Blake Stadnik (left) and Richard Trujillo in "Best Laid Plans."                                 Photo by Steve Murdock

            Inside the program handed out at the 10th Avenue Arts Center downtown for performances of the Vantage Theatre production of “Best Laid Plans" is a card furnished by the San Diego Center for the Blind that’s embossed with the braille alphabet and numbers used by the sightless.
            That tells you how seriously those behind this world premiere play take showing us how the blind learn to read in a different way, how to use numbers, how to adapt to a world without visuals.
            In many ways, Robert Salerno’s drama about a young architect who loses his sight after an operation to remove a tumor from his brain is a series of lessons in re-learning how to live. Under the tutelage of a visiting nurse named Moses (Richard Trujillo), the devastated Lucas (Blake Stadnik) is taught how to use a cane, how to navigate unfamiliar and potentially dangerous spaces, how to go about everyday tasks that before he took for granted and, most of all, how to call upon his other senses to compensate for the loss of his sight and, ultimately, to even enhance the life he leads after the surgery.
               But there’s more.
         In short order, Moses becomes the incarnation of none other than Ludvig von Beethoven himself, the master composer who lost his hearing and yet created some of the most timeless classical music in history afterward.
            “Best Laid Plans,” a welcome directorial return from Sam Woodhouse, would be compelling even without the Beethoven conceit. The growth of Lucas psychologically and physically, his acceptance of his condition and the bravery he demonstrates in rising above it are inspiring and performed with dignity and commitment by Stadnik, who is visually impaired.
            Having Beethoven – in period clothes and wig – on the scene to teach and motivate Lucas turns labored and platitudinous at times. But Trujillo, who told me in an interview for the San Diego Union-Tribune that this is the role of a lifetime for him and who has a hearing disability, is a powerful and irresistible force.
             The question of whether a suddenly blinded architect can continue his career, one posed early in the story, is unfathomable, seemingly unanswerable.
             That there is an uplifting answer, that the “best laid plans” can be re-planned and not lost, is this new work’s payoff.
            The first act in particular runs longer than it should and a showdown scene with Lucas’ blustering former employer ridiculing and interrupting like Donald Trump in mid-debate could use some toning down.
            Otherwise inspiring are sequences of recorded music from Beethoven’s peerless and beautiful canon. Intermittent use of projections also contribute to the scope of this mostly two-handed production. (Steve Murdock and Lee Ann Kim appear in smaller roles.)
            Salerno’s play is based on a news story he read about a real-life young architect who became blind, Chris Downey. No wonder that “Best Laid Plans” feels so authentic and will elicit such serious thought and empathy from an audience.
           As I walked to my car after the opening night performance, I toyed with the notion that perhaps Beethoven wasn’t really there, in Lucas’ life. That maybe Moses pretended to be Beethoven as a strategy to get through to Lucas, to move him. Or was the Beethoven “character” never there at all – Lucas found the strength and courage  in himself to restart his life?
            Only playwright Salerno knows for certain. But it doesn’t matter, really. The truth is that human beings are resilient and inherently courageous beings, and that at times we all need help from someone else – even from another lifetime – to show us the way.
            “Best Laid Plans” runs through Sept. 22 at the Tenth Avenue Arts Center downtown.

Sasha Velour stars in the biographical "Velour A Drag Spectacular."                   Photo by Rich Soublet II

