Show Showdown's Tony Picks (Not All of Which Are "Hamilton")

If you are a reader of this blog, we probably don't have to tell you that early June means the annual Tony awards. Even if you are not a reader of this blog, we also probably don't have to tell you that Hamilton is up for a record-breaking 16 awards, and that it will very well end up getting most of them. But wait! That doesn't mean the broadcast will be dull! There have been some remarkable shows and performances on Broadway (and beyond) this year, and we’re looking forward to seeing excerpts on tv--and finding out who wins in some of the non-Hamilton categories. Plus, who knows? Major upsets happen sometimes, so it's not over 'til it's over--or at least 'til Burr takes deadly aim.

Without further ado, then, Show Showdown's humble contributors offer you our Tony predictions--and much, much more!---after the jump and this fetching picture of James Corden holding a Tony and maybe talking or singing to it.

Universal Robots

Stephen Hawking: The real risk with AI isn’t malice but competence. A superintelligent AI will be extremely good at accomplishing its goals, and if those goals aren’t aligned with ours, we’re in trouble.

According to an interview in the New York Times, the exceptional playwright Mac Rogers would seem to disagree with Stephen Hawking. He says, “If you know how long it takes to get a robot to cross a room, the last thing you’re scared of is that they’re going to turn against you.”

Cheek, Howard
Photo: Deborah Alexander

And it's true that today's robots seem unlikely to rule the world; robotic salamanders and vacuum cleaners just aren't the stuff of nightmares. Yet in the wonderful Universal Robots, Rogers shows us how we could end up in the world of Stephen Hawking's fears (and Bill Gates's and Elon Musk's). How? Tiny innocent step by tiny innocent step.

Rizing

The setting is familiar: a 12-step-program-type support group. A woman stands, says, "Hello, my name is Mica, and I'm Z-positive," and everyone else says, "Hi, Mica." Does "Z-positive" perhaps remind you of "HIV-positive"? It's supposed to. The Z stands for zenoplasmosis, an infectious agent that turns people into zombies in "post-zombiepocalypse America." Does the "zeno" remind you of "xeno," as in "xenophobia"? It's supposed to.

Rahn, Lathon, Spielmann, Sanyal, Aulisi
Photo: Isaiah Tanenbaum

Jason Tseng's Rizing, directed by Emily Hartford and presented by the fabulous Flux Theatre Ensemble, exists as both an entertaining zombie drama and a less successful allegory for the treatment of HIV-positive people and (from the playwright's note in the program) "other people marginalized and oppressed by our hegemonic society: communities of color, Muslims, immigrants and refugees..."

Random roundup: The Father, Turn Me Loose, The Crucible

The Father, Florian Zeller's very good play (in very good translation by Christopher Hampton) is worth seeing both for the tricks it plays on the audience and for Frank Langella's riveting, pitch-perfect performance. Often, plays about dementia don't just tug but rip at the heartstrings--about three years ago, Sharr White's The Other Place , which also ran at the Friedman Theater, hit me so hard that I found myself openly sobbing at the curtain call, which I can assure you doesn't happen all that often with me. Oh, except as a kid, I remember having about the same reaction to Driving Miss Daisy. 

I've had my fair share of experience with dementia: it afflicted both my grandmothers, one of whom lived with and gradually declined from the disease for the better part of a decade. Several extended family members had it, and my father-in-law has the honor now. I'm sure I'm hardly atypical in this respect, but anyway, plays about the subject almost always set me off. So while I was eager to see Langella onstage for once, I steeled myself for The Father to hit me hard--but it didn't. This is not a play that seems written or directed to kick one's emotions in the groin. Rather, The Father struck me as a remarkably accurate, almost clinical examination of Alzheimer's, which allows the audience to ponder the ways the disease works from the perspective of the afflicted. I very much appreciated the ways the production plunged the audience into the kinds of anxiety and confusion the titular character, named Andre, experiences over the course of 90 engaging minutes. I don't want to give any of the gimmicks away, but they are all creative, subtle, well-executed and appropriately disorienting. The Father doesn't aim to make clean, straightforward narrative sense; I remain unsure who some of the characters were, or whether they even existed beyond the fragmented mind of Andre, who, like many people with dementia, frequently shift rapidly between different time periods or exist in several at once, confusing one person or place or thing for another. The strengths of the production and its performances thus don't lie in character development and plot trajectory, but that doesn't mean there isn't an abundance of strengths to be found.

Shuffle Along

The...um....reconception? reconstruction? reconsideration?...of the 1921 hit show Shuffle Along, currently at the Music Box Theater (which, by the way, also opened in 1921), has some of the best dancing you'll see on a Broadway stage this season (or any), and a top-notch cast featuring some of the most well-known and beloved stars of the genre. There are some truly stunning production numbers, some laugh-out-loud gags, and a lot of warmth. I couldn't stop smiling through the entire first act, and while I struggled more with the second, I'd hardly call it a crashing bore by any stretch. I have studied the original show and thought enough about it that I think my reaction to the current production is tainted by my own ideas about what it should have been and what it should have focused on. Which is, in the end, my problem--a really weird occupational hazard befitting one with a really weird occupation--and hardly that of the production, which is fun and moving, maybe more so without preconceived notions.

