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Jeffrey Sanzel

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Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande-Butera in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Few books attain the iconography of L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1900). Perhaps better known is the MGM classic, released in 1939. Starring Judy Garland as the tornado-transplanted Dorothy Gale, the image of her joined by the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion (and, of course, her dog, Toto) dwells in our collective conscience.

Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande-Butera in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

While not the first novel to explore the source for an alternate view, Gregory Maguire’s Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West (1995) became a phenomenon, selling over five million copies; three sequels followed.

In 2003, composer/lyricist Stephen Schwartz (Godspell, Pippin) and Winnie Holzman (My So-Called Life, Thirtysomething) adapted the novel for Broadway. While the reviews were mixed, the musical proved an audience hit. The Broadway Wicked has passed 8,000 performances, becoming the fourth longest-running musical in Broadway history. Tours, as well as worldwide productions, keep the show in the public’s eye.

Universal Pictures (who co-produced the Broadway production) present the film Wicked, the first of a two-part adaptation. Winnie Holzman and Dana Fox crafted a first-rate screenplay, returning to the book for details and creating additional backstories and an expansion of the narrative. Jon M. Chu (Crazy Rich Asians, In the Heights) brilliantly directs with a deep and honest understanding. From start to finish, Wicked is a triumph. In the truest example of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts, the film is an alchemical fusion of material, cast, and design, unifying in a single vision.

Wicked opens on the stone floor of the Wicked Witch of the West’s castle after her liquidation. The film cuts to a longshot of the friends with her broom traveling the Yellow Brick toward the Emerald City. The next shot is Glinda’s Munchkinland arrival in the signature pink bubble and her affirmation, “It’s good to see me.” Over the next two and a half hours, the story of the unlikely friendship of Glinda and Elphaba unfolds with dazzling visuals, first-rate vocals, and heart-felt, connected performances. It is not just the tale but how it is told: The movie opens the story to its “unlimited” vistas.

The film shows Elphaba’s birth and family, emphasizing her cuckolded father’s intensive dislike for the green baby. Additionally, he blames the verdant girl for the death of her mother and the damage to the second daughter, Nessarose. A script change creates greater tension: Elphaba did not intend to enroll at Shiz University; she was there to see Nessarose settled. Elphaba’s magic—like many outcasts (think Carrie)—manifests in moments of anger. After a display of violent but impressive power, Madame Morrible, the Dean of Sorcery, recruits Elphaba for the college. Morrible makes Galinda (she has yet to drop the “a”) share her spacious living quarters. Thus begins a fractious relationship that blooms into a deep friendship that is Wicked’s core.

The film squarely addresses the fascist issues examined in the book. The expulsion of Professor Dillamond, the goat who teaches history, is frighteningly effective and affecting. Unlike the hybrid in the Broadway production, Dillamond is a full-fledged goat—played with a genuine and sensitive core. A harrowing scene in which a group of animals meet covertly to discuss their impending fate resonates as a 1940s Germany. The filmmakers make bold statements regarding oppression and the stripping of rights, further emphasized in the presentation of the Wizard.

Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande-Butera in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Christopher Scott found the perfect vocabulary for the choreography, making each number and every movement count in the dozen numbers. The designs work towards flawless unity. Paul Tazewell’s jaw-droppingly elaborate costumes play perfectly against Nathan Crowley’s genius of a production design, perfectly filmed by cinematographer Alice Brooks. Glinda’s myriad shades of pink contrast with Elphaba’s textured blacks. The school uniforms play smartly against the Disney-esque Shiz University. The clockwork library allows for a “Marion the Librarian”—on-steroids “Dancing Through Life.”

At the film’s center are the exceptional performances. Cynthia Erivo embodies Elphaba in her struggles and frustrations but also her hope and humanity. She finds a wry humor that never fully masks her complicated outsider’s pain. Ariana Grande-Butera’s hair-flicking G(a)linda is the enchanting counterpart, an Elle Woods on steroids. But like Erivo, she allows the character’s inner life—and, most importantly, growth—to shine through. Both demonstrate a ferocious understanding of the throughline and deliver excellent vocals. 

Jonathan Bailey’s Fiyero raises the clichéd bad-boy and embodies his self-reflective declaration, “I don’t cause commotions. I am one.” Michelle Yeoh brings dangerous elegance to Madame Morrible, the ideal contrast to Jeff Goldblum’s bumbling but seemingly charming Wizard. In the latter, we see the true banality of evil, with his throwaway “to bring folks together, give them a real good enemy.” 

The supporting cast is first-rate: Ethan Slater sweet as the gentle but eager Boq, Marissa Bode strong as Nessarose, Peter Dinklage giving a gentle gravitas to the voice of Dr. Dillamond, Bowen Yang and Bronwyn Jones hilarious as Galinda’s sidekicks Pfannee and ShenShen, and Keala Settle’s upright but corruptible headmistress, Miss Coddle. The film contains two special appearances and a cameo that will delight fans. 

With Wicked, we finally have a musical adaptation to join the ranks of The Sound of Music and Chicago. With its high-octane energy, celebratory score, extraordinary imagery, and glorious cast, Wicked does not just fly—it soars. Rated PG, the film is now playing in local theaters.