            A few years ago, a journalism student of mine at San Diego State wrote for my class a profile of SDSU alumnus Shane James, better known as drag queen Amber St. James. St. James had recently appeared at Dragstravaganza, an annual show hosted by the school.
            Cut to Sunday night and the opening of “Velour A Drag Extravaganza,” a world premiere at La Jolla Playhouse co-produced with NYC-based Tectonic Theatre Project. Among the supporting cast doing their own drag performances were Ezra Reaves, Moscato Sky and Amber St. James.
            I begin with this not because of its synchronicity. Looking back, when I read the student’s profile of St. James I was pretty baffled by the subject. After seeing Sasha Velour’s show I have to say that though drag theater isn’t to my taste, I understand much better why someone becomes a drag performer and what it means to his, her or their life and identity.
            Velour created this show with Moises Kaufman (who directs) based on Velour’s book “The Big Reveal.” Framing all the kinetic, uber-produced drag numbers are monologue sequences augmented by film clips in which Velour takes us from childhood to the beginning years of an intrepid professional career in drag. Some of this is explained in fun; much of it is heartfelt.
            Maybe I was in the minority on opening night. First and foremost, “Velour A Drag Extravaganza” is a drag show, bigger and more technically sophisticated (sometimes jaw-dropping) than what you’d see in a club. The audience in the Playhouse’s Potiker Theatre resounded with “woooo’s” and “wooo-hoo’s” and shrieks of delight. Some were clad in drag themselves, and at the very least pink boas abounded.
            Sasha Velour is smart and likable and a consummate show-person. Working with the equally smart Kaufman (“The Laramie Project,” “Here There Are Blueberries”), they’ve created a work that, as I said earlier, will appeal largely to fans but that should entertain a general theater audience.
            I won’t attempt to describe the wigs or outfits Velour wears during the evening. Couldn’t possibly do justice to them. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t laud Diego Montoya Studio’s costume design, David Rockwell’s scenic design, lighting by Amanda Zieve, aerial design by Angela Phillips and projection design by Cosette “Ettie” pin.
            Velour’s bio narrative is constructed around a storytelling device that I won’t spoil by explaining. Just go with the flow of the story – of Velour’s grandmother who indulged a little boy dressing up, of a mother who supported Velour through her dying day, of those who helped, doubted or judged Velour over the years.
            Velour has many messages for the audience that can’t reasonably compete with the flash and phantasmagoria of the production numbers. But Velour’s closing performance of “My Way” pulls everything together.
            I wonder what Sinatra would think.
            “Velour A Drag Spectacular!” runs through Sept. 15 at La Jolla Playhouse’s Potiker Theatre.

Sasha Velour stars in a show based on the performer's book "The Big Reveal." Photo courtesy of La Jolla Playhouse

            A few years ago, a journalism student of mine at San Diego State wrote for my class a profile of SDSU alumnus Shane James, better known as drag queen Amber St. James. St. James had recently appeared at Dragstravaganza, an annual show hosted by the school.
            Cut to Sunday night and the opening of “Velour A Drag Extravaganza,” a world premiere at La Jolla Playhouse co-produced with NYC-based Tectonic Theatre Project. Near the finale of the bio-drag show starring Sasha Velour a segment was given over to three “stage crew” members. Proceeding to do their own drag performances were Ezra Reaves, Moscato Sky and Amber St. James.
            I begin with this not because of its synchronicity. Looking back, when I read the student’s profile of St. James I was pretty baffled by the subject. After seeing Sasha Velour’s show I have to say that though drag theater isn’t to my taste, I understand much better why someone becomes a drag performer and what it means to his, her or their life and identity.
            Velour created this show with Moises Kaufman (who directs) based on Velour’s book “The Big Reveal.” Framing all the kinetic, uber-produced drag numbers are monologue sequences augmented by film clips in which Velour takes us from childhood to the beginning years of an intrepid professional career in drag. Some of this is explained in fun; much of it is heartfelt.
            Maybe I was in the minority on opening night. First and foremost, “Velour A Drag Extravaganza” is a drag show, bigger and more technically sophisticated (sometimes jaw-dropping) than what you’d see in a club. The audience in the Playhouse’s Potiker Theatre resounded with “woooo’s” and “wooo-hoo’s” and shrieks of delight. Some were clad in drag themselves, and at the very least pink boas abounded.
            Sasha Velour is smart and likable and a consummate show-person. Working with the equally smart Kaufman (“The Laramie Project,” “Here There Are Blueberries”), they’ve created a work that, as I said earlier, will appeal largely to fans but that should entertain a general theater audience.
            I won’t attempt to describe the wigs or outfits Velour wears during the evening, or those worn by the “stage hand” performers. Couldn’t possibly do justice to them. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t laud Diego Montoya Studio’s costume design, David Rockwell’s scenic design, lighting by Amanda Zieve, aerial design by Angela Phillips and projection design by Cosette “Ettie” pin.
            Velour’s bio narrative is constructed around a storytelling device that I will not spoil by explaining. Just go with the flow of the story – of Velour’s grandmother who indulged a little boy dressing up, of a mother who supported Velour through her dying day, of those who helped, doubted or judged Velour over the years.
            Velour has many messages for the audience that can’t reasonably compete with the flash and phantasmagoria of the production numbers. But Velour’s closing performance of “My Way” pulls everything together.
            I wonder what Sinatra would think.
            “Velour A Drag Spectacular!” runs through Sept. 15 at La Jolla Playhouse’s Potiker Theatre.

