Now Playing

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged). These are the complete works, but not exactly as Shakespeare wrote them. The cast members — Geoffrey Kent, Matthew Mueller and Stephen Weitz — spend about ten minutes on Romeo and Juliet, complete with lots of mock fighting and a hilarious rendition of Juliet's puzzlement as she attempts to commit suicide with a retractable knife; dispense with the history plays in a quick football game; present a five-minute Macbeth in astounding Scottish accents; make Titus Andronicus into a cooking show; sum up the comedies by twisting all their plots into one insane narrative; and have the audience acting out Ophelia's id, ego and superego during the nunnery scene in Hamlet. The actors add lots of improvised bits to the script; you also get a toy dinosaur that roars, a dummy that stands in for various fight opponents and Ophelia's body, vomit jokes, drag jokes, codpiece jokes, breast jokes, men-acting-effeminate jokes, jokes about guys getting kicked in the nuts and jokes about Mueller throwing tantrums. Yes, this is pretty crude stuff, but the show works. Susan Crabtree has created a big bright set with Shakespeare looming against the back wall, all twinkly and jovial like the Ghost of Christmas Past, while his characters emerge through the portal of his huge bent legs. All three actors are terrific: They have presence, strong voices, a good sense of humor and the ability to engage directly with the audience. I can't remember when I last laughed so hard and so long. Presented by the Boulder Ensemble Theatre Company through May 16. Dairy Center for the Arts, 2590 Walnut Street, 303-444-SEAT, www.thedairy.org. Reviewed May 8.

Crimes of the Heart. Written in 1978, when the feminist movement had woken us up to the extraordinary fact that women could, and frequently do, like each other, Crimes of the Heart is about sisterhood. The three women at the play's center are not only having — as one of them comments — a very bad day, they've had a pretty hard time of it altogether. Their father vanished when they were young; their mother gained national notoriety for hanging the old family cat and then herself.  We're familiar with this genre — wacky, soft-focus Southern Gothic — but there's an unexpected deadpan humor to Beth Henley's script that keeps you absorbed, laughing and empathetic and leavens sentimentality. Terry Dodd is that rare director who really likes working with strong, interesting women, and for this production, he's scored a triple. Laura Norman is the center of the action as Lenny, the good sister; she's flanked by Megan VanDeHey and Emily Paton Davis. As different as these three women are, you have no trouble believing that they grew up in the same household; that for each of them, the smell of her sisters' skin and hair is as familiar as the smell of her own; that they understand each other's tics and torments so well that their mockery can be as merciless as their mutual love is unbreakable. Presented by Denver Victorian Playhouse through May 17, 4201 Hooker Street, 303-433-4343, www.denvervic.com. Reviewed May 1.

Dinah Was. The story opens with Dinah Washington, at the height of her fame, arriving at the Sahara in Las Vegas for a show. Though the manager expects her to fill the house, he refuses to give her a room at the hotel, insisting that she stay in the trailer he's prepared for her in the back. Furious, Dinah strips off her fur coat to reveal that she's wearing only a slip underneath, plunks herself down on her suitcases in the middle of the lobby, fishes out a hip flask and proceeds to get drunk, ignoring all arguments, threats and entreaties. Then the action flashes back to show her life, and we watch the star become increasingly drug- and booze-addled, sympathizing with her frustration at being told to stick with rhythm and blues and to tone down her act for television, recoiling from her self-pity and self-destructiveness. There are moving scenes and some wonderful lines — "I can sound whiter than Pat Boone's behind," Dinah says at one point — but the script rambles and repeats, and the characters are stereotypical. And while most of the acting is solid, director Jeffrey Nickelson has allowed a couple of performers to hugely overplay their roles. None of this matters, though, because jazz singer René Marie, who plays Dinah, is a phenomenon, a woman with a strong, humorous presence and a glorious voice. When she sings, you forget you're watching a play and simply lose yourself in the emotion and energy of the moment. Presented by Shadow Theatre Company through May 24, 1468 Dayton Street, Aurora, 720-857-8002, 866-388-4TIX, www.shadowtheatre.com. Reviewed May 1.