Two Weekends in September

Good kitty.

Outdoor Theater of a Different Kind

The remnants of this late season has included bouts of strong summer storms, bringing down trees and flooding cities. So is the harbinger of catastrophic climate change. And yet, we get out. To enjoy what the urban outdoors has to offer, because we know the days are drawing far too short and sometimes it snows in September.

Last weekend, I took a three hour stroll through the streets of Cleveland with two hundred of my closest friends, attending Micro Theater CLE: Tremont Reloaded. And what I witnessed was a cavalcade of performances:

A short play about a fork in the road set in a dead end street, a multimedia performance about childhood trauma executed in an attic, a laconic chain-smoking improviser, lazing on a chaise lounge in someone’s driveway, and so much more!

And as usual, I provided the cat poop in the sandbox.

To be sure, I received so many positive marks about my brief solilokitty ("Stray") which was a surprise to those who were prepared to enjoy a series of silly stories told by dopey dogs. Then this feline arrived (performed with cat-like reflexes by the always adorable Katelyn Cornelius) to unwind an inscrutable saga about their transition from feral stray to pampered rescue cat.

Folks were moved, it stuck with them, which is only natural. Cats have depth. Dogs are dumb.

Molded From the Clay

For three seasons now, Cleveland playwright and impresario Stuart Hoffman has produced a series of creepy plays in September (Advent for spooky season) at Wizbang! in Cleveland Heights. If you have never been, Wizbang is homebase for circus performers Pinch & Squeal (Jason and Danielle Tilk) offering offbeat entertainments and clever concoctions in intimate digs festooned with fabulous frippery.

This year, Hoffman opened his roster of supernatural stories to include those by other playwrights with Out of the Kiln: When Your Past Haunts You, and so on Friday evening our senses were cooled by unnatural infestations, comic tales of torture, playful poltergeists, and a literal throwing of hands.

The night concluded with a rendition of “The Hearse Song” delightfully choreographed by Millie Sherin which was unsettlingly sexy.

Mike Frye, Mindy Herman, Keith Kornajcik 

Back to the Shop

If last week’s trek through Tremont was summer’s curtain call, participating in Pandemonium last night was opening night for fall.

Cleveland Public Theatre’s annual gala is an enormous party, this year celebrating the extensive renovation of the (former) Russian Orthodox Church space which is now fully accessible.

We were on the other side of the campus, the folks from Micro Theater CLE provided a stage to present a cycle of 10 minute plays. The stage was located outside the scene shop; at the first Pandemonium, over twenty years ago, I had produced a series of Neo-Futurist plays inside the scene shop for audiences seated inside the freight elevator, arriving every fifteen minutes.

I done lots of Pandemonium.

My offering this evening was Lombardo (also directed by Millie Sherin!) in which a character-free young man from LIFE interviews Guy Lombardo about his switch from radio to TV for his New Year’s Eve broadcast. A short play meant to take the piss out of bad biographic plays, I made a point not to include any data I couldn’t find on Wikipedia.

The scene was stolen by Mindy Herman as Lombardo’s wasted wife Lillibell. One of my colleagues observed, “I always love your woman characters,” which is funny because Lillibell is a parody of all those poorly drawn female characters.

Speeches were made, performances were witnessed, the massive, tented dance floor opened just as the clouds did, and I was in bed by eleven.

Welcome, autumn!

Trudeau & Doonesbury: A Biography: The Cartoonist Who Turned the News Into Art (book)

Garretson “Garry” Beekman Trudeau (b. 1948) is the single greatest influence on my life as a writer. There have been others who have inspired me in my work, from William Shakespeare to George Bernard Shaw to Annie Baker, and also from Charles Schulz to Harvey Pekar to Alison Bechdel. Because comic strip artists have had as much of an impact on my life as any playwright.

For example, John “Derf” Backderf just released The Dissidents, his first graphic novel since the epic Kent State (2020) and this is a work no less expansive in scope, for which its creator has been doggedly journalistic in his pursuit of historic accuracy. In this case the events are so far in the past (a century!) he has had to rely entirely – I assume – upon the written record.

I’ve read it, and like Kent State or My Friend Dahmer, it should be added to the long list of recommended (and also then probably censored) reading for high school students across the nation. It’s brilliant, it’s timely, it’s important.

But what about this Trudeau guy? He was the creator of Doonesbury, and in the late 1970s, while my preadolescent friends were getting a fantastic, exaggerated and exploitative history of Vietnam watching films like Apocalypse Now and The Deer Hunter on cable teevee, I was desperately consuming the history of the war and the entire “Me” decade by scraping up every single trade Holt, Rinehart and Winston paperback I could get my hands on at Baluk’s bookstore in Westlake.

A prized possession.

His comic strips were remarkable at the time because of the so-called political content. Sure. At that time, the comic pages were reserved for silly jokes about beleaguered husbands and shrewish wives. The war and the Nixon administration had been reserved for the editorial page, but when Trudeau was recruited (due to his work producing the strip Bull Tales for a Yale publication) to create a comic for daily syndication, he became the first to address contemporary issues – sex, drugs and the war – in the daily comics.

I mean, he wasn’t. He was preceded by Walt Kelly (Pogo) and Al Capp (Lil’ Abner) and others, but he was the first BABY BOOMER to do so, and to be so literal about it. The timing was not remarkable, it was inevitable. It could have been someone else, fortunately it was Trudeau.

Because of his wit. His very dry wit. Decades later, I would be taken to task for my work in the Ohio University paper The Post because I just wasn’t funny. But like so many other would-be college paper cartoonists, I was simply emulating the style of Doonesbury, how the punchline was usually the second to last line, only to be undercut by the deadpan reaction.

