Saturday, December 16, 2017
Fiasco Theater is playing Shakespeare’s great comedy Twelfth Night at Classic Stage Company (136 East 13th Street) until Saturday January 6, 2018. Run don’t walk to catch this exciting, funny, musical, lyrical, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, pastoral-romantic comedy best suited to this season.
Twelfth Night is often described as a perfect comedy and it may well be so. But for that twin thing. The romance is restrained (what with people in disguise), the comedy is not. And in this production, the cast is superlative. May I present:
Andy Grotelueschen as Sir Toby Belch
Jessie Austrian as Olivia
Emily Young as Viola/Cesario
Noah Brody as Orsino (also co-directed)
Ben Steinfeld as Feste (also co-directed)
Tina Chilip as Maria
Paul L. Coffey as Malvolio
Paco Tolson as Sir Andrew Aguecheek (among others)
Javier Ignacio as Sebastian (among others)
David Samuel as Antonio (among others)
John Doyle’s scenic design is flexible and creative, as is costume design by Emily Rebholz.
Andy Grotelueschen’s Sir Toby may well be the best funniest and most consistently alive I’ve seen, with a real relationship between him and Tina Chilip’s happily hilarious Maria.
Ben Steinfeld as Feste shows himself as a fine comedic actor and musician and singer, quite romantic, and apparently a good director, since he and Noah Brody directed this production.
Noah Brody is a well-developed and believable Orsino (although I will always remember the delicious Orsino of Paul Rudd at Lincoln Center).
Jessie Austrian’s Olivia is a sex-starved delight.
Emily Young’s Cesario/Viola is witty, strong and quite marvelous.
As is their custom, when not actively onstage, the members of the Fiasco Theater sit or stand on the sidelines watching their colleagues and laughing along. And accompanying one another on musical instruments and vocals, which makes for a funny, musical, delightful evening.
As always, the twins bit in the last scene goes on too long — how dense are these people — but that’s just a momentary annoyance that may only happen to people (like me) who’ve seen the play many times.
So go to 13th Street, go online, get a ticket, celebrate a well-over-200-year-old play. Just because it’s done all the time doesn’t mean it’s always done as well as this. Trust Fiasco Theater. Go!
~ Molly Matera, signing off to go bake Christmas Cookies....
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Last Spring I bought tickets to a "City Center Encore” of Frederick Loewe and Alan Jay Lerner’s Brigadoon. City Center typically does “concert” stagings — that is minimal staging, some costuming, broad stroke choreography. After all, these shows run less than a week and don’t have much time for rehearsal. Stage actor union rules for staged readings were stated in the program — performers might have “scripts in hand.”
Not this time. This production was put together for a Gala on the Wednesday, so what I saw that Thursday night was highly polished.
A wonderful scrim separated the onstage orchestra from the action (sometimes down, sometimes not) on which projections showed NYC, Scotland, heather on the hills, a forest, all in watercolor softness, with soft or bold colors depending on the scene. Each scene was gorgeous, naturalistic without being in the slightest bit photographic. A steep rounded staircase representing any number of hills separated the onstage orchestra from the action (except when the conductor handed a branch of heather to Fiona).
Kelli O’Hara as Fiona has the voice of an angel but doesn’t leave it at that. She breathes life into her character — her Fiona is real and warm and alive.
Choreographer and director Christopher Wheeldon was respectful of the original Agnes DeMille choreography, which even I could recognize (women’s hands), but enhanced, streamlined, and strengthened it. The women dancers were delightful, and the men … Oh my....
Men in kilts. Dancing. Leaping. Twirling. Gasp.
Robert Fairchild (formerly of the NYC Ballet, who danced American in Paris, which I now regret not seeing just to have watched his performance) played the sad and angry “villain” of the piece, Harry Beaton, who is a much more interesting character than the Americans from the 20th century. Ballet dancers have played Harry in the past on stage, as well as in the film. Fairchild was magnificent, every movement sublime. He has not yet developed much vocal guts as an actor, but his body does it all.
As the second romantic lead, Charlie Dalrymple, Ross Lekites sings smoothly and sweetly. He sang two of my favorite songs, “Go Home With Bonnie Jean” and “Come to me, bend to me,” breaking my heart in the process and moving his fiancée Jean (Sara Esty) and her friends into their lyrical dance. Ms. Esty is not much a vocal presence, but that hardly matters. She was totally present and graceful, telling her love story with the lines of her body, giving Charlie and us her heart.
Stephanie J. Block was a big vocal presence as Meg Brockie, singing the hilariously tongue-twisting “Me Mother’s Wedding Day.” Once the Americans came to Brigadoon, Meg pined after Jeff, the sad-sack drunken friend of the leading man, Tommy. Aasif Mandvi played Jeff with wit and warm sarcasm. As the object of Meg’s affection/lust, Mandvi totally embodied this potentially depressing character all the way to his last moments onstage.
