If I had to pick 3 divas more diverse than Bette Midler, Billie Holiday, and Barbara Streisand, I’d be hard pressed. Midler is the brash one, Holiday the earthy one, and Streisand the arty, vulnerable one. There’s a loose association between these three and singers Heather Alexander, Cathy Merkel-Roddy, and Mandi Jo John, but tonight’s show mixes and matches their numbers and never ties a particular artist to any of the styles.

Holiday’s selections gets right to the point, even if its clouded in double entendres, with “Ain’t Nobodies Business By My Own” ,”All of Me” (Merkel-Roddy) and “This Joint Is Jumpin’ “(John). The Divine Miss M brings a bathhouse energy to “Second Hand Rose” (John) and the crazy ballad “Otto Titzling” (Alexander), while the trio croons Streisand’s numbers “Evergreen,” “People Who Need People” (John), and the torchy “Happy Days Are Hear Again” (Alexander). Between the tunes there’s banter and Sophie Tucker Jokes, but the surprise hit was innocent looking newcomer Kyle Mattingly on piano. He plays in church on Sunday mornings and in this music hall on Saturday nights. He’s the essence of a good, solid diva - sacred and profane, and you never know which will arrive on stage any given night. He’s a solid addition to this Winter Park tradition.

For more information on Winter Park Playhouse, please visit http://www.winterparkplayhouse.org

Some families produce artists, some bakers, some politicians, but the Ortiz clan specializes in Marines. Three generation fought and survived some of our least successful expeditions, from Grandpop George (Dave Heuvel) freezing his fingers off in Korea to Little George (Benjamin Rush) sweating bullets in Vietnam to Elliot (Michael Kutner) eating Iraqi dust. Elliott’s biggest desire is to trade war stories with Pop, yet his father refuses to revisit this personal trauma. Neither enlistment or basic training or a Purple Heart qualifies Elliot to enter his father’s inner world, and takes his mother Ginny (Jenny Weaver) to pony up the musty old letters that reveal the jungle and the desert are very similar places for a young warrior. Without ever stating it explicitly, all three take the same journey. They left Puerto Rico to find the shining city of American assimilation, only to have their children repeat the trip. Each story is unique, and yet identical - the infantryman’s lot changes little and no matter how open America is, there’s always new minority knocking on the door.

Kutner’s Elliot never questioned the war or his decision to enlist, but rather he projects the smug attitude of an 18 year-old’s invincibility that makes him seem a real soldier. What binds these stories and this family is Ginny’s earthiness. She may be Elliot’s mom, but when she’s nursing Pop back from a shrapnel wound, she drips a super charged sexual tension. Corny as it sounds, I see the family as Earth (Ginny), Air (George Sr.), Fire (Elliot) and Water (Pop). It’s an old model, but one from which Ms. Hudes built a universe we all might find ourselves occupying. Every motion is razor sharp, and when emotion fails, you always have High Ideals to keep you going forward.

Like Mad Cow’s drum pounding Major Barbara next door, this show is never expressly antiwar. It accepts deadly conflict as part of the human condition, but shows it can be a rugged ladder to a higher good. Elliot and his clan accept the chance random death or mutilation and exploit Heroism to gain acceptance in the larger world. Everything can be endured, as long as you find acceptance on one level or another.

For more information on Mad Cow, please visit http://www.madcowtheatre.com

I thought I was the most cynical man I ever met, but Shaw’s “Major Barbara” makes me reconsider. The wealthy Undershaft family is torn by Lady Britomart’s (Olsen) societal pretentions and her distaste of husband Andrew’s (Schneider) business of making bombs and warships and selling them to all comers. He never met his children, but now its time for Mom to swallow her pride and ask Andrew for their allowance as none of them seem employable. She treats oldest son Stephen (Davis Knoell) as a child and despises Sarah’s (Fridlich) genially confused Charles (Jamie Cline). But the biggest disappointment is Barbara (Palmer) - she’s a Major in the Salvation Army, lives on less than a pound a day, and is engaged to homeless professor of Greek, Adolphus Cusins (Marinaccio). When daddy drops by to sort out who’s who, he and Barbara spar over war and morality until they each agree to visit each others work. This is the philosophical issue Shaw turns on its head - is morality served better by bribing the poor to church with bread and treacle, or by giving them middle class employment and values, and letting them decide for themselves what they want to believe? He argues that building bombs does more for the good of mankind than feeding the poor. If this was Face The Nation, they’d have his skin for a lampshade.

