Let me Entertain You, Again

A delightful evening in the company of my theatre-loving friend, Adam.  What was equally lovely was the thoughtful and tender memoir performed by Lane Bradbury - whom I knew nothing about, but was thoroughly entertained by.

Lane was the original Dainty June in Gypsy, opposite the indomitable Ethel Merman (hence the show's title).  Lane performed on Broadway for a spell, migrated to the West in Hollywood, but has now returned to her roots on stage for this one (well, two) woman show documenting her theatrical life.

Plenty of stories, plenty of dance, song, and smiles accompany this evening and she's such an inspiration - having broken her leg and hip just a few month's ago and yet still performing this show.  Special kudos to her daughter, Elkin (who was not revealed to be her daughter till the end) for the shadow/younger Lane's song and dance routine.

Look for this show to gel some more during its development and roll into a theatre near you soon!

Pippin

Pippn emerges fresh and refreshed after a long sleep.  Director, Diane Paulus, has breathed some new life into a mid-70's classic.  It's a modern mix of part Cirque du Soleil, part Spamalot, part Edwin Drood all with a Fosse flair!  Yet it still retains its original soul and message.

Patina Miller (Leading Player) is indeed outstanding in this dazzling role of the narrator of sorts.  Charlotte d'Amboise (Fastrada) surprises with her fantastic dance routine.  Andrea Martin (Berthe) all but steals the show in her rousing and high-flying "No Time at All" number in Act I.  Terrance Mann (Charles) and Eric Altemus (Lewis) provide much of the Spamalot like comedy with the timing and facial expressions of true pros.  Last but not least, Matthew James Thomas (Pippin) is cute, sexy, and adorable all rolled up in one.

The ensemble is composed of cirque-like acrobats which only adds to the magical aspect of the show.  They round out the scenes adding just the right amount of fantasy and excitement.

The stars in this 2013 Tony award winning show may come and go but the magic and the message will remain with you forever!

Nobody Loves You

Reality TV meets Broadway... sort of.  Itmar Moses jumps into the reality TV cesspool by penning a funny, yet predictable, rom-com now playing over at Second Stage.

Heath Calvert (Byron) deadpans every line and hits the target each time as the TV series host.  Leslie Kritzer (Nina) nails the over-the-top, sun glass-wearing producer.  Rory O'Malley plays, yet again, a delicious gay character, (Evan), who steals the show.  Leads Bryan Fenkhart (Jeff) and Aleque Reid (Jenny) give top notch performances.

Now, the show won't win any Pulitzer prizes or OBies, but it's perfect for a little guilty theatre pleasure for the summer.  Just like Big Brother, go see what's on the cameras over on West 43rd Street.  I just wish the camera man got credited in the playbill!

The Assembled Parties

A top notch cast.  And Judith Light still all but stole the show.  Set over 20 years, this family drama reveals the good, the bad, and the ugly of a Jewish family who celebrates Christmas.

A tad bit long, but nonetheless thoroughly enjoyable, the parties reveal themselves bit by bit, usually through laughter and familial jabs.  Jessica Hecht leads the family as its sultry, sophisticated patriarch with aplomb.  Mark Blum and Jonathan Walker aptly embody the family secrets.

Act 1 takes place in 1980 and Act 2 takes place 20 years later in the same 14 room apartment on the Upper West Side.  A lot has changed in 20 years but still again, some things remain the same.

When the parties assemble for the holidays, nobody knows for sure what will happen, except to say, a great meal will undoubtedly be served an a vodka will be poured.

Rentboy

A delicious romp way downtown on the east side at the Richmond Shepard Theatre (huh?  where?) - yes the former Vineyard theatre space, i presume - on East 26th almost in the river!

Let's all be clear - Broadway-bound this show is not.  A delightful, naughty, and entertaining tuner, indeed it is.  Composer Andrew Sargent (a whole lotta delicious item all by himself off-stage) and the amazingly vivacious David Leddick (book, lyrics, and MC/star of the show) take full charge of the melodies along with a charming, if slightly campy (how could it not be?!) plot.

Of course all the boys are cute.  Duh.  But there's cleverly something for everyone - hot twink (Peter Krug), ripped and hung (Randall Holloway), sexy hairy Latino (Mario Castro), Israeli stud (Michael Argento), and the stand-out performer who stole the entire show - fuzzy, beefy shaved headed daddy with a flawless, classically trained operatic voice (Andrew Ryan Rix).  

