Barbecue

Constance Shulman, Arden Myrin
Photo: Joan Marcus

As Elizabeth Wollman points out below, Barbecue is a challenging show to review. Almost anything one could write about it would be a spoiler.

I am only posting about it here to say this: Go see Barbecue. It is funny, surprising, insightful, and thought-provoking. (It is also about 20 minutes too long, and it occasionally goes for cheap humor. However, its strengths truly tower over its weaknesses.)

(member ticket; 2nd row)

Razzle Dazzle: The Battle for Broadway (book review)

It's difficult to review Michael Riedel's Razzle Dazzle because it's difficult to figure out exactly what he's trying to accomplish. In the author's note, he writes that the book is about the struggle by the Shuberts and the Nederlanders to save Broadway in the 1970s. In the first chapter, where nonfiction generally sets the stage for the rest of the book, he focuses on "ice," or the money box office treasurers made in the 1960s by selling tickets, above list price, to brokers. The book then dips into the history of the Shuberts and Nederlanders, the takeover of the Shuberts by Bernard Jacobs and Gerald Schoenfeld, the rivalry between Nine and Dreamgirls, Michael Bennett's prodigious drug use, the effect of AIDS on Broadway, David Merrick's tricks, the development of A Chorus Line, the English invasion of Broadway, the Disneyification of Broadway, and so on.

In other hands, this breadth of content could be a selling point. But the chronology is random and awkward, and Riedel does not handle the transitions with a sure hand. Even worse, Razzle Dazzle lacks an overall theme. Nor does it have the sort of insight that can make reading nonfiction worthwhile.

Instead, the book is a haphazard collection of gossip that Riedel has collected over the years and in various interviews, with his signature focus on the petty, the nasty, and the mean. As I was reading it, I kept thinking, "Was everyone on Broadway really this juvenile, this stupid, this unforgiving, this narrow-minded?" And I kept reminding myself, "It's Riedel. This is what he likes to write about." And I also kept wondering, as I often do when I read his column or watch his TV show, "Does this guy even like theatre?"

Sylvia

Annaleigh Ashford garnered praise and a Tony nomination for her scene-stealing work in Kinky Boots; a year later, she walked away with the prize for her dizzyingly satisfying turn as Essie Carmichael in an otherwise banal revival of You Can't Take It With You. The occupational hazard of being a brilliant supporting performer is that one can end up fenced into the sidelines, never given the chance to shine in a leading role. And, of course, there are those whose talents don't translate to the ability to carry a production (I'm reminded of the usually wonderful character actor Michael Park, who floundered when tasked with leading Atlantic Theatre Company's revival of The Threepenny Opera). When it was announced that Ashford would headline the Broadway premiere of A.R. Gurney's sweetly funny 1995 play Sylvia, I found myself excited and trepidacious. Would her quirky comic style extend widely enough to cover this fairly substantial role? Or would it become clear that her gifts are best sampled in small doses?

I don't know why I worried. Ashford's Sylvia is a marvel, and one of the most ebulliently joyous comic performances I've witnessed in years. The role is tricky -- in case you didn't know, the lady in question is a an anthropomorphized dog -- and some of Gurney's humor can feel middlebrow. Ashford transcends any weakness in the writing, offering a master class in physical comedy, pitch-perfect timing, and even surprising subtlety.

Bound for Broadway XVI

Part of the yearly Broadway Close Up series, Bound for Broadway presents songs from new musicals that may or may not actually be "bound for Broadway" (only time will tell). Past shows that made the promised land include Avenue Q, Next to Normal, High Fidelity, The Drowsy Chaperone, It Shoulda Been You, and Now. Here. This. Also, a few shows have appeared Off-Broadway (e.g., Musical, the Musical and Murder for Two). This is not a high success rate considering that over 100 shows have been featured, but there is something sweetly aspirational about retaining the name Bound for Broadway. After all, as poet Robert Browning pointed out, "A man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?"