Patrick Wilson was Tommy, the romantic lead opposite Kelli O’Hara. I’m not a Wilson fan, I’m afraid. Whenever I’ve seen him he’s perfectly competent, he just doesn’t interest me. He did his job well here; a strong singer, performing fine duets with Fiona, and he actually did more than justice to the overly expository songs of the second act. I always enjoyed Gene Kelly’s depiction of Tommy in the movie, but then I always enjoy Gene Kelly. Perhaps the role is just poorly written.
Dakin Matthews was excellent as Mr. Lundie, who explains the (utterly absurd but who cares) premise of the play. Patricia Delgado was expressive as the woman who clearly wanted Harry Beaton and danced the thrilling funeral dance. This was far from morose, rather full of passion and very beautiful.
It was a truly joyous evening at the beautiful City Center.
~ Molly Matera, signing off still hearing the lovely music and thrilling to Robert Fairchild dancing in my dreams.
Saturday, December 2, 2017
The Band’s Visit, lovingly directed by the wonderful David Cromer, is a beautiful piece of theatre with delicious music and characters in a handsomely constructed evening.
Based on the Israeli film of the same name, the play’s book is by Itamar Moses with music and lyrics by David Yazbek, music that soared and made us dance in our seats and our souls. Music and love, that’s what The Band’s Visit is about. It is seductive and charming, sweet but not treacly.
Patrick McCollum’s delightful and elegant choreography grows from the characters’ movements and feelings, easily making its way around Scott Pask’s imaginative scenic design.
While its music put me in mind of the brilliant Indecent earlier this year [http://mollyismusing.blogspot.com/2017/08/], The Band’s Visit is much simpler, a snippet — more of a short story than the full novel Indecent resembled. Nonetheless, The Band’s Visit gives deep satisfaction with interesting characters we can identify with in ordinary and extraordinary social situations. A small town visited by unexpected strangers, foreigners. In a small American town, would these foreigners have been taken in and enjoyed? I may be grumpy and downright depressed about the state of our nation, but I’m very much afraid not.
The basic story is simple. An Egyptian band is invited to visit an Arab Cultural Center in an Israeli city to play a concert of traditional music. There are two towns in Israel with names that sound, to non-Israelis, extremely similar. The city expecting the band is Petah Tikva. The aforementioned Egyptian band gets on the wrong bus to the wrong town — Bet Hatikva. According to its residents, said wrong town not only has no Cultural Center but no culture at all, although it does have a roller skating rink. It’s a dusty desert town with people who are terribly bored and hopeless, yet somehow the best humans you could hope for. The greeting the lost band received was musical and hilarious led by the thrilling Katrina Lenk, as a local café owner named Dina. A taste: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzcHlnJ4c1Q Dina and the Egyptian bandleader, Tewfiq, charmingly played by Tony Shalhoub, explore one another as they while away the evening, gently discovering each other’s past and present.
The cast is sublime, featuring actors who are musicians, actors who dance or skate, music everywhere. There’s John Cariani as a young father learning to be a husband and Etai Benson as a lonely young man who befriends a sax player with a passion for Chet Baker. Unlikely friendships form, and music arises from them all. A running theme of what appears to be a hopeless long-distance romance gives us Adam Kantor staring at a pay phone for hours, awaiting a call from his girlfriend. When that young man sings, he breaks hearts.
The Band’s Visit is a seductive musical evening, an exquisite short story with far-reaching themes to which we’d be wise to pay attention.
~ Molly Matera, signing off and offering this: If you have lost faith or hope, go to The Band’s Visit, then share the joy.
Sunday, November 19, 2017
The other night I saw a children’s show at Classic Stage Company called The Stowaway, a clever compilation of Shakespeare’s words and phrases in a storyline pulling a little from here, a little from there, with pirates and shipwrecks, usurping dukes, a little magic, and a talking ship’s figurehead. It was a lot of fun, and I was only sorry to see too small an audience. This Trusty Sidekick Theater Company production deserved more. The play is technically for kids 5-12, but they let me in without one! Alas, its last performance was November 19th, so I’m afraid you missed it. Keep an eye out for this fun company of players presenting original theatre for kids. https://classicstage.org/shows/2017/11/the-stowaway-or-how-the-mistress-quickly-went-from-madcap-to-majestic/
Also starting out from East 13th Street…
Compare and Contrast: Double Vision of the Forest of Arden
Two productions of William Shakespeare's As You Like It reveal missing pieces in each. For Classic Stage Company (CSC), the usurping Duke Fredrick merely serves to throw people together to fall in love in the Forest of Arden. On the other hand, in Arden Everywhere — the other As You Like It at Baruch’s Performing Arts Center, or BPAC — the new inhabitants of the Forest of Arden are refugees waiting to see what may happen next in their lives as determined by unknown others. Banishment leads to refugees — we just didn’t call them that until Arden Everywhere’s director Jessica Bauman did. Shakespeare’s Jaques is melancholy in this beautiful — albeit cold — place, but perhaps we should have been listening to him more closely.
