 David Lind as Macbeth at the Lupin Theatre in New Orleans (photo: The New Orleans Shakespeare Festival) Shifting sands: Macbeth @ The Lupin Theatre, part of the New Orleans Shakespeare Festival Review by Lauren Malara The Lupin's black box theatre is set in the round. Audience members sit on all sides of the stage like a sporting arena, projectors wrapped around the theatre and above the audience. At the center of the stage sits a large sandbox. Within it, Director Graham Burk conceptualizes Shakespeare's classic story about absolute power. Some characters tiptoe around it, while others aren't afraid to get their hands dirty. Those who enter draw lines and plant flags, yet the ground is constantly shifting beneath their feet. Those who grasp for power find it slipping through their hands like so many grains of sand. In the modern age, a sandbox is more than a playground fixture. In gaming, it allows players to choose their own path. In software development, it provides a space for trial runs. In cybersecurity, it isolates and eliminates threats. Burk's sandbox similarly becomes a place where Macbeth's ambition is developed, tested, and ultimately eliminated. The production is spectacular. Throughout the performance, the box transforms through multimedia projections and LED lighting. At the same time, arena-style projectors encase the audience in a virtual box of their own. These projections allow for minimal scenery, quickly transporting the audience from Birnam Wood to the halls of Inverness. They also conjure eerie apparitions, illustrating Macbeth's descent into madness. As Macbeth, David Lind (previously reviewed here in last year's The Lehman Trilogy) maintains a compelling connection with the audience. During his asides, he invites us into his dangerous game. The costumes by Kaci Thomassie are stunning. Lady Macbeth, played by Jana Mestecky, is especially striking, at one point wrapped regally in a down comforter. Ryan Hayes brings a warm affability to Banquo, making his return at the banquet all the more ghastly. The witches (James Bartelle, Georgia Morgan, and Zarah Hōkūleʻa Spalding) are real strange, y'all. Honestly, they remind me of the girl from (horror movie)The Ring. They acrobatically collaborate to create a supernatural being. The warmth and playfulness between Anja Avsharian and Lucien Grace, as Lady Macduff and Macduff's child, is filled with love. It makes the tragedy that follows all the more devastating. Edward Carter Simon's Macduff delivers grief so raw that his thirst for vengeance feels inevitable. Of note, Robert A. Mitchell's performance remains grounded despite the constantly shifting terrain, his Duncan exuding ease and grace. Similarly, Robinson J. Cyprian has a commanding stage presence with his silk-smooth voice. Sofia Severson (Fleance) delivers a bright, spirited performance full of fight, and stage manager Jenny L. Billot deserves special recognition for the production's extensive integration of technology. Macbeth runs through July 12 at the New Orleans Shakespeare Festival at Tulane. Click here for show information and ticketing  King Lear plays as part of the New Orleans Shakespeare Festival (Photo: Brittney Werner) King Lear (New Orleans Shakespeare Festival) @ The Lupin Theatre Review by David S. Lewis Shakespeare’s King Lear is one of the great masterworks of the English language, and perhaps the pinnacle of Western drama. Written around 1605, the staying power of the play is thanks to the remarkable poetry in every line, its permanence having little to do with politics. The maneuvering around royal succession means little to denizens of democracies (or whatever we have now). It is easy to recognize the onset of dementia - here coded as “dotage” - and madness. Also familiar is the intense acrimony, too often seeded within families settling estates, particularly that which flowers after the death of a manipulative, love-testing patriarch. The play shows us Shakespeare's gift for bringing the macro closer. When we watch a TV show like HBO’s Succession, for example, we can squint and see our own familial archetypes represented, but must map them onto the excess of wealth and power depicted. Shakespeare, in spite of the Elizabethan gilding of the language, manages to focus our attention on the human hurt felt by these characters, and director Jana Mestecky deftly illuminates these elements. When Lear wanders out into a raging storm in one of the most famous scenes in all of English literature, we live our fears of aging parents and grandparents wandering off into the night. When his daughters insist he doesn’t really require his full retinue of knights, receiving his forceful indignation, we may think of how it is to separate our elders from their car keys. I imagine more than a few of us watched Regan and Goneril vie for their father’s financial affections and bicker over who is to watch him and recollected similarly embittering conversations. Mestecky makes the arcane and the ancient feel familiar without resorting to tactics of modernization: the setting and costumes are non-specific, but we know that this is from The Past. The