It started as just a chance to take the parents to a show we knew theyād like. Theyāre big fans of classic American musicals, and they donāt come more classic and American than Oklahoma! The folks are a bit too superannuated to make it down to Ashland. But a drive to familiar Forest Grove, they could handle. Thatās how we wound up on closing night of what I foolishly assumed would be a podunk production of an overfamiliar American classic perpetrated by a team from west of Portlandās creative center, and produced by a community theater company on a too-small stage miles from Portland. At best, I thought, maybe the folks would enjoy it even if I rolled my eyes.
Boy, was I wrong! Theatre in the Groveās May production of Rodgers & Hammersteinās 1943 classic turned out to be one of my most surprisingly delightful theatrical adventures this year.
I realized we were in for something special in the fraught duet āPore Jud is Daid,ā in which the protagonist Curly McClain (winningly played and sung by Austin Hampshire) tries to inveigle his nemesis, farmhand Jud Fry, into committing suicide. Jason Weed directs it as a dangerous dance, with Curly circling Jud, smiling and nodding toward an imagined noose. And in the crucial scene between Jud and Laurey Williams, the woman he and Curly both desire, director Weed and actors Brandon Weaver and Jade Tate show us that Laurey isnāt a simple goody two shoes love interest, nor is Jud a stereotypical bad guy. Sheās shallow, self-absorbed, while heās vulnerable, even damaged. Yet those dimensions somehow donāt conflict with their main actions in the story. Theyāre complicated humans, not inconsistent characters.

The main credit for Judās dimensionality ā and the lionās share of the abundant audience applause, rare for the bad guy in any show ā went to Weaver, whose spectacular, deeply considered performance is one of the finest Iāve seen in an Oregon musical. Far more than a simple black hatted villain, he could be genuinely terrifying, even while merely glaring at other characters, and yet in the same scene subtly reveal the anguish beneath the brutality. Weaver, another Hillsboro native whoās appeared in two dozen Grove performances since 1990, deserves wider exposure. I hope to see him on other Oregon stages soon.
The other big revelation for me was Weed. In his first Grove production, the artistic director of Newbergās Chehalem Rep managed to keep our eyes moving and alighting on the right spots, despite deploying a three-dozen strong cast on a relatively tiny stage further cramped by the presence of a dozen-member orchestra. Every important moment was thoughtfully staged, and even the big crowd scenes and choral songs contained little silent vignettes in which almost every actor used facial or bodily expression to portray some mini-drama. They werenāt just standing there watching or singing. The theaterās low-rising stage and steeply raked seating helped here, enabling Weed to use every inch and keep it all visible.
In some scenes, Weed, a Hillsboro High grad whoās been involved in various local community productions, divided the stage into three parts, with action happening simultaneously yet not distracting from the main storyline. It made a fictional tiny townlet in 1906 Oklahoma territory feel like a real world. His vision brought out the darker, weirder side of Oklahoma! ā and America ā than I remember from the movie version.
Other compelling performances came from Sarah Thornton, whose superb comic timing and expressive, Shelley Duvall-style movement overcame her vocal limitation in the upper range of the part of Ado Annie, the gal who caināt say no; her off-again, on-again fiancee, not-so-bright Will Parker, smartly played and sung by Scott Smith; and Benjamin Philip, whose wry, knowing Ali Hakim pilfered every scene he entered. Even bit player Kate Barrett shone as she snorted her way through the minor role of Gertie Cummings.

I havenāt even mentioned Kristen Hellerās clever choreography (especially impressive in such a limited space), crisply executed by the entire cast, nor the bandās supportive performance led by Brandon Van Dyke, Sofia Sofinskaiaās evocative mural and the rest of the successful design teamās work across the board. That loaded duet, for example, takes place in Judās ingeniously designed cramped shed, which was rolled downstage for maximum effect, then returned to the side to act as backdrop.Ā The packed house registered its vocal approval for many minutes after the final āOK!ā
Itās easy for those of us who tend to hang out at Oregonās professional theaters to ignore or dismiss whatās going on outside the Portland metro area and Ashland. This was my first encounter with Theatre in the Grove, and while I know from experience that not all Oregon small-scale theater can approach such heights, Iāll try never to underestimate our less-renowned theaters again.
And yes, the parents loved it, too.
Theatre in the Grove‘s next production, The Savannah Sipping Society, runs June 1-17 atĀ 2028 Pacific Ave.Ā Forest Grove. Tickets online or atĀ 503-359-5349.
Ghost Bust
Imaginative direction and bold production also characterize another West Side production of an early 1940s classic: Blithe Spirit, now running at Hillsboroās The Vault. Unfortunately, even Bag & Baggage Productionsā best efforts canāt redeem Noel Cowardās thin, dated spoof of the 1930s spirituality scams that caught up even figures as smart as Harry Houdini and Arthur Conan Doyle.
WriterĀ Charles Condomine, determined to prove the fraudulence of attempts to connect to loved ones on the other side of deathās divide (or at least to collect novelistic details about the whole sham), invites medium Madame Arcati to conduct a seance at his home, withĀ his second wife, Ruth, and skeptical friendĀ Dr. Bradman and his smarmy wife along to witness the silliness. Complications ensue when the intimacy-challenged Condomine’s dead first wife, Elvira (whom only he can see) answers the summons, bringing a hidden agenda of her own.