Under director Jim Martin the epic “Major Barbara” stays on focus and allows the conclusions to arrive unexpectedly and convincingly. Schneider looks the jovial father as he re-discovers his family while Olson perfects the Passive Aggressive Mother from Hell. Palmer’s Barbara stands tall and remains in control whether dealing with the physical comedy of Act Two or the philosophical contortions of Act Three. Stephen Lima stole the show as the abusive Bill Walker. His on stage beating of defenseless Jenny Hill (Sara Lockard) seemed gut wrenchingly real, and Walkers inner pride in the face of defeat and starvation won the audiences’ heart. Both Cline and Marinaccio worked hard to out self-efface each other - it was like watching two 8 year olds argue: “Your dad can beat the crap out of mine!” “No he can’t!”

The arguments Shaw makes are subtle, and comparisons with Swift’s “Modest Proposal” leave you wondering just how serious he was. Feeding the homeless and getting them off the streets is a noble cause, but it never seems to prevent more of them from magically appearing. Allowing people to blow off steam by killing their neighbors en mass feels good for a while, but as soon as the disgusted survivors are magically replaced by fresh cannon fodder, the cycle always repeats. Perhaps the Undershaft’s and their friends have the right idea - find a system to exploit and exploit it. Whether you’re scamming the welfare system or the Pentagon, it’s nothing more or less that brute survival. Get up, put on your pants, and go to work. You’ll eventually be dead, but try to delay it as long as possible.

For more information on Mad Cow, please visit http://www.madcowtheatre.com

Rage, jealousy, incent and murder - this is the fodder of Opera, Grand or Soap. What’s the difference? Soap Operas never have a soprano, but Grand Operas eventually end. Sol Sussman (Christian Kelty) hasn’t had a hit movie in a decade and the mob is on his case about $20 million in back vigorish and he’s been constipated since Madrid. He discovers his wife Angela’s (Kevin Bee) infidelity with greasy Tony Parker (Joe Saunders) and his son Lance’ (Scott Poole) addiction to drugs and boys. Good thing his daughter Edith (Jennifer Gannon) dresses in her micro miniskirt for him and faithful retainer Bootsie Carp (Peni Lotoza), well, retains faithfully. Things hit rock bottom when Angela slips him a deadly suppository and poisons Bootsie’s hip flask. This what Wagner would sound like with fart jokes.

This brilliantly campy comedy draws on every Made For TV movie of the past 30 years. Clever audio sample emphasize the pseudo dramatic moments, and the audience supplies the critical laugh tract. While Kelly’s hairpiece is bit goyish and Lotoza’s grasp of Yiddish intonation is funnier than the line she’s supposed to say, the laughs flow like cheap wine. Things peak with Kelty’s rising from the dead with his 5 foot suppository, theme music, and dramatic lighting. Kevin Bee is brilliantly campy, and while it’s not clear why Angela is played in drag, its one of those jokes that wouldn’t survive rationalization.

Like any good camp show or opera, the how and why of the story are unimportant, so long as the spectacle impresses. Paul Horan’s elegant set and Singeresque painting are a deceptively calm canvas for the duplicity and avarice of the Sussman clan. The motivations are vicious, the execution devilish, and the net results is a great Feel Bad comedy. Hope you family isn’t like them, because living in an opera is bad for your health.

For more information, please visit http://www.theatredowntown.net

It’s big, it’s noisy, it’s ambitious, and while “My Illustrious Wasteland” doesn’t quite make it to the stars, it at least makes it to the upper ionosphere. In the not too distant future implanted chips allow instant internet access and handset free cell phone communication. While the minutes are unlimited, it comes with instant government control of the subject’s already short attention span. History is measured by People Magazine and pop stars obsess a nation incapable of hanging up the phone for 5 minutes and talking about something important, like the weather. Mogs McCallsiter-Itch (McIntyre) can’t seem to remember who won Best Soap Opera Star for 1991 until he falls in love with Sunny Day (Berkowitz), recently married to evil President Reverend, MD (Kimbro). Early on, PRMD announced his plans to remain faithful until a better looking babe showed, so he’s a little miffed when Sunny takes up with Mogs. The Realists abduct Mogs, remove his implant, and improve his relation with his pill popping mother (Beth Marshall). What’s the message? Hang up your cell phones and think for yourself. This IS a speculative fiction.