Bound for Broadway host Liz Callaway

This year's show presented four wanna-bes: The More Things Change, with book and lyrics by Kellen Blair and music by Joe Kinosian; LMNOP, with book and lyrics by Scott Burkel and music by Paul Loessel; The Remarkable Journey of Prince Jen, with book and lyrics by Lezlie Wade and music by Daniel Green; and Amelie, with book by Craig Lucas, lyrics by Nathan Tysen, and music by Dan Messé.

The more interesting shows were LMNOP and Amelie. The press release describes LMNOP as follows: "When letters begin to fall from a monument in town, government officials ban them one by one. Chaos ensues until a determined teenage girl rallies the community to fight for freedom of speech. This unique musical is part romance, part clever word game and part adult fable that reminds us of how precious our liberties are; how quickly unbridled extremism can take them from us; and how important it is to have the courage to stand up for what we believe." The two songs presented had clever lyrics and were wryly inviting.

Cloud Nine

Cloud Nine, Caryl Churchill's brilliant riff on sexual politics, colonialism, identity, and love, is receiving an excellent revival at the Atlantic, directed with a sure hand by James Macdonald. As the Playbill explains, "Act I takes place in a British Colony in Africa in Victorian Times. Act II takes place in London in 1979. But for the characters, it is 25 years later." This is not the only device that Churchill utilizes. Women are played by men, and vice versa; a doll plays a baby; a white man plays a black man. Years before people wrote about "performing gender," Churchill made the concept unmistakably vivid.

Chris Perfetti as Betty, Izzie Steele as Ellen
Photo: Doug Hamilton

In Act I, Betty, the mother, Clive, the father, Edward, the son, Victoria, the daughter, and Maud, Betty's mother, live in Africa, where Clive happily and pompously takes on the "white man's burden." He sees himself as the adult in all situations, and the others, including Clive's "boy," Joshua, seem to agree. But Betty chafes under her limitations; Joshua is not what he seems; and Edward wants to play with dolls. Enter Harry Bagley, the dashing, and omnisexual, explorer, along with a "native uprising," and all assumptions start to fray.

Fool For Love

Sam Shepard's Fool For Love is a strange, searing play. Although it takes place in real time, in the stark and unforgiving Western landscape the author so often favors, one cannot shake the feeling that the play is part dream, part nightmare. Does the dusty motel room occupied by May (Nina Arianda) truly exist? Is her long-lost cowboy lover, Eddie (Sam Rockwell), recently returned from a long absence, a figment of her imagination? And who, exactly, is the old man (Gordon Joseph Weiss) who haunts the periphery?

The weirdness that can make this work thrilling also renders its execution beastly. The two central actors need to be in perfect syncopation; the play's single act (70 minutes) must unfurl at a breathless clip. The director must strike a delicate balance between realism and fantasy. Robert Altman took too heavy a hand in the 1985 film version, starring Shepard and Kim Basinger. When watched today, it comes across as an unintentional comedy. A 2006 London production starring Juliette Lewis drew poor reviews. What, then, would be the fate of its long-awaited Broadway debut, at Manhattan Theatre Club's Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, under the direction of Daniel Aukin?

Barbecue

Barbecue, Robert O'Hara's twisty, turny play at the Public, is a show I don't want to write extensively about for fear of giving any of the many Big Reveals away. So I won't say much of anything at all, except that the show makes me even sorrier than I was before to have missed Bootycandy last year. And that with Barbecue, O'Hara says a number of clever, layered things about race, class, representation, and the media. And that the play is very, very funny. And that the cast is, to a one, committed, appealing, and probably all loading up big-time on vitamin B and throat lozenges, what with all the wackiness and antics and herbal cigarettes and shouting (not to mention the occasional tasing). And that there is nothing more wonderful--or, goddamn it, more rare--than watching a play that treats all of its characters pretty equally--even if that means with equal amounts of snark--while sitting amid a truly diverse audience, the members of which seemed to take as much pleasure in the play as I did. Why is that so fucking hard?

