Provenance

Lew and NJ are partners. Problem for NJ is that Lou is dead. Seems that when you've spent decades with your partner, he tends to stay around giving snarky commentary as you try to go about your business as a photographer and artist - taking an interview, talking about Lew's landscape paintings, working with Lew's daughter and an NYU student interested in cataloging Lew's work. Oh, and then there is the Gothic fiction mystery of who painted the central artwork that dominates NJ's Brooklyn brownstone.

I loved Chris Weikel's new play. He's the goofy guy who brought your the campy send-up of Dickensian novels in the critically acclaimed off-Broadway show Penny Penniworth and the fairytale A Pig's Tale. This play has the smarts and moments of humor but is more firmly planted in a romantic tale of love, acceptance, and living. The universal desire to couple and find someone who loves you and you love them, rounding up for all there faults, is front and center in this play. While there may be the thread of the painting's auteur in the script, the way love is expressed, shared, and evolves between all the characters in the play keeps this story nudging step by step into your heart. I even found myself tearing up near the ending and I'm one cynical viewer.

The reading was handled well by the four key players. Older Lew and NJ were played by James Nugent and Blake Walton respectively. Both gave animated and very enjoyable performances. At first I liked Nugent's performance better as it was more lively and flipant performance but then I realized his character got the funnier lines. Walton seemed a little stiff at first but then warmed up and read the piece very naturally. Desmond Dutcher and Timothy Babcock played younger Lew and NJ respectively. They were dressed in pants and shirts similar to their older characters and seated symmetrically from the center so the audience could connect the characters in the reading; I found this a good directorial clue for us. While the reading was fine, I sort of wanted more spark and chemistry to come through but this restraint is more likely due to the seated nature of a reading and less due to the actors' performances; perhaps I would have enjoyed their roles better with some movement. Still, I loved the main performances and it worked for me.

The end payoff isn't the unveiling of the painter, solving the mystery, but the culmination, and release, of a love that lasts a lifetime. Isn't that what we are all searching for, even if it is a romantic fairytale? Some fairytales do come true, don't they?

The Pride

Knocked my socks off good. Four actors seamlessly move between characters and two time periods pre and post out-of-the-closet eras for gays. In one setting, we have a wife and husband who are introduced to the wife's co-worker on a book. Obviously the two men share something. In the more modern setting, we have a guy struggling to stay committed to his partner as he casually seeks flings and one really strange Nazi fantasy. Back and forth the characters move, staying in the same stage setting, using movement lighting to transport the audience back and forth between the two worlds.

While this might sound disjointed and chaotic, it actually has the opposite effect after the first few shifts. The flips also serve to pause the story for dramatic effect, leaving little cliff hangers here and there. I found both stories of struggle very personal and poignant. I felt the suffering of the repressed homosexual back in the 50s not wanting to be 'different' and labeled perverse, even mentally ill. I also wanted the modern guy to get his shit together and hold onto someone who loved him. None of this would have been possible without the fabulous cast - Hugh Dancy (Adam, Journey's End), Adam James (Last Chance Harvey), Andrea Riseborough (Happy-Go-Lucky) and Ben Whishaw (Bright Star, Brideshead Revisited).

I loved the first half, the home lives and character build-ups. The second half seemed bumpier. The magazine editor's story about wanting a edgy homo-written piece for his men's magazine could have come off as a forced push to shove the politics of the time into the audience but luckily there was a personal recounting of an uncle he visited in hospital and that one moment saved an otherwise loud monologue of sorts. While some sections floundered to find meaning in the story arc, this bothered me less upon reflection because all struggles, personal, political, and social, take time and don't naturally and always move forward. There are bumps along the way and some just stop on the path, even go backwards. So some ends get tied up, others seem left hanging. Still, it was one excellent play that deserves a wider audience. The play may be focused on gay experiences but the story is universal - finding personal pride when society tries to take it away. Beautiful.

A Lie of the Mind

Sam Shepard is intense. I think his work can be rather overt and when good, very surprising and awakening. Mostly I find it heavy handed and too ambitious in its attempts to be THE next great expression of the American experience. I found that true of A Lie of the Mind. I was mainly attracted to the play given the superb cast. They did bring breath and life to the words and actions but the story just flounders in the mid-west setting and absurdest variations on rural stereotypes of Americans including the percieved love of guns, destruction, and violence.

Jake (Alessandro Nivola) is a very big guy with a very big anger management problem that resulted in the hospitalization of his wife Beth (Marin Ireland). At the start of the play, Jake is talking with his brother Frankie (Josh Hamilton) and it becomes clear that Jake believes he has killed Beth. Later we find Mike (Frank Whaley) in the hospital with his sister Beth and it is clear she is suffering severe brain damaging affects from the beating. Jake and Frankie's mother Lorraine (Karen Young) is scarily doting on her sons, particularly Jake, to the detriment and neglect of her daughter Sally (Maggie Siff). Frankie goes to Beth's parents' (Laurie Metcalf and Keith Carradine) home to find news about Beth only to be shot by her brother, Mike. Thus the wheels of slow decay begin turning.

Acts of neglect, non-cathartic tantrums, and strange physical moments of dependent servitude roll about the stage. While all the performances, with the exception of Karen Young, are fascinating and engaging with surprising compassion for their relatively nonredeemable characters, I almost wished they would break from the written word and action and show them to be more than mere puppets and tonal exaggerations of American dysfunction. Karen Young, however, just seemed shrill and annoying as Lorraine which is sad given that her character is suppose to bring redemptive, re-birthing via a fire. Instead this final act of release seems sad and pathetically drowning instead of freeing. Perhaps that was the intent, given the destructive and dying nature of Beth's home. In the end, Jake and Beth deliver a story of horrors without any new perspectives given as to this sad tale. It left me more squeamish and filmy than entertained or engaged.

