Shall We Smote?

All the world's a lie and all the men and women merely liars.

Which I suppose included me and my theater-loving companion and definitely refered to Henley Street Theater's production of "The Liar."

Seated in the second row at the Gottwald Playhouse at CenterStage, we had a ringside view for a French farce from the 17th century.

You know the kind: breasts falling out of dresses, elaborate sexual innuendo and non-stop laughter (like the 70-something next to us who lasciviously laughed at every dirty innuendo).

"The story's so piquant!"

The Artistic Director thanked us for coming and did a quick pep talk after noting the rainy day audience.

"You're a small but potent crowd, I feel sure," Ricks said.

And all of us ready for some cosmic fiction.

The play had been both translated and adapted for modern audiences, making for a satisfying combination of rhyming wordplay and modern references.

"What charm is your memory cursed with?"

There was also a breakdown of the fourth wall with characters speaking directly to us.

When the liar of the title gives his first speech, his friend points to him, saying dryly, "The exposition."

As if we hadn't noticed.

"Is it not a man's job to flatter?"

Actually, I think that it is.

The play benefited from a strong cast who almost never tripped over the iambic pentameter that dominated the dialog.

Only when the liar is forced to admit his love for Lucrece does he resort to prose.

"One who loves asks no leave; they just adore."

I laughed out loud repeatedly...at the interior rhymes, the double meanings and the brilliant uses of mis-pronunciation for the sake of maintaining a rhyme scheme.

"Did I say the girl was deep? She's an ocean!"


Like the Shakespeare it was no doubt partially inspired by (including a few direct rip-offs), there were twins, unknown siblings, mistaken identities and a tidy ending.

And, being a farce, groan-worthy lines.

"You may be a bi-valve, but you're my valve."

Does it get any more romantic than that?

Not on a pouring down rainy day, so after the pleasure of two hours of verse and love (and even a talkback with the actors), we were starving.

And, like last Sunday late afternoon, we ended up at Burger Bach after finding Cellar Door closed.

Unlike last Sunday at BB, we eschewed bivalves at the four-screen bar for (basic and lamb) burgers at a corner booth with a view of a silvery sky.

Okay, with a few oysters to start.

My favorite thing about their wine list is the South African choices so it was a bit of a buzz kill to hear that they were out of the Warwick Pinotage.

We left Stellenbosch behind and moved to the Western Cape, sharing the Boekenhoutskloof Wolf Trap 2011, an earthy Syrah, Mourvedre, Viognier blend perfect for a damp, cool April evening.

When the bottle and burgers were gone we knew the absence of desserts would send us down the street to Secco.

Already enjoying the rainy evening there was a Blood Brother and his crew up front and over at the bar, the teacher out late on a school night.

She clarified why that sometimes happens despite her usual habit of early bedtimes.

"It's always because of a dude, Karen" she explained to me like she was talking to an idiot.

There we also found olive oil and rosemary gelato with sea salt (exquisite taste and texture) and hot, freshly fried zeppoles to accompany our digestifs.

Our last stop was Commercial Taphouse for Labragenda, a four piece doing progressive jazz to far too few people.

I recognized three of the four: the band's namesake Larry Branch, the guitar player from the RVA Big Band and the bassist from Marionette.

They did some originals, a terrific piece called "Fiction" by Glows in the Dark's Scott Burton and closed the first set with an extended "Tailgating."

For their second set, they played some Journey,  Milli Vanilli and a little Nickelback.

Kidding.

Haven't you heard? "Liars aren't born, they're fabricated."

Who's the Greatest Star?

Highlight #1 - Ice cream and deflowering

Visit #4 to the James River Film Festival at the Visual Arts Center was frigid (too much a/c) and charming (foreign and subtitled).

The short, "Bregman/As Follows" was about a Jewish Latin American kid about to have his bar mitzvah.

He studies, he practices, he has the ceremony and party.

And then dad takes him to lose his virginity. When he picks him up, he asks how it was.

The boy turns up the car radio.

Dad asks the boy if he wants to go for ice cream. Fin.

A charming film about a 13-year old being thrown into the deep waters of manhood.

Next was "A Useful Life," a Uruguayan film about a guy who'd worked in an art house cinema for 25 years.

When it closes, he has to figure out what to do with himself.

Like many a confirmed bachelor, he has no idea.

It was shot in black and white and the lead is  played by a Uruguayan film critic, making for a particularly un-actorly performance.

I saw it as addressing the philosophical question, what do you do when everything you know goes away?

I seem to recall addressing that very issue just a few years ago myself, but not in nearly so stylish a black and white film.

