John Gallagher, Jr., (front, center) is Mate in Berkeley Rep’s world-premiere musical, Swept Away. The cast also includes (from left, second row) Cameron Johnson, Taurean Everett, Jacob Keith Watson and Vishal Vaidya; (from left, back row) Adrian Blake Enscoe and Stark Sands. BELOW: (from left) Sands as Big Brother, Wayne Duvall as Captain, Gallagher as Mate and Enscoe as Little Brother. Photos by Kevin Berne/Berkeley Repertory Theatre


When you leave a new musical humming the shipwreck, you know there’s a problem.

The first question hovering over Swept Away, the world-premiere musical at Berkeley Repertory Theatre is why everyone behind it thought that, in the 21st century, the American musical theater canon needed an all-male show. Why choose a story that banishes women from the stage and leaves them only to be mentioned as whores in port or dear, sweet Melody Anne back home on the farm. The second is why re-purpose great songs from the Avett Brothers’ impressive catalogue in service of a cliché-ridden story that ends up being about four white guys in a lifeboat.

The impulse to turn songs by Scott and Seth Avett, who have released album after album of rich, melodious music over the last two decades, into some sort of theatrical experience is completely understandable. Their brand of folk-Americana-rock is humorous, dark, beautiful and full of interesting stories. The more than a dozen Avett songs incorporated into Swept Away are not the problem. As long as the men of the cast are singing songs like “Go to Sleep,” “Swept Away” and “Murder in the City,” all is well. The vibrant adaptations of the songs for the stage by Chris Miller and Brian Usifer are rousingly performed by the band under the direction of Julie Wolf and Sean Kana (both credited as music director).

If the performers just sang the songs and didn’t bother with the book by John Logan, Swept Away would be thoroughly enjoyable. Unfortunately, the songs are part of meager story about a late 19th-century whaling ship. There’s a stern captain (Wayne Duvall) who bemoans the loss of his way of life because people don’t need whale oil now that they have paraffin and kerosene. It’s not clear if we’re supposed to feel bad for a guy whose speech basically sounds like, “Damn that kerosene! I want to kill more whales!”

And then there are the neophyte sailors joining the crew. Little Brother (Adrian Blake Enscoe) has run away from his hard life on a hard farm surrounded by hard people. He wants to live life, dammit, not stare at the ass end of a mule. Big Brother (Stark Sands) couldn’t let his little brother run away unsupervised, so the young men set out on an adventure, with Big Brother certain that Little Brother will soon see the error of his ways and come home to family and church (and the aforementioned sweet Melody Anne).

The fourth main character, played by Tony-winner John Gallagher Jr., known only as Mate, represents every hackneyed image of a sailor you can dredge up. He’s seen it all, done it all, killed it all, fucked it all and he’s here to tell you that he’s got a knife and he’s a menace. Gallagher, although an engaging singer, is miscast. He conjures about as much menace as a labradoodle puppy.

While on the ship, the show is buoyed by a terrific ensemble that includes Taurean Everett, Cameron Johnson, Vishal Vaidya and Jacob Keith Watson. They sing, they dance (a bit), they tie ropes. Their shining moment is the shipwreck – a dazzling bit of stagecraft helmed by director Michael Mayer. This stunning moment is a combination of slow-motion choreography by David Neumann, set design by Rachel Hauck, lights by Kevin Adams and sound by Kai Harada. This scene also serves, sadly, as the end of the ensemble.

The action then shifts to a lifeboat and the intense discussions about how the men might survive. Though the whole show is only 90 minutes, the lifeboat section feels like hours. Then there’s a wholly unearned ending filled with salvation for characters who have never felt anything but hollow.

I can only speak for myself here, but I had no interest in any aspect of Logan’s story. That’s hugely disappointing because the Avett Brothers’ songs deserve better. They don’t serve the story well here, and the wearisome story certainly doesn’t support them. You might say it’s all a bit of a shipwreck.

FOR MORE INFORMATION
Swept Away continues through March 6 at Berkeley Repertory Theatre’s Peets Theatre, 2025 Addison St., Berkeley. Tickets are $44-$180 (subject to change). Call 510-647-2949 or visit berkeleyrep.org.
Berkeley Rep’s Covid information is here.

Enjoy this playlist of songs from Swept Away as originally performed by the Avett Brothers

This Theater Dogs website has been going since August 1, 2006, making it a solid 15 years’ worth of theater news, reviews and assorted other stuff that captured my attention. If you’re a longtime reader, thank you. If this is your first time, welcome. I’m thrilled that a) this site is still here and b) that I’m still here. As they constantly say on The Great, Huzzah.