Here's the thing: The original production of Shuffle Along is enormously important--a landmark musical that served, too, as a humbling reminder of just how hard it was for black artists to find success in overwhelmingly white entertainment realms (which at the time was basically every realm). While not the first Broadway show to feature an all-black cast and creative team (that was In Dahomey in 1903), it was certainly one of the biggest and most influential. Its enormous success was a bigger deal considering just how much it was up against. Shuffle Along was created and developed after Broadway's earliest black pioneers--a previous generation of performers and creative artists like Bert Williams, George Walker, Ida Overton Walker, Paul Laurence Dunbar, Will Marion Cook, Robert Cole, and James Rosamond Johnson--had died or quit Broadway, leaving behind a bunch of white producers who collectively decided, against ample and repeated evidence to the contrary, that all-black productions were not much worth backing, anyway, since the middle and upper-class whites who made up (and continue to make up) the majority of Broadway audiences wouldn't be interested in black productions.

The School for Scandal

Same as it ever was, same as it ever was.

Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s The School For Scandal, first performed in 1777, reveals that humans have changed little over the centuries, clothing and make-up aside. Sheridan's deliciously despicable characters would slip perfectly into the 21st-century world of gossip blogs, truthiness, and schadenfreude-as-blood sport.

The play's plot is thinner than thin, but the characters are full-throated, puffed-up, and blissfully cartoony. Take Mrs. Candour, about whom it is said, "...whenever I hear the current running against the characters of my friends, I never think them in such danger as when Candour undertakes their defense." As perfectly embodied by Dana Ivy, Mrs. Candour lives up to a description from the The Sweet Smell of Success: "a cookie full of arsenic." Not only could I see her holding court at 21 in that film, but I can also picture her keeping a Sunday brunch full of gay men in delighted hysterics for hours.

What I Did Last Summer (And Fall and Winter and Spring)

From April 2015 to March 2016, I served as a judge on the Lortel Awards, which recognize excellence in the Off Broadway theater. The term was a little daunting--I was told to expect (and ultimately was invited to) just over 100 shows over the course of the year. I missed a few--a couple closed before I could get to them, a couple press agents never got back to me--but I saw nearly all of them. Just before I was asked, my year-long sabbatical was approved and I had been planning to see a lot of theater during leave anyway, so the invitation seemed particularly fortuitous. Plus, while I'm lucky that my husband usually likes having me around, he insisted that he and our kids would survive--perhaps even thrive--despite the fact that I'd often not be around to warm up leftovers or mumble distractedly at them while staring at the computer, so I took him at his word.

Before I accepted the gig, I asked a friend and colleague who has judged the Lortels in the past if he recommended it. He did--and added that while it is indeed an enormous commitment, it was also a rare chance to see a lot of shows one wouldn't otherwise, and was thus "a great education." Figuring that it would be seriously lame for a scholar to turn down something educational, I submitted my name and contact information to the Lortel Foundation. Thus commenced the deluge of press invites to Off Broadway shows, which lasted the year, peaking (with surprising intensity) in March before halting entirely when my term elapsed.

I spent much of the past year bouncing from one production to another, seeing one or two--and occasionally more like five or six--Off Broadway shows a week. I took notes on the shows I saw; my notes ranged from lengthy paragraphs about character and direction and lighting, to one- or two-word dismissals or superlatives. The experience was exhausting, irritating...and completely fucking wonderful. Also, my colleague was right: It was educational--just not always in ways I'd assumed it would be. Yes, I got the chance to see shows I would not have chosen otherwise. Yes, I went to many theaters that I'd never set foot in or sometimes even heard of before. But here are a few other things I learned over the course of the year, all of which surprised me a little.

Dido and Aeneas

There's good news, and bad news, and good news again. The good news is that the Master Voices (formerly The Collegiate Chorale) production of Dido and Aeneas was lovely. The bad news is that it was only two nights. And the other good news is that Master Voices is already planning its 75th season, starting in October with 27 by Ricky Ian Gordon (more info here and here).

Victoria Clark, Doug Varone Dancers, Master Voices

Meanwhile, Dido and Aeneas (by Henry Purcell) was splendid, and the prologue, The Daughters of Necessity (by Michael John LaChiusa), was delightful. Kelli O'Hara was excellent as Dido, though I prefer her Broadway voice, which reflects more of her personality. Victoria Clark did her usual, brilliant, glorious show-stealing; that she is not always in a show in New York is a sin. Anna Christy and Sarah Mesko were wonderful. All told, the women's voices were a feast for the ears. And the Master Voices soared. Getting to listen to dozens of brilliant performers sing gorgeous music could be the definition of good fortune, particularly as accompanied by The Orchestra of St. Luke's under Ted Sperling's direction.

The choreography, by Doug Varone, who also directed, was a real treat, working in service of the piece yet evocative on its own. (I could have lived without the dancers' frequently moving chairs and a table, but that's a small enough quibble.)

Yes, it's too late to see this show, but it's not too late to discover Master Voices.


