, and powerful performances from a cast that knows how to convey emotion without a single word.

The great emphasis of this performance is time. The set design is industrial and sparse, consisting almost solely of large clock gears and a swinging pendulum. Tsikurishvili is keen to introduce time as a character itself — one could say the ultimate villain of the story. In many scenes, the two lovers, Zana Gankhuyag as Romeo and Irina Kavsadze as Juliet, whirl across the stage through shifting gears being spun by other dancers. In other scenes, the dance movements themselves become mechanical and robotic, mimicking the clicking gears of an unforgiving timepiece.

Without dialogue, the old story takes on a fresh simplicity. Plot points are condensed and a few characters are cut from the original material. This allows the show to cleanly and clearly reflect the conflicts and tensions of the story without words. Familiarity with the storyline is a plus, but even for those who haven’t read the star-crossed lovers’ tale in quite some time, the story is easy to follow. Tsikurishvili somehow makes the story feel more timeless than ever in a performance that transcends language.

This presentation of Romeo & Juliet is gritty, dark, and eerie. Without the flowery prose and dirty jokes of the original play, this rendition could easily descend into a place completely grim and hopeless, but moments of humor save it from this fate. Mercutio, played by Tony Amante, brings much-needed comic relief with his electric performance. Amante is lively and hilarious, a feat all the more impressive when you consider he did it without speaking a word. Another performance that brightens up the show is Janine Baumgardner as Nurse. Small moments of physical humor that she brings to the stage are just enough to occasionally make us forget the true tragedy of this tale.

Sound design is crucial to a wordless show, and Konstantine Lortkipanidze (with additional design from Irakli Kavsadze and Paata Tsikurishvili) does a spectacular job of providing the soundtrack. An unusual touch is a beeping sound that returns over and over during moments of intensity, a raw noise that at first might make you think, “Who forgot to turn their phone off?” It’s a jarring and off-putting use of sound, but the unconventional method creates a bleakness that adds a rich texture to the performance. The lighting design by Brian S. Allard adds to the mood, at times making the stage feel completely eerie and spectral.

The performances of the two star-crossed lovers are extraordinary. Irina Kavadsze as Juliet brings a lightness and innocence to the stage, and Zana Gankhuyag is just as sure-footed and confident as you would want a Romeo to be. Their movements are precise and unfaltering. The show excels with a particularly striking scene that uses shadow to convey a moment of intimacy between the two, a moving display that was one of the most memorable points of the performance.

This production of Romeo & Juliet has been brought back to the stage at Synetic Theater many times since its first performance in 2008. This is the last time it will open at the Crystal City location, as Synetic Theater will be on the move as of April. This bittersweet occasion makes the show feel even more powerful and exciting. Just as Romeo and Juliet run out the clock, so does the Synetic Theater company. However, while the ending is tragic for our Shakespearean lovers, the Synetic Theater is sure to use this as a fresh start, a chance to explore new venues and new ideas, and if Romeo and Juliet is anything to go off of, I’m sure whatever they do next will be fantastic.

Increasing Queer Wellness and Mental Health With Coming Out Happy

By Abby Stuckrath

This article was originally published in Tagg Magazine here.

Growing up in a religious community in Colorado, Keely Antonio never imagined that she could lead a fully authentic life as a queer woman.

“A lot of my journey was suppressing who I was,” Antonio told Tagg. “I didn’t understand what it meant to free myself and step away from the judgment and the doubt.” 

Coming out as queer was the first time she truly listened to her body. “It really shaped my understanding of wellness and what it means to listen to your needs,” says Antonio. 

Antonio’s journey as a queer woman motivated her and her partner, Dani Max, to create Coming Out Happy. The company helps LGBTQ+ individuals become more fulfilled and empowered versions of themselves. 

Coming Out Happy originally started as an LGBTQ+ rainbow mask project during the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. But one viral Instagram post quickly transformed the company into something more. 

“I made a video saying that my partner is doing great things for the LGBTQ+ community and that everyone should follow her on Instagram,” says Antonio. “It got hundreds of thousands of views and hundreds of people to join the membership program.” 

In an effort to connect and support queer people during a time of such stifling isolation, Coming Out Happy evolved into a community-based membership program where Max and Antonio provided life coaching and therapy sessions. 

The pandemic taught them how important fostering and creating community is, “especially in a society that’s so individualistic,” Antonio says.

Coming Out Happy has now served 200,000 queer adults across the world. The company now offers wellness support through podcasts, workbooks, live coaching sessions, and virtual programming.