Doonesbury, October 26, 1970

And it is this deadpan, dry reaction to humor that has led people to hate and fear me in everyday conversation. And it is the same kind of dialogue I have always incorporated into my plays. This summer I read Trudeau & Doonesbury: The Cartoonist Who Turned the News Into Art by Joshua Kendall, the first authorized biography of G.B. Trudeau, and one of the first delightful things I learned was that, as a child, the future Pulitzer Prize winning cartoonist was an aspiring impresario.

At the age of eight, he waxed entrepreneurial, establishing the Acting Corporation, which marketed and produced his own plays in the family’s home.

“We transformed the basement into a makeshift theater, with bunk beds as our balcony," [Trudeau] says. "My mother had red curtains installed as a Christmas present … I jerry-rigged the most dangerous lighting board imaginable, and I almost burned the house down. I also built sets from canvas flats. Our troupe comprised relatives and neighborhood kids.

“I was a little dictator who controlled all the elements. I wrote and directed the plays, composed the music, designed the sets and costumes, oversaw makeup, props, etc." (pp. 15-16)

He was a theater producer who became a cartoonist, I was a cartoonist who became a theater producer. And this should not be a surprise. Because they have so much in common. While I had entertained notions of playwriting in high school, I had no idea how or where to begin. Creating the strip Breaking Point my sophomore year in college, I was constantly thinking about and writing dialogue and action (essentially, scripts) for a cast of fictional cartoon characters which I would then draft and have published for an audience.

Breaking Point, May 27, 1988

Trudeau did something surprising, but necessary, when he chose to take a sabbatical in 1983, stepping away from the drawing board to rethink the strip. It’s all cool that Hi and Lois, Blondie and Dagwood, and the Peanuts kids never age, but Michael, Boopsie, Mark, Zonker, B.D. and the rest were ostensibly Baby Boomers – all of whom were for some reason still undergrads in the early 1980s. That had to change if the strip was to remain relevant.

However, it was a working vacation, as Trudeau returned to his first love – the theater. He partnered with Elizabeth Swados (Runaways) to create Doonesbury: A Musical Comedy which opened at the Biltmore Theatre in late 1983. It wasn’t a sensation (Frank Rich called it “pleasant”) but even if it were, it’s intentionally dated, set squarely in that interregnum between the queasy late 1970s and the go-go 1980s. I’ve never heard of anyone else producing it. But do I have the original cast recording on vinyl? Yes, I do. Do I have it on CD? Yes, again. I am partial to the opening track (“Graduation”) and Michael’s gentle attempt to court his girlfriend J.J. (“Get Together”).

 
The most significant result of this endeavor was actually a downscale, downtown spin-off (a friendlier locale for such things) a cabaret in which to skewer Reagan era policies on a rotating basis. This was a format more in line with the daily criticism Trudeau was conducting, anyway.

Trudeau and Swados undertook a second theatrical collaboration … "Rap Master Ronnie," a one-hour "partisan revue"... which premiered at the Village Gate in the fall of 1984. Frank Rich was more kindly disposed to this venture, praising Trudeau's "ingenious lyrics, the bristling polemical wisecracks and a sparkling cast."

Trudeau (said), “With 'Doonesbury? Liz (Swados) played in my world— a mainstream Broadway musical with lovable characters. But with Rap Master Ronnie, a downtown political revue with complicated characters, I was in Lizworld. I came to prefer the latter, scrambling for money and audiences, huddling behind the bar at the Village Gate, reworking numbers on the spot, the kind of on-the-fly theater Liz was so brilliant at." (p. 215)

I can dig it. I love those things, too.

The Dissidents: Autocrats! Vigilantes! Communists! And Cartoonists! By John Derf Backderf (Abrams Books) is now available in hardcover.

How I Am Spending This Fall (2026)

Last week there was another big storm that brought down trees on both Mayfield and Taylor roads, cutting power to my neighborhood. I had a brief Zoom rehearsal schedule and drove to a different part of town to find bars to participate.

Samantha Cocco is directing Katelyn Cornelius in my monologue Stray which will be presented as part of the Monodogologues for Micro Theater CLE’s Tremont Reloaded which will take place this Friday and Saturday nights.

The fall has become surprisingly full, and Micro Theater CLE has been a big part of that. They are not only producing the only cat piece in a selection of monologues about dogs (Sam calls Stray a “solilokitty” and I am down with that) but also a performance of Lombardo at Cleveland Public Theatre’s Pandemonium the week following.

The theme for Pandemonium this year is “Under Construction” which put me in mind of this taut and gritty look at a man at the crossroads, taking the risk of his life and succeeding against all odds. Just kidding, it’s an acidic satire of trite formulaic theatrical biographs. I’m going to stick my neck out here and share that Lombardo is one of my own scripts that I choose to read from time to time just to make myself laugh.

There are also two productions in October. Tickets are now on sale for I Hate This (a play without the baby): The Silver Collection a fund raiser for the Preeclampsia Foundation, an intimate house performance (see previous blog post for complete details) and my first opportunity to perform for a live audience in a couple of years. I know folks worry about the subject matter, but it’s a story I love telling. Contact me directly to make your reservation.

Cole Tarantowski, Rachel Gold
"The Right Room"
Photo by Daren Stahl

The month concludes with The Right Room, presented as part of the Verum Project series at Convergence-Continuum. When originally presented in an actual hotel room for the BorderLight Festival in 2025, it became the most talked about show that virtually no one saw. It’s funny to think that con-con, which features one of the smallest professional spaces in Cleveland, presents an opportunity for so many more people to see this show. Rehearsals begin soon, and I am so excited to share this, and all of these pieces, with audiences this season.

