The women’s liberation movement of the 1960s comes to life in “SHOUT!” THE SHOW is replete with humorous vignettes though sometimes they turn a tad risque and occasionally a little melancholy.
It’s a messy, happy, turbulent time aptly portrayed by five area women whose strong voices and superb acting transport the audience to England, home of the Beatles and Petulia Clark.
The play’s title refers to a magazine of the day and its advice columnist, Gwendolyn Holmes. The women heed Ms. Holmes’ guidance — detailed in an off-stage voice — but less dutifully as the turbulent ’60s unfold.
Sabra Aguirre, an ICT veteran with a powerful voice, is the lone American in the quintet. Others are Aguirre’s mother, Pam Tressler, who also has been on the ICT stage, and three newcomers, Sara Joy Standridge, Eureka, and Iolans Elyssa Jackson and Jessica Quinhones.
A delightful part of the musical-comedy is how well the British characters have mastered their accent. “Bloody” and “bloke” are familiar UK slang terms, but they go much further in assimilating the inflections.
Anyone of age in the 1960s will fondly recall songs that are the buoying structure of the show, including “To Sir With Love,” “Downtown,” “Georgy Girl,” “Son of a Preacher Man” and, in a rendition that Jackson belts out after the five get a little high on devil weed (marijuana), “Goldfinger.”
The dessert theater opens Friday night at the ICT Warehouse Theatre, 203 S. Jefferson Ave. Another performance is Saturday night, followed by evening presentations on Feb. 28 and March 1 and the afternoon of March 2. Evening shows start at 7:30, with dessert served at 7 o’clock. March 2 times are 1:30 and 2 p.m. Tickets, $15 for adults and $10 for students, may be purchased at Sophisticated Rose, 19 S. Jefferson Ave.
Quinhones has a background in theater and it shows.
Early on she remarks the dress she’s wearing contains asbestos.
“I can’t think of anything wrong with it,” she says, with the sentence interrupted by coughs alluding to the ill effects of the insulating material.
“It makes me tingle,” she says with a giggle, and a wiggle.
Aguirre’s character has a crush on Paul McCartney and in an appearance by the Beatle she comes away with his comb.
“What’s this,” she asks while looking closely at the comb.
“It’s dandruff. I’ve got Paul McCartney’s dandruff,” she exclaims.
In a song about breaking up, Jackson seizes on one of her exaggerated performances to point out, “I don’t care what they say. Breaking up isn’t hard to do. I do it all the time.”
In another scene all five pretend to reach marijuana-induced levels of gratification that recalls as much about the 1960s as do their songs and costumes.
Aguirre has a soliloquy that hammers home that domestic violence was very much alive then as now.
In a quiet voice she talks about being seven months married, pregnant and having suffered abuse at the hands of her husband.
“What do I do now,” she asks.
Each set of scenes is prompted by an annual issue of “Shout.”
When the 1970 issue is pulled from a rack, the women “say good-bye to the ’60s and hello to the ’70s,” allowing that “those were the days.”
During the 90-minute run the women find themselves, become pragmatic in attitude and don’t apologize for any self-serving moments.
Richard Spencer is director.
A ’60s REVIVAL-Shout celebrates women’s liberation