The showās initial 2,000-performance run may be credited in part to its distracting Britons from massive wartime death and destruction, and impending threat of invasion. Itās been revived and cinemized often. I realize a lot of people still like Noel Coward, and if you do, youāll appreciate a production as clever, polished, and energetic as this one. Even my companion, who loathes Cowardās work, thought the show worth seeing just for its admirable, un-Cowardly aspects.
But for me (and apparently the rest of the sedate audience on this opening weekend), it seems neither blithe nor spirited. It might have been preferable to the Blitz, but in 2018, the alleged witticisms fall flat, the clunky plot makes no sense, the characters are as unvarying as the story is uninvolving and the over-extended dialogue unfunny.Ā While director Scott Palmerās choice to emphasize the darker side of Coward’s chilly characters lent some needed depth and abrasiveness, it may also have scuffed away some of the sparkle that fans cherish.Ā More likely though, whatever shine Coward’s dialogue once radiated today seems faded by time.
Usually, when a classic sputters, you blame the production. But here, itās hard to imagine what more the company could have done to invigorate a story that drags on far too long for its thin content. In fact, with a handful of exceptions, every single sporadic audience chuckle loud enough to notice came not in response to Cowardās lines ā but to Palmerās uproarious unscripted and unspoken additions, expertly executed by his team of crack B&B regulars. Seldom have so many worked so hard and so well to make a better production of a worse play.
Those include Tyler Buswellās handsome, grey-black-silver-white set design (and Melissa Hellerās complementary costumes and masterful makeup, easily visible in the intimate space); a vintage 1980s pop soundtrack that replaces Irving Berlin with The Smiths, General Public, the Romantics and other bands Iāve generally tried to forget; Palmerās hilarious blocking, pulled off with necessary split-second timing even on opening weekend; and entire silent subplots created through movement in the spaces between the lines, especially one involving Edith, an uptight maid perfectly played with side-splitting skittishness by Arianne Jacques.
B&B stalwart Kymberli Colbourne adds to her sterling track record with an over-the-top portrayal of Madame Arcati as a butch, swaggering, cycling, cigar-chomping, southern-fried medium contrived from equal parts Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam and perhaps (briefly) James Tiberius Kirk. Her dazzling eye makeup alone should have received a character listing in the program.

Everyone else save the maid engages in precise upper-class Brit-speak, with Andrew Beck suitably supercilious as Charles Condomine, Cassie Greer bitingly bitter as Ā Ruth, Jessi Waltersā increasingly petulant Elvira, and Peter Schuyler and Jessica Geffen (abetted by more Palmeristic inflection and emphasis) doing the best they can with the underwritten characters of the Bradmans.
But unlike earlier Bag & Baggage triumphs with similarly unpromising material like Shakespeareās feeble Titus Andronicus and Arthur Millerās stolid The Crucible,Ā neither their spot-on acting nor Palmerās inspired direction nor the rest of this slick, scintillating production can rescue Cowardās tottering script.Ā As the second half cranked tediously on and on despite the lack of plot interest or laughs, the peppy production insertions seemed increasingly like desperate attempts to pump air into Madame Arcatiās hopelessly punctured bike tire. Unless youāre a devoted Noel fan, even their valiant efforts canāt overcome this tired scriptās Coward-ice.
Bag & Baggage’s Blithe Spirit by Noel Coward runs through May 27 atĀ The Vault Theater, 350 E Main Street, Hillsboro. Tickets online at bagnbaggage.org or Ā 503 345 9590.
Want to read more about Oregon theater? Support Oregon ArtsWatch!