Also this issue: "4 Artists of Distinction" The African American Museum's "4 Artists of Distinction" is bright and deep. -Robin Rice Wlodzimierz Ksiazek: New Paintings -Susan Hagen Le Ballet National du Senegal -Deni Kasrel Beatlemania Now Project -Paul Burress Dealer's Choice -Shivani Mahendroo Donna Uchizono Co. -Deni Kasrel In the Shape of a Spider -Shivani Mahendroo Georgian State Dance Company -Janet Anderson

November 14-20, 2002

theater

The Baltimore Waltz

by Toby Zinman

What a difference a decade makes. In 1992, when Paula Vogel won the Obie for The Baltimore Waltz, this AIDS play was heart-wrenching and eye-opening. Although the subject matter is no longer shocking, the play is still moving and funny and fascinating. It is a highly theatrical play, and Vagabond’s production does not disappoint.

Dedicating the play to her beloved brother Carl, who died of AIDS, Vogel creates characters called Carl (Leonard Kelly) and Anna (Aileen McCulloch) and reverses roles: Anna is diagnosed with ATD -- Acquired Toiled Disease -- affecting primarily elementary school teachers who "sat." There are lessons in grief management, there are lessons in French. There are daring jokes and sappy moments. The play is uneven, as are the performances -- Anna is both the weakest writing in the script and the least nuanced acting in the production -- but all told, it's a very satisfying evening in the theater.

The brother and sister tour Europe, fulfilling a dream, finding art and history and quick sex along the way as they look for a legendary quack doctor in Vienna and an old college chum of Carl's named Harry Lime (yes, that Harry Lime: the Third Man, as he is listed in the program). This Third Man (the extraordinary Charlie DelMarcelle) is the third man in the cast as well, since he plays all the other roles: the American doctor, the Viennese doctor, the bellboy, the waiter, the train conductor, a spectacular Dutch Boy in wooden shoes and blonde wig, an Austrian landlady that nearly made me fall out of my chair laughing -- each time shifting accents and mannerisms.

The play requires merely a stage and the virtuosity of the actors (the old reliable "two boards and a passion"); the set (Joe Koroly) is little more than the clever use of cloth in sheets and draperies, two office chairs, two wooden coffee tables and a couple of pillows. The scene shifts require precision choreography, and the music/sound design treads the fine line between the sentimental and the parodic. The production, directed by Henry Gleitman and Ty Furman, is full of smart choices. This is theater at its most committed: nothing fancy except the talent.