The Pirate Queen

photo: Joan Marcus

It's nearly impossible to take anything that happens seriously in the lavish new musical The Pirate Queen, which combines the earnest bombast of Les Miserables and the visceral choreography of Riverdance with a historical preposterousness not seen since Princess Amneris' pop-art fashion show in Disney's Aida. A lot of professionalism is evident in the musical stagings and in the design, but it's all more than a little crazy: whenever the story (of a 16th century swashbuckling Irish lass who defied gender conventions by leading men in battle against England) starts to sag, you can be sure the boys in the ensemble will soon be pounding boots to floor in costumes that sometimes show off their chest waxes, so very popular in Ireland in the 1500's. The book should be a lot better than it is - what could potentially be a sensational girl-power story is sabotaged at every turn and has no more emotional punch than a pageant - and the music only has a Celtic flavor when it's time for a jig. Mostly the songs sound like Celine Dion cover bait, or alternately like rough drafts for numbers from other Boubil-Schoenberg shows; play along from your seat and spot the wannabe "Her Or Me," "Master of the House," "At The End of the Day," etc. Stephanie J. Block does all she can in the title role - she's likeably determined and gets a moment or two to break through the spectacle - and Linda Balgord is entertaining if you don't mind that she's asked to play Queen Elizabeth as a drag queen might in 1980 at The Pyramid. All my attention went to Hadley Fraser whenever he was on stage: he sings with so much gusto and passion that you think, yes, now this crazy musical will finally start to soar. No such luck.

Blackbird

By now the confrontational dance of abused and abuser is almost a dramatic cliche - in this case, Una (Alison Pill, exceptional) corners Ray (Jeff Daniels, staggering) in his workplace and forces him to deal with the lingering damage of their sexual relationship (which ended when he was forty and she was twelve). He served time, changed his name and is terrified that she's tracked him down; she's a walking, rageful wound, desperate for closure. We've seen this dance before, but rarely with the force and the impact of David Harrower's stunning, psychologically astute play, which shrewdly plays tricks on the audience's sympathies before its jolting final scenes. Although it's unlikely to be as popular, partly due to its ugliness and its graphic content (I counted six walkouts at the performance I saw, attention: David Bell!), theatregoers are going to be talking about this play as they did with Doubt, debating what *really* happened. You'll hear some praise about how Harrower has written shades of gray into the situation. That's only true up to a point; for me, while open to many nuances of interpretation, this brilliant play is ultimately a grim reminder of the life-long reach of abuse. It's the best and most riveting new play I've seen so far this year.

Altar Boyz

Onward, Christian hotties! Its third year off Broadway, and the hip-pumping, Bible-thumping boyband musical is still sending out (God is) good vibrations to those who believe in prayer, and to those whose prayers are answered by five hunks busting out moves in tight denim. This current cast has the show in tight, crowd-pleasing shape and the songs and dance routines are just as endearingly fun and funny as ever; I wouldn't want to meet the person who could resist laughing at the Boyz' horns-on-head move when they sing about Satan. I'll confess to three Deadly Sins while groovin' to Altar Boyz for a third time: Gluttony, because I couldn't get enough of Chris Gatellii's choreography; Envy, because the musical is that rare breed of satire that gets across with a smile rather than a sneer and I wish I had written it; and Lust. "Nuff said there.

Essential Self-Defense

photo: Joan Marcus

****

Playwrights Horizons

Though just as dark and pensive as his Red Light Winter, Adam Rapp's new play raises the fun bar by offering us colorful quirky characters in a wildly playful theatrical world. Like Jack Goes Boating at The Public, this play features a shy loserish loner pursuing another shy loserish loner. That's where the similarity ends though as this play is no romantic comedy but a sharp, borderline absurdist examination of fear in America. I would not be surprised if the two leading roles were written specifically for Paul Sparks and Heather Goldenhersch (a post-millennium amalgam of Carol Kane and Georgia Engel) as these two brilliant actors both bring SO MUCH in terms of characterization to this play. We have ourselves here a very imaginative, thought-provoking, very entertaining, very relevant play. Go see it.

Also blogged by [Patrick]

David's East Village Show-Crawl 2007

On a chilly Saturday I quietly wandered through the East Village and caught four shows for a total of $32.




