The intended purpose of this monthly column is to bring to the attention of cinema junkies those odd and typically genre defying films which may have slipped, justifiably or not, beneath the radar of even the most diehard film aficionados. For the offerings I shall
I really love theatre that boldly goes where no ensemble has gone before. In the past William A. Reilly and Gary Lamb of Crown City Theatre Company have proven that they are capable of pushing the envelope with firm resolve. Whenever speaking of the best of L.A. stage,
A lot of attention is being given to that first basket, the “basket of deplorables,” as Mrs. Clinton called it and, in so doing, started a small fire storm.
Ivo Van Hove’s production now at the Ahmanson has worked through both London and New York with great triumph.
Full disclosure: I am not a fan of the shows of playwright Peter Lefcourt and director Terri Hanauer. Their prior productions, such as The Assassination of Leon Trotsky: A Comedy and Café Society, have struck me as style blatantly masquerading as substance, with more money than
It was rather fitting that on the night of the first presidential debate I found myself sitting in the audience, lean as it was, for The Echo Theater Company’s staging of Mary Laws’ Blueberry Toast. Like The China Syndrome—the 1979 Jane Fonda thriller about corruption and
A Mexican Trilogy: An American Story, a multi-award winning work by Evelina Fernández is fiercely ambitious, thoroughly and intelligently mounted on a slick two tiered set by Francois-Pierre Couture, artistically lit by Pablo Santiago, surfeit of great singing and talented actors such as Robert Beltran,
Anaïs Nin’s life and legacy has had more ups and downs than a pogo stick competition at a school for hyper-active youths. Critical appraisal of her works Delta of Venus, Little Birds and others was usually vicious and largely dismissive most of her life. When her novel,
When the topic turns to the worst series ever, one is walking a tightrope of wet tissue.
