Giordana Segneri

In New York, the show is enjoying a successful Off-Broadway revival at another theater, and in Columbia, Rep Stage is celebrating the production's 54th anniversary (as of May 3) with a sweet, whimsical production that is every bit as enchanting as the one that swept 13-year-old me off my feet.

The creepily campy, gruesomely goofy premise of the 1960s classic Little Shop of Horrors begs audiences to leave their disbelief at the door and come along on a wacky ride requiring runaway imagination. The Maryland Institute College of Art's student-run Rivals of the West Theatre Co. is an ideal team to tackle this big story with a small-ish cast, as the fine arts students have endowed the production with their outstanding creativity, evident in the stunning set design and masterful puppetry.

What could be more Baltimore than a tribute to Edgar Allan Poe? And the Iron Crow Theatre Co. does it with a delightfully queer spin that, true to the company's form, is artistic, entertaining and insightful.

I don't believe I ever read Robert Louis Stevenson's Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and while it's certainly not a children's story, it's the type of classic almost-fable, featuring archetypical characters-much like Dorian Gray or Frankenstein-that permeates the imagination of youth. So I knew, more or less, what would unfold onstage at the Vagabond Players' production of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. But what I didn't expect was such a profound drama; such a sleek, sexy interpretation; or such a lack of camp. And while the story is firmly planted in 1883 London, the production quality is thoroughly modern.

Bernard, a dashing American living in Paris, chooses his fiancees carefully: They're all-yes, all three-air hostesses, as they were called in the bon vivant '60s, when Boeing-Boeing takes place, and their names all begin with G. The better to ensure no embarrassing mix-ups. But leave it French playwright Marc Camoletti to ensure myriad mix-ups that make for a masterful farce in Fells Point Corner Theatre's uproarious and entertaining adaptation of his 1962 play.

Beautifully written by local-ish playwright Liz Maestri, Fallbeil examines fear, and humans' reaction to it, from countless perspectives. It's about sisters' fear of losing their brothers, who once supported and sustained them; it's about the fear of making life-altering decisions and of fighting for or letting go of long-held beliefs; and, perhaps most poignantly, it's about the fear of forgetting and of being forgotten.

No one writes theater like the Ancient Greeks; after all, they invented it (at least the western variety). I was reminded of this once again as I found myself lost in the high drama of Glass Mind Theatre's adaptation of Antigone, one of Sophocles' three plays revolving around Oedipus (he of psychological complex fame), king of Thebes, who unknowingly killed his father and then married his mother. And it only gets better from there.

Green Day lead singer Billie Joe Armstrong, who wrote this rock opera's lyrics, and his punk rock band that created its unstoppably vibrant music weren't going for "comfortable." They were aiming, along with co-creator and director Michael Mayer (who picked up a Tony for his direction of Spring Awakening), to offer a musical production that breaks ground for its in-your-face punk rock approach to storytelling and its entirely unapologetic tale of sex, drugs and (punk) rock n' roll. And while there's lots of all of the above-and all very well done-there's not so much in the way of a plot with any depth.

She's all legs, has a blazing bouffant hairdo and an incredible pair of … lungs. For one night only, Sunrize Highway shines on stage in Sunrize: The Musical at Creative Alliance, Friday, April 26. Highway (also known as Joseph Ritsch, associate artistic director at Baltimore's Iron Crow Theatre Co.) pays homage to the great divas of contemporary musical theater, dappling it all with "whimsical reflections, winsome musings, sage advice and insightful showbiz stories." Special guests from Baltimore's boylesque, drag king and vaudeville scenes will open the performance.

Raw. Unadulterated. Unfiltered. Rich and ragged. Daniel Talbott's Slipping explores the jagged corners of adolescence-the ones that usually go unexplored or are polished smooth by the propriety of adulthood-and brings with it some light and, eventually, a good deal of hope. Unblinkingly, it faces the reality of survival, because that's what it is, in a society that still has a long way to go toward accepting queer youth, or queer anything. It unveils the deep scars, the blood and bruises, the barren wastelands of denial and disgust. But it also celebrates the tenderness of self-realization and wide-eyed discovery.

Now, 30 years (three decades!) later, Flashdance--The Musical is back to remind us of the raw spirit, sparkly promise and (possibly drug-enhanced) energy of that bubble gum-laden, neon-hued era when innocence was much more innocent and people actually believed that dancing could save the world. Except this, the original U.S. national touring production (note that it has not yet made it to Broadway), has toned down the horrific '80s fashion faux pas and added a bit more 21st-century sophistication.

While the musical production-a collaborative effort between the Strand Theater Co. and StillPointe Theatre Initiative-tackles such weighty issues as racism, sexism, feminism and even terrorism, it is by no means a somber performance; to the contrary, it is jubilant, joyous, soulful and energizing, and the enormous (at least for this space), 12-actor cast shakes, shimmies and grooves along to the music of a five-piece live band through Childs' delightful lyrics and hilarious script, reminding us (and perhaps reminding herself) not to take things too seriously.

I went through a fairly intense Agatha Christie phase before I hit double digits. I read her mysteries rabidly, watched all the old movies and even, thanks to a mother who was happy to feed both my whodunit and theater-going habits, saw The Mousetrap in London's West End at the ripe old age of 10. I even remember the Laura Ashley dress I wore to the show. I did not, however, remember the ending, which made for a blissfully ignorant repeat performance on my part as I sat in the audience at The Vagabond Players for its rendition of one of Dame Christie's finest.

The joy of watching a playwright perform her own piece comes from the insight and the passion she brings to it. Especially when the playwright perceives the performance-the entire production, really-as "a chance to make fun of myself," as Susan McCully describes Inexcusable Fantasies, her whip-smart romp through absurdly outrageous queer scenarios that everyone knows should be daydreamed and neither seen nor heard.

Through a series of vignettes, For That Which Returns (performed at Baltimore Theatre Project) explores the constantly shifting relationship of mother and daughter, unraveling how their reliance on and need for each other never wane despite their roles often flip-flopping as they age.

As the last two pandas on earth, Gwo Gwo and Marion intrinsically know their task is to repopulate their species, but when mating season rolls around, they encounter a small hitch: Chester the crocodile has got his eyes on Gwo Gwo, who-despite all his practicing-can't seem to get a hang of baby-panda creation and finds himself increasingly distracted by that sly and charming croc.

A typographer, a geographer and a stenographer sit down at a bar. There's no punch line to be found in Iron Crow Theatre Co.'s production of Adam Bock's The Typographer's Dream, but rather an unveiling of personalities and of how so often what we do is inseparable from who we are.

There's nothing more personal than theater in the round, especially when it's on such an intimate scale as that at Spotlighters Theatre where there's a maximum of three rows of seating on each side. And it seems a fitting way to get to know Dolly Gallagher Levi, star of Hello, Dolly!, since her greatest joy is getting to know you-in the hopes of making a little money off of what she's figured out.

In his notes about the play, director Steven J. Satta-Fleming writes that The Soldier Dreams "is no more a play about AIDS than The Wizard of Oz is the story of a cyclone," and it's interesting how AIDS and homosexuality, while important catalysts, are both omnipresent and barely there in this beautiful, sad, hilarious, heartwarming offering that Iron Crow Theatre doesn't just produce but conquers.

With Godspell enjoying a renaissance in popularity following its recent revival on Broadway, it seems everyone wants in on the fun. And that's the beauty of Godspell-it's an occasion to rejoice, to delight in the irreverent retelling of the parables in the Gospel according to Matthew, to feel good about faith-whether you share this particular set of tenets or not-and, well, to jump around in your seat and rock out along with Jesus.