Wendy Caster
(third row balcony, press ticket)

Echoes

The earnest and well-acted Echoes takes place in two times and places: Victorian England and Afghanistan, and present-day England and Syria. In both situations, a young woman has dreams. In both situations, she gets nightmares instead.

Braganca, Houlbrooke
Photo: Carol Rosegg

Tillie (Felicity Houlbrooke), the Victorian, wants to study the life cycle of flies, but ends up married to a dominating, humorless, repressive man who says that her "duty and sacrifice" in life is to have sex with him and procreate. She says, "Over the next three months, he makes sure I do my duty and sacrifice as frequently as possible. In fact sometimes he is so keen for me to do my duty and sacrifice that I worry his love of country may be too great."

Samira (Filipa Braganca), the present-day woman, wants to help build the Caliphate, but ends up married to a dominating, humorless, repressive man who already has a wife and finds his way around the rules of Islam. His first wife explains, "To get round the adultery laws, the fighters marry a woman for a week, then get a cleric to ‘divorce’ them. …He’s done it before.’"

Neither woman has a chance. The husbands are strong, violent men, and the woman are little more than slaves.

Echoes, written by written by Henry Naylor and directed by Naylor and Emma Buttler, is performed as alternating monologues. Despite being full of incident, the play never quite gels as theatre, and the politics are heavy-handed. Both husbands are one-dimensional creations; both women's situations come across as Women's Oppression 101 rather than the lived experiences of real individuals. Not to say that the stories aren't convincing, but they're not presented theatrically. The situations are effectively awful, but as lectures not a play.

Wendy Caster
(3rd row, press ticket)

Taming of the Shrew

There must be something in the water ... at least in Padua. The first of two productions of The Taming of the Shrew featuring an all-female cast opened on April 16 at the Wild Project. The New York-based Queen's Company, an all-woman classical theater troupe now in its 15th season, tackles Shakespeare's comedy by infusing their take, Taming of the Shrew, with a campy feel and a more feminist, redemptive ending. The Public will offer its own version, The Taming of the Shrew, as part of its Shakespeare in the Park series, from May 24-June 26, featuring Tony and Olivier winner Janet McTeer as Petruchio.

Elisabeth Preston (Petruchio) and Tiffany Abercrombie (Katharina) spar.
Photo credit: Bob Pileggi

Shrew tells the story of feisty Katharina and her unwillingness to wed and subjugate herself to a man's whims. That is, until she meets the clever Petruchio, who "tames" her. The misogynist plot, its depiction of women as chattel, and the abuse Katharina suffers under Petruchio's patriarchal hand sometimes earns the play criticism. This critique stung Shrew early on; even in the 1890s--long before political correctness became a trend--Nobel Prize winner George Bernard Shaw said, "No man with any decency of feeling can sit (the final act) out in the company of a woman without being extremely ashamed." The question with Shrew is what was Shakespeare's intention: is he satirizing a female's role in society, creating a light-hearted farce for entertainment, or showing the transformative power of love? This dichotomy allows Shrew to be adapted in a multitude of ways, making it one of Shakespeare's most produced works.

The play haunted director/play adapter Rebecca Patterson (also the company's artistic director) for years since she oversaw another version about a decade ago: "There is something deeper that ripples beneath the surface--something Shakespeare himself was trying to explore and understand, something about our conflicting desires to either love or dominate ... it is my hope this production takes his lessons a step further than he could, illuminating a way forward toward something better."

In some ways, she succeeds beautifully. Patterson starts the play in modern times, a smart decision that emphasizes the differences of male-female relationships in the new age. A man in period clothing steps out and begins reading a page that falls from a book: "Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee." Enter Tiffany Abercrombie as the modern-day version of Katharina, garbed in black, except for her bright wrap. She greets the man's interest with disdain and rolls her eyes at the old-fashioned depiction of females in the tome. Then she knees him. As he crawls off stage, she changes into the period Katharina by donning a red dress over her contemporary clothes.

The updated Katharina, though, remains present onstage with the insertion of women-power songs between scenes. The dialogue may encourage the view that men control the world, but the music of Cyndi Lauper, Blondie and others say otherwise. As Katharina becomes more programmed and less headstrong, the music indicates the sentiment. When the audience hears Tina Turner's "Time for Letting Go," they understand the conflict the main character faces and how she falters after all the harsh conditions she's suffered. In part, music changes the direction of the show and, ultimately, leads to a more favorable outcome for feminism. By the time, Peter Gabriel's "The Book of Love" plays, theatergoers see a Shrew that shows more love story than sexism.

The simple set by Angelica Borrero allows the actors to convey changes in time and place easily. The serviceable costumes (designed by Elizabeth Flores), with the exception of Katharina's splendid red dress and Baptista's regal cape, invoke the feeling of grade-school productions: lots of black pants, neutral-colored shirts and theatrical add-ons (a jacket here, a vest there).

