'The Glory of Living': Access Theater Offers A Sharp Portrait of Society's Cast-Offs

They ain’t no Bonnie and Clyde, that’s for sure.

I’m talking about Lisa and Clint, the irredeemably lost souls and anti-heroes of Rebecca Gilman’s raw and edgy play from 2001, The Glory of Living, now in revival at the Access Theater. 

When we first encounter the pair, they are “meeting cute” in a sick sort of way. Clint has accompanied a buddy to the home that 15-year-old Lisa shares with her mother, a prostitute for whom “discretion” means hanging up a sheet to separate the living area from her bed. Clint and Lisa talk over the noise of sex, and before you know it Lisa has agreed to run off with him.

At first, given her lack of options, we are willing to consider that this might be an escape route for Lisa. Clint seems to be relatively stable, if you don’t think too much about his predilection for 8^th grade girls. They actually marry and establish a home life of sorts, moving from one cheap motel to the next—a lifestyle funded by petty thievery for which Clint unfortunately spends time in and out of prison.  They even have children, a set of twins who are generally shuttled off to Clint’s mother, about whose own stability we can only speculate.   

Gradually, whatever hope we might have clung to for some sort of redemption evaporates, and we come to realize that that what we are dealing with is a pair of sociopaths for whom there is scant chance for anything resembling normalcy.  Clint uses Lisa to help him find other lost girls (runaways and the homeless), who are generally okay with trading sex for a can of soda or a ride somewhere.  Clint sexually assaults and then discards them by having Lisa take them out, shoot them, and dump their bodies.    

As you can tell, Ms. Gilman offers up a version of the outlaw story that completely obliterates any romanticized image of the kind that has been painted of real-life criminals like Bonnie and Clyde or Ma Barker and her boys.  Nor is there a satiric edge to the portrayal, such as someone like Sam Shepard might employ.  Instead, the playwright paints a portrait of lives stripped of empathy and meaning and hope.  There is more than a little irony at play when Clint says of Lisa, “you don’t know what normal is.” 

While the protagonists equally share the playwright’s focus during the first act, the spotlight shines almost exclusively on Lisa in Act II.  It is she who is tried for murder, and despite the best efforts of her court-appointed attorney, she is content to shrug it off, readily admitting her deeds without a trace of remorse or any consideration that she herself might have been a victim of a lifetime of abuse.    

It’s all rather sad. 

What Ms. Gilman has given us is a sense of the underbelly of life that is occupied by society’s outcasts, rejects, and damaged individuals, the ones that Judge Lisa Richette famously referred to more than 40 years ago as “the throwaway children.” 

The Glory of Living is a gutsy play for any company to tackle.  The production at Access Theater is a powerful one, well directed by Ashley Kelly Tata, and well acted by the entire cast.  Key to its success are the solid and disturbing performances of Hardy Pinnell as Clint, and, especially, Hannah Sloat as Lisa, a character who defies armchair analysis and who casually deflects sympathy. 

But, really, this is a labor of dedicated and sober intent for all involved.  Access Theater, like many other small, off-the-beaten-path Off-Off-Broadway companies, serves a valuable function of making sure that significant theatrical voices are heard.  You are not likely to see The Glory of Living at any Broadway or major Off Broadway house (despite its pedigree as a Pulitzer Prize finalist), so you owe it to yourself to make the effort to head downtown and climb those many stairs to the fourth floor of 380 Broadway to see this finely tuned production.

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'Storyville': Toe-Tapping Revival of Musical About New Orleans Red-Light District

'Storyville' at York Theatre Company

I read somewhere that an early version of Ed Bullins’s Storyville, the ambitious and exuberant musical (music and lyrics by Mildred Kayden) now in revival at the York Theatre Company, clocked in at six hours—though I hasten to add that the running time is now around two hours and fifteen minutes, including intermission.

Compression is difficult to master when you have so much to say.  And Storyville does have a lot to say, rather like other works that have attempted with varying degrees of success to take on the majestic sweep of history—shows like 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Rags, and Ragtime, to name a few other brave efforts at conquering this particular subgenre of musical theater. 

