In 1965, Polish-Jewish novelist Jerzy Kosinski wrote “The Painted Bird,” a novel widely seen as an autobiography of his own tragic experiences during the Holocaust.
Five women sit in a row onstage and talk about being women. Their subjects range from buying a bra to their obsession with boots to the enduring chic of the color black.
Take a boy whose mother died when he was 12 and whose father abandoned them even before that, have him fixated on his own machismo, his seething anger, and Elvis Presley, and you have a roaring bully and an egocentric Presley-impersonator who claims he has a “spiritual connection” with the iconic si
There is hardly any ethnic or religious group that is not maligned in “Holy Ghost,” Jon Tuttle’s World War II-era drama now having its West Coast premiere at Theatre of Note in Hollywood.
The first act begins in medieval Japan. A married woman and her lover, both in kimonos and lots of hair, are making love “for the last time” and singing to each other at the top of their lungs.
A scribe with severe writer’s block posts a sign in the window of his basement apartment. It announces that he will perform a psychic reading for $25.
“The Wake” is a play with a lot of p’s in it: politics, philosophy, polemics, passion, and pathos. And enough plot for two plays. In fact, “The Wake” is two plays.
Alan Rosenberg is too charming to play a world-class villain. And so he makes neo-con Paul Wolfowitz almost likeable. The play is “Influence,” and it takes place during the time when Wolfowitz was head of the World Bank and was detested by almost everyone he worked with.
In person, Cris D’Annunzio is a gentle, soft-spoken man. Sweet, even. So you might not suspect that he was the son of a minor Mafioso. Although, as he says, “This is the cross you have to bear when your name ends in a vowel.
After you’ve watched the subtle, nuanced performance of Dane Zinter as Fredrick, a pathetically lonely, obsessed madman in “The Collector,” you may be excused for concluding that the actor himself is more than a little deranged.
It’s hard to believe that Peter Gallagher’s performance was never rehearsed, that the actor appeared onstage to read author/actor Tim Crouch’s convoluted script without ever having seen it before.
Ever since the government permitted Native Americans to establish — and keep the proceeds from — their own gambling casinos, there has been a stampede among people of many different ethnic backgrounds to claim their “Indian heritage.