Playing for just this week - grab a ticket.  grab a cab. and grab some ass down on the east side.  This one won't last here long.  But I'm sure we'll see it in pTown or some other fun gay summer spot!

The Last Five Years

A powerhouse.  Packs a punch.  Profound.  These are some of the words used to describe Jason Robert Brown's musical tour de force, The Last Five Years.

Jamie and Cathy both sing the tale of their relationship - but there's a twist.  Jamie tells it from beginning to end.  Cathy tells it from the end to the beginning.   But wait, there's another twist.  While the two performers both grace the stage together, they are essentially alone -never looking at nor speaking to each other.    Isolated.  Lonely.  In love.  Out of Love.  

It is only once at the confluence of their story in the exact middle of the story when they get married in Central Park, that they unite and proclaim their love to each other in song as they exchange vows.  And as quickly as it happens, they continue on their journeys and the story proceeds (and/or regress as it were).

Adam Kantor (Jamie) is pure delight - boyishly handsome, devilishly talented.  Betsy Wolfe (Cathy) blows the roof off the joint multiple times (and that's tough because this theater was formerly a bank!).

Two actors.  One story.  Plenty of potent song.  A mere 90 minutes on-stage.  A lifetime in your heart.

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.

Belleville

Not a lot of 'happy' going on in this play.  Amy Herzog, a fresh, young playwright takes us on a tour of two slightly 'off' individuals currently living in Paris.  Why are they there?  What exactly is wrong with Abby?  Do we really know who Zach is?

These and many more questions are asked, explored, and answered as the evenly paced 1:40 minute play progresses from pot smoking friends to scrubbing the blood off the floor.  Maria Dizzia (Abby) and Greg Keller (Zach) weave their tale of mystery and madness with aplomb.  Actors playing crazy fits them well.

Aptly directed by Anne Kaufmann, Belleville offers intrigue, mystery, madness and a fair share of sadness.  As I left the theatre, I couldn't stop thinking about who loved who more and who loved who more?  I have my answer.  What's yours?

Ann

"Tough as nails, Funny as hell."   That just about sums it all up.  Ann, a touching, heart-felt one-woman memoir of a classy and brassy southern belle makes it debut this spring at the Vivian Beaumont Theater at Lincoln Center.

Written and performed by Holland Taylor, the show, as you would expect, takes you on a tour of life of the grande-damme of Texas and National politics, Ann Richards.  Ms. Taylor completely embodies the former Texas governor - and on more than one occasion you find yourself blinking twice - just to remind yourself that there's an actress on the stage - not Ms. Richards herself.  Ms. Taylor nails the white hair and the drawl, but more importantly her swagger, the way Ms. Richards awkwardly placed her one hand behind her back when speaking, and of course the lipstick, the pucker and the delivery of the zingers - always with love.

Done in two acts, Ms. Taylor, who likely needed little direction by Benjamin Endsley Klein, effortlessly begins the show with a college graduation address, transitions to the tale of her upbringing, her rise in local politics to her eventual coronation as the *second* woman governor of Texas.  (You'll find out about the first woman too).

The voice of her assistant is that of Julie White.  And you may not realize it when you are in the theatre but Ms. White is not present.  The entire track is recorded which makes you stop and think about how comfortable and well rehearsed Ms. Taylor must be in her role.  To hold an entire act's telephone conversations with a recorded track takes a whole lot a' chutzpah!

We see Ms. Richards all the way to her death in what turns out to be an brilliant stroke of theatrical genius leaving everyone to exit the theatre with a whole lot of good advice and and a warm heart too.

Really Really

Paul Downs Colaizzo takes a dull pencil-to-paper with his new work, Really Really.   New take on an old issue?  Rape.   But as we come to learn, there are always three or four sides to every coin.  Perhaps it wasn't really rape.  Circumstances really do matter.

Set deep in the me generation's barely post-college genre, we get a splash of several issues du jour - lazy rich kids, gold-digging other-side-of-the-trackers, privileged kids who are damaged in some way we just can't notice at first, alcohol, sex, sexual politics and more.

