Crazy Mary

photo: Joan Marcus

A.R. Gurney's new comedy demands more than a fair share of suspension of your disbelief: the institutionalized title character's transformation from delusional shut-in to giddy romantic is about as believable as the attending psychiatrist's matter of fact first-scene confession that he's been diverting her money to fund community outreach programs. Incredible business such as this makes it seem as if Crazy Mary might be meant to be more farcical than it is played here. While the two female leads do quite well by the material under the circumstances (Sigourney Weaver is particularly good at wound tight WASP) the most convincing (in fact, revelatory) performance comes from Michael Esper, who makes entirely credible his character's transformation from sullen to lovestruck.

Badge

I wish I'd live-blogged a review of Badge; then I wouldn't be stuck trying to recall the various off-kilter moments of this comedy. I liked the idea of a 28-year-old, Roy, trying to stay in the scouts because of how inauthentic the world around him made him feel, and there seemed to be something noble in the pursuit of all 122 merit badges, even though I have no idea what those are and don't find it funny that the one he's missing is in theater. I also stop laughing when everybody is over-the-top, and grow irritated when I can second guess the playwright long before the twist: at that point, the only thing left is the comedy, and as I already mentioned before, it's way over-the-top, fueled on hot-air monologues and dropping more and more sensible shreds of ballast with every passing minute. The finale strives toward a combination of farce and Fight Club, and to be fair, that's exactly what it achieves. But those two belong together as much as a 28-year-old in the Boy Scouts, which leaves Matthew Schneck's play even less authentic than Roy's world.

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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