51 Shows in 50 Weeks: A Look Back

No matter how many shows I have seen, that moment of anticipation as the lights dim is always a thrill. 


Since we are now in the midst of the theater award season, this is a good time to reflect on the past year’s experience as a member of the audience.

I’ve been to  51 shows since last year’s Tony Awards.  Since I don’t differentiate between Broadway and Off-Broadway, I offer my own short takes on the lot. 


I’ve listed them in alphabetical order, and have given each a letter grade.  There are 16 shows with a grade in the A range (A+, A, A-), 20 in the B range, 13 in the C range, and 2 with grades of D. 

For the shows that I have previously reviewed, I have also included the dates when those reviews appeared.

The List:

And God Created Great Whales.  Revival of Rinde Eckert’s moving play/chamber opera dealing with the intricacies of mind and memory.  Well-performed by its creator and smartly directed by David Schweizer.  Grade:  A-

Assistance (Reviewed on Feb. 11, 2012).  Despite its lack of a straight-through plot, this New York premiere Leslye Headland play was exceptionally well-acted by a cast featuring, among others, Michael Esper and Bobby Steggert, under the razor sharp direction of Trip Cullman.   Grade:  A

A Strange and Separate People (Reviewed on Aug. 5, 2011).  Playwright Jan Marans, who gave us the wonderful The Temperamentals a couple of years back, needs to rework this effort, about homosexuality within the Orthodox Jewish community.  A play filled with ideas without much of interest going on.  Grade:  C-

A Streetcar Named Desire (Reviewed on Apr. 7, 2012).  Intriguing production of the Tennessee Williams classic, viewed through a feminist lens, starring Nicole Ari Parker as a strong-willed and resilient Blanche DuBois and Blair Underwood as her brute of a brother-in-law Stanley.  Grade:  B+

Balls:  The Musical.  A harmless bit of fratboy silliness performed with good humor by a game cast.  Best thing about it, I won a bottle of vodka in a pre-show “tweeting” competition.  Grade:  B

Blood and Gifts (Reviewed on Dec. 10, 2011).  How we became mired in Afghanistan.  A rare piece that turns a history lesson into real drama.  Written by J. T. Rogers, and featuring a great ensemble cast (a special ”thumbs up” to Jefferson Mays), under the steady hand of director Bartlett Sher.  Grade:  A+

Blood Knot  Taut, powerful, and moving revival of Athol Fugard’s tale of mixed-race half-brothers (one light skinned, the other dark) in Apartheid South Africa.  Superbly acted by Scott Shepherd and Colman Domingo, under the playwright’s savvy direction.  Grade: A+

Burning (Reviewed on Nov. 10, 2011).  Naked folks acting.  A real head-scratcher by Thomas Bradshaw, with in-your-face directing by Scott Elliott.  Grade:  D.

Chinglish.  Jennifer Lim was the standout in this thoroughly enjoyable (if lightweight) comedy about international miscommunication, written by David Henry Hwang and directed by Leigh Silverman.  Grade:  B+

Completeness (Aug. 30, 2011).  Itamar Moses’s play about the convergence of science and love owes a lot to Tom Stoppard, but cleverness can take you just so far, and Moses ain’t Stoppard.  Grade:  C

Death of a Salesman.  Despite the high praise Mike Nichols’ production of this classic Arthur Miller play has garnered, I couldn’t get past mere appreciation to fully engage with it the way I did with the absolutely brilliant revival of Miller's A View From The Bridge from a couple of years back.  Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Willy Loman is less a victim of disillusion than he is of dementia, which throws everything off balance.  Grade:  B

Death Takes A Holiday (Reviewed on July 25, 2011).  A soaring and romantic score by Maury Yeston could not overcome the composer’s mundane lyrics and a muddy reworking of the early 20^th century Italian play.  Grade:  C

Don’t Dress for Dinner (Reviewed on Apr. 29, 2012).  Clashing comedic styles bring this ultra-lightweight farce to a halt.  Only Spencer Kayden stands out in the cast. She gets an A, but the play itself, C-

End of the Rainbow (Reviewed on March 22, 2012).  Only Tracie Bennett makes this play about a drug-addled Judy Garland worth seeing, but that is more than enough.  I don’t know when I’ve seen a performer throw herself into a role to this extent.  A+ for the star, but the play itself, C-

Follies (Reviewed on Sept. 5 and Dec. 30, 2012).  Your enjoyment of this amazing work would depend on which day you caught it and the extent to which Bernadette Peters—at that particular performance—was able to find her way into a role for which she was miscast. I saw it three times; the middle time was perfection.  Grade:  A-

How the World Began.  Catherine Trieschmann’s drama about the clash between the theory of evolution and religious faith did not quite move beyond debate mode, but its central idea and characters (a high school science teacher and a troubled student) were definitely interesting.  Grade:  B

Hurt Village. Katori Hall’s gut-punch of a show piled on too many of the clichés of life in the inner city, not to mention the language.  Hard to watch at times, but a strong ensemble cast, which included Tonya Pinkins as a prematurely aging grandmother nearly brought to her knees, made this a significant contribution to the theatrical season.  Grade:  A

In Masks Outrageous and Austere (Reviewed on Apr. 22, 2012).  What may or may not have been Tennessee Williams’ final fully-realized play had its world premiere, under the direction of David Schweizer.  Many critics dismissed it as a confusing mess, but I found it utterly fascinating and often quite funny in a druggy sort of way.  Grade:  A

Jesus Christ Superstar.  Only Tom Hewitt as Pontius Pilate seems to be making an effort at actually acting, and the direction by Des McAnuff is uninspired.  Grade:  C-

Johnny Johnson.  The glorious Estelle Parsons directed a two-performance staged reading of this rarely seen Kurt Weill musical for the ReGroup Theatre Company, and a splendid event it was.  Grade:  A+

