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Jim Catapano at Blood Orange: A Masterful Study of Hurt, Love, and Loss

Et Atalia Theater Presents Abigail Duclos’ Stunning Experimental New Play

How do adolescents survive when all the grown-ups have disappeared? Blood Orange is like a domestic Lord of The Flies, but the abandonment and isolation on display cuts much deeper. The teenagers here aren’t just separated from their parental figures; they have been utterly failed by them.

Maria Müller is astonishing as Faye, a North Carolina high schooler whose father died violently a few weeks before the story begins. Faye’s stepmother has retreated to her bedroom, devastated, and extremely physically and emotionally unwell. The suddenly alone Faye brings over her school friend Eden for company; the lonely outcast Eden is happy for the attention but disturbed by Faye’s manic dark humor, a symptom of the trauma she’s been through. Faye keeps begging the appalled Eden to physically assault her (perhaps deep down to “see if she can still feel,” as Nine Inch Nails suggested).

Eden’s unease fades as her attraction strengthens. The two begin to connect on a deeper level, but the situation is disturbed by the arrival of Faye’s friend Georgia, who is the polar opposite of Eden; loud, assertive and hyper-sexual, she strides in and dominates proceedings, flirting with Faye and gazing with disdain upon Eden.

Now without a father and essentially without a mother, Faye feels abandoned by God as well. She devises her own deity out of a dead animal she found on the road and placed in a paper bag in a refrigerator, below her stash of frozen dinners. The creature is so mangled they can’t even tell what kind of animal it was (they decide on probably bunny), but Faye and later Eden are entranced by its appearance and even its stench of decay. They suddenly find a tangerine in the bag with the animal and declare it to be a miracle. The grounded Georgia is of course disgusted and condemns the horrific turn of events; she is also clearly threatened by Faye and Eden’s growing bond, which is now being solidified by Eden’s joining Faye’s new religion. Georgia is a Regina George in “Mean Girls”-type but is realized in three dimensions by Giorgia Valenti. The sassy, cynical Georgia can’t hide her insecurity and jealousy; it’s clear that her insults towards Eden are coming from that place. (The cast rotates throughout the run; Müller alternates as Georgia when Luisa Galatti appears as Faye.)

Ana Moioli charms as the awkward, innocent, appropriately named Eden, searching for connection and for an escape from her abusive father. She shows Faye the beloved stuffed animal her father tried to destroy, which foreshadows a climactic moment with Georgia and the “deity” later in the play. Faye prays to her roadkill god to bring her father back; Eden prays for it to make her own father go away. The two become one over their despair, dancing (literally) around their attraction to each other as they chant and pray to their new savior. It is a striking sequence, enthralling and horrifying at the same time, and speaks to the heart of the matter: these are young women who have been abandoned, abused, and cast adrift, and desperately looking for hope, love, and something to believe in.

One of the play’s most surprising moments is the sudden appearance of Faye’s stepmother Mariah in the flesh. If you have not consulted the playbill beforehand it would be understandable to expect her to remain an unseen character, represented only by the sound of footsteps making floorboards creak. But Doreen Oliver arrives to pull at our heartstrings, the loving mother weakened by illness and grief, desperately trying to regain her strength and faculties to make a simple tomato soup dinner for her daughter. It is a glimmer of hope for Faye, but a brief one; Mariah heartbreakingly collapses back into her desperate state, suddenly unable to even recognize Faye. The tomato soup is spilled onto the floor, a puddle of dark red, again foreshadowing the darkness to come. When Georgia returns to put the situation to an end, events spiral to a horrific conclusion that is deeply unsettling—but also excellently staged and acted.

The production is brought to life with powerful direction by Vernice Miller, and meticulously choreographed by associate director Amelia Rose Estrada, with an exceptional scenic design by Ningning Yang. The sound design by Laura Perreira and lighting by Hayley Garcia Parnell contribute so much that they can almost be considered other characters in the play. The compelling group of actors, whose chemistry is electric, stay completely in character even through the many scene changes, keeping the audience immersed in the world of the play. Duclos and the actors have combined to bring us real people that we get to deeply feel for as we hang on their every word and action.

Blood Orange is an absolute triumph for Duclos and the cast, a masterful work that will stay with you long after the lights in Faye’s apartment go out.

The production of Blood Orange is supported by the Romanian Cultural Institute. It runs through Sept. 17, 2025.

