A half dozen empty desks sit beneath the funereal aura of fluorescent lights. A shrieking bell signals the end of the school day while a muffled intercom announcement reminds students to gather their bus passes, remember to exit through the rear of the building (thanks to newly installed metal detectors at the front entrance), and, most importantly, “have a safe weekend.” It’s the Friday before a long weekend—MLK Day to be exact—and this is the “worst” high school in the city.

Studio Theatre’s Exception to the Rule opens on Room 111, the site of after-school detention and a claustrophobic vacuum designed by Tony Cisek. Directed by Miranda Haymon, the circumstances of Dave Harris’ 2023 play are deceptively simple. Six Black students are in detention for various reasons gradually to be discovered over the course of the play. But the story reveals a more sinister conceit when faculty supervision never arrives, time begins to lose meaning, and an unknowable threat (what the characters only refer to as “consequences”) awaits anyone who exits Room 111 without permission.

First to enter are Tommy (Steven Taylor Jr.) and Mikayla (Khalia Muhammad), whose flirtatious power game quickly garners contention over Mikayla’s sexual history. They are interrupted by the arrival of three others, the ever-upbeat Dasani (Shana Lee Hill), Mikayla’s ex Dayrin (Jacques Jean-Mary), and lone wolf Abdul (Khouri St.Surin). The students engage in sometimes playful, sometimes cruel banter, but quickly turn their heads to gawk at “first-timer” Erika (Sabrina Lynne Sawyer), whose reputation for overachieving masks a far deeper set of insecurities. As if trapped in a Pandora’s box, these characters oscillate between tension and hope, but relief (like the absentee detention monitor Mr. Bernie) never arrives. 

Exception to the Rule shares qualities with Dominique Morisseau’s Pipeline (produced at Studio in 2019), and Harris seems as inspired by the work of Jordan Peele as he is by the French absurdist Jean-Paul Sartre. As comparisons go, however, Exception to the Rule is not The Breakfast Club. Unlike its all-White counterpart, the notable absence of a coming-of-age narrative only serves to amplify the play’s implicit fatalism, packing a series of gut punches when we most desire salvation for these characters. 

Costume designer Brandee Mathies leans in to Harris’ fascination with stereotypes, while at the same time shedding light on the personal and social lives of these students. For instance, Mikayla wears an out-of-place peasant skirt, a symbol of her objectification via the school’s arbitrary dress code. Erika clings tightly to her slim-fitting cardigan, only to shed her layers later on as if shedding a layer of skin itself. Sound designer Kathy Ruvuna warps the voice of the intercom—the play’s sole adult and only authority figure—to amplify Harris’ themes of miscommunication and absence. Like a broken record, the once-live intercom (voiced by Craig Wallace) shifts to a haunted automation. 

Each character has at least one extended monologue: Dasani’s delirious reinterpretation of Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech; Tommy’s post-traumatic recollection of gun violence, and Erika’s impassioned admittance of the act that earned her detention. The cast truly excels when reading between the lines of their characters’ dialog. Hill ever so slightly crumbles when Dasani is accused of stealing food from the cafeteria; Jean-Mary and St.Surin’s characters earn detention for fighting, but neither Dayrin nor Abdul can truly articulate why. And, finally, when asked about whether she expects Mr. Bernie to arrive sometime before dawn, audiences look hopefully to Muhammad’s Mikayla only to hear her absent-minded “maybe” quickly become a firm “no.” 

Thinking outside the classroom walls, Exception to the Rule is about Black high school students navigating the impenetrable realities of the “school-to-prison pipeline”—finding kinship in their disobedience, losing hope in their authority figures (and adults), and wondering how even “college-bound Erika” could fall victim to this meritocracy. From his meta-examination of minstrelsy in the award-winning Tambo & Bones to last year’s video game-inspired production of Incendiary at Woolly Mammoth, Harris has a fondness for semi-impossible circumstances, locating apt metaphors for racial identity in a mediatized understanding of ordinary life. Studio’s latest production of Harris’ work is no exception to the rule. 

Exception to the Rule, written by Dave Harris and directed by Miranda Haymon, plays at Studio Theatre through Oct. 27. studiotheatre.org. $38–$92.

William Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors arrives at Shakespeare Theatre Company like a ship in the night, but artistic director Simon Godwin’s raucous interpretation is less of a journey than it is a trip. Riding the high of last season’s Macbeth and fighting the current of the company’s attention-grabbing fall alternative—the Matthew Broderick-led Babbitt opening Oct. 1—this high-energy adaptation of Shakespeare’s slept-on comedy is silly, shocking, and a little bit unhinged. But if you’re willing to get on board, Comedy of Errors is exhilarating proof of just how much fun live theater can be.

The play opens on the shores of Ephesus where, on the brink of arrest, Syracusian tradesman Egeon (Timothy D. Stickney) conveniently lays out the nearly impossible set of circumstances that the plot relies on. Featuring a handy-dandy exposition sequence deftly choreographed by Nancy Renee Braun, audiences learn that Egeon and his wife, Emilia, were separated at sea some 20-odd years prior, each taking with them one of their identical twin sons (both named Antipholus), plus one of their identical twin wards (both named Dromio). 

Double-trouble hijinks ensue in real time when the now-grown Antipholus of Syracuse (Christian Thompson) and Dromio of Syracuse (Alex Brightman) arrive in Ephesus and are immediately mistaken for their likenesses, Antipholus of Ephesus (Ralph Adriel Johnson) and Dromio of Ephesus (David Fynn). The Port of Ephesus is staged as a nondescript travelers’ town somewhere along the Mediterranean coast. Made intimate and aglow with the help of Stacey Derosier’s lighting design, scenic designer Ceci Calf’s truncated wharf includes the entryways of the Antipholus household, a local tap house, and the apparitional doors of an abbey. 

From Twelfth Night to Two Gentlemen of Verona, Shakespeare is no stranger to the mistaken-identity plot device, nor does he shy away from the “twins separated at birth” trope as evidenced in Comedy of Errors. While Shakespeare’s dialogue might provide enough context clues for audiences to suspend their disbelief—thus dissolving the need for two sets of identical cast members—STC’s production leans heavily in to visual gags, pulling off a near illusionary feat of misdirection. 

