Grangeville by Samuel D. Hunter

Tim Cummings and Jeff LeBeau

 By Joe Straw

Oh, we’re doing that kind of presentation. – Narrator

The Ruskin Group Theatre presents Grangeville by Samuel D. Hunter, directed by John Perrin Flynn, and Produced by John Ruskin and Michael R. Myers through July 25^th, 2026.

The trailer was an intangible mess.  The door possibly sealed shut because no one went in or out and truth be told the look made one feel that no one was going to come out now or forever. Sure, there was an exit and an entrance but not through that flap and we’ll leave it at that.

She, with a capital S, had to be kept in because She was in no condition to come out.  She was having trouble. Age. After her second stroke things just went haywire what with the bill payments and personal management, and that’s when signs of life started to slowly move toward the hereafter.    

And, in life, death was all just a matter of time.

The outside of the trailer was also in shambles held together by cardboard cutouts attached to this beast to keep the warmth in or to keep the cold out.  Their trailer lifted like a prehistoric monster that seem to stretch to infinity, up and down, north and south, east or west which ever you preferred, sitting on a dry piece of darkened land near a highway in Grangeville, Idaho. (Beautiful Scenery Design by Stephanie Kerley Schwartz)

Jerry (Jeff LeBeau) her son, knew she was in trouble.  He was in well over his head if he had any sense in that Idaho brain of his.   His desire superseded his abilities necessitating a call to his younger brother Arnold (Tim Cummings), - well half-brother for help - who is now an artist living in Amsterdam.

Arnold was a sentient being when applicable, rather morose, quiet, ubiquitous and wasn’t in the mood to talk or offer any loving inflections to his older brother. He was still mad and stayed that way for the duration of his conversation. Still, there was a glimmer of hope.

Jerry gave a complimenting smile over the video, a dry smile, with just a wisp of an upturned grin. His eyes displayed another story – albeit a self-induced forgotten one - that dismissed all their history and all the trouble he was having knowing to bring it up would only incur the wrath that he knew would be coming.

And all Arnold could do was to stare into the phone, or speak to his partner in another room, and then come back with that same dry sense of worth forgetting for a moment the indissoluble alliance he had with his brother and his mother.  

Arnold said he would take care of all the medical bills, at least investigate it, to see if he could handle that medical quagmire of the hospital accounting department.  

And as the time slipped by Jerry was not forthcoming.  There was much to do, information to impart with, but that tempered relationship would be appropriated later, if that was even a possibility.  

There was a point in this production, under John Perrin Flynn’s direction where one was completely lost, for about two minutes. The dialogue of two characters supposedly Arnold and Jerry were speaking an almost incomprehensible language until the mind focused, the eyes narrowed, and one discovered that one person was a completely different character. And with the two players, in the same space, speaking to each other, this wasn’t a videoconference from thousands of miles away.

Hense: “Oh, we’re doing that kind of presentation.”

An indefinable quality that left an indelible impression and maybe a moment to be further explored. One can understand why Samuel D. Hunter, the writer, creatively chose a smelting of the minds, perhaps needing a reason of having characters become the partner of the other, to further enhance the theatrical conclusion and/or gaining another perspective within the character.  Whether the scenes are real or a figment of someone’s heightened imagination have yet to be determined.  

Those scenes are not the writer’s choice of theatrical economy but rather a reason for moving Jerry and Arnold’s relationship to a favorable outcome.  Naytheless, these scenes required a defining action that resolves the brother’s issues and propels the audience toward the end on the play.   While guided exquisitely under John Perrin Flynn’s direction perhaps another viewing is in order to completely grasp a better understanding.

Samuel D Hunter’s writing is infinitely alarming and at times subtle to the tune of tearing your heart out. The brothers have got a lot of life to iron out, the brutalities, the lies, and betrayals before they can claim a personified relationship. But understanding each other’s position requires a tad more exploration.

We know how it starts and how it ends but we don’t know the intellectual mechanism that truly got them to their destination.  (Life isn’t the quick and easy answer, and theatre sends you out questioning the resolution.)  But, more than likely, the answers are in their relationship with their partners that may be the gateway to resolving Jerry and Arnold’s relationship.  

