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Book by Bo Wilson
Music by Steve Liebman
Lyrics by Steve Liebman and Bo Wilson
Starring Jan Guarino, Scott Wichmann and Audra Honaker
Photos by Jay Paul







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I was sitting backstage during this afternoon’s rehearsal for Guys and Dolls and I had a perfect ‘Showbiz’ moment, and I became impelled to reflect on my good fortune as a performer.
As I sat on a step unit in the wings just off stage right, I began to think about the historic Empire Theatre and how many performers it has been home to through the years. I thought, This old vaudeville house sure has seen its share of magic. What a tradition!!
To be a small part of that tradition is a joyous and humbling thing.
I glanced around and saw actors running lines by themselves, possessed of that slightly ‘crazy’ look, evidenced by the downward-directed muttering that we all do when we’re trying ever-so-diligently to whisper our lines letter-perfect.
Our Director, Patti D’Beck, stood in the front row of the audience, commiserating with our Stage Manager, Wendy Vandergrift, as they went over the blueprint for the set design. Wendy was probably saying what I’ve heard her say about a trillion times: We Can Do That. When she says it, she means it.
Our Musical Director, Sandy Dacus was wrapped up warmly in a cute little knit sweater as she played one of the duets for Sky and Sarah on a portable keyboard. Every now and then she’d pop a cookie into her mouth without missing a note.
As Rita Markova’s incredible singing of ‘I’ll Know’ was giving me goosebumps, I scanned the theatre some more.
I looked over to see the dance ensemble running through their choreography in the adjacent wing. Some were spinning, some were watching the action onstage. Even when they are at rest, they look graceful, I thought.
Our ‘Harry The Horse,’ John Winn, was sitting by the stage door, reading a newspaper, dressed in shorts, a T-shirt and a fedora. Two of our walking wounded, Jason Marks and Landon Nagel—one battling severe laryngitis and the other a recent arm injury—were chuckling about something mischievously while running lines together. Great, I thought, Nicely-Nicely can’t talk and Benny can’t move!! What a pair!!
Almost everywhere I looked, I saw smiles. I saw people getting to know one another. I saw friendships blossom and rare talent on display. And not an ‘ego’ in sight.
I looked out into the audience--where a few more cast members were amiably chatting and getting to know one another-- past the tech table, up into the balcony to the vast, welcoming expanse of what is truly one of Richmond’s treasures.
And I felt incredibly lucky.
Lucky to be around such great people. Lucky to be working for a class organization in a historic setting on one of the greatest of All-American musicals. And lucky to be making new friends while doing what I love most in all the world.
This group is a really fun bunch. They make me laugh. I always leave rehearsal smiling. And we’ve only really been around each other a few weeks. I’m really looking forward to this run and the time I’ll spend with my new ‘Summer Family.’
I cannot accurately describe the amount of talent, energy and enthusiasm being infused into this project. You’ll simply have to see it for yourself. Come spend some time with the cast of Guys and Dolls at The Empire Theatre this summer. I can guarantee that, you too, will have a perfect ‘Showbiz moment.’ More I cannot wish you.
-Scott Wichmann
Read more from Scott at his blog, www.scottwichmann.blogspot.com
Posted by Hannah Miller
Warning: To add clarity to this discussion of "offensive language," a few words are used that you may find "offensive." Continue at your own risk. Thanks.
Our 2004 production of The Man Who Came to Dinner starred Jill Bari Steinberg and Joseph Pabst (pictured to the right), and was written by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart in 1939. During the run I received several letters from audience members complaining that I’d “added” profanity to the play. Of course I hadn’t. The few mildly profane words that were spoken from our stage all came from the minds and pens of those beloved, iconic American playwrights, Kaufman and Hart (pictured below and to the left). In the popular culture of 1939, their language caused nary a ripple. In today’s cultural climate, heavily influenced by the rise of the religious right, these same words prompted a small parade of conservative audience members to march to the exits in a huff.
When I assured the complainers that I had not added profanity to this cherished American script, they told me I was lying. They had “seen the movie,” they said (and perhaps a couple high school or community productions), and “those words were not spoken." What they may have failed to consider is that the film codes of the ‘40s were more Puritanical than the Broadway codes, and so Kaufman and Hart apparently chose to cut a few words from the movie version while keeping the original stage version in tact. The high school and community producers who had removed the words on their own accord most likely did so illegally.
