 Terry Miles as Dr Bowman in Aquamob NOLA's 2001: An Odyssey Into the Deep (photo: Javier Hernandez/@notjavi.vid) Splashdown in space: Aquamob return with 2001: An Odyssey Into the Deep
Review by Todd Perley Aquamob did it again, y'all, once more dipping into the Kubrick well. Last year’s “Wendy, Darling”, a sendup of The Shining was bloody hilarious (emphasis on the ‘bloody’) and I’ve been waiting impatiently for a year for their next blood-soaked, satirical, musical water ballet. We begin with rival gangs of screeching hominids fighting (and dancing) in the pool, crawling out onto land and continuing their frenzied battle. If you’re in the front row, you’re in the splash zone, so choose your seat depending on your preference, and caveat emptor. My companions got pool water and monkey blood all over them, an evolutionary Gallagher-esque treat. The creatures find the monolith and learn the lessons of tools and weapons, and one small ape, played by an adorable little girl of about ten years, uses a stray femur to beat another ape to death. I’m always happy to see children enjoying their bludgeoning. If audiences of Stanley Kubrick’s film in 1968 were confused by the surreal messages meant to ask more questions than they answer, today’s audience will have the same opportunity to interpret Aquamob’s atmospheric tale. (Who says space can’t have an atmosphere?). Though the film is heavy and long, there’s really very little plot or dialogue, you may recall, which opens up all sorts of avenues for interpretation and satire. I would recommend refreshing yourself to the source material. This assignment should be a joy, as the film is just so good, and when’s the last time you saw it anyway? To bring things into the 21st century, the HAL-9000 (and AI in general) is on the table for discussion. Creators Cody Evans Gan and Noelle Tollet do not treat this complicated subject in facile black-and-white. AI is neither ‘good’ nor ‘bad’, but nuanced between how it can serve, and the danger of humans relying on it too much. Dr. Bowman (Terry Miles) and Dr. Poole (Rebecca Poole) grapple with HAL’s usefulness and traitorous behavior. Cody Keech appears in a couple roles to give much-needed exposition in amusing ways, first as a Tucker Carlson/Max Headroom-type idiot reporter, and later as the recording the astronauts were supposed to hear once they landed on Jupiter which explains HAL’s conflicted motivation. The cast is dedicated ... and soooo numerous, with about 30 people performing as actors or damp (and bloody) ballet dancers. The use of water as a Zero-G environment is effective and hilarious. The band The Kissing Disease plays The Doors and David Bowie as well as they play Strauss’s “Also Sprach Zarathustra” made iconic in Kubrick’s film (but now on electric guitars). And there’s a pole dance worthy of Cirque du Soleil on a bizarre contraption neither I nor anyone seated near me had seen before. Yes, I asked everyone around me at intermission, “What IS that thing?” Shrugs, with smiles. Funny, rockin’, and surprisingly thought-provoking, it’s difficult to say who’s having more fun: the players, or the audience. When the ten year old girl emerges again at the end, held aloft as the Starchild wrapped in umbilical cords and finger-booping Dr. Bowman, the audience roared. Nobody is doing what Aquamob is doing, and if someone tried, chances are slim they’d pull it off as expertly as this company. I’m going to have another long, fidgety year awaiting the next time they open their pod bay doors, HAL. If we’re sticking with Stanley Kubrick next year, might I suggest Eyes Wide Shut? That could be filthy and absurd. 2001: An Odyssey Into the Deep plays at the Midtwon Hotel through October 10th. Click here for show and ticketing information  The cast of Jersey Boys (photo: Jeremy Daniel) Jersey Boys @ The Saenger Theatre Review by Lauren Malara Hey-la, hey-la, Jersey Boys is back! As part of the 20th anniversary tour, this Tony Award-winning musical has returned to the Saenger Theatre. The show is fast, fun, and filled with hit songs. It was no surprise when audience members got up to dance at the end of Act II. Oh, what an opening night, late September, down in New Orleans... This heartfelt story follows a group of boys from Jersey as they make their way to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. A code of brotherhood guides the boys as they navigate mobsters and music executives. With spirited and focused performances, you won’t take your eyes off the stage. The cast serenades the audience into a trance, inviting them to step into the past via their incredible legacy of hit songs. You've heard their hits no matter your age: you might just not realize who recorded these classics: Let's Hang On (To What We Got), Can't Take My Eyes Off You, and Working My Way Back to You are just some of the instantly-evocative singalong numbers. Oram (Frankie Valli)’s vocal mastery is nuanced, taking the audience on a journey as he learns to walk like a man. In addition to his soothing voice, McCredie (Nick Massi) offers some strong comedic moments. Sperduto (Tommy DeVito) plays the closest thing the show has to a villain, but his warm performance can’t give you anything but love. Schoenhofer (Bob Gaudio) is so affable and grounded; as he fights for Valli, it’s hard to remember that big girls don’t cry. Even if you’ve seen it, make your way back. The songs and story have a lasting effect. You’ll leave the theatre singing and begging to stay. Jersey Boys plays at The Saenger Theatre through Sept 27th, with matinee and evening shows this weekend. Click here for show and ticketing information  First Night review: Something Cloudy, Something Clear by Tennessee Williams @ Lower Depths Theatre9/17/2026
