Othello

It's a hoity-toity theatre event.  The East Village.  New York Theatre Workshop.  Shakespeare reimagined.  Sam Gold directed.  Stars.  The audience physically contained in a plywood encased barracks crafted in what once was the theatre. Stark lighting.  Extremely uncomfortable wooden seating - especially for a daunting 3+ hour runtime.  A trend that is much like the "actors are musicians on stage the whole time" we experienced a few years back.

By any measure, this one is a limousine liberal's wet dream.  And if you really like Shakespeare, it is unclear if you will even appreciate this production.  I can only say this from reading reviews and blogs by people who both love and revere the man.   I, for one, do not like Shakespeare much.  At intermission I left.  There was no love lost - just 90 minutes of my life.

Clearly this is a serious work.  Clearly Shakespeare is powerful stuff.  Much of that was lost on me.  I was bored to tears.  Nobody talks like this.  Nobody speaks in research paper paragraph monologues. Throw in Daniel Craig (Lago) and David Oyelowo (Othello).  They sold out the run before they even spoke a word earlier this season.  The acting I saw was absolutely top notch.  Creatively, the juxtaposition of the language with the plywood barracks and modern military outfits and street clothes was mostly jarring.  This is not your grandfather's classic Shakespeare.  Most of those who were interested by just hearing about it will love it. I doubt this will turn any undecided voters into Shakespeare lovers.

Save your ass.  Save your evening.  Read about it in the Arts & Leisure section of the NY Times.

The Flick

What a dichotomy of emotions this play elicited.  Superb acting and what I suspect is superb direction in what just might be the most self-indulgent, childish, selfish play I've ever paid money to see.

So poorly written and conceived is The Flick that it was a unanimous decision of my two other stalwart heater-going friends (and many others) to leave after the painfully show and entirely uneventful 1h:40m first act (with another 1h yet to go in act two).

Matthew Maher (Sam), Aaron Clifton Moten (Avery), and Louisa Krasuse (Rose) played their characters with aplomb.  In fact, some of their acting was some of the best I've seen.  The problem here is not the acting - it's the utterly meaningless, immature, and senseless writing.  More specifically the pace and the repeated tone of hesitation and the pauses so pregnant an emergency c-section would normally be called for.   The playwright, Annie Baker, should not have been allowed within 1000 feet of a stage with even a draft of this one.  

As bad as the writing was, the concept of turning the stage into a movie theatre complete with a working film projector was brilliant.  Such a shame the high-brow concept was abused in parallel to the low-brow dialogue.  The opening scene, as I look back, set the tone for the entire play - a movie playing back to the audience in the projector with an orchestral score.  It went on... and on.... and on.... (queue much nervous laughter and the beginning of a never-ending sense of "get on with it already").

I get her point (which could have been made in about 27 minutes) and I honestly have absolutely no care or desire to know what became of her characters (even the one we hadn't yet met) in act 2.  It was that bad.

The School for Lies

One thing that is not a lie is that this show is one of the best off-Broadway productions that I have seen in a very long time.   I'm not very high-brow, so I went in thinking Moliere + The Misanthrope = big snooze-fest.   Surprisingly, I came out energized, entertained, engaged, and ecstatic!  A cast of wall-flowers this was not.  Strong, confident, talented, and bold are all adjectives that can only start to describe this cast.  David Ives has penned a modern, witty, and extremely intelligent take based on this old gem and Walter Bobbie has taken the directorial reigns with panache and style like no other could.

The ensemble cast lead by the stunningly beautiful daughter of Merryl Streep,  Mamie Gummer (Celimene/Ivory Gown) and dashingly handsome Hamish Linklater (Frank/Black Frock) incessantly worked the meanings, double entendre, and sheer comedy out of every (very) poetic line.  Hoon Lee (Philante/Maroon Frock), Frank Harts (Clitander/Purple Frock), Rick Holmes (Oronte/Yellow Frock), and Matthew Maher (Acaste/Green Frock) charm the pants off you, each in his own endearing, imperfect way.  Jenn Gambatese (Elainte/Blue Gown) and Allison Frasier (Arsinoe/Purple Gown) each tussle with Ms. Gummer for the affections of her men men and the chance to unseat her as queen of the castle.  And last, but certainly not least, Steven Boyer (Dubois/Basque/Brown Frocks) provided regular intervals of a little Shakespearian humor.  (I prefer that to Monty Python, but truth be told, it could fit).  Canapé anyone?.  Truth be told, the language is lofty, but if you follow the humor and witty repartee, the rhymed couplets (or is it iambic pentameter?) start to complete themselves in your head just as they roll off the tongues of the talented actors on stage.   I had a little trouble with the very Elizabethan names of the characters but if you focus on the boldly colored and elegantly designed costume for each character, you'll do just fine.

Speaking of a stage - the elegant costumes were made only more so by the simple, clean ivory-colored stage floor and walls.  Pure white lighting served to highlight the fine detail on the masterful costumes and left your focus on the lofty comedic performances.

I bring this to you not as gossip.  I, too, am merely reporting.