Leap of Faith (Reviewed on Apr. 27, 2012).  The musical lost faith in itself somewhere along the line and became snarky and bloated where it should have been straightforward and modest.  Grade:  D

Lemon Sky (Reviewed on Oct. 3, 2011).  This early rambling work by Lanford Wilson was given a confusing production and failed to rise above its basic weaknesses.  Grade:  C-

Look Back in Anger (Reviewed on Jan. 17, 2012).  Sam Gold, the directing wunderkind, fumbled with this revival of John Osborne’s famous “angry young man” play.  The potential is there for a compelling evening of theater, but this production was strictly one-note:  unrelenting and unmitigated rage.  Grade:  C-

Lost in Yonkers (Reviewed on March 18, 2012).  Splendid revival of Neil Simon’s Pulitzer Prize-winning family play.  Cast was uniformly strong, as was the direction of Jenn Thompson for TACT/The Actors Company Theater.  
Grade:  A

Lysistrata Jones (Reviewed on Jan. 4, 2012).  A fluffy bit of cotton candy inspired by Aristophanes. Charming and fun, but probably had no business moving from downtown’s Judson Gym to the Walter Kerr (at  Broadway prices, yet!).

Grade:  B.

Man and Boy (Reviewed on Sept. 10, 2011).  Mesmerizing performance by Frank Langella, but the play itself and the overall production directed by Maria Aitken were ho-hum.  And would someone stop finding parts for Adam Driver that call on him to use British accents.  An A+ for Langella, but overall C

Maple and Vine (Reviewed on Nov. 27, 2012).  Potential for satire was lost in this unfocused work about a couple who try to simplify their lives by joining a community of 1950s re-enactors.  Grade:  C

Master Class (Reviewed on June 26, 2011).  The theater season got off to a terrific start with this revival of Terrence McNally’s play about opera diva Maria Callas, featuring a top-notch performance by Tyne Daly at its center.  Grade:  A+

Merrily We Roll Along (Reviewed on Feb. 15, 2012).  Despite the best efforts of a talented cast, this Encores! production did little to dispel the view that this Sondheim musical is deeply flawed.  Grade:  C

Milk Like Sugar (Reviewed on Oct. 21, 2012).  Gritty and engrossing play by Kirsten Greenidge offered a cautionary tale about the lives of inner city teenage girls who make all the wrong choices.  Tonya Pinkins gave a powerful performance as the worn-out and bitter mother of one of the girls.  Grade:  A

On A Clear Day You Can See Forever.  An oddball revival of the Burton Lane/Alan Jay Lerner musical about reincarnation and psychotherapy that, among other things, switched out a gay man for the woman at the center.  It had its moments, thanks to the heroic efforts of the cast (headed up by Harry Connick Jr.), but still…  Grade:  B-

Once.  Can’t fault the production or the two charming actors (Steve Kazee and Cristin Milioti) at its heart, but the show does tend to be one long romantic sigh.  Grade:  B+

Painting Churches.  The pleasures of this revival of Tina Howe’s play came from watching veteran actors Kathleen Chalfant and John Cunningham as an aging couple dealing with a lifetime of love and loss.  Grade:  B+

Psycho Therapy.  Great idea for a play:  couples therapy for three.  Directed by Michael Bush as if it were a farce, but it just doesn’t work.  Grade:  C-

Seminar.  Admit it.  The coolest thing about the play was seeing Severus Snape (Alan Rickman) appearing on stage just down the block from where Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) was performing in How to Succeed In Business Without Really Trying.   Actually, I liked Jeff Goldblum (Rickman’s replacement) better.  Grade:  A-

Sons of the Prophet.  No doubt about it, playwright Stephen Karam creates wonderful characters, but the plot, not so much.  Well acted though. Grade:  B+

Stick Fly (Reviewed on Dec. 31, 2011).  Lydia Diamond’s comedy-drama was a real crowd pleaser, and Condola Rashad’s performance lingers in the mind many months later.  Grade:  A

Suicide, Inc. The premise is brilliant—a business catering to those who want to write the perfect suicide note.  The satire segues into something more serious, and the mix of tones doesn’t always work, but like Stephen Karam (Sons of the Prophet), Andrew Hinderaker is a playwright to watch.  Grade:  B+

The Blue Flower (Reviewed on Nov. 10, 2011).  Oddball musical about art, love, and war.  I found it intriguing, however, and Marc Kudisch and the rest of the cast were excellent.  Grade:  B+

The Caretaker.  Pinter but not Pinteresque enough to my way of thinking.  Where are the significant silences and the thrum of anxiety and threat that underscore Pinter's best work?  Grade:  B

The Columnist.  Well acted, with a powerhouse performance by John Lithgow, but—with all due respect—who cares all that much any more about Joseph Alsop, the subject of David Auburn’s bio-play?  Grade:  B-

The Lady from Dubuque.  A stunning and surprisingly moving revival of what has generally been considered to be a second class Edward Albee play.  Bravo!  Grade:  A+

The Lyons.  Linda Lavin is a first-rate actress, and her presence in this dysfunctional family comedy is the play’s biggest draw.  But, as funny as many of the lines are, there’s not much of substance here.  Grade:  B

The Mad Show.  This was one of the York Theater Company’s Musicals in Mufti, and what a romp it was.  The cast seemed to be having the time of their lives with this Mary Rodgers’ revue (with a fun contribution by Stephen Sondheim), and so did the audience.  Grade:  A

The Pretty Trap.  An early version of Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie, starring Katherine Houghton.  Not the stuff of great drama, but intriguing and well done.  Grade:  B+

The Road to Mecca. Wonderful to see veterans Jim Dale and the glorious Rosemary Harris in this Athol Fugard work about an elderly South African woman trying to hang on to her independence. The play does border on tedium, especially in the first act, however, and is unlike the more vibrant Fugard plays that are being showcased by the Signature Theatre Company.  Grade:  B