Joan Marcus

I have a few--um--bones to pick about Barbecue: even with some of the Big Reveals in mind, the first act felt a little shrill, and in general, making the poor and uneducated the butt of extended jokes--however equally applied thouse jokes are--seems pretty cheap. But the ensemble work here is excellent--so is the direction and the set, which I dismissed as fairly dull at first and then somehow fell for midway through. And for my quibbles, the play's a genuine hoot. So if I happen to land on the most brilliant, deep, moving, and paradigm-shifting show at some point during my theatergoing adventures, I'll be sure to let you know. Meanwhile, Barbecue will do just fine.

The Christians

Lucas Hnath's The Christians, which has recently been extended through mid-October at Playwrights Horizons, is a compelling play about contemporary evangelical Christianity. It asks a number of interesting and complicated questions about religion as a means to unite and to divide, to connect and to alienate, to sustain and to harm. It also touches on the need for religions to grow and change in order to adapt to the contemporary world, and on altogether more earthly matters: building maintenance, membership numbers, mortgages, money. It is not a perfect play, but it is a very good one, which is worth seeing for the questions it raises, its conception and direction, its strong and committed cast, and its totally excellent megachurchy set.

Joan Marcus

At the start of the play, which begins with a few energetic (if seriously underharmonized) numbers by the church choir, Pastor Paul (an appropriately soothing Andrew Garman) delivers a sermon in celebration of his huge church's final mortgage payment. Professing a spiritual crisis that began when he learned of a boy who gave up his own life to save his sister from a burning building, he announces to his congregants that such a boy should not be damned to Hell because he was not a Christian. Even further, he informs them, he no longer believes in the concept of Hell and feels that no one in his congregation should, either.

Cinderella

The intimate atmosphere of the Minetta Lane Theater -- a venue that seats just under 400 -- provides a perfect place for Company XIV's 2015-2016 season. With their signature slinky and sexy dances, the venue heightens the voyeuristic nature of the Company's burlesque-infused take on classics such as Cinderella, their first offering, running from September 22-November 15th.

From the moment the audience enters the space, spectacle begins with scantily clad chorus girls and boys erasing the fourth wall, a trait you see often in Company XIV productions, as they peer into mirrors and recline on chairs before the "performance." This re-imagined version of Charles Perrault's Cinderella also showcases artistic director/founder Austin McCormick's knack for offering familiar narratives blended alluringly with opera, circus, vaudeville, cabaret and Baroque dance (Who else would feature the step-sisters singing Irving Berlin's "Sisters" in German while wearing a conjoined twins/sumo wrestler suit?).

                                          The cast of Cinderella/Photo credit: Phillip Van Nostrand

Like vaudeville, which challenged class and racial values with the diversity of its acts while still maintaining its audience's interest,  McCormick's choreography and direction explores sexuality in an open, ambitious way that might feel uncomfortable to mainstream folk even as they remain undeniably entertained. The cast contains an androgynous appearance featuring heavy makeup (by Sarah Cimino) that gives them a soft, other worldly look and costumes designed by Zane Pihlstrom and seemingly inspired by Las Vegas, Victoria Secrets and the Moulin Rouge (gilded thong, check; nipple glitter, check; garter belts, check; angel wings, check). Often, it is enough just to gape at the beauty of the actors and their lean, Grecian-statue-like bodies. McCormick exploits this by allowing performers to linger on stage, posing between scenes and acting as silent narrators as they hold chalkboards above their head, which contain scene details.

The cast is strong, especially Marcy Richardson (as the step-sister) who makes pole-dancing while singing opera more sexy than strange and Davon Rainey as the stepmother. He deliciously dominates the stage with his animalistic poses, lean look, over-the-top headresses and diva-like attitude (think Grace Jones in her heyday), making the most of the evil role while delivering some beautiful dancing that makes his ballet background apparent. Cinderella (Allison Ulrich) looks vulnerable in all she does, from becoming a table for her step family's use to meeting her fey prince (Steven Trumon Gray). This fragility offers a delicate version of the character, but also makes her appear wan in comparison to the more vivid personalities in the performance.