As we engage in Part II of this discussion about “offensive language,” I’m using “profanity” as the catch-all word. At its root, “profane” means “worldly,” as in the opposite of “spiritual.” Profane language—profanity—can be sub-divided into four categories:
Sometimes it almost seems ludicrous. We produced The Lark in 2006, written by Jean Anouilh and adapted by Lillian Hellman, and the central character of the play was Joan of Arc (pictured to the left in a painting by Dante Gabriel Rossetti). This is, of course, the same Joan who was at first persecuted and later sainted by the Catholic Church. A couple audience members were offended when Joan cried out to God in her moments of greatest spiritual despair. “Why did you have to make Joan of Arc use the Lord’s name in vain?” one chastiser wrote. IN VAIN!!?? What on earth led any audience member to think that Joan’s cry to God was in vain?
Sometimes religious concerns cross over into moral situations. When we produced Winnie the Pooh at Theatre IV, a very sweet grandmother called me to ask if we couldn’t rewrite A. A. Milne to make it clearer that Mr. and Mrs. Rabbit were married. “I mean they keep talking about having all those babies, and you never really make it crystal clear that they’re married.” When I reminded her that Mr. and Mrs. Rabbit were, in fact, rabbits, and that rabbits didn’t get married, even in the days of A. A. Milne, she simply said, “Oh, you know what I mean.”
Another animal that never ceases to rile the religious right at Theatre IV is the ass referred to in Peter Pan—come see it this spring; my mailbox is ready and waiting. When Tinkerbell becomes frustrated with Peter’s attentions to Wendy, she calls Wendy “a silly ass.” Of course, Tinkerbell “speaks” only through the tinkling piano (or is it a flute?) that represents her fairy voice. Peter giggles when Tink calls Wendy the name. When Wendy inquires as to what funny thing Tinkerbell just said, Peter translates, and you can often hear the gasps.
I’m frequently told that language is so much more coarse in popular culture now than it used to be—and in many ways that’s true. But what’s also true is that there’s a growing group that becomes offended far more easily than people used to. When Mary Martin (pictured to the left) said “a silly ass” on the national airwaves in 1954's TV version of Peter Pan, no one batted an eye. Everybody accepted the word “ass” as another word for donkey. Today, some people hear “ass” and all they can think of is someone’s buttocks.
Thousands of audience members have loved our current production of Moonlight and Magnolias (pictured to the right, starring Dave Bridgewater, Scott Wichmann and Joe Pabst). And 20 or 40 audience members have been really offended by the language. A group of well-meaning folks from Good Samaritan Ministries called and asked for comps to one of our shows. They do amazing rehabilitation work with indigent men dealing with addiction in Richmond's South Side, and we were eager to help them out. We gave them comp tickets to the show of their choice, and they selected Moonlight.
The woman thought, well, they only say “damn” once, and I think we can handle that, so we’ll accept the 15 free tickets and have a lovely evening out. What she didn’t know—what we didn’t make clear—is that “the d-word” was not “damn” but “dick,” as in Selznick’s graphic line about Hollywood pandering, “We suck the collective dicks" of our audience.
One of the challenges we face is finding the correct way to communicate with our audience about the language they can expect in any particular production. It is never our intention to surprise or offend. It is also not our intention to bowdlerize the language of the great playwrights to meet the particularly sensibilities of our times.
I don’t enjoy offending people. Honestly I don’t. The graphic to the right, I've been told, is borrowed from boy's lacrosse. It's a signal that relates to "offensive screening." It was mailed to me by an audience member who wanted to remind me that what I do is potentially offensive.
Offending someone is, of course, not the same thing as boring someone. Two of my favorite productions at Barksdale (The Crucible by Arthur Miller and The Lark by Jean Anouilh, adapted by Lillian Hellman) bored some members of our audience. I directed both productions.
Both plays relate to history (the Salem witch trials and the McCarthy era in the case of The Crucible, the Joan of Arc story and the McCarthy era in the case of The Lark). Both plays are politicized (we’re talking Arthur Miller and Lillian Hellman after all). Both plays are narrative and language-heavy, written by playwrights who thrive on polemics, unapologetically requiring audience members to care about the issues the playwrights care about. Both plays are long by 21st century standards—The Coast of Utopia notwithstanding.
I love(d) both plays and both productions. And I know lots of other people who do (did) too. But on different nights during the runs of both shows I found myself sitting next to John Q Public audience members who fell asleep about ten minutes into Act I, clearly bored out of their minds.
music by Shaun Davey, and The Member of the Wedding by Carson McCullers) confused some members of our audience as well. The remarkably talented Steve Perigard and Scott Wichmann (does Richmond know how lucky it is to have these guys?), respectively, directed those two productions. They directed them beautifully.
The Lark is character and theme-driven; The Dead and The Member are both character and language-driven. Unlike most dramatic literature, these three plays are not particularly plot-driven. Take away a strong linear plot, and some people feel lost. “What the hell was that all about?” was a question I heard more than once after each of these three shows.
