THREE TALL WOMEN: Glenda Jackson Hits One Out of the Ballpark in Revival of Edward Albee's Funny-Vicious Play

Even if the only Edward Albee work you are familiar with is Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, you will have a pretty good idea that the three-time Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright has a way with funny-vicious dialog that comes as close to drawing blood as you can with words alone.  

But if you think George and Martha are a nasty pair, wait until you spend 100 minutes or so in the company of the noxious old lady (apparently a stand-in for Albee's own adoptive mother) at the center of Three Tall Women, which is being given a stunning revival at Broadway's John Golden Theater.  

The play, written in two acts but performed here with only a brief pause between Act I and Act II, is a reflection (or perhaps a justification) of why Albee left home at the age of 17 with barely a backward glance for two decades. 

Of course, it is necessary to take everything with a grain of salt since we only get Albee's version of things, but if the character referred to as "A" in Three Tall Women is even remotely similar to the real Frances Albee, she must have been a barrel of laughs to live with, only marginally better than, say, a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

Photo by Brigitte Lacombe

This production stars Glenda Jackson as "A." And if she doesn't walk off with a Best Actress Tony Award for this, I'll eat – well, not my hat, but maybe a piece of cake because no one can predict these things with absolute certainty. 

But Tony or not, Jackson is brilliantly odious playing a wealthy nonagenarian women whose greatest pleasures consist of (a) being the center of attention at all times and (b) spewing venom about everyone and everything in her life. 

This is more than just the misery of old age, for which she is quite possibly justified, as evidenced by a loss of mental clarity and bodily function, not to mention a broken arm that can never heal.  When poet Dylan Thomas wrote that those nearing the end of their lives should "rage, rage against the dying of the light," he could have been advising Jackson's character. 

Few could rage nearly as well as she spews out a litany of her many grudges and complaints. She is the King Lear of old ladies. (Interestingly enough, King Lear was the very role Jackson took on at London's Old Vic in 2016 when she returned to acting after serving two decades as a Member of Parliament; I'd bet a good couple of bucks that we'll see her in that role on Broadway not long after Three Tall Women ends its run, especially if she wins the Tony.) 

You might be able to guess from the title, that Ms. Jackson is not alone on the stage.  She is joined by two other women. Alison Pill plays "C" and Laurie Metcalf plays "B." 

In Act I, these are three distinct women. Ms. Pill's character   works for Ms. Jackson's law firm and has come to straighten out some unpaid bills and other paperwork the older woman has neglected out of spite, through forgetfulness, or a combination of both. Ms. Metcalf's role is that of a paid caregiver, a part the highly skilled actress takes on with careful attention to facial expression, shrugs, and other physical manifestations of her generally cheery helpfulness in the wake of the many challenges her job brings.   

Alison Pill, Glenda Jackson, and Laurie Metcalf
Photo by Brigitte Lacombe

Unexpectedly, but welcomely, there are also lots of dark, comically absurd lines in Act I that will leave you laughing, even as you sense the gathering storm that unleashes its full fury in Act II.  





At the end of Act I, Ms. Jackson has lain down on the bed that dominates the set - an upscale bedroom designed by Miriam Buether. And just before the break, she falls silent, the victim of a stroke.

After a brief pause, we move into Act II and the old woman's final journey into night.  The set has been rearranged, with a large mirror dominating the back wall. It is undoubtedly symbolic of "reflection," since that's what happens for the rest of the play. Ms. Pill, Ms. Metcalf, and Ms. Jackson have been rearranged like the furnishings, so that they are now all aspects of the same person: the three tall women of the title. Here, the old woman is reflecting on her mostly miserable life through the three women. The youngest is 26, the middle one is 52, and the oldest is Ms. Jackson at somewhere in her 70s (for one thing, the sling she wore in Act I is gone, and she actually does look younger). 

The "Three Tall Women"
Photo by Brigitte Lacombe

Ms. Pill's character is there mostly to listen to what her life will become as she ages. As painted by Ms. Metcalf and Ms. Jackson, it's not a pretty picture. Yet, while it all sounds as gloomy as can be, in the hands of these three splendid actresses, and with Albee's near-perfect writing and fine directing by Joe Mantello, Three Tall Women stands tall in its own right as one of the finest productions of an Albee play to grace the Broadway stage. 