Mostly, the construct of women playing men works. In movement, tone and diction, Elisabeth Preston as Petruchio, is convincing as a male. There is never that overriding Victor/Victoria sense that wow, here's a woman in a man's role. Nylda Mark as Katharina's wealthy father, Baptista, also is noteworthy. A lithe presence, she move with effeminate aristocratic grace while maintaining an authoritative stance. Bianca's lovers/servants don't fare as well. Sometimes their characters seem more pantomime than real. This aligns nicely during the more campy moments where the actors court the more popular sister, Bianca, who can't marry until Katharina does. Played by a blow-up doll, Bianca is the ultimate wet-rag of a woman: a perfect Stepford wife for the Elizabethan era. When the servant/lovers of Bianca lip-synch to Katharina, it also allows for extreme expression. Sometimes, though, when the traditional dialogue is spoken, the crispness of the language is lost in slipped words and too much gesticulation.

Ultimately, though, this Shrew's ending, which emphasizes the heart over wife control, is touching and showcases Abercrombie's wonderfully expressive face as she goes from perfect trophy wife to someone internally suffering to a woman in love.

Taming of the Shrew runs through May 1 at the Wild Project (195 East 3 St.) in NYC. 

For more info you can visit http://QueensCompany.org. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes.

(Press seats, fourth row)

Spring roundup: Head of Passes, Bright Star, The Color Purple, Kvelertak

 

It's been a hellishly busy couple of weeks, but I've managed to see a few shows nonetheless. In the interest of time, I'll spare you my typically long-winded reviews in favor of terser ones. Here goes:

Head of Passes, by Tarell Alvin McCraney, is a modern retelling of the Job story. Set in Head of Passes, Mississippi, the action takes place in the formerly grand home of Shelah, who has a birthday approaching, a recently diagnosed illness she's dreading telling her friends and three children about, and property so badly in need of repair that it's raining as hard in her living room as it is out in the yard. The play itself, which has apparently been reworked since it ran at Steppenwolf in 2013, still occasionally misses the mark: some of the characters are not as developed as they might be, and a few of the plot points introduced early on don't gain much steam. But even if the show were perfect, there's really no way to prepare for the absolutely thrilling ass-whooping Phylicia Rashad gives the audience late in the second act.

Joan Marcus

I know it sounds like a cliche--as does the old "I had to remind myself to breathe"--but hell if Rashad doesn't tear the roof off in this tour de force performance. Being that this is a Job story, I don't think it gives much away to tell you that Shelah shoulders a whole lot of bad news in the second act. Driving the surviving characters away in a heartbroken rage, she stands in the rubble of her ruined house (yet another cliche: the set, by GW Mercier, is worth the price of admission), and the final stretch of the show has her alone, railing for a good half hour at a God she is at once furious with and wholly devoted to. While I've always appreciated Rashad, I admit I never knew she had the depth and range that she exhibits here. She makes mincemeat of a monologue that has her crying, cackling, thundering, raging and rejoicing on a dime. Hers is one of the finest--and possibly most exhausting--performances taking place nightly on a New York stage right now. Head of Passes has been extended, for good reason--see it before it closes, if you can swing it.

The Tricky Limits of Color-Blind and Gender-Blind Casting

From Art Times:

Once upon a time, boys played the women’s roles in Shakespeare’s plays. Once upon a different time, Al Jolson and Eddie Cantor performed in blackface to great acclaim, and some brilliant black performers had to hide behind blackface to be accepted by white audiences. (African-American comedian-mime-singer Bert Williams, 1874-1922, once said, "A black face, run-down shoes and elbow-out make-up give me a place to hide. The real Bert Williams is crouched deep down inside the coon who sings the songs and tells the stories.") As recently as 1990, white actors played Othello with darkened skin.

African-American singer-comedian 
Bert Williams in blackface

 Keep reading.

Light in the Piazza 10th Anniversary Reunion Concert

Perhaps the single most salient fact about theater is that it is ephemeral, evanescent. Even if you get to see a production 10 times, it eventually closes, and it's gone. Poof. But in some incredibly wonderful cases, a show reappears, even if only for an evening, as with the magical 10th Anniversary Reunion Concert of A Light in the Piazza last night, with virtually the entire original cast.

Did the show and the performers live up to my golden memories of the eight times I saw it?

They were even better.

Bows at Light in the Piazza 10th Anniversary Reunion Concert

Lortel Award Nominations

2016 LUCILLE LORTEL AWARDS NOMINATIONS

Outstanding Play
The Christians
Produced by Playwrights Horizons and Center Theatre Group
Written by Lucas Hnath

Eclipsed
Produced by The Public Theater
Written by Danai Gurira

Gloria
Produced by Vineyard Theatre
Written by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins

Guards at the Taj
Produced by Atlantic Theater Company
Written by Rajiv Joseph

John
Produced by Signature Theatre
Written by Annie Baker

Outstanding Musical
FUTURITY
Produced by Soho Rep. and Ars Nova in association with Carole Shorenstein Hays
Music by César Alvarez with The Lisps, Lyrics and Book by César Alvarez

Iowa
Produced by Playwrights Horizons
Written by Jenny Schwartz, Music by Todd Almond, Lyrics by Todd Almond and Jenny Schwartz

Southern Comfort
Produced by The Public Theater
Book and Lyrics by Dan Collins, Music by Julianne Wick Davis, Based on the Film by Kate Davis, Conceived for the Stage by Robert DuSold and Thomas Caruso