• Micro Theater: presents Tremont Reloaded, September 11 & 12, 2026
• Cleveland Public Theatre presents Pandemonium: Under Construction, September 19, 2026
• I Hate This (a play without the baby): The Silver Collection, October 14 - 18, 2026
• Convergence-Continuum presents The Right Room at the Liminis, October 29 - 31, 2026

I Hate This (The Silver Collection)

Photo by Anthony Gray Photography

Since 2002, I have performed I Hate This, live and in-person, forty-four times. Is that a lot? I was put into the company of A Christmas Carol in 2024 and over the course of four weeks I put in twenty-nine performances.

A long time ago, I realized this was a piece I would return to for the rest of my life, whether I wanted to or not. But how? I mean, it’s supposed to be a personal piece of storytelling, but the subject matter, stillbirth, is challenging. I’m not afraid of it, the audience is. I cannot blame them.

And how do I make reproducing the play relevant? How do I tell it again, in a manner that is honest, that isn’t just a reproduction of the original? To tell this story so that it is helpful, edifying (edify: instruct or improve) and also entertaining? That attending is not a chore, but a worthwhile experience? And might I suggest, an enjoyable evening?

Every five years since the birth of our first child, I have been able to retell the story in different ways. In 2006 we broadcast a radio drama. In 2011, I paired the piece with another solo performance. In 2016, I had a one night only performance with a few new adjustments. And in 2021 we created the film.

For this year, the 25th birth anniversary of our first child, and to commemorate Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month (October) I will be embarking upon a project I have been desiring to create for years – a house performance.

I Hate This (The Silver Collection) will feature:

• An intimate performance for an audience of ten (10) members only, each evening. 
• A revised, updated text, to reflect the time that has passed. 
• An open bar and homemade refreshments 
• 10% of the admission will go to the Preeclampsia Foundation, whose mission is to “improve the outcomes of hypertensive disorders of pregnancy by educating, supporting and engaging the community, improving healthcare practices, and accelerating research.”

I will be reaching out to interested audience members in September. Please drop a note in the comments if you would like me to contact you.

Forget About Me (The Breakfast Club Play) (staged reading)

Before the summer gets away from me completely, I wanted to reflect upon one of the highlights; a live staged reading of Forget About Me (The Breakfast Club Play) produced in Westlake and Canton on Saturday, June 13 by our friends at Seat of the Pants productions.

Not too long ago, “live stage reading” would be redundant. But I had a virtual reading of this script a few years ago, and while that one was also well produced and performed, I could not hear the audience. Oh. Does it make a difference to hear them.

Under the outstanding and thoughtful direction of Katherine Nash, actors Jeannine Gaskin and Diwe Augustin-Glave were tremendous as Moms and Dots, as we returned to the quarantine (for the moment) to address isolation, anxiety, and the modern generation gap.

And what did I hear? A lot of laughs, and also groans, sympathetic sounds, and one very audible FUCK during a tense silence right before one of the characters also says, “Fuck.” I took that as a win.

I also didn’t hear a laugh that I had expected, which falls shortly after one of the most upsetting moments in the piece. I was surprised, but I shouldn’t have been. I should be grateful. It means people cared. I learned so much, from everyone. There will be changes, but now I know it comes together.

I’m working on a new script, an adaptation, for which I created a synopsis of the novel upon which it will be based. And it occurs to me that I could take that synopsis, feed it into any so-called “artificial intelligence” plagiarism machine and have created to my specifications a new (you couldn’t call it original) two act play, in moments. Just knowing that is demoralizing.

However, I often re-read my own work – for pleasure. I can surprise myself, I make myself laugh. And on those occasions when they are produced for an audience, and they laugh. Or, you know, suddenly blurt, “FUCK.” Well, I’d like to see the billionaires try to take that from me.

Many additional and deeply felt thanks to project producer Michael Glavan, and SOTP artistic director Craig Joseph.

See also: "Demented and Sad, But Social"

On Adaptation (revisited)

The Odyssey (2026)
Directed by Christopher Nolan

As we drove across the country this summer, for our annual visit to Maine, my wife made plans to spend the night in Albany, arriving in time to catch a screening of Christopher Nolan’s adaptation of The Odyssey. She taught that poem to first year high school students for several seasons, so she is quite familiar with the work, while I am not. But I like Nolan, the cast is (as the kids say) stacked, and I was looking forward to it.

Not only did I enjoy the film, I was moved. Like, seriously, when was the last time I was made to deeply feel something, watching a movie? I experienced a deep melancholy, a feeling of great loss. I was troubled. I still am. I’ve been thinking about it for two weeks.

And the memes are killing me, particularly those that focus on Robert Pattinson.

Those trolls who were prepared to bury it at the box office may have been excited to learn that Emily Wilson, scholar and recent translator of a best-selling version of The Odyssey also hates it, but for diametrically opposing reasons. They hate that it has a diverse cast, she says it isn’t diverse enough. They say it has a “woke” message, she says it has no message at all.

Anyway, it’s a fucking blockbuster, on track to break one billion in global box office on its third weekend in theaters. What are ya gonna do?

Adaptations are a puzzle, transforming a piece from one medium to another. What to keep, what to lose, what to emphasize, what to ignore. And what to outright change – and that’s certainly going to be contentious to someone.

Nosferatu by Jim Shepard (1998)

This summer I have been reading Nosferatu, Jim Shepard’s 1998 novel about German film director F.W. Murnau. Drawing from historic record, it is fiction told (largely) from Murnau’s first person perspective, about his upbringing, his time as a pilot in World War One, and becoming the celebrated director of Nosferatu, The Last Man and Tabu. It is also the story of one man’s struggles with passion and guilt in a time when his relationships were literally a crime.