The Wit and Wisdom of Felipe Luz as written by Jim Catapano

An Up-and-Coming Cabaret Star Looks at Life, Love, Lust, and Everything Else That Happens Under the Covers

“As tempting as it is, please refrain from opening your dating apps during this show,” requests Felipe Luz in a voiceover at the beginning of their show, dubbed “Men Are Trash and I’m a Raccoon.”

Luckily, Luz is too engaging for that to be a concern. They’re not performing in a one-person show; They are a one-person show.

Luz is a Manhattanite who pursued an MFA in Acting at Ohio University (where they recently brought their show). They are a self-described “Brazilian multi-hyphenate and teaching artist” who believes “we should all live our lives as works of art.” And they are fulfilling this 100 percent in their ongoing theatrical journey, where they regale the crowd with persona life stories and lessons—with plenty of laughs along the way.

A stage is set with Japanese byōbu screens flanking a semi-dressed mannequin behind a makeup mirror and table, and a satin-sheeted bed. Luz emerges, a lighthouse beacon coming to rescue us from our denial of how modern life works (or doesn’t).

“How much will people put themselves into boxes only to get laid?” they observe. “Isn’t Grindr the LinkedIn of Sex”? And thus, the tone is set, and it’s lots of Truth and implied Dare. Luz proceeds to lay down the ground rules that must be followed if anyone wants their attention—no sex with idiots, no politics, no questions asked—while acknowledging that all those rules get dropped if Luz is feeling “super-horny.”

Luz’s honesty is refreshing and hilarious, and we laugh as they shine the spotlight back on us, urging us to consider our own motives in life and love. The show is filled with Luz’s astute observations and revelations; they admit they’ve always been a
“manic pixie dream boy,” who often exists solely as a “plot device” for people to learn about themselves before they move on to someone else (a stunning realization that surely hits home for many of us).

Lux is the kind of performer who holds your attention from beginning to end (an end that arrives too soon and leaves the audience wanting more). Their storytelling is rich and poignant, peppered with hilarity and familiarity, emotion and vulnerability. A relationship begins, addictions are addressed and conquered, feelings increase and diminish, restlessness and doubt creep in, and a wondering of what else is out there leads to growing apart and finally, a breakup.

“I’ll be forever grateful to you for showing me that I deserve love,” Luz says to their unseen former partner in a bittersweet, teary moment. Then the mood changes, as Luz, jumping excitedly on the bed, announces a plan to message all the boys they’ve ever dated and call them out— “just for the drama!”

Social media, and its impact on modern dating, gets a turn under Luz’ powerful microscope. In a nutshell, they observe that our addiction to checking on people from our past online means we can never truly turn the page and free ourselves, and our former objects of affection know this. “I’ll start dating someone else in two weeks, and they won’t even be that pretty, and you’ll wonder what’s wrong with you!” Luz proclaims to a past paramour (another shot to the heart).

It’s then that a true shot to the heart is delivered. “We’re always waiting for someone, so we don’t want to get too attached, because there might be someone better waiting around the next corner.” Luz knows themself—and us—very well.

“Men Are Trash and I’m a Racoon” recently ran at Brooklyn’s The Rat, and further NYC shows are coming this year. Follow Felipe on Instagram at @letherebefelipeluz to see what they do next (and where you can see them do it!).

Jim Catapano views the creative view from “Over the Shoulder”

The Creative View from Over the Shoulder

Mark Solomon Shares His Expertise on Telling Stories and the Art of Skillful Editing

“The way I see the world is through stories,” says Mark Solomon. “It’s the water I swim in.”

Renowned Film editor Solomon has over 30 years’ experience in engaging audiences. And he did exactly that for an enthralled crowd at a Talkback, Signing, and Live Podcast at the Drama Book Shop in Midtown Manhattan, regaling us with tales of the craft as detailed in his new book, Over the Shoulder: A Freelancer’s Guide to Telling Stories and Editing Films. (The following are highlights from both the Talk and the Q&A portions of the event, facilitated by The Drama Book Show! Podcast hosts Mark Eugene-Garcia and David Rigano)

Solomon first became enchanted by the art of storytelling through cinema at 18 years old, when he saw the classic film Harold and Maude, the May-December romance story that he found “beautiful and life-affirming”. “When I left the theater that night I felt like I was floating on air,” he says. “So exhilarated and uplifted. I decided right then—this is my path.”

But after several semesters at Syracuse University where he was pursuing a bachelor’s degree in film and theatre, it was time for his final project, and Solomon found himself “choked with fear.” “I had a passion for films and filmmaking, but I had no idea what to make a film about…what story did I want to tell? I was desperate, and I berated myself for not knowing.”