Martha: The Cookbook

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Martha Stewart is one of the most recognizable personalities in the world. Noted for her media empire (Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia), the home and hospitality guru attained the highest level of celebrity. She published her first book, Entertaining, in 1982.

Martha: The Cookbook marks her one-hundredth cookbook. Subtitled “100 Favorite Recipes, with Lessons and Stories from My Kitchen,” the book reflects her culinary work and her family life. The introduction and the facing photographs indicate this will be an intimate tome. In addition to the hundreds of photos accompanying the recipes, she shares dozens of personal photos, ranging from family members to Julia Child.

Stewart divides the book into seven chapters: Breakfast & Brunch; Soups & Salads; Cocktails; Hors d’Oeuvres; Dinner; Garden Sides; and Desserts. An appendix follows them: My Basic Pantry explains beef, chicken, vegetable, and turkey stocks, the ideal pastry crust, etc. She outlines her favorite kitchen tools, from the rolling pin to a sesame seed roaster.

In the first chapter, Breakfast & Brunch, Stewart launches with a basic offering: steamed eggs. This is simply a more effective approach to boiled eggs, with instructions anyone can handle. Knowing that her audience will have various skills, she offers a classic hollandaise sauce and an easy hollandaise sauce for artichokes with poached eggs and salmon. She includes her green juice formula, “an invaluable part of my [her] quest for aging gracefully.”

Stewart reflects her Polish heritage with her beet soup and potato and buttermilk soup. On the other end of the spectrum, she sometimes suggests elevating basic fare with truffles or caviar. Drinks include Martha-tinis, Martha-ritas, and a citrus alternative to the Bloody Mary, Mary’s Knees. Hors d’oeuvres range from deviled eggs and potato pancakes to oysters two ways (Rockefeller and Casino). A memory of crabbing with her father on New Jersey’s Shrewsbury River segues into her crabcake recipe. A tantalizing smashed baked potatoes section explains how and, intriguingly, why they should be smashed. 

The two largest sections of the book are Dinners (twenty-one recipes) and Desserts (twenty-two recipes). These sections contain some of the most challenging pieces. The time-intensive potato pierogi and paella recipes are ambitious but clearly worth the effort. Stewart follows the one ingredient dessert—orange granita—with the complex Cipriani classic meringue cake. 

When possible, vegetables come from her gardens and fruit from her trees; she raises chickens for their variety of eggs. She cites two specific residences: a farm in Bedford—where her greenhouses allow growth year-round—and a home on Maine’s Mount Desert Island. Using the best materials from the best sources is a major theme in Stewart’s cookery.  

The contents of the book represent a lifetime of travel. Whether in Ibiza, in the Spanish Balearics, or a café/bakery in Boston, she spent her career gathering the best gastronomic experiences to share with her followers, whether on television or through her magazine and books. 

The personal sections, woven throughout, are titled “Remembering.” Stewart’s memory for detail is extraordinary. Photos of her runway work accompany her days of modeling in Paris during her early college years. She describes her apartment on 101st St. and Riverside Drive in Manhattan, when she worked as a Wall Street stockbroker. In a handful of sentences, she paints a picture of the joys of marriage, pregnancy, and cooking every recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume One, by Julia Child, Simone Beck, and Louisette Bertholle. 

A major highlight is Dana Gallagher’s exquisite photos. Most take an entire page or even a two-page spread. They are bright, vivid, and truly elegant, but this is no surprise. Reflecting on a 1993 soufflés photo shoot, Stewart states, “My editors and I learned a lot on this photo shoot. We learned that we have to treat all food with great respect. No detail is too small.” 

Martha: The Cookbook arrives in time for the holidays. A self-described traditionalist, she presents turkey and ham preparations, ideal for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Pumpkin pie with phyllo crust shows a willingness for a twist on a popular dish. 

While she mentions many famous people and trendsetters, this outing comes down to celebrating family. She often mentions her mother, Big Martha, and her daughter, Alexa (both represented by recipes). She now teaches her granddaughter, Jude, as she taught Alexa. 

In her final words in the Introduction, Stewart sums up her goal: “Please enjoy the recipes we have featured and treat yourself, your family, and your friends to a little taste of my favorites—and do not forget to start compiling your own list of favorites to hand down to your loved ones.”

By Heidi Sutton

Twenty years ago, Theatre Three’s Douglas Quattrock decided to put down on paper an original bedtime story he had been telling his nieces and nephews for years. Joining forces with Jeffrey Sanzel, they created an adorable musical about a little elf and a tiny reindeer who teach us that “Christmas lies within our hearts.” Titled Barnaby Saves Christmas, it has become a beloved tradition that comes to life on the theater’s stage for the holidays.

It’s Christmas Eve and Santa’s workshop is a flurry of activity as elves Sam, Crystal and Blizzard make last minute preparations before they join Santa and his reindeer in delivering presents. The newest elf, Barnaby, is busy finishing a special request from Santa — a little stuffed bear with dark blue pants, buckles on his shoes and a bright yellow vest. 

When everyone else leaves on Santa’s sleigh, Barnaby soon realizes that the stuffed bear has been left behind and convinces Franklynne the littlest reindeer to help him track down Santa and give him the toy. Along the way they meet a Jewish family and learn all about Hanukkah and bump into an evil villain named S. B. Dombulbury who, with his partner in crime Irving, are stuffing chimneys with coal in order to steal all the presents. 

