Ruined

photo: Liz Lauren

I went back to Ruined a second time, just a few days after the play won this year's Pulitzer for Drama. I don't have anything more to say that I haven't already when I rave reviewed it for Theatermania a couple of months ago except that a) it was no less riveting and devastating this second time, b) it is an essential must-see for any serious playgoer but especially those who know the rare value of theatre that both engrosses and enlightens and c) the production is set to close on May 17th. Please don't miss it.

Exit Cuckoo

Reviewed for Theatermania.

Why Torture Is Wrong (And The People Who Love Them)

photo: Joan Marcus

Christopher Durang's latest absurd comedy (at The Public) gets off to a bang-up start as middle-class Felicity (Laura Benanti) wakes up next to a volatile stranger (Amir Arison) who she definitely married the night before and who may or may not be a Middle Eastern terrorist. Felicity's parents are no use when she takes her husband home hoping they'll help shake him off: Mom (Kristine Nielsen) prattles on continually about the theatre (mostly Wicked; Durang uses that show the way that playwrights used to use Cats, as evidence of theatre's cultural bankruptcy) and far-right-wing Dad (Richard Poe) has his new son-in-law bound and gagged for interrogation almost as quickly as you can say The Patriot Act. The play is snarky and funny for a good while, well-served by Nicholas Martin's direction which keeps a brisk pace and a unifying cartoon tone, and the principal cast is excellent. (Benanti, familiar from musicals, slips into her straight role amid trademark Durang lunacy with ease and skill, and Nielsen's schtick is perfect for this material, a real scream) But eventually the stones that Durang throws at American paranoia and extremism turn to softballs: Dad's right wing conspirators, a man who speaks in Looney Tunes impersonations and a woman whose panties keep falling to her ankles, aren't especially inspired creations and lack satiric sting.

Mary Stuart

photo: Joan Marcus

Peter Oswald's adaptation of Shiller's semi-fictionalized history play concerning Queen Elizabeth and Mary Queen of Scots is snappy and sharp, as is this thoroughly engrossing production (imported from Donmar Warehouse) in which the two rival Queens wear period dress while the men of the court are costumed in modern suits. The theatrically striking anachronism serves to emphasize the commonality between the women, one imprisoned and awaiting death while the other rules and sits in indecisive judgment, while it also underlines the continued relevancy of the play's political intrigue. Except for an on-stage rainstorm the settings are simple and spartan - not much more than a bench, a bed and a desk - but the artful spareness is purposeful and effective, scaling the action on stage as larger than life. The supporting players are each excellent - could one even hope for a stronger Earl of Shrewsbury than Brian Murray, or a more believably slippery Earl of Leicester than John Benjamin Hickey? - but as in any production of this play it's the two lead actresses who most matter. Harriet Walter is astonishing as Elizabeth, able to play layers under layers beneath an often strategic exterior, while Janet McTeer, who as Mary must move over the course of the play from desperation to deep spiritual serenity, is nothing short of spellbinding. It's a thrilling, captivating performance.

Blithe Spirit

photo: Robert J. Saferstein

Apart from Jayne Atkinson, whose crisp line readings drive the production, and Susan Louise O'Connor, whose clowning as The Maid just about steals the show, this star-powered revival's principal cast is less than ideal. Generally bland Rupert Everett often lapses into sourness, Christine Ebersole oversells youthful playfulness to the point of making her character seem dangerously close to mentally ill, and Angela Lansbury, despite the audience's enormous good will and delight at seeing her on stage again, is more cutesy than eccentric. Yet the revival (directed by Michael Blakemore) is reasonably entertaining anyhow, mostly because the play can still charm and amuse even in a less than buoyant production.

Caitlin and the Swan

The Management has become known for dark comedies with an element of magic realism, and Dorothy Fortenberry's Caitlin and the Swan (at UNDER St. Marks through May 2) is no exception. Director Joshua Conkel illuminates the curious psychological world of Fortenberry's imagination, in which the animalistic metaphors of women's sex lives become flesh and blood. Led by her worldly friends and her own exploratory spirit, naïve Caitlin (the excellent Marguerite French) plumbs the mysteries of fulfillment with charm, if little subtlety. (This isn't a subtle play.) Dancer Elliott T. Reiland scores as the fantastical animals, both graceful and gruff, and Jake Aron strikes a delicate balance between innocence and abandon as Bastian, a cerebral high schooler who becomes Caitlin's confidante. Rigid questionnaires and tests play the foil to the forces of imagination -- Bastian prepares for the SATs, while the women mock a sociology survey about "work-life balance." Uneven acting and visible opening-night jitters made Thursday's show less than all it could have been, but the performances in this enjoyable one-act should cohere to match the pointed fun of its conceits.