The Silver Tassie.  Sean O’Casey’s anti-war play, mixing comedy and drama in a not altogether successful brew, was given a heartfelt revival by Ireland’s Druid Theater Company.  Worth seeing as a piece of dramatic history, but it doesn’t hold up theatrically.  Grade:  B-

The Visit (Reviewed on Dec. 3, 2011).  This was a one-shot deal, a fund raiser for the Actors Fund and the Vineyard Theater.  Chita Rivera was magnificent in this seldom-seen Kander and Ebb musical.  It’s on my wish list for a longer run in New York.  Grade:  A

Tryst (Reviewed on July 25, 2011).  A melodrama with Shavian overtones, but not nearly enough to keep it interesting.  Grade:  C

Unnatural Acts (Reviewed on Aug. 5, 2011).  Intriguing play about a group of gay students who were run out of Harvard back in 1920.  Fine addition to the growing list of plays looking at the history of gays in America.  Grade:  B

Wit (Reviewed on Jan. 22, 2012).  Cynthia Nixon starred in this revival and first Broadway run of the Pulitzer Prize winning play about a tough, independent scholar facing the pain and indignities of cancer.  The play holds up just fine, but I would have preferred an actress who could show that toughness better; Ms. Nixon is just too likeable.  Grade:  B

And there you have it--51 shows in 50 weeks.   And how was your year?

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Dying Is Easy. Comedy Is Hard. Farce Is Nigh On Impossible.

Cast of "Don't Dress for Dinner."  Photo by Monica Simoes.

Two chuckles and one half-smile.

That’s the best I could muster for the uninspired bit of nonsense called Don’t Dress for Dinner, a revival of a 20-year-old French sex farce now on view at the Roundabout’s American Airlines Theatre.

Written by Marc Camolietti, who three decades earlier penned the much more artistically and commercially successful Boeing-Boeing, this more recent play undoubtedly owes its production to its predecessor.  Boeing-Boeing had an acclaimed run on Broadway in 2008, winning high praise for director Matthew Warchus and Tonys for best revival and best leading actor, well deserved for the extraordinary performance of  Marc Rylance.   That production did everything right, from having the right cast to perfect comic timing.

Don’t Dress For Dinner, adapted into English by Robin Hawdon, suffers from a tremendous lack of imagination, and boasts only one actor, Spencer Kayden (Little Sally in Urinetown) who is able to rise above the mediocre to give the play its only spark of life.

Defining “farce” is not an exact science, but it certainly requires a Rube-Goldberg plot that becomes increasingly absurd, with lots of jokey but well-managed, high-speed acting.

The plot of Don’t Dress for Dinner does lend itself to a farcical production.  The play takes place in the country home of a married couple, each of whom has a secret lover on the side.  With the expectation that his wife Jacqueline will be away for the weekend, Bernard has invited his cherie Suzanne to be with him.  By way of covering up the tryst, he has also invited an old friend, Robert, to the house.  Since Robert happens to be Jacqueline’s paramour, she cancels her plans at the last minute in order to be with him.  Add to the mix, a professional cook named Suzette, who has been invited to cater the weekend and who gets mistaken for Suzanne, and you’ve got the makings for just the sort calculated silliness that is farce. 

The problem is, it just doesn’t work.  John Tillinger’s direction is lackluster, and the acting is all over the place.  There are at least four comic styles that constantly bump into one another, with only Ms. Kayden (as Suzette the cook) seeming to understand that she is in a farce. Adam James (as Bernard) and Ben Daniels (as Robert) are doing baggy pants slapstick routines, with a lot of flailing, arm waving, and klutzy footwork;  Jennifer Tilly (Suzanne) is doing burlesque; and Patricia Kalember (Jacqueline) seems to be in a Noel Coward drawing room comedy.  Seen in this light, they all do fine work; it’s just a shame they are not all performing in the same play at the same time.

Then there are the doors. 

Farce often makes use of multiple doors, through which the characters enter and exit at breakneck speed.  Doors are used for hiding, for barely avoiding collisions, and for making inappropriate dramatic entrances.  

Here there are two doors (three if you count the underutilized front entrance), and, while they are acknowledged, their potential for comic use is scrupulously avoided.  The other might-have-been-interesting room in the house is the unseen master bedroom at the top of the stairs. 

It is possible that Don’t Dress for Dinner may find its footing sometime in the future with a more creative team behind it.  It did play for six years in London, and someone might be able to find a way to shape it for a successful U.S. run.  But this ain’t  it.

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A Leap Too Far

Leap of Faith, the new musical at the St. James Theatre, is far too insistent, like a spoiled child demanding attention:  “Look at me!  Adore me!  Believe in me!”

Well I looked, but I didn’t adore, and, more importantly, I didn’t believe. 

My fault if the show fails, I suppose.  For Jonas Nightingale, the preacher man up there on stage, tells me that if the miracle doesn’t happen, it’s because I just didn’t show enough faith.  

Maybe that’s why, even before the show begins, members of the cast circulate among the audience and encourage (“badger” is more like it) them into throwing their hands into the air and shouting a series of loud and collective “Hallelujahs.”  I felt like a Who in Whoville being pressed into joining the collective shout-out in Dr. Seuss’s Horton Hears A Who (though the stakes are not nearly as high, except, perhaps, for the investors.)

The (not very) Reverend Nightingale (like that’s his real name!) is one of those theatrical con artists, styled after Harold Hill (The Music Man) or Starbuck (The Rainmaker, or 110 In The Shade if you prefer).  He swoops into town, charms the gullible folks out of their last dime, and then disappears one step ahead of the sheriff. 

In the case of Leap of Faith, the rubes are the inhabitants of Sweetwater, Kansas, a place of quiet desperation that is drying up due to a lack of employment opportunity, not to mention rain.  Nightingale and his retinue of choristers, stranded for three days when their bus breaks down, decide to set up their tent, hold a three-day revival meeting, and squeeze all they can out of the piggy banks, cookie jars, and pockets of every last sucker in sight.