Directed by Colleen Britt, the show, featuring 9 adult cast members — Matthew J. Hoffman (Barnaby), Cassidy Rose O’Brien (Franklynne), Steven Uihlein (S.B. Dombulbury), Julia Albino (Sam), Jason Allyn (Santa, Andrew), Jason Furnari (Irving), Gina Lardi (Mrs. Claus, Sarah), Katy Snair (Blizzard, Rebecca) and Delaney Jessica (Crystal, Dalia) — is always evolving. For this special anniversary, Quattrock has added a new song, “Light the Candles,” with additional characters in the second act and the sound effects and lighting have reached new elevations.

Many of the actors are given a chance to shine with solos with special mention to Hoffman’s rendition of “Still With A Ribbon on Top,” Uihlein’s “S.B. Dombulbury,””Gina Lardi’s “Miracles,” and Allyn’s “Within Our Hearts,” all beautifully executed. 

With choreography by Sari Feldman, the holiday show is jam packed with singing (including a fun rap song) and dancing (even tap!), comedy, suspense, hypnosis, surprises and a fun chase scene through the theater your kids will love. It even snows on stage! The show utilizes the set of the theater’s current production of “A Christmas Carol,” giving it an authentic feel and the sparkly and elegant costumes by the multi-talented Jason Allyn complete the magic.

Kick off your holidays with Barnaby Saves Christmas and experience an afternoon of pure joy. Souvenir elves and reindeer are available for purchase before the show and during intermission and the entire cast will be in the lobby after the show for photos. 

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Theatre Three, 412 Main St., Port Jefferson presents Barnaby Saves Christmas through Dec. 28. Children’s theater continues with Hansel & Gretel from Jan. 24 to Feb. 8, Dorothy’s Adventures in Oz from Feb. 19 to March 29, The Adventures of Peter Rabbit from April 16 to May 10 and Snow White from May 29 to June. 21. All seats are $12. To order, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com.

Lacey Chabert in a scene from 'Hot Frosty.' Photo courtesy of Netflix

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Christmas is a time of giving: gifts, good cheer, and kind wishes. Christmas is also the time for an endless parade of holiday movies launched by every channel and streaming service. And, like a handful of coal, Netflix stuffed our stockings with the one-note, no-joke Hot Frosty. 

Writer Russell Hainline’s premise is simple. Depressed widow Kathy Barrett (Lacey Chabert), owner of Kathy’s Kafé, lives in the town of Hope Springs (subtle). Still grieving over the death of her husband to cancer, her life is falling apart: the roof leaks, the heat does not work, and she no longer cooks for herself, represented by a counter of empty takeout containers. However, other than that, she seems to be doing okay. Let’s call it grief light. 

Lacey Chabert in a scene from ‘Hot Frosty’ with Dustin Milligan. Photo courtesy of Netflix

Her friend, Mel (Sherry Miller), runs Reclaimed Rags, a second-hand clothing store across from the café. Mel gives Kathy a scarf with the “wise” advice: “You’ll never find the warmth unless you venture out into the cold.” Kathy graciously accepts the scarf but then notices that between two scarved snowmen is an Adonis-like ice sculpture without one. Feeling generous(?), she wraps the scarf around the sculpture, bringing it/him (Dustin Milligan) to life. (Don’t worry—the scarf covers the naughty bits.)

On the plus side, the adult fairy tale kicks into gear very quickly, without much backstory or exposition (or explanation). On the negative side, the adult fairy tale kicks into gear very quickly, without much backstory or exposition (or explanation). The writing is puerile, and Jerry Ciccoritti’s direction club fisted.

The animated sculpture crashes into Reclaimed Rags and steals some clothing, including a vest with the name “Jack.” Thus, he is called “Jack.” The next morning, Kathy finds Jack standing in front of the diner. Thinking he might need help—given his strange behavior—she brings him inside … because that is what one does with psychotics who say, “I was made of snow, now I’m made of not snow.” (Scintillating dialogue.) When he claims, “I’ve never had food before,” one questions why she does not call for help or simply runs screaming into the street. Instead, she takes him to the local doctor, Dottie (Katy Mixon Greer), who concludes that he might be the snowman he claims to be (for this, she went to medical school?). They agree not to take him to the police because the sheriff tends to overreact. 

Kathy moves him into her house, and the newly sentient Jack immediately falls for her. The rest of the interminable film focuses on their growing relationship and his ability to learn anything by watching television. (This includes the discovery that vampires are afraid of crosses. Very Christmasy.)

An unpleasant and fairly ugly encounter with a snow-banked cougar, Jane (Lauren Holly), concludes with Jack’s innocent punchline, “Do you want me to get behind you and push?” Fortunately, this thread goes nowhere besides landing Jack a maintenance job at the middle school. The majority of his work is decorating the gym for the winter dance.

The film is a mix of styles—like a Christmas gift bag of assorted pointy objects. (Each is different, but all are painful in their own ways.) The occasional joke that lands is a holiday miracle. (Though a Mean Girls reference is pretty smart.) There are two montages because one is not nauseatingly enough. 

