Hell (and Heaven Too) is Other People

Alice Camarota Delivers a Gripping Modern Take on a Classic Work

Jean-Paul Sartre would be pleased to know his iconic No Exit still resonates—whether he’s looking down upon the earth, or looking up at it as he likely anticipated.

Upon arriving in his room in Hell after a particularly violent death, Joseph Garcin (Connor Wilson) asks the imposing Valet (Thoeger Hanson) where the implements of torture are. “Where are the thumbscrews, the whips, the racks?” The Valet looks at him puzzled. There are none, just three comfy couches that Monty Python’s Spanish Inquisition might consider wielding. “It’s hideous,” declares Garcin, who goes on to declare that he is well aware of why he has been condemned to Hell and has nothing to hide. But just when he’s feeling the Hades version of comfortable, Garcin learns that his deluxe afterlife apartment comes with roommates. Inez Serrano (Amie Margoles) arrives to join him, wearing a demon-red dress and ready to rock Garcin’s Netherworld. Inez “mistakes” Garcin for her Torturer, and things go downhill from there (yes, even in Hell that’s possible).

Joining the party next is Estelle Rigault (Mandi Sagez), a person so uptight and above-it-all that the bug residing inside her bum has made the journey to the Abyss completely intact. (She would have made a perfect first-class passenger on the Titanic, and hopefully been late for the lifeboats.) Unlike Garcin, she purports to have no idea why she’s in Hell and dismisses it as a likely mistake (much to the amusement of the snarky realist Inez). Estelle immediately claims one of the couches as her own, making sure it matches with her prim dress. She notes that her funeral on earth isn’t even over yet. “The wind is blowing my sister’s veil around,” she observes. “She’s trying her best to cry.” The willfully blind Estelle decides to refer to their current state as not dead, but “absent”. Inez, by contrast, is fully aware of why she’s where she is; she even relishes in her own cruelty. “I need to see other people suffer to exist at all,” she notes as she regales the others with the horror movie that was her life on earth. Garcin’s story is nearly as disturbing, as is his nonchalance about it all.

The trio swap stories of how they perished, then go on to defend their previous existence and come to terms with their current lack thereof. They wonder why they were put together in this room, having nothing in common but the fact that they barely tolerate each other. The personalities of the stoic, unapologetic Garcin, the stuck-up, selfish Estelle, and the manipulative, fiery Inez create a bubbling cauldron of tension as they come to realize they’re trapped in each other’s company for good, and that Inez was correct all along—they are, in fact, each other’s instruments of torture. Following this revelation, they struggle for a way to make a best of an impossible situation, going from contempt to flirtation to a form of love and respect—even if it’s a forced, pale imitation of the real thing.

The actors made a feast of the delicious material, providing a stark contrast of attitudes and sensibilities. Sagez has a wonderful Kristin Wiig-like energy that serves her character well; Wilson is a commanding presence as his character tries to fulfill the “Only Sane Person in the Room” trope; Hansen is perfectly cast as the polite but uncomforting Valet; and Margoles is delightfully incendiary, the spark that sets many metaphorical fires.

The production is directed pitch-perfectly by Director Alice Camarota and Assistant Director Thoeger Hansen.

No Exit is a production of The NuBox; it is produced by Camarota and Hansen.

45 Scenes of Bad Sickness Chronicles a Writer’s Harrowing Journey Through COVID

“I was looking forward to the next adventure. Instead, the next adventure found me.”

In the Summer of 2022, acclaimed playwright Robert Liebowitz began feeling distinctly unwell. “It started with a pain under my ribs,” he explains. “I didn’t think anything of it.” Within days he was in the ICU, fighting for his life.

45 Scenes of Bad Sickness is Liebowitz’ chronicle of the 3 months he spent in COVID hell; and he plays himself, literally reliving the entire traumatic experience on the stage every night. He is engaging, funny, heartbreaking, and endearing as he chronicles his living nightmare. He contracts pneumonia; his kidneys cease to function; and his legs atrophy to the point that he will have to learn to walk again—provided he ever makes it out of the hospital. He desperately longs to take a shower in his own home. His white hair and beard grow to the point where he thinks he looks like Moses. As things get ever grimmer it gets harder to fight—and yet he does, eventually getting all the way back both physically and mentally. The scenes where he takes his first unassisted steps in months, followed by his return home—60 pounds lighter and forever changed—are incredibly heartwarming and life-affirming.

Composer Stephen Cornine provides poignant musical accompaniment throughout. The scene number, from 1 through 45, appears on a pad at the front of his piano, and the actors take turns flipping the numbers and announcing the theme/first line of the next scene. Each opening line is then repeated by Liebowitz, as he enters the next phase of his battle and recovery.