Melissa Musial (center) in "Beautiful: The Carole King Musical."                          Karli Cadel Photography

            I first saw “Beautiful:  The Carole King Musical” eight years ago at the Pantages Theatre in Hollywood with Abby Mueller portraying the pop music icon. I remember enjoying it but very little specifically.
            Happily, a highly entertaining production of “Beautiful” at Moonlight Amphitheatre in Vista reminded me of all of this show’s charms.
            Some so-called jukebox musicals strain to weave a through-line in between the star’s hit songs. “Beautiful,” which was written by Douglas McGrath, does so organically, telling the story of King’s ascension from teenage dreamer to songwriter-for-hire (with husband Gerry Goffin) to record-breaking solo artist. In “Beautiful,” musical performances don’t happen because the narrative is dragging. King/Goffin or King songs aren’t thrown in out of context. What’s more, the dramatized portions are well-acted, involving and anything but filler.
            As at the cavernous Pantages, “Beautiful” benefits from the spacious Moonlight stage, particularly when re-creating producer/music publisher Don Kirshner’s busy studios or the famous Brill Building in NYC. It’s also conducive to accommodating production sequences when groups like the Drifters and the Shirelles perform their choreographed covers of King and Goffin’s songs.
            At Moonlight, Melissa Musial demonstrates her acting and singing chops as Carole Klein, then King. This is her second go-round in “Beautiful,” having played the minor supporting role of teenage Carole’s friend Betty in a production at La Mirada Theatre in L.A. She’s graduated with honors to the starring part and like Abby Mueller at the Pantages relies on her own vocal prowess without trying to imitate King.
            Brandon Keith Rogers, Tony Manero in last year’s production of “Saturday Night Fever” at Moonlight, is the troubled Gerry Goffin, and he has a better show to work with this time around.
            The standout supporting cast members are Allison Spratt Pearce and Bryan Banville as King and Goffin’s songwriting rivals – and friends – Cynthia Weill and Barry Mann. They brighten the stage every minute they’re on it, even when the two characters are squabbling.
            A terrific ensemble also includes Sandy Campbell as King’s unsolicited-advice-imparting mother, Dan Mason as a Don Kirshner probably funnier than he was in real life, and notable in musical performances Janaya Mahealani Jones, Brooke Henderson and Erica Marie Weisz.
            I’ve been a near-lifelong admirer and fan of Carole King. This show is a testament to the enduring quality and emotive power of her songwriting. I still get choked up hearing “Will You Love Me Tomorrow?”, “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman” and “It’s Too Late,” all from her landmark 1971 album “Tapestry.” But even in the early ‘60s days collaborating with Goffin, King was a musical composer of the rarest kind, one who could write the two-to-three-minute radio-friendly pop song and never repeat herself. She – and Goffin, whose lyrics were a perfect match – had an intuition for what would soar up the charts.
            “Beautiful” shows us that King’s intuition also led her to recognize after her split with Goffin and as the record industry evolved that writing hits for other people was no longer a viable career path. It took guts, which King had plenty of, to move to L.A. and record on her own.
            It’s not an overstatement to say that “Tapestry” was and is one of the most popular albums of all time.
            “Beautiful” also shines a deserved spotlight on the songwriting team of Mann and Weill, who gave the world “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” and “On Broadway” among others.  
            Moonlight’s team of John Vaughan (director/choreographer), Elan McMahan (leading the excellent orchestra), Raven Winter (costumes), Blake McCarty (projection design) and others combine to make this a surefire crowd-pleaser, especially for King’s legion of fans.
            Jukebox musicals can be junk. This one’s a joy.
            “Beautiful: The Carole King Musical” runs through Aug. 31 at Moonlight Amphitheatre in Vista.

"Cleopatra" is a joint production between Moxie Theatre and Loud Fridge Theatre Group.

