By Lynn Venhaus

In the warm glow of the cozy March parlor, a singular author wins us over with her exuberant family portrait while a modern playwright interprets the timeless work “Little Women” by sharing these relatable lives less ordinary.

Together, this exceptional ensemble of women depicts how love makes the poorest soul thrive, how dreams fuel ambitions, how comforting sisterhood is, and that gumption matters at any age and era.

Louisa May Alcott coaxed generations of women to dream. No doubt playwright Lauren Gunderson was one of them. How their worlds intertwine has created a fascinating dynamic that feels both modern and sentimental, lively and lovely.

Alcott’s most famous work, published in two volumes in 1868 and 1869, was eventually combined in 1880, and ever since, “Little Women” has never been out of print.

Addison Foote, Andrea San Miguel, Kristen Lindvedt, Marcia Pizzo and Amira Danan as the March women. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

Gunderson, one of the world’s most produced playwrights, shares the same gift for honest writing that resonates. Through her fresh framing and frequent use of contemporary dialogue, the twin story unfolds, with dual roles of Lou and Jo played by the same actress. She also incorporated direct narration from Alcott’s writing, which adds authenticity.

In Civil War era Massachusetts, the fictional March family tends to the business of living while their father is away fighting for the Union Army. They endure traditional 19th century society struggles, especially financial – and love stories they refreshingly shape in their own way.

In 2024, director Delaney Piggins saw Gunderson’s adaptation during its rolling world premiere at the Northlight Theatre in Chicago, participating with three other theater companies. As associate artistic director, she lobbied for its inclusion in The Rep’s 60th season and is now making her triumphant directorial debut.

Her astute understanding of the characters and clever, inventive staging propels this charmer. Through her clear vision, she has gathered top-tier women creatives as designers — scenic designer Ann Beyersdorfer, costume designer Kotryna Hilko, lighting designer Paige Seber, and sound designer Amanda Werre. Choreographer Sam Gaitsch, intimacy director Frankie Ferrari, and dialect coach Lauren Roth all made noteworthy contributions, as did Paul Steger as fight director and Will Vicari as wig designer.

Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

Piggins has assembled a strong quartet of lovable multi-faceted March sisters – Amira Danan as dutiful and devoted Meg, the oldest; Andrea San Miguel as fiercely independent Josephine “Jo”; Kristen Lindvedt as kind and gentle Elizabeth “Beth”; and Addison Foote as melodramatic and spoiled Amy, the youngest.

For those of us who grew up with a strong mother, Marmee rings true – and so does the passionate affection of the sisters and the memories they evoke.

Marcia Pizzo is a calm moral compass as the matriarch, guiding her girls about what’s important — especially self-respect and inner character. Warm and wise, she tells them she’d rather see them happy and poor instead of marrying only for money or social status.

She notices that Meg and Amy are more concerned with social status and luxury and tries to lower those expectations. She confides in Jo that she’s learned to control her temper instead of it controlling her.  

As the young women go after what they want, the big female energy on stage and in the audience was palpable – and glorious. The production’s rebel spirit reflected Jo’s empowering and enduring aspirations.

Andrea San Miguel and Jack Lancaster as Jo and Laurie. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

Andrea San Miguel is a major force as feisty Jo, leaning into her tomboy side, sometimes with an over-emphasis on humor. She strongly interprets a confident Jo and stubborn Louisa. San Miguel, who won the St. Louis Theater Circle for Best Performance in a Comedy, Female or Non-Binary Role, for her masterful madcap mischief in “The Cottage” last year, displays the same ease with the robust performers here.

Amira Danan is a strong loyal and nurturing Meg, who ultimately marries for love over money. Kristen Lindvedt excellently embodies the shy peacemaker Beth, who provides such joy playing music for her family. Lindvedt, also the music supervisor, plays the stage piano.

Addison Foote must grow the most as her character Amy, at first selfish and dramatic, but eventually becomes a worldly sophisticate who marries Laurie (Jack Lancaster), aka Theodore “Teddy” Laurence, their playful childhood pal now sensible adult.