The trouble with this one is that it's got that "I've seen it on Lifetime (Television for Women) about 17 years ago.  It's like a visit to Doing time on Maple Drive - the Next Generation.   Don't get me wrong, there's plenty of skin and muscles on these boys to keep even a monkey's eyes glued to the stage for hours.  


David Hull (aptly WASP-ily named, Cooper) and Matt Lauria (aptly WASP-ily named, Davis) provide plenty of jaw dropping eye-candy (too bad it wasn't just a smidge hotter in the theatre, the sweat glistening on them would have been glorious).  Evan Jonigkeit (also aptly simply named Jimmy) while plenty of eye-candy himself, provides a bit of contrast in Jimmy's looks, brains, and upbringing.  Zosia Mamet (Leigh) takes center stage as she weaves her web along with her sister, Haley (Aleque Reid).  And Kobi Libii (Johnson) weaves his geeky, smart, and nervously endearing self into your heart along the way.  Lauren Culpepper (Grace)  provides that self-deprecating comedy of her character that lightens the load several times.

I think it was the nature of the subject-matter, not necessarily the actors, that made this feel a bit amateurish.  The actors all seemed quite rehearsed and well-directed (and yes, easy on the eyes).  In the end, the story was a bit trite - with a new twist that just couldn't overcome the feeling of a weekend snowed in watching reruns on cable TV.

Water by the Spoonful

A play about addiction, redemption, hope, and family.  It's a Pulitzer prize winning work by Quiara Alegria Hudes that reminds us of the absolute fragility of sobriety.

The second in a trilogy, it continues the exploration of Elliott (Armando Riesco), his family, and his personal demons.  Liza Colon-Zayas holds court as Odessa - with all her flaws and weaknesses laid bare on the stage in a triumphant performance.  The ever-present on-line chat room community of Chutes and Ladders (Frankie Faison) and Orangutn (Sue Jean Kim) captivate and, thru some sharp audio-visual assistance, are able to deliver an on-stage performance of the otherwise invisible.  Fountainhead (Bill Heck) bottles the anger and frustration and simmers with rage and self hatred with aplomb.  

The title of the play, you will learn, has to do with the circumstances of one of the characters' childhood experiences.  Only then will you truly understand the significance.

The Great God Pan

Amy Herzog, last dazzled us with 4000 Miles at Lincoln Center Theater.  Once again, in a magical and emotional journey into memory, identity, and truth, Ms. Herzog assisted by a fine cast and delicate direction does not fail to impress.

Jamie (Jeremy Strong) is a seemingly normal young Brooklynite with a girlfriend (Sarah Goldberg) and family unremarkable to the naked eye.   But - curtain up - in walks Frank (Keith Nobbs), his childhood friend, and modern day messed up type who is back after 25 years to tell Jamie he's going to file charges against his father for molesting him.  Why is Frank telling this to Jamie?  Because allegedly Jamie was one of Frank's father's victims too.  Or so says Frank.

Slowly we realize that Jamie has no real memories of his childhood.  And perhaps, we being to ponder, this is the reason.   Jamie engages his mother  (Becky Ann Baker) and she's curt and uncharacteristically bothered by it (an odd reaction for a social worker, he points out).  His father (Peter Friedman) adds to the fire by telling Jamie about some early family and neighborhood shuffling.  His girlfriend, who through observation and innuendo also has many of her own set of "issues",  has her own take on the subject.   Jamie struggles with his lack of memory and visits his old nanny/babysitter (Joyce Van Patten) who, in her tender and forgetful old age adds even more questions than answers to the memories.

Is Frank who he seems?   Will Jamie ever remember what he needs to know?   Who is the Great God Pan and how will this all conclude?   Stop on over to Playwrights Horizons to find out.  It's well worth the price of admission to see these fine actors execute Ms. Herzog's emotional play under such fine direction.

Grace

The proverbial gun is not so proverbial in this 90-minute stinger over at the Cort Theater.  The play opens at the literal and figurative end - loaded gun included.   We're instantly transported back in time and space as we revisit how we got here and what brought us to this exact moment.

Performances were hauntingly solid.  The pace is deliberate.  The intensity is ever-present.  Steve (Paul Rudd) and Sara (Kate Arrington) have relocated to Florida from Minnesota on a semi-religious, semi-financial journey to built a new faith-based motel chain (think - "Where would Jesus Stay?").  Their neighbor, Sam, (Michael Shannon) has experienced a tragic accident and loss.  Interloper and exterminator for the apartment building, Karl, (Ed Asner) brings both comic relief as well as some deeply painful emotion to the story.