It’s a struggle that all passionate creators can relate to. The intense pressure, anxiety, and dread in the time leading up to graduation resulted in what Solomon calls a “toxic psychosis that I was lucky to survive.”

Solomon found his way back following a Eureka! moment prompted by his experience of Japanese theater, where the actors do not begin until they are certain the audience is giving the stage their full attention and focus. “Through the course of the evening the actors take control of the breathing rhythm,” he notes, “and guide the audience through the climax of the play.”

Something about this concept stayed with him and spurred him on, and he was able to return to his academic and artistic journey.  “My brain slowly recovered…I remember walking around my suburban neighborhood with a single plea migrating through my body: Give Me Life.” He didn’t know yet what his story was going to be, but he knew for certain he wanted another chance to find it.

While studying more about the rough state of the world and exploring ways to make it better, Solomon grew as a person, which fueled his artistic aspirations. The activist that he says left the greatest impression on him was Daniel Berrigan, the Jesuit Priest famous for speaking out against the Vietnam War and openly opposing huge institutions like the US government and military. Solomon was inspired by his “shining moral clarity and the courage to live by his convictions…I found his talk galvanizing.”

Kerrigan encouraged Solomon to volunteer at the local nonprofit peace council, and Solomon learned a critical lesson. “A single voice has power.” And this has been the impetus for his storytelling journey ever since.

“Learn what story matters,” he says. “Tell that story in the most compelling way, to make people feel something emotional…learn how to reach people.”

This call-to-action leads Solomon and his editing team, on every creative endeavor, to create the version of a narrative that will create the strongest impact on the audience. “I ask (of a scene), what’s in and what’s out? Of the pieces that are available, what do you choose to keep with you and what do you leave behind?” For Solomon, it comes down to discernment, fueled by the knowledge that people look for patterns; the human mind sees two things and decides for itself how they’re related to each other, and the craft of successful storytelling depends on recognizing that truth. Solomon cites “The Kuleshov Effect,” a film editing technique that uses a sequence of visuals to infer meaning and evoke an emotional response. Returning to Japanese storytelling, another influential technique is Jo-ha-kyū, which instructs that all actions or efforts should begin slowly, accelerate, and then end suddenly or quickly. (Solomon notes an example of Jo-ha-kyū in his own Chicken Run, specifically the memorable “pie machine” sequence.)

Building masterfully on his extensive experiences and influences, Solomon has gone on to be the person behind the prodigious editing of such animated films as the aforementioned Chicken Run; Sgt. Stubby: An American Hero; The Tale of Despereaux; and Frankenweenie, which was nominated for an Eddie Award in 2013. He was also part of the team behind the legendary movies Shrek and Space Jam.

Solomon gives his insight on how to persevere and succeed in an industry where there is so much content and competition, at a time when art is presented by hundreds of thousands of creators on multiple platforms.

“Declare victory and move on,” advises Solomon when a project doesn’t achieve the level of success one had hoped for. “Call it a success, and learn what you can from it.” The good news about our times is that there is always a chance for art to be re-envisioned, re-launched, or re-released.

As very much someone who wants to give back and share his insight and experiences with aspiring artists, Solomon has taught his craft to students at film schools and universities. Over the Shoulder is a way of passing that knowledge to an even wider audience.

“I’d started teaching at a film school in Boston and in London…and every term, there would be one student who would sort of be really sparked by what I was talking about,” he explains. “I knew that they would follow and pursue a career as an editor, and I wanted to give them something to help. When you finish film school it’s hard to see how to navigate the world outside…So I thought that I would try to share what I learned.”

He recalls that when he first started out as an apprentice, he pledged to his editors and instructors to one day mentor newcomers himself as well. “I promised when it’s my turn, I’ll pass all that I’ve learned to the next generation. So this book is a part of keeping that promise.”

Learn more about Mark at MarkSolomon.net. Over the Shoulder is available at 7pinespublishing.com. Learn more about the Drama Book Store at https://dramabookshop.com/

Jim Catapano views the creative view from “Over the Shoulder”

Mark Solomon Shares His Expertise on Telling Stories and the Art of Skillful Editing

“The way I see the world is through stories,” says Mark Solomon. “It’s the water I swim in.”