There are scores of ways to offend audience members, but over the years it seems to me that we’ve offended people in three main arenas: language, race and sex. What different people find to be offensive interests me. And since this season seems to be offending its fair share, and, come Little Dog Laughed, promises to offend lots more, I figure now’s a good time to discuss these issues.
Posted by Bruce Miller
John Patrick Shanley (Doubt, pictured to the left) is a former Marine who was raised in the Bronx. His writing has earned him an Oscar (Moonstruck), a Tony Award and the Pulitzer Prize (Doubt). Douglas Carter Beane (The Little Dog Laughed) is a gay playwright who grew up in rural Pennsylvania, and wrote the libretto for the current Broadway musical Xanadu, a re-make of the 1970s cult film. Beane is currently writing the libretto for the upcoming stage musical remake of The Band Wagon, now re-titled Dancing in the Dark.
Our summer musical, the great American classic Guys and Dolls, features music and lyrics by Frank Loesser (pictured to the right) and a book by Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows. Frank Loesser, born in 1910 in NYC, also wrote Where’s Charley? (produced by Barksdale in 2003), The Most Happy Fella, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, and the songs "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition" and "I Don’t Want to Walk Without You" (currently heard in Swingtime Canteen) and "Baby, It’s Cold Outside" (recently heard in our Holiday Cabaret).
Abe Burrows (the other co-writer of the Guys book, pictured to the left) was a renowned radio writer and comedic performer, who went on to serve as “script doctor” for numerous Broadway and radio shows. Interestingly, Abe Burrows is also the father of James Burrows, the legendary television director of The Mary Tyler Moore Show and co-creator of Cheers.
Discussing the movie industry, Hutchinson writes, “Now, as back then, in the last weeks, days and hours before shooting, there’s a mad scramble to finally get the script right. That’s where guys like Ben Hecht came in then and where guys like me come in today. In 25 years as a rewrite man, I’ve been parachuted into movie locations in places such as Morocco, Mexico, Australia, South Africa and really bizarre places such as Burbank.”
Carson McCullers (pictured to the left) has always given credit to her principal “script doctor,” fellow Southerner Tennessee Williams. Douglas Carter Beane (pictured below and to the right) is becoming somewhat of a specialist in rewriting the librettos of vintage movie musicals for contemporary Broadway audiences. And his real-life experience in which unnamed “script doctors” transformed the lead character from gay to straight in the
Hollywood adaptation of his Off Broadway hit, As Bees in Honey Drown, inspired the comic story he tells in The Little Dog Laughed.
George S. Kaufman (pictured to the left) served as his “script doctor” when he was polishing his first play. In his memoirs, Abe Burrows credited his success in the theatre to his work under George S. Kaufman, director of Guys and Dolls.
Richmond.com has a cool new look. I feel like it had been the same since I moved to Richmond four years ago. I, who generally am all about progress and change, find myself missing the layout that I'm used to, but it has lots of cool new features to check out!
moments of hilarity"
The first review is in for Moonlight and Magnolias. Under the headline Having a Ball with ‘Gone With the Wind’, it appeared in this morning’s Times-Dispatch. The beautifully written kudos are penned by Celia Wren.
poise”. Director Steve Perigard’s “witty sight gags (sound gags, too)” and Brian Barker’s “handsome set, with its peach-colored walls and sleek art deco furniture” also earn Wren’s approbation.
special nod must go to this production’s properties mistress, Lynn West, for coping with the piquant slovenliness.”
Having a Ball with ‘Gone with the Wind’ seems to us to sum up everything perfectly. We’re delighted that the critics and audiences seem to be having such a wonderful time. We hope you’ll call for YOUR tickets soon!
In the photos that follow, Jennings Whiteway and Michael Hawke prepare a sumptuous Magnolia-themed buffet for the Opening festivities.
Brian Barker, our extremely talented set designer, celebrates the evening’s success with his lovely wife.

Former Theatre IV board member Charlotte McCutcheon enjoys the cranberry brie with managing director Phil Whiteway.
Bruce Rennie, the best theatre tech director in Virginia history, finally gets a moment to relax before launching into tech for A Christmas Story, which opens next week at the Empire.

Our ever faithful light console operator, Linwood Guyton, shares credit for a job well done with our exceptional light designer, Lynne Hartman.
Co-star Dave Bridgewater enjoys discussing the play with Daren Kelly, who just returned to town after an acting gig with Yale Rep. Our fascinating Gone with the Wind lobby display can be seen in the background.
Keri Wormald (director of our upcoming Doubt) and Steve Perigard (director of Moonlight), discuss the evening’s success with acclaimed actor and director Robert Throckmorton.
And last but not least, longtime supporter Beth Sinnenburg enjoys raising a glass with our third hilarious co-star, Scott Wichmann.