 The Tennessee Williams Theatre Company's production of Something Cloudy, Something Clear, playing now at the Lower Depths Theatre (photo by Brittney Werner) First night: Something Cloudy, Something Clear Review by Dorian Hatchett Tennessee Williams' works come in two main flavors: the grand narrative, and the ghost play. His narratives are legendary for their deeply human story lines and near-universal appeal. The ghost plays are trickier; non-linear collections of vignettes slide across the stage, like sand through an hourglass. Main characters are haunted from within the capsules of their own memories and actions; ghosts lay bare the pain and beauty of living, unencumbered by a sense of responsibility to the fragile egos of the haunted. Williams described Something Cloudy, Something Clear as his most autobiographical work. Set in the dunes of Provincetown in 1940, the play recounts a summer as a young playwright, looking both forward and backward into the supporting characters of his own life: those who shaped his voice as an artist. Matt Bloom is August. He is a writer both finding his feet (in the sand) and his place in the world (at the bottom, for now). Like so many artists before or since, the existential tug-of-war between truth and marketability is a source of heartache that colors all of his experiences. Bloom's search for authenticity takes no prisoners; he is a newcomer to the TWTC cast, but you would never guess that. He melts into the part of August like a second skin, and the audience can almost taste the way the salt air filters the urgency of his emotions. Heartache doesn’t stop for poverty or social faux pas, after all. Kip is played by Jordan Majeau. We learn that he is an undocumented immigrant, a draft dodger, a dancer...and then the secrets begin. With a real world history of professional dance, Majeau embodies Kip as a physical presence that is so strong and refined that the twisted reality of his situation, when it is finally revealed, strikes the audience like a physical blow. Nicole Francis Miller is Clare. At first we see the facilitator; the social director. The deeper we move into the character, though, the more clearly we see the cracks in her veneer. There's grace and beauty, sure, but Miller's Clare is also possessed of a profound power that comes with the knowledge of the workings of the world, and all the psychic scars that come with that. The supporting cast, the ghosts of past and future, and the harsh realities of the present, light up with equal parts pain and elation on a tableau of the petty tragedies and joys that make a life whole. Nathan Arthur has once again created a set that is so much bigger than the stage it sits on. The production design is flawless, with the characteristic attention to detail that Tennessee Williams Theatre Company is known, and rightly admired for. The Tennessee Williams Theatre Company presents Something Cloudy, Something Clear through September 27th at the Lower Depths Theatre at Loyola University. Click here for show and ticketing information The second of Crescent City Stage's Bard at the Batture events (last year's was a resounding success) belongs to Shakespeare's women…Beatrice's sharp tongue, Lady Macbeth's ambition, Rosalind's wit, Juliet's longing…six remarkable actresses, one riverfront, the sun going down over the Mississippi. Wit, longing, and a little rebellion. About 60 minutes, no intermission. Shows on October 5th and 6th. Tickets are live now, click here to reserve your spot   The Rose Tattoo, now playing at the Marquette Theatre (photo credit: Brittany Werner) Tennessee Williams' The Rose Tattoo @ The Marquette Theatre Review by Dorian Hatchett Comedy as a reaction to the pain of humanity seems like a natural tool of the witty and somber playwright. In The Rose Tattoo, Tennessee Williams wields wit and wisdom like knives, stripping away social convention and leaving behind the hilarious, awkward truth: being human is an inherently ridiculous thing. One of the most beautiful qualities of Tennessee Williams Theatre Company's productions is their flawless casting. Kristin Witt as Serafina clings to memory as a stabilizing force. The ghost of her late husband is a blanket she wraps around herself to insulate her from the realities of the world. As many parents do, she assumes her daughter Rosa (Lauren Van Mullem) will take after her perfectly, and so Rosa’s rebellious desire to involve herself in society feels like a betrayal to Serafina. This betrayal only adds to the strained parent-teenager relationship, and there's explosive chemistry between Witt and Van Mullem, believable even in its hyperbolic affectation. Add in generational strife between an immigrant and her first generation American child, and the recipe for conflict is complete. Alvaro Mangiacavallo is played by Nick DiJulio. The character yearns for a place in the world, in love with love and desperate to belong to someone else. His entirely chance meeting with Serafina is electric with possibility, and he is laser focused on making her the center of his world like the final puzzle piece to his imagined happiness. No measure of romantic gesture is too great for his intended, including intentionally making himself irresistible to her by putting on the identity of her late husband like a mask he’s trying on. DiJulio is frantic and hilarious in the character of Mangiacavallo, with endless energy for the things he wants and exactly none for the things he doesn’t. Alex Martinez Wallace as the black goat is physical comedy personified. He moves in and out of the fourth wall as a delightful chaos agent (Wallace is also the show’s violence coordinator, which seems incredibly apropos for someone who channels a goat so well). His mischief is only barely contained by the Strega (Janet Shea) whose ambiguous malice may or may not be imagined by Serafina. Ms. Shea has a lifelong familiarity with the play, having played Rosa much earlier in her career. Set designer Nathan Arthur has once again delivered a flexible, expansive environment in a very small space. Together with lighting design (Diane K. Bass), the movement through space and time is palpable, even on an unchanging background. The characters on stage are inseparable from the actors thanks to that deft casting, and it's another masterful portrayal by the company of the giant personalities in Williams’ vision. The Rose Tattoo plays through August 9th at the Marquette Theatre at Loyola University. Click here for show information and ticketing  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 |
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