CSC’s John Doyle shows us only a simplistic if charming love story — well, several love stories, which lead to marriages that silence the women who have contributed so strongly to survival in exile.
Doyle’s As You Like It, running under two hours, leaves out most of the story and conflict so that, no matter how pretty the ditties composed by Stephen Schwartz, the evening is almost pointless. Except, of course, that it was such a pleasure to watch Ellen Burstyn’s stillness onstage and hear the simplicity of the Seven Ages of Man at her hands in her abbreviated performance of Jaques. Abbreviated it was, as was the whole play.
While I enjoyed the Arden Everywhere’s Jaques as played by Tommy Schrider, perhaps the actor is too young to deliver the Seven Ages of Man as well as Ms. Burstyn did. Hers was on the spot, extempore, as it were. His was recited.
John Doyle may think he’s stripped the play down to its elements at CSC, but in fact he stripped it to ten actors in search of a play. The cast sang Stephen Schwartz’s ditties very well, particularly Bob Stillman as Duke Senior. Unfortunately, the addition of jazzy music did not make up for the lack of a play. Favorite performances in this production were Rosalind (Hannah Cabell), Celia (Quincy Tyler Bernstine), and Phebe (a multi-level Leenya Rideout) and the inestimable Ms. Burstyn.
In Arden Everywhere, the Phebe over-acted terribly, as if she were in a thousand-seat house (she wasn’t) but Helen Cespedes’ Rosalind and Liba Vaynberg’s Celia were fabulous.
Since Jessica Bauman did not cut away the entire play, Dikran Tulaine as the Dukes Senior and Frederick got to remove a coat and become either the nice or the nasty duke before our eyes. This was much more interesting for the audience. Not to mention true to the play even though it didn’t use the play’s name, while CSC used the name but did something else, the way films do.
Touchstones were played by Dennis Rozee in Arden Everywhere and Andre de Shields in the CSC production. Both performances were expert and funny while totally different from one another, which is one of most entertaining aspects of seeing two productions of the same play in close proximity.
The Oliver/Silvius in Arden Everywhere were well differentiated as played by Kambi Gathesha. Some of the cast at BPAC were not professionals and their inexperience showed, so the play as a whole had some issues. But at least Arden Everywhere did the whole play, not just the romantic comedy that CSC’s AYLI presented. Both evenings were enjoyable, but Arden Everywhere was far more satisfying.
Molly Matera, signing off to think about men in kilts.
Sunday, November 12, 2017
J.B. Priestly’s An Inspector Calls has tension and mystery, causing anxiety.
J.B. Priestly’s Time and the Conways has not.
The Roundabout’s production of Time and the Conways at the American Airlines Theatre on 42nd Street is beautifully produced and cleverly staged. Costuming, furnishing, sound, lights, it has all that. And perfectly competent, often more than competent, performances by the actors.
What it doesn’t have are interesting characters. Or, barring interesting, at least likeable characters. All these people worry about is money they do not earn. They’re boring. They’re unpleasant. Some are downright nasty. By the end of the play, we wonder if Mrs. Conway’s late husband, who died some time before the play began, deliberately drowned himself to get away from her bad mothering.
Downton Abbey (constantly brought to mind in the production’s advertising because of Elizabeth McGovern’s presence as the matriarch and the television series’ vastly superior depiction of a family with a certain stature in the beginning of the 20th century undergoing a massive change in society in the decades that follow the first world war) worked because we had time to give a damn, to know even the villains, to watch the girls grow up. In the three scenes of this play, the fine acting shows us a good deal but not enough to make us care.
At least not me.
What’s most surprising here is that this production is smoothly directed by the splendid Rebecca Taichmann yet it has no life. It is a set piece of another time, instead of being about time as Priestly apparently intended. To read about a play and be told the author’s intent is not the same thing as getting it by watching and listening.
The players and designers of this production gave it their all, so the problem was not with them:
· Anna Camp is bubbly as Hazel, the pretty one, at least to people like herself. She is mean to her working class suitor, and predictably marries him so that she fades into a wan imitation of herself19 years later.
· Anna Baryshnikov is excellent as the sweet Carol, the favorite who died young
· Gabriel Ebert does fine work as Alan, the eldest son, who appears an unambitious doofus but is surprisingly wise
· Brooke Bloom is strident and then heartbreaking as Madge the socialist daughter in a sad depiction from youthful hope to the bitter submission of age.
· Charlotte Parry gracefully plays Kay the young writer who broke free of the family, and, despite her disappointed sadness, at least has dignity
· Cara Ricketts as family friend Joan, obviously enamored of young Robin. Like Hazel’s romance, this doesn’t work out too well. Perhaps Priestley was really writing about sad upper class marriages.
· Matthew James Thomas smartly played Robin, the pretty son who will quite obviously be a useless bounder. Perhaps I’ve read/seen too many stories of English society between the wars, but that too was terribly predictable.
· Alfredo Narciso did excellent work as Gerald Thornton — the nice young man who’s not family but grows up to be the family solicitor. He had nice moments of clear silent emotion and repression.
