Once

Even after a show runs for 2 months off-Broadway, you might expect it to take a little time to find its legs in the new space of a Broadway house. As of its third preview Once has found its wings. The cast is just as thrilling as it was at New York Theater Workshop, but they’ve made a small adjustment—well, not so small actually. Each has managed to retain the intimacy of their performances in a 200 seater while filling a space with five times the capacity.

There is no need to wait to see it. Disregard the opening date. This show has opened. And it is worth every penny.

I saw the show twice off-Broadway, from the first and third rows, and felt achingly close to the drama. From one of the worst seats in the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre, I was orbiting around the bubble surrounding this unexpected love story, which made it feel all the more dangerous, waiting for the bubble to burst.

Steve Kazee has an effortless charm that seems to only be contained by the amount of space around him. Cristin Milioti is simply perfect. I could single out every other member of the cast for excellence. So, to be completely fair, David Abeles, Will Connolly, Elizabeth A. Davis, David Patrick Kelly, Anne L. Nathan, Lucas Papaelias, Ripley Sobo, Andy Taylor, McKayla Twiggs (who was off the night I saw it, so I can’t vouch for her), Erikka Walsh, Paul Whitty, and J. Michael Zygo are excellent.

I attended with a friend who was seeing the show for the ninth time and another seeing it for the first. They both had the same reaction: barely containable joy.

Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová have created a score that is a beautiful as it is moving. Enda Walsh adds a book that is a master class in simplicity. Finally, John Tiffany directs with surgical precision and a glass blower’s artistry, creating a gorgeous show that is exactly what it should be.

Venus in Fur

I missed the Nina Arianda train when she was in the off-Broadway production. I missed the Nina Arianda train when she was in the Broadway production of Born Yesterday. I was a little annoyed by the hype and heard from a few detracters. Quite honestly, I forgot about the production all together.

To be fair, I missed much of the Hugh Dancy train as well. I didn't see Journey's End. I liked him very much in The Pride, but he was delightfully functional, not revolatory. I have, sadly, never seen him in another production in any media. Yet somehow I have infomation on who he dates.

None of this made me particularly excited to catch a Saturday matinee of Venus in Fur at the Lyceum.

Luckily, for me, I finally caught up and caught on.

Nina Arianda is simply a big bag of superlatives. She was so light and comically coy, but always so specific. It all felt so real that I just enjoyed spending time in her presence. Every breath, every turn, every line was perfection.

Hugh Dancy was no less delightful. He played coy corrupter and come-on king. His smarm was genuine and his vulnerability simultaneously laid bare and guarded. He makes a turn late in the show, that was as powerful a speech as I have seen. He commanded the stage. But he relented it as deftly.

They were a good match. I am not one for deconstructions of the play. The comedy was joyous, the psychological underpinning uncomfortable, and gender imbalances an endless teeter totter.

Walter Bobbie's direction was very non-Walter Bobbie. John Lee Beatty's scenic design was functional and created the right environment for the box set. The box set was limiting at times for those of us seated far audience right.

The time flew by. I didn't drift off once. And I was happy to be alive and in the presence of these actors every moment of the play. Venus in Fur is perfection and this time I am making sure that I am all aboard.

Merrily We Roll Along--Encores

I saw the Lincoln Center reunion performance of Merrily We Roll Along in 2002. It was a joy to be in the room, to hear the score sung live. But the book and concept (going backward in time) did neither the cast nor the audience any favors. For all its faults, for all the confusion, there were those magnificent songs. And then, there was Ann Morrison. Every utterance layered, every note perfection. When she sang, I couldn’t help but wonder about her trajectory, her story in reverse, which moment, which turn kept her from being a star. It was one of those unforgettable performances, probably all the richer because she was old enough in 2002 to infuse it with the ache and regret she could only imagine and "act" in the original production.

Merrily We Roll Along is significant in musical theatre history. It’s failure marked the end of Sondheim’s unparalleled collaboration with Hal Prince. They wouldn’t work together again for over two decades. That break-up led to a long and often successful collaboration with James Lapine, who directs the Encores production currently running at City Center.

It is a bold approach to a concert mounting of a Sondheim musical to cast someone who can’t actually sing the music. Far bolder to do it twice. To make those choices for two of the three leads takes a director with balls, deftness, or deafness. James Lapine seems dead-set on fixing some of Merrily's historical flaws, namely a book that meanders two step forward and two decades back. By and large, he’s made welcome changes, using a series of projections, for instance, to great effect to provide linear references for a decidedly non-linear show. Unfortunately, he’s created problems no Sondheim musical should have—musical instability.

Celia Keenan-Bolger, who I adored in The 25^th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, is delightful as Mary Flynn. She gets every joke, every jab. To watch her reverse trajectory from bitterness and cirrhosis to insecurity and hope is both delightful and devastating. Unfortunately, every time she sings, the show falls apart. She can’t hit the notes (low or high), her voice is thin and trapped in her nose, and her words are bizarrely over-articulated and unsupported. Perhaps her voice is strained from the intense and brief rehearsal period. Having enjoyed her so much previously, I am happy to give her a pass on a future performance, but not in this role. She’s half thrill, half thud.

Lin-Manuel Miranda can actually sing most of the music, he just doesn’t have a very pleasant voice; and he harmonizes like a fist-full of nails in a clothes dryer. He is similarly well-cast from an acting standpoint. His Benjamin Button aging routine is shockingly real with as much credit going to his physical inhabitation of the character as hair and make-up. He isn’t ultimately as delightful as Keenan-Bolger, nor is he as disastrous.

In the leading role Colin Donnell acquits himself best. His acting isn’t as strong as his co-stars. He plays Franklin Shepard as either unpleasant or unaware, not much else. The pompousness that I hated so much in his performance in Anything Goes, serves him better here. Not sure I would have loved his voice (it gets a little loungey at times) had his Mary and Charlie been stronger, but we both deserve the chance to find out.

The stand-out in the cast is Elizabeth Stanley as Gussie Carnegie. She sings, moves, acts, charms, and reviles with near perfection. In some ways, she is so good she undermines the gimmick of the show. Merrily is designed to shine a spotlight on those moments we all make that we don’t realize at the time will change our lives irrevocably. For the other characters, the looking back is clouded by heaviness, regret, and tragedy. Her character is so well played that her rewind just looks like a life—could have gone left, could have gone right, but ultimately went just fine. It is an interesting counterpoint. This isn’t to say that her character’s stagelife ends in a bed of roses. She just isn’t standing at a crossroads lamenting the road she didn’t take—and neither are we.