Adapting Bram Stoker’s supernatural saga Dracula into a visual medium to create Nosferatu at the nascence of the motion picture era was an artistic challenge, and several of Murnau’s experiments with light and shadow are iconic while other seemingly clever tricks with slower frame rates and reverse exposure today seem a bit silly, taking the edge off Max Schreck’s horrifying performance as the titular character.

In Shepard’s novel, the director laments to his journal the static nature of the camera – early cameras were huge and heavy – and how he wished it could move. In a later film, The Last Man (also known as The Last Laugh) Murnau either pioneered or pushed forward many schemes to get the camera to do just that; to pan, to track, the zoom, to swing, even. If those methods had been available to him in 1921, who knows how much more affecting his vampire film may have been.

The Machine Stops (2026)

Last week (still on vacation) a few of us headed out to see a local theater production. The day before, the wife and I took a wrong turn through a village and I was surprised to see a large banner advertising a stage adaptation of The Machine Stops, the early 20th century science fiction short story with which I have a long personal history, producing a radio drama of Eric Coble's stage adaptation for our NPR affiliate, and even making reference to it in And Then You Die.

Sticking out of the program was a letter-size page of director's notes explaining his thoughts about the story and how this production came into being. Hot take? Don’t do this. Telling people what to think about the thing they are about to see just before they see it is never a good idea.

That's what your blog is for.  

Reading it over – after the performance – did clear up a few questions. It was originally a thirty-five minute adaptation, rich with movement and sound and style and passion, performed by high school students, created for a high school theater festival. The costumes, lighting, the ensemble choreography were all very effective in telling E.M. Forster’s classic tale of a future when mankind has chosen to live underground, apart from one another, all of their necessities served by the Machine. And it was all right there in this production – especially powerful were the constant droning sounds of the Machine, created entirely by the voices of the ensemble, making their sudden absence all the more startling when, well. Spoiler alert. The Machine Stops.

Unfortunately (checks director’s notes) in order to serve an adult audience, and to expand the slight original material to an hour, the production had been expanded to include laborsome tangential stories meant to incorporate modern relevance, to wit; opinions about Covid, quarantine, and Liberal government overreach.

Really, I want you to imagine enjoying a seamless and well-executed multidisciplinary performance that comes to an abrupt stop every ten minutes so that company members in street clothes can drag a chair and a table onto a well-designed set, and perform seemingly unrelated and obvious agitprop under a nondescript spot before moving on. It’s crazy.

I bet the original high school version went over like gangbusters, and those young people deserved it.

There have been several summers when I would be here, on vacation, and also using that time to conduct research for plays. One year I was reading books on the Globe Theatre, and the voyage of the Sea Venture and H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine. Another, it was all about the Lusitania, the “Great Silence” and even more about World War One. Those were for assignments, or commissions, what have you. Most of the adaptations.

This summer I have been reading and re-reading a certain novel, and like The Machine Stops, it is another work of early 20th century science fiction. This one was, shortly after it was written, adapted into a classic silent film, one which I would like to adapt into a stage play. 

And there are perils in adapting early science fiction: Do you play it straight, which (depending on the work) may seem dated, and lack the desired sense of immediacy? Do you entirely update it, as many modern films have done (see: Spielberg's War of the Worlds or Will Smith in I, Robot) and become something entirely other than what fans of the work are expecting? And how much do you push your idea of what the message of the story may be, to the alienation of certain audiences, as with The Odyssey, or this local production of The Machine Stops?

It is a voyage upon which I look forward to embarking.

See also: On Adaptation (2011)

Wrap-Up | BorderLight 2026

Mike Frye

BorderLight 2026 has closed. I had gotten myself a “Binge on Fringe” pass so that I could make plentiful reservations without thinking about the cost each time. No, I didn’t max out the pass, but that’s fine. Let's call it a donation.

Saturday I made the error of booking some shows back-to-back, I don’t recommend it. You fret about how long the show you are watching will go over and then run the risk of entering the next show late like a douche.

By noon I’d decided to just drop one of the shows I had planned to see and relaxed. Maybe a little too relaxed. No one need eat an entire jumbo pretzel at Hofbräuhaus all by themselves.

I arrived late to Bell, Book and Discount Cocktails, and chose to lurk just outside the open door of the Grille like the incubus from Fuseli’s Nightmare. Like a creep.

Later, I was on my way from one place to somewhere else when I ran into Bell/Book’s Carrie Williams at the Patio, part of an SOR crowd enjoying Tales From the Bard. Improvisor Mike Frye (with musical accompaniment by Jack Routhier) spins a sung and spoken yarn based on audience interactions.

I had no idea what the plot was (hardly the point) when he announced the arrival of Old Father Time. And oh God yes, he was looking directly at me. I was pressed into service, and executing my role as instructed, hobbling in pain and just as suddenly spry. Then old. Older. It was a hoot.

So, I can honestly say I performed at BorderLight this year. See you in 2027!

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

Blessed Unrest: A Fantasia on Martha Graham's Demons | BorderLight 2026

Anne J. McEvoy

Someone needs to write a book about Anne McEvoy. Many know her as a local theater actor and director. She has played most Cleveland area stages — and also her streets as a historic interpreter.

Did you also know she co-founded Nature's Bin in the 1970s, which was not only an important local food source but provided vocational training for those with developmental disabilities?

I first got to know Anne when we were both cast in You Can't Take It With You at Great Lakes Theater in 2005, and soon after we played together in The Dark Lady of the Sonnets for the GLT outreach tour.

She's originated roles in a few of my plays, including my adaptation of The Mysterious Affair at Styles, and during the quarantine she was a player in Savory Taṇhā for Cleveland Public Theatre. 