The energetic Lancaster is ideally suited as Laurie, starting off as a lonely, sheltered rich boy next door who becomes a regular fun-loving fixture in the March sisters’ lives. As a confidante and best friends with Jo, he and San Miguel have an effortless chemistry together.

Addison Foote as Amy in “Little Women.” Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

They are such kindred spirits that when Laurie mistakes platonic compatibility for romantic feelings, Jo firmly rejects him, causing a rift. He flees to Europe, where he runs into Amy, who is studying art and painting while traveling with wealthy but cantankerous Aunt March (Marcia Pizzo in a dual role).

Eager for new horizons to fuel her literary ambitions, Jo travels to New York City, where she works as a governess and sells stories to publications. At her boarding house, she meets the kind and highly educated Professor Bhaer, who shares her passion for literature. He’s mature, respectful and hard-working. The spark is there; he and Jo will eventually share a wonderful life together, letting love in (“Little Men,” “Jo’s Boys”).

Adam Poss capably plays both Meg and Jo’s future good-guy husbands – earnest John Brooke and honorable Friedrich Bhaer. He’s first seen as Laurie’s tutor Mr. Brooke, who falls in love with Meg, then he enters late in the second act as the older German professor. He seamlessly transitions to each part and has a comfortable, steady presence on stage. He also briefly appears as the March patriarch.

Piggins’ fluid direction easily moves characters through the home, which scenic designer Ann Beyersdorfer has filled with books, mementoes, functional furniture and a small piano for Beth. The modest, lived-in New England aesthetic includes an outdoor area – for playing on the ice, dancing, and conversations. A second-floor window indicates the Laurence home. Lighting designer Paige Seber has shifted moods and seasons with her lighting choices that complement the set.

“Little Women.” Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

The costumes that Kotryna Hilko designed not only fit the period and economic status of the characters, but don’t bog down the performers in their active scenes, flowing well in movement, even with shawls and coats. With a few changes in jackets, Poss becomes three different characters.

To be in a theater alive with an effusive audience who believes in the deep value of female independence and creativity was meaningful Friday, a feeling I have carried – well, re-ignited, since that night. Those female voices, once found, carry.

Infused with Gunderson’s vitality and showcasing appealing performers, the Rep’s “Little Women” demonstrated that Louisa May Alcott’s populist work is timeless, sisterhood is a necessary emotional component in our lives, and women seizing their own journey with gusto is reason enough to stand up and cheer loudly.

The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis presents “Little Women” from Sept. 9 to Sept. 27 on the mainstage Browning Theatre in the Loretto-Hilton Center on the Webster University campus. For more information on tickets, call the box office at 314-968-3925 or visit www.repstl.org. For ticket deals, be sure to check out: www.repstl.org/ways-to-save

Adam Poss and Amira Danan as John and Meg. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

By Lynn Venhaus

Taut and tense, “JOB” is an unsettling psychological thriller that will spark a broad spectrum of conversations. While the play’s hot-button issues can be debated infinitely, with few clearcut agreements emerging – one thing is constant: outstanding, riveting acting.

The brilliant performances by John Contini and Kristen Lindvedt are among the best of this or any year.

With his customary gravitas, Contini plays Loyd, a crisis therapist, who is assigned to treat Jane, a tech worker who has had a public breakdown, which was shared by a coworker in a video that went viral. She wants her job back, but the company will only reinstate her if she is approved to do so by a licensed therapist.

Lindvedt, who asserted herself as a memorable Cinderella in New Jewish Theatre’s “Into the Woods” in 2023 and as the ingenue in “All My Sons” in 2024, both at New Jewish Theatre, is a revelation as self-obsessed Jane. She is defiant, defensive, scared, terrifying, arrogant, aggressive and annoying, showing a wide range of emotions.

Kristen Lindvedt as Jane. Jon Gitchoff photo.

First-time playwright Max Wolf Friedlich asks: What is the human cost of living online?