sound and visual design are truly impressive without being distracting. Mestecky also empowers her actors, staging this Shakespeare in the round: the audience is seated around a raised circular stage. Every seat in the house gets a different perspective this way, and somehow that makes us more aware of the experience we’re sharing with the rest of the audience. When John Neisler’s Lear reconciled with his cast-off Cordelia, I doubt my eyes were the only tearful ones (you can feel the agony of that feather in the play’s closing moments). Zarah Hōkūle’a Spalding’s Cordelia, despite relatively little time on stage, brings intensity; but it’s her turn as the Fool, the King’s loyal friend and personal satirist, where she shines. Both she and Silas Cooper were scene-stealers in last year’s Caesar, and are such strong players in Shakespearean repertoire. Los Angeles’ Jeffrey Sugarman (Gloucester) also gave a noteworthy performance with another welcome return bring James Bartelle, who captivates in every role he touches: his Edgar has the only arc we can remotely feel good about. King Lear plays at the Lupin Theatre at Tulane through June 7th, Click here for show information and ticketing  The NOLA project present Medea at the Lafitte Greenway (photo credit: Jillian Desirée Oliveras Maldonado) First night review: Medea @ Lafitte Greenway Review by David S Lewis A powerful sorceress flees her homeland with a famous hero, committing terrible, irreversible acts to save his life and preserve theirs. When he abandons her and their children for a more convenient marriage, his betrayal sets in motion a ferocious reaction. Although this work has echoed through Western history for two millennia, producing Greek theater in 2026 asks a trust-fall of the audience: can a two thousand year-old play speak to modern lives? The NOLA Project understand the assignment. Greek theater is serious work for the performers, but audiences were also meant to leave with some responsibility: to bear witness. Perhaps it’s just the weariness of our moment, but sitting on the Greenway with a diverse bunch of neighbors watching an ancient play and sharing the implicit pledge to consider ourselves within the context of this tradition was incredibly cathartic. Director Gab Reisman’s production sets some dramatic elements aside. Whereas Euripides' Medea was also a divine being, Natalie Boyd’s Medea is entirely mortal. When the gods are out of the action, these stories shrink a little. I suspect that this was a conscious decision, to emphasize the humanity of the characters, and to enhance the feeling that the play was something familiar enough to be containable. It could also be said that denying the gods' activities could allow Medea’s character to accrue more power. Although the logical procession of the story is impacted, if every available line of thematic discourse were explored, the production would be unfocused. Reisman is a veteran, an experienced and deft dramatic interpreter, and an accomplished playwright herself: I don’t doubt for a moment that these omissions were weighed considerations. This is a feminist Medea, as it has always been, but the admirable modern inclination toward inclusiveness in casting does leave some 2,400-year-old emphases on the table. In casting the always-magnetic Aria Jackson as King Creon, the director somewhat dilutes the ancient narrative. This story is about men trying to control a woman who doesn’t merely reject their assertions of dominance: she utterly dismembers multiple entire lineages of male power. Jackson’s Creon is convincing and well performed, but the sense that powerful male characters are set against Medea and the female characters' morally entangled sorority is slightly reduced by that casting. The entire ensemble is strong, though, offering believable performances. Robinson J. Cyprian offers a comic turn for Aegeus, the Athenian king Medea manipulates into providing sanctuary. She sews the unwitting royal into her schemes, demonstrating how fluidly she’s able to adapt to the dynamics of her situation. Jon Greene impresses as Jason, whose self-serving justifications for his betrayal feel like an indictment of all the awful men that women are constantly derided for objecting to - an exercise in self assessment for any men willing to look upon Jason and see themselves reflected back. This is what really good theater does: it follows us home; it looks back at us from our mirrors. Reisman made some trades with Euripides because she knew how to bargain with him on her own terms, and gave us a Medea we readily recognize – and therefore may learn from. The attention to detail extended beyond special effects and costuming. Production manager Tova Steele used the laundry hung by the chorus of Corinthian women to show us torn sheets, symbolizing the mangled marriage bed. The Chorus, often a stumbling block for modern directors but an essential element of Greek dramaturgy, was beautifully woven into the production, and they sang some lines in a nod to ancient practice. The NOLA Project’s Medea ultimately succeeds, and Reisman’s decisions are vindicated. The audience was