Storyville relates the events leading up to the forced closing in 1917 of New Orleans’s red-light district and the subsequent spread of jazz music during the era of the Great Migration of African Americans from the South to the cities of the North. In telling this tale, both the playwright and the composer have had to resort to shorthand and referential nods to the familiar.

Musically, Kayden has written a wide range of songs evocative of the time and place: funeral procession music, blues, ragtime, Dixieland, dance numbers (the Charleston), a Cab Calloway ‘scat’ tune.  Most of these are quite excellent, often toe-tapping winners.  I haven’t been able to find a recording of this show, but someone needs to do one.  

On the other hand, in writing the book, Bullins has had to condense a lot of material in order to capture the particulars. 

He has introduced story elements about the international drug trade, about the world of professional boxing, about the role of voodoo rituals, and about the changing styles of jazz musicianship.  He has looked at racism from the blatant (the subjugation of the African American characters by the white power brokers) to the more subtle (a light-skinned African American prostitute makes a comment on the relative blackness of another).  He has given three of his central characters the names of animals (Cobra, Tigre, and Foxy), as if to tap into the realm of fables or of West African trickster tales. 

There are bits that may remind you of Show Boat (the subject of miscegenation is a plot element) or of Porgy and Bess (will Tigre Savoy give in to the lure of the big city, or will she stay with her man Cobra?). 

But Show Boat had Oscar Hammerstein and Porgy and Bess had DuBose Heyward writing their respective scripts, and they were rather better at it—unless it is the truncating of the story is the source of the mushiness.  I do wonder what the six-hour version looked like. 

The game actors do what they can with the sketchily defined roles, and at least two of them—Debra Walton as the conniving yet naïve Fifi Foxy and Michael Leonard James as the jazz band leader Hot Licks Sam—have done a particularly fine job of embodying their characters. Yet the production itself feels constrained. 

This is a musical that longs to burst out of its confinement, especially during the first act, which is all about atmosphere and style.  Director Bill Castellino and choreographer Mercedes Ellington make effective use of the center aisle from time to time, but most of the staging lacks the sense of the excitement, the hustle and bustle that defines the locale.  While watching, I wondered what Diane Paulus or Baz Luhrmann might have been able to do to lift the production to the level of the rousing score, which is being given an equally rousing accompaniment by the on-stage band, under the fine direction of William Foster McDaniel.

Storyville has seen a number of productions since the first one in 1977, and it is not hard to see the attraction of continuing to tinker with it in search for just the right formula to bring out the show’s full potential. Someone, perhaps, should go back to the original material and restore enough of it to more fully flesh out the plot, and then find just the right creative team to make this rough-cut gemstone sparkle. This might make an interesting project for Encores! to tackle. 

Until then, do plan on a visit to the York Theatre Company to see what is undoubtedly a significant musical, and, especially, to hear Mildred Kayden’s excellent score, well performed by the cast and by the band.  If nothing else, you'll dance your way out of the theater and up to the street. 

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'Bend in the Road': A Polished Production of A Musical With Heart at NYMF

The story of Anne Shirley, the heroine of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s classic 1908 novel Anne of Green Gables, is a sprawling tale that is difficult to condense into the time constraints of a musical theater production.  So much credit must go to Benita Sheckel and Michael Upward, the creative team behind Bend in the Road, which does just that and gives us the most polished of the productions I’ve seen at this year’s New York Music Theatre Festival (NYMF).

Ms. Scheckel (book and lyrics) and Mr. Upward (music and lyrics) may have had to sacrifice the character development that came out so splendidly in the 1985 film, with its indelible performances by Megan Follows as Anne, Colleen Dewhurst as Marilla, and Richard Farnsworth as Matthew.  But they have captured the key plot elements and, more importantly, they have retained the heart of this most emotionally rewarding of stories.

Ms. Scheckel has done a wonderful job of bringing out Anne’s indomitable spirit, and Mr. Upward has written one lovely song after the next, often infused with beautiful choral work.  The best of these include a touching setting of “The Lord’s Prayer;” the ode to friendship titled “Walk Like Sisters” (though it surely should be renamed “Kindred Spirits”); and “One Little Drop,” sung by Matthew as he dances with Anne, looking all grown up in the new dress he has bought for her.   