            Like an Egyptian barge and a Roman barge passing in the night, Moxie Theatre is opening its 20th season while Loud Fridge Theatre Group closes its second with the world premiere of Joy Yvonne Jones’ solo show “Cleopatra.”
            It’s an adaptation of Shakespeare’s “Antony and Cleopatra” with a contemporary, proto-feminist feel, performed with passion and ferocity by Jones, a prominent figure on San Diego’s theater scene who is now based in Houston.
            So how do you pull off a one-person “Antony and Cleopatra” and do so in 90 minutes?
            First, you make the production all about the powerful and captivating Queen of Egypt. The story of Cleopatra’s rise to the Egyptian throne, her relationships with Julius Caesar and Mark Antony through the post-Battle of Actium sacrifice of her own life is told entirely through her perspective as dramatized by Jones. Caesar is never seen, Antony (portrayed by DeAndre Simmons) appears only in the accompanying film directed by Laura Skokan that serves as a timeline and atmospheric backdrop to Jones’ solo performance. (One actor, Kayla Adorno, is onstage with Jones as maidservant Charmian, but never speaks.)
            Second, you allow the film sequences and a few audience volunteers to provide much of the exposition which lets Jones inhabit Cleopatra on both cerebral and emotional levels. Whether honoring Shakespeare’s script or moving seductively to recorded R&B or a slice of Donna Summer’s “Love to Love You Baby,” Jones is the personification of a legendary woman who indulged her ambition and exuded her power in a variety of larger-than-life ways.
            Because “Cleopatra” is a one-person show composed of episodic scenes and broken up by film sequences, it does feel slow at times even as it moves resolutely through history. When Jones is offstage to change costumes (which she does frequently), the story grinds to a temporary halt. But temporary it is under the direction of Andrea Agosto, and the time in between can be used to imagine what the stunning Jones might be wearing next.
            Costume consultant Zoe Trautmann, choreographer Lesa M. Green and projection designer Michael Wogulis are important contributors to the look and ambient effect of this production.
            I’m pretty well versed in the history of this time and the personages key to it, and Jones’ “Cleopatra” is faithful to the facts even as it modernizes in language and attitude the Queen of the Nile. This script is a tribute to all that she was as a woman and to her devotion to Egypt.
            As I’ve written before, one-person plays are not my favorite theatrical diversions. Much depends on the ability of the performer to carry the content and compensate for the dearth of “action.” The film sequences are helpful here but what makes “Cleopatra” just compelling enough is Jones’ charisma and stage presence. This is most evident at the very end of the show when her Cleopatra is reflecting on the last few minutes of her life and the eternal reunion she aspires to with her Mark Antony. Jones is regal and tender.
            Spoiler alert: There’s no asp, either.
            “Cleopatra” runs through Sept. 7 at Moxie Theatre in Rolando.

Queen Margaret (Elizabeth A. Davis) leads her son (Cassia Thompson) and troops into battle in Part Two of "Henry 6: Riot and Reckoning."                                                                     Photo by Rich Soublet II