Merrily is a beautiful, heart-breaking score with a good half dozen of the finest stand alone songs ever written for the stage. To hear them supported by a great Broadway orchestra is a gift. It is unfortunate that they work so hard, only to be undermined by the voices. It is unfortunate that Lapine used the revival score, excluding the song The Hills of Tomorrow, which adds such depth and immediacy to the story. It is unfortunate that Lapine let drown what is inherently perfect about Merrily in his quest to salvage what was sunk. For all the sense this production makes, it never soars because it doesn’t sing.

Wit

Wit is a difficult play. The lead character isn’t particularly likeable on the page, but the audience can’t merely feel sorry for her. The metaphors and deconstructions of 17^th Century poetry are a tricky set up that can take you to places both sentimental and pretentious, simultaneously. The Brecht meets cancer formula flips you two birds and dares you to care.

Playwright, Margaret Edson, litters the page with landmines; but the well-navigated path can lead to a thrilling experience that moves you and makes you think.

I first saw a production at the San Jose Repertory Theatre a few years ago. It was powerful, devastating, personally deconstructing.

The experience of the Lynne Meadow-directed production at Manhattan Theatre Club is too many landmines and the dreaded sandtrap—it’s just plain boring. Cynthia Nixon seemed uncomfortable in the lead role and was all too aware that her character is cold, impersonal, and unpleasant. She works hard to please, begs us to like her, but descends pretty quickly into over-articulated shrieking. She performs. She plays angry, hostile, mean, desperate, and lonely—all with an apologetic tone—even before the character has come to realize she has anything to apologize for. She is actually best (and, yes, she is devastating) in the moments when she has no lines to speak, no sins to confess, and just focuses on the war raging inside her.

I often, admittedly cynically, wonder when so many secondary characters are played ineffectively if they’ve been cast with the intent of helping the star shine. Otherwise, it’s just bad direction. The supporting cast here is mostly mediocre. Suzanne Bertish, however, shines brighter in five minutes on stage than all the lights of Broadway. Her final scene in the play is sublime, gut-twisting, perfection.

If you didn’t see Kathleen Chalfant or Judith Light in the original, you probably owe it to yourself to see the play. While this production doesn’t shine the best light on Wit, there is enough to reflect, to see that none of us can fully deconstruct death, no matter how you punctuate it.

3 Shows With a Black Thread

I didn’t go looking for shows about people of color, didn’t have an agenda in grouping these three together. I simply happened to see them about the same time and, since all had been running a while, decided to review them at once.

Stick Fly

The message in Stick Fly is pretty simple—rich people can be assholes regardless of race; and just because George and Weezie moved on up doesn’t mean they brought anybody else along for the ride— the have nots have been caste aside, left behind, and without a place at the table. The only way into the dining room is through the bedroom. It suggests race has evolved to a white versus black conversation, but economic disparity gets stuck in your throat.

It is a more intriguing idea than it is a play, mostly because nothing very surprising happens. Dialogue is a lot less riveting when you are able to see it coming, pick a side, and write a rebuttal in your head. The best to be said about Lydia R. Diamond’s play is that it exists. She’s done little more than take the Huxtables on vacation and make them hateful. The plot is more edgy but not much more insightful than a sitcom episode. Kenny Leon doesn’t add much as far as mining between the lines for drama.

The star of the show is David Gallo, the set designer. He has created a world that tells you both who and where these people are. Actually, he tells you more about the fictional inhabitants than those cast to inhabit the fiction.

Ruben Santiago-Hudson as the family patriarch who married into money, carried the burden of head-of-household while feeling a guest who could be disinvited at any moment, plays the role as little more than a philandering asshole. Mikhi Phifer, trying to fill his father’s boxer shorts, is a philandering asshole. Dule Hill, breaking the mold, is a philosophizing asshole. The female cast really mixes it up. Tracie Thoms, poor by divorce and discarded by a rich and noteable father, is shriekingly annoying. Rosie Benton, engaging in helping the poor as emotional porn and cleansing conscience through do-gooding, is annoying at inside-voice decibles. Condola Rashad (the daughter of real-life Mrs. Huxtable), is broodingly annoying for three quarters of the play, then unloads for the pivotal twist that comes a couple of hours too late in the evening. She has the chops, delivers the goods, and it might have made for a stronger play had the maid played a bigger role.

Kudos to Alicia Keys for producing. Putting more African American actors to work and putting more African American characters at the center of that work makes theatre better—moving on up to the front of the stage is only a good thing for all of us, on both sides of the proscenium. I just wish there was a stronger play waiting once we all got there.

The Road to Mecca

Photo by Walter McBride

Athol Fugard gives us an opposite view of the character of color in the apartheid-era play, The Road to Mecca—none make the stage and barely make mention. The story is actually only set in the time of apartheid, it isn’t really about that. It isn’t really about much at all. There may be something in there, but it is too convoluted to care.

There isn’t much story, and there is even less drama. It was a thrill to see Rosemary Harris on stage; but neither the role nor the performance is worthy of her legend. Carla Gugino delivers some spark but not much fire. Jim Dale arrives late and leaves early and neither much matter—not his fault. The play sets him up to be the desperately-needed crux of the story, but this lame drama needs a crutch before it is ready for a crux.

The worst I can say about this play is that it exists. It is just boring. Who cares? There’s ten minutes of drama draped in an evening of blather. I am no better for having met these people. No closer to Mecca having traveled their Road. If you need to have your life shortened by a couple of hours, this is the euthanasia for you.

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater

Yes, the show has closed for this winter, but it will be back at the end of the year; and it is never too early to make it a priority. I make it a point to see Alvin Ailey at City Center every year. A year without Revelations is no revelation. This year, I caught it twice.

The first time was less than perfect. The seats were far right, and while I like to move around from year to year for perspective, something gets lost at the extremes. My favorite way to see the show is in the first couple of rows. The tickets are $25, the view is thrilling, the intimacy is eye-opening because you can see the incredible work, talent, and control on an individual basis. You trade shape and scale for individual perfection. That perfection is especially clear when watching the solo number, I Wanna Be Ready, which was performed in rotation this year by two guest artists, Clifton Brown and Matthew Rushing, both long-standing, stand-out members of the company. They couldn’t be more different (two master classes, Brown’s in precision and Rushing’s in personality). If these two dancers are not on your list of not-to-be-missed performers, add them, remember them, and see them.