perceptibly distressed when Medea’s awesome wrath was finally manifested; they gaped at the final dialogue between the stricken father and the mother whose declaration of independence was bloody and final; and they waited anxiously as the play wrapped, unsure and uneasy. Their thoughts and emotions were enthralled to Boyd and Greene’s fury and despair, and to Reisman’s unsparing portrayal of their uncoupling. If her intention was to make the characters more visceral by emphasizing their humanity, she achieved that. I hope that audiences feel compelled to discuss what they witnessed, and that those conversations are rewarded with more Greek theater staged in the city. MEDEA plays at Greenway Station (436 N Norman C Francis Parkway), performances are on May 22, 24, 28, 29, and 30. All performances begin at 7:30. Bring your own lawn chair (or purchase a premium seat) - you can reserve tickets here  The cast of The Book of Mormon, playing at The Saenger Theatre (photo: Teg Folks) Preaching across the aisle: The Book of Mormon Review by Dorian Hatchett If there are angels that watch over drunks and children, then the main characters in Matt Stone and Trey Parker’s critically acclaimed musical The Book of Mormon (a pair of hapless teens on their first mission trip) should expect invulnerability. Wide-eyed and earnest, they are filled to the brim with (undeserved) confidence, and an enthusiasm unchecked by any kind of valuable perspective. Elders Price and Cunningham (Ethan Davenport and Jacob Aune) are the perfect patsies for a relatively new religion seeking world domination through evangelical doorbell ringing. Laughter is the best medicine for all of our collective religious trauma, as Stone and Parker turn a satirical eye on everything wrong with the biggest all-American Christian sect. Elder Price is determined to show that he is the perfect Mormon, as long as his mission trip takes him to Orlando. A clarion voice and enough ego for a whole horde of teenagers give him a clear main-character energy. Elder Cunningham is the underdog. He is clear on his goal to be a follower, until he has to man up and take charge in Price’s absence. Aune is a master of physical comedy, and his slapstick background moves make him instantly loveable, even if it’s clear he has no idea what being a Mormon missionary means. The chemistry between these two is perfect and natural. The ensemble cast is composed of incredible dancers and singers who take turns stealing the show. They manage to forge entire characters out of a handful of lines and perfect choreography. It’s difficult to see a show this polished; this absolutely spot-on, and not feel magic, but to feel that magic about an occasionally crass, irreverent satire evokes a complex set of mixed feelings. The pure skill it takes to build a complex, moving set that takes us from Salt Lake City to Uganda, to tell a story of unlikely protagonists without feeling preachy, to do all this while doling out a heavy dose of humility to anyone who fancies themselves a savior of others: there’s something really special about The Book of Mormon and the profoundly skilled cast are the largest part of that. No one expects the creators of South Park to pull any punches, but as long as you keep a keen sense of humor at all times, it will be no surprise that this show won nine Tony Awards in its first season on Broadway. With a score that is equal parts clever and crude, the audience laughs from beginning to end. Full of references that fans of organized religion will pick up on (but perhaps only jovial heretics will appreciate) the script and score are as easy to follow and enjoy as a road paved with good intentions. The Book of Mormon is playing at the Saenger Theatre through May 17th. Click here for ticketing and show information.  Your fiends and neighbors: God of Carnage @ Le Petit Theatre Review by Paul Oswell Rhetoric, accusations, and various liquids are all airborne in Yasmina Reza's lauded God of Carnage (playing at Le Petit Theatre through May 17th). A Broadway sensation and Tony Award winner following its 2009 debut, it’s a single-act powder keg. Two couples engage in an escalating war of ethics that lays bare the self-interest lurking beneath bourgeois parenthood, and exposes the brittleness of human empathy. Alan (Conrad Ricamora) and Annette (Julie Lake) are guests in the Brooklyn home of Veronica (Marie Lovejoy) and Michael (Joshua Mark Sienkiewicz), there to discuss an incident between their 11-year-old children. Alan and Annette's boy has attacked Veronica and Michael's son with a stick, dislodging two teeth in the process. We begin with polite, if emotionally wary, cooperation. Alan and Annette emanate a cynically corporate, materialistic ethos as they navigate Veronica and Michael's more bohemian, everyman sensibilities. Michael, a purveyor of kitchen and bathroom fittings, appears to be an almost cartoonishly easy-going husband, while Alan repeatedly abandons the discussion, loudly addressing an escalating company matter on his cell phone. Minor quibbles about the precise wording of a legal statement soon metastasize, and masks slip as social