The stew, as you already know, is not going to work out very well for all involved.  What playwright Craig Wright intends to impart in this powerhouse of a play are the questions of God, grace, forgiveness, and purpose, what a messy life we lead, and how one person's redemption and happiness may ultimately be at the expense of another.

Adding to the chilling intensity of the deceptively simple "trashy Florida rattan" furniture was Beowulf Boritt's barely noticeable rotation of the stage floor and entire set itself - too slow to see it actively moving (think, watching a plant grow), but when focused on a particular scene dialogue you blink and realize that everyone ends up in entirely different orientation.  Add to that, Darron L West's incessant whine of tropical insects and biting scene change static buzz, you are never given the opportunity to forget that nothing good lies ahead.

If you're uncomfortable around guns, especially given the recent shootings in CT, you may think twice before attending this particular show.  In any other Broadway season it would just be a footnote.  Many leaving the theater felt it was an uncomfortably poignant and painful reminder of the potential and inevitable carnage guns can bring.

Chaplin

Roma, once again, was right!  Rob McClure is the shining centerpiece of this charming and delightful new bio-musical by Christopher Curtis & Thomas Meehan.  Chaplin is an audacious look at the entire life of Charlie Chaplin, a.k.a. the Tramp, from his birth in the London streets to his meteoric rise to fame in America in silent pictures, to his controversial political ideas during the Red scare in the '50s all the way up to his triumphant return to America in 1972  - filled with the untold tales of his many private sorrows and joys in addition to the many public achievements and scandals we already knew.

The entire score is lush, playful, and engaging.  But what captured my eye and earned my praise from the first moment to the last was the degree to which Beowulf Boritt's ingenious sets, Amy Clark and Martin Paklediaz's pastiche of vintage costumes, and Ken Billington's brilliant lighting design completely and thoroughly captured the monochromatic emotion and feel that the entire black and white era evokes in our memories.

Rob McClure, already crowned the break-out triple-threat star of the season, most assuredly captured Chaplin with great care and aplomb in a fairly demanding role both physically and vocally.  His swan song 'Where are All the People?'  is undoubtedly the icing on the proverbial cake of the show to which Mr. McClure decisively and deservingly earned that rare event, a standing ovation, mid-show.   Stand-out cast members include Jenn Collela playing the well dressed, down-and-dirty Hollywood gossip columnist and radio show host, Hedda Hopper including a fine interpretation of the lyrical lilt to her unique voice and Wayne Alan Wilcox, playing Charlie's rock-solid and steadfast brother Sydney Chaplin.

The show has already announced a national and international tour starting in 2014 despite posting an early closing on Broadway January 6, 2013 - largely due to some mixed reviews compounded by the inability to overcome a box office slump during Hurricane Sandy.

If you can, RUN, DON'T WALK to catch this one before it quietly takes off on it's world tour.

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 Mystery of Edwin Drood

OK, take a deep breath.  Ready?  This one is a mouthful.  A delightful, delicious, and audaciously entertaining mouthful.

Charles Dickens started a novel and died before it was finished.  Rupert Holmes (Book, Music, and Lyrics) thought it would be clever to write a musical that offered a cast - playing actors - who were playing actors - in a  musical where the audience would vote on the outcome of Dickens' novel in an interactive, "first-ever" theatrical experience.  Got all that?   Don't worry it's not all that complicated.  It's actually quite fun.

OK, so each of the actors plays and actor playing an actor.  For example, the stalwart, Jim Norton, plays the Chairman of the theatre company and then by proxy, Mr. William Cartwright in the musical.  Will Chase plays Mr. Clive Paget playing John Jasper in the musical.   And I could go on and on and on... This cast is one of those endless pools of talent both young and old - Stephanie J. Block, Jessie Mueller, Andy Karl, and living legend, Chita Rivera - just to start things off.

It's an entertaining, interactive, and fun Roundabout Theater Company production over at Studio 54.  Since the cast is intentionally interacting with the audience as their actor-characters, the joviality and camaraderie shines through and brings joy and delight - literally out into the audience and up in the mezzanine.  And at the end of act 2, you'll vote not only on who you think killed Edwin Drood, but a mash-up of other outcomes as well.