If the story sounds complicated, it is and it’s not until the second act that the show settles on a principle story line that you can identify with. Kimbro is an effective villain, and a much better singer than your average bad guy. Berkowitz nails the blond bimbo look, but adds a spectacular voice to go with it. She stuns when she sings “As Real as It Can Get” and “Wake Up / Suspicious Sunny Day”, even with the bottom heavy sound mix that made most of the lyrics indecipherable. Mogs fit well into the Lost Boy of the Future, but he wasn’t very likeable until he got that implant removed. Backing band Lucifer-Itch did well with Kimbro’s quirky brand of rock and roll, and there’s a nice touch of choreography courtesy of Blue. A huge video screen provided running ads and commentary that parodied the information overload that takes over our lives. Some of the ads were hysterical, and some just weird. Interestingly, I didn’t detect a single cell phone ring during the show.

The fundamental hurdle My Illustrious Wasteland faces it its attempt to cover politics; love, pop culture, government conspiracy and slacker apathy in one go. While the commentary is funny and to the point, it’s not until Wasteland settles into the traditional musical themes of mixed up love and powerful pop ballads that it really takes off.

For more information on My Illustrious Wasteland, please visit http://todkimbro.com/

In the dog days of summer, it’s a great idea to put on a show and let the whole department take a shot at doing something, anything, on stage. This Summer Showcase themes itself around the “Seven Stages of Love” with songs, scenes and dance numbers from the past 70 years. While you might remember the 7 Deadly Sins or Shakespeare’s 7 Stages of Life, the passage of Love is marked are Alone, Looking, Fulfilled, Complicated, Alternative, Family, and At Long Last Love. Of these Fulfilled (marriage) is the shortest and Alone is the longest. There must be some symbolism there.

With 50 plus short numbers, this is like a punk rock show - if you don’t like something, its over pretty fast. “Taylor, the Latte Boy” sung by Natalie Finkelstein and Brock Yurich sounds like it ought to be from a musical, but isn’t, tells the sweet love story of a stalker and her victim sung with a creepy tension. “Always the Bridesmaid” (Stephanie Lloyd, Ashley Fischer, and Amanda Wansa) hops with a country beat while it whines about a closet full of matching ugly shoes and unwearable dresses. Andrew Clateman does a wonderful spoken word piece “Cheesecake Truck” and James Rinaldi and Emily Bramblett dash off a great “Masochism Tango” from famed math professor and novelty song writer Tom Lehrer. The strongest number wrapped up the first act as Khristy Chamberlin and “Santi” Reyes launched into Queen’s “Somebody to Love” backed by the full cast. All that was missing was the monster hair and white jump suits.

While the spirit of the Summer Showcase is “Hey, lets put on a show”, the result is no “awe, aren’t they cute?” production. There’s really not a bad number anywhere, the music is well arranged and when actors aren’t performing, they sit perfectly still on those comfy rehearsal cubes all theater keep around for times when they need to look stagey.

For more information on UCF Conservatory Theatre, visit
http://www.theatre.ucf.edu

It’s a man’s world, at least tonight in the cozy confines of the Winter Park Playhouse. This loosely structured entertainment features three belting voices and a dozen or two songs that celebrate masculinity, but no so strongly that it offends your date. We’ve all heard that men are just for lifting heavy objects, squishing bugs, and have no idea what color Navy Blue looks like. Not much changes that viewpoint, but the opening medley of “Standing on the Corner” and “There Is Nothing Like a Dame” was loud enough to press your shirt. Guys can sing LOUD if they want. There’s more variety in this variety show than previous WPPH cabarets - some Country music lurks between the Sondheim and Mercer - “I’m Taking The Bar Exam” is a Honky Tonk classic, and there were a pair of Jimmy Buffet songs (”Margaritatville”, “A Pirate Looks at 40″) by Mr Taylor accompanied by guitarist Bill Schwartz.

Periodically the cast pulled slips of paper from a fried chicken bucket and read out Guy Rules. Conveniently, all guy rules are number one, so the girls can keep track of them. They’re basic stuff, like “Learn to work the toilet, we don’t complain when you leave the seat down” and “If you bring us a problem, we will give you a solution. If you want sympathy, call your girlfriend” and most important “Crying is Blackmail.”

There’s an open bar and you can hang out while they sing stuff from Monty Python and the Rat Pack, and there are just enough sports references to make you forget drama majors never get to play Varsity anything. Guy Thing is a date safe show with no malice or macho; its just superior singing by Long, Taylor, and Brandt supported by Musical Director Leavy’s vamping. Guys aren’t all bad, if you see this show one of the boys will call you Monday to see how you’re feeling.