And with Women in History she has interpreted a slew a memorable characters, including Sarah Bernhardt, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Abigail Adams, and Dorothy Fuldheim, among many others. She also performed the role of Mary, mother of Jesus, in Mamaí Theater Company's final production, The Testament of Mary by Colm Tóibín, a production marked by crowds of protestors lining the avenue currently occupied by the BorderLight Festival. 

William & Elizabeth
"The Dark Lady of the Sonnets"
(2006)

In Blessed Unrest: A Fantasia on Martha Graham's Demons (written by the performer, directed by Jamie Koeth) McEvoy embodies the legendary mother of modern dance as she grapples with the limitations of her physical self. The unapologetic anger she feels that can no longer dance, anger and resentment, but never self-pity.

Emily Kuntz makes two remarkable appearances, first as a memory of a young Graham, dancing in ponytail and black headband. Later, as a contemporary student, providing the septuagenarian Graham the opportunity to find a way back from despair.

It's a bravura performance from McEvoy, and one I hope finds a larger local audience some time soon.

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

Our Souls Did Touch | BorderLight 2026

Kiara Sylvie Durbin

I first saw Kierstan Kathleen Conway when played Kattrin in a local production of Mother Courage and Her Children. Kattrin is the daughter of the titular character, so traumatized by her wartime experiences she has been rendered voiceless. 

My wife and I were both so taken by Conway's performance and I strongly recommended the folks at Talespinner Children's Theatre ask her to audition for my new play, The Toothpaste Millionaire. 

It wasn't until after I had suggested she audition that I realized I had never heard her speak. No matter, she was just the right person to play Kate.

Conway is not only a talented actor, she is also a photographer, theater producer and playwright, and she wrote Our Souls Did Touch which was presented in the Grille at the Hermit Club. I don't know enough about the Hermit Club to know why they call it that, the paneling and baby grand piano more befits a space called the Parlor than the Grille, but it was ideal for this production.

Shows like this are like an elegant gift box, when a fringe production is assigned an unusual space which they subtly inhabit (I speak from experience). I can't even say whether Conway's team brought in a single piece of furniture, they didn't need to, it was all right there, down to the small piano lamp which narrator Truth Alice Taylor, channeling the spirit of Hedda Hopper, would use to briefly illuminate her space to provide context and innuendo.

Our Souls is a fictional piece inspired by the kind of sordid tales found in Kenneth Anger's Hollywood Babylon, though in this case "sordid" doesn't involve ugly details like Coke bottles or low overpasses but instead the lives of people in non-heteronormative relationships.

Complimenting the space, Conway created handwritten programs in the form of love letters, and designed a series of devastatingly stylish period looks. The playwright is also blessed with a classic face, even in her starlet character's most difficult moments, she looked as though she could be captured for a black and white still for Look. Her paramour, a journalist played by Kiara Sylvie Durbin, was styled in a number of Katherine Hepburnesque pants looks, each more confident than the one before.

This is what I am talking about. Big stories, big talent, small budget well spent, a dedication to the details. Well done.

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

Enjoy This EP | BorderLight 2026

With book, music and lyrics by Paige Scott, Enjoy This EP is a one-hour play from Indianapolis that chronicles the lyrical annihilation of a twit. Zachariah Stonerock is the picture perfect embodiment of a critic, specifically a music critic. 

But this isn't Sideways, the white male snob slouching towards middle age does not charm the attractive younger woman in spite of his many unpleasant attributes. At least, not for long. Not only does Lisa M. (gorgeously voiced by Hannah Boswell) put up with very little of his shit, unbeknownst to him she is an artist, a musician, a good one, and she does not require his validation. 

Not that she wouldn't like it. She just doesn't need it. Or him. It's a really great takedown of the myth of the put-upon, self-styled intellectual snob who really, really deserves love, a character that Paul Giamatti has played several times, actually.

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

Well-Balanced Dads | BorderLight 2026

Hot Dad Photo Shoot

This wasn't on my list. Creators Britt Anderson and Richie Schiraldi put out a call on social media for dad jokes, so I offered my favorite joke ever.

I saw my doctor for an examination the other day and he told me I needed to stop masturbating. When I asked him why, he said so I can examine you.

They private messaged me to say it's a good joke, but more of a "dirty uncle joke" than a dad joke. I hadn't noticed that theirs is a family show. I sheepishly responded with an apology and deleted my joke.

But then I posted another one.

Q: Why was six afraid of seven?

A: 6/7 lol

This one went over much better, because I also hadn't realized they were offering free tickets to Well-Balanced Dads for the best dad joke — and I won! Thank you, Britt and Richie! Eventually, I get it right.

And this is a show I would have been sorry to have missed. I did not assume it would have a meaningful plot. I also did not anticipate the Hotel California Dream Ballet. Dick and Dale and neighbors and dads and great friends who go on a dad-only camping weekend in a show which asks the question, "Why are dads?" 

Anderson and Schiraldi are very talented acrobats and hilarious comedians and improvisors. There were several opportunities for audience interaction (our performance included a small child who did a spot-on impersonation of an irritated parent who wanted the monkey business in the back seat to stop or they were going to turn this car around) and a coda that illustrated just how much more there is to being a dad than fathering.

There's that word again. 

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

It’s all a MESS! An Evening of **Smutty** Monologues with Convergence-Continuum | BorderLight 2026

Not their costume. Oh, no.

It’s not just that It’s All a Mess is a collection of monologues written by great local playwrights like Klae Bainter, EN Brettrager,  JC Cifranic, Samantha Cocco, Léo Fez (pictured), Mike Geither, and Christopher Johnston, and performed by some of my favorite local actors, it’s the fact that Convergence-Continuum has reintroduced the word SMUT to the popular conversation. That fact by itself tickled my trigger.

