There are rugs everywhere, hanging from the walls like ancient tapestries, in huge piles behind the audience, as if the world we’ve entered were smothered in an abundance of treasure -- a perfect setting for Othello.
Read MoreBlank Map, created and performed by a temporary collective of queer African-American performance artists and produced under the aegis of the dancer, choreographer, and provocateur Keith Hennessy, apparently had a fraught birth.
Read MoreIn Penelope Skinner’s world, experience has nothing on desire. Desire confounds and obliterates without even trying. And we should celebrate her and Shotgun's production for recognizing that.
Read MoreStacy Ross’s Benedick is as strange and magnetic a performance as you are likely to get this year. Dressed as a man, in a tight, striped jacket and floppy hair, she resembles, moves, and behaves like Michael Jackson.
Read MoreSummer is the season where you dream of nothing happening, and yet, strangely, it is also the season for radical transformations.
Read MoreJoseph Moncure Marsh’s The Wild Party is a singular piece of American poetry, a lurid, epic written in a jazzy doggerel verse. Andrew Lippa's musical version catches the beauty of Marsh's trash aesthetic and forces us to hum along. That's nice.
Read MoreWatch Carl Lumbly’s face in SF Playhouse’s production of Red Velvet, and it seems as if you can read hundreds of distinct variations of despair, hope, and dismay on it.
Read MoreThere have been too many corpses in San Francisco recently -- the bullet-ridden bodies of Alex Nieto and Mario Woods -- killed in strange and discouraging encounters with the police. Paul Flores understands why, kind of.
Read MoreThe strangest and most unnerving aspect of Edgar Oliver’s beautiful solo performance, Helen & Edgar, is that he seems to be living his childhood all over again, as if it were a boa constrictor strangling any chance at real life.
Read MorePlays are written and felt, not designed. And that's always a crucial problem with Mary Zimmerman's work.
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