The director, Ethan Hawke, was in attendance that performance and I couldn't help notice his audible laughter behind me during certain scenes. My laughter bubbled up sometimes more from an act of release at awkward moments of discomfort but I perceived Mr. Hawke's laughter was suppose to align with some sense of dark humor in the writing that I somehow missed. Now I love sick humor and laughed hysterically, almost peeing myself, during the Broadway performance of The Lieutenant of Inishmore but I know Martin McDonagh was very intentional in this approach to the play. I'm uncertain how Sam Shepard expected humor, if any, to present itself as either release or comedy in A Lie of the Mind. Thus this contributed to my unease with the work, again. Ah well, perhaps I just don't get it. I'm just not theater-smart enough to hang with such a cool playwright and director. I do love Carradine and Metcalf and would be happy to see most anything they're in.

A View From The Bridge

Shitty seat. I paid a relatively steep price just over $70 and ended up in the last row, right side section of the orchestra. Last row wouldn't be so bad if the balcony didn't hang so low, chopping off the top half of the stage. The effect is like viewing a sever letterboxed edition of the play - but it's a play ... and I can see the sets rising above my view ... but I don't get to see that during the performance. Stupid fricken ticket system. Doesn't tell you that when buying online. Luckily the action stayed planted on the stage floor but still it is annoying to have the view cutting off the full height of the brick walk-up and other Brooklyn scenes. Enough whining … onto the play.

I love Arthur Miller and somehow I've never seen this play. He is such a layered playwright, always giving more to the script and natural dialog more than is found on first read or first experience. In this tale about an Italian family living in Red Hook, Brooklyn, familiar and resonating themes of immigration, financial struggle, paternal control, sexual tension, and homophobia still play very well today as they did back in 1955. I kept thinking how this could even be re-staged and directed with only slight modifications to be in Texas or California with Mexican immigrants searching for a better life ... or practically any hard-working blue collar place where male-dominated families struggle to make a better life in a rough, tough, corrupt blue-collar world.

This staging played it safe with a traditional approach - realistic sets, strong actors, expected lighting. The two big name draws are Liev Schreiber as the controlling patriarch and Scarlett Johansson, in her Broadway debut, as his niece, Catherine. Both gave competent and strong performances with naturalistic moves and accents. The effortless Jessica Hecht was perfect as Beatrice, a bit beleaguered yet carefully and cautiously assertive. Michael Cristofer was weak as the narrative lawyer, Alfieri, seeming to stumble over lines and hovering too early in the stage right shadows during one transition thus distracting from the action. Corey Stoll and Morgan Spector played the two Italian immigrant relatives. Both were competent but Stoll seemed more balanced and subtle in him delivery, using his large frame not in a thuggish way but in a calming way, when lifting a chair or moving around the small flat. This served to make later action seem more impassioned than if he played it more muscling from the beginning.

Glad I went, sad I paid too much, frustrated at my crappy seats. It's all water under the bridge.

As You Like It

Headed out to Brooklyn to check out The Bridge Project's production of As You Like It. I tend to like this Shakespeare play mainly because it's low on gore and the women get to have a central role in driving the plot. Of course there's cross dressing and power struggles, classic Shakespeare. And I haven't seen many versions of this play so my expectations were probably high given that Sam Mendes was directing.

The set is simple and effective. I particularly like the open feel of the stage, the use of lights that come down to set the frame - boxing ring, diner table - and the trees, grasses and raised boardwalk.

The performances were all good but I really never felt any of the deliveries was exceptional. More disappointing was the very tradition and staid direction. While everything was good, nothing was great. Even the thrill of local community theater has more anticipation and tension as you wait the expect flub or set gaff. This whole piece just worked like clockwork. Guess I miss the thrill of the risk but perhaps Mr. Mendes didn't feel comfortable taking those risks ... out in Brooklyn ... when people expect a certain solid delivery.

Perhaps next time, I'll take a risk and go see an NYU production.

The Understudy

Crazy antics at the theater. Luckily the stage manager is as frenetic and crazy as the world of theater production. And Julie White is the perfect person the play the ball-of-nerves character. Her skinny frame seems to be using more calories than an Olympic athlete as she bounces around the entire theater, literally, trying to keep a rehearsal afloat, or at least moving towards progress.

Her job is to help get the understudy (Justin Kirk), ready in case the secondary lead, Jake (Mark-Paul Gosselaar), needs replacing. Turns out the understudy is the stage manager's ex-fiance who left her weeks before their wedding, no explanation or parting words, just ran. Seems he also has a strong disdain for Jake's talents thinking his action star status landed him the role.

The plot is simple so really the entertainment value is in the performances. Kirk does a great take on the line, "Get in the truck!" which we gladly see looped back later in the piece. I also like this silly dance they put together at the end - who doesn't like a dance number ending?

The writing likes to skewer the Broadway production system in many forms. The easy target is the use of the film star to headline. While I myself often wonder if this is good for theater (Jeremy Piven, Catherine Zeta Jones, Sienna Miller, Julia Roberts), I can't argue with the numbers as many of those plays and musicals keep the house filled so long as the star is there. The other details were fun and added some good measured comic relief - the stoned and never-seen lighting and set assistant, constant cell phone use, agent calls. But the problem with the play-within-a-play theme is it gets boring for most of the audience who doesn't work in this business.