You can never go wrong with an all-Ailey evening. Someone else bought my ticket on the first visit, so it wasn’t all-Ailey and what could go wrong did. The first number, some assault choreographed by Geoffrey Holder, was barely bearable. It was followed by something forgettable, choreographed by Judith Jamison. Even Revelations was diminished by some ill-advised, “special” event that included members of Ailey II and some children from Ailey Elementary or some such. It was too many people adding little. I’m not a big fan of other people’s children to begin with and certainly wouldn’t knowingly attend their annual recital.

I couldn’t let that be my experience for the year, so I returned, this time sitting in the balcony. It couldn’t have been a more different experience. The evening started with Anointed, choreographed by Christopher L. Huggins. What a thrilling beginning. The final movement of the dance is as emotional and moving as anything I have ever seen. The second, a hip-hop number, Home, choreographed by Rennie Harris and inspired by photos and essays submitted for the Fight HIV Your Way campaign was excellent, although I wish I hadn’t known in advance about the supposed subject matter. I expected more of a connection. It turned out to be a lovely hip-hop number. I just missed the inspiration. Finally, Revelations renewed my faith. Fix Me Jesus was absolute perfection.

Revelations is a quintessentially African American story, but it’s emotions and arc and connection are universal and for me, simply essential.

Once

Once in a while, you get to have an experience in the theatre that is thoroughly satisfying. Every now and then, the experience is completely original. Occasionally, a movie is transplanted to the stage and works.

Once, now playing at the New York Theatre Workshop, is that infrequent experience.

It isn’t a revolutionary script. It isn’t much of a story at all. It is not merely a some-enchanted-evening, nor the magical onceness of serendipity that sustains the evening. Once is about wants, the pure human desires and regrets and promises unfulfilled that plague and paralyze each of us. That is why the music haunts instead of whines. The subtext is Shakespearean, the text is fragile.

Steve Karzee, as the Guy, doesn’t act. He inhabits the aching. He broods without petulance. He is so effortlessly believable and vulnerable that he kills softly, strumming our pain and other cliches without cliche. And the words, that could easily have descended into complaint rock, bleed and break as truly as the heartiest among us.

Cristin Milioti, the Girl who breathes life into a stranger and whose honesty arrests then paroles the Guy’s heart, is amazing in a role that could have been 2 hours of nails on a chalkboard. She has the mystique to make you fall in love with your kidnapper—and her lushious voice cradles every break in your spirit.

The large cast, integral though only loosely integrated, are multi-talented, playing multiple instruments and roles and creating vital environment to a piece that is largely environmental. The Director, John Tiffany, is smart enough to showcase them for nearly a half-hour before curtain as they take the stage singing a series of bar songs on the stage that has been converted into a bar—functioning and serving alcoholic beverages before the show and at intermission. They set a perfect tone of fun and exuberance that makes the subtle strip into the full exposure of the opening number all the more gripping.

Fitting that the empty bar, the symbol of drowning in wants on the rocks, frames the open stage where the action can move through time and space unencumbered. This cinematic flow befits a film turned stage production, but more importantly it befits this production. Once hits every note beautifully.

There is talk of Once moving to Broadway, but it is so perfectly realized at NYTW that you should catch it there before the towering bar loses its majesty in a more majestic house. Something this good only comes along once and a while. I already have my ticket to see it again. Once was not enough.

Godspell

Godspell contains one of my favorite scores. Growing up enamored as much by Amy Grant and Sandi Patty as Betty Buckley and Jennifer Holliday, Godspell was one of those college discoveries that overwhelmed me and created a connection that still grips me. The production at Loyola University in New Orleans, set in a small room with folding chairs, was clear and powerful and funny and thrilling.

The current Broadway revival fails to capture the nostalgia of two decades ago, but I certainly can’t fault it that—a second affair can’t live up to the thrill of the first time, especially when the emotional memory is stronger than the actual memory.

My biggest challenge with the current production is that it isn’t clear. Had I not known what it was about, I would still be scratching my head. To be fair, the show itself is muddled. Further, the production is almost done in by atrocious sound that, on the night I attended, rendered some actors unintelligible—singing songs for which I know every single word. It is unfortunate because there is a lot of talent on the stage at Circle in the Square.

It is hard to pick a stand out. All the women are solid pop tarts although, with the exception of Uzo Aduba, they sound indistinguishable with the same gospel riffs and upper range wails. Hunter Parrish, as Jesus, lacks the focus and sincerity that made his debut in Spring Awakening so powerful. I can only imagine that he was directed toward the particular spasticity that seems to have taken over his arms and the over-happy, jerky delivery of his lines. Perhaps, it is because he is surrounded by a cast that is very comfortable with the improvisational farce of the script and the mix of simplicity, soaring, and sass of the songs that he doesn’t fare as well in comparison. Perhaps, he needs a little more time in the role to inhabit it comfortably. Perhaps, Jesus is just tough to nail. Parrish’s voice is fine but limited, and the noticeable strain on that particular Sunday night actually gave him a raspy depth that was appealing in the lower register.

The production comes across as a college mounting, a very fine college performance, which isn’t inappropriate. While I caught myself occasionally wondering what might have been in more experienced hands, I had to remind myself that the spirit of this show is rooted in the joyous fumblings of youth and inexperience. Also, it is almost impossible to evaluate the performances and the greater production when you can only hear and understand about sixty percent of the show.

To be fair, my companion that night had seen the show the previous week from the other side of the theater and understood everything and enjoyed the show so much that he couldn’t wait to see it again. Part of the problem is that the band was often too loud, but that was occasional. The mics and sound were the main culprits. Actually, three in the cast reprised a first act number during Intermission with only piano accompaniment, no microphones. It was splendid, and not because the voices were one bit better than that of the actress who performed it during the show—the audible glimpses of her voice were spectacular.

I am not sure this production builds a case for sitting through it, but I would love to hear the cast recording. The show itself delivers on the God but falls short on the spell.

Bonnie and Clyde: The Musical

No surprise to find a show in its third full production in fine form during a preview. Three out of four of the lead performances are spectacular. The featured actors, young and old, are strong. The ensemble solid. The staging is efficient. While the score is more swollen than swell and the book is mostly functional, in the hands of these talented actors, both provide more than enough flint to catch fire.