            First of all, congratulations to the Old Globe for accomplishing a feat few other theaters have accomplished: producing over its history all 38 of Shakespeare’s plays – tragedies, comedies, histories.
            In celebration, Globe Artistic Director Barry Edelstein has taken the “Henry VI” plays, parts 1, 2 and 3, and adapted them into a two-play spectacular titled “Henry 6.” The first half, subtitled “Flowers and France,” covers the lion’s share of The Bard’s “Henry VI, Part 1” and the early going in “Henry VI, Part 2.” The second play, “Riot and Reckoning,” picks up the saga from there and continues on through Shakespeare’s “Henry VI, Part 3.” Along the way Edelstein, who also directs, has done some trimming and added a few contemporary strokes.
            Everything is BIG in this two-part production, from the size of the cast (30 actors playing 60 roles) and their performances, to the versatile two-story set by Lawrence E. Moten III, one that accommodates entrances, exits, lots of raging sword play (credit fight director Jacob Grigolia-Rosenbaum), a “burning at the stake,” even a stylish choreographed (by Chelsey Arce) dance sequence with a gown-clad chanteuse singing “La Vie En Rose.”  Projections designed by Caite Hevner flash massive talking heads above the stage making grim pronouncements with “I am the great and powerful Oz” gravitas.
            The result is practically nonstop, spectacle-like entertainment that sustains itself over nearly six hours of theater when you combine the two productions. (They should be seen in chronological order, though either would stand up on its own.)
            Part One (“Flowers and France”) and Part Two (“Riot and Reckoning”) are as different as their names imply. The traditionally costumed “Flowers” is talkier, more expository, slower and a wee bit lengthier. “Riot” is louder, darker, far more violent and heavily action-driven. Of the two parts, I prefer the second, though to appreciate it in full it’s best to have seen Part One ahead of time for context.
            Taken in tandem, the narratives coalesce into one overriding and all-encompassing conflict: POWER. Who has it, who wants it, who will rule over not only England but France as well. Will it be Henry VI (Keshav Moodliar) of the House of Lancaster, the “rightful” (in quotes because it’s questioned) heir following the death of his father, Henry V? Will it be Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York (William DeMeritt, one of the strongest actors in the cast), who claims down to his marrow that he is entitled to the crown? And later, after the latter is slain, Edward, son of York (Ian Lassiter) props himself, quite literally, on the throne.
            Power is also sought and wielded by those in the sphere of these figureheads, with high ambition at practically any cost the desire of everyone from Henry’s wife Queen Margaret (Elizabeth A. Davis, passionate and stalwart) to the scheming Duke of Suffolk (Gregg Mozgala, who also plays in Part Two the murderous York son Richard, the future Richard III), to the bold and courageous Earl of Warwick (Sofia Jean Gomez, a Globe regular who’s always terrific).
            Key to the events of Part One is the French defiance of English rule, which Charles, Dauphin of France (Jake Millgard) entrusts to the indomitable and endowed-by-God soldier Joan la Pucelle (Joan of Arc), played with fierce resolve by Cassia Thompson. This will not end well for her, as you know.
            Suffolk has also made a deal to bring Margaret from France to Henry’s castle – to unite the countries, to be the king’s wife and mainly to be close to he himself.
            Meanwhile the hostilities between the houses of the red rose (Lancastrians) and the white (Yorkists) heat up to the boiling point.
            For Part Two, costume designer David Israel Reynoso has clothed the cast in more contemporary dress, compatible with the continuation of the tale that relies less on splendor and more on viscera.
            The one misstep in “Riot and Reckoning” is its opening uprising scene led by Jack Cade (Tally Sessions), a pawn of the plotting York’s. Edelstein has created a facsimile of Jan. 6, with Cade wearing face paint and horned fur hat, rousing the rioters to mayhem, even exhorting them to “Hang Mike Spence!” (a convenient employment of Lancastrian Sir Michael Spence’s name). To me, Jan. 6 was one of the worst days in American history and I couldn’t find this sequence funny or even admirably parodic. Sorry.
            From there on, Part Two is as explosive and carnage-filled as a “Game of Thrones” episode – stabbings, gorings, beheadings, the lot. It all leads up to Henry’s ultimate demise and the seizing of power by York’s sons Edward and Richard. Thus paving the way for “Richard III,” which you may remember the Globe last produced in 2012.
            The moment in Part Two that stands out and which for me is the most poignant and memorable in the entire two-play endeavor arrives when Henry, sitting on a mole hill and flanked by a father who has lost his son and a son who has lost his father, bemoans the bloodshed, the waste, the insanity of war. His pain is echoed by the surviving, mourning father on his left and the surviving, desolate son on his right.
            It’s a beautifully tragic break from the mayhem.
            Possibly demanded by the exigency of war, so many in this sweeping cast seem intent on projecting a combative growl or indulging in urgent emoting, resulting in, acoustically speaking, a lot of popped p’s, bopped b’s and hissing esses -- Moodliar as Henry chief among them.
            There are exceptions. Besides Davis, Gomez and DeMeritt, Sessions can be forgiven his outrageous Jack Cade because of a Lord Talbot portrayal in Part One that credibly runs the gamut of emotion.
            Nathan Hubbard’s percussion and Martin Martiarena’s thunderous guitar, both played live, are there to accent the high drama onstage. Part Two of “Henry 6” especially enjoys a nearly cinematic quality. Shakespeare likely would appreciate the bombast.
            Any way you look at it, “Henry 6” is an achievement, a prodigious undertaking that does credit to both the Old Globe and to The Bard himself.
            “Henry 6” with its two parts running in repertory continues through Sept. 15 in the Old Globe’s outdoor Lowell Davis Festival Theatre.