Making sex funny is hard (I said "hard") or at least it is when you are worried about offending anyone. It's a fine line, and so I have got to hand it to each of these playwrights, and this team of talented interpreters, that the evening was not only hilarious, but also earnest, hurt, kinky, angsty, and joyful.

In what was perhaps my favorite piece of the evening, it was also ornithological. Big ups to Michael Anderson for giving us the horniest bird obsessive since Matthew Modine.

You can look that up. 

I have eight shows (nine if you count another double-bill) booked for tomorrow. While none of them overlap, I am curious as to whether or not I will be able to successfully dash from one venue to another on time. Curious, but I refuse to be anxious about it.

My wife had a piece in the New York Fringe in 2001. I was running sound and had a lot of time on my hands. I think I saw sixteen different shows. If I play my cards right, I may see as many shows this weekend!

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

Closed Loop of Consanguinity | BorderLight 2026

Carol Laursen & Emily Liptow

I am always so grateful to have the opportunity to catch something I missed the first time around. Emily Liptow and Carol Laursen were developing Closed Loop of Consanguinity at Cleveland Public Theatre as part of Soft Launch last winter (where our elder child was also presenting) but we missed it. Here it is again!

Carol and I met at Ohio University and we performed together in Michael Frayn's Wild Honey in 1990, and later in Eight Impressions of a Lunatic for Red Hen Productions. I have directed her In Shakespeare. We are both citizens of Cleveland Heights, her children were child-minders for our children. I love Carol.

Closed Loop of Consanguinity is a brief, semi-improvised dance and movement piece in which the two artists explore the space and objects and each other and at times even the audience. The event begins with a voiceover inviting the audience to switch seats, to have a different perspective, and I kept thinking of that as I watched them, asking myself what their perspective was at any given moment.

After the show an audience member I was speaking with wondered what "consanguinity" means and I told them it's having a common ancestor, to be connected by blood.  I also admitted I looked that up before the show.

Consanguinity is on a double-bill with In Visible Orbit, created and performed by Greenhouse. They perform strenuous choreography to anxiety-inducing music, allowing us to bear witness to the physical toll the work takes on them, at the same time how dedicated they are to the performance. It's a celebration of grace and exhaustion, pain and exhilaration.

While I was there I ran into playwright Eric Coble. He strongly recommends H.O.P.E., Natasha Mirny's modern interpretation of the myth of Pandora. 

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

I Hate Memory! | BorderLight 2026

 "The past is a dick."

Esme Thorne (with Balint)

My brother introduced me to the works of Jim Jarmusch in the late 1980s. When I first visited his new St. Paul apartment in 1989 he had a handsomely framed poster of Stranger Than Paradise. It's one of his favorite movies, and we often quote that or Down By Law whenever it seems appropriate. And cousin Eva taught me about Screamin' Jay Hawkins.

Much later, I took my fourteen year-old son to see The Dead Don't Die, Jarmusch's 2019 zombie comedy film. I thought it was okay, but he really dug it. I thought I recognized Fern the waitress, and sure enough, that was also Eszter Balint. It was crazy. I have only ever thought of her as a teenager, but she's my age.

The other night she made an appearance at the Cinematheque, and you might ask why she would come to Cleveland for the screening of a film she made over forty years ago, or maybe you were already aware that her musical memoir I Hate Memory! is playing BorderLight.

A Hungarian immigrant, and the child of dissident theater artists, she first settled in New York City in the late 1970s. They lived at the Chelsea Hotel. No, really. She was in the thick of it, at that time, in that city, as an adolescent. As a child.

The show is a happening, as Balint tells stories, plays songs (great band) penned by herself ... and Stew! The young musician and actor Esme Thorne takes turns as the teenage Balint. The playwright's own vocal quality is a like a punk rock Blossom Dearie. There are projections and banter. It's a play, it's a concert.

It's a rough show. I mean that in any number of ways. It is a rare opportunity. Get there.

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

Gr33n Hamzies & Eggoes | BorderLight 2026

Dan Zanes was lead singer of the Del Fuegos and a wild garage rocker and swiller of Miller High Life until he started having kids and that's when he started recording children's music. I, too, had not considered the child audience until I started fathering them.

Fathering. What a terrible verb. I digress.

Faye Hargate and Renee Schilling collaborated on the Visual Theatre Award winning Her Mark for BorderLight 2023 and they (with Joan Hargate and Jeremy Paul) have devised a new exploration of motherhood with the creation of Gr33n Hamzies & Eggoes, an original and exploratory art installation for the very, very young.

I felt a bit odd, I knew I would, appearing as an adult without a child escort, but they don't judge. The space had just opened and there were already five kids with their two adults, and Hargate and Schilling, costumed as what appeared to me to be DIY store associates were making suggestions and accommodating needs as the child audience explored and commented and created.

Dan Zanes with my family (2005)

I was provided with stickers I was told I could put anywhere I liked (I put hem up high, there seemed to be no stickers up there for some reason) and was offered a basket of "dream boxes" the team had created previously in collaboration with a CHUH school.

In fact, dreams were a theme, the walls featured trees that asked "Where do you go when you dream?" with answers like, "I hear music in my dreams," and "I see my dog, he is no longer with us."

The night before I had dreamed that we lived in a society where cannibalism was permissible, but it was unseemly to discuss it. You had to be very discreet when disposing of long bones. I didn't write any of this on the trees.

Before I left there was a group activity where our hosts read the Dr. Seuss book which inspired the title of the installation. There were many questions from the children. How did you set this all up? What is that? Are you a rapper?

It's a calming, welcoming room, and the kids I saw appeared very happy to be there. This is an non-ticketed event. I recommend bringing a young person. 

