This is Drama Masks, a Bay Area performing arts column from a born San Franciscan and longtime theatre artist in an N95 mask. I talk venue safety and dramatic substance, or the lack thereof.
There’s a 2025 meme featuring a queue of angry white men at the edge of a cliff. Just beyond the edge is a bell with a sign that reads “Ring to Piss Off Liberals”. Ringing it inevitably sends one falling, shouting “I didn’t vote for this!” all the way down. Sound familiar?
Republicans (and “centrists”) know this new Iran quagmire is a mess of their own making. Hell, I’ve written about how Dubya-era populism led to MAGA bloodlust. Even after Jan 6, they still threw their votes behind a twice-impeached accused rapist. They can’t say this was unexpected. I critique narratives, so I know revisionism when I see it.
I’m also an activist, so I’m more impressed by, y’know, action. It takes more than simply saying “I don’t like this!” If Trump voters were really fed-up with his bullshit—despite supporting ICE killings, the Maduro kidnapping, and the literal destruction of the White House—they wouldn’t be trying to suppress voting rights to prevent a primary “blue wave.” In fact, Republicans themselves could file the articles of impeachment against their demagogue. You want to change your perception in this narrative? Do something heroic for once.
Needless to say, I’m not holding my breath on that outcome. These days, I take life’s little victories where I can. For instance, SF Ballet finally cancelled their shows at the Kennedy Center. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late to do the right thing.
PARANORMAL ACTIVITY AT ACT
Medium matters during adaptation. It’s one (part of the) reason why the purely theatrical Cats doesn’t work without a live audience. The Paranormal Activity film series (which I have seen in its entirety) is “found-footage horror” through and through. That’s a film-exclusive narrative choice that doesn’t work in theatre. How do you possibly do it justice on stage? Simple: add magic.
The Paranormal Activity stage play (through March 27 at ACT’s Toni Rembe Theater, SF) employs crafty sleight-of-hand to bring the supernatural to life: objects fly; blankets unravel; bodies vanish before your very eyes. These tricks have been used on stage for more a hundred years, yet the crew behind Fly Davis’ intricate dollhouse set make them feel fresh.
Levi Holloway’s script is (like Next of Kin) a standalone story that has nothing to do with the films’ main arc, even if it basically remakes that series’ first installment. This time, we find Americans Lou (Cher Álvarez) and James (Travis A. Knight) in their new British home after fleeing Chicago. Lou had an incident that threw her mental health into question. The logical James loves his wife, but finds her supernatural explanation hard to swallow. Inevitably, things begin to go bump in the night and our couple start to worry about what’s hiding in the shadows.
Between Holloway’s crackling script and the actors’ natural performances, the show bathes in immersion-through-performance. None of the dialogue feels forced or melodramatic, with a joke about literal gaslighting nearly bringing down the house. The audience had both theatre and film folk (the latter of whom needed shushing) curious as to whether a play could be terrifying. Needless to say, they got their answer, and then some.
Personally, I wish there had been more patrons in masks, as there are several scary viruses about, thanks to a certain MAHA demon. CO² readings on my Aranet4 topped 1,905ppm by the final bow.
ACT also hosted the terrifying The Woman in Black and the world premiere of Communion, Christopher Chen’s Zoom-exclusive sleight-of-hand play. Paranormal Activity may just be ACT’s attempt to lure some of the AGT’s mainstream crowd away, but that doesn’t make it any less an enjoyably chilling night of theatre. It may be spun-off from a film series, but its power is embracing the theatrical.
PARANORMAL ACTIVITY runs through March 22. ACT’s Toni Rembe Theater, SF. Tickets and further info here.
ALL MY SONS AT BERKELEY REP
Arthur Miller is so canonized as the “quintessential American playwright” that some forget how anti-establishment his work was. Look no further than All My Sons (through March 29 at the Berkeley Rep), which begins so deceptively milquetoast that Anna Louizos’ gorgeous set seems to have grown from its own synthetic lawn.
The Rep’s production of the post-WWII tale boasts a PoC-heavy cast led by Jimmy Smits as war profiteer Joe Keller, and longtime partner Wanda de Jesús as wife Kate. Joe wants his son Chris (Alejandro Hernandez) to take over the disgraced family business. Chris just wants to marry Ann Deever (Mayaa Boateng), former girlfriend of his late brother, whom Kate naïvely expects to return. Ann’s father went to prison for Joe, so the arrival of her brother George (Brandon Gill) is nothing less than a storm touching down.
As directed by David Mendizábal, the show is nearly torpedoed by uneven performances. Smits stammers so much early on that one wonders if he’d just gotten off-book on opening night. (He’s better in the later scenes.) De Jesús, by contrast, is pitch-perfect as Kate, never once delivering a sour note. Boateng’s performance is the opposite, erroneously playing Ann as a ditzy Betty Boop-type. Better served are locals Elissa Beth Stebbins as impatient neighbor Sue and Regina Morones as Lydia. The latter, in particular, makes her character’s defining trait genuinely hilarious and heart-breaking.
Another thing working in the show’s favor was the HVAC of the Rep’s Roda Theatre. Despite only a few masks in the audience, CO² levels peaked around 897 ppm, dropping down to 698 by the final bow. (The final mask-required performance will be the matinée on March 8.) Other than that, the script hasn’t lost any of its anti-capitalist power after eight decades. It’s too bad not all the cast match that energy.
ALL MY SONS runs through March 29. Berkeley Reperatory. Tickets and further info here.
LOOKING FOR JUSTICE (IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES) AT THE MARSH-BERKELEY
The Marsh often seems like a place for Bay Area elders to purge their issues about the hippie era. Amy Oppenheimer’s Looking for Justice (In All the Wrong Places) (through March 29 at The Marsh-Berkeley) is one such show, wherein a New Yorker follows a spouse to Berkeley in ’71, only to eventually discover her lesbianism and passion for the law.
Oppenheimer realizing the complexities of practicing law (like such as a battered wife returning to her husband) provides a refreshing type of epiphany. A sexual assault case finds her in a morally compromising position that’s infuriating to watch, but what was the logical alternative? Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
The opening day full house had CO² levels top 1,152ppm. Other than that, Looking for Justice… is a mostly-fascinating reminiscence about the old Bay Area and a tangled criminal justice system. Its meta ending is a bit too saccharine, but what precedes that ending is a fine portrait of where everyone fits in our broken system.
LOOKING FOR JUSTICE (IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES) runs through March 29. The Marsh-Berkeley. Tickets and further info here.