cohesion strains against the pressures of self-interest, lubricated by an open bottle of rum. The cast deftly navigates the emotional whiplash as hostility mounts. Ricamora juggles manipulation and fraying control, while Sienkiewicz remains charismatic even as his bonhomie is tested to its breaking point. Marie Lovejoy's Veronica appears superficially the most vulnerable, yet excavates reserves of strength to weather a tornado of aggression. Julie Lake pivots brilliantly between being hilariously indignant and inappropriately amorous before delivering a viscerally emphatic bout of nausea. A.J. Allegra's direction maintains momentum from the opening moments, and the staging - a sunken lounge overlooked by an imposing work of art - proves striking without overwhelming the action. I won't spoil the pointed visual commentary embedded within the set design, but there's a wickedly effective Easter egg for the observant. The careening drama may prove uncomfortable viewing for the conflict-averse, and while the themes don't descend to the abyssal depths of, say, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, there are moments of genuine intensity. Marital fissures test both couples, who become privileged adults wielding playground insults with guileless brutality. That’s possibly the extent of the subtext in God of Carnage. I wondered about, say, a geopolitical metaphor, but Reza says in interviews that it is a straight dramatization of a real-life incident related to her by a friend. You may cringe imagining which awful details are possibly real, but the reassurance of at least some of it being fictional is a positive relief when the confrontation on stage is at its most lurid. God of Carnage is playing at Le Petit Theatre through May 17th. Click here for show information and ticketing  First Night: Six @ The Saenger Theatre Review by Dorian Hatchett Divorced. Beheaded. Died. Divorced. Beheaded. Survived. A glittering pop musical for the modern era, about some very historic drama, Six introduces the ex-wives of Henry VIII in a concert for the ages. An all-female cast (Including the band, the “Ladies in Waiting”) brings down the house with humor and humanity, as the audience is led to confront some complicated truths about the way we contextualize the infamous characters throughout our history (ahem: herstory, per Catherine Parr). Each of the wives is styled after a modern musical inspiration. Our own idols are written in an oh-so-clever trick to make anyone without a heart of stone feel instant camaraderie with the celebrities of yesteryear. There’s enough factual history here to warrant serious attention, and enough fun to make you catch yourself singing along, long after the curtain closes. Don’t lose your head, though, because the cast encourages all the singing and clapping you wanna do, while the seamless choreography proves that you don’t have to be raised from the dead to get down, but it might help. A royal feast for the eyes, the costumes are a techno fantasy through a tudor lens. Puffed sleeves and peplums strike a tone, metallic vinyl and sequins pull the shapes through 500 years into the future. The set is a concert stage, simple bones with dynamic lighting and a beautiful changing backdrop of Tudor arches that offer a sophisticated, almost tactile shift in emotional atmosphere along with the music. Each queen has her own story, and you can watch it change the visual flavor of the stage every time the focus shifts. Without words, the set and lighting designers of this show tell the story as effectively as a Greek chorus, building suspense and mirth with equal effectiveness. You may not need our love, but you certainly have it ! Six: The Musical is playing at The Saenger Theatre through April 19th. Click here for show information and ticketing  The cast of The Great Gatsby @ The Saenger Theatre (Photo: TEG FOLKS) First Night Review: The Great Gatsby @ The Saenger Theatre Review by Dorian Hatchett “I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy." - Jordan Baker The Great Gatsby invites the audience to partake of this jazz age spectacle, where New York’s rich and nouveau-riche have entered a competition with deadly stakes. The only winner in this game is truth, which succeeds heartily in shining a bright green light on the hollow reality of wealth and societal convention. Based on the classic novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and featuring quotes directly from the book, this musical adaptation captures the wonder and debauchery of the post-World War 1 era in glittering lights and flawless scenery. Joshua Grosso as Nick Carraway is our guide, fumbling through a complex social hierarchy with as much grace as his midwestern roots can muster. His return to society after the great war is fraught; his shock at the decadence of Long Island isn’t naivety, but the realization that there are people living in an entirely different world than the war-torn one he has experienced. Grosso’s Nick is earnest and disappointed, but not totally surprised at the lengths to which his associates will go to maintain their place in the world. Fans of the