BEST PLACE FOR JEWS TO GET TRASHED ON CHRISTMAS EVE

Mazelpalooza

If you're a WASP, you have a pretty good idea about where you'll be on the night before Christmas, but you've probably never given much thought to what your non-Christian pals will be doing. Don't bothuh, bubalah — they're doing fine. A coalition of Jewish singles organizations led by Tribe sponsors this annual hoedown, which features off-the-hook drinking, dancing, and elbow-rubbing with fellow "Hebes who want to hang." (Hey, they said it, not us.)

Sure sounds better than unwrapping that umpteenth pair of tube socks from Aunt Catherine and Uncle Jack. Oy, can the goyim come, too?

David Chuchla, the enigmatic dude behind this annual display, is one of those silent do-gooders who'd rather let their munificence do the talking. (In other words, he doesn't return phone calls.) We can't fathom why he spends so much time — and so much of his own moolah — erecting this gargantuan ode to joy, which is located in a private residence and open to the public for three weeks each December.

The spirit-choked abode features eight rooms dolled up with individual themes, an ice cave packed with animatronic figures, 40-odd decked-out trees, and 50,000 lights.

So what's in it for him? There's no commercialization, no product tie-ins. Could it be that we Scrooges have got it wrong? Could there really be a Santa Claus? Nah. But Chuchla's house looks cool at Christmastime.

Vampires are soooooo cool. Always have been, always will be. But they've been getting even more lovin' of late. In Underworld, sexy Kate Beckinsale had us drinking tomato juice by the gallon to quench our blood lust. Wesley Snipes made us wish we were undead ninjas in Blade. Best-selling Valley author Stephenie Meyer had us reaching for the Scotties with Twilight and New Moon, her rain-drenched novels about the star-crossed love affair between a Rico Suave vamp and a sweet-as-syrup waif.

Lisa Starry's Scorpius troupe adds to the bloody-good fun with its annual "Nutcracker of Halloween." The toothy tale relates the story of a chaste young woman who falls in with a bad crowd, stumbling into a secret ceremony akin to the opera-house feeding frenzy in Interview With the Vampire. Starry's vision is pretty creepy, but the show's done with a light touch that even vampophobes will appreciate.

Tempe Center for the Arts
Phoenix has so many theater companies, it's hard to know where to start. So take our advice, and start at birth (well, maybe around 4 or 5) with Childsplay. The Valley's professional children's company has been around for 30 years, serving up dozens of kid-friendly plays and musicals that never pander to their audiences. Which is why parents and children alike love the likes of Goodnight Moon, Seussical and this season's upcoming Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Not to mention the company's super-talented troupe of regulars that includes Debra K. Stevens, Jon Gentry, and the incomparable Katie McFadzen. The heck with amusement parks and water slides — take the kids to a Childsplay show, where you'll have at least as much fun as your little charges.
True, Phoenix is home to only a handful of professional theater companies. Thus, Actors Theatre is on a short list of troupes with access to bigger budgets, better venues, and better performers. No matter, because what truly sets this company apart, time and again, is its choice of material.

For more than two decades, AT has wowed us with material that other companies pass up, as anyone who saw their awe-inspiring production of The Pillowman late last season can attest. This season, AT is bringing us the equally provocative The Lieutenant of Inishmore by Martin McDonagh, as well as Heather Raffo's 9 Parts of Desire and the world premire of Speak Spanish to Me, a commissioned piece by Bernardo Solano about a young love affair at Arizona State University.

Who else but Actors Theatre would bring us such a diverse, risky season? No one.

