I’ve been very lucky to see two outstanding plays in the space of about a week. Though I haven’t been much of a theater goer in the past, I’m trying to make up for lost time now that I know what I’m missing.

A few years ago I saw my first play only because it was written and produced by my favorite writer and one of the few living literary titans, Ray Bradbury. It was a chance to meet someone who influenced me greatly and the play was almost besides the point. Or so I thought. The theater was small, but budget non-existent, the set dressing minimal, and yet I was completely transported. I had no idea such a thing was possible. Ignorant me.

Now I’m hooked.

Yestermorrows

Last week I and my writing partner, also an admirer of Ray’s, attended Bradbury’s latest production, Yestermorrows at the Fremont Centre Theatre in South Pasadena. Three one-acts are adapted from Ray’s short stories, “A Device Out of Time”, “The Cistern”, and “The Meadow”. All three concern characters who struggle to hold on to something they’ve lost, be it memories of a long gone era, a run-away lover, or a dilapidated make-believe world facing its final annihilation. All are outstandingly acted and presented with minimal but creatively designed sets.

The high point of the show comes early with the first act. I’ve been lucky to see “Device” presented twice before as part of other shows, each time astoundingly and forcefully performed by David Fox Brenton as Colonel Freeleigh. Two young brothers pay a visit to Freeleigh, who acts as their “time machine” — taking them back to see the tragic last performance of a stage magician, to experience the thundering sound and awe-inspiring sight of the last buffalo heard, to feel the fears and doubts of a drummer boy on the brink of a bloody Civil War battle. Thankfully, the young brothers are played by real children (real-life brothers Daniel and Seth Casanova) and they do a fine job. Their period costumes^[1] evoked a Rockwellian era long since past, and Daniel’s performance easily captured the spirit of the curious and energetic Tom Spaulding. I’ve seen several Toms now and his was most like I imagined from reading Dandelion Wine.

“The Cistern” features another winning performance, this time by Georgan George as Anna, at turns delightfully nutty and achingly, desperately tragic, she is a woman driven mad when forced to meditate on the loss of her lover one long, endlessly rainy afternoon. If you read “The Cistern”, you’ll know that it contains reams of Bradbury’s elevated dialogue. A little more poetic and lofty but never pretentious or self-conscious, such stylized dialogue would seem impossible to perform, but George pulls it off flawlessly and naturally. There was one miscue when it appeared the act had ended and resulted in sustained audience applause, but there was a short bit still to be performed. If the lighting for the next segment had come up sooner, the transition might have worked better. There were a few technical glitches like this, but in a small community theater you just have to roll with.

The final act, “The Meadow”, featured another two wonderful performances. Michael Prichard plays the Night Watchman at an aging movie studio backlot who refuses to let memory and imagination die. The electrifying Steven Robert Wollenberg is Studio Chief Douglas, a man who doesn’t recognize the value of his own property until the Night Watchman takes him on a whimsical, lyrical tour of what it all means. I did catch Wollenberg cueing Prichard on a forgotten line, but I don’t think anyone but a stage actor would have noticed.

And of course, the best reason to attend any Ray Bradbury play is Ray himself. Opening night, Ray spoke briefly to the audience and watched the play along with us. He hung out in the lobby before the show, and attended a reception afterwards. He was very accessible and loved meeting his fans. Yestermorrows runs through Saturday, August 29 September 5th. Performances are Fridays and Saturdays at 8 pm, and Sundays at 3 pm. I’d recommend calling to see if Ray will be in attendance. Best bet for another Bradbury sighting is probably closing night.

Mastermind

Mastermind is covered in awesome sauce. In fact, it makes its own awesome sauce, that’s how awesome it is!

Mastermind is a one act play written by fellow screenblogger Michael Patrick Sullivan (you may remember him from such blogs as Red Right Hand). I drove through two hours of hair-loss inducing traffic from my cave in south Orange County to the intimate shoebox theater of the Eclectic Company for this, and about half-way through the commute, I was pretty sure I’d made a huge mistake. I mean, I want to support my fellow bloggers and all, but this had already gone from friendly gesture to serious investment in time and energy. Also, there was only one-hour parking available and I was sure the show would go longer. And I had a pile of work waiting for me at home. What the hell was I doing out?

Okay, I’m partly anxious by nature, especially when I have to leave the cave and interact with, you know, people. Also, I’m a bit of a dick.

So I knew it was a good play because the moment the lights went down and the first few moments of the Mastermind’s pre-recorded bomb warning were broadcast through the on-set TV, I was hooked. The play owned me from the first moment to the last.

There are four reasons for this: writer Sullivan, actors Brad Wilcox and Beth Ricketson, and director Susan Lee.

Wilcox plays J.D., an amnesiac who believes he may be evil genius Mastermind who has threatened to explode a bomb somewhere in the city. It’s a role Wilcox navigates with ease, taking turns as the wonderfully sympathetic and confused john doe burdened by the possible deeds of his past, and the witty super villain who moves about the stage like an oily snake, slowly stalking its prey.

Sullivan manages to weave a story full of surprises, fun and mystery while never losing sight of his two characters and their relationship. The script is masterfully executed and director Susan Lee brings out its best qualities, nimbly balancing the fun and frolic with drama and danger. Lee was also the costume designer, and The Mastermind is decked out with just the right touch of steampunk — goggles with muliple lenses, shiny brass chains and trinkets. It’s not overdone, but it makes the Mastermind distinct and colorful and, yes, even more likable.

I met Michael in the theater lobby before the show, calmly sitting on the sofa. Like he was waiting for his dry cleaning or something. I see now why he was so calm. Mastermind is full of awesome, and he had every reason to feel good about it. I feel lucky to have seen this particular production, and sadly the performance I attended was the last. Here’s hoping Mastermind will return in some way in the future.

It’s too good not to.

1. but unfortunately not their hair [↩]