Jonas finds out quickly that the sheriff, Marla McGowan, a widow with a young teenage son, has her eye on him and is ready to lock him up at a moment’s notice.  Oh, and her son, Jake, is wheelchair-bound, injured in the accident that killed his father.

Not hard to guess the through-story, or the pending miracle (or miracles, if you count the rain).  A simple tale of the redemptive power of faith and love.

Only, not so fast.  The book writers Janus Cercone and Warren Leight, who adapted the musical from the motion picture of the same title, have thrown in a bunch of other stuff just to complicate matters and, I guess, to provide work for a cast of 37.  With all of those people, the revival tent, sound equipment, choir robes, and Nightingale’s “disco ball for Jesus” outfit (his description, not mine), it’s no wonder the bus broke down!

So apart from the story of the flimflam man, we get to know all about Jonas’s sister Sam, and about the Sturdevant family—Ida Mae, who heads up the Angels of Mercy choir, and her daughter Ornella and son Isaiah.  Unlike Jonas, the Sturdevants are true believers; Isaiah, a Bible school student who plans to follow his father’s footsteps onto the pulpit, has shown up in the hopes of getting his mom and sister to leave the charlatan. 

All in all, there is a lot going on—including a frame that essentially conscripts the audience into the Army of the Lord as attendees of the revival. 

Because this is a musical, I suppose I should talk about the music and lyrics.  So, OK.  Alan Menken has provided tunes that are mostly repetitious, generic gospel, and Glenn Slater’s lyrics are mostly monosyllabic basic rhymes.   

As for the performances, everyone is fine, I guess, especially with so little to work with.  Raul Esparza strives mightily to sell us on the Prodigal Son that is Jonas Nightingale, but there is—intentionally or not—precious little that is charming about this character, and as much as Esparza tries to pump up the volume, he cannot make this work.  The same holds true for the rest of the otherwise talented cast:  Kendra Kassebaum as Sam Nightingale, Jessica Phillips as Marla, Talon Ackerman as Jake (who believes with a child’s certainty in miracles), Kecia Lewis-Evans as Ida Mae, Krystal Joy Brown as Ornella, and Leslie Odom Jr. as Isaiah. 

Perhaps if director Christopher Ashley had the faith the slight story calls for and had gone for a simpler and less snarky approach, the show may have had a chance. 

As it is, there is no redemption for Leap of Faith.


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Tennessee Williams' Final Play: Much That Is Outrageous, Little That Is Austere

Poster by Noah Scalin

There are many pleasures to be found within the drug-addled fog of Tennessee Williams’ final and previously unproduced play, In Masks Outrageous and Austere, now having its world premiere at Culture Project.

This may not be the Williams of The Glass Menagerie or A Streetcar Named Desire, but I am happy to report that it is also not the Williams of The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore, The Seven Descents of Myrtle, or Out Cry—to cite three others of his late plays that I saw in their original productions, all of which were leaden and pretentiously thick with “meaning.” 

With Masks, which has seen a number of tinkering hands since Williams’ death in 1983 (among them, Gore Vidal’s and Peter Bogdonovich’s), the playwright joins such writers as Edward Albee, John Guare, and Tony Kushner, who—with varying degrees of success—have attempted to mix elements of realism, surrealism, and absurdism into their work. I, for one, think he was on to something. 

I give a lot of credit to director David Schweizer, who recently helmed the intriguing, moving, and, yes, surreal revival of Rinde Eckert’s And God Created Great Whales (also for Culture Project). 

Schweizer has done an admirable job of pulling together the disparate elements of what you could never call a linear or clearly plotted play.  Instead, guided by the director’s sure hand, In Masks Outrageous and Austere invites us enter a world that owes much of its logic to pharmacological enhancement.  If you can accept that, you are in for a most interesting evening, filled with mystery, intrigue, corporate greed, paranoia, and murder—along with a surprising amount of humor and glorious turns of phrase. 

As we enter the theater, we find ourselves surrounded by LED screens and two-way mirrors, along with a sound system that is pumping out electronic music and bits of seemingly random dialog, while several Men-In-Black types move robotically about, speaking into headsets.

I have to say, my initial response was that this was a lot of smoke and (literally) mirrors designed to cover up the obvious flaws in what would turn out to be yet another dreary late Williams play.  Yet in Schweizer’s able hands, these elements greatly enhance the experience. 

The voices and the music and the images with which we are initially bombarded create a representation of what it must be like to have Attention Deficit Disorder, an apt metaphor for a play in which the main character is described as having “eyes blazin’ with Ritalin.” 

If you make the effort to filter out some of the noise, you will hear the voices going through a checklist of props needed for the play.  Among the calls for martini glasses and baseball caps, you will hear this exchange:

“Eyedrops.”

“Check.”

“Revolver.”

“Check.”

“Bullets.”

“Check.”

And so it begins.

The play opens, and we are…where?  None of the main characters seems to know—not Babe, the “richest woman in the world,” nor her much younger current husband Billy, a “distinguished minor poet,” as Babe calls him, nor Billy‘s much younger lover Jerry.  They have been whisked off to some secret location, where they are being watched over by a retinue of those Men-In-Black types, collectively referred to as “Gideons.” 

Since the audience is not presented with much of a roadmap to understanding what follows, allow me the indulgence of constructing my own meaning.

I take it that Babe’s status and image as the figurehead overseer of her late husband’s super-ultra-mega-global business conglomerate is being threatened by the very existence of Billy and Jerry, and that the Gideons have been dispatched to see to it that things are returned to the status quo.  Keeping Babe in an alcohol-and-drug-induced fog is essential to carrying out the plan; as Babe herself points out,  “A firearm in the hands of the demented should not be disregarded.” 

