Review: Back to School with TALES OF A FOURTH GRADE NOTHING and STONE SOUP at Playhouse Jr.

I rarely, if ever, see university shows. And I rarely, if ever, see children's theatre (despite having made a portion of my living writing theatre for a family audience). But when a friend tipped me off to see Point Park's double-feature of one acts for family audiences, I figured I'd give it a shot, and I'm glad I did. The two shows couldn't be more different, which is why they go so well together.

First, let's begin with Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, a play by Bruce Mason adapted from Judy Blume's classic children's book. Directed by David Cabot, the show is a sitcom-like series of vignettes depicting a year in the life of fourth-grader Peter Hatcher (Jacob Wasson) and his long-suffering mother (April Yanko), as they live with and clean up after the family's problem child, three-year-old Fudge (Kurt Kemper). The plot is more or less nonexistent, delivering a fast-paced series of misadventures in which everything nice that happens to Peter or Mrs. Hatcher is immediately and thoroughly ruined by the chaotic, mischievous-bordering-on-malevolent toddler in their midst. The story itself may be conventional, but Cabot's direction keeps it from feeling stodgy or monotonous by employing clever theatrical flourishes from time to time. Dream sequences pop out of nowhere, pre-recorded narration from Peter plays over moments he is involved in (shades of The Wonder Years or The Goldbergs here), and not only does the supporting cast juggle roles, they juggle the set and props. Watching Peter and his mother play catch with silverware, plates and even chairs during a scene change, as Peter's disembodied voice narrates a transition between scenes, is a welcome dash of the surreal in an otherwise grounded piece.

The supporting cast keep the show moving in their multiple roles, whether playing various parts onstage (Adam Rossi and Hanna Vogel, in particular, have the meatiest work) or making most of their appearances as offstage voices (Katherine Harkins, an onstage toddler, plays a raspy-voiced executive in voiceover). But there is no doubt that this show belongs to its leading trio. As ten-year-old Peter, Jacob Wasson strikes the delicate balance between believably seeming like a kid, and playing a kid who thinks he is much cooler and more mature than he is. It takes a truly dedicated comic actor to ride a tricycle and attempt to look like a ten-year-old's idea of "sexy badass" at the same time. April Yanko, as the boys' mother, has the burden of playing straight-man in the sometimes anarchic play, but brings a slightly absurd WASP dignity and propriety to the role, not unlike the work Jane Krakowski does under Tina Fey. Her gradual deflation as Fudge destroys everything he comes into contact with brings a relatable, low-key comic appeal that parents in the audience will no doubt relate to, and her chemistry with Wasson, particularly in the scene where both wind up slumped on the couch in identical exhaustion, is palpable.

But it's definitely Kurt Kemper's show. As Fudge, Kemper turns in a gleefully one-note performance with zero subtlety where none is needed. Swaying, gurning, giggling and wreaking havoc, he is less believable three-year-old and more fourth-grader's nightmare incarnate. The fact that he is easily the tallest, lankiest person in the cast only adds to the character's perverse appeal, as his much smaller mother occasionally has to piggyback him around. Kemper's Fudge feels like a Saturday Night Live character people would actually want to recur, week after week.

On the other end of the spectrum, across the building, Penelope Lindblom has directed Stone Soup, a musical by Allen Robertson and Damon Brown based (very, VERY loosely) on the folk tale of the same name. This may be the only musical of its kind: a one-act steampunk electro-pop musical inspired equally as much by Disney as dystopian "young adult novels." Go ahead, read that again. In an ambiguous time period, and equally ambiguous location, Alex (Bradley Johnson), ex-soldier and current world traveler, seeks a mysterious lost city of mechanized, neofuturist beauty. His search takes him instead to the Stone City, an impoverished dystopian wasteland surrounded on all sides by a thousand-foot stone wall. Under the rule of the autocratic Mayor Imperia (Bebe Tabickman), the people work day and night in the quarry to keep the walls strong, avoiding the monsters and dangerous outsiders the Mayor insists are waiting to break into the city. Only Nadia (Kristin Carmella), an inventor's daughter, dares to speak against the Mayor, and is punished for imprisonment. Of course, the blithe spirit Alex and the cynical Nadia meet, sparks fly, and they stand together to bring hope to a town in desperate need.

Bradley Johnson and Kristin Carmella make an appealing pair onstage; Johnson's high, light tenor and motor mouth give contrast to Carmella's drier sarcasm and strong belt. But this show belongs unequivocally to the supporting cast, in a series of grotesque and memorable performances. Stone Soup is unapologetically and delightfully weird, in a way that kids will like without ever being pandered to- if the show is derivative of anything, it's Tim Minchin's Matilda, which is similarly smart, strange, wordy, witty and PG-rated with kid and adult appeal. Some of this appeal comes from clever but oddball pop-cultural references: Tabickman's haughty Mayor Imperia is a seeming amalgamation of every dystopian female aristocrat figure from Dolores Umbridge to Effie Trinket; her assistant, Tadd (Nick Black) inexplicably dresses like Jareth the Goblin King but speaks in the strangled French of Herve Villechaize on Fantasy Island. But most of the show is striking its own strange notes, particularly the avaricious and xenophobic city council of a one-eyed architect (Neal Bechman), a goggled, flightless aviatrix (Danielle Cohen) and a narcoleptic banker (Gabe Reed). These characters are, naturally, nicknamed Winkin, Blinkin and Nod, and their desperate, almost manic desire to keep the strangers out and the money in has a foil in the impoverished Mama Huge (Zane Travis in a gently understated drag role), who has more food than anyone else in the city, but can't spare any. This is because Mama is literally crawling with babies and children, strapped to her back and in her arms and following her in wagons (puppeteered by the multi-talented ensemble).

The inventive score by Allen Robertson ties itself together more with a cohesive orchestration based on guitars and electronica than by one genre of music. Numbers tend towards techno-infused rock and pop primarily, but diverge into indie pop, Brechtian cabaret, Latin dance and even a rapid-fire Danny Elfman pastiche for the city council. With Camille Rolla's music direction and Brittany Pent's choreography, the show remains in constant motion. Almost too constant, in fact- the story moves so fast, with almost as many musical numbers as a full-length musical, that it feels a little rushed, especially at the end. I wouldn't be surprised if this was the one-act Theatre for Young Audiences version of a full-length show.

Seeing both plays in one day made for an interesting and inspiring experience, especially for a writer such as myself. If the kids of 2016 are getting this wide a variety of live theatre entertainment, there's hope yet that they'll grow up and remain involved with the theatre as creators, performers and consumers. And isn't that the dream?

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