Kokuro, a humble, gentle peasant man, is out collecting firewood finds a wounded crane and, struck by its beauty, removes the arrow from its wing. The "crane”" - a cleverly constructed puppet shaped like a giant origami crane - is designed by Stegmeir and controlled by the chorus, who make the crane preen itself in a charming, lifelike manner and flap away majestically. Later, in the middle of a snowstorm, a beautiful woman mysteriously appears at Kokuro’s door and offers herself as his bride. Thus begins the tale of Kokuro and his Crane Wife.

Mark Sutton, whose sweetly hangdog face and simple mien work perfectly with his character, plays Kokuro. Both he and his foil, the graceful April Jones (earthy yet ethereal as the Crane Wife), give stylized, restrained performances in keeping with the play’s motifs, yet each conveys a deeply soulful sense of love and respect towards the other, creating a completely delightful pairing. When they smile and bow while gazing into one another’s eyes, it’s hard to suppress a smile of happiness at the lonely, good-hearted peasant and the mysterious, grateful beauty who is his deserved reward.

It’s easier to shine in a single role, much more difficult to shine as a chorus. Choral lines must be spoken at exactly the same time, and choral movements begun at the same time. The chorus of The Crane Wife is one of the finest I have ever seen, rising to every challenge a chorus faces with humor, grace, and total professionalism. No one choral actor hogs the spotlight, yet each is allowed to steal a moment of the show in his or her turn. And steal the moments they do! Each member seems to have the ability to both move gracefully within the chorus and, when required, step neatly out with a fully-realized character. The chorus not only controls the crane puppet, performs dance moves, and chorally voices Kokuro’s desires, but they don hats and, in a flash, double as a bunch of nosy, ignorant, comical villagers! Singly or as a group, they’re a wickedly talented bunch, and director Alan Poindexter has used their talents wisely and well. Jill Bloede steps completely away from the chorus to play Kokuro’s greedy neighbor. She’s a hit as the blowhard next door, and steals all her scenes until the arrival of a towering Samurai puppet (another wonderful Stegmeir creation) operated by the remaining chorus and voiced by Joanna Gerdy. Gerdy is marvelous here, borrowing the inflections of Noh and Kabuki speech for kid-pleasing comic effect.

Alan Poindexter’s direction shows an extraordinary flair for drama and sublime visuals. Though the numerous dramatic lighting effects, the artful use of pre-recorded sound, and the monochromatic set and costumes are potent attention-grabbers in themselves, Poindexter keeps the focus on story and meaning. The heart of the tale is never drowned in ostentatious music or showy effects - with great skill, he has woven his cast’s and crew’s many remarkable talents into a cohesive, powerful drama. Though he’s directed for the company before, Poindexter was only recently anointed as CTOC’s artistic director. The job is well deserved.

I was very nearly moved to tears by the play’s emotional ending. With The Crane Wife, CTOC has created a hypnotic, mesmerizing fairytale, a visual and aural feast with a brave ending and a powerful moral. CTOC is for the children, yes, but it’s also for the child inside - I was hardly the only adult there without children in tow. The company consistently creates some of the most vibrant, compelling, technically-challenging theatre in the city. Exquisite, meaningful, and fun for all ages, Poindexter’s debut as CTOC’s artistic director is auspicious indeed.

Jennifer Saylor, April 28, 2002