Jeremy Jordan, as Clyde Barrow, is tremendous. He has more killer charm than killer instinct, but from a musical standpoint, he kills it. Everything about him is effortless, especially his lyric and lovely voice. His country cool isn’t layered so much as cellular. Even when he is saddled with a score where every song sounds alike, he meets the monotonous task with passion. When cuffed (sometimes literally) with clichés, especially in the moment the whole show and his whole life are justified for the sake of his inner child—rather anti-climactically since his inner child is an asshole too—Jordan rises above the stagemine and soars above the material.

Laura Osnes, as Bonnie Parker, gets a far less showy role which makes it all the more gripping when she grabs you by the throat in the second act and wrenches your gut with the big show ballad. The fact that the song is beautiful but stupid is all the more impressive.

The revelation of the show is Melissa van der Schyff, as the Bible-thumping Blanche Barrow. She is natural, vulnerable, passionate, and comedic without a hint of caricature. I grew up with a woman who could have been Ms. van der Schyff in this role. That’s what was so exciting, she convinced me she was a real person—an incredibly talented real person.

Clayborne Elder will, hopefully, use the days until opening to find some shade of honesty. He’s got the loping gait, the sloped shoulders beaten down by the shame of poverty, and he’s nailed the accent. The downfall is that he seems to think that the mastery of drawl and diphthong requires a descent into duncery. One can be a follower without being a complete moron, and one’s reasoning can be clouded by family loyalty without boarding the short bus.

The supporting cast is fine. Joe Hart and Louis Hobson don’t really stand out. Hobson, who was so appealing in Next to Normal, may need to settle into this role. The performance is disjointed and he isn’t gifted much from the page. Neither does he bring much to filling in the blanks. Michael Lanning stands out as a preacher who wails a nice gospel tune and a pedantic pander called “Made in America,” easily the worst song in the show with the most tone deaf sentiment—you may be starving, poor, out of work, have no options but keep a smile on your face, gosh darn it, because you were made in America.

The score is classic Frank Wildhorn—too many songs with too little payoff, that don’t move the story along. He is clearly a graduate from the Andrew Lloyd Webber school of songwriting. The music swells to a bloat, leaving the show herniated and unstable. He uses the same four-note regression so many times, he reprised songs before he’d ended them. The melodic déjà vu was just as well, Don Black’s lyrics were recycled from an after-school special, a really dumb school.

The book by Ivan Menchell tries to be serious but descends into formula; and when the author’s note spends five paragraphs on how yours is the only true take on the subject matter ever written, you better deliver. He seems to have gotten caught up in the hype and offers more glorification than insight.

Bonnie and Clyde isn’t the killer it should have been, more of a miss-demeanor; but Jordan, Osnes, and van der Schyff should be classified America’s Most Wanted.

An Evening With Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin

Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin are deserved legends. Spending an evening with them singing two dozen or so songs, you know, during some incredibly magical moments, exactly why. When Ms. LuPone sings “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” she needs neither trappings nor context. She devastates with raw vulnerability and abundant vocal guts. She delivered a dizzying performance of “Not Getting Married Today.” Actually, she delivered it twice on opening night, just to get every word out perfectly.

She is never more charming and enjoyable than when she assumes the role of underdog. It was as lovely as it was rare to see. Likewise, Mandy Patinkin’s best moment came after a few flubs and false starts during “Everybody Says Don’t.” When Ms. LuPone distracted him with an impromptu waltz, he stopped performing and just sang the song—beautifully.

Much of the rest of the evening is labored and moves far too slowly. Nobody comes to a Mandy and Patti show and expects subtlety or boredom, but they have included scenes from musicals associated with some of the songs. That is a mistake. Their acting is stilted and the scenes contrived and the flimsy thread that connects the whole affair is cute at best. They spoke as themselves once each during the evening. They are so personal and human and connected to the audience, you long for more banter. More of them. It is what you walk in expecting. So, it becomes not so much an evening with them as an evening watching them half-act what one can only imagine are dream roles. That their dreams include so much Rodgers and Hammerstein made me want to pinch myself. I couldn’t wake up fast enough.

You really need to be a fan, perhaps not die hard but a fan nevertheless, to fully appreciate the evening. Patinkin hasn’t so much lost his voice as his lilt. He seems to be recasting himself as a baritone, but his voice in that register is wobbly and overworked. His vibrato is like a cement mixer, and his phrasing is all jerks and lurches. I know voices settle as they age, but his upper range is clear and beautiful and breathtaking. The lower range sounds like he settled and then settled. Ms. LuPone has either become a caricature of herself or is atrophied by habit. That she over articulates when she speaks and sings without burden of a consonant is an expectation as much as an enigma; but the mouth is more cocked, the phrases spit as often as sung, and so many notes got trapped in her nose, I suspect at least one was of the ransom variety.

But these are stars, still bigger than life. They deserve a show that is as big as they are, as monumental. Watching tigers wimper and only occasionally growl feels like voyeurs at the zoo, waiting for the caged animals to yawn or lick themselves. One expects that the stage is LuPone’s and Patinkin’s natural habitat. They do attack from time to time—a charming chair dance, an uncharacteristic “A Quiet Thing” and “Like It Was” from Ms. LuPone, exciting reprises of past performances of “The-God-Why-Don’t-You-Love-Me Blues” and “Oh What a Circus” from Mr. Patinkin, and two delightful duets for an encore. Even a theatre cub would starve on the amount of red meat they served up, quality though it was.

I have no doubt that an evening with LuPone and Patinkin could be thrilling. I have spent evenings with them that were thrilling. Unfortunately, not this time, not entirely.

Standing on Ceremony: The Gay Marriage Plays

The power of this collection of same-sex marriage shorts isn't the words. You won't hear anything you haven't heard before if you've been listening to anyone with anything to say on the subject.

What is transformative is the master class being provided by Harriet Harris. Without the trappings of costume or set or the freedom to storm the stage, she does the hardest and simplest and best that any actor can--she tells the story, honors the words and fills the space between the page and the audience with heart, humor, and humanity. Ms. Harris is the perfect muse for Paul Rudnick's exaggerated reality and goes from zero to hilarious in a glance. If it is true, as many actors will tell you, that comedy is harder than drama, don't point to Harriet Harris as your evidence. Her performance is effortless, which is not to say that she isn't working hard. She is any playwright's or dairy farmer's dream, she milks every moment for what it's worth but offers you nothing but the cream.

