Nice Girl (Rogue Machine's 2025 Production) Theatre Review

They say you can never go home again. But what if you never left? Would the natural growth and changes that should have occurred to both you and the place be impeded? And when is it too late to make those changes, to have that growth? In Nice Girl, written by Melissa Ross, Josephine Rosen is a 37-year-old woman who, apart from a few months of college, has never left home. She lives with her mother, Francine. With her twentieth high school reunion looming, she falls into an unexpected friendship with a coworker named Sherry and runs into an old classmate named Donny, who flirts with her, and these two events get her thinking about the possibility of change, that maybe it is not too late for her. Nice Girl was first produced a decade ago in New York, and is receiving its west coast premiere now at Rogue Machine Theatre, in the intimate upstairs space of the Henry Murray Stage. This production is directed by Ann Bronston, and stars Anaïs Fairweather as Josephine, Bailey Humiston as Sherry, Jeff Lorch as Donny, and Susan Peahl as Francine.

The set begins as a room in Francine's house, and is designed to make us feel a part of the world, for we are essentially in the room with the characters, the walls behind us being the walls of the room, with wallpaper and a window behind the folks stage left, and a turntable next to the people seated stage right. When Josephine and Francine enter, they are arguing, the kind of argument that reminds me of home. The play takes place in a suburb of Boston, and not the wealthy sort of suburb one might think of. And the argument is the sort that occurs between family members who spend perhaps too much time together. It is not long before Josephine threatens to leave. It is an empty threat, and Francine knows it. She replies, "Fine with me." We know it would not be fine with her, but feel that also perhaps a small part of her would want an end to what she labels as nagging. But then what would be left? What's important is that everything here is completely believable. We know these characters, and we like them immediately. We feel at home with them. And, because of the way the set is designed, we are at home with them.

When Sherry enters, the room becomes the break room at the office where she and Josephine work. And throughout the performance one room is quickly and convincingly transformed into several locations, including a butcher shop, a night club, and the porch outside of Josephine's home. Sherry is a ball of energy, the type that, if she allowed herself to stop for a moment, we fear would break down completely. She divulges personal information to Josephine, namely that she has learned the man she is dating is married and has kids. Josephine tries to keep up with the conversation, which is largely one-sided, and most of her responses seem to come out of kindness. But when Sherry describes her own situation as so depressing that she wants to kill herself, and adds, "Know what I mean," Josephine's "Yeah" is the first thing from her mouth that sounds totally sincere. Josephine has found an unlikely kindred spirit of sorts. So when Sherry declares they are going to say yes to everything, we in the audience begin to feel hope for Josephine.

When picking up food for that night, Josephine runs into an old high school classmate, Donny, who works as a butcher and is clearly having trouble dealing with his station in life. In addition to that dead-end job he has a marriage that is ending, but hasn't quite ended. He flirts somewhat awkwardly with Josephine, but that is enough for her to feel some spark, some life in her. Interestingly, early in that scene they discuss her troubles with veal, specifically that the meat is from babies that are taken away from their mothers. It is a hint that perhaps the reason for her still living at home is not entirely the fault of the mother, but something within herself. Neither she nor Donny is all that keen on going to the reunion at first, though both still feel a sort of pull toward it. Reunions generally cause folks to take a more critical look at their own lives, to compare where they are to where they had thought they'd be, something that is depressing for many people, as they come up terribly short. So what does one do when faced with such shortcomings? Blame someone else? Lie to people, telling them you're something you're not? It's a serious subject, and we in the audience can't help but think of our own lives, and the areas in which we have failed ourselves. We can't help but see ourselves in these characters. In a scene where Josephine is exercising, she tells her mother, "I'm not going anywhere," which is maybe the most heartbreaking line of all. This play would be terribly depressing if it weren't so damn funny, particularly its first half. This is the sort of the play that has the audience repeatedly laughing aloud.

A great deal of the joy of this play is due to the tremendous and captivating performances by all four members of the cast. There is not a single moment that doesn't ring true, because of their incredible talent, and each of these characters has difficult scenes. Perhaps because there is so much laughter, the scenes of ache and pain are all the more effective and affecting. Each of the characters is somewhat troubled, and the play does not offer easy solutions to any of them. Perhaps the most difficult scene is that where we learn Sherry, even though she's been betrayed by the man she's been dating, still wants to be with him. Normally we might expect a character in that situation to have gained enough pride in herself to lift her head and walk away. But that is just it: no one here is able to walk away. We might think of Josephine when early on she wonders if anyone is really happy. But maybe it is Francine's line to Josephine that stays with us, that life is not that bad.

