Theater Review: REEL TO REEL (Rogue Machine & HorseChart)

Cover art for 'John Kolvenbach's Reel to Reel' with a glowing heart and soundwave design.

LIFE ON REWIND

In a co-production with HorseChart Theatre, Rogue Machine Theatre continues its astounding season with John Kolvenbach‘s gem of a play, Reel to Reel, a heart-warming, but definitely not sappy, time-jumping story of a 55-year marriage between the determined Maggie Spoon (Alley Mills Bean), a sound and performance artist, and her more reticent but deeply enamored husband, the wistful filmmaker Walter Harp (Jim Ortlieb).

In this four-hander one-act, we will see the couple at three different ages—82, 42, and 27. At rise, the 82-year-old Maggie is bent over her work desk, busily doing what she’s always done—focusing on the sound recordings she’s been making since she was a child, splicing and taping the old-fashioned way. As a former radio producer who also hand-edited, I appreciated the dangling pieces of recording tape, scotch taped to her work desk, that she’ll be using to splice together an audio storytelling compilation about their lives.

Alley Mills Bean, Jim Ortlieb

In a grey, plush house robe, Walter—trying to break Maggie’s editing concentration—comments that he no longer cares if it’s “52 degrees and sunny”; at his age, he goes out into the neighborhood in that robe. He thinks she’s not paying attention, wondering if she hears him, but she stands up in her plaid flannel pajamas and slippers, puts headphones on him, and plays the first thing she ever recorded: her parents’ washing machine, which serves to ground them both. This bit of ASMR—short for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response—is a lovely moment that elucidates how the play is ostensibly about “sound” itself but, really, it’s about a loving relationship. That strange, tingly sensation some people get when they hear certain soft, repetitive sounds like whispering, tapping, or—in this case—the gentle soothing hum of a washing machine, is like your brain getting a scalp massage and your spine saying, “thanks.” This is definitely a “reel to reel” relationship, and Mills and Ortlieb make the 82-year-olds completely organic.

Soon, we meet the unnerving 27-year-old Maggie (Samantha “Sami” Klein) who spies wavering Walter (Brett Aune) at a party, where she sets her sights on him, though he cannot fathom why. She drags him home and love will be made. Maggie’s a strong woman who knows what she wants and knows how to get it, and he’s swept up by her intensity. There will be complications along the way, making for some bumpy hiccups. Knowing they’ll get past it does not intrude on the drama.

Samantha Klein, Brett Aune

Then, by some indescribable shift in their body language, facial expressions, and attitudes, Klein and Aune now inhabit the couple at 42, in the stormier midlife portion of their long-standing relationship. She’s off to London to perform, he’s envious of her going, she offers to take him, he says no—and finally, to her astonishment, he asks her to marry him. No spoiler here: this is, after all, a story about a 55-year-(and three-months)-long relationship, which up ’til now may not have been “legal” but—for all intents and purposes—always fully committed. It’s notable that Klein and Aune are a couple in real life, together for 16 years; this clearly underscores the depth in their depictions of Maggie and Walter at 27 and 42.

There’s a fifth character, Betty (also played by Klein), Walter’s long-time friend and confidante. She’s energetically New York-ish, who periodically cheers him on, especially when, after his initial coupling, Maggie disappears. Walter tells Betty that being with Maggie is like, “Being relieved of a terror you didn’t know you had, and when it’s gone, you hear flute music.”

Jim Ortlieb, Alley Mills Bean

Walter will realize that until Maggie came into his life, he’s been torn with shame over relationships; through Maggie, that shame now brings so much joy. “Her ass! A guilty wonder… Her calves lower my IQ.” This man is enthralled with this woman, and even though she’s the doer, and he doesn’t feel deserving, she loves him deeply.

What’s unique about this production is that sounds are being made live onstage by the performers themselves behind a translucent scrim on a Foley stage, accessed via sliding doors with windows that act as scene shifters. Scenic Designer Evan A. Bartoletti and Sound and Foley Designer Jeff Gardner allow for seamless transitions from one scene of action and sound-making to the next, gliding as easily as the doors themselves.

Samantha Klein, Jim Ortlieb

As for sound, Maggie’s been at this all her life, and when she asked for a tape recorder as a 9-year-old, her first act was to record that washing machine. And then, to understand the mystery of what makes a successful marriage work, she placed the recorder behind her parents’ bed to hear what they talk about together.

Later, 82-year-old Walter wants to make a list of the top hundred things that they love about each other, and—accompanied by sounds—we hear snoring, cracking knees, and the creaking, suspenseful noise of a cabinet slowly being closed. The sound of applause will introduce us to the stage where Maggie performs the eccentrically autobiographical sound-story she’s been making all her life, using the many recordings she’s collected. In these scenes, and another in London, we learn more about their lives.

(center) Samantha Klein, (back) Alley Mills Bean, Brett Aune, Jim Ortlieb

Other senses aren’t excluded: When she says he smells like greenhouse dirt you could grow mushrooms in, it’s another tender moment that acknowledges the everyday in a relationship.

A most remarkable section has both young and old Walter and Maggie become interchangeable, continuously switching back and forth. Never once did this require a willing suspension of disbelief because the direction makes it smooth and the topnotch cast grounds it in verisimilitude.

Brett Aune, Alley Mills Bean, Jim Ortlieb

Indeed, Director Matthew McCray‘s blocking is terrific. On stage is a desk with a reel-to-reel recorder (naturally) and a rolling chair; newspaper clippings taped to the desk; a large armchair and two sidewall platforms where the couple sometimes sit across the playing area from one another; a front door that we do see; and the living room exit to the bedroom that we don’t. Every placement of bodies, every entrance and exit makes complete sense, no step is misplaced or unwarranted.

Costumes by Vicki Conrad include Maggie’s curve-hugging red party dress and army boots, and Walter’s plain vanilla shirts and pants, plus those really comfy, cozy at-home outfits. Maggie also has a stage presence in all black that’s effective and spot-on for a performance artist. And we’ll see Walter in a suit at the end. There are some lovely lighting effects to mark scene changes, courtesy of Azra King-Abadi.

Alley Mills Bean, Jim Ortlieb

I attended this play with a friend whose late husband was a renowned radio dramatist and artist. We were both in awe of the performances, but for her it was more personal. Having worked with her husband during his lifetime to produce live and recorded shows and cataloging his already-existing work, she’s now posthumously collecting and compiling more of it, and his presence lingers through the sounds and texts he produced. Sound is a provocative medium.

An expert production, Reel to Reel doesn’t just tell us a love story in a compact 85 minutes, it lets us hear one—the static crackle of a cassette, the hum of a machine, the rustle of flannel, even the creak of a door become love notes in a lifelong duet. Long after the curtain falls, you may find yourself listening a little differently—to your own footsteps, your partner’s breathing, the fridge kicking on at midnight. The sounds of our lives are always playing; Reel to Reel reminds us they’re the music of memory.

Samantha Klein, Brett Aune

photos by Jeff Lorch

Reel to Reel
Rogue Machine Theatre
Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Avenue
Fri and Sat at 8; Sun at 2
85 minutes, no intermission
ends on August 23, 2025
for tickets ($15-$45), call 855.585.5185 visit Rogue Machine

for more shows, visit Theatre in LA

Sarah A. Spitz is an award-winning public radio producer, retired from KCRW, where she also produced arts stories for NPR. She writes features and reviews for various print and online publications.

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