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‘Jurors’ lay down the law

‘Jurors’ lay down the law

Hannah Petrak, editor in chief

Raise your hand if you want to send a possibly innocent 16-year-old boy to the electric chair for murdering his abusive father. One man believes there is reasonable doubt even with convincing evidence and two eyewitnesses.

Twelve people are angry, at each other, at the case, and at themselves for compromising their values just to reach a verdict and get out of that small, sweaty room.

Maintaining tension during a whole hour and forty-five minutes on one set without intermission is not an easy thing to do.

“Twelve Angry Jurors,” adapted from the original 1957 film, “Twelve Angry Men,” managed to keep the audience covering their mouths in shock as the pressure not only remained high, but continued to escalate until the final exit.

The costumes were quite perfect and believable, reminiscent of the elegant charm of the 50s. And the attractive set fit the color scheme as well as served as a background for a behind-the-scenes courtroom drama.

Even the detail of the room’s temperature was portrayed well and contributed to the twelve’s restlessness as some of the men’s backs were soaked with sweat and the women fanned themselves.

During their small breaks they fought to use the restroom just to escape from their tautening nerves. It was the small and significant things that kept the nearly full house on opening night fixed in their chairs and standing to their feet in ovation for the actors’ bow.

The 12 jurors could not keep their personal lives out of the provoking case. Ashley Danno’s character understands the one of the witnesses on a deeper level and can relate to his wanting attention. Danno’s simplicity let the audience care for her when she was victimized without pounding on their hearts and begging for some sympathy.

Paige Murray’s character lived in the slums and her energy brought a certain determined street-smart combined with innocence that never let the tension drop while she defended the boy from being seen as a stereotype.

Donna Simon Johnson’s character cannot let go of her own son’s estrangement and her explosion after the quick yelling match with Ryan Miller’s character was the most riveting moment of the play. She was so attached and violent. And her afterwards calm was a perfect reflection and momentary placidity that questioned the motive for her storm.

Reeni Lindblom was especially natural in her delivery and stood out on stage. Her eyes could be seen from the top row and indicated her struggle to understand the repercussions of her decision.

Michael Dye’s character was more than just a comic relief in his cough drop offers and pushover tendencies. He showed that even the underdog has to struggle not to go along with the majority but decide for himself.

As the jurors convince themselves of what is fact and what is mere possibility, the audience will not be able to agree with one person the whole way through.

They turn on each other and nothing can be resolved until Miller’s justice-seeking attitude spreads. His contemplation and steadiness is gripping, which forces the audience to consider themselves in this position.

To send a murderer to the electric chair is one thing. But to execute a possibly innocent young man is another.

This play is not just another suspenseful drama reliant on violence and quick scene changes. Its suspense comes in making a decision to take a life based on considering every supposed fact and poking holes in every argument.

“Twelve Angry Jurors” does not let the audience sit passively, but engages them in understanding the moral complexities of capital punishment. This is one of the most compelling dramas recently to play on the Lyceum stage; it will not be forgotten.

‘Fantasticks’ players finer than play

‘Fantasticks’ players finer than play

Hannah Petrak, Editor in Chief

Life would be much more entertaining with a narrating bandit, a dancing mute, and metaphorical confetti gracefully falling onto a floor of Starry Night. But the message of Tom Jones’ The Fantasticks says, “Do not rely on frills and self-deceptions for a happy ending.”

Meet Matt, Lucas Moore—a college boy who, honestly, is Corry from Boy Meets World.

And Luisa, Donna Louden—a 16-year-old girl who reads too many fairy tales.

Their love for each other was thwarted by their angry, neighboring mothers, Candace Miser and Stephany Paker, who built a wall to separate the children and the over-pruned lawn from the over-watered one.

Twenty minutes later, the mothers reveal they are not enemies at all, but bosom buddies scheming to get their children together. They shall hire the bandit, Zach Simons, to simulate an abduction so that Matt can rescue his Luisa in distress and bring the families together in matrimony.

Forty minutes later, the plan is a success. Intermission.

Act One could have been the entire play. The audience could have walked away fully satisfied from a meal of jolly songs, slight conflict, and happy ending. Had the performances not been so superb, the seats might have been half-empty for the second Act, which contained the actual conflict, resolution and moral of the musical.

The most memorable moment was the first time the bumbling Henry and Mortimer, played by Brandon Arias and Jon Black, unexpectedly emerged from the abyss of the box.

The fool and trusty sidekick have been recycled so many times. But these actors made their characters so specific and original that Arias was an absolute cartoon character and Black a special, British/Native American who could steal anyone’s heart and spank it with a bat.

Every player’s voice was top notch, especially Louden’s. Her presence was strong; even while sitting still through an entire song not her own, she commanded the stage.

And her scenes with adorable Moore were full of chemistry. Both Moore and Louden were convincingly in love, a difficult thing to show in 20 minutes.

The mute, Elise Coppola, brought a mysterious element and her dancing was most impressive. The stage was sparse, so the audience really needed to use its imagination. Director Vanda Eggington did well in using the entire stage to create an atmosphere of creative believability with minimal props and almost no set.

The big fight scene, choreographed by Deborah Marley, was especially epic, sword against baguette against sword against fish. Masses of fury took over the stage and escalated into a weeklong, grand dying of El Gallo.

Each facet of the production pointed toward the phantasmagorical. The costumes were true while twisted, the lighting beautiful and revealing, the live music a focus and a background. The only distraction was the somewhat contrived and extreme make-up: notably the mothers’ unnecessary eye shadow and Matt’s over-the-top rosy cheeks.

Although the story was a bit of a let down in its format and premature climax, the Vanguard players were strong in delivery and impeccable in performance. In particular, Miser’s Hucklebee was sharp, keen, and a bit Rabbit-esque of Pooh and Friends.

The cast convinced the audience to return for the second half, which included more inventive ways to use shredded paper, some challenging songs, and, fortunately, more ridiculous scenes with Henry and Mortimer. There will definitely be returnees in the audience, if only to experience the box giving birth to those two fools.