A grating subplot focuses on the sheriff hunting for the person who smashed the clothing store’s glass. The officer is a parody of a spoof of a send-up of a take-off on small-town law enforcement. In a film of mostly poor moments, the usually hilarious Craig Robinson is saddled with some of the most eggnog-curdling dialogue in this (or any) film: “You can’t buy me breakfast. It might influence the investigation.” (Hilarious.) Joe Lo Truglio’s deputy sheriff makes Barney Fife look like Hamlet’s Horatio. The café/ice cube scene might rank as the unfunniest bit in holiday history.

Chabert and Milligan work well together, play it straight enough, and do not lack charm. But the material is so painfully underdeveloped and wrong-headed that they cannot mine a moment of tension in the ninety minutes. His declarations like “I still don’t understand how all of this is happening, but I am so glad you were the one who found me” are only matched by his constant statement of “I love you.” Will she say it back? Can she? Is she ready? (Spoiler alert. Yes.)

Corralling the underdeveloped townspeople, the film builds to a lazy finale—a Frosty the Snowman/E.T./It’s a Wonderful Life rip-off. (Yes, they can claim homage to the last one, but it is not.) A strong cast fails to shovel this slushy mess. (Even the outtake bloopers are not funny.)

Perhaps the film has created a new sub-genre: the Frenetically Lugubrious Christmas Fantasy Rom-Uncom. (Ho-Ho-No, Thank you.) Next year, instead of holiday fare like Hot Frosty, Netflix, please just give us the cheese-of-the month club.

By Julianne Mosher

Celebrating its 40th year, Theatre Three’s production of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol is as great as it is in the present, just as it has been in the past, and as it will be in the future. 

A pillar of the holiday season, not only in Port Jefferson but across Long Island, the Dickensian tale of Ebenezer Scrooge (Jeffrey Sanzel) and the ghosts of Christmas Past (Cassidy Rose O’Brien), Present (Scott Hofer) and Christmas Yet to Come (Steven Uihlein) is a story that taps into the hearts of the young and the old, making it the perfect way to kick off the season of giving. 

The theater opened its annual show on Nov. 9 to a packed-out house filled with an audience dressed in their best Christmas best. Young girls wore their red velvet dresses with bows, while fathers wore silly, ugly Christmas sweaters and Santa hats. Ushers greeted visitors to their seats in top hats and Victorian-era gowns, a nice touch to the show which is set in the mid-1800s.

When the curtains opened up, the stage turned into the dark, dreary streets of London where the poor and hungry begged for food. We are brought inside Ebenezer Scrooge’s office, that he once shared with the late Jacob Marley (Stephen T. Wangner), where he works during Christmas Eve — a holiday he absolutely despises. Scrooge’s nephew is Fred (Uihlein), a young man who is starting a family of his own, but who yearns for his uncle’s approval since it’s the last piece of his mother he has on earth after her death during childbirth. Scrooge, an angry, frugal man, wants nothing to do with the holiday, and isn’t shy about how he feels about it. Bah-humbug.

Scrooge has an underpaid, overworked clerk, Bob Cratchit (Ray Gobes Jr.), who is a man of simple means and a high spirit. Scrooge is unkind to him, as well, but reluctantly gives him off on Christmas Day. 

Later that night, Scrooge is visited by his former partner’s ghost. Marley warns Scrooge that he has the opportunity to avoid the same fate — a dire one where he roams the earth entwined in chains and money boxes because of his lifetime of greed and selfishness — with visits by three ghosts. He must listen to them or he will be cursed and spend eternity in the same purgatory as his friend.

The visits of the ghosts are done spectacularly. The Ghost of Christmas Past brings Scrooge back to scenes of his boyhood and young adulthood where we see the relationships between him, his family, his sister, Fan (Ash Stalker), Belle, his first love (Julia Albino) and his first job — an apprenticeship with Mr. Fezziwig and his wife (Scott Hofer and Ginger Dalton).

The Ghost of Christmas Present enters next and takes Scrooge to the homes of Fred and Bob Cratchit. Fred’s holiday party shows the group making fun of Scrooge, while the Christmas dinner with the Cratchit’s shows how poor the family of six copes with Scrooge’s poor wage. We meet Tiny Tim (Stanley Zinger), Cratchit’s ill son who the family prays gets stronger by the day. This opens Scrooge’s eyes. 

Enough so that when the Ghost of Christmas Future comes on stage, the audience lets out an audible gasp.

Upon the stage is a 13-foot grim reaper who towers over Scrooge and his grave. Scrooge watches his possessions be stolen and sold, while mourners mock him during his funeral. He begs for forgiveness to the reaper and he vows he’ll change for good. 

On Christmas morning, Scrooge is a new man. He sends a turkey to the Cratchit home, donates money to a charity he previously rejected and attends Fred’s Christmas party where he is welcomed with lovingly opened arms. The next day, Scrooge increases Cratchit’s wage in which Tiny Tim says the famous line, “God bless us, everyone.”

Theatre Three’s rendition of A Christmas Carol is always a treat, but this production was quite magical. Sanzel, who also serves as the show’s director, celebrated his 1,590th performance as the bitter, but complex, Scrooge — and he keeps getting better.