· Steven Boyer was excellently unpleasant as Ernest Beevers, who creeps into a family gathering in the first scene practically stalking Hazel, returning as her husband in the later time period. A dislikeable character, Boyer is of the working class, and while we empathize with his position, we wish he could rise above the nasty upper class family he married into.
The production has fine design work, clever and marvelous set design by Neil Patel, and his usual excellent lighting by Christopher Akerlind, and fine costumes by Paloma Young (with hair and wig design by Leah J. Loukas), respectively.
Finally, I must note the fascinating inclusion of “Hands On,” sign interpreters of the play who discreetly but clearly signed the entire performance house left.
~ Molly Matera, looking for something more pleasing as the Roundabout season continues.
Thursday, October 26, 2017
MEASURE FOR MEASURE is a problematical play. Modern audiences have difficulty comprehending Isabella’s choices, all of the characters are unlikable, and in the final moments, the Duke may be as low and vain as the fallen Angelo.
The primary problem with the Public Theater’s bizarre production is that the audience members who do not already know the play, the characters, the story, will not have a clue what’s happening in this production by the Elevator Repair Company.
Some of the acting is fine, but the direction by John Collins is not. Too damn clever in a concept, and greatly lacking in storytelling. The Public Theater calls it "an experimental production." Apparently the experiment is how to not tell the tale.
Some of the acting is fine, but the direction by John Collins is not. Too damn clever in a concept, and greatly lacking in storytelling. The Public Theater calls it "an experimental production." Apparently the experiment is how to not tell the tale.
Happily, the excellent Scott Shepherd as The Duke was comprehensible and funny and took us all into his confidence. That helped. Rinne Groff was an excellent Isabella, attempting modernity for a difficult character. Pete Simpson as Angelo was just odd, Mike Iveson as Lucio alternated between hilarious and annoying, which sounds like a good impersonation of Lucio. Vin Knight as Escalus was serviceable. Most of the cast, however, was sub-par, for which I believe the director must be held to account.
What the Public calls “technological dramaturgy” is reliance on the projection of Shakespeare’s script on the walls of the stage, presumably hoping we’d read the words we could not hear. The beginning of the play was directed for everyone’s speech to be so fast the audience could not comprehend it. It was a relief when the speech slowed to molasses as Isabel met her brother, the lusty Claudio, in prison. This pivotal scene is a painful conversation, and while it may, in reality, feel excruciatingly slow, unfortunately that is not theatrical. The long pauses may have felt emotionally earned to the actors, but not to the audience. Then the play sped back up again, dolls were tossed about, and finally the play was over.
Measure for Measure is a challenge for any director, but there’s no need to toss the baby out with the bathwater.
THE TREASURER by Max Posner at Playwrights Horizons is beautifully played by a cast of four (two of them in multiple roles). Unfortunately, conceptually interesting as the play might have been, it has no beginning, a muddle of a middle, and no ending.
Even as directed by the brilliant David Cromer, this doesn’t feel like a play, but a pondering.
Laura Jellinek’s spare and practical scenic design served the space well, and costume design by David Hyman fit the characters. What fit the characters even better were the wonderful actors portraying them:
- Peter Friedman in the title role — nameless, only “The Son” in the program, to whom no one refers by name. Straightforward, simple, real, and perhaps the play’s “Everyman.”
- Deanna Dunagan is heartbreaking as the mother, Ida Armstrong — she definitely has a name, and wants everyone to know it. Ms. Dunagan shrinks rather than grows in the role, her gradual physical decline is perfection. She forces us to enjoy Ida, no matter how self-centered she was. After all, while most women grow up to fall into the role of mother, not all of them are suited to it, or want it. Ida insists she was a child when she married and when she had her children, but then she grew up and found true love. It seemed to me that she remained a child leaving everything to her more romantic second husband and then to her children when he died.
- Marinda Anderson and Pun Bandhu play the remaining roles of The Son’s two brothers as well as a salesperson and other strangers. Each character is clearly delineated by these fine actors. It was, however, initially confusing to hear a woman playing one of the brothers.
The play, even more than the Son, asks what is really owed parents who desert their children? “The Son” clearly feels his mother demands too much and isn’t necessarily entitled to it, but also thinks he’s wrong to resent her. Ida had no guilt over her poor performance as a mother; why has The Son such guilt over what he perceives as his poor performance as a son? Dutiful as he is, because he cannot love his errant mother, he’s sure he’s going to hell.
The play is not dull because the characters — as written and as acted — are not dull. It just doesn’t go anywhere. Well, perhaps on an escalator to hell.
Note: The program, of course, includes too much opinion from the artistic director of Playwrights Horizons and the playwright, so the play cannot live up to their emotional connection with their journey with the play. Which is why such things should only be read, if at all, after the performance.