Though presented with minimal sets (cleverly designed by Lauren Helpern), the production is greatly enhanced by lovely watercolor-hued video projections by Andrew Lazarow, and costumes by David Kaley. 

All of the cast members, under the direction of Benjamin Endsley Klein (Ann on Broadway) give excellent performances, with special nods to Alison Woods as Anne, Whitney Winfield as Anne’s closest friend Diana, and Martin Vidnovic and Anne Kanengeiser as Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, the brother and sister whose lives are so deeply enriched after the error that led Anne to come live with them. 

Bend in the Road is an outstanding entry into the NYMF festival and delightful family fare. It is sure to have a long life and receive a great reception wherever its journey takes it.

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'Castle Walk:' An Intriguing Work-In-Progress That Has Much Going For It

 'Castle Walk' Cast Members

When attending any of the 250 performances that make up the New York Musical Theatre Festival (NYMF), it is important to bear in mind the mission of the annual three-week summer marathon of quickly assembled productions:  “[to] discover, nurture, and promote promising musical theatre artists and producers at all stages of development...”  

Another way to put it is, don’t go to NYMF events unless you are prepared to see works-in-progress with sketchy production values and under-rehearsed performances. If you accept this likelihood, you may find yourself quite caught up in the excitement of discovering something very special indeed.  

So, let’s talk about one of the shows I think has “good bones”, but which still needs more work. That would be Castle Walk, a musical that deconstructs events surrounding the making of a 1930s Hollywood biopic about the renowned husband-and-wife ballroom dance team of Vernon and Irene Castle.

The biopic in question is real.  It went by the informative if uninspired title The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle, and it starred the very popular and successful movie musical team of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. 

This much is known. Irene Castle, acting as technical advisor, was on the set during the time of the filming in 1939. She was then in her mid-40s and had been without Vernon since his death in a plane crash some 20 years earlier.  It generally has been reported that she was difficult to work with, and that she fussed over every element of the production.

In developing the musical, Richard Stafford, who directed and choreographed the show and who is credited with coming up with the concept, and Milton Granger, who wrote the book, music and lyrics (with additional materials by Jere Lee Hodgin) have  sought to fill in the blanks by conjecturing on what it might have been like for Irene to watch a version of her life unfolding in the Hollywood studio.  

The creative team shows its strong suit in fleshing out this central component of the show. Irene, as she is portrayed by Lynne Wintersteller (both tough and vulnerable), wants the film to serve as a permanent memorial to her late husband, and she expects everything in it to perfectly match her memories of their lives together.  

It is not hard to imagine (and feel real sympathy for) how it must have felt for Irene as she wandered about the various sets, discomfited and disoriented by seeing things that were representations but not reproductions of what she knew to be true.  In this retelling, she is decidedly not mollified by the explanation offered by the film’s director, H. C. Potter (James Clow), that “It’s Hollywood; of course it’s a lie.”

It is during the second half of Castle Walk, in which Irene’s feelings are examined, that the creative team has been most successful.  A breakthrough moment in the show occurs just about midpoint, with a number called “Nothing Underfoot.”  In it, Irene—who had also been a very successful dance instructor—demonstrates to the dancers in rehearsal exactly what she wants them to do to capture the famous Castle style.  

Everything comes together in this scene.  You fully understand Irene’s desire for the film to get it right, a desire that is underscored in a later song, “Forever,” in which she frets over the fact that mistakes captured on film have a permanence that cannot be undone.  She worries that the reality leading up to the movie is being subsumed by the fiction.  

As long as the musical stays focused on its subject, everything works—from her jealousy over the hyper-fame of Astaire and (especially) Rogers, still in her 20s and at the height of her popularity; to the inner turmoil caused by the roiling up of feelings of loss and longing that she has repressed for many years;  to her indignation that her close friend and confidante, an African American man, is being portrayed by the white actor Walter Brennan in the film. This is all good stuff, and brings out the best in the songs.