This is not to say that the dually cast actors do not share a passing likeness (Brightman and Fynn more so than Thompson and Johnson), but with the support of Alejo Vietti’s color-coded costume design, the first “bait and switch” of the evening (in which Fynn’s Dromio is mistaken for Brightman’s Dromio) solicits an earnest double take among audience members. Conducive with the production’s Mediterranean steam-punk aesthetic, Vietti puts each of the supporting cast members in foggy shades of mustard yellow, while the Antipholuses don matching white linen suits and the Dromios a deeper shade of red and orange. It may sound rather simple, but this Comedy of Errors is as visually clever as the script itself. The result is an optical pinball effect that amplifies Godwin’s bouncy staging.

Antipholus of Ephesus’ wife, Adriana (Shayvawn Webster), and sister-in-law Luciana (Cloteal L. Horne) provide the ingredients for a love quadrilateral. This production, however, tends to neglect the significance of the extramarital plotline (which also includes Kimberly Dodson as the courtesan Thaisa) in favor of highlighting the leading men. Members of the ensemble (Ro Boddie, Jacob Brandt, Camilo Linares, Paige Rammelkamp, and Pearl Rhein) especially shine when providing instrumental accompaniment for Michael Bruce’s surprisingly catchy score. 

More to the point, Comedy of Errors is funny—really funny. With the occasional dramatic one-off such as Webster’s richly delivered monologue on virtue and infidelity or Fynn’s meaningful reflection on the life of a servant—the show consists of joke after joke after joke. Granted, some of these antics are more excessive than others (including a tried-and-true chase scene through the aisles of the theater), but the play does not pretend to be anything but a farce. And as farces go, this one includes a cackling nun (Amanda Naughton) and an attempted exorcism at the hands of Pinch (Eric Hissom), a “quack” physician whose name holds double, maybe even triple, entendre. 

This fast-paced, sharp-tongued production has a lot going for it: It’s clever, energetic, and easy to find unconventional heroism in its characters. But at the end of the day, the show is a vehicle for just how talented Brightman and Fynn truly are. With several Broadway and West End credits to boast, the two actors  play their respective Dromios with such awe-inducing sincerity it is difficult to tell if the production would have succeeded without this casting. These scene-stealers are two parts of a hilarious and heartwarming whole—easy proof here that double the pleasure equals double the fun. 

William Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors, directed by Simon Godwin, has been extended and now runs through Oct. 20 at Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Klein Theatre. Fall Arts Guide Rating: 5 out of 5 stars. shakespearetheatre.org. $37–$193.

“You are allowed to laugh audibly” reads a note from playwright Dominique Morisseau’s “Rules of Engagement, excerpted in Studio Theatre’s program for The Colored Museum. Morisseau’s note is a reminder to audiences that, despite the toxicity they might encounter in the 11 vignettes that compose George C. Wolfe’s play, the story is fundamentally satirical. Arguably one of the most incisive and methodical satires of the 20th century, The Colored Museum invites audiences to sit with discomfort and embrace humor openly as they confront the absurd contradictions of what it means to be Black in America.

Needless to say, laughter abounded throughout the audience the night I saw The Colored Museum, directed by Psalmayene 24 and playing at Studio through Aug. 11. Wolfe’s play features a series of satirical sketches presented as though exhibits in a museum. A commentary on the coloniality of museums themselves, these episodes depict various themes and stories about Black American life and history—ranging from questions of artistic assimilation and representation to enslavement. Under Psalm’s careful but abundantly creative direction—and with an ironically carnivalesque aesthetic—the production casts light onto that which is inherently ridiculous and ill-conceived throughout these histories. 

Upon entering the theater, audiences are greeted by a display of artwork inspired by Wolfe’s play and constructed by visual arts students at Duke Ellington School of the Arts. Moving further into the theater, Natsu Onoda Power (credited here as environmental designer rather than set designer) has constructed a multifaceted museum display complete with equal elements of panache and voyeurism. From a semi-urban living room to a boudoir and the jungles of Vietnam, these seamlessly transitioning design elements are aided by Kelly Colburn’s vivid but nuanced projections, which just as easily summon Black iconography as they do a sense of anonymity. Yet, it is the layout of the audience itself that holds the most political edge. What at first feels like an arbitrary replacement of traditional theater seats with plywood benches is quickly understood to represent the hold of a cargo ship from which, in a jarring moment, Ayanna Bria Bakari introduces herself as Miss Pat, our rosy cruise attendant aboard the “Celebrity Slaveship.”

After earning accolades as a playwright with the 1986 premiere of The Colored Museum, five-time Tony Award winner Wolfe rose to further theatrical acclaim after directing parts one and two of Tony Kushner’s Angels in America on Broadway in 1993 and 1994. In 2020, he directed the film adaptation of August Wilson’s Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom starring Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman. While Wolfe is more publicly recognized as a director than a playwright, The Colored Museum demonstrates an impenetrable vision through which the theatergoers’ relationship to the events of stage is explored from the get-go. 

On the night I attended, about three-quarters of the audience was White, calling to mind Wolfe’s recommendation that “The best houses are half-Black and half-White. There’s a dangerous tension that has to resolve itself in laughter.” Wolfe feels more interested in exploring and embracing tension than in any attempts to resolve such tension, and suggests there is no better way of doing so in this play than the collective responses of laughter and awe. Notably, Studio will also host a Black Out Night on July 26 to honor and prioritize Black theatergoers’ experiences more fully. With the intent to impact, challenge, and at times radicalize those who attend his plays, Wolfe says in a 1986 interview that “In many respects, the central character of [The Colored Museum] is the audience.” 

That is not to say that this excellent cast of five (Bakari, Kelli Blackwell, Iris Beaumier, Matthew Elijah Webb, and William Oliver Watkins) did not step up to the task at hand. Standout performances included Watkins and Webb playing two parts of the same person in a face-off examination of assimilatory Blackness, and the perfectly timed Blackwell, astonished to find herself in the midst of an argument with her two talking wigs. Plus, Beaumier dazzles as the Black diva Lala Lamazing Grace, but just as easily accesses this character’s vulnerability during one of the play’s few instances of visible tenderness imparted by child actor Ruth Benson in a cameo appearance. 