Okay, so their Night of the Iguana sucked like mad. Yet Nearly Naked continues to offer not only some of the highest-quality productions in town, but some of the most daring, least-often-produced material Phoenix has ever seen, as well. What's more, Damon Dering and the other stalwarts at Nearly Naked, which is now a resident company at Phoenix Theatre, continue to surprise theatergoers with plays that seem out of this often-impish troupe's element. The Who's Tommy seemed mighty tame for these guys; after all, it had played Gammage in its squeaky-clean road company version a few years before. But Nearly Naked showed us a groovy, grunged-up production that would have made Pete Townshend and his pub-crawling pals proud. Even their awful Night of the Iguana was sort of subversive, reminding us what "alternative theater" used to look like 40 years ago. We like what it looks like today, especially when we see it at Nearly Naked.
It's been a long time since it was considered clever to spoof obscure science-fiction films in wacky stage musicals. But tiny Artists Theatre Project (their friends call them @Pro) managed last season to prove that, sometimes, everything old can be new again. The company's Scream Queens: The Musical worked well in spite of the fact that an all-girl camp tuner about the joys of Z-grade horror flicks is such a tired idea that right now, someone is probably squirreled away somewhere writing a spoof of such spoofs. Scream Queens hollered in earnest about how campy camp can be, and did so with such gusto and charm that its worn-out premise seemed somehow shiny and new. Director Douglas Loynd kept the many components of this complicated campathon moving at a fast clip by integrating set changes into each number, and letting the all-gal cast improvise over the inevitable technical glitches that come with film clips and audience participation. All these months later, we're still screaming for Scream Queens.
When you step inside the lunchtime theater space at the Herberger in downtown Phoenix, you never know what you're getting (unless you've pre-ordered lunch; then you can be sure of your turkey sandwich). On a hot August afternoon, we had a particularly memorable experience, watching James E. Garcia's new work, In a Glass House, about the life of former Arizona Governor Raul Castro.

As Garcia would want us to quickly point out, the play was only being workshopped. A full production will premire sometime soon, he promises. And we can't wait. Castro was Arizona's first (and only, to this day) Hispanic governor, and his tenure (although brief, from 1975-77) was fascinating, topped only by the stories of his youth and his time as ambassador to El Salvador, Colombia and Argentina.

We don't want to ruin the story, if you don't know it already. We just want to say that you must see the play when Garcia premires it. We hope Marcos Najera (full disclosure: he now writes for us at New Times) is in the cast. He did a terrific job in the workshop. And we hope you're there for a performance where the governor happens to be in attendance. The day we saw In a Glass House, we had a good view of Governor Castro, throughout. The old guy's now in his 90s but is looking relatively spry. He took the stage afterward for a Q&A and repeated the quote that opens the play: "I don't want to be loved. I want to be respected." He got that, certainly, from Garcia. "Tears came to my eyes," Castro said, "reminiscing about my life."

Ours, too.

The Palms Theatre
We never thought we'd ever see anyone, anywhere, do the Siamese ballet "The Small House of Uncle Thomas" and make us like it, until we blundered into a superb production of The King and I at this East Valley dinner theater. Broadway Palm is part of a chain of similar venues, and its stock in trade is the usual warhorses (My Fair Lady) and super-popular jukebox musicals (Beehive), but we're beginning to rethink our snooty attitude about dinner theater after seeing what these guys did with this Rodgers and Hammerstein classic — not to mention what Broadway Palm's chefs do with a pork loin! We found their Carved Roasted Garlic Chipotle Pork Loin as tasty as any we've had at better restaurants, and their Crab-Stuffed Pollack Filet was pretty close to perfect, too. Forgive us for going back for seconds at the rather opulent dessert bar, but we noticed the colossal ice cream bar only after we'd helped ourselves to samplings from the super-sweet array of cakes and pies. We left stuffed and happy and planning to return as soon as possible.
Christopher Haines' portrayal of a monstrous, self-absorbed serial killer was so intense and so terrifying that one local director sent regrets that he, unnerved by Haines' performance, fled at intermission. Bryony Lavery's award-winning play about a little girl's death at the hands of a depraved pervert isn't an easy one to sit through, to be sure — a fact that was made all the more apparent in iTheatre Collaborative's production directed by Mike Traylor earlier this year. Haines' interpretation of the cold-blooded killer was so chillingly sinister — and his working-class British accent so dead-on — that it trumped several excellent performances at nearby professional theaters. Bravo.

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