Think of all of this corporate intrigue as taking place on the outskirts of the play, while the action within is filtered through Babe’s befuddled and manipulated mind.  Here is where things get messy.  But if you are willing to go along for the ride, there’s a lot of fun to be had, what with the goings-on of Babe’s inattentive attendant Peg Foyle, Peg’s hunky boyfriend Joey, and, especially, “Mrs. Gorse dash Bracken from the invisible house next door” (yet another bon mot from Babe, who gets to relay many of Williams’ better linguistic creations). 

It’s OK to laugh.  This is funny stuff. 

At the performance I attended, veteran actress Shirley Knight, who during previews reportedly had trouble recalling her lines, nailed them—or perhaps wove any hesitations into the personality of her character—and she does splendidly as Babe, striving as best she can to make sense out of the nonsense that has become her world.  And don’t kid yourself; sober or un, Babe is no babe in the woods, but someone to be reckoned with. 

The rest of the cast members do equally well:  Robert Beitzel as the neurasthenic Billy, Sam Underwood as Jerry (with little enough to do beyond standing around and looking cute), Pamela Shaw as Peg, and Christopher Hallday as Joey. 

But it is Alison Fraser as Mrs. Gorse-Bracken (what a great name!) who truly embodies the goofy logic of the play. In spirit a character from Alice In Wonderland, she wanders in and out towing along or chasing after her mentally challenged and libido-driven son Playboy (Connor Buckley).  Things always liven up when she is at hand, regardless of the tenuous connection between what she says and whatever else is going on. 

You can also sense Williams getting quite a chuckle out of setting the play in a beach house of the mind, where one can take a warm ocean swim and watch the aurora borealis at the same time.  And, given the playwright’s predilection for hotel living, you can imagine the hallucinatory coming-into-being of the Gideons (all of those Bibles in all of those hotel rooms!)  If that’s not enough, the director himself has added still more elements, including video appearances by Buck Henry and Austin Pendleton, as contacts from the outside world. 

By the way, the title of the play comes from a poem by Elinor Wylie, "Now Let No Charitable Hope," which ends:

In masks outrageous and austere

The years go by in single file;

But none has merited my fear,

And none has quite escaped my smile.

It is the smile that lingers.  All in all, In Masks Outrageous and Austere is a boldly conceived and quite enjoyable theatrical experience.  And I ain’t just whistling “Dixie,” a remark that is relevant but which I believe I will leave unexplained.

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A Solid 'Streetcar' With A Resilient Blanche DuBois at Its Core

Cast of "Streetcar": Wood Harris, Nicole Ari Parker, Blair Underwood, and Daphne Rubin-Vega

Blanche DuBois is evolving.

Or maybe the way we view her is evolving.

This is what I found myself thinking while watching the compelling new production of Tennessee Williams’ 1947 masterwork, A Streetcar Named Desire, now in previews at the Broadhurst Theatre.

Streetcar, under the deft direction of Emily Mann, features a multiracial cast of actors who are well on their way to making this American classic their own.  

This is more than “color blind” or “gimmick” casting; Williams himself envisioned a multiracial production, and one was in the works as early as 1958. It certainly makes sense for a play that takes place in that most culturally diverse of cities, New Orleans. 

Ms. Mann has chosen her players well, down to the smallest roles, including a welcome return to the stage for Carmen de Lavallade, the ageless dancer/actress who, as it so happens, is the daughter of Creole parents from New Orleans. Just watch her strut her stuff as part of the jazz funeral procession that opens the second act! 

Going against the tide of packing a play with sure-fire ticket selling big names (the current star-studded production of The Best Man comes to mind), this Streetcar brings us an ensemble of solid but generally lesser-known actors, mostly identified with television and film work. 

Blair Underwood--who perhaps comes closest to providing a name recognition factor—oozes earthy charm, sexual frisson, and violent rage in equal measure as the brutish Stanley.  “Every man’s a king—and I’m the King around here!” he snarls at his wife Stella, and he means it, even during those moments when he shows a dram of remorse for his abusive behavior.  He may seem at first to be a toothless braggadocio, but best beware; cross him at your peril.

Daphne Rubin-Vega, as the battered Stella, gives us a woman who is determined to live with the choices she has made and to fit herself into her husband’s rough-and-tumble world, a far cry from the genteel upbringing she and her sister Blanche knew when growing up on what was left of the family’s planation, Belle Reve.

If Belle Reve is the DuBois sisters’ Tara, Blanche DuBois is the one who most resembles Scarlett O’Hara.  Not the bubble-headed “fiddle-dee-dee” Scarlett, but the one who has learned how to fend for herself when those she has relied upon to take care of her have failed to do so, the Scarlett who declares, “If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again.”

There are, of course, many ways to play Blanche. She is one of the most richly imagined and complex characters in the history of American theater, the role of a lifetime for many an actress.  It was only a couple of years ago that Cate Blanchett headed up a production at the Brooklyn Academy of Music that theater critic Ben Brantley of The New York Times called “heart-stopping.” 

So, what a gutsy move it was to pin this iconic role on Nicole Ari Parker, an actress with little theatrical experience who is probably best known as a fashion model and for her role in the Showtime television series, “Soul Food,” dating back eight years now.

Gutsy and smart, as it turns out. Because Ms. Parker has sunk her teeth into the role, and has come up with a Blanche who has evolved considerably from the image of a wounded butterfly, passive and half-lost in illusions and dreams. 

Instead, she gives us a strong and resilient woman who has managed to survive a lifetime of blows by taking matters into her own hands. It may be true that she wants magic, as she famously declares, but look at the entire speech:  “I want magic! Yes, yes, magic. I try to give that to people. I do misrepresent things. I don't tell truths. I tell what ought to be truth.” 

This Blanche knows full well what she is doing, and that the magic she craves doesn’t happen of its own accord.  When, for example, she covers a bare lightbulb with a paper lantern, she says, ”Oh look, we have created enchantment.” 

Despite her desire for a kinder, gentler world, Ms. Parker’s Blanche never for a moment forgets or brushes off the ugliness she has had to endure. 