Tappin' Thru Life
Produced by Leonard Soloway, Bud Martin, Riki Kane Larimer, Jeff Wolk, Phyllis and Buddy Aerenson, Darren P. DeVerna/Jeremiah J. Harris and the Shubert Organization Written by Maurice Hines

The Wildness: Sky-Pony's Rock Fairy Tale
Produced by Ars Nova in collaboration with The Play Company
Text by Kyle Jarrow & Lauren Worsham, Songs by Kyle Jarrow

Outstanding Revival
'Tis Pity She's a Whore Produced by Red Bull Theater
Written by John Ford

Cloud Nine
Produced by Atlantic Theater Company
Written by Caryl Churchill

Mother Courage And Her Children
Produced by Classic Stage Company
Written by Bertolt Brecht, translated by John Willett

The Robber Bridegroom
Produced by Roundabout Theatre Company in association with Daryl Roth
Book and Lyrics by Alfred Uhry, Music by Robert Waldman

Women Without Men
Produced by Mint Theater
Company Written by Hazel Ellis

Outstanding Solo Show
The Absolute Brightness of Leonard Pelkey
Produced by Darren Bagert, Daryl Roth, Co-Produced by Jane Dubin, Curtis Forsythe, Michael Mayer, Diane Procter, Seaview Productions and Minerva Productions/Joshua Goodman
Written and Performed by James Lecesne

Forever
Produced by New York Theatre Workshop
Created and Performed by Dael Orlandersmith

Grounded
Produced by The Public Theater
Written by George Brant
Performed by Anne Hathaway

Mike Birbiglia: Thank God For Jokes
Produced by Mike Berkowitz, Joseph Birbiglia, Ron Delsener and Mike Lavoie
Written and Performed by Mike Birbiglia

Outstanding Director
Rachel Chavkin, The Royale
Anne Kauffman, Marjorie Prime
Amy Morton, Guards at the Taj
Liesl Tommy, Eclipsed
Eric Tucker, Bedlam's SENSE & SENSIBILITY

Outstanding Choreographer
Alexandra Beller, Bedlam's SENSE & SENSIBILITY
Martha Clarke, Angel Reapers
Maurice Hines, Tappin' Thru Life
Paul McGill, The Legend of Georgia McBride
David Neumann, FUTURITY

Outstanding Lead Actor in a Play
Denis Arndt, Heisenberg
Reed Birney, The Humans
Timothée Chalamet, Prodigal Son
Andrew Garman, The Christians
Ed Harris, Buried Child

Outstanding Lead Actress in a Play
Ito Aghayere, Familiar
Georgia Engel, John
Jayne Houdyshell, The Humans
Chinasa Ogbuagu, Sojourners
Phylicia Rashad, Head of Passes

Outstanding Lead Actor in a Musical
Gabriel Ebert, Preludes
Michael C. Hall, Lazarus
Maurice Hines, Tappin' Thru Life
Michael Luwoye, Invisible Thread
Steven Pasquale, The Robber Bridegroom

Outstanding Lead Actress in a Musical
Sophia Anne Caruso, Lazarus
Alison Fraser, First Daughter Suite
Annette O'Toole, Southern Comfort
Mary Testa, First Daughter Suite
Sammy Tunis, FUTURITY

Outstanding Featured Actor in a Play
Sanjit De Silva, Dry Powder
Jonathan Hogan, Hold On To Me Darling
Matt McGrath, The Legend of Georgia McBride
Paul Sparks, Buried Child
C.J. Wilson, Hold On To Me Darling

Outstanding Featured Actress in a Play
Alana Arenas, Head of Passes
Lauren Klein, The Humans 
Jeanine Serralles, Gloria
Lois Smith, John
Myra Lucretia Taylor, Familiar

Outstanding Featured Actor in a Musical
Greg Hildreth, The Robber Bridegroom 
Jeffrey Kuhn, Southern Comfort
Or Matias, Preludes
Chris Sarandon, Preludes
Kevin Zak, Clinton the Musical

Outstanding Featured Actress in a Musical
Eisa Davis, Preludes
Karen Kandel, FUTURITY 
Leslie Kritzer, Gigantic
Leslie Kritzer, The Robber Bridegroom
Annie McNamara, Iowa

Outstanding Scenic Design
Mimi Lien, John
Timothy R. Mackabee, Guards at the Taj
G.W. Mercier, Head of Passes
Emily Orling and Matt Saunders, FUTURITY 
David Zinn, The Humans

Outstanding Costume Design 
Martha Hally, Women Without Men
Toni-Leslie James, First Daughter Suite
Clint Ramos, Eclipsed
Anita Yavich, The Legend of Georgia McBride
Donna Zakowska, Angel Reapers

Outstanding Lighting Design
Christopher Akerlind, Grounded
Mark Barton, John 
Ben Stanton, The Legend of Georgia McBride 
Justin Townsend, The Humans
David Weiner, Guards at the Taj