Last summer, their online network and services finally added in-person events. The San Diego Self Love retreat was their first in-person venture. Antonio says that participants flew in from all over the country for a weekend of intentional yoga, group discussions, and “the most queer joy that you could imagine.”

To foster a more diverse and inclusive space during in-person events, Coming Out Happy offers a BIPOC scholarship program. They funded four full-ride scholarships for the San Diego retreat. Earlier this month, Antonio and Max held another successful event, their Winter Queer Leadership Camp. 

Additionally, for those unable to attend their in-person events, Coming Out Happy offers a virtual program called the “Pride Amplified Six Week Course.” The website describes the course as an “​​On-demand program for queer adults designed to help you ditch insecurities, connect with the most confident version of yourself, and create a solid foundation for healthy relationships.” 

Antonio recalls one of her most memorable patients from her course, a 50-year-old woman who recently left her husband. After a decades-long heterosexual relationship, she was eager to explore her queerness. 

“She came in with a lot of shame and didn’t know how to join the community,” says Antonio, who works as the woman’s therapist. 

Years later, she has created a blooming network within the LGBTQ+ community and started her own queer-centric business. 

“It was so amazing to see her tap into her community and relationship and go and make an impact,” beams Antonio. 

Antonio shares that beginning your journey in self-empowerment can start with finding just one person to connect with. “Sometimes we don’t have all the resources; it’s just one door and one person,” she says.

The Avett Brothers bring big questions to the high seas in ‘Swept Away’ at Arena Stage

By D.R. Lewis

This article was originally published in The DC Line, here.

The distance between The Avett Brothers’ upbringing in Concord, North Carolina, and the 19th-century whaling industry of New Bedford, Massachusetts, spans hundreds of miles and several lifetimes. But in Swept Away, a new musical that asks just how far humans will go to survive, sea shanties of a bygone era are replaced with selections from the folk rock band’s sweeping repertoire. Following its world premiere at Berkeley Repertory Theatre last year, Swept Away takes audiences out to sea in Arena Stage’s Kreeger Theater through Jan. 14.

Inspired by the true story of the shipwrecked Mignonette (and The Avett Brothers album of the same name), Swept Away opens on a white metal cot where a former whaler, Mate (John Gallagher Jr.), lies dying from tuberculosis. As his body deteriorates from illness and his mind wanders to the past, he is haunted by the ghosts of three seamen who suffered alongside him in younger days: a youthful sailor, Little Brother (Adrian Blake Enscoe), Big Brother (Stark Sands) and their Captain (Wayne Duvall). They implore him to recount the story of their shared struggles as the lone survivors of a shipwreck. As the tale unfolds, we watch the men endure disaster, followed by weeks of starvation and thirst while adrift on a small lifeboat. When their situation becomes more and more fraught, they are forced to confront impossible questions of salvation, mercy and depravity in order to survive.

Comprised of hand-picked songs from The Avett Brothers’ extensive catalog of rock, roots and Americana, the musical’s folk score ranges from cheeky commentary on life at sea (“Hard Worker”) to the regrets of a career captain (“May It Last”) to a young man’s yearning for his distant lover when the fragile nature of life finally sets in (“A Gift for Melody Anne”). The arrangements by orchestrators Brian Usifer and Chris Miller vary accordingly, taking on both electric and acoustic treatments. Gallagher, Duvall, Sands and Enscoe are careful stewards of the Avett Brothers’ beloved songs, and their four voices blend remarkably well in group numbers and soar in solo turns. When combined with the (frequently offstage) ensemble, the tight harmonies work to haunt and comfort in equal measure. 

John Logan’s book provides a sturdy framework for the score while resisting the oft-indulged urge of other jukebox musicals to shoehorn existing songs into a complex, contrived plot. He chooses to go deep, rather than wide, providing enough details to bring the characters to life. He offers suitable dialogue to advance the simple story when needed and adequately tees up the songs for optimal impact. Despite by and large deferring to the score, Logan does put forth some meaty moral commentary that, while it occasionally feels trite, ultimately leaves audiences with plenty to ponder. 