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

In the Castle of Eternal Sunset | BorderLight 2026

Hogan Wayland & Brady Craddock

I might have missed this one entirely, were it not for another company having to unfortunately pull from the festival. I looked at the performance map and In the Castle of Eternal Sunset was playing at the same time so I swapped my tickets for that, without even looking up what it was about.

And it just so happens to be a play about the randomness of experience! Epically poignant.

The show is being presented in the upstairs space at Parnell's, a room I have spent much time in but God as my witness I can't remember if I have been up there since Covid. Waiting at the bottom of the steps I met Lethan Candlish, who is also presenting at BorderLight this year, and he handed me an honest-to-goodness promotional card for his show, Who Am I, Again?

Handing out your card at festivals was such a big deal in the early aughts, by the time we did Double Heart in 2013 it seemed to be a dying art. For And Then You Die in 2009, I handed out actual bottled water with the show attached as a sticker, which was burdensome but I'm proud of it. Which is all to say, go see Lethan's show! He brought cards!

Lethan Candlish

In the Castle of Eternal Sunset is written by Charles Green and comes to us from Knoxville, Performed by Brady Craddock and Hogan Wayland, an audience of twelve circles the game table as these two play Dungeons & Dragons and navigate an epic quest. 

There is a random element; on the throw of a die, an audience member will read a passage from a game manual, a poem of memory, nostalgia, and loss, while the agile performers execute tableaus of connection and discovery. This participation lent the proceedings an element of electricity and alertness.

Our crew didn't play Dungeons & Dragons, we played its scrappy knock-off, Tunnels & Trolls, which had fewer rules and took itself a lot less seriously. The game master was usually Fred, and his adventures were tightly wound, fraught with excitement, and strewn with hoary in-jokes and characters that were usually a thinly veiled swipe and either someone in the room or one of our usual targets. Eternal Sunset is much more earnest, and reflected a sincerity we were all too protective to permit. 

After the show I had to dash, we were seeing Lucinda Williams at the Beachland Ballroom. I have plans to see many more shows Friday night!

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

The Protest Café | BorderLight 2026

What if the United States threw a once-in-a-generation celebration and nobody came? Well, after last weekend, we all know the answer to that that question. When I was a kid, the American government commissioned all kinds of things to celebrate the Bicentennial, including the short film People People People, created by animators John and Faith Hubley. 

It is a surprisingly frank depiction of life on this continent (or this part of it, anyway) from before the arrival of European colonizers, and including some of the more unsettling aspects of what they (we) did once they (we) got here. The Bicentennial was a celebration, but it was also an education. And even the government, for a brief moment, strove to educate people.

First on my dance card for BorderLight 2026 was a selection of American protest songs, The Protest Café, bringing together some of my favorite folks. I have seen Eric Schmiedl and Tina D. Stump work together, most recently BUCKEYES; Buses & Baseball at last year's BorderLight, and this show also brings in Chennelle Bryant-Harris and Chelsea Cannon, both of whom composed the entire cast for Schmiedl's play adaptation Huck Finn, which I produced for the Great Lakes Theater outreach tour in 2018.

Chelsea & Chennelle

The program began before the rains began, it was a lovely evening. Eighty degrees, but cloudy, on the Patio at the Hermit Club. I had enough time after work to grab a pint at the bar and settle in to a table, where I found familiar faces and made new friends. I am reminded of previous festivals in other cities, where I felt alone and desperate for connection. Here, I know everyone. Like, really. It makes me so happy. It feels like home.

The Protest Cafe is brief and joyful, but powerful. We were invited to sing along, and I was delighted not only by how many lyrics I knew, but by the songs they chose. I was expecting something old-timey. Union songs! The Bourgeois Blues! Instead we were treated to protest songs from the entire span of the last century — and even one from this.

Looking around, I saw a one or two (white male) faces that weren't necessarily happy with the menu of songs. I wonder what they thought was going was going to be protested, the King of England? The First Amendment? Immigration? There's a spirited rendition of Irving Berlin's When That Man Is Dead and Gone. It was written about Hitler, but if in hearing it you are thinking about someone else, someone in particular, well surely that's his fault and not yours.

The company is inviting and warm, and so very patriotic. This one's free, but you need to make a reservation as seating is limited.

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

BorderLight Theatre Festival (2026)

When the BorderLight Theatre Festival debuted in 2019, I was so excited! I have had several delightful experiences participating in theater festivals from New York to Minnesota to Alaska, and the thought of having our own, right here in Cleveland? The possibilities were thrilling.

I have been grateful to have had plays in the past three festivals, by accident and by design. Give Me Your Keys commissioned and produced Step Nine in 2023, Talespinner Children’s Theatre remounted their spring production of The Toothpaste Millionaire in 2024, and I self-produced The Right Room in 2025.

This year, while I do not have a show in BorderLight, I have made plans to see as many shows as possible. While I expect there to be a lot of my friends in the festival in any given year, I have so many friends in the festival this year!

Some of the shows I am dead chuffed to attend include (but is not limited to) Eszter Balint’s punk rock memoir play I Hate Memory!, Kierstan Kathleen Conway’s queernoir Our Souls Did Touch, and Anne J. McEvoy’s monodrama Blessed Unrest: a Fantasia on Martha Graham’s Demons.

I plan to report on what I see and hear this weekend, check back to see my posts and follow me on Instagram. And tell me what to see!

BorderLight Theatre Festival at Playhouse Square, July 8-11, 2026

Shakespeare in Kabul (book)

American theater is in crisis, audiences have not returned in numbers since Covid. And how do we engage the new, young audience?

