
Directors Mark A. Rhea and Susan Marie Rhea present a pared-down, amped-up evening of theater that has a “Dead Poets Society” feel to it — their hypercaffeinated ensemble ably assaults Sater’s precocious lyrics (consider the uber-poetic, rallying cry to bask in “The Song of Purple Summer”) with lots of hopping and bopping and writhing in place. Among a uniformly solid cast wholly affected by the elongated vowels familiar in modern vernacular, Paul Scanlan’s twitchy portrayal of the tortured Moritz Stiefel stands out next to Nora Palka’s gentle, mature Ilse.