In fact, after performing the show for 40 years, the entire company has perfected the show. They have it down to a science with their special and unique adaptation, impressive set design (by Randall Parsons), stunning costumes (by Parsons and Jason Allyn) and fantastic lighting (Robert W. Henderson Jr.). After performing the show for four decades, we can’t wait to see how the next 40 look at Theatre Three. Don’t miss this one.

CAST and CREW: Julia Albino, Jason Allyn, Karin Bagan, Steven Barile, Jr., Kyle M. Breitenbach, James Bressler, Kelsie Curran, Ginger Dalton, Olivia Davis, Angelina Eybs, Sari Feldman, Roy Fleischer, Brad Frey, Jason Furnari, Christina Gobes, Ray Robes Jr., Skye Greenberg, Tim Haggerty, Kathleen Arabelle Han, Robert W. Henderson Jr., Scott Hofer, Patrick Hutchinson, Zach Kanakaris, Giovanni Ladd, Linda May, Cassidy Rose O’Brien, Randall Parsons, Mia Rofrano, William Roslak, Vivian Leigh Rumble, Jennifer Salvia, Jeffrey Sanzel, Aidan Sharkey, Ash Stalker, Amelia Theodorakis, Melissa Troxler, Steven Uihlein, Stephen T. Wangner and Stanley Zinger

Theatre Three, 412 Main St., Port Jefferson will present A Christmas Carol through Dec. 28. All tickets are $25 in November and range from $25 to $40 in December. To order, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com.

The 2024 cast of Theatre Three's 'A Christmas Carol.' Photo by Steve Able/Showbizshots.com
“Marley was dead, to begin with…”
The holiday season beings TONIGHT with the return of Long Island’s favorite holiday tradition!!!

Celebrate the season with the 40th annual production of A Christmas Carol at Theatre Three, 412 Main St., Port Jefferson from Nov. 9 to Dec. 28. Follow the miser Ebenezer Scrooge on a journey that teaches him the meaning of Christmas — past, present, and future. Tickets are $25 through November; $40 adults, $32 seniors and students, $25 children ages 5 to 12 in December. To order, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com

For Tickets:

 

Jeffrey Sanzel has portrayed Ebenezer Scrooge in 'A Christmas Carol' more than 1500 times. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
 A spirited foreword from Executive Artistic Director, Jeffrey Sanzel

By Stephanie Giunta

As the holiday season approaches, the air in Port Jefferson fills with the unmistakable spirit of Christmas—a joyous and abundant feeling that resonates throughout the community. Amid the festive hustle and the cherished traditions, we are thrilled to celebrate a special milestone: the 40th anniversary of Charles Dickens’ timeless classic, A Christmas Carol, at Theatre Three.

This enduring tale of redemption has been masterfully adapted year after year by Jeffrey Sanzel, who not only serves as the production’s director but also takes on the beloved and complex role of Ebenezer Scrooge. The cast’s heartfelt performances continue to attract both new audiences and long-time fans alike, with Sanzel sprinkling different nuances into the mix to keep the production unchanging yet fresh. 

In honor of the show’s ruby anniversary, I had the pleasure of speaking with Sanzel about his enduring passion for the role, some of his fondest memories, his unique adaptation of Scrooge, and more.

How many times have you played Scrooge in the production of A Christmas Carol?

The opening night of this year’s A Christmas Carol, November 9, will be my 1,590th performance.

How did you come about to play Scrooge? What first sparked your interest in the role?

I first played Scrooge when I was teaching at John F. Kennedy High School in Somers, New York. I produced and directed a student-faculty production. None of the teachers wanted to play Scrooge, so my assistant director suggested I do it. That was my first real encounter with the story beyond watching movies and cartoons growing up. I don’t think I had even read the story until then.

Are there any particularly memorable shows you can recall over the years?

During one performance there was torrential downpour, and we lost power. We ended up playing the rest of the show using lanterns. Another time, we had an onstage mishap and had to finish the show in the parking lot.

What are some of your favorite memories that you look back on?

I’ve worked with hundreds of actors over the years. Some of them grew up in the show—starting as The Girl/Want and going right through to Fan—even one who came back and played Belle.

There have been milestones—my 500th and 1,000th performances come to mind. Douglas Quattrock, a long time Bob Cratchit, his 500th was a special show. Probably, the most exciting and memorable was a special show we did in the 25th  anniversary season. It was the first year we had the new set—a brilliant design by Randall Parsons [complemented by Robert Henderson’s powerful lighting design]—the set we continue to use 15 seasons later. On the Sunday night of opening weekend, we had a performance just for A Christmas Carol veterans—actors, designers, technicians, front of house staff—all people with a connection to the production over two and a half decades. They were the best audience reacting to every new piece—a wall opening or steam coming off the goose.

In each year’s production, do you put a different twist on Scrooge or have you preferred consistency in persona?

As I am the adaptor, I am always reworking and tweaking the production. Sometimes I make large changes—rewriting scenes or removing dialogue and replacing it with tableau or music. As far as the character goes, I think it is influenced by who I am playing opposite. There was one year that I took a completely different approach to the character. I pulled him way back, took a lot of the vocal size and energy out of it. I was aiming to make him as real as possible. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a mess. My performance ended up lacking impact. Maybe it played well to the first few rows, but overall, I think I learned that a bit of “more” is important. With the exception of that year, the growth in the character has been gradual. I’m sure some years are better than others.

