Pygmalion

photo: Joan Marcus

Director David Grindley seems to have brought the qualities to this revival of Shaw's Pygmalion that helped to distinguish his Journey's End last season: namely, a keen attention to detail, a pronounced avoidance of sentimentality, and a high level of integrity. The result is one of the smartest and sturdiest productions of any Shaw play I've seen in years and easily one of the best productions to play at the Roundabout's 42nd street stage. Grindley doesn't make the mistake of trying to mine My Fair Lady-like romance moments out of Shaw's play: his direction emphasizes Shaw's social ideas and his class commentary. (Although My Fair Lady is my all-time favorite musical, it is a different animal than this play, its source: lost in the adaptation were many of Shaw's snappy observations, such as the irony that once Cockney flower girl Eliza is transformed into a respectable lady, the only thing that society allows her to sell is herself). Further elevating this production are its performances, particularly its two leads. While Claire Danes makes a thoroughly excellent Broadway debut, emphasizing Eliza's determination and inner strength, the bigger surprise is Jefferson Mays' daring, out-there take on Henry Higgins as a bratty overgrown Mama's boy. His is exactly the kind of new interpretation of a classic role that I like to see: it's not how it's been done in the past, but it sure makes a lot of psychological sense and it illuminates, rather than distorts, the character.

Baby with the Bathwater

Photo/Randy Morrison

Just when you thought it was safe to have a baby, Christopher Durang's hilarious (yet hopeful) look at family values, parentage, and maturation (despite it all), is back on the stage. Baby with the Bathwater is no-holds-barred comedy, and under Kevin Connell's playful direction and the cast's exaggerated smiles, the play is as relevant now (if not more) as when it premiered in '84. The moral value of The Brothers Karamazov, as interpreted by the Mary Poppins-like nanny, Nanny (Anna Fitzwater) is that there is no right or wrong, only fun, and in that context, it's hilarious to watch John (Victor Verhaeghe) offer his depressed child, lying prone in a basket of laundry, some of his vodka -- in fact, it's almost heart-warming. John's wife, Helen (Karen Culp) is just as funny sitting on a swing at the park, encouraging other children to poke her "daughter" out of her comatose state. ("No, Billy! Don't poke her with that! Put that away!" calls another, yet no more active, mother.) When Daisy (Jeremy King) actually appears, late in the second act, he is exactly what you'd expect from such neglecting parents, but all hope is not lost. Between his seventh year as a sophomore, his 435th session with a therapist, and his 1,034th random girl, at least he, out of everyone else, may have actually grown up.

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Peter And Jerry

photo: Joan Marcus

Zoo Story, the nearly fifty year old one-act which put Edward Albee on the map, is still ferocious, riveting theatre: its enduring theme (that what we human beings call "humanity" is barely more than a push and a shove away from our true animal natures) is communicated succinctly, powerfully, in Albee's tight and suspenseful dramatic masterpiece of two men who encounter and provoke each other on a park bench. The play has been re-set in the current day and paired with a newly penned one-act prologue called Homelife: not only does this new first act go a long way toward fleshing out the character of Peter, now seen at home with his wife before he ventures out to the fateful events with Jerry at that park bench, it also deepens Albee's theme by including the more commonplace acts of emotional savagery that can occur in a long-standing intimate relationship. While I have some quibbles with the first act (the dialogue sometimes doesn't flow smoothly, even allowing for Albee's heightened style) I can't argue with the overall effect and impact of this double bill: Peter And Jerry is one of the most exciting shows of the year - both intellectually involving and viscerally powerful. Superbly directed by Pam Mckinnon and expertly performed by Dallas Roberts, Johanna Day and especially Bill Pullman, the production is a don't miss.

Peter And Jerry

photo: Sara Krulwich

****1/2

Second Stage

When the curtain rises on the Edward Albee's Homelife, Act One to The Zoo Story's Act Two, sitting there on the sofa is Peter and sitting on the table in front of him is a tiny cell phone. It is never used but it is a vital prop that zoomed us directly into the post-millennium. Albee was updating his 50 year old classic?? How he was going to go about it? Cut to Act 2. Wow. Aside from the name dropping of one modern author and a bit of welcome profanity, I detected no significant change. Zoo 49 years later still works in the now and is continues to be as shocking and relevant as ever. And Homelife, a husband/wife conversation that evolves far beyond typical afternoon banter, is loaded with that vintage Albee language- you know- where one person says something and then ponders what they've said and then re-phrases their thoughts? Love that. Homelife gently grabs us, picks us up, shakes us up and down a bit and then sets us down in Central Park to wander down a familiar path with a completely new perspective. And the director/cast? Pat MacKinnon/Bill Pullman, Johanna Day, and Dallas Roberts? Perfect. This is theater at its finest. Don't miss it.

The ACE train intermittently rumbled underneath the Second Stage theatre. Nice touch.

Secret Order

Photo/Carol Rosegg

Secret Order is an actor's play, full of barbed lines, wry deliveries, and so little substance that the play revolves around exaggeration and half-truths. That said, no matter how well Bob Clyman arms them with lines, or Charles Towers removes all other distractions from their work, the play fails if the actors aren't all on their game, and Larry Pine has a ways to go before he's comfortable enough to play the confident Dr. Brock. Right now, he's not a strong enough father figure to make William Schumway (Dan Colman) fudge his cancer research so as to make the old man proud. And his affected delivery, all bluster, takes the bite out of the snubbed Saul Roth (Kenneth Tigar) and lessens the influence and impact of the ambitious undergraduate, Alice Curiton (Jessi Campbell). Given that Charles Tower's direction is to minimize the surroundings (there's really just a rotating metal workbench) and spotlight the actors, the show has moments where it soars, and moments where it's just hot air.

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Make Me A Song

photo: Carol Rosegg

Many of William Finn's most memorable songs are included in this 90 minute revue, and an able cast of four has been assembled to sing them (I especially liked Adam Heller, who never sounds a false note all evening, and Sally Wilfert, who has a pleasing creamy-smooth voice), but somehow the show adds up to less than the sum of its parts. The ante has been upped on this genre of show after the most recent Putting It Together revue of Sondheim songs and last season's Jacques Brel... at the Zipper, both of which found ways to use their respective composers' songbooks to suggest a narrative spine and to chart an emotional arc. Apart from an extended section of Falsettos numbers, the songs in this revue aren't sequenced in any meaningful way: it's simply a parade of numbers, marched out one after another. While the best of them are moving and effective ("Unlikely Lovers", which builds to four-part harmonizing, is very beautifully sung here) the show (which uses just a single piano to accompany the singers) feels at its least good like some cabaret room in the Catskills.