Friday, September 1, 2017
|Lincoln Center, Friday night June 20, 2017. Photo Credit Me.|
June ended for me with Oslo by J.T. Rogers at the Vivian Beaumont Theater at Lincoln Center. The play was briskly intellectual, cleverly interesting, occasionally quite funny (people are), its characters were passionate in different ways — and yet the play was not. Oslo was about the unlikely yet true secret meetings leading up to the Oslo Accords and the Arab-Israeli Peace Process back in the 1990s. The production, directed by Bartlett Sher, was excellent, with great performances by all, particularly those who played more than one role. But something seemed to be missing for me, perhaps because I know that all this passion, manipulation, energy and sincere effort led merely, after all that, to a temporary success.
Not to mention I’d been overwhelmed by Indecent less than a week before….
On the day before Independence Day I saw 1984 at the Hudson Theatre. Alas it was all for show. Lots of shock value, with lighting effects that may be detrimental to people subject to migraines or epilepsy. Reed Birney was excellent. The play may be of possible interest to anyone who did not read the book in school — now that’s a dreadful thought leading to feelings of hopelessness. Simply put, the play was not good.
Read the book.
Then after Independence Day, more Shakespeare with Hamlet at the Anspacher Theater at the Public Theater in its downtown headquarters. Director Sam Gold’s production was innovative and exhilarating, playing in four hours that felt like two. Oscar Isaac is a splendid Hamlet, clever and soft, the boy next door with a secret. He is an actor with a technical mastery of the language that makes it all sound utterly spontaneous. The very small cast wove in and out of multiple characters. Standouts were Gayle Rankin as a quirky, golden-voiced Ophelia, Ritchie Coster as Claudius, Anatol Yusef as Laertes, and Peter Friedman as Polonius. Unfortunately, this limited run closes Sunday. (Yes, that’s this Sunday, 3 September.)
|Isaac as Hamlet with Rankin as Ophelia. Photo by Sara Krulwich|
A couple weeks after loving Sam Gold’s production of Hamlet, I saw his production of A Doll’s House Part 2 at the John Golden Theatre. At best, it was annoying. The play runs a four-act structure in 90 minutes, with mostly two-person scenes beyond which playwright Lucas Hnath must grow. For no good reason at all, Jayne Houdyshell’s character suddenly started swearing right and left. I felt it was probably so that Chris Cooper, the sole male in the cast, wouldn’t be the only character using foul language. And much as I typically like Laurie Metcalf, her Nora made me think of Roseanne, which is not pleasant for me. Condola Rashad was oddly intriguing as Nora and Torvald’s grown daughter. Director Sam Gold may have received accolades for this one, but I cannot agree this time.
|Jayne Houdyshell and Laurie Metcalf. (Photo by Brigitte Lacombe)|
In closing, it was a lively half year of theatre for me. When I look over my notes scribbled after these performances, one theme repeated. “Smartphones.” This bane of civilized discourse creates annoying addicts too self-centered to turn off their "phones" when requested, too insecure to get through intermission without them. It should be noted that this rude behavior is not limited to one generation. What a world. But that’s for another musing.
~ Molly Matera, signing off to enjoy Labor Day Weekend with friends and family. Be safe and have fun.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
In June I went back to Brooklyn for Cirkus Cirkor at the BAM Opera House.
It was not our first time enjoying this wonderful Swedish troupe, nor will it be the last. The Cirkus excels at death defying acrobatics. These people are awe-inspiring (and always inspire me to exercise, if only for a few days). One of the astounding acrobats, at the opening of the second half, came forward and told us all to stand up, put our feet together, and close our eyes. She also advised those of us on the edge — by which she meant the first row of the Mezzanine — to be careful! Our bodies would be constantly moving in tiny jerks to retain balance. When you’re not reading an e-mail or walking or driving or anything, stand still and close your eyes, and you’ll feel it — your new balance. It was a pleasing exercise in the middle of a thrilling evening.
Check their scheduled appearances here — in 2017, they’re in Europe, but they usually play the U.S. every year or two! https://cirkor.se/en/node/26523/turneplan
|Kristine Nielsen, Kate Burton, and Kevin Kline in Present Laughter.|
Then back to Broadway for Americans playing Brits:
Present Laughter at the St. James is not Noel Coward’s best play, and this production seemed almost set in stone. Of course, Kevin Kline was brilliant; and yet, the piece so lacked spontaneity that it just rode around him, like stationary horses on a merry-go-round. Still, Cobie Smulders made an excellent Broadway debut. Kate Burton was quite fine as the “estranged” wife, Kristine Nielsen hilarious if formulaic as Kline’s long-suffering secretary, and they all made Susan Hilftery’s costumes look fabulous on David Zinn’s gorgeous set, where I would be happy to live. And Reg Rogers was marvelous. The production, directed by Morris von Stuelpnagel, was expertly done for what it was; however, I felt there was a desperation to the play. Perhaps influenced by the cameras filming it that evening. Perhaps because it was a play Noel Coward wrote for himself to play in ... Perhaps it was all about the danger of me looking forward to something too much. I left the theatre a bit disappointed.
|The Joyous cast of INDECENT (Photo by Sara Krulwich)|
Later in June, Indecent at the Cort Theatre was threatening to close. I’d walked by the theatre all spring, more and more interested. Suddenly it was the weekend the play was scheduled to close, so I broke my own rule and trucked into Manhattan for a Saturday matinee. Theatre instincts won out over MTA dread.