Highlight #2- Half priced and washed out

Sunday supper came courtesy of Carytown's new gastropub, Burger Bach, and I went in eager to try a grass-fed, organic burger.

Instead we bellied up to a bar with four screens (a major negative and in hindsight it would have behooved us to sit at the community table and face Thompson Street) and went seafood.

Turns out every day from 4-6 is half off mussels, oysters and shrimp.

Each came with the option of four or five preparations, so we got mussels in a traditional sauce (garlic, shallots, parsley, lemon, white wine), oysters casino (bacon, peppers, onions, Parmesan) and shrimp in a French sauce (Dijon mustard, shallots, cream, garlic and tarragon).

The place had a borderline chain feel despite being a standalone, the wine list was all New World (although no U.S.) so there were several good South African choices and tons of Australian and New Zealand.

The music was spot on, doing enough interesting alternative to keep my ears pricked.

Anytime I hear Washed Out in a restaurant two night before I'll see them play out gets major points.

A stroll down Cary Street wound up at Amici where the front was completely open in the beautiful evening air.

Lots of people were catching a pre-show meal before Allison Krause but we just wanted dessert: panna cotta and chocolate mousse with a light breeze blowing in from the street.

Highlight #3: Song for a Ukrop

The Ghostlight Party at Richmond Triangle Players had been on my calendar for a month since I always seem to be out of town when they occur.

I knew from the organizer (a fabulous bartender and chatter) that it promised to be a rollicking good time and it was.

We arrived at 8:00 for naught; by the time it did begin, host Matt came out in a black bustier, panties, fishnets, black heels and lipstick.

"Sorry for the late start. Clearly we're on drag time," he said to much laughter.

And that's how the party began and I use party loosely because you pay your five bucks and you're at the party.

It's worth it for the parade of local theater talent who show up at one point or another during the four-plus hour soiree.

One of tonight's guests was actress Susan Sanford, whom I first saw in "The Merry Wives of Windsor Farms" so long ago that neither she nor I would want to admit it.

Although I still remember it as one of the cleverest adaptations of the Bard I've seen.

Back to my point, which was that despite having seen her in many shows, I had no idea she had such a great singing voice.

When called to the stage and heralded as "the best diva here," she was quick to toss an "Oh, shut up!" over her shoulder.

Everyone was a ham and it was great fun watching them tackle theater music whether they remembered every lyric or not ("Not the point," the host Matt insisted).

And it's a theater-savvy audience with people saying things to each other like, "You can't go wrong with a Richard Rodgers."

Matt switched to a leather jacket, cuffed up girl's jeans and hot pink platform pumps to sing a pouty happy birthday to Ted Ukrop.

Ted allowed that Matt's legs were the best he'd seen in a while.

Sarah Porter got up to do "A Single Tear" (and in Italian, too; it was impressive) since it's the 100th anniversary of the Titanic.

"Do we applaud that?" Matt ruminated out loud to the audience.

Good question. There was a smattering of applause.

We heard "Because the Night" and Joe Jackson's "Breaking us in Two," resulting in a funny moment when Andrew Hamm stopped playing piano and singing and said accusingly to Liz Blake-White, "Wait, you're not supposed to be singing the harmony there."

Her guilty face said it all.

One showstopper was Sanford doing "I'm the Greatest Star" from "Funny Girl" except that she substituted names Streisand wouldn't have known.

Instead of singing "Hey, Mr. Keeney, here I am!" she substituted "Hey, Mr. Kniffen, Hey, Mrs. Piersol, Hey, Mr. Maupin, Hey, Mr. Patton, here I am!" to make it RVA-funny.

And don't get me started about the two guys who shall remain nameless singing "Suddenly, Seymour" to each other  as they tried not to crack up.

One guy was asked to remove his shirt before he sang (actually there was also unzipping of his pants).

Once we admired his body, we heard his beautiful singing voice.

That's just how they roll at the Ghostlight party.

The whole evening was truly like a party; the bar was open, there was all kinds of food (little savory meat roll-ups) and sweets (eclairs and cupcakes) and later snacks (pizza arrived around 11:30).

If you didn't want to hear a song, you went to the lobby and gabbed away.

And Matt and Maggie kept the whole show rolling along, collecting names of people who wanted to perform when not dancing or singing backup (Maggie) and making witty and/or dirty commentary between songs (Matt).

Both played mic stand at one point or another.

But let's be real here. Maggie did her job in flats and Matt was working in five-inch heels and major eye makeup.

You gotta give a man credit where credit is due.

That said, we couldn't have asked for two better hosts for an evening of divas, male and female.

By the time we left, all I could think was "Baby, Hit Me One More Time."

Scott's Addition has the best piano bar in Richmond.

I'd be a fool to be out of town for the next one.