But let me offer some unsolicited advice.  The problem lies more with the first half, which focuses on Irene’s flood of memories of her early years with Vernon. It is just a mash-up of the kinds of throwaway tunes that someone like Irving Berlin might have been able to pull off, but which, unfortunately don’t work too well here.  (Though there is one lovely Berlin-like number called “She Dances Like An Angel,” which is reminiscent of the master’s “The Best Things Happen When You’re Dancing.”) 

I’d say go all the way and find more Berlin tunes to pay tribute to, and present Act I without the presence of the older Irene. Or—if you need a framing device--use projected film of the real Castles or look-alikes and have them played before an audience of Hollywood types who are planning to make the biopic. Irene can be in that audience.  

I'm rooting for Castle Walk. It is just the kind of musical that NYMF is designed to showcase.  It has much going for it, and I hope the creative team will continue to develop it.

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'Volleygirls': A Winning Entry in the Madhouse Known as NYMF

I’m happy to report that, though the title might suggest otherwise, the high-spirited musical Volleygirls offers up not one single ditzy blonde.  

Volleygirls is being presented as part of the whirlwind known as the New York Musical Theatre Festival.  NYMF, as it is generally referred to, is always a mixed bag, with dozens of full productions, readings, and other events presented at various times of the day in multiple venues over the course of three weeks.  With only brief descriptions and word-of-mouth to fuel decision-making, you pays your money (single tickets for full productions are $25 a pop) and you takes your chances.

So let me be the word-of-mouth for Volleygirls, and let you know that this is one winning musical—professional, polished, and well-performed by a strong cast of mostly Equity actors, headed up by Susan Blackwell of [title of show], which famously had its start in NYMF and went on to successful Off Broadway and Broadway runs.

Will Volleygirls follow that same path to Broadway?  Let me say that it definitely could, thanks to a tuneful score (music by Eli Bolin, lyrics by Sam Forman) and a funny, upbeat, and heart-felt  book by Rob Ackerman that mixes the efforts of a woefully performing Catholic girls’ high school volleyball team with the trials and tribulations of adolescent angst.  

Yes, yes, this is definitely a variation on a theme that has been aired many times before.  Fame, Sister Act, and Glee quickly come to mind.  But there is an important difference in that Volleygirls focuses on the lives of girls, and in a way that refreshingly is not about being boy-crazed or striving to fit in with the in-crowd.  The girls in this show deal with real adolescent crises of family problems and figuring out who they are and what they can become.  And for once, the guys are definitely the supporting players (and rather hapless ones, at that). 

Susan Blackwell plays Kim, the English teacher-turned-coach, enlisted to salvage the volleyball team from its unbroken losing streak.  Kim reluctantly takes on the job, even though it is revealed that she herself had been a college volleyball star and an Olympian. It seems that Kim, a perfectionist, choked at the worst possible moment and gained long-lived notoriety in the volleyball world.  Still, she knows it is time to get over it, and in a clever number, she has a long chat with a volleyball she calls “Wilson” (a nod, of course, to the Tom Hanks film Cast Away).  

Even though Kim’s redemption is key to the plot, most of the focus is on the girls on the volleyball team as they struggle to become the winners they scarcely imagine they can be.  

The real strength of Volleygirls lies in its musical numbers. During the course of the musical there are at least four songs that soar, two of which fit in with the theme of girl-empowerment. One of these is the upbeat “I Like Girls,” sung by Marisol (the excellent Gerianne Pérez), who recognizes that her sexual orientation leads her to other girls and is perfectly comfortable with that self-knowledge. The other, also led by Marisol, is called “Jabali,” Spanish for “wild boar,” and serves to describe the attitude of tough confidence the team must exude to become champion players.  

A third strong entry is “I’m In Hell,” in which Katie (Juliane Godfrey) lashes out against her friends, her teacher, and her father (Benjamin Howes), the school’s principal.  The fourth (“Animal In Our Midst”) is a roof-raiser sung by Flo (Jennifer C. Johnson), the angry and vengeful parent of one of the girls who was their coach before Kim took over.  

When was the last time you saw a pop-scored musical where so many numbers stood out?  And while I'm at it, let me give a shout-out to the terrific band:  Mike Pettry, Eric Davis, Brendan O'Grady, and Alex Wyatt, who really tear into that score.  

