Falsettoland

National Asian American Theatre Company

It was pretty super revisiting the score that I used to play on the way to high school in the tape deck in my grandmother's car. All the songs were there and all the notes were hit in this festival production at the Vineyard. Though generally much better at the dramatic moments than the comedic moments, our cast here was filled with personality and seemed like a tight knit family (that's the cast not the characters). Alan Muraoka's direction was actually the star of the production with many numbers and moments given fresh and unique staging that made you go "oh!" or "awww". At the end of Trina's "Holding To The Ground" she sings "Everything will be all..." but doesn't verbalize "...right" after glancing over to Whizzer who is sick in a hospital bed. Just little things like that were special. The fact that the entire cast was Asian? They looked like New York jews to me.

An Interview With The Author

Why should I bother reviewing Matthew Freeman's new one-act, An Interview With the Author? As he sits there, sipping water as a tape recorder next to him recites a litany of praise for his previous plays, it hardly seems necessary for any of us to go on. As for the audience, well, he's there, too, for Mr. Freeman would never miss an opportunity to watch his own show, or to hear his own voice, and golly, look, there he is. Considering he's the interviewer too, and that I haven't said (nor do I intend to) one bad word about his show, it's safe to say that even I might be Matthew Freeman, in as much as his supporting cast were Matthew Freeman. But for all the pretension (this is, after all, part of the Brick's Pretentious Festival), Matt's found time to satirize the artistic process, lampooning himself as he tries to identify his own creativity, be that his parent's divorce, his failure to sympathize with Jesus, or his relationship with women. And it's funny, too, with a punchy rhythm (and some interesting, if not intentional, flubs) brought to it by director Kyle Ancowitz and Freeman's own sublimely confident poise. No wonder he goes to see his own plays.

The Devil on All Sides (Le Diable En Partage)

Photo/Rachel Roberts

Slow-paced but sure-footed, The Devil on All Sides is a competent performance piece about war. But competence isn't enough when dealing with poetic dialogue, and for all the salvos of satire, drama, and love, the show remains a quiet, steady affair, and not an explosive bit of entertainment. The mood is there, terse and lurking, but the rest of the play is about as successful as an old-fashioned shelling: some is on target, some wounds you with the shrapnel of afterthought, some just misses, and some pieces seem like they were just written and performed to set up the 'kill shots' late in the second act. It didn't do enough for me, visually or aurally, but I wasn't displeased either. I just expected more, given such good actors.

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The Second Tosca

Photo/Neilson Barnard

"What's the point of having an obsession unless it damages you?" With such an insightful comment not just about art, but love, playwright Tom Rowan could have made his new play The Second Tosca into a drama or a comedy. Thankfully, he chose the latter. The story is filled with hopes, aspirations, and charismatic yet technical banter about opera, but the pace remains light on its feet. In opera lingo, the show is presented with spinto tonality: that is, it rests somewhere between the dramatic soprano and the lyric, soubrette, soprano, and it has mastered the portamento, a technique of gliding smoothly from pitch to pitch.

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In A Dark Dark House

photo: Joan Marcus

There's so much that is right and strong in Neil Labute's new one-act that what goes wrong is especially frustrating. When the play is focused (as it is most of the time) on the damaged dynamic between the two brothers, it's engrossing and among Labute's most psychologically astute work. (This being Labute, you already know that theirs is an explosive, testosterone-pumped dynamic and that a heart-to-heart is unimaginable). As a dialoguist, Labute is in great form, rendering the brothers' pained, dysfunctional relationship with a cold, clear eye and a keenly tuned ear. The layers peel away incrementally until we see and well understand why these two men behave as they do with each other. But as a dramatist, Labute goes at least one plot twist too far in pursuit of moral anbiguity, and it's not credible. (And although we don't know the final twists until the play's last moments, we can feel that Labute is laying the path for them in the second of the play's three scenes, and we're the wrong kind of on edge.) The play is well worth seeing anyway, especially as this production serves it very well, with a compelling, hard-to-shake performance by Frederick Weller among its virtues.

Also blogged by: [David] [Aaron]

Passing Strange

Photo/Michal Daniel

It wasn't until Stew's compelling, forceful, gospel-like rock ballad "It's Alright," late in the first act, that I really woke up and started believing that the music could go right over my head and to my soul. Pretty much my only complaint with Passing Strange is that the first half feels as if it's dumbed itself down with cute lyrics and extra jokes so that the second half comes as more of an epiphany. Note to director Annie Dorsen: don't you dare hold Daniel Breaker back. Between the dancing lights, neon choreography, recessed musicians, and triple-cast actors, Stew sucker-punched me with his late, direct-to-the-audience monologue: the uneven tone just needs a little more work. All said and done? Don't pass this up.

[Read on] [Also blogged by: Patrick] [David]