Author: Aaron Krause

Norwalk High School junior Lauren Steffanni has been drawn to Mary Poppins ever since she was little. The nanny with the magical umbrella that makes her fly is so perfect and confident, Steffanni said she could’t help but admire her.  

Soon, area residents — including, most likely, present-day little girls, will look up to Steffanni — literally. They’ll have to, since she’ll fly. And so will NHS senior Noah Little, who will play the equally mysterious Bert in the NHS production of “Mary Poppins.” A cast and crew of more than 40 will perform the show at 7 p.m. March 12, 13 and 14 as well as 3 p.m. March 15 in the performing arts center next to NHS.

Diane Paulus is a disguiser extraordinaire.

How else to explain the magic she’s accomplished by helming the high-flying, magical American Repertory Theater production of “Pippin?”

A re-imagined version of the hackneyed, predictable, thin story about a young man looking to do something extraordinary played on Broadway for 709 performances last year. It won four 2013 Tony Awards, including Best Musical Revival.

Playwright Greg Pierce could’ve written “Slowgirl” as a straightforward, “from the headlines” play about bullying in which all characters are present, the situation plays out in front of us and the tragic consequences revealed.

Such a play could result in powerful theater, leading us to action.

But Pierce is aiming for something deeper here.

Why is the woman who’s grieving the loss of her 4-year-old son talking about parallel existences to the teenager who accidentally killed her child?

What’s she doing befriending him in the first place? Isn’t she supposed to harbor animosity toward him, like her husband does? After all, losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to a parent.

But the grieving process is complex and different people react in different ways.

There’s an exchange in the heartfelt, humorous and tear-jerker play “Trying,” a true story, during which the killing of Martin Luther King Jr. is mentioned.

One of the play’s two characters, the aging, weak former attorney general under President Franklin Roosevelt, asks his young secretary if she knows any blacks who’d discuss the tragedy.

She doesn’t.

“Neither do I,” he responds. “Therein lies the root of the problem. We don’t live with them, we don’t go to school with them, we don’t work with them. One of their poets, Zora Neale Hurston, said, “You can’t know there ‘till you go there.”