Luckily my audience was filled with industry types - guy behind me was some sort of theater directors - everyone kept stopping by and the house manager asked if he was going to drop by backstage after the show. Lots of theater folks, mostly gay guys, all standing up, waving to each other, saying, "Hi", etc. The only person I recognized was Mario Cantone. The guy sitting next to me turned around to chat with his former acting teacher who was sitting with the director guy. I've never been so aware of my female hetero state. But I think the audience reaction and enjoyment helped elevate the experience to a higher level.

While personally I love Julie White and her performance was extremely engaging and tone-perfect for the character, I just kept thinking that she was too old to be romantically involved with Mark-Paul Gosselaar cast as Jake. Justin Kirk and Julie White see cast well for that relationship but I hate ot be age-ist when I say that while Mark-Paul Gosselaar is hot, hot, hot, I just couldn't see why his character would be attracted to the stage manager. Still nice to have the eye-candy and the female fantasy that us gals over 40 could be appealing to men over ten years younger.

For a light evening out, this was a fun and comedic romp. Not all Broadway plays need be pivotal or groundbreaking. I consider this piece a fun escapist ride, complete with hot men, fun staging, chaotic crazy Julie White, and dancing, of the fun of dancing. "Get in the truck!" never looked so fun ... and funny. Justin Kirk, you crack me up.

South Pacific

Shitty seat wayyyyyyy up in the left balcony. Still good music.

I'm in love with Paolo Szot. I know most go for tenors but his baritone voice is so seductive. Sure, he is a little young to place Emile de Becque but add a little gray at the temples and some facial hair to hide the lack of wrinkles and perfection! I was so glad when they cast a trained opera singer in this role. Lucky for us they found Mr. Szot.

They had a new Nelly and Lt. Cable. It is very hard to fill Kelli O'Hara but Laura Osnes does a great job with the music. Where she seems to still be getting her footing is in the acting. She seems hesitant and there isn't serious chemistry between her and Emile de Becque.

Lt. Cable was also a new cast member - sorry, forgot who. I hate to be pervy but he's no Matthew Morrison. Mr. Morrison was so unbelievably sexy as Lt. Cable and when he was shirtless, you could smell the female sweat and hear the audience sighs of delight. That is one hot body that is hard to follow ... and he could sing!

Loretta Ables Sayre still brings meat and robust flavor to her portrayal of Bloody Mary. Danny Burstein seems a little weary performing but still give a good performance if somewhat dulled from a year ago.

It's really all about the songs and music. Rodgers and Hammerstein were amazing. I remember putting on our own show for mom, dad, and other victims audience members in our Texas living room. Loved dancing around with a towel on my head singing Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair. I don't think I even understood the significance of Carefully Taught until a decade or more later. I was in love with all the songs, the feel and heat of the Pacific Islands, I wanted to steal away and live the romantic island life. Sure, I didn' get the war, the racism, all the other layers. But all that gets lost in Some Enchanted Evening when you're a kid ... with stars in your eyes, or Paolo Szot on stage ;)

Billy Elliot

Finally made it to Billy Elliot. I originally bought tickets to replace Ratime when it was announced it would close Jan.3, the weekend before our tickets. But then the rush of last minute ticket purchases for Ragtime allowed them to extend the run to the weekend my dad was coming to see it. Yeah for dad! Scramble for me. So we ended up seeing two shows today after I made a frantic call to Telecharge to explain the situation thus allowing me to change the tickets for the evening performance.

Tons of kids are here to enjoy Broadway. WOOHOO – kids in the theater! We need new blood to keep the theater and dancing alive. Lights go down, show proceeds. BOOOO – kids in the theater! Where are their manners? What about theater etiquette? Where are the parents? All I hear is the crinkling of every know plastic made to contain sugary snack. AND I keep hearing the rattling rhythmic percussion of one gall munching on the world's largest bag of M&Ms. She can't just poor them all out, she must be shaking out one at a time because this sound continues through the ENTIRE first half of the show. I kept turning around, shhusshhhhing, no effect. Where were the parents? I only saw one mother and she seemed oblivious to how the noise her daughters were making was annoying the experience for others around them. Guess the acceptable threshold of kid noise is much higher when you're an actual parent. During intermission, I even asked the girls to be try to be considerate of all the noise the wrapper make. I think it helped, or more likely they ran out of candy. While exiting the theater, I notice candy shrapnel of the greatest carnage - piles of empty M&M, Godiva, and Twizzler packaging crumpled on the floor. Noisy and litterbugs, these demon spawn. So much for the future of manners at the theater. Wow, must have lost my maternal instincts at the last witch convention.

Billy Elliot jumped the pond about a year ago and yet I still hadn't been able to get excited enough to pay full price to see it. With guests in town, that excuse went away. As a musical, it's hard to get excited about coal mining, labor disputes, and Margaret Thatcher.

Sadly I don’t recall one song from the entire musical. Sometimes Sir. Elton John can’t get it together. Oh wait, I do recall a rip-off of a Chicago tune … they even used Razzle Dazzle in the refrain! Ouch.

Trent Kowalik was the lead during our performance. He was lanky and id a very nice job, particularly in the solo moments. I found a brick wall and shadow number very good. The flying nymber was rather silly and dated, reminding me on many a bad production of Peter Pan.

Kate Hennig as the dancing teacher was phoning it in. She flubbed several lines and seemed to walk about the stage if she didn’t care; not her character no caring, she didn’t seem to care or even like the fact that she was there to entertain, to enjoy performing.

The standouts were several supporting roles. Izzy Hanson-Johnston played the upstart and annoyingly funny young girl, Debbie. She never mugged for the audience but she had great comedic timing and a spark of happiness and joy even when her character delivered apathetic or jaded lines.

