With a title like "The Room Next Door, or the vibrator play," audiences might well expect a jolt or two – and not of the AC variety the newfangled electric gadgets of the late-19th century were known to occasionally deliver. For those looking for a bit of shock and awe from J Street's "bold, intimate, live" theater, the current Capital Stage production of Sarah Ruhl's comedy does not disappoint. Though Ruhl's script goes for the gag switch a few too many times, and changes polarity with unsettling frequency, the uniformly strong cast led by Michael Stevenson, Elena Wright and Katie Rubin shine brightly and consistently. Playing through Feb. 26, "The Room Next Door" is set in the late-19t

Remember when musical theater was called musical comedy? True, dramatic plot turns have consistenly been essential elements in most of the Great White Way's all-singing, all-dancing productions. From the issue of racial discrimination explored in Jerome Kern's landmark "Show Boat" (1927) to the gritty realities of abortion, rape and suicide facing teenagers in Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater's "Spring Awakening" (2007), musicals often have featured some measure of conflict. Maybe it's the rose-colored opera glasses audiences tend to slip on when looking back, but some still bemoan Broadway's shift away from happy-go-lucky book musicals in which the most-serious issue was the question of wh

William Selby remembers well when he first heard about a little cabaret show that was generating buzz among New York theater fans. “I was a full-time actor at the time, and I had a roommate who was a waiter at this place – Palsson’s (Supper Club) on West 72nd Street,” Selby said. “He came home one night raving about something called ‘Forbidden Broadway’ and did a number for me. “I fell off the bed laughing – I knew I loved it right then and there.” Selby wasn’t the only one who embraced Gerard Alessandrini’s concept of a satiric revue that both celebrated and skewered musical theater. Since its opening 30 years ago this month, “Forbidden Broadway” played almost continuously in New Yor

photographs by Barry Wisdom Everyone wants to be appreciated for who they; for their personalities, for their accomplishments, for their talents – for their “extraordinary skills.” On the surface, “Aliens With Extraordinary Skills” – Saviana Stanescu’s seriocomic play now on stage at the B Street Theatre – is a story of the new generation of immigrants who are coming to America. Some, like Nadia (Stephanie Altholz) and Borat (John Lamb) have landed with less-than-legal credentials and are on the run from the INS. Lupita (Rinabeth Apostol), a wannabe actress from the Dominican Republic who pays the rent by working as an exotic dancer and renting out her living room, is more pragmatic. S

photographs by Barry Wisdom People around the world may burn the Stars and Stripes, hang our leaders in effigy and protest the U.S. government’s involvement in everything from the assassination of foreign leaders to the selection of Miss Universe finalists, but the United States remains a top destination for those seeking a better life. And whether one is an illegal immigrant from Moldava or Russia, a Green Card holder from the Dominican Republic, or even a divorced good ol’ boy from the Deep South, nothing embodies the American Dream like New York City. It’s a story old as time, a song as old as rhyme, but given a fresh chorus by playwright Saviana Stanescu, herself a Romanian immigran