Nice Girl runs through July 20, 2025. Visit the theater's website for the complete schedule. There is one short intermission. The scenic and lighting designer is Barbara Kallir. Sound design is by Christopher Moscatiello. Costume design is by Christine Cover Ferro. I should also mention the dialect coach, Lauren Lovett. I am from Massachusetts, and these actors totally nailed the dialect. Rogue Machine Theatre is located within the Matrix Theatre, at 7657 Melrose Ave. in Los Angeles, California.

Much Ado About Nothing (Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum 2025 Production) Theatre Review

The new season at the wonderful Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum has begun, kicking off with William Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. In these days of division and misogyny and bigotry and deception, it makes perfect sense to turn to a comedy like Much Ado About Nothing, which is a love story, but also one that involves villainy, deceit and questions of trust, and where, after all that, everything turns out all right in the end. I think we need that, we need to believe things will turn out all right at the end. The theme for this season at the theatre is "A Season Of Resilience," and most of us are hopeful that this country will be able to recover from its current crisis, that people will be able to finally admit their mistakes.

This production of Much Ado is set in another period of deep division in our nation, the Civil War (though oddly the program lists the performance as taking place in Elizabethan era England), and even begins with some of the cast singing "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" (a song they return to periodically throughout the performance). A change in time period and place (in this case, from Sicily) necessitates some minor changes in the text, something I always have mixed feelings about (the "cinque-pace" becomes the "polka," and "the Great Cham's beard" becomes "Ulysses Grant's beard," and "tabor and the pipe" becomes "piano and the harp," for examples). Don Pedro (here renamed General Penn), Claudio (here Captain Claudio rather than Count Claudio) and Benedick (here Sergeant Benedick rather than Signior Benedick) are Union soldiers, with Don John on the side of the Confederacy ("John the bastard" becomes "John the rebel"). That heightens that sense of brother against brother that exists in the play, something that is talked about in any lesson on the Civil War, and perhaps gives Don John (Emoria Weidner) more reason for his hatred and villainy.

The two main relationships, however, are those between Beatrice (Willow Geer) and Benedick (Aaron Hendry), and Claudio (Kelvin Morales) and Hero (Audrey Forman), the first a couple that is playfully tricked into admitting their love for each other, the second a couple that is maliciously tricked into believing in one's infidelity to the other. The Beatrice/Benedick relationship is the one that audiences most often latch onto, in part because that is where most of the play's delightful humor lies. Willow Geer and Aaron Hendry deliver wonderful and often hilarious performances. Right from the start, Beatrice does a great job of showing her interest in Benedick while simultaneously expressing her distaste for him. And while she and Benedick speak center stage, Claudio and Hero clearly express love for each with looks from opposite ends of the stage. Claudio is quick to fall in love (and does so without any lines, not the easiest thing to get across), and is also later quick to believe the worst of his beloved, and shames her publicly. There are productions where Claudio is understandably not very likeable, but this Claudio is immediately endearing to us, which is important, so that we feel for him later. Both Kelvin Morales and Audrey Forman do remarkable jobs with roles that can sometimes feel secondary to the Beatrice and Benedick relationship. You might recall Kelvin Morales from his excellent work with the Independent Shakespeare Company (as Demetrius in 2023's Dream, as Malcolm in 2022's Macbeth, as Chiron in 2018's Titus Andronicus), and here he gives us a Claudio that we can't help but love. And we believe completely that he has fallen for Hero; we believe in love at first sight.
 
Of course it is the verbal sparring between Beatrice and Benedick that is the most enjoyable aspect of the play, and feels like the heart of the piece. Both characters love speaking, and appreciate others who also speak well, which is certainly part of their mutual attraction. Just listen to the way Benedick delivers the line "as being a professed tyrant to their sex," obviously taking great joy in his words. In their meaning, yes, but also in the words themselves. And that is a great deal of the joy for the audience as well. It is that, more than the physical comedy, that holds such appeal. Though, of course, there is plenty of wonderful physical comedy as well, particularly in the scenes where Benedick and Beatrice overhear their friends discussing how one loves the other. Benedick at first hides behind a plant at the gate, then, as he wants to better hear what is being said, moves the plant closer to the others. He then hides at the fountain, and even rolls off the stage in order to keep from being seen. The others watch all of his movements with delight. What is also wonderful about this scene is the way that Benedick turns to the audience at the end, his expression asking us to take his part before he delivers the line, "This can be no trick." His delivery of "will be horribly in love with her" is likewise hilarious. Beatrice, for her part, sneaks in from the woods off stage left, and is wonderful as she ducks down at the front of the stage. At one point, after unintentionally making a noise, she imitates the sound of a bird, just as Benedick had imitated a dog during his scene. Those little moments show that these two have more in common than they believe, a nice touch. Not only are Benedick and Beatrice excellent in their respective scenes, but those who are gulling them also excel here. Later, when Benedick says, "I am not as I have been," we hear the truth of those words in his delivery, the way his voice has changed. His voice changes again when he tells Beatrice, "I am engaged."