Trevor Braun Michael was the friend who liked dressing up in girl’s clothes. The HUGE dancing dress number is rather stupid and forced, relying on costumes and lots of stagy tap and movement. When the dancing is more organic, focusing on the boys trying on tutus, the fun and frivolity make for good vibes throughout the aisles.

Two fun numbers meant to surprise the audience are when Grandma (Carole Shelley) and the pudgy piano player (Thommie Retter) break out in their own solos – wonderful fun and big audience pleasers.

Overall, as a musical there really isn’t much to Billy Elliot. Luckily the production redeems itself, and some of the purchase price, with dance. Even with a few stumbles and some lackluster supporting players, the movement, energy, and support from more minor characters, the evening was still a fun romp, and that’s an impressive task around a labor-busting, gay-adolescent themed musical. Break out your tutu and dance.

Ragtime

What a production. What a thrill. What an upwelling of emotion. So sad to see it close so soon.

This is my second, and last, viewing of Ragtime, the fabulous new production that played to critical praise. Unfortunately this is closing weekend. Fortunately closing weekedn was suppose to be last week; I had tickets to this week's performance with my dad and his cousin. I rushed to buy replacement tickets only to get notification a day later that they extended shows through our original ticket weekend so now I had tickets to two shows for Saturday matinee performances - ugh! Luckily I was able to switch the other tickets to the evening. The main reason Dad was coming to New York was to see Ragtime, his favorite Broadway musical, live. We were back in business. Phew! I'd been raving about the production so I'm glad all the ups and downs of "it's canceled, it's extended" resulted in him getting to see this truly magical production.

I saw it in previews and loved the staging and many of the performances. The choreography of the opening number, where the three classes start out singing their individual refrains and end up intermingles, jumbled together, was beautiful. I also love the resonating sound and power of the whole chorus singing together. I'm not sure if they gave more to this performance, the third to last they'd give, but it sounded and felt marvelously moving. The music and singing was just powerful.

And I really enjoyed the very industrial framing used to define the action. With little or no set piece movements, only props and furniture shifting here and there, the elemental steel lines served as a grid on a piece of blank paper, allowing the imagination to fill in the pieces ... of a house, a new car, an assembly hall, a seashore. The costumes definitely help in this illusion, parasols, rags, straw hats, shawls, it all added texture, romance, and realism to the time period.

The crowd was enthusiastic beyond decorum up in my section. This may had to do with the multiple rows of high schoolers right behind me. At times I didn't mind the whistling and hooting but I did mind the bag crinkling and talking during the performances. Such is life - you get the good and the bad intertwined.

So a great musical revival closes way too soon. I was lucky to catch it. Dad gave it a 10 out of 10. Therese was actually singing some of the tunes afterward, still captivated by it all. Good theater does that ... linger, before becoming a fond memory and then a recollection of being lucky to have seen and expereinced something so alive, so engaging, so good. And we were there.

A Little Night Music

In these hard economic times, Broadway turns to celebrities. Is it working? Depends if you're just interested in ticket sales or delivering quality arts.

Stephen Sondheim is a marvel. His work is both popular and complex but I'd never seen this play, probably because anything adapted from a Bergman film would bound to pale in comparison to my first love. But I decided to take a chance since this is Broadway, Sondheim added songs, and Dad was paying - thanks Dad!

The cast is likely what is pulling in the patrons. Catherine Zeta-Jones decided to make her Broadway debut in this beautiful production but I wonder if she truly felt comfortable delivering the most memorable of the songs, Send In the Clowns. She seemed to 'talk' through most of it but she did deliver the main chorus with strength. She was very good with the comedic timing and emotional aspects of the play/musical.

Angela Landsbury acted like a snobby, darkly humorous old regal lady. While she missed her lines, she just works that into her character's faulting, being an old, forgetful matriarch. People ate up her performance where I just found it cliche and standard.

The real standout, and crowd favorite, was Leigh Ann Larkin as Petra. She brought a fun and lusty thrill to her role. When she delivered "The Miller's Son", the audience was captivated. A HUGE round af applause resulted, making me wonder if Ms. Zeta-Jones realized the difference in their two song deliveries and the crowd preference.

The sets were truly magical. With the use of 'mirrored' doors/panels behind the stage center, the space transforms from parlor to country estate to dumpy apartment to birch woods. I just loved the movement, lighting, and flow of the sets and action. Bravo to an amazing result from the production and lighting crew.

Well, it was a nice evening. I'm glad to finally see it in such a form. Yes, it had its pauses, its stalled moments, but it did deliver ... a little night music ... and that is worth something.

Xie Xie and Present Laughter

Xie Xie. Yum. Finally. Tried to find this place awhile back with Gwen but no luck. Turned out it hadn't opened yet. Met J at this gem of an Asian sandwich shop. It was the perfect place pre-theater. Chef Angelo Sosa, who is a visual treat himself, has put together a fun and varied selection. The lobster roll was flavorful but a tad too sweet for a full-sized portion. Luckily I was splitting everything with J. The sweet glazed pork was good if a bit lackluster but the bun was disappointing and dry; would have preferred fresher flavors. The standout winner, and worth the trip alone, was the tilapia Chanca La Vong - fresh baguette, wonderful fish, fantastic flavors of sweet and sour. Both desserts are also standouts offering very different palate and taste sensations. For the sweet chocolate lovers, the black caramel ice cream sandwich is fantastic, it's gooey center carefully contained in a perfect amount of balancing ice cream held in form by thin and crunchy, thin, chocolate wafer cookies. Yum. The big fortune cookie comes with the yuzu lemony curd giving crunch to this heavenly sour tangy cream. More yum. Definitely a good find on 9th Ave.