Far and away this play’s most scathing indictment of American theater is a vignette entitled “The Last Mama-on-the-Couch Play,” a not-so-subtle parody of Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun. This pastiche is not a criticism of Hansberry’s work (a pioneering Black woman playwright who Wolfe greatly admires, but who at the time faced pushback for downplaying Black radicalism), but rather a means to examine and to push the work further. As the actors battle over whose storyline is the most tragic, they similarly grapple for a literal Oscar statue, claiming victory for each overindulgent monologue and gratuitous development in this play-within-a-play. 

With a live soundtrack by Kysia Bostic and with Jabari Exum as the production’s onstage drummer (pulling double duty as a nighttime museum security guard), the play has a mellifluous quality to it as well. This culminates into a final musical number only described by Wolfe as a “vocal and visual cacophony, which builds and builds” toward embracing contradictions and finding power in righteous madness. Produced with electric vitality, this damning satire enters a new century at Studio Theatre. But at the end of the day, The Colored Museum refuses to consider itself another artifact, looking instead toward a more constructive social future. 

The Colored Museum, written by George C. Wolfe and directed by Psalmayene 24, plays at Studio Theater through Aug. 11; Black Out Night starts at 8 p.m. on July 26. studiotheatre.org. $25-$114.

Constellation Theatre Company plays with fire in Aleshea Harris’ scintillating tragi-comedy Is God Is. Winner of the 2016 Relentless Award and a 2017 OBIE Award for playwriting, Harris’ play weaves biblical mythology and hip-hop into a road epic about twin sisters on the brink of vengeance. Fiercely directed by KenYatta Rogers, Is God Is is unapologetically twisted, darkly funny, and wildly entertaining. 

The play begins, as the script details, in the deep “Dirty” South—a blazing inferno, where out of the fire step the play’s soon-to-be antiheroes Anaia (Morgan Danielle Day) and Racine (Devin Nikki Thomas). Early dialogue reveals these fraternal twin sisters wear the physical scars of a house fire that took place years earlier. Aided by Alison Samantha Johnson’s makeup design, Racine’s scars remain primarily on her back while Anaia’s are significantly more visible. 

The plot escalates with unprecedented speed as Anaia and Racine respond to a letter from their mother (Jasmine Joy), who they believed had died years ago. The sisters refer to her as “God,” but when they finally meet face-to-face, God is confined to a standing hospital bed, snarled with medical cables and moments from death. Navigating her character’s physical restrictions, Joy is hilarious and shattering as the dictatorial matriarch. During an expository but nevertheless seminal monologue, God reveals who started the fire all those years ago. While this damning monologue is well-delivered, a simultaneous and largely unnecessary sequence of shadow-puppetry occupies much of the audience’s attention—a misleading venture from which the play quickly recovers.

Harris’ Afropunk odyssey additionally serves as a biting examination of cyclical violence.

When all is said and done, God has but one request: “Make your daddy dead dead dead” and to leave a path of destruction in his wake. Reluctant at first, Anaia and Racine promptly head west.

James J. Johnson supports the cast as Chuck Hall, a has-been lawyer with a sordid past and a love of bermuda shorts. Michelle Proctor Rogers plays Angie, a scorching soccer mom with revenge plans of her own. Ethan Hart and Corbin Ford skillfully depict the play’s second set of twins Riley and Scotch (yes, named after the alcohol), respectively, and finally actor ELI EL conjures up a spine-chilling shadow of a man and the final stop on this journey of revenge. 

Choreographer Ama Law infuses hip-hop sequences between scenes—making Constellation’s production feel less like a “road play” and more like a fast-paced hallucination. The sound design by nick tha 1da uses nostalgic beats, while simultaneously eliciting the same phantasmagorical intensity of the script itself. John D. Alexander’s smoky-hued lighting design is consistently impressive while scenic designer Shartoya R. Jn.Baptiste navigates the difficulties of placing Harris’ large-scale epic on a black box stage. The set is initially conceived as a cavernous, rustic shell but Jn.Baptiste adds more and more realistic details with each new location—transporting audiences from a barren field in the Southern United States to a dollhouse-like abode at the top of a hill. The overall design is commendable, if not overpopulated. 

Lest anyone underestimate how violent this play actually gets, Casey Kaleba’s fight choreography supports this production’s tricky but effective juxtaposition of the physically gruesome and the comically absurd. Equipped with nothing but a “rock in a sock,” Anaia and Racine are recklessly determined and Day and Thomas are tirelessly entertaining in these roles. Each the dramatic foil to the other, Thomas wins our attention easily as the daring and athletic Racine, while Day casts a more surreptitious spell over audiences as the childlike Anaia. Costumed by Danielle Preston, the young women teeter between girlhood and adulthood—at one point symbolically trading their overalls and T-shirts for expensive lingerie.

Harris’ script is exceptional, there is no doubt. But with so much to tackle in this play, it is also easy to see where a production could go wrong. Thankfully, Rogers strikes balance between violence and comedy, and this 95-minute saga is fully wrought with action, emotion, and intrigue. Constellation’s production may be a little hazardous but it has a rare magnetism not to mention a drop-dead cast.  

Constellation Theatre Company presents Is God Is, written by Aleshea Harris and directed by KenYatta Rogers, runs through July 14 at Source Theatre. constellationtheatre.org. $20–$45.

Words matter. And in Jacqueline Bircher’s Webster’s Bitch, they truly cut deep. From Disney evoking its First Amendment right to fire actor Gina Carano over hateful social media posts to J.K. Rowling’s damaging and backward stance against trans lives, is it even worth it to ask if words have no impact on the world around us? The latest show at Keegan Theatre has an answer: bitch, please.

Webster’s Bitch begins in a routine administrative office in Stamford, Connecticut. Lexicographers at Webster’s Dictionary Gwen (Fabiolla Da Silva) and Nick (Andrés F. Roa) are on a tight deadline, only to be distracted by a visit from prototypical Gen Z-er, Gwen’s sister Ellie (Irene Hamilton). Feeling neglected by Gwen’s work ethic, Ellie has only two goals in mind: Drink margaritas and say goodbye to her sister before heading to Nepal to advocate for women’s health care. Hamilton’s comic abilities are a piquant match for the otherwise stoic lexicographers. Breaking news on Ellie’s Twitter feed, however, reveals the real drama when Webster’s editor-in-chief Frank (Timothy H. Lynch) is caught on video referring to his colleague Joyce (Sheri S. Herren) as “his bitch.” At this point, the play somersaults into a debate worthy of the “front lines of radical internet feminism.” 