novel will be blown away by the scenery. Framing the whirlwind rekindled love affair of Jay Gatsby (Jake David Smith) and Daisy Buchanan (Senzel Ahmady) is an exquisite, technically marvelous set. Moving, shifting backdrops provide a seamless sense of time and place, with constant respectful callbacks to the source material. There is perfect choreography: the ensemble cast are skilled dancers and narcissistic booze hounds. Part comic relief and part somber gut-check at the ephemeral nature of the joys of excess, they are a Greek chorus of honesty and naked ambition. Likewise, the costumes (which won a Tony Award in 2024 for costume design) are a storytelling arc all their own. There is a sense of the infinite in the reflection of stage lights on pave rhinestones. Daisy and Jordan (Leanne Robinson) are two sides of the same coin; women trapped in a patriarchal mire where every choice comes with consequences. Their costume changes set a tone for each scene, adding in a layer of visual symbolism that Fitzgerald himself would have been proud of. See a world where everything is beautiful, and where, “Anything can happen, now that we’ve slid over this bridge.” - The Great Gatsby: A New Musical plays at the Saenger Theatre March 24-29. Click here for more information and ticketing - More New Orleans theater reviews  The cast of 'A Streetcar Named Desire' at Big Couch, New Orleans. (Photo courtesy of The Irene Collective) First Night Review: A Streetcar Named Desire @ Big Couch Review by Todd Perley Tennessee Williams’ masterpiece is certainly a product of its post-war time, but it remains a relatable marvel. I just cannot get enough of this play, and as such was beyond excited when the Irene Collective announced its performance of this keystone of American theater at Big Couch. Although Marlon Brando, Vivien Leigh, Kim Hunter, and Karl Malden may have immortalized the roles in the 1950 film adaptation, our four leads wisely avoid attempts at gimmicky impersonations. Justin Davis’s 'Mitch' is entirely his own, more boyishly playful than Malden. Lauren Guglielmello’s 'Stella' seems to have more agency in her life than Hunter’s film version. She comes across as wiser and more assertive than any Stella I’ve seen before. Patrick Nicks’ 'Stanley' is both charismatic and frightening. His unpredictable behavior makes him feral, charming, and dangerous; a wildcat that you’ve gotta keep your eye on to survive an imminent attack. His animal cries for “STELLA!!!!” can likely be heard from the street, alerting all passersby as to what play is being performed inside. And then there’s Blanche, played by co-director Jaclyn Bethany. Ohhhh, poor, tragic Blanche. Bethany’s entrance immediately puts us on edge. She’s overwrought and desperate from the top, ready to crack at any moment. Based loosely on Williams’ own well-loved but troubled sister, the role of Blanche is one of the most layered and complex of any female lead from the 20th century. Her fragility is offset by her many strengths, and it is through knowing her strengths that her ultimate destruction brings such a tidal wave of pathos to the text. Bethany seamlessly brings these opposing sides to life, often simultaneously in a single scene. As things start to heat up and fall apart in Act II, we’re right there with her on this doomed roller coaster ride. Let’s talk about the venue. Big Couch (conveniently located on Desire - is that meta?) is one of my favorite places to see a play because of its intimate size. When the seats are limited to around 40, we are in that run-down French Quarter apartment with these people. I was seated about five feet from the kitchen table. Stanley’s menacing moments are more terrifying, because we might get swatted too. The closeness of the action allows the actors quiet moments of near-whispering, a mode of delivery not possible in larger arenas. When Blanche confesses, “I’ve had many intimacies with strangers,” she might be talking about the audience seated intimately around the players. It is this immersive proximity that makes seeing a play at Big Couch a unique experience. (Last year I saw Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? in this venue, and I’d never been more frightened of Martha than in that performance, since she could have slapped me at any moment...and I wouldn’t put it past her!) It’s a rare treat to see a beloved play in such a setting, and it changes the effect of the performance. I’ve known Blanche well for decades, this being one of my favorite plays, but this is the first time seeing her that brought tears to my eyes throughout the dénouement. I was just as crushed and destroyed as she was, a mere arm’s length away. I left the theater shaken and speechless. I recommend you grab tickets ASAP, due to the limited seating. The whole cast, and the unique setting, may redefine your understanding of the material, so jump on that rattletrap streetcar through the Quarter and into the Bywater now. You can rely on the kindness of these strangers. - A Streetcar Named Desire runs at Big Couch through April 3rd. Click here for more information and ticketing. - More New Orleans theatre news and reviews Join Crescent City Stage on Thursday, April 2 for Bard at the Batture: Spring Awakening — our reimagined take on Shakespeare in the Park, set along the Mississippi River. As the sun sets, enjoy a curated evening of Shakespeare's most beloved monologues and scenes celebrating love, wit, and renewal. You might hear a sonnet, a bit of Romeo & Juliet, or other familiar favorites — all performed in a family-friendly outdoor setting. Seating options include communal picnic tables and individual Adirondack chairs, with open seating and a guaranteed spot based on your ticket selection.