2pm- Prometheus Bound. Classic Stage. *** The most high-falutin' of the four (it had an official Playbill®!), this was a very urgent and angry production of the classic Greek tragedy. There are three types of people: those who understand Ancient Greek translation texts, those who don't but act like they do, and those who freely admit that they don't. I land wholeheartedly in the third category as I assume much of the fidgety matinee crowd I sat among did too. I was able to absorb the general ideas of the effects of imprisonment and hopeful redemption but as for the specifics? Greek to me. I am perceptive enough though to appreciate the pretty extraordinary performance of the chained up Prometheus given by David Oyelowo who maintained a passionate, honest intensity for the duration of the 90 minute production. The chorus intermittently sang in acapella harmony. Very nice touch.

4pm- 99 miles to Philly. No, this wasn't a show (though it'd be a great title if it were). This is an AMAZING Philly cheesesteak restaurant on 3rd between 12th and 13th. Don't be afraid of ordering one with cheez whiz. It's like slathering a production of Dreamgirls with Jennifer Holliday.

5pm- Genesis, No!. PS122. **** Normally I run in the opposite direction when confronted with performance art as I find it usually takes itself way too seriously. However, seeing as how Neal Medlyn, an insanely unique downtown comic, was a part of the cast I knew this probably wasn't going to be the case. For a little over an hour, this 6 person cast of humor-dancers used the entire warehouse style space by bouncing up and down on their tippy-toes, chasing each other around, knocking things over and making fun of themselves and the craft of performance art as a whole. It was messy, naughty, nihilist and a total blast!

6:30pm- The Boiler Room- 2 bud lites. HX and Next.

8pm-John Fugelsang's All The Wrong Reasons. NYTW. **** This is a new one man show tying together stories about religion, familial relationships, drugs, careers and other stuff written and performed by former television personality ("prompter monkey", he calls it) John Fugelsang. Initially I was worried that this former VH1/Funniest Home Videos vee-jay wouldn't be able to bust out of his weatherman-style delivery but we must remember to trust NYTW's generally good judgement of character. This was only his second performance and already there was an ease and naturalness to his delivery. Even better, the writing- humorous stories filled with introspective observation and a surprising amount of warmth- was actually better than I would have ever expected. I was won over and completely charmed by this man with stories to tell. Go see it. Favorite line: "Paul Mcartney's Simply Having A Wonderful Christmas Time was playing over the speakers. You know the one. It's the song that sounds like two Casios fucking."

9:30pm- Urge- 2 bud lites. 1 phone number.

10:30pm- Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind. The Neo-Futurists at Kraine. **** Perfect for a late night East Village jaunt! Premise: One hour timer. 30 2-minute plays. GO! This thrilling frantic chaos was dappled with puppets, tea parties, diatribes, impersonations, audience participation and about 100 other things as the hilarious cast zoomed from one short play to the next depending on which number the audience called out after each work. My favorite play was about a woman collecting spit, ear-wax, hair, etc. from her friends because she wanted to keep DNA samples of those she loved. It was actually quite beautiful and made me tear up in 1 minute and 20 seconds. Go see it. It's totally whack!

12:00am- Bed.

The East Village theater scene is edgy, eclectic and economical. I was just planning on watching Discovery Health channel and cruising on the internet all day. I'm glad I chose otherwise. I had a very good day.

The Taming of the Shrew

photo: Donald Cooper

I'm usually annoyed when a director forces his own high-concept interpretation onto a classic - too often the result is more about the director and much less about the classic - but I couldn't possibly complain about Edward Hall's rigorous, revelatory take on this Shakespeare comedy. Directing the all-male Propeller Company (the London troupe currently installed for a few more days at BAM to perform this in rep with Twelfth Night), Hall mines the story of willful Kate's "taming" at the hands of husband Petruchio for something that registers for a modern audience as wholesale abusiveness. While conforming more or less as much to Shakespeare's text as I've seen in other recent productions, this vivid interpretation plays the relationship less like a belly laugh and more like a punch in the gut. The "truth" that emerges is no longer about the submission of women, it's about the capacity for brutality in men.