Theaters are closing. Those that remain are sticking to the familiar titles. New Broadway shows are based on IP, well known movies and books.

And yet, we believe in the unique elements of live stage performance. It is an art form which may not thrive in late-stage Capitalism, but we imagine it will outlast the apocalypse. See Station Eleven. See Mister Burns.

There is something compelling about the story of a production coming together, whether it is a hard-won success or a famous flop and there seems to be a special place, as always, for Shakespeare.

Most recently, I have been reading Shakespeare In Kabul by Stephen Landrigan and Qais Akbar Omar. In 2005, shortly after the Taliban was driven from power by American forces, an American playwright (Landrigan) and a French director, Corrine Jaber, decided to bring Western theatrical tradition to Afghanistan. And inspired by the rich Afghan tradition of poetry, Jaber decided it must be Shakespeare.

The narrative begins with Landrigan, but fortunately soon turns to Omar, a native of Kabul, who performed as interpreter for the company, and whose creative input would prove not only transformative but vital.

Cultural sensitivity is a thing, and having decided to produce a play by William Shakespeare in a nation invaded by foreign factions and traumatized by a fundamentalist regime for over thirty years, then choice of title was fraught with potential pitfalls.

Fortunately, they had begun the search for potential performers before choosing what they were even going to play, because their Afghan counterparts were those who insisted it must be a comedy, that their people had endured too much tragedy. The director was hoping to engage women in the performance, and perhaps the best opportunity in Shakespeare for an equal number of roles for women, is Love’s Labour’s Lost.

Labour’s is a challenging play in that it would seem that Shakespeare composed it with a very specific audience in mind. B-plots include the ethnically insensitive depiction of an amorous Spanish nobleman and the nonsensical yet pretentious ramblings of a philosopher. These are diversions, however, from the main story – a king has decided on behalf of his best friends that in order to become great men they must commit to a period of fasting, small sleep, intensive study and the complete absence of women.

Then some women show up. Not just any women: a princess and her own band of friends, charming, intelligent, and witty, and like the boys, four in number. Comedy happens. And this was just what these artists were seeking in Afghanistan in 2005.

Christine Castro & David Ellis
"Love's Labour's Lost"
Cleveland Shakespeare Festival (2000)

You can quite handily edit the text down down to these eight – and the two servants between them – and be left with an entirely satisfying, romantic evening. The Cleveland Shakespeare Festival did just this in 2000, Eric Schmiedl directing.

“They’ve tamed 'Love’s Labour’s Lost', the most problematic of Shakespeare’s comedies … through sleight of hand, with sets and props no more extensive than sunglasses and scarves [CSF] have paired it down to ninety minutes of pure enchantment.” - Cleveland Scene

In this instance, Schmiedl punctuated the romantic interplay with brief addresses chosen from popular fashion and advice magazines. These kinds of artistic choices can irritate purists – one local critic sniffed, “bar pick-up advice and dating-poll conclusions preface and diminish the perceptive beauty of Willie’s insights of the heart.”

But context is everything, and the summer of 2000 was still really the 1990s. And anyway, the Plain Dealer disagreed, calling the production, “a triumph of wit, ingenuity, and clarity.”

Reading Shakespeare In Kabul (a book which was later expanded with the title A Night in the Emperor's Garden) occasionally reminded me of Salesman In Beijing, Arthur Miller’s own account of when he was invited to direct Death of a Salesman in Beijing. In his telling, Miller is remarkably disinterested in Chinese traditions of performance, insisting his team cleave to American theatrical conventions, even as they were speaking in Mandarin.

Jaber, to her credit, wanted very much for the play to feel familiar to the intended audience. Translated into Dari, names and locations were changed to bring the story into a majestic Afghani past.

Even so, there was an issue with the “Muscovites.” Labour’s hilarity reaches its climax when the young men decide to play a kind of prank on the women, disguising themselves Russians. Reaching this part of the rehearsal process, the acting company flew into open revolt, which was shocking to the Westerners. Surely, the Afghans would love this opportunity to mock their former oppressors, and could not understand why their actors felt this was in the very worst taste.

And this is the part I love. And this is why I love to produce the works of William Shakespeare. No, let me take that a step further – this is why I love creating live theatrical productions:

Leila Hamgam, Breshna Bahar,
Marina Gulbahari, Sabar Sahar
"Love's Labour's Lost"
Kabul, Afghanistan (2005)

The French director chose to remove herself from the conflict, from the rehearsal, to – as I understand it – bring down the temperature of the situation. Left alone with the very unhappy actors, Omar – the translator – suggested the men disguise themselves as Indians. Indian culture and in particular Indian “Bollywood” films are wildly popular in Afghanistan, something the Western producers could not have appreciated.

As a result, the performance culminated with the King and his men dressing like characters from their favorite films, singing and dancing and making fools of themselves to impress and delight the women to the sheer and absolute joy of every crowd for which they performed.

The story still ends as Shakespeare conceived of it, the festivities abruptly concluding with the news of the death of the princess’s father. She must go, to mourn, and to ascend the throne, with a promise to return in one year if the men will remain true.

There is much more to the story. The freedoms promised when international forces drove the Taliban from power in 2001 were all too short lived. And one theatrical production seems like such a small thing. I guess that’s why we continue making them.

See also: 

Love's Labour's Lost (2016)

"Love's" in the Time of COVID-19

Sources:
"Back From the Beach, Two summer offerings lure us from shore to show" by Keith Joseph, Cleveland Scene (7/6/2000)
"The Bard’s Version of ‘Friends’" by Linda Eisenstein, The Plain Dealer (7/1/2000)
"Dumbed Down, Cleveland Shakespeare Festival mauls two of the Bard’s comedies" by James Damico, The Free Times (7/5/2000)