Attempting to solve their unfolding PR dilemma, these characters do what any great lexicographer would. They turn to the dictionary. The trouble is Webster’s definition of “bitch” doesn’t quite fit the context of Frank’s statement (what is the difference between “a bitch” versus “my bitch”?), prompting further questions about who gets to define a term, who gets to use that term, and finally, on whose terms does anyone get to do either? 

Under Susan Marie Rhea’s musing yet quirky direction, Webster’s Bitch examines the role of language in everyday power dynamics. The play dances between a workplace comedy (“Wait, you’ve never read Harry Potter?”) and a thesis on feminist linguistics (“An entire subset of the English language has evolved under the predication that it’s inherently offensive to be a woman.”). Yet, well-developed characters and candid dialogue give the actors plenty of great material to draw from—always a delight to see. The initial conflict is reminiscent of Selina Fillinger’s POTUS, in which seven women cope with the aftermath of the President of the United States referring to his wife as a “cunt.” But all vulgarities aside, Webster’s Bitch trades POTUS’s hijinks for a more nuanced interrogation of what such words and actions actually mean for and about the women they refer to.

Matthew J. Keenan and Cindy Landrum Jacobs bedeck an otherwise stationary yet detailed set with cascades of dictionary pages. Like the work of the lexicographers who seek to rapidly adapt the dictionary’s terms to a changing social climate, these pages reach continual heights, somehow always out of reach. The constant ringing of an office landline further threatens this pigeonholed oasis, bringing Webster’s Dictionary into the likes of a tabloid scandal. 

Cunning linguists as they are, each character is under constant threat of manipulation, but only some are bold enough to speak the truth aloud. Clear and concise subtext can service a play in unexpected ways and this is no better demonstrated than with Joyce, an assertive albeit harsh woman who faced years of serial harassment in the workplace only to be publicly belittled at the apex of her career. Then there’s Gwen, a cat-loving careerist who can’t seem to give herself the credit she so desperately desires from others. When, even amid the chaos of the scandal, Gwen demands equal pay from Joyce to that of a man-identifying coworker, these women’s nose-to-nose stakes are as cringe-inducing as they are applause-worthy. 

Webster’s Bitch aims to unpack a linguistic conundrum, but at times feels like an overextended metaphor. The plot tends to spring for cliches, but Bircher’s refreshingly intergenerational dynamic solicits just the right amount of discord and camaraderie (not to mention sprachgefühl—the German word for an intuitive love and feel for language) to truly wonder why these women would choose to leave or stay at Webster’s. Unlike most representations of onstage misogyny, Bircher’s play is a woman-navigated consideration of toxic masculinity in the workplace—a topic that often gets swept under the rug with an apology; here it becomes etched in stone. Without a definitive ending, Keegan’s production invites audiences to consider what lies ahead for the women we’ve met, rather than dwell in verbose consequences for a soon-to-be inconsequential man. 

Webster’s Bitch, written by Jacqueline Bircher and directed by Susan Marie Rhea, runs through May 5 at Keegan Theatre. keegantheatre.com. $45–$55.

Updated June 10: The latter half of D.C.’s theater season announcements sees more than a few things left unauthorized, untitled, and soon to be determined. Four more theaters have announced their 2024-2025 seasons, where new works, new concepts, and new ideas abound—but there are a few blank spaces left to be filled in.

Arena Stage opens with the New York hit Jaja’s African Hair Braiding by Jocelyn Bioh on September 6. John Leguizamo’s The Other Americans takes the next slot, in co-production with the Public Theater. Arena’s upcoming season will also bring the “fast-paced techno-thriller” Data by Matthew Libby plus new adaptations of three classics: Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile, Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence, adapted by Karen Zacarias, and A Wrinkle in Time, adapted by Lauren Yee (who, in 2023, had two plays produced in D.C. including her 2018 hit, Cambodian Rock Band, at Arena; her 2014 play, The Hatmaker’s Wife, is currently running at Theater J). For the TBD section of Arena’s upcoming season, two titles have yet to be announced: an untitled Tarrell Alvin Mcraney play and a new musical. With so much left to be determined, but much to look forward to, these TBAs give new meaning to the final title on this list, Larissa Fasthorse’s Fake it Till You Make it.

With a full-scale library reopening on their to-do list this summer, Folger Theatre returned to their home space in 2023 to much acclaim. In the new season titled “Whose Democracy?”, Folger Theatre brings the delights of Romeo and Juliet, directed by Raymond O. Caldwell, A Room in the Castle by Lauren Gunderson (formerly presented as a staged-reading in 2023), and Twelfth Night to their stage. 

Signature Theatre not only announced a new season but also an entirely new brand identity complete with a snazzy new website. Associate artistic director Ethan Heard directs David Henry Hwang and Jeanine Tesori‘s Soft Power beginning Aug. 6, followed by Eboni Booth’s Primary Trust and later on by Max Wolf Friedlich’s Job. Stephen Sondheim’s early work A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, with book by Burt Shevelove and Larry Gelbart, fills the theater’s necessary “Sondheim slot.” Finally, the back-to-back listings of In the Heights, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and The Untitled Unauthorized Hunter S. Thompson Musical remind us of Signature’s powerhouse capacity for producing musicals in D.C. 

Woolly Mammoth took a page from the London theater playbook and deliberately announced only the shows it will present through the end of the 2024 calendar year, leaving space for high-demand productions and last-minute opportunities for exciting new work. On June 4, the theater revealed its summer and fall lineup, which features a New York Times critic’s pick from Branden Jacobs–Jenkins, The Comeuppance, and a new show with the Second City titled Dance Like There’s Black People Watching. The year starts early with a summer production of Julia Masli’s ha ha ha ha ha ha ha beginning July 17 and will also include a special presentation of a new work exploring the testimonies of Anita Hill and Christine Blasey Ford.