As the Mate, an extremely charismatic Gallagher quickly captures the audience’s attention, never relinquishing his grasp even as ne’er-do-well charm devolves amid ravenous desperation. Duvall’s forlorn Captain lies somewhere between the Titanic’s steadfast Capt. Edward Smith and a defeated Willy Loman, struggling to accept the personal price he has paid for a career at sea. His self-professed failure to nurture his family is made all the more poignant by the devoted relationship Big Brother and Little Brother share. Despite a limited backstory, the chemistry between Sands and Enscoe is so strong that when an inevitable confrontation finally arrives and a dramatically logical but disturbing choice is made, the audience is left breathless.

Where Enscoe’s Little Brother is all heart, Sands’ Big Brother is entirely soul. His tenderness is at odds with the pompous masculinity of the ship’s crew, eliciting initial laughs from the audience. But as circumstances become increasingly dire, his enduring affection for his sibling and commitment to his faith are balm for both Little Brother and the audience. In the duet “Murder in the City,” the brothers affirm the importance of their familial love and the preciousness of their connection, despite their discordant dreams. “Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name,” they softly sing, moments before their lives, along with the ship, are upended forever.

Swept Away offers a departure from the flashy production numbers that are a hallmark of recent jukebox musicals like Jagged Little Pill (Alanis Morissette), Head Over Heels (The Go-Go’s, also directed by Michael Mayer) and Once Upon a One More Time (Britney Spears, which premiered at DC’s Shakespeare Theatre Company in 2021). With some exceptions — a mashup of “Ain’t No Man” with “Lord Lay Your Hand on My Shoulder” (a new song written for the show), and “Hard Worker” (an upbeat song that puts the ensemble front and center) — most of the musical numbers feel like a continuing series of gentle reflections. While the songs do little in the way of moving the scant plot along, Logan’s careful curation of the tight 90-minute setlist does an admirable job of deepening the audience’s understanding of, and sympathy for, the characters. Given the circumstances, it’s a good fit.

So is the show’s director. Mayer may be best known for his work on Spring Awakening, the coming-of-age rock musical that earned both him and Gallagher their first Tony Awards. But nearly 20 years after Spring Awakening first opened in New York, Swept Away feels like a matured extension of that groundbreaking musical. The social loneliness of adolescence has given way to physical isolation on the open sea; the strict expectations of parents, educators and church leaders are left onshore, while the pressures of one’s humanity, faith and sense of self push against the instinct to survive; and the immobilizing fear of a long life ahead is replaced with the regrets of one already lived. 

Beyond his handle on the show’s most compelling dramatic questions, Mayer’s handiwork as a technician comes through clearly. He succeeds in keeping the pace of the show at a steady clip, even as the sailors languish in expectant waiting. The starkness of the four stranded sailors in a tiny boat, slowly spinning in the absence of their lost crewmates, is a major shift from the lively deck that bustles with activity earlier in the show. In conjunction with his creative team, Mayer steadily ratchets up the desperation through the latter half of the show, beginning with the initial tempest that precipitates the ship’s sinking. The battering of the ship and its crew is one of the most impressive sequences in the production. At first mildly tossed by the sea, the crew soon is thrown about the stage in perfect coordination. Where David Neumann’s slick choreography of the musical’s early group numbers shows the crew united in their controlled movements about the ship, once at the mercy of the ocean they are unified only in their powerlessness. 

The strong direction is matched by excellent technical work by Mayer’s creative team. Rachel Hauck’s massive ship set fills the Kreeger stage and, in a deeply satisfying coup, transforms in an instant to underscore both the isolation of the surviving sailors and the endlessness of the open sea. Kevin Adams’ lighting ebbs and flows between the harsh, reflective brightness of a blazing sun, and the shadowy bluish green darkness that intimates memories and the ocean floor. John Shivers’ sound design fills the background quietly, regularly resurfacing with reminders of waves lapping at the boat. And Susan Hilferty’s worn costumes subtly reflect the salty residue of a life lived at sea.

Despite the similarities between musical theater and country (or country-adjacent) music, which both rely heavily on narrative-driven storytelling over abstract hooks, prior attempts to merge the genres (Shucked,Bright Star, 9 to 5, Urban Cowboy, etc.) have met with varying levels of success. But unlike those past iterations, Swept Away boldly leverages its source material to present compelling existential dilemmas to its audience. The direness of the characters’ circumstances and their resulting moral abandonment forces viewers to confront deeply difficult questions. What would I sacrifice to save the ones I love most? How far would I go to see another sunrise? And, as so poignantly asked in the song “No Hard Feelings”: “When my body won’t hold me anymore and it finally lets me free, will I be ready?” 