Her performance alone is reason to see this reading of 9 playlets. Fortunately, Harriet Harris doesn't stand on ceremony alone. Beth Leavel is one of the most consistent delights working in the theatre today, and she is no less terrific here. Richard Thomas, occasionally slathering the effete on top rather than baking it into the performance, is ultimately heartbreaking and wonderful, brilliantly navigating the traps of an obituary monologue by Moises Kaufman. Mr. Kaufman contributed the most thoughtful and strongest piece of the day with a fairly compelling argument against marriage as the ultimate acknowledgement of commitment, suggesting the life and the love speak louder than any single word.

Mark Consuelos and Craig Bierko are both strong and steady with uneven material. Polly Draper appears to have believed she was, in fact, hired to perform in a reading. Perhaps if her co-stars had gotten the same memo and not delivered fully-formed performances, her brilliance might have come through more consistently; but her online lesbian in Doug Wright's "On Facebook" is a scream, every line. While clumsy in Mo Gaffney's "Traditional Marriage," I have to give her credit for jabbing me in both eyes as she tore through my heart.

Standing on Ceremony won't change your life and won't change your mind about gay marriage. Many of the pieces are overly sweet with a side of trite. Paul Rudnick makes you not care about the content or the concept in either of his two pieces because the form and style are so strong and so him. Neil LaBute's "Strange Fruit" is just too trying--trying too hard to shock, trying too hard to force emotions without taking the time to earn them, and trying my patience for borrowing a bit too much from Torch Song Trilogy. Jordan Harrison, Wendy MacLeod, and Jose Rivera contribute fine but expected points of view.

Unless you are simply in need of an hour and a half of "atta gay," the plays aren't the thing; but with this cast, neither the subject nor the matter are the point. The reason to stand on ceremony, to stand up and celebrate are the players not the plays. All six of these actors have been brilliant before and will be brilliant again, just maybe not on the same stage at the same time. If Standing on Ceremony gets you to consider only one commitment, make it not missing these performers.

Follies: Revisited

I am not sure there is anything left to be said about Follies. I saw it early at the Kennedy Center and was more grateful for its existence than evincing its greatness. I was surprised it transferred to Broadway but hoped it might settle and find its legs if not its heart.

A few of the problems from those early days have been resolved. The choreography in Who’s That Woman is no longer a cluster tap, and the character of Solange is now intelligible (understated and humorously played by Mary Beth Peil). While I greatly enjoyed Linda Lavin at Kennedy Center, Jane Houdyshell is a surprising delight. [Total aside: As I dropped money into the BC/EFA bucket, I said to her, “You were wonderful.” She responded, “Thank you, so were you.”]

Some of the show has improved with age. Jan Maxwell’s interpretation of Could I Leave You? is stronger than ever. Who’s That Woman is the single most thrilling part of the show. One More Kiss rended my heart. And with Regine’s exit, the trio of Rain on the Roof, Ah Paris, and Broadway Baby comes together for a swelling conclusion befitting a big time Broadway show.

One of the most joyful surprises of the show was Bernadette Peters’ honest and touching and personal performance. Sadly, it was during the post-curtain speech urging donations to Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids. Oh, that she could have brought a moment of that to the script. Unfortunately, her “performance” has gotten more self-conscious and self-important (her final exit was so protracted and masturbatory that it was embarrassing). Perhaps it was just the day, but she also had a more tenuous relationship with the music than she did with Buddy.

The show still has insufficient heart. The director and, by extension, many of the performers don’t seem to trust the songs. Elaine Paige shows no more interest in telling a story with I’m Still Here than she did in May. Danny Burstein’s The Right Girl is now more about a Tourette’s of jazz hands than an inner conflict. Ron Raines continues his one note performance that never quite finds the right key.

Instead of finding its way in the months since the Kennedy Center, the show seems to have lost considerable steam. It did, however, get me to thinking about its future. Will it close? Will it continue with a trickling of replacements? Or might they refresh the proceedings when Bernadette Peters goes with a new foursome?

I would love to see Reba McEntire step in as Sally, not just because she made stupid direction make sense in Annie Get Your Gun and offered a superior performance to Peters’ original, but also because I think she would be original and heartbreaking in the role. I have no idea how strong her soprano range is, but she would be certain to make the role and score her own. As Ben, I would be excited to see Tom Wopat, who was so achingly impressive in Catch Me If You Can. The replacement Phyllis is so obvious to me that I can’t believe she hasn’t performed the role on Broadway already. Bebe Neuwirth is all ice and stems and scared little girl gone hard. Finally, for the role of Buddy, my dream would be John Goodman. He has the chops, the comedic energy, and the everyman believability to play salesman, cheat, and unsettled man who settled.

I love this show so much. I long for it to be better. I saw the 2001 revival several times and, despite its deficiencies (particularly the female leads’ voices and the male leads’ "it"), it was haunting, beautiful, and devastating. And it had the perfection of Polly Bergen. I wish this version had half the heart and even a fraction of the vision. Like the characters in Follies, for now, I will just have to comfort (and torture) myself with the memories.

A French Kiss From Lee Lessack

I discovered Lee Lessack at a performance in the late 90’s, upstairs at Eighty Eights, the best-of-its-generation New York piano bar that didn’t live to see the new millennium. I left enamored with his self-titled CD in hand. He is a master of the story-telling song, as evidenced in my favorite track from that disc, Jonathan Wesley Oliver, Jr. by Tom Brown. A few years later, I decided I wanted to sing the song; but the internet, not being what it is today, turned up no hits on sheet music. I was, however, able to track down a general e-mail address for Lee via his label’s (LML Music) website, a stranger begging for help. He not only sent me the music, he sent me his chart. Turned out, he was as genuine a person as he was an interpreter of song. 

Chanteur, a collection of songs from the French (and French Canadian) songbook, is his latest CD. His voice and style are perfectly suited for the simplicity and vulnerability the songs require. I particularly enjoyed his interpretation of Charles Aznavour’s She and Leonard Cohen’s Song of Bernadette. Consistent with his past generosity, Lee even agreed to answer a few of my annoying questions.

RS: Your base of operation is in California. What's the difference from the East Coast in terms of building and maintaining a career? What took you to California?

LL: I think it depends what area of the entertainment business you are focusing on. I migrated West on a whim and never left. I lived in NY for several years prior to moving to LA and I love NY but I much prefer the space and weather on this coast. I could navigate my career from either coast, as long as I'm close to a major airport.

What was your big break moment that allowed you to go from working in music/cabaret to a career in music?

I'm not sure that I had a big break LOL. I think what grounded my career is that I simultaneously founded the LML Music label.

You launched your own label. What drove that decision and what have been the challenges and benefits?