Renowned Film editor Solomon has over 30 years’ experience in engaging audiences. And he did exactly that for an enthralled crowd at a Talkback, Signing, and Live Podcast at the Drama Book Shop in Midtown Manhattan, regaling us with tales of the craft as detailed in his new book, Over the Shoulder: A Freelancer’s Guide to Telling Stories and Editing Films. (The following are highlights from both the Talk and the Q&A portions of the event, facilitated by The Drama Book Show! Podcast hosts Mark Eugene-Garcia and David Rigano)

Solomon first became enchanted by the art of storytelling through cinema at 18 years old, when he saw the classic film Harold and Maude, the May-December romance story that he found “beautiful and life-affirming”. “When I left the theater that night I felt like I was floating on air,” he says. “So exhilarated and uplifted. I decided right then—this is my path.”

But after several semesters at Syracuse University where he was pursuing a bachelor’s degree in film and theatre, it was time for his final project, and Solomon found himself “choked with fear.” “I had a passion for films and filmmaking, but I had no idea what to make a film about…what story did I want to tell? I was desperate, and I berated myself for not knowing.”

It’s a struggle that all passionate creators can relate to. The intense pressure, anxiety, and dread in the time leading up to graduation resulted in what Solomon calls a “toxic psychosis that I was lucky to survive.”

Solomon found his way back following a Eureka! moment prompted by his experience of Japanese theater, where the actors do not begin until they are certain the audience is giving the stage their full attention and focus. “Through the course of the evening the actors take control of the breathing rhythm,” he notes, “and guide the audience through the climax of the play.”

Something about this concept stayed with him and spurred him on, and he was able to return to his academic and artistic journey.  “My brain slowly recovered…I remember walking around my suburban neighborhood with a single plea migrating through my body: Give Me Life.” He didn’t know yet what his story was going to be, but he knew for certain he wanted another chance to find it.

While studying more about the rough state of the world and exploring ways to make it better, Solomon grew as a person, which fueled his artistic aspirations. The activist that he says left the greatest impression on him was Daniel Berrigan, the Jesuit Priest famous for speaking out against the Vietnam War and openly opposing huge institutions like the US government and military. Solomon was inspired by his “shining moral clarity and the courage to live by his convictions…I found his talk galvanizing.”

Kerrigan encouraged Solomon to volunteer at the local nonprofit peace council, and Solomon learned a critical lesson. “A single voice has power.” And this has been the impetus for his storytelling journey ever since.

“Learn what story matters,” he says. “Tell that story in the most compelling way, to make people feel something emotional…learn how to reach people.”

This call-to-action leads Solomon and his editing team, on every creative endeavor, to create the version of a narrative that will create the strongest impact on the audience. “I ask (of a scene), what’s in and what’s out? Of the pieces that are available, what do you choose to keep with you and what do you leave behind?” For Solomon, it comes down to discernment, fueled by the knowledge that people look for patterns; the human mind sees two things and decides for itself how they’re related to each other, and the craft of successful storytelling depends on recognizing that truth. Solomon cites “The Kuleshov Effect,” a film editing technique that uses a sequence of visuals to infer meaning and evoke an emotional response. Returning to Japanese storytelling, another influential technique is Jo-ha-kyū, which instructs that all actions or efforts should begin slowly, accelerate, and then end suddenly or quickly. (Solomon notes an example of Jo-ha-kyū in his own Chicken Run, specifically the memorable “pie machine” sequence.)

Building masterfully on his extensive experiences and influences, Solomon has gone on to be the person behind the prodigious editing of such animated films as the aforementioned Chicken Run; Sgt. Stubby: An American Hero; The Tale of Despereaux; and Frankenweenie, which was nominated for an Eddie Award in 2013. He was also part of the team behind the legendary movies Shrek and Space Jam.

Solomon gives his insight on how to persevere and succeed in an industry where there is so much content and competition, at a time when art is presented by hundreds of thousands of creators on multiple platforms.

“Declare victory and move on,” advises Solomon when a project doesn’t achieve the level of success one had hoped for. “Call it a success, and learn what you can from it.” The good news about our times is that there is always a chance for art to be re-envisioned, re-launched, or re-released.

As very much someone who wants to give back and share his insight and experiences with aspiring artists, Solomon has taught his craft to students at film schools and universities. Over the Shoulder is a way of passing that knowledge to an even wider audience.

“I’d started teaching at a film school in Boston and in London…and every term, there would be one student who would sort of be really sparked by what I was talking about,” he explains. “I knew that they would follow and pursue a career as an editor, and I wanted to give them something to help. When you finish film school it’s hard to see how to navigate the world outside…So I thought that I would try to share what I learned.”

He recalls that when he first started out as an apprentice, he pledged to his editors and instructors to one day mentor newcomers himself as well. “I promised when it’s my turn, I’ll pass all that I’ve learned to the next generation. So this book is a part of keeping that promise.”