Outstanding Sound Design
Matt Hubbs, The Royale
Rob Milburn and Michael Bodeen, Guards at the Taj
Fitz Patton, The Humans 
Will Pickens, Grounded 
Bray Poor, Buzzer

SPECIAL AWARDS 
Outstanding Alternative Theatrical Experience
Angel Reapers
By Martha Clarke and Alfred Uhry
Produced by Signature Theatre

Peter Nigrini, Projection Design, Grounded

HONORARY AWARDS 
Lifetime Achievement Award
James Houghton

Playwrights’ Sidewalk Inductee
Suzan-Lori Parks

Stupid Fucking Bird

The Pearl Theater's production of Stupid Fucking Bird, Aaron Posner's 21st-century riff/recreation of The Seagull, is well-directed, well-acted, well-designed, and a great deal of fun. Its meta approach, with actors speaking directly to the audience, silly songs, and a fresh point of view, brings energy to the familiar story. However, it does not add up to much, nor does it teach us something new about Chekhov's original play.

[spoilers below]
While Stupid Fucking Bird sticks loosely to Chekhov's plot, its cheerfulness does much to undercut the emotions of the story. Yes, Con's mother, the great actress Emma, will never give him the attention and support he needs, but Con is cut from very different cloth than the Konstantin of the original. Konstantin is a whiny loser. His play in the first act is the artistic equivalent of his yelling at his mother, "I hate you," and throwing a tantrum. (Not that he wouldn't be justified. That Arkadina is one lousy mother, as is Emma in Posner's play.) Con's play in the first act is similar, but Con himself is loquacious and outgoing. His constant interaction with the audience is the charming heart of the play. Similarly, the eventual happiness of Mash/Masha and Dev/Medvedenko undoes Chekhov's presentation of the traps we set for ourselves when we can't get what we want. Add to that Con's being alive at the end of the play, and Stupid Fucking Bird becomes considerably less tragic than its forebear.[end of spoilers]

So, what does Stupid Fucking Bird offer us? Well, it's a lot more fun than The Seagull, and as someone who has seen the original perhaps one time too often, it's a relief. There's something frustrating about Chekhov's characters and their stubborn unwillingness to grow, change, or simply get a clue. But beside entertainment--which is, of course, nothing to sneeze at--Stupid Fucking Bird offers little. There are no new insights, no great emotion, nothing in the way of catharsis. It's a light and amiable romp, which is also nothing the sneeze at. It just seems to want to be more.


Stupid Fucking Bird is directed by Davis McCallum. The cast  features Bianca Amato (Emma), Dan Daily (Sorn), Erik Lochtefeld (Trig), Marianna McClellan (Nina), Joey Parsons (Mash), Joe Paulik (Dev), and Christopher Sears (Con).

The creative team is Sandra Goldmark (set), Amy Clark (costumes), Mike Inwood (lights), Mikhail Fiksel (sound), and Katie Young (production stage manager).

Wendy Caster
(6th row center; press ticket)

Dry Powder

Here's what I liked about Dry Power, Sarah Burgess's predictable, unimaginative, and lame incitement of high finance, currently playing at the Public Theater: the women in the crew wore black cocktail dresses when they moved the (unimpressive, ugly) scenery.

Azaria, Danes, Krasinski
Photo: Joan Marcus

To call Dry Powder one-dimensional would be to compliment it. Jenny (Claire Danes) and Seth (John Krasinski) each want their boss Rick (Hank Azaria) to choose their ideas; they compete, nastily, on both a professional and personal level. They are all three bottom-line people, except that Seth has a conscience and wants to do something good. It's not clear if Seth always had a conscience (in which case how did he get where he is?) or just grew one (in which case it would be nice to know how and why). But ultimately it doesn't matter; little he says sounds like a real person speaking. Jenny has no conscience, no heart, no morals; she is a human made of numbers and dollar signs. Nothing she says sounds like a real person speaking.

Hungry

The Gabriel family of Rhinebeck, New York, has just finished scattering the ashes of Thomas, one of its men, on the shores of the Hudson. Now that the simple ceremony has ended, they have retreated to the house Thomas shared with his third wife, Mary. Together, they gather around Mary's large wooden table to reminisce, mourn, catch up, listen to music, and set about preparing a nice dinner for themselves. Bread dough is kneaded and popped into the oven; vegetables for ratatouille are peeled, chopped, tossed in olive oil, and set on a burner; apples are peeled, chopped, and tossed in lemon juice for a crumble; bottles of red and white wine are poured. The family members chat in the sort of wide-ranging and amiable, ambling way people who are comfortable with one another tend to: one topic segues easily into another, doubles back, segues again. There are things someone wants to push further and things someone doesn't want to talk about; there are digressions and thoughtful pauses and reiterations. No topic is especially revelatory or unique; there are no Big Dramatic Moments or Deep Secrets That Get Revealed. Instead, topics include exactly the sort you'd expect people to discuss while they're sitting around shooting the shit for a while at a gathering: interfamily dynamics, work, local and national politics, Hillary and Donald and feeling the Bern, what old friends and acquaintances have been up to, how to properly chop the vegetables, the good old days, the way things have been changing around these parts. When dinner is ready, the family retreats from the kitchen into the dining room to eat, and that's when the play ends; only the faint smell of freshly baked bread remains.