I started LML Music because I needed a label for my first album. I soon discovered that I had a pretty good head for business and got some great national distribution and press on that recording. Soon, other artists were asking me to release their CDs on LML Music. It's now been 17 years and we distribute over 100 vocalists. There have been challenges due to the economy and the explosion of the digital music world, but all in all it's been a great ride.

How does having your own label change how you approach music?

I think I have learned to produce recordings that are more marketable.

Do you see yourself as having a particular musical point of view? Is there a Lee Lessack type of song or a particular style you are drawn to?

I'm very drawn to lyrically driven music. I like to tell a story when I record.

Looking at your discography chronologically, has the progression been deliberate? If so, how?

I think after my first 2 recordings it has been quite deliberate. For instance, I felt for CD #3 that I wanted to do a LIVE recording and so I recorded my Johnny Mercer concert. My biggest production to date was "In Good Company" which I produced to celebrate the 10-year anniversary of LML Music and it features all newly recorded duets. I had the privilege of recording with some amazing artists such as Michael Feinstein, Maureen McGovern, Ann Hampton Callaway, Stephen Schwartz, Susan Werner etc. Half of the artists were names that I felt would help to elevate distribution and the other half were voices that I just felt needed to be heard. In the end the project was a very "full circle" endeavor. For my latest album, "Chanteur", I went back to square one and created a very simple (piano, guitar, bass and voice) sound. It's all about the lyrics and the journey.

A lot of your work has been in collaboration with other artists, why is that so prominent in your body of work?

Well aside from "In Good Company" I have 2 cast recordings. "An Enchanted Evening: The Music of Broadway" a concert that I perform with Joanne O'Brien and have been touring with since 1998, and "3 Men and a Baby...Grand: Salute The Rat Pack" another LIVE recording of a concert that features Brian Lane Green and Johnny Rodgers. I love working with other artists!

Your most recent collaboration is with the legendary, Amanda McBroom (Chansons d'Amour, an evening of songs from your CD, Chanteur, and her recent CD, Chanson). Tell me more about that: how did it come about, is it a full tour, and where can people see you together?

I've been friends with Amanda for several years. She approached me to distribute her Jacques Brel CD, "Chanson" which I was thrilled to do. When I recorded "Chanteur" I sent a copy to an arts presenter in Austin and he asked if Amanda and I would team up for an evening. That was the beginning of "Chansons d'amour". We just play the Ford Amphitheatre here in LA, which was just a magical night. I'm not sure what the future holds but it's always a pleasure to share the stage with Amanda.

What will you be working on next?

Catching up on sleep! I've got several concerts with Linda Purl and 3 Men plus taking Chanteur on the road.

You have a growing wealth of artists recording on your label (available at lmlmusic.com), including such well-known artists as Lea Salonga, David Durnham, and Lee Lessack and Amanda McBroom. Can you tell me about a couple of artists with whom we may not be as familiar that we should check out?

Susan Egan has a new CD coming out next month called "The Secret of Happiness" and it's really gorgeous. I also distribute the entire Nancy LaMott catalogue for Midder Music, which I'm very proud of. Nancy was one of the greatest song interpreters of our time and she passed away much too soon.

I couldn’t agree more about Nancy LaMott, pure, delightful, brutal honesty in her interpretation of song with a voice that was always lyrical, beautiful, and moving. She was a master of the cabaret form, and a phenomenally gifted singer. Everyone should own the full catalog of Nancy’s performances. Listen to My Heart is a great option for getting started, if you having been living under a rock and have never heard Nancy’s music. Thanks,

