The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

As with so many theaters of southeast and mid-Michigan, the Encore Musical Theatre Company is like a temple of ingenuity, with homemade aisles and risers and essentially no wings (on one side of the stage is an actual brick wall). The company's mission is to bring Broadway talent to its stage to work with local professionals, yet this small space has an intimacy an actual Broadway stage could never reach. For a group that produces only musicals, which traditionally feature huge casts and splashy production elements, this introduces myriad opportunities and challenges, both of which are well met by The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.

However long, this is one literal title: behold, the silver anniversary of a county spelling bee (the winner of which qualifies for the national championship in Washington, DC). Aside from a few flashback/fantasies and one literal deus ex machina, the play's uninterrupted nearly two hours are confined to a school gymnasium until the winner is declared. However, with credit to librettist/composer William Finn and writer Rachel Sheinkin, the clearly laid-out structure of the competition is wisely broken up by dances, songs, rants, prayers, slow motion, a juice break, and even a little flirting; the show bounces and bops without straying too far from the story, and the time flies.

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The Tale of the Allergist's Wife

This review was a long time coming — at least two days later than I intended to post. Unfortunately, the extra time hasn't softened my frustration with this show. Don't get me wrong, The Tale of the Allergist's Wife isn't a bad production: for me, bad outings inspire malaise, not agitation. Instead, the conviction that's nagged at me since I left the Jewish Ensemble Theatre is that this one could and should have been better.

Charles Busch's plot-driven script concerns Marjorie Taub (Kate Willinger), who we meet in the throes of lamentation of the "idle rich" variety. She's bereft at the death of her therapist, and all the graduate-level literature and culture in the world can't shake off the sense that her life took a wrong turn somewhere. Enter Lee Green (Lynnae Lehfeldt), a childhood friend turned world-traveling mover and shaker, littering the scene with dropped names. However, suspicion quickly builds in Marjorie's husband, Ira (Phil Powers), and her mother, Frieda (Henrietta Hermelin); as immersed in Lee's world as Marjorie has become, no one else has even lain eyes on the woman — a conflict that comes to a head in a snappy and perfectly paced scene at the end of the first act. The second act shifts gears to examine a relationship that turns toxic, and the ending is predictably preachy-cathartic.

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The Lady with All the Answers

In transforming the Tipping Point stage into Ann Landers's living room, set designer Michelle LeRoy held back, using a few key furniture pieces, an extravagant square of hardwood floor, and a wall in just one corner of the black-box space. But what an understatement it is: the wall is the first thing one sees from the theater lobby (like peering into a dollhouse window), giving the initial impression of a full interior without overwhelming the senses during the performance. Moreover, the in-the-round setup means the wall necessarily appears behind the audience, literally enveloping viewers into the setting, as does the furniture that skirts the line between seats and stage. The overall effect of this innovation serves as fair warning for what an intimate production is in store, and this staging of The Lady with All the Answers could not have been as successful without it.

The lady in question is Eppie Lederer, known to most as Ann Landers, as portrayed with gusto by Julia Glander. This one-woman show spans a late evening in 1975, as the world-famous advice columnist sorts through old letters for publication in a book, reminisces about her career and relationships, and slowly composes a column whose subject threatens to cancel out all her past advice about marriage: the one announcing her impending divorce. The lyrical script by David Rambo (with the cooperation of Lederer's daughter, Margo Howard) makes plenty of discoveries while skating toward its conclusion; a few scarce moments that rattled like a recited biography only stuck out in contrast to the exquisite character study that prevails.

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Shoulder to the Wheel

There's a certain bravado on display in director/compiler Lyndsay Michalik's Shoulder to the Wheel; even her program notes have a daring assertiveness, deferring description of what the play is about until she explains what it is [emphasis hers]. And here, in an assortment of scenes and pieces purported to weave a tapestry of American life and culture, this confidence proves to be quite at home.

Michalik's eight ensemble performers take the construction-zone stage for vignettes ranging from heartfelt monologues to abstract juxtaposition to joyous group dances. With original material from fourteen writers, we spend little time with any single perspective, which gave me the disappointing impression of a shallow overview. Presented with a fractured assortment of one-off and briefly recurring characters, I was forced to take the long view, and in so doing realized that these uniquely American points of view were primarily united in being loud, self-assured, and helplessly indulgent. Brought into sharp focus by an expatriate character — who herself cannot help betraying shades of the Ugly American she supposedly abhors — the play wants to convince us that there are a lot of right ways to be American, but unintentionally reinforces how much Americans like to be right.

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The Servant of Two Masters

Do not panic at the prelude to The Servant of Two Masters. They will start speaking English in a minute.

The newest Hilberry offering instantly plunges into the lighthearted goofiness of classic Commedia dell'Arte, as the supporting cast of clowns (all named Zany, rhymes with Yanni) gape out at the audience and then give officiously imbecilic etiquette reminders. It's both an efficient crash course in the style — "Hello, audience! We will frequently acknowledge your presence!" — and an example of director Lavinia Hart's resolve to pack ten pounds of comedy into a five-pound bag. The raucousness never lets up, similarly spilling over into intermission and curtain call; in its search for comedy potential, this production leaves no stone unturned.

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