The play Indecent by Paula Vogel and this production created by Vogel and director Rebecca Taichman combined their radiant talents and hearts to create sheer brilliance: This is what theatre is about. Indecent is light years beyond other plays of the season. Its subject matter ranges over religious life, pogroms, homosexuality, immigration, prejudice in all its forms, life in the theatre, censorship, and love. Oh, the love. Indecent is not a musical, but it has music and flowing, aching choreography by the scintillating David Dorfman, on top of imaginative story-telling that brought us into the lives of human beings in frightening times. My absolute favorite play of the season, Indecent is heart breaking and joyous at the same time. I was overcome. The play extended another 5-7 weeks past its closing date, but it is gone now, and I’m so sorry for everyone who did not see it.
I must call out Richard Topol’s gorgeous work as Lemml, the Stage Manager, and yet that's misleading because every performance was sterling, between actor/musicians and musician/actors. Oh hell, I’ll just list them all: Cheers to exemplary work by Katrina Lenk, Mimi Lieber, Max Gordon Moore, Tom Nelis, Steven Rattazzi, Adina Verson, Matt Darriau, Lisa Gutkin and Aaron Halva.
Also outstanding were Christopher Akerlind’s Tony-winning lighting design, Matt Hubbs’ sound design, scenic design by Riccardo Hernandez, costume design by Emily Rebholz, projection design by Tal Yarden, hair and wig design by J. Jared Janas and Dave Bosa, and the soul-baring and joyous work of Co-Composers and Co-Music Directors Lisa Gutkin and Aaron Halva.
And oh, the rain.
Molly Matera, signing off BUT I do have good news: For those who missed INDECENT onstage, it will be aired on PBS Great Performances on November 17: http://www.playbill.com/article/broadways-indecent-sets-november-air-date-on-pbs-great-performances
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
In early June, William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar at the Delacorte Theater (The Public Theater’s Shakespeare in the Park) was fun but imperfect, although not for any of the reasons Fox News and their followers thought. It is always a political play, of course. Theatre companies of the past four centuries have used it to do theatre’s job of holding that mirror up to “nature,” reflecting whatever the current leadership, in any country, was doing. The play did its job of throwing a spotlight on the ambition of the current power base and its adherents. This time the right wing was terribly upset by a production that showed an actor resembling Donald Trump as Julius Caesar, the deliciously slimy Gregg Henry keeping the production's promises. Those very same right-wing pundits were not at all bothered, in fact they were utterly silent, when the Guthrie cast an Obama lookalike as Julius Caesar a few years back. I trust we can all judge the significance of that.
For those who do not know, back in 44 B.C.E., Julius Caesar was stabbed in the Roman Senate house. That’s history. In Shakespeare’s play there are just a handful, perhaps two hands, of conspirators. Really there were more like 60, but that’s too large a cast for most stages or theatre companies. Shakespeare was no fool.
Fox News thought it highly significant that “everyone” who stabbed Caesar was a minority or a woman. In fact, Brutus was played by a stalwart of the Public Theater (and now television), Corey Stoll, who is a white male. Really their response just shows that the right wing does not read the classics or attend the theatre in NYC or anywhere else, where color-blind casting has been the norm for years.
Some aspects of Oscar Eustis’ production were sharp and funny, but some pushed the play a bit off course. It’s all very well to cast the marvelous Tina Benko as Calpurnia with an oddly Melania-like accent and Elizabeth Marvell as Marc Antony, playing it as a cross between a southern politician and C.J. from The West Wing. Most of the performances were highly effective.
However, the war in Rome after Caesar’s assassination was not between hippies and storm troopers, but a civil war between relative equals. Cinna the Poet was murdered by an ignorant and easily manipulated mob, not by state police. Veering off-book in the second half struck the wrong note after the humor of Gregg Henry’s characterization of Julius Caesar. Sometimes it’s not about taste, but about logic. Just telling Shakespeare’s story of Julius Caesar is quite significant enough.
~ Molly Matera, signing off until the next remembered evening of theatre....
Thursday, August 17, 2017
In May, I entered a Russian samovar or the interior of the Imperial Theatre on West 45th Street. Onstage and everywhere, the Broadway production of Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 has transformed the theatre into Napoleonic era Russia. While I have nothing against Josh Groban, I chose to see Dave Malloy (who returns to the role next week) as Pierre while Mr. Groban took a well-deserved vacation. It was a fabulous and exhilaratingly different evening.
