Romeo and Juliet: Shakespeare’s classic tragedy, hashed out a thousand times in hundreds of variations on both stage and screen. So what keeps a production of arguably the most famous love story in the world fresh, fun, and ultimately poignant?

The unpainted concrete staircase to Redrum at Fort Fringe may not convey the import of grand opera, but don’t let the modest context fool you — Unmanned Stagecraft is presenting a polished, ambitious work of new opera at Capital Fringe 2013.  

So, full disclosure: I am kind of a history nerd.  Which is why I was delighted to see that Old Time British Music Hall is an attempt to recreate the principal form of working-class entertainment in pre-TV-and-radio Britain for a modern audience.  

The minimalistic approach of Kevin Boggs’s one-man Fringe performance is perfectly suited to the tone of the piece. Picture a man in his best khakis, gleaming loafers, and blue V-neck sweater standing upstage center in a simple pool of white light. This is Kevin, and Kevin doesn’t need an elaborate set to tell his story. […]

Before me stood a human being. I remember thinking this several times throughout the show as a positive reminder. So rarely are we captured by the basic humanity of our performers. Noa Baum, through the carefully crafted art of storytelling, managed to take me in completely.

Finding a balance between grit and eloquence is hard. Finding a balance between the down to earth reality and the dreamy other-worldliness of art is just as difficult.

Disco Jesus and the Apostles of Funk is not a play. It’s not a musical, a revue, or even a concert. Disco Jesus is an experience—an unparalleled, rocking experience.

Romeo and Juliet is not the greatest love story of all time. There. I said it. I read it first as a freshman in high school, and even then, Romeo and Juliet both seemed like hormonal idiots. They meet, “fall in love” get married, flail melodramatically about the cruelty of fate for a while, and […]

Our choices define us. The choice to go to war. To join a fight. To be a friend. To spend time with someone. To pull the plug. We never know what path our choices will send us down. We never know if we will like the outcome. We never know what we will regret.

Before last night, the most I could have told you about the Panama Canal is that it exists, that it was a big deal when the United States built it and that the French had tried and failed to do so before us.

It’s not easy being a fabulous gay ethnically ambiguous spoken word poet looking for love in the big city. Or the small city. Or anywhere, really.