Joan Marcus

"Yeah, but how is that a play?" my husband asked when I arrived home to tell him about Hungry, Richard Nelson's beautifully acted first installment in a planned trilogy--collectively titled "Election Year in the Life of One Family"--about the Gabriels. If you agree with his reaction, I'd strongly recommend that you skip this one--and the two Gabriel family plays to follow at the Public this September and November. But if the chance to be a fly on the wall in the kitchen of a fairly typical white, middle-class, contemporary American family appeals to you, Hungry will satisfy your soul.

I'd never before seen a Richard Nelson play, but his reputation preceeds him. I knew that he'd done a series of plays like this before--his four so-called Apple family plays, written between 2010 and 1013, focused on the fictional Apple family, also from Rhinebeck, during important moments in contemporary American politics. And I knew that many of my friends and colleagues, all avid theatergoers whose wide-ranging tastes I trust and respect, find Nelson's plays to be indulgent, pointless, boring wastes of time. I was fully prepared to feel much the same way, and am, frankly, still a little surprised that I didn't.

Hungry is slow and ruminative, for sure--it's not paced like most plays are, which is to say that nothing really happens except chat and chopping and kitchen work. But I found myself mesmerized by this small, quiet play, which was so expertly, realistically and convincingly directed by the playwright and performed by an almost all-female, universally strong, cast of six: Mary Ann Plunkett, Roberta Maxwell, Jay O. Sanders, Lynn Hawley, Amy Warren, and Meg Gibson. There is something beautiful about a quiet, unspoken celebration of so-called "women's work," and the peaceful synchronicity that results from it.

Watching people sitting around and chatting for almost two hours is most certainly not for everyone, and I came away from Hungry keenly aware of the reasons why Nelson's plays tend to be very mixed, reception-wise. If, and only if, what I've described above appeals to you, I'd recommend this one; if it doesn't, you'll likely be bored to tears. Me? I came away feeling real affection for the Gabriel family. I am looking forward to visiting with them again when the next two plays open, and the 2016 presidential election looms ever larger.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a curious craving for ratatouille and fresh bread.

The Royale

A few seats were empty in the Mitzi Newhouse Theater the evening I saw Marco Ramirez's The Royale, and that struck me as kind of a bummer, because man, oh man, The Royale is a play worth seeing--especially in a production as tightly realized and inventively directed (by Rachel Chavkin), and as beautifully performed (by an iron-strong five-member ensemble) as this one is.

I suppose the idea of a one-set play about an early-20th century African American boxer is not exactly going to make a lot of the typical patrons of Lincoln Center froth at the mouth in a rabid rush to the box office. I get it: I'm about as big a fan of boxing as I am of rolling around naked in ground glass. But The Royale grabbed me almost as soon as it began, and I am most grateful that it did.

T. Charles Erickson

 Inspired by, if not closely based on, the life of the heavyweight fighter Jack Johnson (1878-1946), The Royale focuses on Jay Johnson (Khris Davis), a brilliantly talented and ambitious black heavyweight boxer who wants to break the color barrier by fighting--and beating--Bixby, the undefeated and now-retired heavyweight world champion. When Bixby accepts the challenge, Jay starts training with the help of his coach, Wynton (Clarke Peters), his sparring partner, Fish (McKinley Belcher III), and his white promoter, Max (John Lavelle).

But as the big fight nears, the physical training Jay puts himself through turns out to be the easy part of his preparations. Far harder is grappling with the fact that earning the title is no simple path to glory, but a double-edged sword that threatens to drive race relations backward even as they are also driven forward. And after a visit from his beloved sister, Nina (Montego Glover), who reminds him why he wants the title in the first place, but also of the fallout that might result from his win, the mind games only get worse. Will Jay manage to block out the doubts, the threats, the endless racism, while he's in the ring? Or will he lose (or throw) the fight for fear that his win will result in white anger and countless acts of brutal racial violence?

Weighty, looming questions like these do not, of course, result in easy answers, and The Royale doesn't tie up the loose ends in a tidy bow. That is, of course, to its credit: things have certainly gotten better in America since the turn of the century, but the present remains a veritable forest of double-edged swords when it comes to black lives, nonetheless. The Royale is so consistently engrossing, Jay's inner game so engagingly depicted, and the cast and direction so flawless and fine, that the ending is not the point so much as the getting there is.

Madama Butterfly

The extraordinary American soprano Latonia Moore sang only her second complete operatic performance at the Metropolitan Opera on Wednesday night. Like her company debut -- as Aida, in 2012 -- this appearance, as Cio-Cio-San in Madama Butterfly, was a last-minute substitution. Although she was announced for a handful of Aidas during the 2014-15 season, which she had to cancel due to pregnancy, and is on the roster for the 2016-17 season (as Aida once again), the fact that she has been largely absent from the premiere opera company in the U.S. is curious and problematic -- especially considering that her performance Wednesday evening may be the best performance of the demanding role I've seen and heard in the past decade.