Scenic Designer Mimi Lien redesigned the entire interior of the theatre to create the Russia of Tolstoy’s “War and Peace.” Paloma Young’s costumes fit each character like a bespoke glove, accompanied by fitting hair and wig design by Leah J. Loukas. With the complementary arts of lighting (Bradley King) and sound design (Nicholas Pope), this production and the fabulous characters and atmosphere and social politics actually inspired me to once against attempt to read that hefty Tome. Sam Pinkleton’s choreography took flight all around us and director Rachel Chavkin brought it all together in a wondrous whole.
|a highly unusual seating chart|
Dave Malloy, the composer, lyricist, book writer and orchestrator of the piece and originator of the role Pierre Off Broadway, has a gruff, bearlike demeanor and voice, and his Pierre was a grounding force in that extraordinary cast. They are an athletic bunch, from leads to chorus and ensemble, moving among and around the audience at all levels. This production has no second or third wall let alone a fourth.
After Malloy as Pierre (no, he hasn’t got Groban’s pipes, but his solid presence lends Pierre the gravitas he deserves) my favorite performer and his inseparable character was Lucas Steele as the roué and cad, Anatole, in a flamboyant performance as that despicable creature we adored. Denée Benton's Natasha was a delightfully lusty and foolish ingenue with the voice of an angel, whose best friend Sonya was well played by Brittain Ashford. Amber Gray is marvelous as Pierre’s wicked wife Hélène. There is no weak link in this astounding cast.
|Denee Benton as Natasha|
And the music. It soars it sings it dances it bounces it pines it weeps. Mr. Malloy is sensitive to every nuance, multi-talented, capturing the flavor and rhythms of Russia in a very American musical.
I don’t generally care for environmental theatre after a day of working —I do not want to work as audience as well. But the ensemble of Natasha Pierre…. are psychic — they knew instinctively which audience members just want to sit and enjoy the experience and which want to take part. They left me alone but sat on the step next to me.
I cannot say too much about this production of this wonderful musical play. I absolutely loved it and recommend it to all and sundry. Go. Bring your in-laws. Soon. It closes September 3, 2017!
~ Molly Matera, signing off to listen to the score in peace….not war
Sunday, August 13, 2017
It has been brought to my attention that I’ve not posted anything — about cats or gardens or theatre, nada — in months. Apologies. I’m here, my cats are here, my garden is growing, and I’ve seen a number of plays and dance programs and such in New York City in the past six months.
To catch you up, in January I saw….
Beauty Queen of Leenane at BAM
This was Martin McDonagh’s first produced play, which played in Europe and Broadway twenty years ago, directed then and now by Garry Hynes. I did not see it then. The first McDonagh play I saw was The Lieutenant of Inishmore, one of the funniest, most macabre and bloody plays I’ve ever seen. And, I believe, the play that taught me the word “fecking.”
The Beauty Queen of Leenane is hard to describe: it’s dour and depressing and dismal. People are mean, and yet a lot of it comes out funny. That’s what McDonagh does, he makes you laugh and feel guilty for laughing. As a McDonagh play, I expected some violence, and pretty crazy people, which he provided.
The second act was directed to run so slowly that all the echoes of Act I that may have been fabulous from a literary point of view were totally predictable theatrically, which is annoying and made the act very long. Mind you, when we got to the big reveal, it was astonishing, and Aisling O'Sullivan, who played Maureen, was just marvelous. As was the woman who played Maureen twenty years ago, who plays the mother this time around, Marie Mullen.
While I enjoyed most of it, I did get bored during the second half and overall was rather disappointed.
In February, I went to Carnegie Hall and enjoyed
Bamberg Symphony. It was just wonderful, I so enjoy being at Carnegie Hall. In the first half, the solo violinist did a little “Caprice” as a sort of encore (after he snapped his bowstring and had to borrow a bow from the First Violin), and at the end of the second half the orchestra did a brief encore as well. The sound is awe-inspiring in this magnificent place. The program was Mozart’s Overture to Don Giovanni, Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto, and finally Mahler’s Symphony No. 5. A lovely evening.
Then came Man of Good Hope at the BAM Opera House (from South Africa’s Isango Ensemble and Young Vic, based on a book by Jonny Steinberg and directed by Mark Dornford-May). The evening began with a bang as the full cast played half a dozen marimbas joyously, then ran around the steeply raked stage trading places. The audience, wide awake, left their dull days behind.
The conductor stepped on to the playing space with a tall man in traditional Somali garments and white skull cap. This was Assad Abdullahi, whose story we followed for two hours, from the age of 8 in Somalia when his mother was murdered in front of him, traveling across borders throughout Africa with different groups until he ended up in Capetown, South Africa, in his adult life.
Performances were marvelous across the board. While the singing and dancing were uplifting, the play needs cutting so as not to bludgeon the audience. We saw refugees treated like refuse, beaten, killed, driven away. Terrifying. The pounding of the repeated indignities visited on the main character and his family and friends, while the audience was shocked and appalled, that same pattern, over and over, does beat the audience into shutting down. The unvarying story of misery: attack, move on, find clan, family, even a wife, lose them: In a life, this is all devastating. An audience (at least an American audience) will turn off with the repetition. All in all, an exciting and memorable piece of work.