Noel Coward gets a revival. In Present Laughter, an aging stage star deals with the women in his life, and one very strange male fan. All the action is staged in Garry Essendine's apartment, lavishly appointed in deco high-style. His wife, his dalliances, and his secretary all make appearances to add comedic wit to his dealings with his servants, male colleagues, and one very queer fan who likes to flit about with gusto and sometimes a teddy bear.

Victor Garber seemed a little campy but the script allows for such interpretations; "You're overacting now!" claims one of the women. I like all the strong female roles and both Harriet Harris, as his acrid secretary, and Lisa Banes, as his wife, are wonderful in their timing, delivery and inflection. They both seem to bring out all the texture in their characters and underneath it all, look like they enjoy their time on stage. Pamela Jane Gray is slightly disappointing as the femme fatale but perhaps this is due to all the buildup of her as the ravishing and seductive Joanna in the first act yet she doesn't appear until the second half; it's a hard expectation to live up to.

The most annoying character was easily Roland Maule, who is an irritating, and mauling, fan and aspiring playwright. Brook Ashmanskas plays it to the hilt. The audience may love this comic relief but I find it jarring and so silly as to be distracting and cringe-worthy. The butler Fred (James Joseph O'Neil) and housemaid (Nancy E. Carroll) added a more palatable and appropriate comic relief I appreciated more, at it really wasn't all that subtle.

Victor Garber seemed a little old for this part but it didn't harm the production or plot. Perhaps his age even added to the absurdity of his appeal to 20-something gals. When he sang, I sort of felt sorry for him. He wasn't bad but he looked so pained. He also seemed to sweat profusely but I was rather close to the stage. For some strange reason I kept thinking how much fun this role could be but Garber seemed to not really grab at that opportunity.

So I have this classic theater family farce to compare against Royal Family or the other Noel Coward revival Blithe Spirit. All had moments of humor, transportive fun, and silliness. There were some standout performances in each and some lackluster renditions in places. Any three would do but all in one year is a bit too much for even this theater fan to handle. But is I had to bet on Tony nominations, I'll give odds to Angela Landsbury in Blithe Spirit.

In The Next Room

or ... The Vibrator Play

What a stupid piece of shit. I have no idea what Sarah Ruhl was thinking beyond, "Wouldn't it be funny to have a Victorian play about a vibrator?" This play clocks in at around 2 hrs and 45 min. but only has about 30 minutes of worthy material. One could have taken at least two threads in the dialogue and made them into a more substantive theme. One line longed for the missing human warmth, connection and touch in an electronic world. Another character, the black nursemaid, went on an emotional purge about losing love to find it in nurturing another. But these moments, nor any others, came to fruition in this silly and trivial treatment of repressed sexuality and ignorance of feminine power.

A silly wife wonders what her husband does for his lady clients In The Next Room of their Victorian home. She hears such noises, pleasurable she thinks. It seems her husband has turned to Mr. Edison and electricity to develop a vibrator to help woman with their hysteria and to unblock the fluid in their womb. Through this gimmick, the audience endures repetitive scenes of how to get one female character off and in the second act, a male patient. Throw in the most insane and juvenile of masturbatory humor and it all turns frightfully stupid and one-noted. Ruhl threw in race relations and classism via a black wet nurse. Then she added lesbian longing, wifely roles, love triangles, artistic temperaments, and forbidden objects. It was all too much, way too much, for one play to manage. Even the ending, which I suppose the author saw as some sort of reclaiming of the doctor's wife's sexual and personal power sadly turned into male exploitation and female domination through whining and demanding. Bleck.

Obviously I was in an audience of middle-school minded morons. Snickers abound during the discussions and dialogue mentioning sex. Two groups of folks behind us talked chattily for 5 minutes after the start of the Second Act even after two SHHHHes and final one stern "SHUT UP ALREADY." from my companion. One woman even gasped like a shocked Catholic nun at the disrobing onstage of one character, as if nudity was verboten! Ugh! I expect more from a NYC crowd. Go watch some porn and get over it.

Wishful Drinking

There is no underwear in space. At least that's what George Lucas says. And Carrie Fisher gets to send u this strange discussion in her new one-woman humor act, play, confession, therapy session with the audience. Oh, and there's her life growing up with show parents - Eddie Fisher, whom she calls Puff Daddy and jokes about his obsession with Chinese women, and Debbie Reynolds, the dancing, singing, gay-icon phenomena who turns out to be just your average crazy southern mom. Throw in headline grabbers like Ms. Fischer's mental health treatments, two divorces one to a gay man, and a flowchart of all the wives, ex-wives, and a few of the children connected to her parents Hollywood style and you've got a strangely funny and sad tale of using humor to cope with tragedy. She even has the brave ability to take hurtful coments, like a blogger referring to her weight gain as changing her into an Elton John impersonator, and weaves it into her act, along with a very strange love-letter proposal from a Boston audience member. As she shuffles around stage (Carrie just can't strut which is a good thing, making her more real and relatable) in her pajamas, robe, and sparkly flip flops, she periodically plays with the crowd, opening up the talk to questions about the dead friend she found in her bed, chatting about Hollywood divorce trivia, and getting a guy up on stage to frolic with the Princess Leia image. And that is where the best laughs are, when she frolics in the everlasting burden of being the human behind the fantasy that captures many a lonely geeks libido. There are Pez dispensers, a sculpture of her in the bikini give view to a completely shaved valley view from behind, soap-on-a-rope, and a sex doll that you can't really have sex with since it's rather concrete. But her take on how Lucas was explaining why there wasn't underwear in space is just hilarious! Couldn't have made up such an absurd conversation. And is a weird way she takes what could haunt some actors their whole life and turn it into comedic fertilizer, growing laughs as she dons her infamous wig and recites the famous R2D2 hologram speech, something no therapy can every erase from her memory. Lucky for us.