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Updated May 6: Studio Theatre’s 2024-2025 season kicks off in September as Philadelphia playwright Dave Harris makes a return to D.C. with Exception to the Rule (an up-and-coming talent, Harris’ Incendiary ran at Woolly Mammoth in 2023). David Auburn (of Proof fame)’s Summer, 1976 will star Holly Twyford and Kate Eastwood Norris—legendary locals who will similarly share the stage in Round House’s Bad Books later on in the year. Studio’s artistic director David Muse will direct Downstate by Bruce Norris, who holds a Tony and a Pulitzer for his 2011 play, Clybourne Park. The season also includes a world premiere courtesy of Matthew Capodicasa’s The Scenarios, plus Dominique Morisseau’s Paradise Blue (directed by Theater Alliance’s outgoing producing artistic director Raymond O. Caldwell), and Wipeout by Aurora Real de Asua (directed by Studio’s associate artistic director Danilo Gambini). With plenty of familiar faces and some notable new ones, Studio once again commits to championing new works and celebrating great ones.

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Across the DMV, theater fans are buzzing with the anticipation of what will take center stage in the 2024–25 season. Programming for the current season (2023–24) will run through the early summer, but several local theaters have already made grand gestures to announce and promote their upcoming season. This year features world premieres, Broadway transfers, and more than one noteworthy name in the process.

Last year, we highlighted some of the key takeaways for the current season, noting that D.C. theaters were gearing up for a “long journey ahead” to recover from the pandemic. In September, City Paper contributor Jared Strange offered readers a closer look into the high-stakes process, acknowledging that “regional nonprofit theaters across the country are facing a serious financial pinch, prompting some to lay off staff, some to pause programming, and others to close down entirely. […] It’s down to leaders and staff to thread a tricky programmatic needle while balancing the books.” 

Yet, unexpected trends and surprises continue to shake up the industry. The summer months, for instance, witnessed heavy disparagement regarding what appears to be an ever-escalating crisis in the American theater. From the Washington Post and the New York Times to select features in American Theatre, the financial struggles faced by the nonprofit theater industry, plus a growing hesitancy from many audiences to return, were met with a “doom and gloom” mentality by reporters. Meanwhile, gems such as Annalisa Dias’ “Decomposition Instead of Collapse” offered a more hopeful yet cautionary point of view. Theaters across the country are responding to these warnings, with some facing the brunt of these articles’ critiques more than others. 

Over the past year in D.C., nonprofit theaters witnessed leadership step down, while new faces stepped up. Some venues reopened, others closed. The Professional Non-Profit Theater Coalition headed to Capitol Hill in September, and on April 9, the Supporting Theater and the Arts to Galvanize the Economy (STAGE) Act hit the Senate floor. Finally, at the end of 2023, longtime theater critic Peter Marks announced his resignation from the Post, prompting many in the theater world to fear for the city’s future investment in arts journalism.

So where are we now? Local theaters are pulling out bells and whistles for this go-around: star-studded casts, Broadway mega-musicals, and huge funding opportunities. All these efforts seek to leave an impression on an industry in need of support. While only a sprinkling of announcements have been released as of April 15, each of the following season lineups holds promise, pizzazz, and an overwhelming amount of inertia after a year of pushback. 

In whatever downtime existed between The Lehman Trilogy and their much-awaited off-site production of Macbeth, Shakespeare Theatre Company couldn’t wait to share the news that film actor and Broadway darling Matthew Broderick will make his STC debut in the Sinclair Lewis-adapted satire Babbitt this October. Artistic director Simon Godwin will direct a whopping three plays next season, including the 2024–25 opener, Comedy of Errors, premiering Sept. 10 and featuring Alex Brightman and David Fynn; a new version of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya starring Hugh Bonneville (of Downton Abbey fame); and All the Devils Are Here: How Shakespeare Invented the Villain, which welcomes 2023’s King Lear, Patrick Page, back to STC after his Broadway run of the same production. Rounding out the company’s season will be Tom Stoppard’s recent Tony winner Leopoldstadt, John Kani’s Kunene and the King, and a new adaptation of Frankenstein by Emily Burns.  

Elsewhere in the region, Round House Theatre announced their season will open in September with Mfoniso Udofia’s Sojourners, directed by Valerie Curtis–Newton. Udofia is also one of Round House’s Equal Play commissioned playwrights, an initiative that seeks to combat ongoing financial inequities while encouraging underrepresented voices in the American theater. A Hanukkah Carol, or GELT TRIP! The Musical resumes its place in the holiday slot after last year’s last-minute omission. Heidi Schreck’s celebrated solo show, What the Constitution Means to Me, makes its D.C. premiere, though the director and lead actor have yet to be announced. Part of the National Capital New Play Festival, Sharyn Rothstein’s Bad Books, which was previously presented as a reading during the 2023 festival, will star local acting legends Kate Eastwood Norris and Holly Twyford, who we just saw in Studio Theatre‘s At the Wedding. Finally, Round House’s 2024–25 season concludes with Pulitzer Prize finalist Rajiv Joseph’s King James, a moving story about unexpected friendships and the vitality of sports fandom.

Olney Theatre Company kicks off fall of 2024 with a political opener, Eisenhower: This Piece of Ground, opening Sept. 27, followed by three lighthearted romps: Disney’s Frozen: The Musical; Sara Bareilles’ Broadway hit Waitress; and the American premiere of Matilda Feyiṣayọ Ibini’s Sleepova. Knowing a good time when it sees one, Olney Theatre follows suit with a world premiere musical: Joriah Kwamé’s Little Miss Perfect, plus Ins Choi’s Kim’s Convenience (inspiration for the Netflix series of the same name). Olney will also present A Chrismas Carol during the holiday months, and their main stage will host the now-homeless Synetic Theater’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream during the summer of 2025. 

Theatre J continues to center Jewish voices in and beyond the D.C. community with the regional premiere of Joshua Harmon’s Prayer for the French Republic, which opens Oct. 30. New artistic director Hayley Finn programs two solo performances in the 2024–25 season with Ari’el Stachel’s Out of Character (co-produced with Mosaic Theatre) and the return of Sun Mee Chomet’s How to Be a Korean Woman after a brief run in 2023. Plus, back-to-back dramas, José Rivera’s Your Name Means Dream and Andrea Stolowitz’s The Berlin Diaries, which speak independently to the nature of intergenerational trauma and connection within the Jewish community. 