Here she is explaining to a demanding and suspicious Stanley how it is she has come to lose Belle Reve:  “There are thousands of papers, stretching back over hundreds of years, affecting Belle Reve as, piece by piece, our improvident grandfathers and father and uncles and brothers exchanged the land for their epic fornications…”

And here she is freely admitting to Mitch, her erstwhile beau (well played by Wood Harris with a mixture of naiveté and disdain) of her life after she lost Belle Reve:  “I stayed at a hotel called the Tarantula Arms. Yes, a big spider. That's where I brought my victims. Yes, I've had many meetings with strangers.”

She doesn’t even balk at telling the saddest tale of all, an act of cruelty she committed when she was young and dewy-eyed, which led to devastating consequences for which she will never ever forgive herself.  


I have to tell you, there were audible gasps from the audience more than once, and not just at the brutal act that occurs late in the play.  Yet it is Ms. Parker's portrait of a woman who endures that has the ability to resonate with audiences. 


Even after being horribly violated and summarily removed into psychiatric lock-up, there is every reason to imagine Blanche will return.  For it is not only her uncanny ability to rely on "the kindness of strangers" that will rescue her, but her unshakable faith that--to quote dear Scarlett--"Tomorrow is another day!"

This Streetcar may not be heart-stopping, but it is honest and powerful, and, unlike so many recent revivals of Tennessee Williams' plays,  it genuinely respects the playwright's exquisite use of language and imagery.   


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Why You Should Avoid 'End of the Rainbow,' And Why You Should Ignore What I Just Said

Tracie Bennett as Judy Garland

It’s only fair to warn you, before I explain why you really should see it, that there are plenty of problems with End of the Rainbow, the British import that takes place during several weeks of a singing gig by Judy Garland, just months before her death in 1969.

Let me tick them off:

Peter Quilter’s play belabors the obvious, what you might expect from a run-of-the-mill bio about the downward spiral of a life shattered by addictions to booze, pills, cigarettes, men, and the unquenchable need to be loved by an adoring public.

In case you just happened to wander into the theater and cannot quite recall who Judy Garland was, Mr. Quilter is there to lend a hand.  He provides enough jokes about “munchkins” and “yellow brick roads” and remarks about “Sid” (Luft, husband #3 and father of singer Lorna Luft) and “Vincent,” (Minnelli, #2 and father of Liza) to jolt your memory.   

There are also predictable references to the fact that among Ms. Garland’s fan base are a fair number of gay men, represented in the play by her pianist Anthony (Michael Cumpsty).  Anthony idolizes the Judy Garland image, if not necessarily the person herself; when he looks at her, all he can see is Dorothy Gale from The Wizard of Oz, Esther Smith from Meet Me in St. Louis, and Vicki Lester from A Star Is Born.  Be still my beating heart!

Later, when it comes time to report on Ms. Garland’s death—something that shouldn’t come as too much of a shocker (Hint:  What is the play’s title?)—it falls upon Anthony to solemnly make the announcement directly to the audience.  This is, believe me, not the kind of play where breaking the “fourth wall” is de rigueur.

The other main character is Judy’s new business manager and husband-#5-to-be, Mickey Deans (Tom Pelphrey), portrayed in the play as short-tempered and controlling, a Svengali who withholds drugs and alcohol from Judy and then later feeds them to her, as it serves his purpose—which is to hold her together long enough to fulfill her performing obligation, a five-week run at London’s The Talk of the Town.

OK.  If you are still with me, you are probably wondering why I am about to say that none of this matters very much, and that you would be doing yourself a big favor by seeing End of the Rainbow. 

The answer lies in the astonishing performance of Tracie Bennett as Judy Garland.

I can think of few instances where actors have thrown themselves into a role with such intensity, with such ferocity, as Ms. Bennett displays from the moment she enters the scene until her post-curtain call song. 

True, she doesn’t really look like Ms. Garland, and she doesn’t really sound like her—there are more than enough Garland impersonators out there who can give you these things—yet she manages to embody Ms. Garland in a way that is jaw-dropping. 

When the play opens, in a suite of the London Ritz Hotel (beautiful set, by the way, by William Dudley, who is also responsible for the costumes), Ms. Bennett enters the room like an over-the-top diva, surrounded by her many pieces of luggage and complaining about how tiny the suite is, fit only for midgets (or munchkins!).     

During this opening scene, I was unimpressed.  Ms. Bennett’s acting reminded me more of an Al Hirshfeld caricature than a character.  But it didn’t take me too long to realize that this was a deliberate pose—Judy Garland playing the role of the “legendary Judy Garland,” despite the fact that she was broke and all-but-broken in so many ways in both her career and her personal life.   

As the play progressed, I became more and more enthralled with the tour-de-force acting.  Ms. Bennett takes the clichés that the playwright has written for her and turns them into an extraordinarily complicated person, segueing in the blink of an eye from anxiety-ridden bundle of raw nerves, to ingratiating cadger of drugs, to consummate crowd pleaser, to shameless manipulator. 

You should see her when she gets her hands on some medication that is meant to be used on a dog, or when she uses her self-deprecating humor both to cover up her own pain and to charm others.  She is a walking id, with no superego to hold her in check, someone who lives life as if there were nothing left to lose. 

This is what Ms. Bennett gives us, along with a singing style that evokes Judy Garland after she had reached that place where the way in which she sold a song to an audience far outweighed the minor detail that her singing voice was a ragged remnant of what it once was.  

There is a sense of desperation in every move she makes, but Ms. Bennett gives us a Judy Garland who is hell-bent both on immolating herself and on rising from the ashes—until that is no longer possible.

This is a truly memorable, a truly magnificent performance.  Brava, brava, and yet again brava!




