Pretty Theft

photo: Isaiah Tanenbaum

In this new play (from Flux Theatre Ensemble) by Adam Szymkowicz, the two lead male characters have markedly different impulses toward beauty - one, a traumatized group-home shut-in, wants to worship it while the other, a smooth-talking millionaire art dealer, seeks it for a darker purpose. Our likable but not especially judicious young heroine (played with sensitivity by Marnie Schulenburg) encounters both in the occasionally quirky-funny but generally unsettling play which is distinguished by a playful Mee-like collage surface and unifying undercurrents of sadness and of danger. I mean no disrespect to the theatrical economy of Angela Astle's clarifying direction nor to the playwright when I say that the material could be easily shaped into a screenplay: it has indie-movie sensibilities and attitude. Stand-out performers in the generally strong cast also include Zack Robidas, who provides howling comic relief as the heroine's appallingly selfish boyfriend, and Todd D'Amour who (as in What To Do When You Hate Your Friends last year) is excellent at conveying subtext.

The Singing Forest

photo: Carol Rosegg

Never let it be said that playwright Craig Lucas sets easy tasks for himself: this three-act, nearly three-hour effort (at The Public) moves from Holocaust drama to door-slamming farce and back again while intertwining events in modern day Manhattan with flashbacks from Nazi-occupied Austria. The result, as directed by Mark Wing-Davey, is an occasionally fascinating mess that doesn't cohere or resonate emotionally despite a game cast (headed up by Olympia Dukakis). You sense that the dizzying swirl of interconnected characters and the overarching theme of identity are aiming for something larger, even epic, but the play's moments remain small and isolated from one another: this is a play that adds up to less than the sum of even its best parts.

Desire Under the Elms

Photo: Liz Lauren

It's usually exciting to see a show that makes my top ten list, but not when it's "top ten worst things I've ever seen." This production of Desire Under the Elms is pompous, heavy-handed, and slow. One performance is valiant and interesting (Carla Gugino); the rest range from dull to embarrassing. Robert Falls directed this mess, and he really should know better. In the beginning of the show, two men move rocks. They are heavy rocks--or, rather, they are supposed to be heavy, but despite full-throttle indicating and grunting by the two actors, the rocks never actually seem heavy. So, anyway, these guys move some heavy rocks. Boy, is their life tough and oppressive. And then they move some heavy rocks. Tough and oppressive life, huh? And then they move some heavy rocks. OKAY! Enough already, I get it--their life is tough and oppressive. But, no, they move some more rocks. Parts of the rest of the show are somewhat less boring, but not many. The play itself is far from a masterpiece, but it's better than this production, which lacks subtlety, pacing, drama, chemistry, and tension. Mostly, people yell and emote and fail to connect with each other and the audience. The direction is stilted and off-putting and overdone. If you wanted to do a takeoff of this show, well, you couldn't. It's its own takeoff.

Pretty Theft

Photo: Isaiah Tanenbaum

To go with its jigsaw-puzzle structure and precision dialogue, Adam Szymkowicz's fine psychological comedy-drama Pretty Theft has pathos, sharp humor, a dash of horror, dancing, and many scene changes. It's the kind of play that demands an exceptional production, and that's just what it gets at the Access Theatre on lower Broadway. In her first full-fledged directing job for the Flux Theatre Ensemble, Angela Astle maneuvers Szymkowicz's expertly drawn characters and their incisive, insightful scenes with the finesse of a chess grandmaster... Read the full review.

Pretty Theft

Photo/Isaiah Tanenbaum

In the broad scheme of things, everything is stolen from us: our beauty, our senses, our minds. The far more specific now of Adam Szymkowicz's latest play, Pretty Theft, dares to show us--elegantly--what's left behind after such robberies. It tempts and taunts us by dangling Allegra (Marnie Schulenburg) before us: a truly innocent young girl, who will surely be the victim of this show. The question, then, is what will be left of her, especially after her insensitive boyfriend (Zack Robidas), autistic charge (Brian Pracht), manipulative friend (Maria Portman Kelly), and rougish stranger (Todd D'Amour) get through with her. Angela Astle's dream-sequenced direction is "pretty" enough, but if there's a theft here, it's from the great performances. Given the range of unique voices in Szymkowicz's serious (but comically colored) script, at least one of them will steal your heart.

[Read on]

Every Little Step (Movie)

Photo: Paul Kolnik

What a pleasure: a theatre documentary that is actually good! After a number of recent docs, I left the theatre thinking, wow, how could they take such great footage and make such a mediocre movie? After Every Little Step, I left the theatre thinking, wow, performing is a tough field, wow, Donna McKechnie was an even better dancer than I remembered, wow, A Chorus Line is an amazing creation, and, wow, this was a good movie!

To get my complaints out of the way: waaaaay too little attention is given to Edward Kliban (lyrics) and James Kirkwood and Nicolas Dante (book). I understand that film-makers Adam Del Deo and James D. Stern didn't have interview footage with them and that they are all long gone, but the film-makers could have asked Donna McKechnie, Marvin Hamlisch, and Baayork Lee about them. They could have spent a few minutes giving a little background. To barely mention the contribution of those three men is a real weakness of the movie and an insult to their memories.

Now, for the strengths: most importantly, the film-makers had amazing access to the auditions for the recent Broadway revival of A Chorus Line. It must have been strange for the actors to know that their auditions might end up being seen by thousands of people--but probably no stranger than auditioning in front of casting director Jay Binder, who scowls even when he's pleased. (As far as I noticed, only one person's face was masked electronically. I wonder why she objected to being in the film, and I wonder who she is!) The film-makers also managed to lay their hands on a wonderful array of historical items, including reel-to-reel tapes from the original workshop that grew into A Chorus Line (how wonderful and eerie to hear so many familiar lines said for the first time as one gypsy or another reminisced about life as a dancer) and grainy but magical footage of Donna McKechnie dancing to "The Music and the Mirror." Perhaps the ultimate success of the movie is this: even though I saw the revival of A Chorus Line and therefore knew which performers were eventually cast, I still found the movie almost excruciatingly suspenseful and very very moving.