Learn more about Mark at MarkSolomon.net. Over the Shoulder is available at 7pinespublishing.com.

Jim Catapano reviews a dying gasp of a senator’s soul with Michael Hagins’ “The Senator Speaks”

Michael Hagins’ Powerful New Play The Senator Speaks Examines the Human Consequences of Playing Politics

“We are all mired in dark times,” proclaims Conservative Republican Senator Calvin Shepherd (Michael J. Whitten). “At a time when the hard left is helping to ruin this country. Liberty is under assault…we are going to arm up and fight back.” Shepherd is spending the morning at home, surrounded by portraits of Reagan, Bush I, a large cross, and an even larger American Flag. He is practicing the Keynote speech he is scheduled to deliver to the National Rifle Association.

“It’s just rhetoric,” he admits to his religious, reserved wife Martha (Mary Sheridan). “I don’t believe any of it.”

Unsure of his own talking points, Shepherd keeps running to his desk to double-check his prepared script; he humorously has trouble saying the word “statistician.” But these are the least of his issues; his liberal activist, liberal arts-studying daughter Corinne (Olivia Whicheloe) is home from college, and they’re destined for another shouting match, which Martha wearily prepares to referee. (The relationship between father and daughter is exemplified by Corinne having thrown red paint on him during one of her many protest outings.)

Adding exponentially to the tension is the presence of Danny Johns (Xavier Rodney/Michael Hagins at Friday performances). Political Machiavelli Danny is essentially Shepherd’s Chief of Staff, and the devil on his shoulder, pulling the strings to advance Shepherd’s career and reap for himself the resulting rewards. (He also boasts that he’s the guy that makes potential “problems” go away for anyone who does what he wants.)

As events unfold, we learn that Shepherd’s voting history—the details of which he often struggles to recall—is coming back to haunt him. His rejection of background checks has put a gun in the hands of a young man who is now an active school shooter, just a few miles away, and ironically, mere hours before Shepherd is to go before the NRA. To the Shepherds’ horror, their young niece Jamie is one of the students trapped inside. Danny reveals that he’d been aware that the gunman was a potential threat to the community for some time, and he had strategically swept the information under the rug. But even now, this “incident” is all a mere inconvenience, and one that can be spun for political gain. “You can be America’s rock,” he later implores Shepherd. “The senator who overcame tragedy to bring this country to a stronger future.”

Amid an agonizing tug-of-war between Danny and the Shepherd family for the soul of the Senator, Corinne reveals that something terrible had recently happened to her at college. It’s indeed a crime against her, but one that she will receive no justice or recompense for—as a result of her father’s earlier political decisions. A further family revelation drives home the hypocrisy at the heart of Shepherd’s very being. Thus, at the urging of Danny and for the sake of some perks hidden in big wordy bills, Shepherd has essentially sold out his own family, to tragic consequences.

Brilliantly written and directed with no punches pulled by Michael Hagins, The Senator Speaks comes at a pivotal moment in history, when the chasm between congressman and constituent has never been greater. Hagins exposes the rot at the center of the politician’s heart; Shepherd is both callous and clueless, and this characterization is far from hyperbole in the turbulent early days of 2025. Corinne refers to Danny as “Rasputin,” and she is not far off; the kingmaker is not only a puppet master, but also so powerful in the political sphere as to be seemingly invincible. A disgusted Corinne asks him what he believes in. “Money,” he replies cooly. Shepherd is caught between Danny and his pleading family in a gripping and heartbreaking battle that singlehandedly sums up all that is wrong with American society.

The actors perfectly embody their roles, to the extent that the audience feels they are eavesdropping on a real family’s despair and disintegration. Rodney/Hagins’ Danny is a supervillain oozing with evil—but chillingly, he’s also completely realistic. The same is true for Whitten’s corrupted Shepherd, a man so consumed with his career and so brainwashed by his puppeteer that he can barely discern right from wrong anymore. Whicheloe’s assertive, fed-up Corinne is at turns defiant and heartbreaking—as is Sheridan’s disillusioned Martha, whose wavering admiration of her husband gives way to complete contempt. Whicheloe and Sheridan are compelling as their characters come to terms with the reality that their father/husband is not a person they can ever again stand with or depend on.

The Senator Speaks is a must-see production in an era when the creative voice is needed more than ever to speak to the troubles of our times, and to be our companion as we navigate the turbulent seas ahead of us.




The Senator Speaks is part of the African American Playwrights Initiative at the ATA. It is playing through March 8 at the Sargent Theater at the American Theatre of Actors.