The actors (including Jessica Kate Jordan, Charles Meckley, Monica Mist, Masaya Okubo, Kirstin Wolf, and Ronnie Zeidel in his theater debut) take turns playing different roles. Depending on the day/scene they are doctors, nurses, specialists, physical therapists, and Liebowitz’ visiting loved ones. They even get opportunities to sing, and beautifully so. Wolf, an ebullient Soprano, opens and closes the show with a duet and solo piece at the piano with Cornine.

Many true-to-life characters cameo throughout. Meckley is his son Andrew, who reminds him to cooperate with his healers. Jordan is a specialist from the south who appears for a hot minute to tell Liebowitz why she thinks he’s managed to stay alive when so many haven’t. Mist is his devoted girlfriend Lauren who is finally allowed to visit after many weeks, bringing love and snacks. Meckley and Zeidel are a comedic double-act as they give Liebowitz the most annoying sponge bath ever administered.

Liebowitz himself is astonishing. It cannot be easy to literally play out the most horrific period of his life over and over, and yet he does, with dignity, humor, and a philosophical point of view that is well worth taking on board for everyone who dares to stare down the abyss and live to tell about it.

45 Scenes of Bad Sickness is directed with gusto by Joanna Newman and runs at The Little Church through June 2 2024.

Crazy Love Looks at Relationships from the Farcical Side

Celine (Joanna Stone) is a wild card in the deck of life, a bouncy irrepressible spirit who yells all of her wants and desires as if daring the universe not to listen. She is married to the slightly uptight Tom (Travis Bermann), a working man and a weekend philosopher who sees it as his responsibility in life to provide for Celine. But Celine does not see fidelity as part of the contract, and strikes up a situationship with Augustus (Bennett Ferguson), who gives her all the excitement and passion that she perceives Tom incapable of.

After Tom confronts the pair and condemns the love triangle he didn’t sign up for, he and Augustus unexpectedly bond over lengthy weed-smoking sessions, discussing life, the universe and everything Celine. Soon even their burgeoning bromance begins to slide beyond the platonic. They grow closer as they find themselves deciding together how to best care for the runaway train heading towards a brick wall that is the woman they both love.

Despite the hilarious antics, there’s a relatable reality under the surface. Between the jokes lies a familiar, genuine desperation that befalls many living in the modern world of chaos and insecurity. All three of our heroes just want to be understood and seen, to be loved and looked after, and to belong somewhere.

The actors all shine, giving energetic performances that shoot out of the gate to 60 mph and stay there. Stone’s flair for physical comedy is astonishing, and Bermann and Ferguson’s comic befuddlement is priceless. Despite the raucous comedic tone of the piece, they never fall into caricature, maintaining the reality and humanity of their characters throughout. Playwright Charlotte Meehan keeps things upbeat and witty with dialogue that is not only hysterical and sparkling, but filled with truth.

Crazy Love is stylishly directed by Emma Schwartz, with lighting by Zachary Dulny and sets by Gabriella Bonifacio. It runs at the American Theater of Actors through June 2, 2024.

The Secrets We Keep Examines Powerful, Painful Themes in Astounding Fashion

Slavic Folklore arrives in the present day to take on the tragedies of the past, and it’s unforgettable.

The Secrets We Keep is a musical fairytale, grounded in grim reality. A modern-day town in the Slavic region is haunted by the Rusalki (“Slavic mermaids”), beautiful nymph-like woman who reside in the waters among the forest trees. They were all once humans, and are now in an after-death existence of willful luring and killing (all while angelically singing). We meet Luba (Lynn Pineda), the newest Rusalka, who as a young Jewish Polish girl was beaten and drowned at the end of the second World War. She lives in eternal pain, grieving the violent loss of her life and of her great love, Bronislawa (Presley Zisk). “In the Night, I Am Alone,” she laments in song, as her Rusalki sisters dance menacingly around her, their feral manner clashing with their fairy-like appearance.

Luba’s confidant in the group is Dobra (Erin Yoffee), the second-youngest Rusaka. Luba and Dobra have the distinction of not having deliberately chosen to become Rusalki, unlike their peers. This coupled with their relatively recent arrival in the afterlife have allowed them to retain some semblance of humanity and conscience, while the others exist merely to woo and then destroy (as depicted in “Come to Me”).