Photo: Marty Sohl for the Metropolitan Opera

Straight

It's easy to assume--especially in diverse, concentrated and comparatively liberal areas--that at this point in our country's history, coming out of the closet is just no longer a very big deal. But of course it is: even with all the freedoms in the world, being honest with yourself and your loved ones about who you truly are can be pretty tough stuff. That's the premise of Straight, a compelling, affecting new play by Scott Elmegreen and Drew Fornarola that is currently running at the Acorn.

 The plot: Ben (Jake Epstein) is an investment banker in his mid-twenties who went to Penn and is now living in Boston. He is quiet, brooding and something of a bro: his apartment is all college banners, sports posters and takeout menus; he often forgets to eat, but his fridge is full of beer, and he has a makeshift liquor cabinet with a bottle of Jaeger in it. He also has a girlfriend, Emily (Jenna Gavigan), with whom he's been involved since college. She lives across the Charles River from him as she finishes her doctorate in biogenetics. Since they both work long, weird hours, and since they don't live together, they see one another only a few times a week. This arrangement--which, it is clear, is entirely Ben's call, and not even a teeny bit Emily's--allows him to pursue furtive trysts with men, but also to convince himself that doing so is just no big deal. It's not like it has anything to do with his relationship with his girlfriend, and he can totally break the habit easily, whenever he wants to, if he wanted to.

But when he hooks up with Chris (Thomas Sullivan), an undergraduate whose slacker affect belies surprising depth, intelligence, and insight, Ben starts having a rougher time convincing himself that he can remain safely in the closet for the rest of his life. It's not just that the sex is so much better and more frequent with Chris than it is with Emily. It's also that Ben is kind, funny, relaxed, smart, and interested in all the stuff Ben is into--and thus not just someone to screw, but instead to fall head over heels in love with. As Ben and Chris connect with and confide in one another, Ben's iron-clad grip on the life he has decided is best for him begins to loosen.

Straight is a little clunky in passages--there's a lot of exposition at the beginning that is not entirely well-masked. The acting is a little tentative in parts, which certainly works when Ben and Emily are interacting but not quite as well when Ben and Chris are. And while it ends up serving the purpose of the play, Emily is a little underwritten in comparison with the men, whose emotional depths are more carefully plumbed. Still, Emily's hurt and confusion at Ben's insistence on constantly keeping her at just a little too far a distance is palpable and real and sad. Straight is an important play: it reminds us that while contemporary sexuality is far less culturally rigid--or dangerous--than it was even a decade ago, coming to terms with oneself is not automatically easier or less terrifying as a result. 

Women Without Men

Playwright Hazel Ellis seems to have had a low opinion of women, with an even lower opinion of powerless women stuck together in lives harshly circumscribed by need. Premiering in Ireland in 1938, Ellis's Women Without Men takes place in the teacher's sitting room of Malyn Park, a private girls' school where teachers get one afternoon off each week and coal is in short supply even in the frigid depths of winter. The women are a varied bunch: the silly Miss Ridgeway, the stern Miss Connor, the colorful Mademoiselle Vernier, the bitter Miss Willoughby, and the closed-off Miss Strong. But they have one important thing in common: they need these jobs desperately. (It is interesting that Ellis chose the title Women Without Men when Women Without Money might have been more apropos.)

Emily Walton, Dee Pelletier, Aedin Maloney, and Kate Middleton
Photo: Richard Termine

So, the teachers bicker and plot and complain. After years together, their nerves are shot, and they are all easily annoyed by one another. They fight like the trapped people they are, jostling for space and quiet and even hot water.

Familiar

Familiar, by the in-demand playwright and actress Danai Gurira (Eclipsed, The Walking Dead), is a kitchen sink comedy-drama with an African twist. It focuses on the Chinyamwira family, a Zimbabwean brood who left their homeland decades ago, solidly sewing themselves into the fabric of the United States. Donald and Marvelous (Harold Surratt and Tamara Tunie) are pillars of their suburban Minneapolis community; he is a successful lawyer, she is a biochemist. They wear assimilation like a badge of honor: their well-appointed home betrays no trace of their Rhodesian roots; their flat-screen television blares Penn State football games and Rachel Maddow; they worship at the local Lutheran church. They raised their two daughters, Tendi (Roslyn Ruff) and Nyasha (Ito Aghayere), to follow American custom; neither girl could speak a word of Shona.

Despite their American upbringing, both daughters are fascinated by their culture, which sets much of the play's action in motion. Nyasha has just returned from Zim (as everyone in the family calls it), emboldened to embrace her roots. Meanwhile, the engaged Tendi and her white fiance Chris (sensitivity played by Joby Earle) insist on performing roora, a traditional marriage rite involving bride prices and a counsel of elders. The parents are not happy -- especially when Auntie Anne (Myra Lucretia Taylor), Marvelous' proud and brash older sister, arrives to perform the roora ceremony.

The first act of Gurira's play is full of solid exposition and clever writing. The game cast do well to make the audience feel like they're watching a family. Unfortunately, the action goes off the rails once the roora ceremony begins in earnest, and neither the playwright nor her fine company (under the generally steady direction of Rebecca Taichman) are able to right the ship.