Well, I can't really tell you the ending.  While I haven't studied the book, i suspect there are a multitude of endings possible and ever more fun to be had rehearsing them all!

A Civil War Christmas

Paula Vogel has penned a historical perspective on an age-old tradition - Christmas.  Her version is a dramatic triptych on the holiday which takes place during the civil war.  Each of the 3 main plot perspectives share equally in the joy and sadness of the historical holiday - smack in the middle of the civil war - Stories from the North, the South, and the always steady Abe and emotionally unstable Mary Lincoln centrally located in the White house.

It's not quite a musical but more of a play with music - but less-so a play and more story-telling theatrical experience. The music was all Christmas carols cleverly placed throughout the scenes.  All the fine actors in full regalia and costumes played multiple characters with little-to-no scenery - merely a few props and chairs upon which the fine actors created an entire landscape and mood.  

Of all the extremely talented actors, the one stand-out performer was Jonathan-David (yes, i correctly hyphenated his "name") as Ely Parker, Silver, Frederick Wormley, Moses Levy and others.  Clearly a trained dancer, a fine improv actor, and vocally impressive.  A stalwart and stubborn Mary Lincoln was played with Aplomb by Alice Ripley.

Having already seen Lincoln (Daniel Day Lewis) on the big screen just the weekend before and seeing this show just before Christmas put me in just the right mood.  I doubt this one would go over very well in August, but certainly a heart-warming, entertaining history-lesson on the small stage down at the New York Theatre Workshop on East 4th.

The Whale

A brutally honest, raw, and sad tale told by Samuel D. Hunter over on 42nd Street at Playwrights Horizons.  What do you get when you combine a morbidly obese man, an estranged daughter, a deeply guarded secret, a young Mormon boy, and a mysteriously  connected lady-friend?    That's a lot to be simmering just below the surface.  Under Davis McCallum's direction, The Whale slowly simmers, occasionally bubbles and eventually erupts into a full boil just as the curtain falls.

Charlie (Shuler Hensley), literally inflated in a humongous fat-suit, does a shockingly realistic job at portraying a 600 pound man on the verge of a "natural" death due to his weight.  In his final days, he wishes to reconcile with his estranged wife and daughter he last saw when she was a baby.  Why has he grown to this size?  What has driven his eating?  Enter stage left, Liz (Rebecca Henderson).  She's his life-line, a friend with an attachment we only come to know later after we meet Elder Thomas (Cory Michael Smith), a young Mormon missionary who eventually crosses paths with Charlie's young,  angry, and introverted daughter, Ellie (Reyna De Courcy) and her mother, Mary (Tasha Lawrence).

As the tale wrapped in allegorical references to Moby Dick unfolds, the proverbial plot thickens and the reasons and root causes we have all been waiting for begin to unfold.  Jane Cox (lighting) and Fritz Patton (sound design) deserve a shout-out for the excellent mood-heightening effects of the belly of the whale.

If There Is I Haven't Found It Yet

Pretty much a 'Debbie Downer' over at Roundabout's Laura Pels.  I spent a lot of time trying to figure out who was related to whom and why we were all here.  As the vague plot unfolds (painfully slow) details, possibly on purpose, seem to be omitted.  I am pretty sure that was Playwright, Nick Payne's intention. Indeed it added a sense of despair to an already bewildering and depressing statement presented about one family's failed attempts at... well... family.

Jake Gyllenhaal (Terry) takes a stand out lead in this otherwise lackluster production.  Brian F. O'Byrne (George) has a more minor character but clearly does his part to mire the family down.

Director, Michael Longhurst, takes a big risk by immersing the play in water - overhead, and on-stage.  I doubt Mr. Longhurst could foretell the impending storm called Sandy, but in retrospect, his staging has an eerily dual impacts.

Although the concepts were seemingly well integrated with the staging - as disturbing as throwing the set pieces in the moat when they were done with them - I left the theatre with mixed feelings - - slightly satisfied at the overall staging and presentation but mostly disappointed at the pace and sense of vague-ness.

I say slightly because at some level, this work is a visceral, raw, and powerful attempt at telling an honest, deeply disturbing, and sadly quite common state of the family today.  I'm trying not to confuse that sadness with the pace and presentation itself.  That balance can be hard to identify and recon with.  

... I haven't found it yet either.