Sleepwalk With Me

I like low-key humor. I've never been a fan of the crazy, out-of-control or silly styles of Robin Williams, Jim Cary and their ilk. I'm much happier with monologues from Julia Sweeney and Spalding Gray. Or insightful political comedy from George Carlin and Bill Maher. Tonight's treat was more from the former category, specifically from the genre of comedy where personal medical tragedy plus time and comedic talent can translate into one hell of a funny evening.

Mike Birbiglia in one funny guy, in a very quiet way. He comes on stage, carefully through a jagged edged hole in the vinyl blue wall onto the vinyl blue stage. He's wearing what most young Brooklynites wear, good sneaks, jeans, loose-fitting and comfy long-sleeved pull-over shirt with T underneath. He softly mumbles to get the audience to pay attention, shifting their focus from their neighbor to the show. He simply and naturally goes into a bit about turning off cell phone, his inability to grasp the iPhone multi-takings thing, basically taking some time to give the audience some warm-up. I was sure he'd work in Patti LuPone's recent outburst on stage at Gypsy, but he keeps the show firmly planted on the blue floor, in the blue box that is his world. 

Mike starts. He eases into the main pivot event of the show by introducing his stay at La Quinta in Walla Walla, Washington. Having lived in Eastern Washington, I immediately thought of Whitman College. He must have been playing there. I enjoyed his take on the different ways to pronounce La Quita and Walla Walla and he teased the audience with a setup of the dream he was having, a missile coming towards him, endangering him and the men he was with. He then comes back to all the small but universal details of his life - thrilling if not stellar comedy gigs, his first major relationship, gym class and playing with that damn stupid parachute. In between are telling vignettes about his dream world, inhabited by a big jackal bug and a bookcase climbing moment when he smashed their TiVo. Sure, Mike knows he has a sleep problem but when it rears it's jackal head, he thinks, "Maybe I'll have dinner," my equivalent of taking a nap. When he finally returns to the room in Walla Walla, the audience has taken a fun ride on a very meandering and funny route through Mike's daily brain walks. When the sleep walk comes back, it become a nice ah-ha moment. 

Mike gives a wonderfully natural and sleepy delivery. We were there on a Wednesday night when he had an "Awkward Moment With" segment post-show with another comedian or guest. I highly recommend going on Wednesday's for this impromptu event. But any night is a good night to just enjoy some good comedy telling and a little sleepwalking with Mike.

Uncle Vanya

I'm such a sucker for Chekhov. I typically get so lost in Russian literature, often feeling unworthy or under-educated to appreciate Doystoevsky or Tolstoy. But Chekov makes me laugh ... and jump ... and basically react along with the characters. I just love watching his world.

I wandered south of Union Square to the Classic Stage Company on E 13th. I've never been to this theater and found the three-sided 200 seat space intimate but strangely boxy. The audience sits around the stage which was designed with stairs leading to an upper loft and bedroom while below columns, chairs, the stairs, and a swing. These props seemed to create a porch, parlor, piano room, and bar area. While I liked the open feel of the set, I worried that some of the columns and structural aspects would block sight lines for the side seating areas. Since I'm a cheap-seats kinda gal, I was in the back row on the stage left side. And, yes, some moments during the show didn't allow me to see all the actions or faces but the direction and movement was choreographed well and this never bothered me to distraction.

Vanya (Denis O'Hare) is 47 and struggling with the value of his life. He's spent most of his hours working the family country estate with his niece, Sonya (Mammie Gummer), and various other supportive, familial hands. Recently his sister's husband, Professor Serebryakov (George Morfogen), has returned to the estate with his much younger new wife, Yellena (Maggie Gyllenhaal). Doctor Astrov (Peter Sarsgaard) has his own place nearby but often finds himself drawn to this home, to map his forests, find comfort in the old nanny Maria (Delphia Harrington), and perhaps to be near Yellena. Vanya, too, has his eye, head, and heart distracted by Yellena. But this isn't a happy home. Soon Serebryakov starts to demand too much and sets Vanya off to the point of chaos. Too much family has upset the balance and something, someone must give in if peace is to be restored.

The play opens with Astrov at first showing some signs of melancholy and reserve which soon gives way to angst and sorrow at the thought that life is "boring, stupid, sorrid." He ponders the thought that he has never truly felt anything meaningful in his core. In a bit of foreshadowing, he blames the Professor and his wife for creating some of this discord of late. Sarsgaard beautifully delivers what I think is his signature style of dissatisfaction to Astrov; the audience immediately feels his sorrow and sadness. 

As the family drama progresses, we see O'Hare deliver Vanya's more flippant and confrontative nature to the mix. I love when Vanya refers to the Professor as a soap-bubble. How magically insolent! As the characters drifted on and off stage, up stairs, around the rooms, we watch and waited for someone in the cage to loose control, and of course it had to be Vanya. 

The actors all did a great job, although Morfogen seemed to have stubbled in his family speech at the beginning, soon recovering his pace. The three leads really set the bar high and classically delivered a well-formed and entertaining Uncle Vanya. I enjoyed Gyllenhaal's refined, restrained performance as Yellena, not too flirty, strong, but enough small cracks that when her passion comes out, it feels released and you wish she could revel in it more. Sarsgaard had to start with sad emotions so I appreciated how he brought Astov back around to a place where it is obvious his feelings, which he protested to not having, are rawly released, unrestrained. O'Hare was having a fun time with Vanya, swinging from brooding to flirty to crazy, sometimes tugging at his tufts of hair framing his face with a sense of frenetic energy. I loved not knowing where he was going to go next with Vanya. 