Into this dark world arrive Kat (Megan Audette) and her partner Liesa (Sarah Reid Vinyard). Kat has come to see the land of her ancestors, many of whom perished in the Holocaust. The friendly, good-hearted Kat stumbles upon the Rusalki, and is saved from death at their hands by Luba, who is still trying to hold on to her own humanity. Kat sweetly offers Luba human snacks and friendship, and they quickly bond.

But a shocking twist regarding Kat’s ancestry threatens to extinguish Luba’s human heart for good and plunge her fully into the darkness under the lake. And “Trinity Week”—the time when the Rusalki are at their most powerful and dangerous—is looming. As Kat seeks to learn more from first the local library and then from a woman who lived through the war, Liesa finds herself in great danger from the Rusalki. Like Kat before her, she is also saved by Luba at first—but this time, recent revelations have threatened to make Luba the most vicious Rusalki of all.

Luba’s plight is an intensely moving one, as she tries to choose between vengeance and redemption, and slowly begins to realize that perhaps the best revenge is to seek none at all.

The musical is beautifully realized; the Rusalki are elegant in their white robes while their crimson-colored hands remain a stark reminder of their bloodlust. Their gorgeous songs and spirited dancing contrast the viciousness of their hunger and hatred. The powerful themes depicted—the horror of genocide, he subjugation and defiling of women, the cyclical human patterns of fear, hatred, destruction and vengeance—are brought to a life in a new context that is undeniably thought-provoking. It creates a powerful story that, while based on myth, tackles head-on the all too real horrors of the past in a time when many choose to forget—and threaten to repeat.

The Secrets We Keep is written and directed by Danielle Wirsansky, with music by Frank Sanchez and choreography by Elizabeth Kessler.

FIVE STAR chats with producers, Alice Camarota (AC) & Thoeger Hansen (TH) on the eve of the 80th Anniversary
Production of Jean-Paul Sartre’s existential classic
NO EXIT
The NuBox
John DeSotelle Studio754 Ninth Avenue, NYCReservations and further info:info@jaymichaelsarts.com

Special Preview: Thursday May 30 @ 7:00 pm
Opening: Friday May 31 @ 7:00 pm Saturday, June 1 @ 7:00 pm & Sunday, June 2, 3:00 pm Friday June 7 & Saturday, June 8 @ 7:00 pm Sunday June 9, 3:00 pm

Utilizing the Paul Bowles translation as well as elements from the original, director Alice Camarota transports us into Sartre’s version of Hell: A mysterious impenetrable room where individuals are trapped and forced to see themselves through the eyes of others. While — customarily — this is a depiction of the afterlife, Camarota’s scheme eerily opens us to the macabre parable of society seen through the lens of the social media avatar-engorged mirror.
“L’enfer, c’est les autres” or “Hell is other people”
The cast features Connor Wilson (Evil Dead, the Musical; Damn Yankees) as Garcin; Thoeger Hansen (E-Dreams) as Bellboy; Amie Margoles (Law & Order; House) as Inez; and Mandi Sagez (Cinderella 2020) as Estelle.

Five Star Arts Journals:  What made you decide to do this play?

TH:  When Alice and I met back in November to discuss co-producing, I had nothing more specific in mind than familiarity with and love for Waiting for Lefty by Clifford Odets, and Henrik Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler.  Towards the end of our meeting, I asked what was at the top of her list of plays she dreams about directing, and without hesitation she answered, “Titus Andronicus.”  Titus became my obsession for a week or so, until Alice talked some sense into me about how formidable a project it is and in particular the time needed to plan and execute it properly.  With the goal of getting something on stage by late winter or spring, we pivoted.  No Exit was a comparably viable option also at the top of her wish list.

AM:  When I first read No Exit, I was already a fan of Camus, so Sartre’s play instantly spoke to me.

MS: When you get an e-mail from a director you’ve worked with multiple times that reads: “At this point you are my top pick for the role of Estelle and the only person I’m reaching out to, so if you want it, the part is yours.”…you say yes.  I love working with Alice and trust her casting vision, so the decision was an easy one for me.

CW:  I’d worked with Alice, the director, on a few projects before and she said she wanted to work with me on this, I jumped at the chance.

FSAJ:  The initial message is that we are the sum of other people’s interpretations. Now, in the days of social media, avatars, and other “masks,” how has Sartre’s message stood up against the test of time?

AC:  For me, the message of this show is that we create our own Hell and we create Hell for the people around us.  This is more true now than ever when there are so many people physically and digitally around us that there is no escape.