The most recent to announce (beyond its co-pro with Theatre J), Mosaic Theatre Company will kick off its 10th anniversary season on Sept. 5 when it takes audiences back to 1959 for a rendezvous with the incomparable Billie Holiday in Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill, which will be staged as an immersive cabaret. Produced in partnership with the Laboratory for Global Performance and Politics at Georgetown University, The Art of Care promises to create an unmissable theatrical event with an all-star D.C. cast. Erika Dickerson–Despenza’s cullud wattah addresses the still-unresolved clean water crisis in Flint, Michigan, and Brent Askari’s Andy Warhol in Iran stages a political comedy about the power of artistry. Both pieces promise to challenge the confines of linear time to help better the “here and now.”

Several of our local big-name theaters have yet to pull back the curtain on next season, but in the meantime, there’s plenty left of the 2023–24 season to look forward to—not to mention the upcoming Helen Hayes Awards on May 20, which could heighten the intrigue for the productions already on this list. From Woolly Mammoth to Studio, Arena Stage to Folger, this list will continue to grow. But as any eager audience member knows, anticipation can be half the pleasure.

Loosely inspired by William Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure and with book and lyrics by Peter Kellogg and music by David Friedman, Constellation Theatre Company’s Desperate Measures brings this religious caper to merciless new territory. Directed with out-of-the-box intuition by Allison Arkell Stockman, Desperate Measures is an ace-high twist on the bard’s comedy, rewritten here as a raucous musical parable of  the Wild West. The script avoids taking itself too seriously, but this irreverent, sexy, silly musical is seriously funny.

Because Measure for Measure ends in marriage, it’s technically considered one of Shakespeare’s comedies (it’s also been dubbed one of his problem plays). But as morally perplexing as it may be, Measure for Measure isn’t exactly known for its hee-haws. The plot follows that, intending to save her brother Claudio from untimely execution, novitiate nun Isabella faces an unusual proposition: sleep with the regent of Vienna or watch her brother be hanged. Unable to sacrifice her virtue, Isabella teams up with a Duke in disguise as they conspire to break the deck of injustice and set Claudio free. 

Cue the kick-line, however, because the 2004 Drama Desk Award-winning Desperate Measures isn’t just packing hee-haws, it’s fully equipped with yee-haws too. In the unannexed Arizona Territory, audiences meet the notorious Johnny Blood (Hunter Ringsmith). Complete with an eponymous bluegrass ballad, Johnny is the narrative parallel to Shakespeare’s Claudio, quickly imprisoned for his crimes and sentenced to death. Ringsmith is especially clever and authentic in this role, whisking us away from the harshness of his predicament with the simple reminder, “it’s good to be alive.”

Sympathetic toward Johnny’s unfair judgment, Sheriff Martin Green (Tyler Dobies) seeks the help of Johnny’s estranged sister and soon-to-be nun, Susanna (skillfully played by understudy Julia Link for two weekends in February). But the musical’s real concern is that when Dobies’ too-cool-to-care Sheriff meets gun-slinging Susanna, their hearts practically beat out of their chests. Susanna agrees to speak to Governor Von Richterhenkenpflichtgetruber on her brother’s behalf but, just like in Measure for Measure, the governor offers Johnny’s freedom in exchange for Susanna’s chastity. As his full name might suggest, Governor Von Richterhenkenpflichtgetruber is a quintessential mustache-twirling, slow-clapping, power-hungry “bad guy” hilariously embodied by Greg Watkins, whose German accent is comically inconsistent but whose vocal talent is exhilarating. 

Susanna and Sheriff Green risk multiple lives when they enlist the help of snazzy saloon girl Bella (Nina Sophia Pacheco)—who also happens to be Johnny’s betrothed—to pull off a feat of Shakespearean proportions. When the lights go out in the Governor’s bedroom, Susanna and Bella will switch places so that Bella and not Susanna is the one to do the deed, so to speak. Not only does this plan make perfect sense to everyone, it also goes off without a hitch. But the narrative doesn’t end here; trust gets broken, unexpected feelings arise, and, after all this, we are still promised a wedding. 

Spirits run high with Bobby Libby as the play’s “moral compass” Father Morse—a perpetually drunk clergyman and Friedrich Nietzsche aficionado. Aided by Stockman’s direction, Nikki Mirza’s unexpectedly stylish choreography, and Refiye Tappan’s skillful music direction, Desperate Measures demonstrates an inventive spirit of collaboration, and an abundance of individual talent. Samuel Klaas’ picture-perfect, saloon-inspired set design consists of an endless series of trapdoors and surprises. Throw in E–hui’s lighting design and Kevin Alexander’s sound design, this kitschy vision of the Wild West uses every trick in the book—saloon brawls, duel draws, and ricocheting bullets. The musical’s aesthetic is unironically and unabashedly cartoonesque in that cartoons are expressive, imaginative, and can be enjoyed by people of all ages. (Notably, the program note reminds “not included are any archetypal or caricatured Native Americans—thank goodness” at the same time pointing out whose stories go untold in Desperate Measures). 

With its jovial score, scandalous plot, and energetic performances all around, Desperate Measures is aesthetically vivid and pliable like old-school animation. If singing cowboys are not enough to drive that point home, every bit of dialog is written in rhyming limerick. In fairness, the resolution feels a little too easy, and the play heavily relies on a wink-nudge effect (“Blame Will Shakespeare, not [us]”). But with mighty big shoes to fill, Constellation Theatre opts for a pair of stirrups insead—and the result is a painstaking delight. 

Constellation Theatre Company’s Desperate Measures, inspired by William Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, with book and lyrics by Peter Kellogg, music by David Friedman, and direction by Allison Arkell Stockman, runs through March 17 at Source Theatre. constellationtheatre.org. $20–$55.

For years, nothing could interfere with the “old friends” of Stephen Sondheim and George Furth’s 1981 musical Merrily We Roll Along. As would-be Broadway creators Frank (Ryan Burke), his longtime collaborator Charley (Harrison Smith), and their confidante Mary (Sarah Chapin) age over 20 years, their dreams of professionally writing and composing for the Great White Way become reality. The trouble is Frank’s lust for success begins to drive a wedge between the trio. But because all great lessons must only be learned in retrospect, this musical begins at the end of Frank’s career.