Tim Cummings (Arnold) is back on the boards after a lengthy hiatus.  It couldn’t have come at a better time. His work is fascinating, sometimes measured, in small increments, and his concentration superb. The inebriated scene wasn’t as focused and physically didn’t move the character toward his objective. Finding the answer in this scene is a tricky one. Still, the work is outstanding.

Jeff LeBeau (Jerry) conveys the weight of the world on his shoulders. Aside from his mother, and the trouble she’s having, he must make up to his brother, something that he is not willing to do.  Perhaps this might make an uneducated Idaho man weak and injudicious. There’s too much to be forgiven. Jerry’s way, although misbegotten, is his way. LeBeau’s Netherland accent as Bram was terrific and his manner on stage was exquisite.

Stephanie Kerley Schwartz’s costume design sets the dark somber moods throughout the play giving us a glimmer of hope throughout the darkness.

Keith Stevenson, sound designer, provides excellent sound of cars traveling along a stretch of highway.  

The trailer plays a significant role and exemplifies myriad ideas of confined human sufferings. Whether it is intentional or a figment of one’s imagination one can’t say.

A lot of time, money, and effort went in to create this production and it could not have happened without the creative team listed below.

Nicole Millar – Production Stage Manager

Dan Weingarten – Lighting Designer

Deirdre O’Connor – Assistant Stage Manager

Jan Bryant & Dan Speaker – Stunt / Fight Coordinator

Ryan Wilson, Drew Wilson, Jeff Pratner & Nick Yusi – Set Builders

Jenny Flack & Samatha Reynolds – Scenic Painter

Tuffet Schmelzle – Dialect Coach

Judith Borne – Publicist

Amelia Mulkey Anderson – Graphic Designer & Photographer

The new Ruskin Theatre is a wonderful space.  On location are two beautiful theatres and one doesn’t hear the airplanes flying overhead from the small airport across the street.  The theatre is a couple of buildings west of their old location and there is plenty of free parking.

Los Angeles needs its theatre arts and supporting The Ruskin Group is one way for the community to thrive with theatrical presentations. Just follow the link https://www.ruskingrouptheatre.com/ for additional information and please make a recurring donation.

A Little Night Music – Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, Book by Hugh Wheeler

  

By Joe Straw

In the twilight hours, where the sun never sets, a madness of sorts infects the wandering mind.   And in those hours, a heightened sense of smell and taste provokes tangential thoughts while the world slowly moves and changes in unimaginable ways.  

And in the twilight, perhaps at a dance, a progression of ideas feeds those first thoughts - to see it is to feel it; to feel it is to live it, to live it is to love it.  - Narrator

Santa Monica Collect Theatre Arts Department Spring 2026 presented A Little Night Music, music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, book by Hugh Wheeler, and directed by Perviz Sawoski through May 31, 2026.

The Liebesileder Singers: Mr. Linquist (Max Montgomery), Mrs. Nordstrom (Sophia Joy Martin-Straw), Mrs. Anderssen (Leah Hurst), Mr. Erlanson (Ziare Rene), and Mrs. Segstrom (Arabella Passeri) lead us in song, into the night, they are wandering about as omnipotent storytellers, infinitely enlightening, filling us in on the backstory and relaying the unspoken details that has transpired. They know the players and are willing to impart their information into the accepting minds to all willing participants.  

And as the curtain rises, the players in all their 1900’s finest, (wonderful costume design by Val Miller) waltz prophetic dreamlike about the room setting the stage with defined relationships that will take us through to the end of the musical.

Anne Egerman (Emily V. Blustajn) 18-year-old stepmother to Henrik Egerman (Noah Hosfeld) (not much younger), who has just returned home from schooling, teases Henrik in ways that go one step beyond a mother and stepson relationship.

Fredrik Egerman, a lawyer arrives shortly thereafter to tell his young wife they have tickets to see Desiree Armfeldt (Hannah Hayes) in a theatrical production near them.

Truth be told, the bubbly Anne is infatuated with Desiree and can’t wait to see her performance. And, as they retire for the afternoon Fredrik wonders out loud if they should consummate their 11-month marriage or take a nap. Anne tells Fredrik that she is not quite ready and as Fredrik naps he calls out the name of Desiree in his sleep much to Anne’s annoyance.