TH:  This is such a mind-bender to think about.  Since the beginning of lockdowns in 2020, I have been obsessed with dystopian sci-fi and found myself reading or re-reading the relevant classics by Huxley, Orwell, Bradbury, et al and marveling at the predictive visions found in them.  Sartre’s portrait of Hell is a different kind of future vision when it comes to anticipating the technologies of devices and social media.  Incredibly dominant facets of our culture now require us to be camera-ready at all times, and to have our cameras ready to record whatever the thing is that’s about to happen.  The part about always being in frame wholly devours the very idea of human fallibility and fragility.  Yet every third moment of a normal person’s conscious life is a reminder of our humble limitations.  And the impulse to press record, and have a device/lens in between ourselves and the thing happening live in front of us is, more than metaphorically, a deprivation of oneself from reality.  In No Exit, all of the protagonists wrestle with aspects of it, but Estelle in particular embodies that notion of being unable to function without the comfort that someone or something can see her.  She even says it.  Humans’ simultaneous fear of and compulsion towards attention-seeking is part of why we are hooked on our devices and profiles.  Sartre anticipated that as well as anyone.

AM:  I think this play is still important, especially in this day and age of needing validation by the number of “likes” or “followers” one gets on social media.  It hopefully reminds us that the need for so much reassurance is a cause for a lot of misery.  One has to find the contentment in oneself and put aside what others think.  We don’t know what they’re thinking anyway, and to quote Inez, “you don’t know what they want you to do anyway,” so you may as well do what moves you.  I’m thrilled to be part of this group to help tell this story. 

CW:  I think it’s become more prevalent with the increase in “connectivity” and the explosion of social media.  Now, more than ever, it seems we’re looking for an identity and are beholden to everyone else to tell us who and what we are.  Before, when the play was written it was easier to get a more accurate opinion of who you were.  We as human beings have always tried to put our best foot forward when meeting and interacting with others.  After all, no one wants to air out their dirty laundry in public.  But it was still you.  Albeit a version of you that you created to make a good impression.  Now with social media, every moment of our lives is doctored and tweaked, to paint us in the best light.  And only the good parts of our lives.  In order to exist in the echo chamber of whose life is better than who’s.  But the principle is still the same now as it was then: We only exist as the image others conjure up in their minds about us and we are still trying to live up to that or chase this impossible standard instead of simply being what we are. 

FSAJ:  What is your creative process?

AC:  I always go into the rehearsal room with an idea of how the show is going to look.  I have a basic set design and basic blocking mapped out for the actors, but I like to give the actors room to explore their characters and play with each other.  I want the process to be as collaborative as possible.

TH:  My creative process as an actor is dry and studious.  I elaborated on it in a recent interview about this production I did for Review Fix.  Producing – at least the somewhat limited extent to which I’ve experienced it to-date – requires the type of creativity inherent in project management, since that’s basically what it is.  That’s to say: the active-mindedness and curious-mindedness to not only devise the best possible solution for every challenge that arises, but to be able to anticipate those challenges – ideally before they make themselves apparent enough to immediately need attending to.  It’s a different, probably less emotional and spiritual type of creativity than what’s available on the artistic side, and for that reason I enjoy it less overall.  But I don’t hate it.  It is a necessary part of life.

CW:  For me, whenever I begin a project I read it a couple of times and I typically don’t make any choices or assumptions or make any notes about the character.  And once I’ve a firm grasp on the story, only then do I start to play by allowing myself to create facts about the character.  Like where he’s from, what he does, what his life is like according to the text and then I compile all this data and allow myself to let that go when rehearsing and see what comes up.  And be open to whatever I happen to be feeling at the time informing what the character is feeling.  I find it to be to least effortful on my part, I’m not trying to play an emotion or an action, if I’m tired, or grumpy or especially giddy that day, the character is too.  And I think that the audience responds to seeing something real instead of an actor playing at something.  I know I do.  And that process doesn’t stop at rehearsal either.  Even to the moment I’m on stage in performance I’m allowing myself to be influenced by what I’m feeling, the energy from my cast mates, the environment, so on.  And I marry that with the actions of the text or other things we’ve cemented in rehearsal.  If the character is meant to pick up something on a certain word, or shout at a certain point in the story, I will do all of those things but I never force myself to “feel” a certain way about it.  Maybe I liked that another character touches me one night, maybe tomorrow I don’t.  And that feels real to me and it keeps it fresh and enjoyable. 

FSAJ: Do you feel an extra sense of responsibility in doing a piece so known; so historic?

AC:  To be honest, I didn’t think about that when I picked this play.  I have always loved this show and knew that I wanted to be able to tell this story when the opportunity came up.