Michael Holland's Putting a Spell on Broadway: An Interview

Several years ago, a friend insisted I had to see Gashole. I actually misread his e-mail invitation as Gash Ole. Turns out, it was not a Mexican drag act. I was too sick to go to the theatre, sneezing and coughing almost non-stop, spraying more toxic air than a beauty-pageant hairdresser. Sitting in the second row, the performers should have had Haz-Mat suits, and I should have stayed home. I’m glad I didn’t. Gashole (aka Michael Holland and Karen Mack) should be regulated by the FDA—they were good medicine. I became an instant fan and make it a point to catch Hole-O-Matic a few times a year. The premise of the Hole experience involves a fish bowl, harmonious wit, witty harmonies, and several dozen songs you don’t know all the words to (and neither do they) filleted, K-tel style, and reassembled into 2-minute comedic plays. Each mash-up is a complete journey. The mad genius behind each musical Frankenstein is Michael Holland, who commands the keys, the guitar strings, and the snark with equal finesse. But Michael is only a partial Gashole. He has now orchestrated his way into the Broadway revival of Godspell at Circle in the Square. Michael is more than the man behind other people’s music, though. He premiered an original musical, Hurricane, at the NYMT festival in 2009 and has released multiple CDs of original music. And there’s so much more to be heard from Michael Holland.
RS: How many years have you been doing Gashole (Hole-O-Matic)? Tell me about the history of that collaboration with Karen Mack?
MH: Unbelievably, Gashole has been terrorizing audiences for ten years now! The short version is that Karen and I were booked to perform at an arts festival in the legendary showbiz mecca of Indiana. They wanted an hour-long set of about a dozen hits from the 70’s – but we were only able to narrow it down to 34, so we just did bits of those, all mushed together. I had recently moved back to the city from Provincetown, where I’d had a group called Comfortable Shoes… a group, it should be mentioned, that I did not name. Anyway, I’d already been experimenting with the phenomenon of mashups with that project – ‘5^th Dementia” is one medley that comes to mind – so I just took the idea a little further for the 70’s gig. The show was a blast, so when we got home we decided to do it at Don’t Tell Mama. Luckily, Sidney Myer, who books the room, decided to let us, and we decided to call it Gashole, for reasons that elude us in retrospect. We planned to run it for three weeks and be done with it, but it proved popular and kept getting extended, so many times that we had to come up with new versions. So we had an 80’s sequel, Ice Gasholes, the seasonally-themed Gashole: Summer Wind (think about it), and our holiday edition, Gasholy Night, among many others. The latest incarnation, Hole-O-Matic, draws on our last decade of mayhem, where the audience designs the show by picking cards from a 130-plus-card Rolodex of mashups, solos and the occasional original tune, and throwing them into a big bowl to be picked at random after we finally show up. It’s all very glamorous.
The two of you have a rapport that is intimate, intuitive, and you seem to entertain one another as much as the audience. Do you think Gas Hole will be an ongoing part of your career regardless of what else happens, and how do you see your collaboration evolving?
Define “career.” We certainly never expected it to last this long, but as long as people keep turning up, who are we to deny them their twisted tastes? From our perspective, the show never gets stale, since it’s different every time, and we’re able to add new material whenever we feel like it, which is fairly often. Besides, the same kinds of things still make us laugh, and we like the same parts of mostly the same songs, so why stop? We’ve been able to develop a loyal if demented following here in New York, but we’ve also had incredible experiences performing in Europe, the Caribbean, and St Paul, Minnesota. Now that’s an itinerary.
You also do solo work. Talk about your solo work and CDs.
I started out on the singer/songwriter track, and was able to release four self-produced CDs on a couple of small labels, from 1993-2003. Most are out of print at the moment, though a couple, Darkness Falls (1999) and Beach Toys Won’t Save You (2003) are available on iTunes and the like. I also arranged and produced Comfortable Shoes’ Happy Joy, not to mention Karen’s disc, Take That. I’ve got enough material in the vaults for another ten albums at least, but lately my fortunes appear to lie elsewhere. I love making the things, and the whole studio process, but I’m not as crazy about the watching-them-trickle-out-of-my-apartment part. Maybe some day I’ll do another, but nothing’s planned for the immediate future….
What was the process of writing Hurricane (your original musical) and getting it produced like?
I got the idea in 2004, while another show I had written music and lyrics for was playing at the New York Fringe Festival. I grew up in Southern New England, and had heard stories about the Great Hurricane of 1938 from relatives all my life. Basically what happened was that a huge hurricane hit the coast of Rhode Island completely unannounced – there was one kid at what was then called the National Weather Bureau who saw it coming, but no one would listen to him. I knew the story, but had never considered musicalizing it till then. As soon as I thought of it, I tried to put it out of my mind as impossible, but the idea kept waking me up in the middle of the night, literally for months, until I caved in and decided to try solving it. Karen had produced the Fringe show, and so with her help, we did a few readings, went through a handful of directors, and eventually wound up with a sold-out NYMF production in 2009.
What is happening with that project?
Well, we made a lot of noise at the festival. A cast of 30 can do that, as well as word that you kill the kids onstage! I mean, come on – 5,6,7,8! So right now I’m in talks with a producing team, trying to map out what’s next. I can’t talk about it much more than that, but stay tuned.
What other original works are you currently working on?
After Godspell opens, I’m supposed to write music and lyrics for a new show, if we can work out the details, but it looks like it’s happening. I’m also writing a new show called Lady, with Eric Bernat, who collaborated with me on the book of Hurricane.
How did your involvement with Godspell come about?
Stephen Schwartz has been a friend for years, and a great supporter of my work. One day I got an email from him, saying something to the effect of “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve submitted your name as a possible orchestrator for the Broadway revival of Godspell.” I mean, the nerve, right? So I had to submit a couple of spec arrangements to the team, and I eventually got the gig.
The show is now in previews. Is your work basically done or are changes being made?
The bulk of it is done, but little tweaks have been happening as all the elements come together. Of course, it’s probable that audience reaction will dictate changes as well, which could mean anything from minor adjustments to full-scale upheaval. But that’s what the preview process is for, and it’s all pretty exciting. The cast is incredible, and they sing their faces off.
With your work in Gashole, you get to play with the best 30 seconds of a song. With Godspell you have to deal with the entire score. What’s that like?
I just take the best 30 seconds of each song, and then repeat 6 times. Actually, these particular songs are as much a part of my musical vocabulary as any of the pop in Gashole. The Godspell cast album was a very important one in my formative years. The main difference between this job and the ‘Hole is that I now have ten voices to play with instead of two, and a whole band of amazing musicians to flesh things out. And I don’t have to be the boss: the musical director is Charlie Alterman, who is brilliant and hilarious – it’s all pretty deluxe. And I have managed to include at least one Gashole-style mashup to the proceedings!...
So, what’s next for you and where can people see you?
Godspell opens at Circle in the Square on November 7, so you can see me there! Gashole will be back up and running shortly thereafter at Don’t Tell Mama (scene of the crime), so check your local listings. Also, I’m hoping in 2012 to put together at least one evening of some of my talented friends singing my songs somewhere; that’s in the planning stages as we speak. And of course, be on the lookout for Hurricane and Lady news… michaelholland.com has been under construction since 2002 – sounds like my motto – but it may actually get born now that I have a real, big-boy job!

A Career in the Theatre: A Profile of Tom Dudzick

Tom Dudzick may be the most successful playwright whose work you've never seen. His first play, Greetings, opened off-Broadway in 1994 during a blizzard. Even though Clive Barnes called the play, "a comic jewel," the blizzard won. The play has become a Christmas staple in regional theatres, and his subsequent plays (including the Over the Tavern triology, Hail Mary, and Don't Talk to the Actors) have had long and frequent runs across the country. Dudzick went global in 2009 when Over the Tavern was adaped for a production in Ireland (called Over the Pub). His backstage comedy Don't Talk to the Actors is currently running in Bucharest, Romania. Many of his plays are set in his hometown of Buffalo, New York and feature characters inspired by relatives or locals from his youth. His latest work, Miracle on South Division Street, has been mounted in readings and a production in upstate New York. It could be your next opportunity to discover Tom Dudzick, who is hoping for an off-Broadway production of that play in the near future.

Seeing the sublimely hysterical production of King of the Moon at the Majestic Theater in West Springfield, Massachusetts, I became an instant fan. So, when the Showshowdown gan started talking about people to watch, I thought of Tom and took the opportunity to ask him a few questions, so you could be introduced to the man in advance of being introduced to his work. 

RS: What has been the difference for you between pursuing a career in the theatre and really making a living in the theatre? 

TD: The pursuit of a career in the theatre was filled with angst, worry, sweat, non-stop writing, meditation with creative visualization and the constant striving to “make it!” Don’t get me wrong, I loved the entire trip. Now that I’ve “made it,” I’m more relaxed and I can channel most of my creative energies into just the writing, because I’ve now made the connections, I have a network of producers who will read what I send them. So much energy in the beginning went into making it over that hump.

The fact that I’m a success with the regional theatres tells me something about myself – these are my people! I think I will have a play in New York (and it will probably be “Miracle on South Division Street”) but the people in that play, and all my plays, are so middle-America. Just regular uncomplicated people trying to make a living and eke out some happiness. And it’s so exciting when I stop and think that, on any given day, one of my plays is going on somewhere in the country. It’s a real kick for me. 

When did the transition start to happen for you, and how did it change your approach to writing? 