The last February theatre outing was to BAM for
Escaped Alone by Caryl Churchill, from London’s Royal Court Theatre, well directed by James McDonald. Odd, interesting, often funny, almost Pinteresque. Beckettesque? Excellent performances by Linda Bassett, Deborah Findlay, Kika Markham, June Watson. It appears to be, perhaps, the end of the world, and four women sit in a back garden talking about ordinary things, ordinary life, and some unusual bits as well. This idyllic scene is interrupted by Ms. Basset’s character, Mrs. Jarrett, stepping to one side as the curtain falls to show garish screens of horror. She tells stories about the first days, the third weeks, how humanity survives whatever it is we’ve done to ourselves. Then she’s back in the garden. Which is the real world?
This pattern repeats -- garden, chat, the horrors of the after....apocalypse? WWIII? garden chat, horrors, garden chat....Four women on a nice summer afternoon. Maybe.
Escaped Alone is hilarious, frightening, and more than worth your time if it shows up at a theatre near you.
March was busy, starting with
Joan of Arc: Into the Fire at the Public Theater. This was, at best, disappointing. Its 95 minutes felt like more than 2 hours. The absurdity of a teenage girl with religious mania singing about “freedom” in the 15th century started the evening off badly. The good news is that the woman who played Joan was fabulous: Jo Lampert. See her, hear her do anything. David Byrne’s music was uninspired and his lyrics were simplistic and puerile. Effects were great. They burned her at the stake. Onstage. Unfortunately, this extraordinary visual was destroyed because the play wasn’t over. There was one more tedious scene, which took place 24 years after Joan’s death when her mother (played by Mare Winningham) goes to the cardinals and bishops to plead for Joan to be retried and found innocent so she can go to heaven where she belongs. Dull final scene with a remarkably dull song with eight guys looking at her dumbly. Dreadful.
Just remember the name Jo Lampert.
Latin History for Morons at the Public was pointless. Even its 90 minutes were too long.
A gift of a production of The Skin of Our Teeth, written by Thornton Wilder in 1942, at Theatre for a New Audience was delightful and imaginative. Director Arin Arbus captured the madness in the wild crazy funny evening at the Polonsky Shakespeare Center, imaginatively enlivened by excellent music. Mary Wiseman was a marvelous Sabina. A great time was had by all.
One flaw by TFANA of which I must disapprove – something my friend experienced recently at the Guthrie – the program listed performers NOT in order of appearance but in alphabetical order by their last names. Not helpful to a curious audience member and not respectful to the performers and musicians.
The Play That Goes Wrong played at the Lyceum. It is hilarious, ridiculous, tight, well-staged (though marred by some visibility problems due to the transfer of venue from its original London home). The Play That Goes Wrong written so well by Henry Lewis, Henry Shields, and Jonathan Sayer that I could not believe it was written at all, was directed by Mark Bells and is about set pieces breaking, actors doing or not doing things at the wrong times in the wrong places, and tech crew interacting with the audience. Every actor’s nightmare (except being nude) came alive in wakefulness. I laughed hard for the whole play. Some people thought it was a poor man’s version of Noises Off, but they must have been grumpy at the time. Just laugh.
Linda by Penelope Skinner at the Manhattan Theatre Club at City Center, directed by Lynne Meadow. Set in the beauty industry, it follows the disappointment of a woman who fought for female equality in her career, sacrificing family relationships without even noticing, only to find after two decades that nothing changed. Interesting and depressing. Wonderful performance by Janie Dee as Linda, and the entire cast. A thought-provoking evening.
Sweat by Lynn Nottage moved from the Public Theatre to Studio 54 where I saw it after it had won the Pulitzer Prize. The play was exciting, poignant, topical. Sweat has a chuckle or two because human beings are funny, but it is depressing as all hell. Brilliantly acted, it is Theatre that Holds a Mirror Up to Society and is consequently infuriating, sad, and damn good.
The play’s action starts in 2008 and goes back to 2000 so we know how everyone got here. It’s a slow build. The actual, single “incident” that changed everybody’s lives happens more than halfway through Act 2. An incident of some sort has been expected since the beginning of the first act. It raises far more questions than it answers because life is not simple with heroes and villains, black and white, or linear action. The play is riveting, important, stimulating, and so well acted that I was really angry and almost shouted back on occasion. Very tight cast and excellent direction by Kate Whoriskey.
Pacific Overtures @ Classic Stage Company was wonderful. Never having seen the original, I was not bothered by the differences — the traditional all-male cast was augmented by one woman, and the play was edited to run 90 minutes with no intermission. Soaring voices told a fascinating, little known story. The narrator sounded just like George Takei, and then there he was, onstage! That was oddly thrilling. Very glad to have experienced this play live, and now I understand and love the songs much better than I had just listening to a Sondheim album.
Well, that’s quite enough after months of nothing. Next week: May, June and July. Promise.
Signing off to write the next batch….
Molly Matera, 13 August 2017