Macbeth

photo: Ken Howard

The Met Opera has been on such a roll with their most recent new productions that a bummer was bound to happen sooner or later, and here it is with Adrian Noble's staging of Verdi's Macbeth. The production means to set the story in post WW2 Europe, but the conceit never takes hold thanks to inconsistent visual design. Worse, Noble seems to follow every good idea with a bad one: the moments of simple and effective theatricality (for instance there's a neat effect with a banner during the banquet scene) are ultimately undone by the more common moments of counterproductive theatrical business (for instance, Lady Macbeth's sleepwalking scene happens here on chairs that her attendants keep rearranging so that she doesn't fall: while that may make some poetic sense, it dillutes the scene's dramatic impact). When the beleagured people congregate in the last act to rise up in rebellion, there's a minute of some Les Miserables-like scampering forward before everyone is lined up downstage in bland formation, way too common an occurence in this production. Of course, strong performances could overcome a mediocore presentation like this one, but despite James Levine's tight, tense conducting in the pit, this Macbeth was musically problematic. Cursed with the mismatch of a sometimes vocally underpowered and underplaying Zeljko Lucic in the lead role, and a histronic, screechy overacting Maria Guleghina as Lady Macbeth, the loudest applause at this performance was for Macduff (Dimitri Pittas).

Fuerzabruta

Photo/Fuerzabruta Press

I went to Fuerzabruta expecting to be titillated, amazed, and yes, frightened: brute force, when exercised properly, does all that. Unfortunately, while the show (by Diqui James, a co-founder of De La Guarda) is wildly inventive, it's pretty tame, more a vivid expo (it's even set in a cavernous space, amidst a self-made mob of people) than a finished product. There are moments that will take your breath away, as when what is essentially an gigantic adult Slip 'n' Slide is lowered to just inches from the audience's heads, leaving them to gently brush against its playful dryads. Or when a giant kite with rock-climbing footholds is spun around violently by the fearless stagehands, making the two performers pinned to it seem trapped in a tornado. Or the appeal of watching two dancers cartwheel vertically across a shimmering plastic wall (which assumes both that you find that appealing and that you haven't seen that trick before). These events are loosely tied together by a lot of screaming, dancing, and raving, but these moments grow repetitious and far too forced and artificial. Nothing develops naturally because there isn't actually a story to tell: instead, there's just an increasingly desperate attempt to make a mountain out of a molehill (a really, really technically impressive molehill). While watching our nameless hero run yet again on a giant treadmill rolling its way into the middle of the audience, I found myself paying more attention to the young man next to me who, wide-eyed and gripping his girlfriend for balance, was quite obviously on something far more potent than I. For all that there were high powered fans spinning in my direction, I was far from blown away by anything other than the engaging use of the crowd itself to make a variety of pictures on the stage.

Hoodoo Love

Preview; Opens 11/1.

Photo/Jaisen Crockett - Art Meets Commerce

A big smile came to my face when grandmotherly Candy Lady turned out to be full of sugar, talking about how menstruating into a man's coffee is the best way to keep him from going anywhere. That kind of brash writing is not just clever, it's illuminating and sharp. But the downside to Katori Hall's evocative script is that the plot isn't at all provocative: the climaxes are telegraphed (one might even say that they're faked) and the story itself, despite dealing with hoodoo and being set in 1930's Memphis, isn't anything special. So far as presentation goes, Hall is at her best when building up to the storm, writing some terse moments into otherwise innocuous scenes, as when Ace of Spades, the blues singer bewitched by conjuror Candy Lady into falling in love with the not-so-innocent-just-naive Toulou, confronts Toulou's older brother, Jib, over a game of two-handed spades. The poison in the flask that they're wagering over is superfluous; what really matters is the way in which Ace of Spades becomes convinced that Toulou's baby is Jib's, not his. That's fine acting, and when it's unobstructed by the direction (which at times overextends) or by the script's hasty resolutions, Hoodoo Love works well. But right now, it's only as catchy as the occasional beats of the blues songs; to evoke is not enough: it needs to provoke as well.

[Read on] [Also blogged by: Patrick]

Milk 'n' Honey

Photo/Benjamin Heller

Like a chef's tasting menu, LightBox uses Milk 'n' Honey as a food-oriented pulpit to cram a lot of diverse theater down your throat. It's all quite agreeable, it's delectably plated (with a multimedia bent), and the servers are talented actors (as most waiters are, ha!), but the lack of a main course is ultimately a little unsatisfying. All of the different plots and characters on display made me feel engorged, and too much of the very real drama seemed mined for comedy (such as the excerpts from Michael Pollan's excellent The Omnivore's Dilemma). More digestible perhaps, and certainly more theatrical, but not very potent. Given all the loose ends, portions of the show seemed like fast food, but all the pieces together were a hearty meal that, while not wholly filling, were certainly interesting to try.

[Read on]

Urinetown

Although the show is not open for review (a policy I'm going to honor as I did last year at their Pippin) I dropped in on the NYU/CAP21 college production of Urinetown, one of my favorite musicals of recent years. What knocks me out when I see their musicals is the abundance of fresh, eager music theatre talent; some of these folks will doubtlessly go on to careers in musicals and I'll be able to say that I saw them when.

Speech and Debate

Photo/Joan Marcus

It's not debatable, though you're more than welcome to make a speech in the comments box below: Speech and Debate is the funniest topical drama of the year. Where else can you find the story of a queenie time-traveler accidentally getting Abel killed by outing him alongside the very real dramas of gender identity, sexual molestation, and the psychological damage of being closeted? It's all framed by the different topics of an actual Speech and Debate event, which allows young playwright Stephen Karam to give us extemporaneous thought in a video blog or to use cross examination as a narrative thrust. It also allows an easy transition from light and open-minded to critical and dramatic, something that's very well done by director Jason Moore, who knows a thing or two (from Avenue Q) about indulging quirks while still being truthful. The only thing that rings a bit false is the acting, which is so exaggerated at times by Sarah Steele's eyebrows of Jason Fuchs's face-pulling (he should be in 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee) that it seems a little too self-aware and glib to stay serious. But they're so committed to it, so seriously "hopeless" that even these meta-moments become endearing, and only serve to further connect us (already pretty close, given the intimacy of the Black Box Theater). Some nitpicking seems de rigueur for a show that boldly traverses comedy and drama so well, but I wouldn't want to risk discouraging anyone from seeing this delightful show. This is good, topical theater, done professionally, and ticketed cheaply ($20), so get going!

[Read on] [Also blogged by: David]