Ashley Alvarez (left) and Caro Guzman in "Derecho."                                            Photo by Rich Soublet II

            Early on in La Jolla Playhouse’s world-premiere production of Uruguayan-American playwright Noelle Vinas’ “Derecho” I realized that even if I agree wholeheartedly with the politics of a show, having them hit me over the head -- repeatedly -- gets old quickly.
            And “Derecho” is political. It has a lot to say – and say and say– over the course of 95 minutes about assimilation, gentrification, truth to and/or betrayal of heritage, white-privilege guilt, representation, identity and more. There’s also a long-held and disastrously spilled family secret that ultimately supersedes even the warring characters’ full-throated polemics.
            “Derecho” finds itself on the Playhouse’s Forum stage two years after it was seen by some patrons as part of the theater’s 2022 DNA New Works Series. That workshop experience and having the dependable Delicia Turner Sonnenberg as its director should have assured a smart and sensitive mainstage production.
            But too often the informed and potent commentary Vinas makes in her script about integrity, family and sociopolitical issues is talked out and, as the play lumbers along, shouted out.
            “Derecho’s” breaths in between come in the form of monologual reflections by one of the story’s Silva sisters – the older Eugenia (Ashley Alvarez) or younger Mercedes (Caro Guzman) – or during flashbacks featuring them both, or in dream-like breaks from the flammable get-together going on in an attractive home in an upscale section of Alexandria, Va. (I could’ve moved into these digs designed by Tanya Orellana).
            While these are welcome and often enlightening departures from the unfolding drama at the house, they feel less than organic, especially when the characters freeze or move in slo-mo.
            “Depecho” (it refers to a storm, which is heard here and there and which is also a pretty obvious metaphor) begins innocently enough. Uruguayan-American Eugenia, a progressive candidate for an unspecified office, invites Jose Portillo (Jorge Sanchez Diaz), an activist and old friend from her past, to the house with the intention of making him her campaign manager. He arrives with his wife Soledad (Carla Navarro) and a 5-month-old baby (who amazingly sleeps through all the arguing that comes later).
            Meanwhile, Eugenia’s husband Gabe (Luis Vega) has also invited a friend, Jeff Randolph (Eric Hagen) for the evening. Bad move, Gabe. Jeff and Mercedes have a history, and Mercedes, a musician on hiatus and for the time being living with her sister and brother-in-law, has already shown herself to be truculent before any of the guests have even arrived. (She and Eugenia snipe at each other for the first few minutes of the play.)
            Laser-focused on her campaign and on recruiting Jose, iron-willed Eugenia isn’t happy either about Jeff being at the party.
            Jeff is blond-locked and bearing Bud Light and altogether looking like Owen Wilson dressed up after an afternoon of surfing. But it’s his seemingly sincere intention to donate heavily to Eugenia’s campaign, in recompense for his family’s having pushed the longtime residents of the community out of their homes via gentrification, that lights the fuse.
            A heated discussion between the Portillos and Eugenia and Gabe about whether Latinx or Latine or some other appellation is appropriate or solicitous or offensive is the start of the verbal battle royal that the storm outside takes a back seat to. The “Jeff issue” will follow soon.
            “Derecho’s” side drama, Mercedes’ personal reveal to Jeff on the patio, comes about a third of the way into the story, finally raising the stakes beyond the philosophical. It also factors into the aforementioned family secret. (No spoilers.)
            As you may have surmised by this point, this is a very busy script with simmering discourse that never lets up. There is a crucial character examination when it comes to Eugenia, who must wrestle with ambition, integrity, sisterly love and conscience – all in one evening. Fittingly, Mercedes is the play’s other rounded character, grappling as she is with difficult life questions of her own.
            Among the others, only Gabe is given more depth, and it’s he who tries to be the voice of reason on a night when listening, really listening, is in short supply.
            Alvarez and in particular Guzman rise above the inadequacies in the script while Vega, he of the Playhouse’s superb “Seize the King” in 2018, acquits himself well as the well-meaning but flustered Gabe.
            Lighting designer Sherrice Mojgani and sound designer German Martinez provide the atmosphere of this production and the subtle touches that the verbal exchanges could have used more of.
            In a presidential election year like this one, works that mine the depths of political discourse and question integrity are timely. “Derecho” may also be a reminder that yelling usually doesn’t get us anywhere.
            “Derecho” runs through Aug. 18 at La Jolla Playhouse’s Mandell Weiss Forum.