Cinderella also has vaudeville's pastiche quality: the audience always has something to look at. Here's another number. Another bit. During intermissions (and there are two), the show continues (so don't linger at the bar). Even the act of wiping down the stripper pole in preparation for the next scene becomes an exercise in expression. But that madcap variety doesn't always work. Some of the intermission pieces, especially a spirited mambo and a feisty, fun-filled cast dance party, captivate more than the main show -- which at two-and-a-half-hours and three acts is too long. The ball, for example features multiple dance numbers when one strong number would suffice.

Next up in the season is the revival of the holiday show Nutcracker Rouge (Nov. 24—Jan. 17, 2016), an erotic version of The Nutcracker, followed by the the world premiere of Snow White (Jan. 26—March 12, 2016).

(Press ticket, orchestra)

See Company XIV work, here:

The New Morality

Harold Chapin's The New Morality, the slight but delightful piece from 1915 currently on view at The Mint, resembles an Oscar Wilde play if Wilde wrote about (almost) real people.

Brenda Meaney
Photo: Richard Termine

Betty Jones has taken to her bed and refused a meal to perform a level of repentance she doesn't feel. Her crime? She unloaded on Muriel, the woman with whom her husband has been flirting all summer. She acknowledges to her good friend Alice that some of her language would be better left to dog shows, and she admits that she was probably pretty loud. She thanks Alice for visiting at risk to her own reputation.

And then Muriel's husband Wallace shows up, demanding that Betty apologize.

Chapin uses this thin plot as a skeleton for discussions of sexual politics, society, and the meaning of fidelity. He fleshes it out with scores of very funny lines. His take on sexual politics is fascinating, since it exists in a world that probably never was: the gorgeous homes of independently wealthy people, taken care of by servants, where women rule the roost and men fecklessly try to figure them out. Chapin ignores the true power that men have and had, particularly 100 years ago, yet there is a level on which his sense of sexual politics is advanced and even vaguely feminist. (Chapin was killed in World War I, one of the millions of tragic casualties of that stupid and useless war, so there's no way of knowing how his work would have developed.)

Show Showdown Theatre Links Updated

In a long-needed piece of housekeeping, we have updated our list of Theatre Links in the right-hand column of this blog (scroll down). If you'd like us to add your theatre blog/website to our list, please put the info in the comment section of this post. Thanks.--Wendy Caster

Cameron Kelsall Joining Talkin' Broadway

I am pleased to announce that I will be joining Talkin' Broadway as a contributing critic. I will be covering theatrical productions in New Jersey and Philadelphia. Although I can't provide a firm date at this time, I expect to begin filing reviews sometime in the very near future. I will continue to serve in my capacity as a contributor for Show Showdown. -- Cameron Kelsall

Hollywood Arms

There are two ways of looking at the anniversary reading of Carrie Hamilton and Carol Burnett's Hollywood Arms at Merkin Hall last night. As an event, it was a huge success. Just getting to see Burnett on stage and express our love for her was a major treat. She received a wonderful, slowly-evolving ovation. People clapped and cheered, and one by one, began to stand as we realized that the applause and cheers weren't enough. It took a long standing O to acknowledge the tremendous joy that Burnett has brought into our lives.

Emily Skeggs, William Jackson Harper, Cotter Smith, Michele Pawk, Tyne Daly,
Sydney Lucas, Caleb McLaughlin, Anthony Edwards, Jenny Jules, Will Pullen
Photo: Paul Zimmerman/WireImage

And just seeing the cast--Tyne Daly, Michele Pawk, Emily Skeggs and Sydney Lucas of Fun Home (once again playing the same character), Cotter Smith, and Anthony Edwards--walk on stage was exciting.

The desnudas in Times Square

I wrote a thing for OUP blog, and figured I'd share it here. It's about the "painted ladies" in Times Square, the history of that particularly raunchy neighborhood, and how silly this news story is.