Later that night at the theatre and five minutes into the performance Anne, in a fit of jealously, rushes out of the theatre followed by Fredrik.  When they arrive home Henrik has unsuccessfully not consummated his relationship with the maid Petra (Sofia Koutouras) much to the slightly confused delightfulness of his father.

Moments later Fredrik tells Anne that he is going out for a walk but instead visits Desiree at the theatre.  He hasn’t seen her in fourteen years but happens to glance at a photograph of Desiree’s 13-year-old daughter Fredrika (Isabella Gutierrez) now living with her grandmother Madame Armfeldt (Sara Kaner).

Desiree is sympathetic to Frederik’s thoughts of the unconsummated marriage and decides to “help” Fredrik.  They are caught by Desiree’s “friend” Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm (Angel Salas), a dragoon who wants revenge against the man who has unfairly taken his mistress! And the count later tells his jealous wife Countess Charlotte Malcolm (Nina Halimi) all about it.

Taken as a whole director and choreographer Perviz Sawoski has directed a fascinating vision of this timeless 1973 classic from the spectacles of the home to the theatre, to the country house, the birch trees, (Beautifully designed by Tom Buderwitz.) and the wonderful idiosyncrasies of all the inhabitants living through the long midnight sun of a Sweden night.  It all just melds so seamlessly. It highlights the chaotic struggles of human life, the overwhelming feeling of making reparations, the true meaning to lovingly fix what was broken. Oh, the life of a Swede!

Hanna Hayes is exceptional as Desiree Armfeldt capturing the character life of an actor that may be at the pinnacle of her career.  Send In the Clowns is an emotional highlight in this show and her performance, richly voiced, deserved to be seen by everyone in Los Angeles.  It is a performance so enchanting it warms the coldest heart.  

Jeremy Ohta Lee is also incredible as Fredrik Egerman. There are the simple expressions from him that carry the day in this role.  There may be some things to add, the discovery of Fredrika, and the uncertainty of that discovery that provides an impulse for a stronger objective that pushes the character to win the day.  

Sara Kaner’s performance as Madame Armfeldt is also truly amazing.  Her voice is rich and satisfying filled with the remembrances of past lovers and the one that mistakenly got away.

Noah Hosfeld (Henrik Egerman) with his lugubrious presence and a bubbly Emily V Blustajn (Anne Egerman) have wonderful voices that carry them throughout the night. More could be made of their relationship as stepmother and stepson and the infatuation they have with each other that holds true from the first moment they appear together on stage.

Isabella Gutierrez (Fredrika Armnfeldt) has a delicious voice and one thing to add to her performance would be to find out who her father was. This gives the character a stronger objective and opens tremendous relationship possibilities with the other characters on stage.

Angel Salas (Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm) appears and hardly takes notice of a man, with his mistress, in his bathrobe. How odd. One is sure that this entrance must work given the manner he conducts himself in the rest of the musical. That aside Salas has a strong voice that easily projects in the backrow of this beautiful 258 seat theatre.  

Nina Halimi (Countess Charlotte Malcolm) is trying to find the tiger in the man that is her husband. That would have been fine if that had been her objective throughout. But she is given other things to do to get to that point and those other things are distractions that doesn’t bring back her husband. Her opening requires that want when her husband tells her that his mistress is not faithful. (Are Swedes okay with this?) She sits, morally discontent, having little or nothing to do when she should be physically finding ways keep her husband.  That aside, Nina has a lovely voice and there are a lot of other things that did work in this production.

Sofia Koutouras (Petra, Anne’s maid) delivers a haunting song The Miller’s Son.  It is a song that stays with the theatregoer long after the performance.  A song of a working-class girl, who dreams of having a better life but settles to marry to her station.

Damara Powell and Maryan Leon had some very amusing moments as the First Lady and the Second Lady.  Sando Sylla and Julie Duclos filled the night with their interpretations of the Sad Clowns.

Other players making significant contributions to the night were Tangbung Be (Frid), Caroline Duclos (Malia), Julie Duclos (Osa), and Carlo Barberi (Bertrand, Page).

The Main Stage is a beautiful theatre with an orchestra pit filled with wonderful musicians and under the direction of Conductor Gary Gray.  The sound was impeccable compliments to Helyx Belew, (Sound Design) and marvelous for each performance.