Not everyone will be willing to confront those difficult quandaries on a night out at the theater. Still, those theatergoers who take their seats ready to be challenged are likely to relish in this bold new musical. And, in its ultimate faithfulness to its source material, Swept Away will surely satisfy The Avett Brothers’ most devoted followers. 

In this maiden musical theater voyage, Swept Away makes a strong case that the band’s musical style lends itself naturally to dramatization and holds great potential to make a splash.. The show’s producers have been clear that their sights are on the Great White Way, and Arena Stage has already added two weeks to the show’s run — an extension announced just before Wednesday’s official opening after a week and a half of previews. While it remains unclear whether this ship can successfully pull into New York Harbor and drydock somewhere along Broadway, Swept Away appears to be calling for another sailing.

Centuries: Imagining Black Women Cycling Across Time

by Oluseyi Akinyode

This article was originally published in DC Trending, here.

Walking on the trails near home, I’m filled with longing as cyclists swish by. There’s something about riding a bike — You can cover more terrain than by walking. Two weeks ago, I took the first step to fulfill that yearning by taking an adult biking class for beginners with a group of about 20 sponsored by the Washington Area Bicyclist Association (WABA). The group included ten Black people, and eight of them were women. It’s a rarely represented activity in my daily life and one that I find compelling given the perception that Black women don’t ride.

As part of my biking journey, I was intrigued to go check out Centuries, an immersive digital art installation by Nekisha Durrett at the K Street Virtual Gallery, honoring five Black women cyclists (Marylou Jackson, Velma Jackson, Ethyl Miller, Leolya Nelson, Constance White) who biked on a 250-mile journey over three days from NYC to Washington, DC in 1928.

Cycling represents not just physical mobility but also socio-economic mobility. It signifies the presence of leisure time beyond daily responsibilities and the presence of expendable income. It also lends itself to exploration and movement through space without barriers. The journey of these five Black women takes on audacious meaning considering the social and racial climate then. 

The K Street Virtual Gallery is an initiative by NoMaBid that allows artists to create digital art installations projected onto the K Street underpass that sits between First and Second Streets NE as part of a broader revitalization of the area. According to the virtual gallery creators, it was their goal to create a space where people could stop, reflect, and enjoy their day. NoMa BID President Maura Brophy explained, “The gallery brings light and color to an otherwise dark space, but the rotating exhibits allow us to use the space to bring new pieces to the gallery and tell unique stories. The exhibits will change over time, allowing people to experience something new and exciting with each piece.”

The first K Street Virgual Gallery installation was created by artist My Ly, who used abstract colors and shapes moving across the walls of the underpass to render the multiplicities of transportation modes in the underpass. 

This second installation, entitled Centuries and created by Durrett, continues the theme of movement from a different perspective by paying homage to the journeys of these five Black female cyclists. Projected onto the rough-hewn stones of the underpass are AI-generated images of ten Black women cyclists dressed in period outfits spanning the past to the future. The selection includes a cyclist from Victorian times, a nod to the possibility that Black women have ridden earlier than imagined. Texts like “WE OUTSIDE WE OUTSIDE” and “BLACK WOMEN CYCLE” amplify the theme of stories in motion. 

A challenging cycling traverse was among the inspirations for Durrett’s installation. On a ride, the artist recalls suddenly hearing shouts from a group of Black women cyclists above — “Sis, you’ve got this; you’re so close. You’re walking the path of your ancestors.” Durrett believed that only with their encouragement did she emerge from the traverse. She shared that her goal for the exhibit was to remind us that “the paths we take have been paved by those who have gone before.”

This installation is in keeping with past works by the artist, such as Go-Go Belongs Here at the National Portrait Gallery, True Grit at James Madison University, and Don’t Forget to Remember (Me) in the cloisters at Bryn Mawr College. Employing text, materials, and imagery, these narratives tell the stories of individuals who have been forgotten while also envisioning limitless possibilities for the future that incorporate their unique experiences.

Durrett used AI to overcome artistic limitations, intending only to include photographs of Black women in the installation. However, the only available photo, most likely sourced from a Newspaper microfiche, was of poor quality and not suitable for reproduction. So Durett opted to use Midjourney, an AI application that generates images from texts. This allowed her to vividly portray Black women cycling, tying into Durrett’s practice of imagined realities. While sifting through AI-generated images for the installation, the artist couldn’t find images that captured her vision. So instead, she trained the AI model by inputting specific phrases to generate the images of the ten Black women featured in the installation. This experience serves as a reminder that the experiences of Black individuals may often be overlooked or forgotten in a rapidly advancing world driven by AI technology.