• Children under 4: Free (lap seating only) • Youth ages 4–16: $20/$25 • Ages 16 and up: $35/$40 For more information and ticketing, click here  Small Craft Warnings @ Lower Depths Theatre, The Tennessee Williams Theatre Company of New Orleans (Photo by Brittney Werner) First Night Review: Small Craft Warnings by Tennessee Williams @ The Lower Depths Theatre, Loyola University Review by Dorian Hatchett Two men are at the end of a bar. One is the bartender, forever standing, busy hands polishing glasses and wiping the same place on the bar top for the thousandth time. His name is Monk, and he’s the proprietor of this juke joint. Monk is the definition of alone. Living above the bar, his entire world exists inside of this building, and while he is surrounded by people he knows better than they know themselves, he keeps no true confidence with any of them. Monk (played by James Howard Wright) is the repository of dreams and sorrows and joys, and he bears the weight of it all on a pair of stooped shoulders. Atlas himself could not have borne the weight of this sacred knowledge the way Wright hefts and wields the power of this fiefdom. He stands between the patrons and potions unbowed; the last step between thirst and inebriation. There’s a steadfast solemnity to Wright’s performance that speaks to that alone-ness, the voice of a man used to speaking aloud in an empty room. Robert Alan Mitchell plays Doc, the other man at the bar. His words are casually seedy in a way that makes us unsure at first if he’s a harmless cad or something deeply unsettling. This is a bar where cheer feels ominous. Smiles feel pasted on. Dirty jokes are the height of hollow mirth. The two men discuss a woman sitting alone on the other side of the room as though she’s not there at all. She’s drunk and crying and while most of us can feel a kinship with that moment, we will only admit to the humor of the uncontrolled messiness, not the secret shame of it. That’s Violet (Kelly Holcomb) who is a woman without a place in the universe. She’s a stumbling tragedy, perhaps beautiful but most certainly broken. The men at the bar don’t even register to her, because in a way they’re right. She’s not really there. She’s not anywhere, and she can’t seem to stop feeling the pain of everywhere. This is Small Craft Warnings by Tennessee Williams, and there’s no place in the world more appropriate than New Orleans to play a show written to howl at the sad banality of human fragility. No place better than a city with a thousand dive bars. The Tennessee Williams Theatre Company roars into its second decade of productions with this flawless rendition of a show meant to hone the sharp edges of the jagged pieces we all carry inside of our secret selves. The set designer, Nathan Arthur, has expertly crafted a set that manages to look exactly like every place we’ve all ever gotten absolutely hammered for less than $20. The Lower Depths theatre is a challenging space, and he transports us to another universe with his craft. The audience is even invited to sidle up to Monk’s Bar and buy concessions during intermission. The story is told in monologues and confrontations. Kevin Wheatley plays Bill, a man as crass and mean as the world that refuses to accept his unwillingness to work a “single day of his life” even if that means a life on the fringes of polite society. His most recent benefactor, the nomadic beautician Leona, is LaKesha Glover. They are mutually driven by a desire to not be alone, but for very different reasons. Glover’s Leona is sincere and unbridled. She’s the kind of woman that has no time or inclination for self-censorship. She feels entitled to take up space in a way that makes uptight patrons uncomfortable. Come and drink with this motley crew. Drink with Steve (Benjamin Dougherty), the perpetually sauced fry cook who accepted his lack of inertia and let it eat him alive. Dougherty has a knack for physical comedy that adds a sardonic twist to the tiny tragedies of everyday life. Drink with Quentin, who is too young to be there. Drink with Bobby, who only likes people who hate him, and drink with Tony the inspector, and all of their demons. There’s a storm blowing in off of the Pacific, and if you’re going to be trapped somewhere in the downpour, it should be in Monk’s Place. - Small Craft Warnings plays through March 29th at the Lower Decks Theatre at Loyola University, click here for show information and box office - More theater - New Orleans ON Stage for March |
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