Inspired by the 1934 George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart play of the same name, the musical version of Merrily We Roll Along moves backward in time to unpack the beginnings of Frank, Charley, and Mary’s notorious friendship gone wrong. Sondheim and director Harold Prince first attempted to stage the musical on Broadway in 1981. However, the production quickly flopped, running for a mere 16 performances. The duo went so far as to cast teenage actors in the adult roles, hoping to inspire youthful energy, but failing to deliver believable performances. Despite a number of revisions since its premiere, most of the musical’s criticism falls to its tightly wound plot structure, which unfortunately tends to restrict any kind of character payoff or climax in return. 

Operating like a nostalgia-fueled daydream, the musical is nevertheless fundamentally charming, and more and more theater-makers seem to be taking up the puzzle Sondheim himself couldn’t solve. Thanks to the current star-studded Broadway remount headed by Daniel Radcliffe, Jonathan Groff, and Lindsay Mendez, Merrily We Roll Along has rightfully reclaimed its place as a must-see musical. But with New York prices as high as $499 per ticket, the story’s concern with artists who “sell out” suddenly holds a double meaning. 

Luckily for local audiences, Sondheim’s underappreciated classic has found a temporary home at the Keegan Theatre, whose genuine and terrifically sung production of Merrily We Roll Along runs through March. As the lights rise on the prologue, the ensemble gaze straight at the audience and repeatedly warn: “never look back.” This advice is promptly ignored when the now 40-year-old Frank descends the platforms of set designer Matthew J. Keenan’s multitiered proscenium to discover a photo album presumably filled with snapshots of his two best friends and the memories they shared. For co-directors Christina A. Coakley and Jennifer J. Hopkins, this framing device is an effective way to ease audiences into Sondheim’s complicated musical, which henceforth becomes a series of Frank’s memories that roll out in reverse. 

Merrily We Roll Along’s plot begins in 1976 as a glamorous but cheeky cast of social climbers congregate in Frank’s Hollywood home to offer shallow congratulations for his blockbuster film Darkness Before Dawn. The mood in the room quickly sours at the mention of the now Pulitzer-winning playwright Charles Kringas—aka Charley. That is quickly followed by a string of drunken insults Mary heaves at Frank and his guests before storming off for good. 

Moving forward through the script and backward in time, the audience meets the trio at a TV studio in 1973; at Frank’s apartment in 1968; in front of a courthouse where Frank’s ex-wife, Beth, sues for custody of their child; opening night of Charley and Frank’s first Broadway musical; a swanky New York penthouse; a dingy Greenwich Village nightclub; and, finally, a rooftop in Manhattan in 1957 as three young artists look up at the stars and outward at the future. While the musical’s narrative processes backward, as Mary tells Frank early on in the script, the most important thing is knowing how to move forward. 

With just a handful of set pieces and a platform stage immersed in newspaper clippings, the 10-person ensemble bleeds into the end of each scene, singing the recurrent theme “Merrily We Roll Along.” Elizabeth Morton’s retro-inspired costumes dazzle as cast members intermittently appear in feathers, flares, and miniskirts. Jeremy Bennett’s projections offer additional texture to Keenan and Cindy Landrum Jacobs newspaper-mache set-design, as images of the New York skyline ferry audiences across decades to real and imagined locations. 

Despite the Keegan Theatre’s unique scenic concept, energetic ensemble, and memorable performances from supporting characters such as Brigid Wallace Harper as Beth, Sumié Yotsukura as Gussie, and Duane Richards II as Joe, the success of this production primarily rests on the shoulders of its three exceptional leads. 

Radcliffe, Groff, and Mendez may be quite the Broadway dream team (the New York Times calls them “perfectly cast”), but with a script as convoluted as Merrily We Roll Along, the three leading roles must always be perfectly cast. Characters that require nuance, compassion, and humility—not to mention a masterful interpretation of some of Sondheim’s most difficult songs—Charley, Frank, and Mary each demand serious musical theater chops. On that front, Keegan delivers.

Burke’s performance as Frank is humble but with added gravitas where the situation calls for it. He also approaches Frank’s inevitable downfall with an abundance of intuition. Chapin, who wholly encapsulates Mary with a touch of smirk and glowing charisma, gives a stunning performance of the underrated gem “Old Friends—Like It Was.” And Smith could likely sing the phone book and it would sound terrific—and with Charley’s intricate patter song “Franklin Shepherd, Inc.,” he comes fairly close to doing exactly that. Needless to say, Smith nails it. 

The play revels in moments fixated on their friendship. Chemistry runs in all directions with this trio and the cast does excellent work to represent various age ranges and perspectives. Proving that three heads are better than one, these outstanding actors gracefully share the spotlight and, frankly, listen and respond to one another in such a way that makes each individual performance stronger. 

Keegan Theatre’s strong rendition of a difficult play indicates that the Sondheim hype is here to stay. This brilliantly acted homegrown production celebrates friendship, artistry, and authenticity from ending to beginning. 

Merrily We Roll Along, with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, book by George Furth, and co-directed by Christina A. Coakley and Jennifer J. Hopkins, runs through March 10 at Keegan Theatre. keegantheatre.com. $55–$65.

We Happy Few’s Kill the Ripper is an edgy, nerdy, scandalous romp through Victorian London. Fairlith Harvey’s play calls for three savvy and well-equipped ladies-of-the-night to take charge and take out Jack the Ripper himself. Yet as the story progresses, these women face more immediate challenges and seize every opportunity to stay alive.  

The play begins in a London corridor in 1888. Unidentified serial killer Jack the Ripper is at large, primarily targeting women sex workers in the East End. Kit (Paige O’Malley) and Pudding (Bri Houtman) are two such colleagues and the best of friends, but when a random act of violence puts each woman at risk, they take matters into their own hands. Drawing the attention of Viola (Gabby Wolfe), this newfound trio forms a pact to protect themselves and each other at all costs. Aided by Megan Behm’s mildly slapstick direction and Casey Kaleba’s top-notch fight choreography, Kill the Ripper is a lesson in self defense. Kit, Pudding, and Viola must defend themselves against Jack the Ripper and restore justice to the many women he struck down and silenced. 

Returning to the feminist-revenge trope after co-starring in last year’s Dracula, Houtman brings feisty energy to the optimistic Pudding. She never reduces the character’s optimism to naivete and embraces the strength Pudding holds in the face of many injustices acted against her. With the hope of one day playing Juliet on stage, Pudding is a vivacious dreamer with ambition. As threats toward the women escalate throughout the play, we learn that Pudding’s bite is in fact worse than her bark. 