Given its recent past as a homeless encampment, an underpass filled only with passersby would be inadequate. The K Street Gallery is a clever approach that reflects a myriad of the city’s perspectives all the while embacing goals for redevelopment. In the future, after learning to ride, I may be one of those cyclists riding through the K Street underpass, continuing the journey of those who came before. 

The K Street Gallery will feature a roster of installations by artists throughout the year. Artists, artist teams, and designers interested in participating in the K Street Virtual Gallery can contact events@nomabid.com. Centuries will be running for the next six months at the K Street Gallery, located close to 100 K St NE.

Grief tests Black women’s friendship in ‘Long Time Since Yesterday’ at Howard

by Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts, here.

What happens when life doesn’t turn out as planned? What happens when the promise of always being friends is fractured? Why does it take grief to make us realize what we have? Long Time Since Yesterday by P.J. Gibson, directed by theater student Naynna Hollins, explores these questions through the friendship between six Black women brought back together by a tragic death. The Howard Players revitalize a lesser-known but essential play for their Next Up! Play Festival featuring student-led productions that spotlight the developing artists of the Department of Theatre at Howard University in the Al Freeman Jr. Environmental Theatre Space.

The death of Jeneen (Emil White) reunites college classmates Laveer (senior Jazmine Manfrum), Babbs (Jadah Evelyn Clay), Thelma (Nadira Davis), Panzi (Rebecca Celeste), and Alisa (senior Jayson Roman Broadnax). We find the group gathered together in the home Jeneen shared with her husband. As they reminisce and reflect on who she was or who they thought she was, her suicide unearths deeply held hurts as Babbs admits that she has felt at her lowest despite possessing beauty that people associate with happiness and desirability. She drinks and pacifies herself with jokes and humor, which acts as the thread line through a heartwrenching story. Like Jeneen, Babbs is lonely. Thelma feels ugly despite her achievements. Alisa believes her braggadocious verbosity about her husband and her success cover up her lost sense of self. Panzi is too busy projecting her anger at Laveer to hold space for her feelings about being misunderstood. And Laveer boasts of being a free-spirited artist who is without rooted connections.

Through flashbacks, we learn that the friendship was the strongest between Laveer and Jeneen, but after graduation, a conflict between Laveer and Panzi caused a rift between Jeneen and Laveer. A friendship they both promised would last forever is torn apart. Years later the death of Jeneen’s father brings them back together, back to their promise. The interwoven flashbacks reveal secrets between Jeneen and Panzi, and Jeneen and her husband. The transitions between the flashbacks and the present have perfect timing and are clearly defined so that the story never loses its rhythm, and the audience easily follows the timeline. When the lights dim on the cast, we know we enter a flashback as the spotlight hovers above Jeneen to give her a ghost-like presence.

Who was Jeneen? This question becomes a focal point as each friend except Panzi believes her to be innocent, shy, and childlike. They made little room for her to be big, imperfect, sad, and a 30-something-year-old woman with needs. In an intimate conversation with Laveer, Jeneen reveals the haunting of judgmental voices in her head. She may have lived a life she never truly wanted, while her friends are left to grapple with this truth.

The tension as thick as fog on a crisp fall morning fills the home between Laveer and Panzi until it drowns everyone, and the only way to make it to the surface is to swallow the bitterness of truth. This climatic moment reveals secrets that were ultimately too heavy for Jeneen to live with. These secrets are too heavy for even the living to deal with.

The cast does a fantastic job wrestling with themes of grief, love, and identity in an intimately set black box theater with minimal set design and carefully placed props like a couch and a bookshelf. White’s performance seems to pull from a personal place deep within as she honors Jeneen’s pain. She captures the rollercoaster of emotions felt by Jeneen, moving from joy to despair. Her tears and facial expressions can easily be another character in the story. Celeste’s presence is powerful. With each line she recites, they land eloquently and with ease. She becomes Panzi. Clay has remarkable comedic timing as Babbs. A play this heavy needs humor, and she delivers. The entire cast surrenders to the story.

The Howard Players productions are invaluable because they provide an opportunity for students to explore their talents and gifts. They share them with a community that believes in pursuing art as serious, rigorous, and meaningful work. To be nurtured in a space that values Black stories, Black storytellers, and Black spaces prepares these artists for a career where they may be the only ones. But they will not shrink; they will bloom.