The direction, sets, lighting, and sound all added to the classic delivery of the play. After the strange and irritative take on these elements in Hedda Gabler, I really appreciated a more traditional take on these important aspects of theater production. I believe good sound and lighting can just transport the audience into the time, place and space of the play. Crickets, wind, light seeping through the wood slats of the home all worked very well. The porch lights even swayed during the stormy part, subtlety accented by a few distant flashes of lightening. Yes, traditional but so very, very effective. All the movement, characters, and scenes were so nicely presented that the story had space, background, and room to bloom. Professionalism at its best.

So if you get the chance to venture away from 42nd street, you couldn't find a better way to spend some intimate time with Vanya and friends than down on 13th and 3rd.

Hedda Gabler

Poor Isben. When he created Hedda Gabler, I envision he had passion in his heart. In the new Broadway interpretation, starring the normally luminous Mary Louise Parker, there is some strutting, a hint of fretting, and little more. With theater powerhouse Michael Cerveris on stage, I thought this to be a surefire explosion of talent on stage. Unfortunately the entire production, including some horrid stage direction and irrie sound intrusions, fell flat and lifeless, no Hedda to be found.

Hedda is a woman of stature and society, the town beauty once courted by all the men. She has returned from her Honeymoon in Italy as Mrs. Tesman with her husband; he is hoping to acquire a professorship at the local university. It is clear that she's a woman longing for drama, longing for attention, yet never seemingly satisfied - with her upper-class lodgings, her piano, her choice of husbands. Soon other locals revolve in and out of the Tesman's home - The Judge (Peter Stormare), Mrs. Elvstead (Ana Reeder), and a former suitor, Lövborg (Paul Sparks). Rivalry sparks between Lövborg and Tesman, more over the academic position and their writing talents than over Hedda. And a bit of jealousy roots deeper in Hedda when she finds out that Mrs. Elvstead has developed a very strong bond with Lövborg. What Isben builds is tension, manipulation, dastardly deeds and an explosive ending, yet one might never know that Hedda Gabler in this tepid production.

What was director Ian Rickson thinking? He opens with a reclined Hedda on a sofa, reflected in a body-length mirror overhead, lower half naked and exposed. Why open with a crotch shot? Is it suppose to reflect Hedda as open, comfortable enough in her new world to be this aired? But the play isn't written as such. Or was it to shock? It really was more like a painting, not really shocking. I'm still confused. Then there was the droning and ominous sound intrusion. It was bludgeoning the audience over the ears with a forced sense of foreboding. Can't the director trust the actors and writing enough to get this mood across? I felt a bit insulted; theater crowds are smarter than that. 

Next up on this Titanic ride, the set design. Yep, the actors push around the furniture just like the characters push each other around; we get it. But when an angry gesture, like Tesman throwing a chair to the floor, actually lands with almost no sound, due to the overly padded choice of dining chairs, the motion seems empty. I also think they're still blocking the damn movements during previews; at one point, Cerveris had to crane his head around while seated on the couch, searching for Stormare, The Judge, as he paced around, lost in the background. 

Stormare decided to use some weird accent and his halted speech delivery drove me nuts; like listening to marbles rattle around in someone's mouth. Reeder plays Hedda's female sparing partner, Elvstead, with a mousy quality. Perhaps this was to not outshine Hedda but dialog again points to Hedda's feelings of rival in beauty (Elvstead's beautiful hair comes up more than once) and in masculine affection; both Lovborg and her husband take comfort in Elvstead's arms. 

Another strange stage direction choice was to have The Judge reclined in a comfy chair as he threatens and blackmails Hedda. But this staged Hedda isn't in a vulnerable position, she's standing, leaning over the judge. Why? Such powerful writing gives actors, and the director, the opportunity to frighten the audience, let us feel the mousetrap Hedda has caught herself in. Alas, all I felt was befuddlement. This version of Hedda wouldn't give up, give in, she's poised, upright and proud, looking like she will battle again, find a way to manipulate her way out of such a corner. Those familiar with Isben's play will know this is not the version of Hedda with whom he closes the play. 

While Louise Parker and Sparks introduce their Hedda and Lövborg with reserved calm in Act I building them into more impassioned and outspoken temperaments, hey still hadn't achieved an unbridled power to their actions by play's end. Hedda is a local diva. Isben has Lövborg say her name over and over and over like some obsessed fan, yet this Hedda evokes no such lust or obsession. Where is the girl all the men flocked to be near? Where is the spitfire who likes to provoke men, even if it required shooting at them with her father's pistol? I saw no evidence of such a fire in this Hedda, only smoke rising from a prop gun, soon to disperse and be forgotten, evermore. 

Equus

Horses and Boys and Men, oh my!

Much has been talked about - "Harry Potter gets naked." and all that but that is not why I went to this revival of a 1970s play on social norms and conformity. I went because I love plays. I didn't know how much I love live theater until a friend of mine and I went through last year's Playbill cards and I realized I'd seen almost all but two of the plays from last year's season. Yikes! No wonder I'm still single.