What are some lessons you have learned in playing a complex character like Scrooge? 

From a technical perspective, finding a moment in the few seconds offstage to take a drink of water. It’s a lot of talking!

I guess on a personal level, the theme is always how one person can make a difference for good or ill in the world.

We know that Scrooge has a change of heart and grows to love and exude the true meaning of Christmas. How does being a key part of A Christmas Carol impact your love and appreciation for the Christmas season?

My Christmas is A Christmas Carol. I am Jewish, so Christmas growing up was watching Christmas specials, maybe decorating a neighbor’s tree, that sort of thing. Obviously, after 37 years, I have a whole different experience. It is part of my life year-round and certainly from the end of September to the end of December.

Over the years, I’ve become a collector of A Christmas Carol memorabilia—books, tapes/DVDs, audio recordings, sketches and paintings, figurines, bookmarks, comic books, candle snuffers, trivets, board games…I’ll pretty much watch or read anything with A Christmas Carol in them. I’ve been to Dickens’ house in London. I met his great-grandson, Cedric Dickens, there.

I also have rituals. Before we go into rehearsal, I start by re-reading Tom Mula’s extraordinary Jacob Marley’s Christmas Carol—one of my favorite books. Immediately following every performance, I have to set-up for the next show—I won’t leave the building until that’s done. I’ve used certain props for over 30 years.  

Outside of A Christmas Carol, my favorite thing about the holiday is driving around looking at Christmas lights.

Theatre Three’s A Christmas Carol is a long-term collaborative effort. My predecessor, artistic director, Bradlee Bing; managing director Vivian Koutrakos, who has been the show’s champion even prior to my coming to the theatre, resident musical director, Ellen Michelmore, and associate artistic director, Brent Erlanson, both who have passed away, made contributions that still resonate with the current production. Actors, designers, and behind-the-scenes people give a piece of themselves and leave a mark on the production.

And then, of course, the audience that comes year after year. Having done it for nearly four decades, I’m now meeting the children of the people who saw the show as children. Paul Davis wrote a comprehensive study of the story, The Lives and Times of Ebenezer Scrooge (1990). He captures its power: “[Charles Dickens] may have framed our thoughts and established the broad outlines of the story, but the Carol is rewritten each Christmas, and Scrooge, an altered spirit, appears anew with each retelling.”

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Theatre Three, 412 Main St., Port Jefferson will present A Christmas Carol from November 9 through December 28. All tickets are $25 in November and range from $25 to $40 in December. To order, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com.

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Tom Hanks and Robin Wright in a scene from 'Here'. Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures Entertainment

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In 1989, Raw published Richard McGuire’s six-page comic strip, Here. The thirty-five panels followed a single location but spanned 500,957,406,073 B.C. to 2033 A.D. Often, the panels contained other images within, depicting multiple time frames simultaneously. In 2014, Pantheon Books published McGuire’s full-length graphic novel. The 304 pages traced the same space from 3,000,500,000 B.C. to A.D. 22,175, concentrating on the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, predominantly focusing on the living room of a house built in 1907.

As a senior thesis project in 1991, students from Rochester Institute of Technology’s Department of Film and Video created a six-minute film of the original comic. An immersive V.R. film based on the full-length novel was designed and produced by British Fifty Nine Productions, under the direction of Lysander Ashton, with music by Anna Meredith.  

Now, director Robert Zemeckis brings his adaptation to the big screen. The prolific Zemeckis broke out with the 1978 I Wanna Hold Your Hand. His work includes Romancing the Stone, the Back to the Future trilogy, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Death Becomes Her, and Contact, among others. His 1994 Forest Gump won six Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Actor (for Tom Hanks). Over the years, Zemeckis has teamed with Hanks on Pinocchio, The Polar Express, and Cast Away. Here reunites Hanks with his Gump co-star, Robin Wright. 

Zemeckis (who co-wrote the screenplay with Eric Roth) uses the basic idea and framework of the novel but instead chooses to highlight on the twentieth-century Young family that occupies the house. While still weaving back and forth through time, it eventually settles into a more chronological telling of the one family.

The first eight minutes progress through thousands of years of history (dinosaurs, volcanic eruption or asteroids, Ice Age), but then Here slows down to offer a handful of earlier years, including a native American couple and their tribe, as well as a view of the house across the street where Benjamin Franklin’s son, the loyalist William, lived. Of the former, the indigenous people seem cast from a 1960s history museum diorama. The late eighteenth-century Revolutionary War moments feel like a community theatre production of 1776. 

The earliest inhabitants of the house, the Harters (Michelle Dockery and Gwilym Lee), serve little function except establishing occupancy and a nod to the Influenza Epidemic of 1918 (with a parallel later with the COVID pandemic). A slight subplot about aviation grates. The Beekmans follow—Stella (Ophelia Lovibond) and her inventor husband, Leo (David Fynn), who provide a humorous and interesting diversion.

Zemeckis trades the book’s panoramic and epic nature to emphasize the Young family’s day-to-day struggles. Recently discharged from the service, World War II veteran Al Young (Paul Bettany) purchases the house for his wife, Rose (Kelly Reilly). Here, they raise their family—two boys and a girl. The oldest, Richard (Hanks), impregnates his girlfriend Margaret (Wright) on the living room sofa. The couple weds, taking up residence in the house. What follows is years of joys and sorrows, trials and tribulations—marriage and children, illness and death. 