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Lost (and Found) in Yonkers

The boys greet Grandma Kurnitz.  Photo by Stephen Kunken

Nobody likes Grandma Kurnitz, and it’s not hard to figure why.  She is a curmudgeon’s curmudgeon, tough and mean-spirited as they come, the steely controlling center of Neil Simon’s Lost in Yonkers, now in view in a first-rate revival by The Actors Company Theatre company (TACT) at Theatre Row’s Beckett Theatre

Lost in Yonkers first appeared on Broadway in 1991, five years after the final play in what is sometimes referred to as the “Eugene Triology” (Brighton Beach Memoirs, Biloxi Blues, and Broadway Bound). 

Anyone with knowledge of those earlier works will find some elements of Lost in Yonkers that seem familiar.  Like its predecessors, this is a coming-of-age story, featuring, in this instance, not one but two precocious teenage boys.  And, as you might expect, it also includes lots of clever Simonesque wisecracks. 

What makes Lost in Yonkers a richer work is the sense that you are being given an inside look at a very real and troubled family, with enough unpredictable turns to keep it from becoming yet another Simon saga of a World War II-era family, an affectionate but not quite believable sugared memoir that covers up the scary parts. 

Lost in Yonkers begins with a visit to Grandma Kurnitz (Cynthia Harris, co-artistic director of TACT) by her anxious widowed son Eddie (Dominic Comperatore), with his boys, Jay (Matthew Gummley) and Arty (Russell Posner), in tow.  Eddie has had little to do with his mother for many years, and she has seen her grandsons—now 15 and 13—only a handful of times. Nevertheless, Eddie has come crawling back to the family home in order to beg his mother to let the boys stay with her for the better part of a year.  He needs to go away to earn the money to pay back the loan shark who had covered his wife’s final medical expenses, and he has nowhere else to turn.

With this setup, It does seem that we can expect the inevitable march toward a happy family ending, in which the boys and their grandmother learn to appreciate one another.  But Simon either abandoned that path or intended another one all along.  For while Jay and Arty are still significant players, they become observers and commentators, while the meat of the play examines Grandma Kurnitz and the still-festering wounds she has caused to her now-grown children. In addition to Eddie, we spend time with his sisters Bella (Finnerty Steeves) and Gert (Stephanie Cozart), and their brother Louie (Alec Beard)—all of whom have spent their lives living in fear of their mother’s icy hold over them and all of whom have been damaged in different ways.

When one character says of Grandma Kurnitz, who owns and runs a candy story beneath her immaculately ordered apartment, that “she’d know if salt was missing from a pretzel,” you are invited to laugh, as long as it is out of her hearing, because you understand that it is absolutely true. 

At the early preview I saw, the entire cast was already uniformly strong and functioning as a tight-knit ensemble. Special kudos should go to Ms. Steeves as the emotionally stifled and developmentally-delayed Bella, reminiscent of Laura Wingfield in that other well-known memory play, Tennessee Williams' The Glass Menagerie. 

Under the excellent direction of Jenn Thompson, and aided in no small part by the perfect scenic design by John McDermott, Lost in Yonkers even allows for a little sympathy towards Grandma Kurnitz, as we gain some insights into the cause of her own bitter toughness.  There is a moment towards the end in which she shows the audience (though not her family) a momentary glimpse of happiness that is both startling and revelatory.

Lost in Yonkers is a bit messy as the center of attention moves from character to character like a hot potato being tossed around, yet the place where it ultimately lands is most satisfying and appropriate. In the end, it doesn’t much matter whether this is a reflection of Simon’s actual recollections or purely a work of imagination.  There is a ring of truth that undoubtedly contributed to the original production’s walking away with a Pulitzer Prize and multiple Tony Awards and that makes this revival a rich and valuable theatrical experience.

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Merrily We Roll Along, And Along, And Along--But Are We There Yet?

Cast of Encores! Production of 'Merrily We Roll Along.' Photo by Joan Marcus

Cast of Encores! Production of 'Merrily We Roll Along.' Photo by Joan Marcus  

Merrily We Roll Along holds a special place in the hearts of many a Stephen Sondheim fan. In most cases, my own included, this emotional connection is tied to the original Broadway cast recording, particularly since productions have been few and far between ever since its unfortunate 16-performance run back in 1981.

Now it’s back, at least for a few performances (ending on Sunday), kicking off the new season of the Encores! series at the newly (and beautifully) refurbished City Center. 

The production has a lot going for it, including solid performances by the hastily-prepared cast and the musicianship of the orchestra—under Rob Berman’s sure hand—playing Jonathan Tunick’s reworked orchestrations (reworked, since some songs have been excised and others added since 1981). 

No matter what one might think of the show itself,  Merrily We Roll Along still has its share of “hummable-mummable” songs, including Old Friends, Not A Day Goes By, and that wonderful ode to youthful optimism, Our Time. 

Rather than go into the strengths and weaknesses of the Encores! production, however,  I’d like to jump into the debate that has stalked Merrily We Roll Along since its inception.   That is, what went wrong, and have years of tinkering fixed it?

The problems with the original production, which I did not see, have frequently been attributed to the youthfulness and relative inexperience of the cast, needing to play characters who start out as middle aged and go back in time 20 years as the play progresses.  That is the conceit of the show—a backward look at a life of compromises and digressions from the idealism of youth, underscored by a betrayal of marriage and the loss of deeply-rooted friendships. 

I don’t pretend to know how to make it work, but it does seem to me that Merrily We Roll Along takes a huge risk by running its story backwards (as did the not-terribly-successful 1934 Kaufmann and Hart play on which it is based). 

That’s because you’ve got to show a moment of regret at the start, and then ask the audience to hold that thought as you build an emotionally resonating history, so that the viewer will ultimately agree that this has, indeed, been a life worthy of regret. 

You could go the way of Ebenezer Scrooge, I suppose.  However, rather than Dickens, I would suggest that the world of opera—not unheard of in a conversation about Sondheim’s oeuvre—for other models.  

Give us, for example, the beginning of Faust at the front end, and the beginning of La Bohème at the other.   