Meant to be ambiguous, this 90-minute two-hander takes place in January 2020, during an on-edge therapy session. It ran on Broadway in 2024 following successful off-Broadway engagements.

Clearly agitated, Jane has shown up in a San Francisco office, and this evaluation is going to be anything but routine. Uncomfortable twists and turns are ahead, and this complex character study is very much a generational face-off, between a Baby Boomer and a Millennial.

Their identities and worldview clash – she’s part of the digital-savvy tech culture and he grew up idealistic with a hippie aesthetic. But there is so much more to explore about the psychological toll of the internet, mental health, and job burnout – perhaps too much to cover in a mere 90 minutes.

Lindvedt, John Contini as Loyd. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

Scenic designer C. Otis Sweezey’s well-pointed set is where the claustrophobic confrontation takes place as the power play shifts, momentum and moods swing, and anxieties rise.

The conversation is absorbing as the pair settle into an uneasy rhythm – intelligently discussing life and technology, but with an apparent nervousness — a threat of violence is present.

Jane attempts to explain her meltdown as reaction to her intense job moderating extreme online and often criminal content. Yet, her job gives her life meaning, and she takes it very seriously, almost obsessively. (What happens when your job may not be healthy for you?)

How we connect online, through computers, smartphones and social media, raises questions on guilt and innocence, truth and lies, responsibility and apathy.

How does our media consumption affect our world view, and do we feel a responsibility to fight the injustices that we see and hear about daily? Should we help people who need it the most? How do we know what’s real?

Contini and Lindvedt. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

We expect this somber drama to be divisive, but what is most surprising is how emotionally devastating it can be. With a sense of urgency, director Annamaria Pileggi has discovered relatable nuggets in a dark landscape.

Friedlich was inspired by real-life experiences, after meeting a professional content moderator whose job required reviewing disturbing online content. What happens when people assume the internet is anonymous? What happens to people adversely affected by cyberspace?

Bleak and disturbing, the play dredges up the underbelly of content – the filth that seeps onto screens, and there aren’t any easy answers, especially here. Are we seeing visions that are only in Jane or Loyd’s minds? What are these bizarre images that are conjured between flashes of light?

The artistic ambition is carried out through exceptional lighting design by Michael Sullivan and sound design by Kareem Deanes, which amplifies the city’s street sounds – and then other audio, but questions arise. Is it a sonic landscape of online engagement?

Lindvedt as Jane and Contini as Loyd in “JOB.” Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

Early on, horrifically, we hear the viral video, not seen. Jane’s screams aren’t something you’ll forget anytime soon. Imagine grappling with shocking, violent, depraved images and how shattering it could be to your psyche.

We may not get easy answers we’re looking for, because after all, the lines between perception and reality are blurred. Ultimately, Friedlich’s theatrics aren’t satisfying because actions are neither clear nor conclusive.

He has magnified society’s issues without addressing where do we go from here. Whether someone is talked down from the ledge will always be a sticking point. And both are unreliable narrators.

The big reveal seems implausible, especially if you’ve been paying close attention to the details. What price are we willing to pay to live online?

Kristen Lindvedt, John Contini in ‘JOB.’ Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

Some modern playwrights who’ve pulled the rug out from under us include David Harrower in “Blackbird,” which Pileggi shrewdly directed for St. Louis Actors’ Studio. The audience sat in stunned silence then — and now.

I thought of that unsettling play during this one, feeling jittery and expecting the other shoe to drop, and my similar queasy reaction to “Small Engine Repair” by John Pollano, which has shocking twists as well. (However, no one has attempted to stage that one regionally).

Nevertheless, bravery abounds with this pair, who elevate each other, and make this a tour-de-force not to be missed.

New Jewish Theatre presents “Job” Thursdays at 7 p.m., Saturdays at 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. and Sundays at 2 p.m. from Aug. 6 through Aug. 23. Performances take place at the SFC Performing Arts Center, 2 Millstone Campus Drive. For more information: https://jccstl.com/arts-ideas/new-jewish-theatre/current-productions/

JOB. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.