Throughout their story, flashes of the earlier inhabitants recur, as well as the Harris family (Nikki Amuka-Bird and Nicholas Pinnock), who take the house when Richard sells it. Perhaps Zemeckis is trying to draw parallels between these disparate worlds—but, unlike McGuire—he does not succeed.  

Here veers towards the saccharine when it is trying to be its most sincere. The Hallmark (card, not network) feel hovers around most of the stiff dialogue. Instead of simple, the exchanges feel simplistic. The messages about love, family, dreams, art, and loss seem predictable and lack anything bordering on revelatory. The best-landing moments can be attributed to the Young quartet and the inherent honesty in their performances, even when saddled with two- and even one-dimensional material.

From a visual standpoint, Here is almost a one-camera set-up. We view the living room straight on as it evolves and shifts, often picture-in-picture(-in picture). The effect alternates between clever and precious. Sometimes, the entire experience feels like Disney’s Carousel of Time. And speaking of Disney, the A.I. intelligence Metaphysic Life, used for face-swapping and de-aging the actors in real-time (instead of post-production), presents a young Tom Hanks looking more like the puppet Pinocchio than his real boy counterpart. 

In the end, the film works and doesn’t work. For some audiences, they will embrace a concept taken to its fullest and a sometimes touching family saga. For others, Here is a gimmick with a center that is human, but not inspiring, tapping into soap opera plots that overstay the hundred-minute running time. Gertrude Stein said of her hometown, Oakland, “There is no there there.” Ultimately, with Zemeckis’s film, there is no Here there either.

Rated PG-13, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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Grace Delaney, Andrew Garfield and Florence Pugh in a scene from the film. Photo by Peter Mountain/A24

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

To describe the plot of a non-linear story chronologically seems to be counterintuitive. At the very least, the approach undermines the essence of the creator’s intent in selecting the structure. That is true in the cast of We Live in Time. Director John Crowley (Brooklyn) and screenwriter Nick Payne (the Tony Award-nominated Constellations) constructed (or deconstructed) the decade-long relationship of Tobias Durand (Andrew Garfield) and Almut Brühl (Florence Pugh). 

As a film, it easily ticks all the boxes of romantic drama: a meet-cute (in this case, she hits him with her car, only causing a slight trauma), courtship, struggle, illness, careers, frustrations, fertility, and family. There are dates and montages, lingering looks, and tasteful scenes of physicality. These well-known and well-worn tropes play with sensitivity and style, even from a standard approach. But in this case, by ignoring the standard narrative and presenting the story as almost a shuffled stack of photos, the often peripatetic tapestry provides greater depth. 

Almut’s second bout with ovarian cancer is presented first, giving an unusual resonance to both her first illness and the birth of their child, Ella (Grace Delaney, who manages to be adorable without being precocious). 

The individual details—she is a former figure skater turned Bavarian fusion chef/restaurant owner, and he is a Weetabix representative—are handled smartly. At the beginning of the timeline, Tobias is on the cusp of a divorce; the issue of a pen to sign the papers is simultaneously hilarious and poignant. Nothing solely functions as a punchline, and every element serves as textural development. 

Central to much of the later conflict is whether Almut will enter the Bocuse d’Or, one of the most prestigious international cooking competitions. Wedding preparations, along with chemo treatment, are deftly threaded. 

The “what if’ element of life choices lands differently when you know what will happen. Something as simple as how to properly crack an egg or why one should get a child a dog takes on entirely new dimensions when presented from multiple time perspectives. The film even knows when to allow rom-com elements—an aggressive extraction from an overly tight parking space or a visit to an amusement park. Somehow, the filmmakers manage to elevate the predictable. 

Crowley has assembled an excellent cast. Adam James, as Almut’s former boss and mentor, Simon Maxson, hits the right notes, reflecting the pressured world of high-end cuisine competition. Lee Braithwaite is appropriately awkward as Jade, Almut’s commis (novice chef), who assists her. 

Nikhil Parmar and Kerry Godliman elevate the convenience store workers who assist with Ella’s birth, making them real and honest rather than playing the scene for easy laughs. Lucy Briers makes the oncologist a person rather than a plot delivery system.

But at heart, We Live in Time is a two-hander. While the ensemble strongly supports the principal characters, it is the story of Tobias and Almut. Perhaps the most overused and indefinable term applied to performances is “chemistry.” However, whatever “chemistry” actually is, Garfield and Pugh have it. Their attraction and connection are wholly displayed, and their frustrations and disappointments are believable. The depth of the relationship never feels false, precious, or theatrical. They achieve that rare symbiosis by simply being present with each other. 

Garfield makes Tobias an anxious, occasionally twitchy type A. He is a notetaker and highly emotional, with feelings always bubbling to the surface. In contrast, Pugh’s Almut is a portrait of stillness and silence, intensity that breaks into a smile of gentle joy or erupts into a seething, low-grade anger. They are perfectly complementary.

The fact that the audience always knows not just where they are but when they are is a tribute to Crowley, Payne, and a gifted design team that manages to ground every moment in detailed reality. The film is beautifully paced. Unlike the turgid It Ends with Us (that could have been timed by a calendar), the playing time of just under two hours never flags.