After the long pause of the pandemic, it’s beyond wonderful to be back in theaters with shows and audiences and the excitement of live theater. During the COVID lull, I spiffed up Theater Dogs a bit (thank you to those who noticed and commented), and the most recent addition is an original piece of art commissioned for the website that thrills me for a number of reasons.

The incredible textile artist Keeli McClintick has created the quilt-like banner for Theater Dogs that replicates the excitement of settling into your theater seat anticipating the rise of that beautiful red curtain. I urge you to check out Ms. McClintick’s gorgeous work on Instagram: @keelimcclintickstudios. These are not your granny’s quilts.

The inclusion of an original Keeli McClintick across the top of this website also thrills me because Ms. McClintick is an artist whom I’ve admired for a number of years. I won’t say how many exactly, but let’s just say since I was born. We are first cousins, and in addition to being constantly in awe of her mad skills and rampant creativity, she also happens to be one of my favorite people on this or any other planet.

Thank you, Keeli. And now, curtain up…

On August 1, 2006, a little theater blog called Theater Dogs (thank you, Paul Rudnick for the name and for the story behind the name) came into being, and 10 years later, here we are.

As the 10th anniversary approached, I thought about how I might like to celebrate. Perhaps a party where theater people might imbibe generously and give me fodder for turning this into a gossip rag. Perhaps a limited edition T-shirt followed by posts full of photos of readers wearing the T-shirt (I’ve actually wanted to do that for years). Maybe nothing at all. Or maybe, just maybe, it was time to let Theater Dogs crawl back into the dog house from whence it came. After all, this amiable pursuit doesn’t provide me income of any kind and, in fact, can take away time from the job that a) I love and b) allows me to survive in this increasingly non-survivable city. Rather than do anything drastic like throw a party or close down the whole shebang, I took some time off. I haven’t written about or seen a play since mid-July, and that is the longest I’ve gone without entering a theater since I started writing about theater in the Bay Area in September 1992. Did I go through withdrawal? Actually, not so much. I spent nights home with the husband and the dog (Fanny the original theater dog) and our giant television. I subscribed to Broadway HD and watched theater digitally. I planted things in our garden. I obsessed daily over Hamilton and sang along with the cast album and cried so many times I’ve lost count. I read books and comics. I deleted theater press releases from my email and contemplated what it might be like to have to actually have to pay for theater tickets.

When I started this blog, I was a gainfully employed journalist at a daily newspaper that was taking tentative steps into the digital world. When I was laid off from that job after a decade, the blog came with me (thanks, IT Department!) and it provided me with a link to the world (and the job) I couldn’t bear to leave. Other jobs followed, including a seven-year stint as an entertainment freelancer with the San Francisco Chronicle, which was awfully enjoyable and felt moderately important. Freelancing allowed me to keep a hand in the game while I began work with a worthy nonprofit that puts professional artists and outstanding arts programs into public schools, after-school programs and summer camps (please check out the website for the San Francisco Arts Education Project in your spare time, won’t you?). Best of both worlds. Then the day job began to loom ever larger. I became executive director and time for interviews and reviews and thoughtful writing became ever scarcer, and it’s no fun feeling like a hack cranking out copy because you feel you have to.

Hence the break, which officially comes to an end this week. Theater Dogs is here to stay – at least for now. The break was nice, but the insanity of our violent world, especially in this migraine-inducing election season, has me craving the profundity, the comfort, the humor, the pathos, the risk-taking of theater. So I’ll review what I can when I can, and I’ll savor it all.

But here’s another thing: I’m also going to write about whatever I feel like writing about. So I want to write about Carol Burnett’s new memoir diving into the 11 years of her variety show? I’ll do it. I want to rhapsodize about Barbra Streisand’s new album of movie star show tunes? Done. Something fun and exciting on Broadway? I’m happy to write about it (especially if it relates at all to Hamilton, a show that makes me feel like a singleminded 16-year-old again). If there’s something that catches my fancy in the head-spinning world of network/streaming/online television, I’m going to share it with you, and I’d like you to do the same. You can reach me through this website or you can email me at theaterdogs (at) gmail.com.

I’m going to try to get to theater companies I haven’t seen for a long time, and if you see something great (which is different from being paid to do PR for a theater company), I’d love to hear about it, and I’ll try to go. I won’t be on the road as much, so within San Francisco is preferred, though I’ll make it to the East Bay, down the Peninsula and Marin on occasion.

I want this to be a place of diversity, equity, access, kindness, respect – a place where attention is paid and assumptions are unwelcome. Taking a little break over the summer was healthy, and though no one really noticed I was gone, I’m glad to be back. Happy belated 10th birthday to Theater Dogs and huge thanks to the loyal readers (especially you).