For more information on Winter Park Playhouse, please visit http://www.winterparkplayhouse.org

It’s not easy to find a thread through this disparate collection of monologs about urban life, but each of the individual stories are gems. The ensemble of tellers represents a slice of Los Angles inhabitants, some funny, some sad, and all talking about Life, however you define it. Michael Sapp performs two of the best - a dad and his son playing tourist and accidentally wearing some gang colors, and finding similarities been slaughtering live stock and a black man dealing with the LAPD. Jill Jones tells the story of choking on the brown air of LA until one night she saw the most fabulous sunset, and meets the love of her life who’s been living next door for the past 3 years. Ron McDuffie argues with God over his working class sins, and Trennel Mooring agonized over sending her child to a safe, caring mostly white private school or to exposing her to the full fury of the Angelino educational class struggle. Avis Marie Barnes played a Spanish woman who supported her loser husband while popping out 16 consecutive bambini, and Leander Suleiman tearfully described bullying and near rape in the school yard.

There’s little to tie these stories together other than location and a loose time frame. The dramaturgy notes explain author Rivera’s belief that writers ought to “Write outside their culture.” This worthy attitude clashes with the “It’s a Black Thing, you wouldn’t understand” view so often taken when whites write about minority cultures. If Mr. Rivera sets out to capture other’s worldviews, he’s done an admirable job, and if Mr. DiDonna strives to make us think outside of our condos, he also has excelled.

For more information on Mad Cow, please visithttp://www.madcowtheatre.com

It’s hard to think of a less promising topic for a musical than interviews with people who not only didn’t like the president, but decided to take the law into their own hands. Even through the skilled writing of Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman, it’s a tough show to connect with despite the excellent direction and acting by the Mad Cow crew.

Kevin Kelly plays the pocked and convincing great granddaddy of American assassins, John Wilkes Booth. Of all the shooters, Booth presents at least a reasonable justification for his actions - vengeance for the humiliation the South had suffered at Lincoln’s hands. The Balladeer (Jacob Haines) proclaims Lincoln had some mixed reviews, but his untimely death vaulted him to the pantheon of the New World Gods overnight. Other early assassins such as Leon Czolgosz (Jay T. Becker) and Giuseppe Zangara (Eddy Coppens) leaned more toward the Anarchist Labor complaint of “Why haven’ I made it in America yet?” The modern post Kennedy killers seemed more wacked out with rationalizations ranging from a creepy John Hinckley’s hormone induced “This will impress Jody Foster” to Squeaky Fromm’s (Meggin Weaver) love for Charles Manson.

With difficult material, “Assasins”  gives the actors some challenges. Still, batty Sara Jane Moore (Kate O’Neil) stole the show with her “Go to the store, drop off the dry cleaning, shoot the president” planning. The flaming Charles Guituea (Jonathan Lange) and Sam Byck’s (Kurt von Schmittou) evil looking Santa added a necessary comic element to the proceedings. Kelly’s Booth and the Balladeer both get top marks for singing - their “Ballad of Booth” propelled the show into action and it never slowed until the moving “Another National Anthem” which reaches some ambiguous conclusions. The weirdest moment comes at the end, when the cast convinces Lee Harvey Oswald (Jesse LeNoir) to forgo suicide for a pop at a Kennedy. I’ve heard my share of conspiracy theories, but this was a new one.

For a musical, there’s minimal romance, a cast of barely likeable scoundrels, and more actual history than you might expect in an evening of theater, but it’s a show worth seeing. There’s more action than Godot, and you can almost hum “Everybody’s Got the Right” out into the lobby. I don’t recommend using a gun on an elected official, but November is coming up fast and I’m sure you can find SOMEone to vote against.

For more information on Mad Cow, please visit http://www.madcowtheatre.com

I was dazed and confused when I got around to this one man monologue backed by a totemistic sound man waving reeds. Greg Barris details his experience in Finding Himself in a sensory deprivation tank, and then by taking the hallucinogenic Dimethyltryptamine. He ruminates on his relations with women, why child molesters get caught, and how creating a universal hate of Greg Barris might bring the world together in a way that love never could. It’s late. Very late. But very interesting.

More information on Greg Barris and Rickshaw boy may be found at http://rickshawboy.com/This show is presented as part of the 17th Orlando International Fringe Theater Festival. Information on times, tickets, and venue location my be found at http://OrlandoFringe.org/ <p