Spring Awakening

Two young women reflect each other through a mirror. One is dark-haired and slight, with a deeply expressive face. The other is blond and fuller-bodied, with a guitar strapped to her back. They both sing: one uses her voice; the other, her hands. Despite their differences, there is no question that they reflect the same person. This is how Deaf West's extraordinary production of Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater's Spring Awakening announces itself.

photo: Kevin Parry

Directed by the actor Michael Arden, this revival of the 2006 musical -- currently playing at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre, after a successful run in Los Angeles -- puts the action in the context of the 1880 Second International Conference on Education of the Deaf, which occurred a decade prior to the publication of Franz Wedekind's Spring's Awakening, on which the musical is based. Known colloquially as the Milan Conference, it banned the teaching of sign language in favor of lip reading and oralism. Assimilation was prescribed as the only answer to the "deaf question;" those who could not essentially pass for hearing had no place in society.

Wendy Caster Now Theatre Writer for Art Times

I'm pleased to announce that I now have the honor of being the theatre writer for Art Times, where I will write essays most months. Here's a link to the latest issue. And here's a link to the Art Times website.

And here is a taste of my first essay, "The New Audience: How a Culture Evolves."

In Shakespeare’s day, heckling was common. The groundlings (people who bought cheap tickets and stood right in front of the stage) flirted, argued, got drunk, and even urinated right there, while the show was going on. The wealthier people carried on their own intrigues in the more expensive seats, including the hiring of prostitutes.  

I would have hated it. Patti LuPone would have hated it more! But it was the accepted theatre-going culture of its time. 

(read more--on page 11 of the pdf)

I will of course continue to review shows here.

Desire

At first glance, The Acting Company's production of Desire would seem to be an evening of works by Tennessee Williams. After all, the six one-acts are ostensibly based on his short stories, and they burst with Williams-isms: the explosive horror of thwarted desire, needy heartbroken women, scared homosexual men, people unable to defy the world's expectations, glass figurines, even cannibalism. But the one acts offer us Williams' sensibility by way of Beth Henley, Elizabeth Egloff, John Guare, Marcus Gardley, David Grimm, and Rebecca Gilman. These playwrights bring much of themselves to the plays, and many of the results are vibrant, vigorous hybrids.

Mickey Theis, Juliet Brett
“The Resemblance Between a Violin
 Case and a Coffin”
Photo: Carol Rosegg

The evening begins with Beth Henley's "The Resemblance Between a Violin Case and a Coffin." Williams' short story is narrated by Tom, a young man uncomfortable with his homosexual urges and crushed by the loss of his older sister Roe--his one friend--to womanhood. Henley moves the focus to Roe, with Tom more of a supporting character, even giving Roe some of Tom's words. She retains, however, the focus on the high price of sexual desire.

When Richard Miles comes into their lives, his beauty and light throws both siblings for a loop. In the play, Tom's discomfort with his attraction to Richard is played somewhat for laughs, while in the short story Tom feels himself to be a monster. Roe's challenges remain the same. Simply put, her attraction to Richard takes away her power as surely as Samson's haircut removed his.

The Legend of Georgia McBride

The Legend of Georgia McBride is maybe not the deepest show out there, but it's great fun, nonetheless. Performed by a committed cast whose kind, well-meaning characters are impossible not to root for, McBride relies on a few unexpected plot turns and character motivations to steer clear of the cliches it regularly threatens to sink into. I expected to be indifferent about the show at best, but I left hoping everyone else who sees it has as much fun with it as I did. It's a sweet, charming hoot.

The Legend of Georgia McBride

The MCC Theater’s latest offering, The Legend of Georgia McBride, shows drag queens at work: those who dress up as a sparkly symbol of protest against discrimination; those who are just born for a life of high heels and sequined evening gowns; and those who find that their best male selves lie in the lip-synced songs of a woman.

Matt McGrath, Keith Nobbs and Dave Thomas Brown. Photo credit: Joan Marcus

When Casey (Dave Thomas Brown) discovers his Elvis impersonator act at Cleo’s, a backwater bar in Florida, will be replaced by a drag queen show he only agrees to stay on as bartender because there is a baby on the way for him and his wife, Jo (Afton Williamson). It’s the same reason he dresses up in drag to do an Edith Piaf number when a regular cast member, Rexy Nervosa (Keith Nobbs), goes on a bender. He awkwardly moves through the song, coached by drag queen extraordinaire Tracy Mills (Matt McGrath, who also appeared in the Denver Center for the Performing Arts premiere). By the third night, though, Casey is something of an expert impersonator and he find he enjoys performing as much as the money, a fact he cannot confess to his wife.

