October 10, 2024
Stepping into the world of Alice and the Mad Tea Party, Area Stage's latest production, is just as disorienting at the top as Alice's adventures in Wonderland must have felt. Audiences are escorted into a space that looks more like an expansive escape room than a stage, littered with party cups and an instrumental version of Earth, Wind & Fire's "September" playing while clearly costumed actors coax them into taking a seat — or a stand — anywhere.
Disorientation is only momentary, though, as soon enough, Greta Hicks' Alice takes center stage by standing on a table to deliver the tale of how she got to this precise moment. From there, Giancarlo Rodaz's show becomes a relatively straight adaptation of Lewis Carroll's novel Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, albeit one that has taken a few liberties with structure and presentation. It still features Alice falling down a rabbit hole, meeting all kinds of characters, and facing a number of predicaments, but rather than stick to the script in following Alice through her own adventures, the play chooses to bring the audience into itself, sometimes for the explicit purpose of moving things along and other times purely for the glee of it.
This kind of interactivity is part of what Area Stage bills as "a thrillingly interactive and rowdy night of theater," resulting in two modes. There's a sincere delight that comes with being asked to dance and race alongside these characters or even being handed a chalkboard when asked to participate in a jury for the Queen of Hearts. The kind of improvisation that requires audience participation also results in a few dead moments where everyone awkwardly tries to navigate that very engagement. Those beats are few and far between and will more than likely change depending on the audience. Some may choose to sit in a corner and try to avoid engagement, while others embrace it, but they still reveal the limitations of interactivity.
Greta Hicks as Alice and Frank Montoto as the March Hare in Alice and the Mad Tea Party
Photo by Giancarlo Rodaz
Alice and the Mad Tea Party's interactivity does, however, bring new life to an oft-told tale in little ways, whether that's being dressed up like the suite of cards at a croquet tournament or being lectured by the Mock Turtle and asked to be his assistant. Beyond that incorporation of the audience, witnessing the ways Rodaz chooses to present some of the story's more fantastical elements is nothing short of delightful. Take Alice's size changes upon eating or drinking. Her shrinking is as simple as having one actress be swapped out with a child actor, appearing from just under a table as though transformation has truly happened. When she becomes a giant, gorgeously made puppet hands come through doors and corridors for all to witness. This kind of moment, as well as one space transforming into another, enlivens the text and makes all the tiny technical issues — like a soundscape that sometimes overwhelms spoken dialogue — easy to ignore.
Other translations of the text to life are less inspired but no less amusing, like the costuming for the Queen of Hearts, exquisitely played by Katie Duerr, being something of a lampoon of Eddie Redmayne's idiotic Cabaret fits or the Caterpillar (also played by Duerr) simply being stripped down and depicted as a snotty French critic at a café. To their credit, the ensemble embodies each and every one of these characters with the same passion, with even those with less showy roles, like Maggie McNeil as the Dormouse and providing the vocals for a Cheshire Cat that exists exclusively on a television screen, getting to shine. John Mazuelos (as the Mad Hatter and Mock Turtle), Frank Montoto (as the March Hare and Dodo), and Tico Chiriboga (as the White Rabbit), alongside Duerr and McNeil, are all comfortable bouncing between roles and diving straight into character, but the show's constant comes in Alice.
Maggie McNeil as the Dormouse in Alice and the Mad Tea Party
Photo by Giancarlo Rodaz
To that point, there's something endlessly captivating about Greta Hicks' Alice, who doesn't lean into naivety and instead fixates on her endless curiosity and skepticism in the face of the inane. There's as much of a wandering soul as there is a determined young woman in there, and the few beats where Hicks is swapped out with Antoinette Jane Mess (who plays her as both a "young" self and a "small" self in a charmingly minor role) showcase how well the two fit together as one.
At a breezy 75 minutes, Giancarlo Rodaz's Alice and the Mad Tea Party is a short but sweet time at the theater. Its deceptively simple staging gives way to all the imagination and playfulness it requires and deserves. Those who are willing to give into its general ridiculousness — which, considering it's an Alice's Adventures in Wonderland adaptation, you should be — will find exactly the kind of scrappy, charming play they expect.
Alice and the Mad Tea Party. Through Sunday, October 20, at Area Stage, 5701 Sunset Dr., Ste. 286, Miami; 305-666-2078; areastage.com. Tickets cost $65. Performances occur at 6 and 8 p.m. Thursday through Sunday.