Sherlock Holmes (Ruibo Qian, seated) presides in "Ms. Holmes & Ms. Watson -- Apt 2B." Photo by Jim Cox

            This is when it hit me -- what “Ms. Holmes & Ms. Watson – Apt. 2B” was going to be like: when consulting detective Sherlock (don’t call me Shirley) Holmes (Ruibo Qian) announced to roommate Joan (don’t call me Doctor) Watson (Natalie Woolams-Torres) that a dead man’s alias was “I.P. Freely.”
            Ah, those junior high days. So long ago.
            Actually, Kate Hamill’s mystery-comedy, onstage in the Old Globe’s Sheryl and Harvey White Theatre, is more sophisticated than that. Hamill’s serpentine script does demonstrate her keen knowledge of the Sherlock Holmes canon, not only in characters familiar to readers of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Professor Moriarty, Inspector Lestrade, adventuress Irene Adler) but in plot points culled from various Holmes stories, including “A Scandal in Bohemia” and the novel “A Study in Scarlet.”
            The mysteries here are gravy. The comedy, rife with physicality and double entendre, is the main course.
            In Hamill’s reimagination, Holmes and Watson are two women residing in London in 2021. (There are pandemic references early in the play that seem to disappear, never to return.) Joan Watson is the engine that propels the tale forward. In spite of being beset by recurring panic attacks, Watson is the audience’s emotional connection not only to the inscrutable Ms. Holmes but to all the hoo-ha going on around them both.
            Introduced to Holmes by her landlady Mrs. Hudson (Jenn Harris, in the most exaggerated of the multiple roles she plays), Watson encounters the abrasively brilliant, razor-sharp Holmes and at the outset wants no part of rooming with her.
            Of course she ends up doing so and becoming companion to Holmes’ investigations. It’s never believable that the two women are building a genuine friendship. The exasperated Watson seems ever on the verge of “I’m outta here.”
            Which is not to say that the two aren’t fun to watch together. Qian’s manic Holmes and Woolams-Torres’ vexed Watson are a splendid comedy pairing and under the direction of James Vasquez they make the art of comic timing, well, elementary.
            Trying to follow the dense, wayward script is anything but elementary. It’s true that Conan Doyle’s Holmes stories could be thick to the point of impenetrable, but in a mostly-comedy like “Mrs. Holmes & Mrs. Watson” that degree of complexity is unnecessary. I’m absolutely not one to tell the prodigious Kate Hamill how to write, but if I was having a go at a Holmes as a contemporary spoof, I’d concentrate 90 percent of my energy on the characters, and the whodunit be damned.
            So naturally the sight-gag moments in this show work best – such as Holmes and Watson sharing a bathtub with a corpse, or the two of them dressed up like nuns from Ireland spewing “sure and begorrah’s.”
            The high jinks do become shrill and enervating over the course of a show that’s two hours plus, with intermission. It’s like Jim Abrahams and the Zucker brothers flew in on their “Airplane!” and hijacked the Holmes/Watson story.
            The aforementioned Harris and Nehal Joshi carry the load as the supporting cast. While Harris’ portrayal of Mrs. Hudson and the widow of a murdered man are strictly Jerry Lewis Time, her sultry Irene Adler is a highlight of the production. The character doesn’t appear until the end of Act One. Her presence in Act Two gives the show some bam and glam. Joshi’s stammering Lestrade is there, as he is in Conan Doyle’s tales, mostly to bow to Holmes’ superior brain and skills. Joshi’s Texas-talkin’ Elliot Monk, first appearing wearing a Dubya mask over his face, deserved more stage time.
            Qian flashes all the anxious genius and high octane verbosity of a cracking good Sherlock Holmes, while Woolams-Torre’s Watson is the funniest character in the show. They’re somehow able to navigate all the chaos around them without being completely consumed by it.
            Sean Fanning’s inventive scenic design in the White space and Melanie Chen Cole’s sound effects work in lockstep with the pace and parody of this production. It’s an accomplishment that storytelling as busy as this is does not feel claustrophobic. There’s a palpable sense of play in the technical aspects of “Holmes & Watson.” Jolly good, that.
            Seems like every year on the San Diego theater scene some company somewhere is producing a Sherlock Holmes knockoff, but that’s no different from television or film really. Holmes is an iconic character no matter how you slice it. “Ms. Holmes & Mrs. Watson – Apt. 2B” is the latest but won’t be the last incarnation of the great detective we’ll see in these parts.
            “Ms. Holmes & Mrs. Watson – Apr. 2B” runs through Sept. 1 in the Old Globe’s Sheryl and Harvey White Theatre.