The following musicians performed in this production.

Violins: Coleen Coomber, Concertmaster, Madison Leinster, Yushen Sun

Violas: Loura Jesson, Greg Notiass, Corinne Olson, Matt Witmer

Cellos: Max Mueller, Kelly Picton, Camila Wilson

Bass: John Graves

Flute/Clarinet: Emily Senchuck

Bassoon: Leslie Lashinsky, Christin Webb

Percussion: Anthony Barbarotta

Piano/Celesta: Frank Basile

One witness the performances on three separate occasion and each performance got better.  There were problems in the beginning, and they were mostly problems with defined relationships that didn’t quite work, actors relating to the fourth wall rather than their counterpart, and moments that missed their mark.  But as the production grew the actors grew, hitting their moments and richly defining their characters.

Santa Monica Theatre Arts program is a viable necessity for art and life in Los Angeles, California.

Wild Son and Then Some the story of me and my dad by John Mese

  

By Joe Straw 

 

John Mese has a southern drawl and it’s noticeable when one speaks directly to him.  On stage it’s slightly different apart from a couple of sentences – “He said sumptin to me.” and “Idonknowwhy” a phrase which comes out as a one-word transfer of thoughts rather than four separate words and, one supposes, a trace of Cajun in his Baton Rouge accent. Naytheless, it is delightful and one more reason for venturing out on this Friday night.

Without going into too much detail, everyone loves a comeback story, the anticipation leading up to the moment when triumph overcomes adversity, and ends in the final resolve, the curtain call gathering with friends and family.   

Mese is dedicated master craftsman and a physically gifted actor. In fashionable southern charm, Mese entered the theatre and addressed the fourth wall (the audience). He shaded his eyes from the light, appreciatively took stock of the sold-out house, drew a rectangle, and took an imaginary photo.  And in a rarity, especially in Hollywood, he thanked everyone for coming and then started the show.

The one thing that leads home.

The stage at the Whitefire Theatre is sparsely set, a chair, a desk, and a flask of water. The work (or pleasure if you prefer) is to transform this empty darkened space into his home first in Los Angeles and then Baton Rouge. And then subsequently filling that space with the engrained images of those that were significantly loved and the ones that made all the difference.  

His vision starts in Los Angeles and slowly moves back in time to Baton Rouge remembering his dad and his family life, his inescapable journey, brought out from the wings if you will - to the place he now calls home.

And as the years passed; he found success in Hollywood and finally settles into a family life culminating in the moment alone on stage here tonight.  

In Los Angeles, Mese paints the picture of a 1934 Philco radio cabinet, now weathered by time and space, the one rather large item he squeezed into his car on the journey here, a solid weight, an anchor of remembrances, and one that reminds him of his father and more importantly, home.   

There are three things that ring a dramatic truth in this one-man play.   The first is the Philco radio cabinet, gutted now, but merriments from the south, and an object so loved that it plays a significant part in his journey.

The second is his father’s sailboats, they got bigger as he got older, possibly a metaphor of the incremental progression of time, growing up, and finally finishing, when sadly, all things must pass.

The third are the memories sometimes filled with obstinate gestures of youthful indiscretions. The ravages from non-saintly pursuits that could have drastically changed his career goals. And the subtle ways his father, a renowned town dentist, did help in the unimaginable ways he showed his love.

This is a tearful love story, lessons of unabashed love, of being a father, of doing fatherly things, and having a father who was willing to go the extra mile for his son.  

The night was filled with emotional moments dedicated to the power of his words and movement. There’s enough here to satiate the night absorbing those moments to one’s own life experiences. And, finally, one more reason to go to all the small theatres that Los Angeles has to offer.  

There may be more to add, a little more, if one must supply notes to this grand occasion. The first is a metaphorical dash of color against the wall of this black box. Baton Rouge needs that addition as it relates to his father.

The second is Jená and how that relationship plays deeply with his father. We move away from the father as the story moves away in another direction.  The day, at the door ponderously ajar, in his underwear, needs an emotional jolt that pulls his father in closer, defines the moment, and makes the relationship that much stronger.  

The sincerity of the play rings a dramatic truth, displayed by a great big hug on stage, that you are the man now, the father now, all while affectionately remembering the father who loved you without cause along the way.