Gerald C. Rivers is fantastic as Dogberry, which probably comes as no surprise to anyone who saw him as Falstaff in The Merry Wives Of Windsor or Autolycus in last year's production of The Winter's Tale. He possesses a natural flair for comedy, and isn't just hilarious as Dogberry, but believable, his lines delivered with a certain dignity. It seems he even blushes when he says "If it pleases your worship to say so," pleased himself at being called tedious. Another of the production's strongest performances is that of Lynn Robert Berg as Don Pedro, here Major General Penn. His delivery of "Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband" is hilarious, the way he pauses before "unhopefullest," as if considering the most appropriate word to use there, and then choosing one that is barely a proper word at all. This is another role that does not often stand out, but Lynn Robert Berg does such a great job with it that the audience is drawn to him. When speaking to Don John, his delivery of "You know he does" shows that he knows his brother is not to be completely trusted. In that scene, he even grabs hold of Don John at one point. This is great because of course he should know his own brother, and it makes it all the harder on him when he learns that he's let his brother mislead him.

Claudio too is misled, and chooses to confront his bride in the ugliest, meanest way: at the altar on their wedding day, rather than before it, privately. Again, it's important that the audience truly likes Claudio early on, because otherwise this scene would be impossible for him to come back from. The reaction of Leonato (Tim Halligan) is excellent. Clearly he doesn't want to believe Claudio's accusation against his daughter, and we see the pain and sadness in his expression as it hits him that there might be truth in it. The Friar Francis of the text becomes Sister Frances (Shoshanna Green) in this production. For some reason, the advice offered by this character doesn't seem as believable coming from a nun as a priest, but then there is the added humor to her lines about concealing Hero in "some reclusive and religious life," since what she is suggesting is that Hero become a nun like her. Of course, it is all sorted out in the end. And these relationships - that between Beatrice and Benedick, and that between Claudio and Hero - give us some hope for the world at large, that problems can be worked out, that deception will be weeded out, that forgiveness is possible (though I do appreciate that Beatrice exhibits some remaining rancor toward Claudio at the end, as she forces him to his knees next to Hero). And there is the hope that everything will end with a dance.

This production of Much Ado About Nothing is directed by Ellen Geer, with costume design by A. Jeffrey Schoenberg, sound design by Lucas Fehring, and lighting design by Hayden Kirschbaum. There is one intermission, which comes at the end of Act III Scene ii. The play runs through September 13, 2025. Visit the theatre's website for the complete schedule. Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum is located at 1419 Topanga Canyon Blvd. in Topanga, California.

Shakespeare References in Monsieur Pamplemousse Afloat

Michael Bond's Monsieur Pamplemousse Afloat contains a few Shakespeare references. The first is a reference to The First Part Of King Henry The Fourth. Bond writes, "Discretion being the better part of valour, Monsieur Pamplemousse decided not to pursue the subject" (p. 58). That is a reference to Falstaff's line, "The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life." The next reference is to As You Like It, with Monsieur Pamplemousse reciting, "Blow, blow thou winter wind, thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude" (p. 114). That comes from a song in Act II Scene vii. Bond continues: "It was one of only two English quotations he could remember from his school days" (p. 114). The person Monsieur Pamplemousse is speaking with doesn't catch the reference, and so Pamplemousse says, "Shakespeare" (p. 115). The other character responds: "Yeah? I might have known. That's the kind of thing he would say" (p. 115). Interestingly, the other Shakespeare reference is not actually a Shakespeare reference at all, but a mistake by the author. Bond writes: "He was in the act of bracing himself when he recalled the other Shakespearean quotation he had learned as a boy. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'" (p. 163). That is not, in fact, a Shakespearean quotation. The line comes from a William Congreve play from the late 1600s. Bond then writes: "Monsieur Pamplemousse felt sure that had he found himself in a similar situation, Shakespeare would have reached very much the same conclusion. He might even have dreamed up a suitable quotation as he put his boot through the door" (p. 163).

Monsieur Pamplemousse Afloat was published in 1998.