What fun to hear laughter reverberating through the Westport Country Playhouse again! 

The perceptive comedy “Kim’s Convenience” revolves around gruff Mr. Kim (David Shih) – a.k.a. Appa – an immigrant who, many years ago, opened a neighborhood grocery store in Toronto, Canada. He’s a Korean Archie Bunker, bragging how he can immediately spot a shoplifter while spewing exaggerated racism and stereotypical prejudices, particularly against the Japanese.

His totally assimilated, 30 year-old daughter, Janet (Cindy Im), is an aspiring photographer. Since she’s still single and living at home, her devoted mother – a.k.a. Umma (Chuja Seo) – is understandably concerned – at least until Alex (Eric R. Williams), a local policeman, shows up.

Then there’s Janet’s older brother, Jung (Hyunmin Rhee), the prodigal son who showed great scholastic potential but abruptly left home at age 16 after a horrific fight with Appa, who is adept at martial arts.

Now, Appa’s big worry concerns the future, his legacy. Who will run his beloved store when he no longer can? Since the neighborhood is gradually gentrifying, he’s received a generous offer to sell, but he’s determined not to.

Playwright Ins Choi and director Nelson T. Eusebio III adroitly explore the delicate generational balance between gratitude and ingratitude in a poignant relationship drama that’s, not surprisingly, filled with subtle conflict. 

Led by patriarchal protagonist David Shih, the intricate cultural bond that binds the ensemble cast is palpable, even endearing. Kudos to set designer You-Shin Chen, costumer Lux Haac, lighting designer Marie Yokoyama with sound design by Twi McCullum.

If the plot – heartache leavened with humor and hope – sounds a bit like a sit-com/soap opera, it should – since Choi’s play, which made its debut at the 2011 Toronto Fringe Festival, subsequently spawned a Netflix show, also titled “Kim’s Convenience,” that has completed its fifth season. 

FYI: Audience members must present proof of vaccination and wear a mask at all times while inside the Westport Country Playhouse. It’s just a shame that “Kim’s Convenience” plays such a short run, closing on Sunday, July 17. Catch it while you can.

For fun, familiar entertainment, families are ready to come back to movie theaters. The unexpectedly strong debut of “Minions: The Rise of Gru” proved that. Previously, the original “Despicable Me” (2010) spun off two sequels in 2012 and 2017 and a prequel in 2015. 

In this installment of the madcap cartoon franchise, Gru’s story begins in 1976 as the Vicious 6, a group of super-villains (voiced by Lucy Lawless, Taraji P. Henson, Dolph Lundgren, Danny Trejo and Jean-Claude Van Damme…a.k.a. “Jean-Clawed”), oust their legendary leader, Wild Knuckles (voiced by Alan Arkin), after acquiring a mystical medallion known as the Zodiac jewel.

Although Gru (voiced by Steve Carell) is only a 12 year-old, living in suburbia, he already has hundreds of tiny Minions (all voiced by Pierre Coffin) at his beck-and-call. Yet when he’s invited to join the Vicious 6, they mock his youth. So he simply steals their newly acquired supernatural stone to prove he’s ready, willing and able to propagate their evil endeavors. And that’s actually Julie Andrews’ voice as Gru’s mother.

But one of his blundering henchmen loses the gem and Gru is kidnapped and taken to San Francisco. Then, a martial arts master/acupuncturist, known as Master Chow (voiced by Michelle Yeoh), teaches loyal Minions Bob, Stuart and Kevin the skills they need for a rescue. So much for plot.

Simplistically scripted by Matthew Fogel and, once again, directed by Kyle Balda, along with Brad Abelson, and Jonathan De Val, it’s got lots of sight gags and physical humor from those energetic, titular, yellow, pill-shaped, subservient creatures, clad in blue denim overalls and goggles, babbling incomprehensible, high-pitched gibberish – a.k.a. Minionese – comprised of multiple European languages. 

On the Granger Gauge of 1 to 10, “Minions: The Rise of Gru” is a sweetly satirical, slapstick 7, playing in theaters – with Minions merchandise flooding stores.

Skye Borgman’s documentary “Girl in the Picture” is the tragic tale of a 20 year-old, blond-haired woman who barely knew her own identity. Her body was found on the side of the road in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, in April, 1990. 

Was it a hit-and-run? Hospital staff noted many ‘older’ bruises on her body, along with scratches on her chest, and immediately suspected her husband Clarence. Known as Tonya Hughes, she was an exotic dancer with a two year-old son, Michael. Problem was: the real Tonya Hughes died 20 years ago.

Called “weird” and “menacing” by her stripper friends, Clarence subsequently lost custody of Michael, who was placed with loving foster parents, who cared for him for four years with Clarence maintaining visitation rights. When paternity tests confirmed that Clarence was not Michael’s biological father, he kidnapped the boy which attracted the attention of the FBI.

FBI agents discovered that Clarence had tried to collect on Tonya’s life insurance policy with a Social Security number belonging to fugitive Franklin Delano Floyd, a sexual predator. Witnesses later identified Tonya as Sharon Marshall, a smart student who’d received a full scholarship to Georgia Tech to study aerospace engineering. Clarence/Floyd was actually her father. Eventually, the story encompasses incest, rape, child abuse, domestic violence and multiple identities.

What baffles me, however, is why we’re so obsessed with true crime.

According to ’experts,’ a fascination with good vs. evil is normal and healthy. We’re understandably curious about what drives people to commit extreme acts, looking for some insight into the twisted psychology of a killer. The media understands: if it bleeds, it leads. Violent predatory crimes are always top news.

“Serial killers tantalize people much like traffic accidents, train wrecks or natural disasters,” wrote criminology professor Scott Bonn in “Why We Love Serial Killers” in Time magazine. “The public’s fascination with them can be seen as a specific manifestation of its more general fixation on violence and calamity. In other words, the actions of a serial killer may be horrible to behold but much of the public simply cannot look away due to the spectacle.”

On the Granger Gauge, “Girl in the Picture” is a grisly, gruesome 6, streaming on Netflix.