The transition from struggling to making it started with “Greetings!” The right person showed up at the right reading (a sit-down reading of “Greetings! with open scripts”) and said, “I’d like to produce your play at my theatre.” That was Greg Houston at the George Street Playhouse in New Jersey. That led to off-Broadway. And that started the whole ball rolling. I don’t know that it changed my approach to writing. But it gave me confidence and encouragement to continue. Back then I was still trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted to say. Which I’m still doing, come to think of it. 

What is your theatrical point of view, and how has it changed over time? 

My theatrical point of view is – tell a compelling story, clearly. It’s really that simple. Make sure the audience knows quickly who they should care about, what are the stakes, who wants what and why, and who doesn’t want him to have it, and what happens if he doesn’t get it. And make sure the hero’s quest is “playworthy,” as they say. It should be worth the trouble of getting all these people up on stage to tell the story, worth an audience paying $45 to come see it. How has it changed over time? It hasn’t. That will always be my rule – get their attention quickly and be clear. 

What are the influences that have shaped your point of view most? 

Watching TV since I was old enough to sit in front of it influenced me. Watching old movies and then eventually seeing plays. Then reading lots and lots of plays. Writing plays coincided with me being in plays – because I wrote plays to appear in. So I became very mindful of what makes people laugh, because I was experiencing it directly. That “being mindful” part is very important. I paid attention and used what worked. Then I just fell into a natural niche. I started emulating the playwrights who impressed and entertained me. Plus I read a million “how to write a play” books, which I still get out and refer to each time I start a new project. 

Your plays are often about family, faith, and mysticism. Is that coincidental? Just common context? Or intentional? If intentional, what's the larger message? 

My plays are about family because it’s what I know best. I can write about it with some authority. And the mysticism you mention – that’s another biggie with me. I love the idea that there is more to life than what we experience with our five senses. And the stage is a fun, exciting place to develop that idea. I can make the “magic” happen in real time, right before our eyes. Everyone loves to spook people out by telling them a ghost story. It’s the same kind of thing with me and the plays. Do I have a larger message? I guess that message would be, “I think there is more to life than what we’ve been led to believe, and I offer you this two-hour glimpse of how I see things. Do with it what you will.” 

What are the theatrical trends that drive you crazy? 

Things within the art form itself don’t really drive me crazy. It’s the show “business” that does it. The idea that we must have a STAR in the play or the audience won’t come, is an example. I don’t see that one going away soon, I’m afraid. Theatrical trends? I used to dislike this trend of 90 minute plays with no intermission. Because it was different. Now I’m writing 90 minute plays with no intermission. Because it still works. I don’t know how the theatres put up with it, though. Aren’t they losing a lot of candy and booze sales during intermission? 

What is your next project? Where could people see your work next? 

My next play is called “Miracle on South Division Street” and I’m hoping for an off-Broadway production soon. It’s a comedy based on a local legend in my old neighborhood in Buffalo. When I was a kid there was this barber who claimed that the Blessed Mother appeared to him. He built a shrine and had a life-size statue of Mary put inside and the whole thing stood next to his barber shop. It was a mini-Lourdes, except the Catholic Church never sanctioned the “miracle.” But the ironic thing is, my old neighborhood is pretty much in ruins now. The church has been torn down. The barber shop is gone – but the shrine is still there! The denizens of the neighborhood keep it in repair. And that’s what my play is about, this family who holds on to this old family “miracle” legend. 

You've had works commissioned. How is the process/approach different for you when you are writing a commissioned piece versus an idea of your own? 

A commission is lovely and extremely encouraging. Someone is paying you to write a play. But with it comes the pressure of having to perform. There’s the time pressure, there’s the idea that it had better be as good as they expect. But I’d never turn one down because of that. “Yes” is always the more interesting answer. 

You are possibly the most disciplined writer I have ever met. Can you talk a little about the balance of discipline, talent, luck, and whatever else you think is key to creating a career in the theatre? 

If I did 100 push-ups every morning, then I would accept the “disciplined” compliment. But as far as writing goes it doesn’t apply because I love to write. I don’t have to force myself into a schedule or any of that. I just wake up in the morning and I want to do it. So I’m very fortunate in that way. Now, you asked about discipline, talent and luck. I don’t believe in luck, so we can cross that one out. To me luck implies “random-ness,” and I don’t believe the Universe does anything in a random fashion. But that’s another discussion. For me, discipline comes into play when I market my work. Because it’s not as much fun as writing. Compiling lists of theatres, submitting, updating, cross-checking, keeping in touch with Artistic Directors, all that good stuff. What motivates me there is common sense, i.e. theatres aren’t going to come to me; I have to reach out to them.

Traces versus Zarkana

There’s something in the water in Montreal. They pump out body-defying acrobatics wrapped in tongue-in-cheek excess like a virus. Despite the shared core, two Canadian exports leaped into town, and they couldn’t be more different. Traces, at the Union Square Theatre, makes Zarkana, at Radio City Music Hall, look like Cirque du So What?

Zarkana is like a bad online date. The poster is attractive, but what meets you at the door is bloated, obnoxious, and several inches short of promise. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, but I just sat there wishing they’d finish already so I could go home.

Traces is a cigarette short of a seal-the-deal first date. It is intimate, sexy, breathtaking, and sweaty. And the hotties on the poster actually showed up. There wasn’t enough body fat on the stage to cook up a 2 piece and a biscuit.

Traces isn’t an evening of never-before-seen tricks. As a matter of fact, there is very little that’s unexpected. What makes the show special is that each performer participates in every act. Many body circus acts show up for 10 minutes, flip physics the bird, and disappear into the wings. The seven artists in Traces weave in and out of the spotlight for 90 minutes, mastering multiple acrobatic styles (poles, chairs, skateboards, tumbling, and jumping) and multiple artistic styles (everyone plays the piano, several sing, and all display comedic charm).

The second, special treat of the evening is that you get to meet the people behind the tricks. They introduce themselves, give you peeks at their individual personalities, and we even get to see baby pictures. That may sound a bit saccharine, but Traces is a full-octane adult beverage. The whole affair gets a little loud occasionally, but it is completely appropriate and expected.

Finally, the show delivers on its promise. The performers execute 100% of the tricks planned. That is not to say they get it right the first time, every time; but you get to see every trick, no cheats. Zarkana, with all its gaudy excesses and endless, overproduced caterwauling, was a disappointment start to finish. At the Union Square Theater, there wasn’t a Trace of disappointment.