Equus starts strong. It starts with a psychiatrist (Richard Griffiths) recounting some details about a new patient's (Daniel Radcliffe) case. He starts to dig into the dark and judgmental analysis of his young ward of sorts, since he is being held in an institution, but he breaks to start from the beginning. A court representative (Kate Mulgrew) rushes in and basically begs or cajoles the doctor to take this new patient - a disturbing case where a seemingly normal and shy young man violently attacks a group of horses in a stable one night. The first half is brillient in its restrained writing, relying on action and witholding, and the fabulous staging. They use men as the horses, standing tall on metal hooves and dressed with metal heads but very embraceable in body given their dark brown form fitting shirts and jeans. When the boy (Radcliffe) leans into their mass, he comes right into where the horses neck, and broad shoulder would be. The effect is very sensual and powerful. The stage is set in the semi-round with an audience looking down from above. Minimal stage blocks exist to be moved about by the actors to reflect the next scene and the wood wall columns easily transform into stable stalls. The mystery is set and like the props, the story unfolds to try to get at what happened that fateful, bloody night. The second act becomes more preachy with two very overt lectures from the doctor. While well written, I found them too demanding and narrow an interpretation of societies inability to accept, even worship, that which it can't conform to it's norms. Worship is a strong theme throughout the play. When the boy truly strips naked, literally and figuratively, is when the mystery is revealed and motives are, if not understood, at least exposed. Sex, religion, Oedipal issues, authoritative oppression, generational disconnect, community structure, and many more social struggles come colliding. While I may not agree with all that the doctor comes to believe in his own struggles to heal the boy while hating himself for destroying the boy's passion, it does make for some very charged entertainment.

And on a strange side note, I was have some marvelous dialog with three very interesting and engaging gay men seated in front and next to me. One noticed the artwork adorning the wrapped balconies at the Broadhurst Theater - Romanesque men riding and leading horses! Interesting.

Fifty Words

Be afraid, be very afraid ... of marriage. Weller expertly captures the realistic and intimate dialog of a couple, from Brooklyn, in the throws of an emotional train wreck. During the course of one night, he flirts and tries to seducer her away from her bitterness and distance while she throws up roadblock after roadblock to keep him at a safe distance. The bumps and, sometimes violent, collisions are stereotypical - arguements about their son (momentarily safe at a sleepover in Staten Island), work stress, innuendos about affairs, dirty talk about how they first met and screwed. The dialog and action is raw and the actors are amazingly bare and real. But what the ^&(*%^? Why do I have to sit and watch a couple being cruel to each other?

In the Talk Back after the performance, the writer and director were there. It was interesting to see the process (this is the second in a play trilogy - I say no more because I hate spoilers) but I still have trouble finding couples could see this and think, "I can relate." and then think a healthy relationship can survive such brawls and tension and be better for it. The writer showed an optimistic viewpoint but given that one of the questioners didn't know how the couple's relationship stood at the end of the play, I interpret this optimism of something individual and not part of the work as written. In fact, two women behind me were going off on how misogynistic the writing was, and I sort of agree. Regardless of who is nastier and meaner in the relationship, one thing it screams loud and clear to me - as a single woman I should stay single if this is the alternative; I'd be so much happier and healthier.

Brunch and Steps

Erica's Brunch
Did a stop-by at Erica's for some good grub and conversation. Jeremy's carrot cupcakes were delish along with his chocolate hazelnut cookie/tart things. Quite the mix of folks from various fun connections.


39 Steps
I'm in heaven! A fabulous cast adapted a classic Hitchcock film, The 39 Steps, into a fun, furious, and fabulous play. A chaotic and thrill-filled romp through the English county side is promulgated by the simple act of going to the theater. Shots are fired, Richard takes a mysterious woman home, a murder occurs, and he finds himself on the run. All the parts, some 80 or more, are played by a small cast of four - Cliff Saunders, Arnie Burton, Charles Edwards, and Jennifer Ferrin. Edwards does a marvelous job as the jaunty and sometimes befuddled Richard as he stumbles along trying to avoid the police and solve a murder. Burton and Saunders are the frenetic and physical comedians, bouncing from one roll to the next, sometimes by simply donning a different hat and speaking with an absurdly funny accent. And Ferrin rounds out the group with style and feminine balance. There's even a cameo from Hitchcock during one hilariously staged chase sequence. What a wonderful way to spend a night at the theater ... so long as you don't have to figure out Mr. Memory.

The Country Girl

Legends On Stage

Clifford Odets play returns to Broadway backed by some very big names. Mike Nichols (The Graduate, Charlie Wilson's War) directs a first-class cast including Morgan Freeman as Frank Elgin, Frances McDormand as Georgie Elgin, and Peter Gallagher as Bernie Dodd. While it took me awhile to warm up to the script, it was worth the sitting to see McDormand and Freeman deftly, carefully, and expertly reveal and show all the details there characters have to offer.


Odets' script starts with a stumble. Stage director Bernie Dodd is talking to his producers and basically tells the audience, in unnatural dialog, what the play's dilemma is - they've lost their lead actor and Boston previews start in a few weeks. They need a replacement. After the awkward setup, the dialog soon returns to something more enjoyable and less perfunctory. Dodd gets an old veteran actor who seems washed up to come read. Frank Elgin arrives and soon embodies the reading and part, showing off his fine talents and potential. Great! But the producers and director have a problem - Elgin is a known lush. Dodd assures the backers that he can control him. Off he goes to offer Frank the job but he can't find him. He heads to his home to find his wife, Georgie, there. The three soon find themselves thrown together because of the play. We watch, and worry, as the play develops, Frank struggles, and Georgie and Dodd's battle through their roles of supporting the lead actor.

McDormand and Freeman shine in this production. Never a blink, gesture, or sound is wasted. With such reserve and control, they can bring such strength to their roles that no shouting or strutting ever could. Gallagher was a little disappointing but perhaps that is the role of Dodd. He seems much louder and more overt. I didn't really believe a person like that existed but it served the purpose to bring out Frank and Georgie's relationship with more drama and suspense. I loved the raction of the audience, in particular one woman behind me who would gasp and even shout, "Oh no!" when Frank made a bad decision or something momentous happened on stage. Enjoy, and embrace the drama. With a cast like this, it is hard to go wrong.