We Live in Time offers a love story told in an unusual and appropriately challenging way. Life’s underlying interconnectedness and complexity are presented with dark humor, wit, and humanity, with two powerful, memorable central performances.

Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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Tony Hale and Anna Kendrick in a scene from the film. Photo from Netflix

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In the world of truth-is-stranger-than-fiction, Netflix’s Woman of the Hour tackles the story of serial killer Rodney Alcala and his September 13, 1978, appearance on The Dating Game. Directed by Anna Kendrick and written by Ian McDonald, the film tells the story through bachelorette Cheryl Bradshaw (played by Kendrick), who selected him, focusing on her experience on the show and dealing with systemic sexism. The film premiered on September 8, 2023, to a positive response at the Toronto Film Festival.

Actor Bradshaw scrapes by in Los Angeles, attempting to make her way into film and television. “I’m working very hard and accomplishing very little,” she reflects. After a particularly depressing audition, her agent gets her a spot on the popular game show. Reluctantly, Bradshaw agrees to appear. The film is mostly taken up with the time from her arrival at the studio through her segments on the show. Intercut are several of Alcala’s horrific rape and murders, beginning with one in Wyoming in 1977, which opens the film.

During the show’s taping, Bradshaw goes rogue, changing the questions to more pointed and revealing interrogations of the three bachelors. The first proves to be a bit of a fool, the second inappropriate, with Alcala coming off as smooth, witty, and a touch thoughtful. 

Bradshaw chooses Alcala, and the second bachelor warns her not to go near him. After leaving the studio, Bradshaw and Alcala have a few drinks in a nearby bar. Quickly, Bradshaw realizes that there is something off about him and exits the bar with him in pursuit. She is only saved by a group of men coming out of the studio.

In her directorial debut, Kendrick proves to be first-rate. She instinctually knows what to show and when to pull back, maintaining a constant tension in the film’s brisk ninety-minute running time.

Sometimes, Alcala’s crimes are shown in all their horror; other times, they are suggested by a sun-drenched landscape with just the sound of the victim. The film is spot-on as an indictment of toxic masculinity and misogyny leading to violence. In both the casual dismissal of women to the horrific rape and torture, Kendrick creates a taught, unflinching, and brutal film. Even the use of Alcala’s photography, particularly the enhanced sound of the shutter clicks, adds to the exceptional storytelling. Additionally, the film captures the visual and auditory essence of 1970s California.

Some of the film’s wisdom is courtesy of the make-up artist, Marilyn (a very strong Denalda Williams): “Is it possible to get a guy in this town who isn’t a total maniac?” Later, she follows this up: “The question beneath the question. Which of you will hurt me?” Her casual statement delivers a wallop and succinctly but pointedly expresses the overall thesis.

As a true crime docudrama, Woman of the Hour is less successful. McDonald has fictionalized a great deal for storytelling purposes, and one must at least pause to consider the validity of the choices. Most viewers will take the film at face value without looking into the actual facts and history. Since the film is short, much information is changed or left out.

The only subplot deals with an audience member, Laura (Nicolette Robinson), recognizing Alcala as the man who most likely murdered her friend after a beach party encounter. The way the security guard deals with her accusation is chilling. Unfortunately, Laura is a fiction. This is one of many introduced changes and additions without indicating where liberties were taken. In reality, Bradshaw stuck to the innuendo-laden questions, and the bachelors were dissimilar to the film’s counterparts.

Kendrick, a first-rate actor, shows dimension, fear, strength, and resolve. Always watchable, she delivers at every moment. Daniel Zovatto succeeds in making Alcala wholly plausible—a sadistic, dangerous, and threatening narcissist who knows how to turn on the charm. Tony Hale is appropriately sleazy and short-tempered as the gameshow host Ed Burke, based on Jim Lange. Some of the finest moments belong to Autumn Best as the runaway, Amy, who survives Alcala’s attack. Her raw performance resonates to her final cut-off scream. (However, the reality of the runaway’s story is very different than that offered in the film.)

At the time of his appearance on The Dating Game, Alcala was responsible for the murder of five women and the attempted murder of eight-year-old Tali Shapiro; he was on the FBI’s 10 Most Wanted Fugitives List. He had served thirty-four months for child molestation and spent two-and-a-half years in prison for giving drugs to a thirteen-year-old girl. 

Because there were no background checks—or vetting of any kind—Alcala easily landed a spot on the show. Two years after his Dating Game appearance, Alcala was convicted of the murder of twelve-year-old Robin Samsoe and sentenced to death. The overturned verdict caused a 1986 retrial, where he was found guilty and sentenced to death (the ruling was overturned in 2011). While remaining on California’s death row, he died at the age of natural causes at the age of seventy-seven. Some of this information is presented in the final scroll, but most are not. Alcala was directly linked to eight murders, but his actual crimes could have encompassed up to one hundred and thirty victims. 

Those looking for a detailed account of Alcala’s crimes should seek the three-part documentary series Dating Death. However, viewers open to more flexible telling will find that Woman of the Hour viscerally lays bare both the killer and danger of a hyper-toxic macho culture.

Rated R, the film is now streaming on Netflix.