This gem of a show pleasantly explores the nature of self and the transformative power of fantasy, and while no surprising insight is revealed, the characters seem real and likeable. As their personal epiphanies are slowly unveiled, an unexpected emotional punch underlines the simplicity of playwright Matthew Lopez’s plot. Plus, the performances, directed by Mike Donahue (who also directed the show’s 2014 Denver premiere) are just oh-so much fun to watch.

Seeing Casey transform from bad Elvis to country vixen, mouthing tunes by hit makers such as Dolly Parton and Tammy Wynette, is pure entertainment. If Thomas Brown wasn’t slated to play Michael on the first national tour of The Bridges of Madison County this fall, he could give up conventional acting and become a full-time drag queen … if he wanted.  Equally terrific is the supporting cast, especially McGrath, whose exuberant sweetness always hints at the steel that lies beneath the middle-aged queen.

The production staff utilizes all the assets of the Lucille Lortel Theatre’s small space—transforming it seamlessly from Casey’s apartment to Cleo’s dressing room and stage, with all the glittery upgrades as the drag show gains momentum. There’s no curtain; even as the audience enters the theatre, the show begins with the staff in headsets, moving on and off  the stage as they roll in dressing racks and check the goods in the refrigerator.  

The scenic design by Donyale Werle exposes a tired watering hole with simple details, such as the shining, mismatched holiday lights that add a bit of sparkle, despite the insinuation that this establishment is the type that leaves their decorations out all year. Adding to the glitz and fantasy of the drag show are costumes by Anita Yavich and makeup/wig design by Jason Hayes, which transform Dave Thomas Brown into a true star and, as his pregnant wife eventually laments, a woman prettier than her.

Its New York premiere may be short-lived (August 20-October 4) but hopefully, this sweet show with sharp dialogue will come back again.

(Press tickets, orchestra).

Mercury Fur

I find it hard to believe that Philip Ridley's Mercury Fur -- written in 2005, but just now receiving its New York premiere, under the auspices of The New Group -- caused such ire upon its original London bow that the critic Charles Spencer to basically call Ridley a pervert and the author's regular publisher, Faber and Faber, refused to issue the text in print. After all, the play premiered a decade after Sarah Kane's Blasted, a truly unsettling piece that actually simulated rape, mutilation and cannibalism in full view. Horrible things are the purview of this dystopian drama, but the vehicle is almost entirely talk. The talk is laced with fucks and cunts, but it's hardly shocking on the language or the content level. The play portrays a post-apocalyptic world in which any fantasy can be bought for the right price; brothers Elliot (Zane Pais) and Darren (Jack DiFalco) facilitate these encounters and act as purveyors of the drug-du-jour, taken in the form of butterflies.

photo: Michelle V. Agins

I won't reveal the particular fantasy being bought in Mercury Fur, though other critics have. But I will say that by the time it becomes clear -- after nearly two intermissionless hours -- it's hard not to feel that the playwright hasn't earned the shock he's trying to sell. Ridley is obsessed with the minutiae of life in a dystopia -- surviving in a nightmarish landscape becomes just as boring as trying to climb the corporate ladder. But does his writing and the action that surrounds it (Pais and DiFalco spend much of the play's first half-hour cleaning an apartment, doing little else) have to actually be so boring in order to portray banality?

Although the acting is largely good -- Tony Revolori (late of The Grand Budapest Hotel) and Paul Iacono (apparently playing a cisgender woman, for reasons never fully understandable) are particular standouts -- the play never catches fire. And it never feels disquieting. The best works of art in this genre should make you question the darker aspects of your own society. That is something Mercury Fur simply doesn't achieve.

[discounted ticket, almost impossible to accurately describe my seat given the theater's current configuration]