The Real Thing

Tom Stoppard is certainly on a roll.  He, like his compadre Terrence McNally, has two plays running concurrently, in this case, both at the Roundabout Theatre Company.  His latest installment at American Airlines Theatre, on Broadway, is The Real Thing.

This one is heady.  Make no mistake.  Mr. Stoppard is a linguist and writes very, very smart dialogue.  In my brief reading before the show I discovered that this particular show may be a bit autobiographical too.

Henry (Ewan McGregor) an erudite playwright (some might call a snob although his wife uses another similar British slang word), as is Mr. Stoppard.  This play is quite the intellectual study of love, marriage, commitment, and relationships.  He's first married to Charlotte (Cynthia Nixon), but quickly changes gears and falls in love and marries Annie (Maggie Gyllenhaal).  Josh Hamilton plays Max, an actor and first husband of Annie. A tangled web indeed.

We get tangled up in Henry's relationship, views on commitment and love and how those may differ from both Charlotte (his first wife) and Annie (his second wife).  What is jealousy?  Does one person's commitment equate to how the other person sees it?   Can we really just love one person in life?  These and dozens of other lofty questions are batted around during the play - which by the way features the "play within a play" format at the opening with quite a satisfying effect.

I'm pretty sure Mr. Stoppard didn't originally write in the music to the original script and likely (although I can''t really be sure) it was the creation of the brilliant director, Sam Gold.   I understand there may be some additional gimmicks with the music, the cast, and a digital display in the theatre.  There's always a gimmick these days.

Smart, heady, intelligent - this play aims high and delivers on it's promises with a remarkably competent and dazzling cast along with the choices of music both during the show and between the scene change breaks.

An interesting trivia note, Ms Nixon was featured in the original production when she was a mere teenager (as the daughter) and now returns triumphantly as her mother.  The small world of theatre just got even more so.

Dead Accounts

Roma was right.  This play stinks.  And when I say "this play", I mean the actual script itself.  Theresa Rebeck got thrown off SMASH after the first season and someone should now officially throw her off Broadway too.  Dead Accounts amounts to nothing more than a bad sit-com that doesn't come close to cutting it on stage.  Most of the characters are way overly-exaggerated to be believed.  While perhaps a common trait in 30 minute situation comedy writing, it's not at all a good idea for a 2 hour stage play charging upwards of $100 per seat.

What about the acting, you might ask?  Well, that was mixed but decent.  Norbert Leo Butz, plays his sweet spot to the nines - a hyperactive, neurotic, mess.  Katie Holmes turns in a decent performance despite the trite material which has her vacillating between dumb and kind to just plain dumb. Jane Houdyshell shines in the role of dowdy and typical aging mid-western mother with limited brain capacity for independent thought and therefore fixated on God.  Josh Hamilton (Phil) had nothing more than a cameo-type role (think guest star on a SNL skit) and Judy Greer turns in what I would consider the worst performance of the evening.  The buildup to her character's arrival was substantial and the meek, baby-talking, inappropriately innocent girl that showed up was disappointing to say the least.

The New Yorker "observations" penned by Ms. Rebeck were marginally entertaining but like everything else, unnecessarily over-the-top.  The out-of-towners seemed to get most (but not all) of the jabs. And when it came to Ms. Holmes' scene stealing melt-down about the greed of banks, the audience clearly showed their mid-western ignorance.  (And by 'audience' I mean the gaggle of noisy out-of-town tourists straight off the big white bus who filled the last two rows of the mezzanine (read, cheapest seats) just because Katie Holmes was on the marquis while there were over 12 empty rows of seats  in front of them).  

Roma was right - and the word is out.  Dead Accounts is indeed dead.   Dead on Arrival.

The Cherry Orchard

I can't say I'm a huge fan of "the classics".  But occasionally, I do know it's good to see some of them to expand one's horizons.  And there's one theatre, aptly named, in town that I always head to for my fix - Classic Stage Company.   The last play in their Anton Chekhov cycle (and Chekhov's final play) is The Cherry Orchard.

I did a little reading on Chekhov.  I'm pretty sure most of what I didn't like was his play itself.  Perhaps a bit of it was the mood and artistic interpretation that director, Andrei Belgrader, took too.  Were those 4th wall breaches in the script?  Did we need a dog?  Did someone really need to give up his seat for the old chambermaid?  Well, without much proof (and no desire to go read the script from cover to cover for stage directions), i'll just lay it in equal parts on the author and the director.

What I can be sure of is that the work is epic, poetic, and contains all sorts of oddly comedic characters that are supposed to represent the 19th Century Russian society.  The play is a comedy, but borders on farce.  It's really what today we would call a socio-political satire.  In this case, falling importance and wealth of Russian aristocracy, the freeing of and rise of the peasant class, land ownership, wealth distribution, and the blurring of the lines of class and position in society.  While the play itself seemed oddly formal or maybe a bit stilted (perhaps that is my un-cultured ear), that was completely offset by several fine performances throughout.

The dashing and commanding John Turturro and the beautifully effervescent Diane Wiest held court on the pizza-pie shaped, appropriately stained white canvas stage the entire evening.  The absolutely adorable and boyish Michael Urie made us laugh at his travails, and, not one but, two Waterston sisters took to this stage - Elisabeth as a bold attention seeking chambermaid and Katherine as the dutiful daughter.  Daniel Davis wore a cream suit suit to complement his blazing white hair and Roberta Maxwell deadpanned her absurd lines to much delight.  Josh Hamilton made being a lifetime student look easy and Alvin Epstein charmed us with his elderly gentleman humor.

A truly fine ensemble cast all around and a classic and sophisticated set as I have come to expect from CSC time and time again.  After watching it, discussing it afterwards with my play-going-friend, and now writing this, I can say for sure that I'm still not a classics-lover.  But what I can also say is that when a great ensemble cast such as this is gathered - sometimes the works come to life and resonate in ways you didn't expect.   I won't run out and buy the complete anthology of Anton Chekhov any time soon, but I would encourage you to run down to CSC and get a ticket to see this fine production if you're so inclined.

The Coast of Utopia - Salvage (Part III)

After $300, 9 hours, and cramped legs in those perennially undersized seats at the Vivian Beaumont - all Tom Stoppard left us with is:

"A storm is coming"

Are you kidding me? A few great performances (Jennifer Ehle, you and Brian O'Byrne were GREAT!) from the large cast were nothing compared to the sheer boredom of having to sit and muddle thru endless ramblings of the playwright. This, of course, is not the actors' fault. Kudos to the fine cast.

Lincoln Center Theater - all your 87 year old patrons are all going to die soon. That storm just might wipe you out at this rate. Step up your game!

The Coast of Utopia - Shipwrecked

Quite a difference from the first (Nov 2006) installment! More engaging. Thicker plot. Less Boring. While Ethan Hawke dominated the first installment (Voyage), this time Brian F. O'Byrne took charge(Shipwreck).

Russian history seems to make just a little more sense now. Even after spending $300 on the whole saga, I'm still no expert on philosophy and intellectualism in Europe in the 1800's.

The Coast of Utopia - Voyage

It's big. It's Complicated. Russian history on broadway. Only Tom Stoppard could pull this off. 'Tis an agressive production of Lincoln Center Theater. Voyage is part 1 of 3 parts. 3 hours each - oh my. Packed with stars, but will it pull the audience in? I doubt it will. Theater afficianados, yes, but beyond that, i doubt. There are plenty of stand-out performances, but overall, too complex for this theater-goer.

 The verdict is still out, but I hold little hope that it will catch much more of my attention.

Proof