_____________________

Feel free to share this blog with your friends, and to offer up your own theater stories by posting a comment. I also invite you to check out the website Show-Score.Com, where you will find capsule reviews of current plays from Yours Truly and many other New York critics.

‘The Last Ship’: Sting’s Loving Tribute to the Shipbuilders of His Home Town Is a Theatrical Treasure

No bones about it.  The new musical The Last Ship—with music and lyrics by acclaimed singer/songwriter Sting—is a stellar achievement, a powerful and deeply moving story of human frailties and strengths, of love, honor, duty, and determination, that is both down-to-earth direct and mythic in its themes, and that offers up a richly layered score and performances that do honor to the two sides.

On one level, The Last Ship, with book by John Logan and Brian Yorkey, deals with some of the same kinds of issues as did Billy Elliot and The Full Monty—the plight of working class Brits hit with a crushing economic downturn that has stripped them of their livelihood, their dignity, and an entire way of life that had been passed along from generation to generation. 

For this part of the story, the show tells the tale of a group of shipbuilders whose world is turned upside-down when the shipyard is closed forever, and the only work open to them is in the scrap industry.  If they accept, they will be forced to tear down what they have taken pride in building up for their entire lives, with skills taught by fathers to their sons and through the time honored system of apprenticeships. 

A goodly portion of The Last Ship is devoted to the story of these men and how, with the support of the women in their lives and of the parish priest Father O’Brien (Fred Applegate), they set themselves to the task of building one last ship that they will sail out of Wallsend (a real place in northeastern England which happens to have been the childhood home of Sting).

But there is another story that is being told, a modern day version of the myth of Odysseus as he is reunited with Penelope and their son Telemachus. Here our Odysseus is named Gideon (Michael Esper). He has returned to Wallsend after running off as a young man 15 years earlier to escape his abusive father and a predetermined life as a shipbuilder. In his rush to freedom, he left behind not only the hated part of his former life but also the love of his life, Meg (Rachel Tucker), whom he vowed to return to. 

After spending many years as a merchant seaman, Gabriel has come home to tend to his father’s affairs after the old man’s death, as well as to see how things stand with Meg.  He learns that Meg has a 15-year-old son, Tom (Collin Kelly-Sordelet, who also plays Gabriel as a young man against Dawn Cantwell’s Young Meg). In the ensuing years, Meg has gotten on with her life and is now in a long-term relationship with Arthur (Aaron Lazar). Arthur loves both Meg and Tom and longs for the three of them to settle down permanently together. Then in walks Gabriel. 

Because all of these folks have led hard knock lives even in the best of times, they are not given to the kind of histrionics that would turn The Last Ship into a manipulative sob fest. Meg genuinely does not know her own heart. Arthur loves her enough to give her room to work things out. Tom accepts Gabriel as his biological parent without going all to pieces over it. The shipbuilders set aside their personal grievances to find common cause. Gabriel struggles to see if this homecoming will lead anywhere. This is what makes The Last Ship work so effectively, and why an audience is likely to be pulled in emotionally. These are likeable people.  We grow to care about them. 

Sting has done a masterful job, providing songs that fit in so beautifully with the characters and that underscore the unfolding of events.  The music encompasses Celtic sea shanties, ballads, a lovely waltz, a raucous pub tune, and even, astonishingly, a piece that sounds like a Kurt Weill cabaret number. 

Without exception, the performances are first rate. You can almost hear Sting’s voice whenever Michael Esper starts to sing, and Rachel Tucker’s Meg owns the stage whenever she’s on it.  As Father O’Brien, Fred Applegate has been able to absorb the clichés associated with the appearance of an Irish priest in a musical and makes the character completely human. Steven Hoggett’s choreography, David Zinn’s set design, the orchestra under Rob Mathes’s baton (do yourself a favor and stay for the performance of the entire exit music), all under Joe Mantello’s fine direction, make for an evening with a musical that has been crafted with love, in much the same way as the shipbuilders build their own last ship. 

Feel free to share this blog with your friends, and to share your own theater stories by posting a comment.