TH:  I subscribe to the notion that we stand on the shoulders of those who came before us.  There may be many reasons why a certain play or other work of art becomes famous and time-honored.  They often begin with the sheer effectiveness and relevance of the art.  By doing our best to honor the play, we honor not just Jean-Paul Sartre, the person behind its vision, but everyone else who has worked on or appreciated the play since he created it, because they all have also contributed to its impact.  We line up to humbly take our places in that procession.

MS:  Every interpretation of a script will be unique to the actor/cast/director putting it on, so the responsibility I feel is the same as any other production – to honestly portray my character and to collaborate with the cast and director to create a cohesive story that resonates with audiences.

CW:  Anytime you’re working on a play, especially one as revered as this one, you do feel a certain responsibility toward to source material and the character.  But I usually try to stay in the mindset of “this is my shot at this story and as far as I’m concerned it’s never been done before” and that keeps pressure off of me for my own sanity and also allows me to not have to compare myself to previous iterations.  But trust in the director and other actors goes a long way and makes it a lot easier to allow myself to still do my job while also not fretting too much over the reverence of the piece.

FSAJ:  What is hell to you?

AC:  For me, Hell is over stimulation without rest.  I love to work hard and go hard, but I also need to take time just for myself.  Without that, life can become Hell.

TH:  Difficult to pin down.  I’m a pretty patient person.

CW:  Being trapped in a room full of Swifties during Super Bowl 58

The Memory Of Provides a Moving and Unique Look at the Lives of Friends and Lovers in the Queer Community

Written with poignancy and wit by Rachel Schulte, The Memory Of opens a window into contemporary connections that are familiar and relatable, and at turns both heartbreakingly sad and wonderfully amusing. We are witness to several years in the lives of nine New York friends, from February 2017 to June 2019. The scenes in the present are accompanied by interludes (“memories”) into the past, each giving crucial context to the events now unfolding.

At the center is Renee (Nikki Lyn Neurohr), a painter who is suffering from severe trauma following the shocking death of her girlfriend Brianna (Ria Meer). The suicidal Renee is haunted by the “ghost” of Brianna, who appears regularly to verbally torment her, appearing to intentionally sabotage her recovery. Already suffering from horrific PTSD due to tragic childhood events, Renee is unable to move on, and her ability to create art is stifled. However, to the horror of her friends and protective sister Kyle (a powerful Julie Thaxter-Gourlay), Renee is not sure she wants to be helped—if it means letting go of Brianna and everything that once was. “I know why she stopped going to therapy,” Kyle announces. “She wants to see Brianna.”

Hunter Hopkins Dunn is Renee’s BF Charlie, a writer who has strong feelings for Renee but suffers mostly in silence, helplessly watching the torment of the person she loves but can’t be with. (Morgan, played by Julia Baker, is a friend who comes to know them both intimately, in a way that will lead to climactic consequences later.) Renee is in love with Charlie as well, but is frozen in place, unable to exorcize the spirit of Brianna. “You are living in your own fantasy world,” Charlie challenges Renee. “While the rest of us try to keep up and make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

Her friends desperately try to help her to find a way go on, but no one is exactly certain what that should look like. Should Renee stay in NY to heal with the guidance of her friends while pursuing a life with Charlie? Or should she go back to San Francisco with Kyle to truly start all over?

Heather Abrado is a presence as the grounded, wise Carmen, who observes events through beautifully sung brief musical interludes. Tricia Mancuso Parks is Hannah, owner of the bar that Morgan and many of the friends work or hang out at, who is hoping for a relationship with Kyle despite the latter’s flitting in and out of town. Michael Thibeault and Russ Cusick are Dan and Tyler, there for all the joy and sorrow of their friends, and dealing with their own life stories and unrequited longings. Events reach a peak at a tense dinner party, where each of the friends face their fears, their pasts, and their true feelings for each other. As events transpire one finds themselves not just rooting for Renee’s happiness and safety, but for everyone’s.

There are several twists and turns along the way, one of which shockingly changes everything we have been told and alters the dynamic for the rest of the play. The Memory Of has the unusual effect of starting as an apparent tragedy, then lightening things slowly, and finally re-inventing itself as an uplifting story of true love and connection. The actors inhabit Schulte’s characters so adeptly and genuinely that they truly become a “friend-family” that it is a joy to spend time with.

Trigger Warnings: Suicide, Grief, Mental Illness, Emotional Abuse

The Memory Of is directed with a flourish by Alysia Homminga, with deft lighting design by Lauren Lee. It is presented at the Wild Project as part of the 2024 Fresh Fruit Festival, in Association with The Lipstick Project, LawnChair Theatre Company, and All Out Arts.