'A Single Shard' at People's Light & Theatre Company

But it boasts David F. Weiner’s set of ancient forest-covered mountains, delicately lit by Porsche McGovern, as well as Moria Sine Clinton’s exquisite period costumes and Daniel Perelstein’s moving music. The storytelling style is enhanced by pop-up books opened by narrating actors, bursting with more colorful detail of this magical world, and unfortunately, until now, I'd never seen pop-up books in stories for adults.

The production brings the words of Robert Schenkkan’s adaptation to life: “So much beauty all around us,” says Crane Man (Graham Smith), a wise old injured bird living under a bridge, “but many can’t see it because they don’t know how to look.” Director Seema Sueko’s production shows us how, and though all the characters are adults, that vision comes through the eyes of a child.

Our True Family

A multiethnic cast, most playing several roles, infuses this gently spiritual tale with life. Brian Lee Huynh plays Tree-Ear, an orphan named by Crane Man for the stubborn mushrooms that grow on logs. Their honorable poverty changes when Tree-Ear finds work with Master Potter Min (Thom Sesma), a gruff artisan managed with aplomb by his patient wife (Jeanne Sakata).

Tree-Ear is bullied by other apprentices (Aaron Bell, Taysha Canales), scoffed at by Min’s rival, Master Potter Kang (Greg Watanabe), and menaced by mythical Fox (JungWoong Kim). Yet he perseveres, even when sent on a long journey to deliver samples of his master’s work to the emperor’s emissary (Kevin R. Free). Every character, no matter how small, is three-dimensionally human.

The consequences of the many challenges Tree-Ear faces may be predictable, but they’re suspensefully acted and staged. As Crane Man says, “In all the problems you meet, people will be the greatest danger, but it is also people you must turn to in your greatest need.”

One of A Single Shard's many warm and satisfying lessons is that sometimes our true family is not the one we’re born into, but the one we make.

When the 90-minute adventure concludes, this production provides an extra reward with a glorious light and sound display.

The Perils of Live Performance

A funny thing happened at last Sunday’s matinee: an actor wasn't yet at the theater. We first heard about this right at curtain time, a little after 2 p.m., when the house manager explained that the show would start a few minutes late. Then he made another announcement. Then another, and another, finally offering those who couldn’t or didn’t want to stay the chance to reschedule or receive a refund.

Most people stayed, talking and snacking; I was grateful that I always bring a book. When the show started at about 3 p.m., the audience was in good spirits, so much so that a prerecorded announcement encouraging us to “turn off cell phones and say hello to your neighbor” received a hearty laugh, because that’s what we’d been doing already. That warm wave of joy gave the play a lift, just when a cynical theater critic might have feared that the audience would be hostile.

I can think of many life situations in which a wait of nearly an hour would provoke resentment, anger, and worse. Are all theater audiences so forgiving? I hope so.