Robert Encila-Celdran

Aaron Cammack, an Arizona actor, has navigated a multitude of personal setbacks, proving his character in a career that demands inexorable resilience. The newly minted, 2024-2025 Resident Artist at Arizona Theatre Company treads the boards on stages big and small. Aaron stays sharp and ready, undertaking everything from experimental two-handers in a 90-seat house to full-blown classic musicals, TV, and feature films. His prodigious talent is matched by a consummate focus on his craft. It's only a matter of time before he sets foot on a Broadway stage.

I've just highlighted a long list deserving of recognition, if for no other reason than to remind audiences of the invisible force that fuels this pre-eminent theatre department. I'm aware of the unresolved public trauma caused by the university's decision to discontinue the program. Intentional or not, SWEENEY is the apt choice; the metaphor of slitting one's throat resonates with an aggrieved following, for that's what it must feel like to lose a vital artistic resource. And that, my good friends, is the real tragedy.

To his credit, Klugheit sees the controversy as a chance to engage an otherwise piercing inquiry into our cultural obsession with physical beauty. REASONS TO BE PRETTY paints an unflinching portrait of seemingly reasonable Americans in emotional crisis -- socially well-adjusted folks who suffer from profound insecurity and power struggles. 

This weekend, Tucsonans have the privilege of witnessing the site through the lens of a master storyteller. The interview uncovers the inspiration, challenges, and profound insights that shaped Elaine's remarkable play. Renowned for her impressive repertoire that captures the emotional essence of culture and history, Elaine charts the play's development while keeping the pulse on the spiritual underpinning of her work.

In this interview, we have the privilege of evoking Greg Pierotti's insights. He is a University of Arizona Theatre professor, a distinguished artist, and the co-author of THE LARAMIE PROJECT, which he now directs at the university. The script evolved from his work with Moisés Kaufman and the renowned Tectonic Theater Project in New York City. The company is best known for developing new plays using 'Moment Work,' a trademarked playwriting method that employs rigorous research and collaboration in a laboratory environment. The process is a significant part of Pierotti's work, which resides at the intersection of theater and anthropology.

Subversive and riveting, David Ives's clever adaptation of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's novella titillates and shocks, delving into mythology while blurring the line between the divine and the pedestrian. In channeling Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, Ives's stab at foreplay is piquant and dangerous. Should the playwright continue to craft erotic content, he could secure a place among the genre-defining authors alongside Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin.

As the Scoundrel and Scamp Theatre kicks off its seventh season, artistic director Bryan Falçon takes a calculated risk with an unknown opener. No one knows what it is, not even him, because the material does not yet exist.

Leave it to Mark Klugheit to push the envelope in matters of theater programming. Rarely deterred by criticism for producing plays deemed too risky or out of bounds, he remains invested in cultivating candid discussions on staging exceptional works otherwise known for extreme shock value. 

The Wetzels are earnest in their mission to foster innovation and inclusion. SFCT aims to specialize in original works and to collaborate with local artists to create 'quality productions to inspire and uplift' the Tucson community. Like every 'itinerant' theater company across the country, SFCT must now rely on the stability of a partner institution with the physical foundation to serve its needs. At St. Francis, it's a classic win-win affair for two deserving entities.

Well, Georgia is back. Flamboyant as ever, she blazes a familiar trail like a captive hedonist spoiling for a bog splurge. To an anxious audience, there's nothing like a good dose of sassy uproar to nurse grievances and bear the cost of delayed gratification.

All of these theaters had programming that was - you know, sort of your tent poles on the mainstage, your occasional blockbuster musical. On the second stage, there was riskier work, new work being developed that might not appeal to a 700-seat audience. I thought that was incredible - you're doing these blockbuster Broadway musicals, the best of the best plays, and then new work that is exciting and thrilling. And that sort of became part of my DNA as I was thinking about directing.

Mimi Kennedy renders an imperious and brassy Pru Payne (her public moniker). She's a renowned intellectual, feared for her trenchant criticism and scathing takedowns of mediocre aspirations (a faint redolence of critic Michiko Kakutani's public feuds with John Updike and Norman Mailer et al). Pru exists in the lofty penthouse of her intellect. She deflects the impulse to linger in the subterranean region of emotions -- until she loses her bearing and meets Gus Cudahy.

Teale's dramatic conceit - a seamless juxtaposition of present reality and childhood memories - makes for an engaging theatrical form that justifies the Brontës' epic narrative.

Staging choices notwithstanding, Winding Road's production is a moving personal encounter. It recalls the existential confrontation we tend to ignore until we come of age: Do we choose love or fear? What happens if we compromise our mission for comfort and security? The proverbial clock nears midnight -- what becomes of me?

For the record, director Chanel Bragg didn't have to secure a movie star to manifest a compelling production of her own. She features a charismatic powerhouse in Lillie Richardson, who submits a resounding performance as the flamboyant matriarch. Ms. Richardson strides with regal confidence and speaks with a stately optimism that defies her fear of an austere future. Amanda has conjured traditional perceptions of an imperious monster, but Lillie Richardson plays against that tendency, showing us an overzealous mother who only wants the best for her children. Indeed she fluctuates between illusion and reality, and in Richardson, we see Amanda's inability to distinguish them as a tragedy.

American regional theaters have seen significant changes since the pandemic began. Reeling from a revenue loss of more than $3 billion since the Covid shutdown (SMU Data Arts), the industry has struggled to establish a new normal, with many redefining their programming in the apprehension of a vague future.

So here we are with a loud reminder of our mortal limits - not to mention the 'acceptable' limits of a public joke and a brazen sexual encounter - as Ms. Feiffer regards our presumed taboos with a shrewd riposte. I'm reminded of H.G. Wells' famous denouncement of the 'irreverent laugh,' man's presumed default from the paucity of insight into the natural order of things. Yet, in the playwright's judgment, irreverence is a natural byproduct of bottled outrage. There's no place in a sane world to land a good joke about terminal cancer - but now and then, wisdom takes the form of a middle finger, and with that comes a wink of personal advantage. Halley Feiffer attempts to reveal the unpredictable guffaw on the other side of grief; you have to face the uglies head-on, is all.

It's quintessential Lauren Gunderson and Margot Melcon, in which it is that highly stylized, laugh-out-loud comedy, undercut with heart and passion and vulnerability. And strong female characters who are smashing the patriarchy and choosing their own futures. Women who are finding and re-defining themselves. Which is what I've always loved about Lauren's writing.