O’Malley plays the confident and tender leader of the pack. Kit is a lovable cynic, but her cunning and charismatic nature keeps the demons at bay. While she is initially resistant to change, Kit nevertheless accepts and embraces Viola as a friend—and possibly something more. O’Malley delves into Harvey’s scandalous script without hesitation and her physical comedy is a true scene-stealer. 

As the newest addition to the trio, Wolfe is charming as the oddball ingenue Viola. What Viola may lack in Christian virtue, she makes up for in virtuosity. While she plays the more traditional heroine out of the three women, Wolfe gives a performance that is bubbly, engaging, and rib-ticklingly clever.

Robert Pike single-handedly supports the cast in an endless rotation of men’s roles. He impressively navigates this onslaught of men, appearing in each scene in a new costume by Madi Wentela. Playing everything from a cad to a john to a gentleman caller, his standout characters include Shakespearean wannabe Charles and Viola’s favorite patron, Percival, a whimsical adult man with a signature fetish. Percival might be the marrying type, but for Viola, he is simply “too peculiar.” These two men represent only part of the equation. 

While Charles and Pervical turn out to be worthy confidants, there are other men lurking in the shadows. As Kit plainly puts it, “any man we go with has the luxury of killing us if it strikes the fancy.” Therein lies the horror story behind the play. Jack the Ripper could be anyone and everyone these women encounter. 

Bloody surprises and whisperings of the grotesque haunt the London streets, but We Happy Few’s irreverent production jumps in with both feet. Megan Holden’s simple Victorian set design sets the stage for this intimate and contemporary retelling of a legendary fish story. Jason Aufdem–Brinke’s lighting design creates chilling silhouettes that shroud identities and produce shivering transitions between scenes. 

Self-described “nerd-lesque” artist Harvey likely has a penchant for true crime, but this feminist revenge tragedy is a promising pièce de résistance. For every insidious moment, Kill the Ripper responds with blood-pumping laughter. This fun and funny play explores women’s friendships, embraces the weird sides of intimacy, and will surprise and delight audiences. 

We Happy Few’s Kill the Ripper, written by Fairlith Harvey and directed by Megan Behm, runs through Nov. 18 at the Capitol Hill Arts Workshop. wehappyfewdc.com. $10–$45.

Inspired by true events, Agreste (Drylands) is a lyrical Brazilian drama, originally written in Portuguese by Newton Moreno in 2004. Newly translated to English and directed by Danilo Gambini at Spooky Action Theatre, Agreste (Drylands) considers the impact of intolerance toward trans lives. Despite the fraught subject, this production’s four performers and stellar design team bring gentleness and passion to Moreno’s folkloric tale about queer love and the violent response of some. Told in just under 75 minutes, Spooky Action’s haunting new production has an impact that will be felt when the stage lights dim for the final time.

Making his D.C. directorial debut, Gambini, the current associate artistic director at Studio Theatre and a Brazil native, directs Agreste (Drylands) at Spooky Action with the utmost respect for Moreno’s play, which intends to stage restorative justice in a post-dictatorship Brazil. A project roughly five years in the making for Gambini, this U.S. premiere is a promising testament to the many ways storytelling can define a culture and transcend theatrical borders. 

To open, the audience is invited to sit on either side of a gallery space and everyone is offered a cup of cachaca, a Brazilian liquor made from fermented sugarcane juice, by one of the four performers. The chiming of a cathedral bell signals the start of the play and the atmosphere transitions as actors (Raghad Almakhlouf, Irene Hamilton, Kate Kenworthy, and Miss Kitty) take their places on stage. They begins with a simple story of a man and woman who fall in love through a hole in a fence. 

The first half of Agreste (Drylands) is a love story. As the lovers grow older and fonder of one another, the fence can no longer keep them apart. Via lighting design, Colin K. Bills concocts a simple but enthralling means to depict the push-pull nature of their courtship. The two run away to build a life together in a hazy whirlwind of a moment and the staging makes this easy to be swept away with. Their adult lives are largely private and innocuous, but they share a palpable commitment to one another. Though they never marry, their partnership is only broken by death. Then the characters are given names: Maria and Etevaldo.

The latter half of the play is a tragedy rooted in blind intolerance. Maria and Etevaldo lived a long and happy life together, but one’s death draws an unexpected wrath from their community leaving the surviving partner to fear violence. 

The play is staged well, but not ostentatiously. Giorgos Tsappas’ set consists of two ramped sides with richly textured pools of gravel and mulch. Bills lights the stage with smoky, dusky hues that only exacerbate as the drama progresses. Gambini aptly directs the piece to center the two lovers’ journey throughout this nondescript time and space, presumed to be somewhere in the Brazilian countryside. The point, however, is not that this particular narrative must be confined to a specific time and place, but rather that this ritualistic act of oral storytelling can transcend geographic borders. 

Costumed by Danielle Preston in earth-toned tunics without attention to traditional gender roles, the actors take turns playing Maria and Etevaldo, each with their own touch of grace and compassion. The ensemble acts as a harmonious vehicle, although there were a few moments of what appeared to be accidental distractions that disturbed the flow of the already very brief production. Nevertheless, the play works well as an ensemble narrative rather than a more traditional character-driven drama thanks to its deeply communal and community-centered story.

As with many translations, certain liberties must be taken. Gambini’s translation includes two English songs to begin and end the piece—Nat King Cole’s “Nature Boy” and Brenda Lee’s “If You Love Me, Really Love Me”—which are sung a cappella by Miss Kitty. These moments are deliriously moving as they bring the idyllic setting of Moreno’s play into a more immediate and recognizable context. Miss Kitty’s performance is both stunning and gut-wrenching to behold. 

In Agreste (Drylands), Gambini brings folkloric theater into a new age. As easy as love comes to Maria and Etevaldo, terror resides in their wake. Beautiful in its simplicity, but heartbreaking to behold, this unique play is a powerful example of how to both preserve cultural traditions, while challenging outdated beliefs at the same time. 

Newton Moreno’s Agreste (Drylands), translated and directed by Danilo Gambini, runs through Nov. 19 at Spooky Action Theater. spookyaction.org. $20–$37.50.