Unfortunately, instead of Faust—filled with regret near the end of his life—we  have Frankin Shepherd, a man in his 40s, a successful movie producer, whose “crime” is that he veered from a path as a successful writer of musicals in order to pursue other interests. Hardly the stuff of grand tragedy.

And at the other end, we have what we are told is a binding friendship among Frank, Charley, and Mary, and a great love between Frank and Beth. 

But unlike the brilliantly-depicted camaraderie in La Bohème, the relationship among the triumvirate in Merrily We Roll Along is never convincingly significant.  Yes, Sondheim has given us the songs Opening Doors and Our Time to suggest such a deep friendship, but these are generational rather than personal anthems, and we are asked to believe their unbreakable bond is forged in a moment on the roof.  Love at first sight may have worked for West Side Story, but it doesn’t work for Merrily We Roll Along. 

The same could be said for Frank and Beth’s great love.  A marriage that ends in divorce is unfortunate, but it is rather too common among Frank’s set to be considered a tragic turn of events.  Actually, Frank’s estrangement from his son might be worth pursuing, but it is barely mentioned.

So we have it.  The world has presumably lost a successful composer of musicals, and even if we choose to believe Charley’s contention that “no one does it better,” Frank’s choice of a direction for his life is his to make.  Yet, we see precious little regret coming from him—only from Charley, his former writing partner, and from Mary, who has spent her life mooning over Frank.  It’s a shame, I guess, but it fails to fulfill the promise of the show’s premise. 

And so we have it.  I, for one, will go back to listening to the original cast recording and envisioning a different production of Merrily We Roll Along than the one we have actually been given.


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'Assistance': What Won't We Do to Inch Up the Ladder of Success?

Virginia Kull and Michael Esper.  Photo by Joan Marcus



Imagine what it would be like if your boss were truly the megalomaniac you think he is.

That is Daniel, the never-seen but always-present world class monster who rules his universe with an iron fist in Assistance, Leslye Headland’s sharply sardonic and scarily funny take on life in the fast lane, being given a near-flawless production at Playwrights Horizons under the keen eye of director Trip Cullman.

Lord knows how Daniel—who has all of the charm of Violet Weston in August:  Osage County and the self-absorption of Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada—became so successful at whatever it is he does (we’re never told, but a guess would be that he is a major player in the entertainment industry).  He apparently cannot tie his own shoelaces without the help of an endless parade of personal assistants whom he badgers, goads, humiliates, and tosses away like so many used tissues.

Assistance takes place in Daniel’s headquarters office, where a steady stream of ambitious wannabes play musical chairs among the three desks, tied to their computers and telephones like so many air traffic controllers at the world’s busiest airport.   

These bright, young, self-assured success seekers are like those knights lined up in the fairy tales, where the prize of the princess’s hand in marriage and half the kingdom is up for grabs to the one who can solve the riddle or slay the dragon.  Never mind that the road leading up to the castle is strewn with dead bodies; each is convinced he or she has what it takes to win it all.

It’s hard to know why they stay, what with the low wages, long hours, and constant abuse, but working for Daniel seems to be a great step up the career ladder for the young and ambitious—if conflicted—staffers.   As one of them puts it:  “I hate it here, and I don’t want to leave!”

The play opens with Nick (Michael Esper) and Vince (Lucas Near-Verbrugghe) taking phone calls and trading banter like computer wonk buddies at one of those Silicon Valley enclaves.  Vince is delighted to have won his exit pass, a move “across the hall” to some sort of managerial position away from the direct clutches of Daniel.  Nick’s goal, says Vince, should be the same as his was, to find someone who can do the first assistant’s job better than you, so that you will be transferred out.

So Vince moves out, Nick moves up, and in comes Nora (Virginia Kull), whose own personal goal is to be so successful that one day she can take Daniel’s place. 

Nick and Nora form a survival/romantic bond of sorts, and they are joined by three others as the play progresses: Heather (Sue Jean Kim), whose raison d'être is making her parents proud of her; Justin (Bobby Steggert), who lives to make excuses for Daniel’s heinous behavior and hopes he will someday actually please the boss; and Jenny (Amy Rosoff), a cool-as-a-cucumber multi-tasker whom nothing seems to faze. 

There is no through plot in a conventional sense, but there is an inevitable arc to the action, as each character either finds or is pushed through an exit.  And there are few qualms about shoving any of the others under the bus in order to hang on for one more day.   

The vibe is hyperkinetic as things are set spinning out of control.  We can imagine the characters living on triple-shot espressos, energy drinks, and alertness drugs as they work unceasingly to make sure the Great One’s needs are met, no matter the sacrifice.

The dialog throughout is sharp and clever, and presented with rapid-fire flair by a very talented cast indeed.  Mr. Esper, in particular, is magnetic as the always hopeful Nick, expecting at any moment to follow his buddy Vince to that wonderful land “across the hall.”  But all of the others have their moment in the spotlight, and Ms. Rosoff takes it on home at the end with a most magnificent breakdown, for which she and the director must share the credit with the set designer David Korins and choreographer (yes, I said choreographer) Jeffry Denman. 

I have long admired Playwright Horizon’s commitment to nurturing and providing a showcase for new or relatively new playwrights. Assistance joins the winner’s circle with such recent gems as Bathsheba Doran’s Kin, Annie Baker’s Circle Mirror Transformation, and Adam Bock’s A Small Fire.    

Playwright’s Horizons is offering discount tickets on orders placed by February 21:

Use the code HELPMEBLOG
$40 (reg. $70) for all performances through Feb. 19

$50 (reg. $70) for all other performances Feb 21-Mar 11

Online  http://goo.gl/ZY7ks
Call Ticket Central at (212) 279-4200 Noon to 8PM daily
In Person: Ticket Central Box Office, 416 W. 42nd Street between 9^th & 10^th Avenues

30&Under Party February 16 following the performance
All non-member tickets $25.  Use code PARTY.  Proof of age required at door.
Order at http://goo.gl/DpR5m


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