In addition to the girls on the volleyball team (the others are played by Julia Knitel, Allison Strong, Allison Jill Posner, and Dana Steingold), the cast boasts solid performances by Mr. Howes, whose character is struggling to raise a teenage girl on his own; Charles Karel as the referee; and PJ Adzima as Xavier Ives, the lovestruck game commentator (“Evening, webcast viewers!”), a role Mr. Adzima embraces with sweet and crazy dorkiness.   

Volleygirls, directed by Neil Patrick Stewart and choreographed by Ryan Kasprzak, is being performed at various times through July 27 at the Romulus Linney Courtyard Theatre at the Pershing Square Signature Center. There are a number of performances remaining before the festival closes at the end of this month.  For schedule, information, and tickets go to www.nymf.org

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'rogerandtom': Who Says Disorienting Meta-drama Can't Be Fun?

It’s Twilight Zone meets The Matrix, with a passing nod to Pirandello and Sartre, in rogerandtom, the smart, funny, and—in the end—surprisingly touching play by Julien Schwab, now on view at the HERE Arts Center.

A sense of disorientation begins to take hold while we await the start of the play.  We begin to notice something odd and dream-like about the set, very cleverly designed by David Esler.  It is an apartment, but—as in a dream—parts of the set are more-or-less realistic looking, while other parts are barely sketched out. In the kitchen, for example, there is a smallish refrigerator, but instead of a stove and sink, these are merely outlined on the floor.  The bathroom has a sink and toilet, but also an empty frame where a mirror would be.  There is a phone, but its wires dangle, obviously not connected to anything. 

In addition, we are aware that sitting opposite us on the other side of the set is the rest of the audience.  We are not looking over the set, as would be the case with similar layouts at other venues, but through it—which adds to the feeling that something not quite right is going on here.  Then we are plunged into darkness, and bombarded with dissonant music, and the play begins. 

rogerandtom is a like a funhouse full of distorting mirrors, open to multiple perspectives and interpretations, depending on which way you look at it.  As I sat watching this metaphysical tale unfold, I was reminded of something that Professor Dumbledore says to Harry Potter in the final book in J. K. Rowling’s popular series about the young wizard:  “Of course it is happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real.” 

The gist of the plot is this:  Roger (Eric T. Miller) has come to see a play that his brother Tom has written.  The brothers have been estranged for five years, and it is at the behest of their sister Penny (Suzy Jane Hunt) that Roger has reluctantly agreed to show up at all.  The third character on the scene is Rich (Richard Thieriot), Penny’s soon-to-be ex-husband. 

Reality and the world of the stage begin to merge almost from the outset, and the confluence of the two never lets up.  The fourth wall is breached so many times, it becomes not just a stage device but a key aspect of the play, adding that Twilight Zone/Matrix element and becoming—to at least one of the characters—a source of sheer terror every time it happens.

But please don’t think of rogerandtom as ponderous or headache-inducing.  It is very accessible, and often quite funny.  While the plot continuously shifts gears, the focus is always on the dramatis personae—the three characters, plus the actors who play them, plus an unseen but often discussed omniscient playwright. 

The play moves along at a fast clip and runs but an hour, thanks to a playwright who is wise enough to know when to stop and a production company, Personal Space Theatrics, that knows not to demand additional material to stretch the evening beyond the play's natural stopping point.  

In the end, we are left with a deeper appreciation for what Samuel Taylor Coleridge famously called “the willing suspension of disbelief” and an understanding that we generally believe what we choose to believe—something we cannot so easily walk away from, as the characters in this play learn. 

Much credit needs to go to the director Nicholas Cotz, and to the splendid cast.  Mr. Thieriot and Ms. Hunt do a wonderful job of shifting constantly between playing actors and playing the characters they portray (“we’re works of art, not artists,” is how Mr. Thierot puts it). And Mr. Miller is excellent as the bemused stand-in for the audience, both disturbed by and caught up in the action. 

All in all, rogerandtom is an original and solid work, and Mr. Schwab shows himself to be a playwright to be reckoned with. 

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