MoM

In this "rock concert musical" (part of FringeNYC), five middle-aged suburban moms form a band for fun, only to be bludgeoned by unexpected success. The concert format, in which the women tell their raunchy tale through songs, narration, and just a couple of dramatic scenes, is both a strength and a weakness; it enables a direct connection with the audience, but the stage set, loaded with instruments and pedals, limits the possibilities for movement and drama. Though some of the cast members are musicians as well as actors, as a band their musicianship is generally hesitant. (It would probably improve with more rehearsal.) This works fine for the first half of the show, when they are meant to be amateurs playing the local high school, but less well later on when they are supposed to be legitimate rock stars. What makes MoM an ultimately winning proposition are certain strong acting performances, especially from Stefanie Seskin and the magnetic Jane Keitel, and the singing. Mr. Caliban can be prone to writing juvenile lyrics of the "some make us happy, some make us sad" ilk. But the hooks and punchlines are infectious and amusing, and the cast executes multi-part harmonies superbly. On a purely musical basis, then, there's much to enjoy in this show, and since it's loaded with songs, it's hard to go wrong.

Willy Nilly

Photo: Ken Stein/Runs With Scissors

The first few scenes of this extravagant musical (part of FringeNYC) promise an amusing send-up of both the hippie generation and the "squares" who feared them. Aiming to skewer the Sharon Tate-Roman Polanski circle as well, the show follows the familiar story of the Manson Family and their eventual victims, but with Charles Manson himself flattened into an evil-free, comic character. By the time the Tate-LaBianca murders and the subsequent trial roll around the play has long since fallen apart. At the climax, intended (I think) to suggest the media frenzy around the trial, characters are desperately leaping about, even undressing, amidst a cacophony from the overly loud band — anything to find a way out. There are some effective comic bits, but neither the mostly solid acting nor the vigorous, clever choreography can save this exercise in futile exuberance.

The Boys Upstairs

photo: Samantha Souza

A "Sex And The City" peopled with martini-swilling gay-fabulous twenty-somethings, Jason Mitchell's The Boys Upstairs could be adapted right this minute into cable TV's next hit series. The three gay male friends of the title are privileged sitcom-ready examples of, to quote the play, "the generation of gays that have had it too easy", but the playwright's clear affection for the characters (as well as endearing portrayals from a group of winning, appealing actors) makes it near impossible to resist them. The well-paced, often hilarious comedy has more heart than might be first thought - its softly-sold message is ultimately about the importance of friendship - and there's something fresh about the play's youthful nothing-to-prove attitude: it's not only post-tolerance, it's post-assimilation.

Mary Stuart

photo: Alastair Muir

Although I never technically wrote a proper review of the Donmar Warehouse's production of Friedrich Schiller's Mary Stuart, which closes at the Broadhurst today after a four-month run, I cannot think of a recent Broadway show more deserving of praise. This past season was a watershed for both original dramas and revivals on the Great White Way, but none came close to moving me, thrilling me, or touching me as this 200-year-old German play about two strong-willed female rulers. Will we ever see the like of Janet McTeer's Mary--proud, fierce, even sexual--in New York again? When was the last time a contemporary actress so freshly and fearlessly embodied a classic role on stage? (Oh, right--it was McTeer herself, in Anthony Page's benchmark production of A Doll's House, back in 1997) Still, even though she is larger than life, McTeer's Mary never overshadows Harriet Walter's elegant Elizabeth I. Watching Walter, I felt both empathy for the hard choices that only Elizabeth could make and the true faith and doubt with which she appeared to make them. Each of the six times I saw the show, the actresses complimented each other beautifully, and I was happy to stand and applaud their joint bow each time. The production itself was smartly directed by Phyllida Lloyd and featured an estimable ensemble that boasted Maria Tucci, John Benjamin Hickey, and the brilliant Chandler Williams, one of the finest young actors currently working in New York theatre. However, the images that will remain indelible to me will always center around the two queens: the one on the throne and the one in the prison cell. Goodbye, Mary Stuart. We truly shall not see your like again.

A Streetcar Named Desire

Photo: Kevin Sprague

Marin Mazzie may seem an unlikely choice to play Blanche DuBois. Mazzie is tall, strong, and sexually confident--not the first traits that come to mind when describing the damaged, desperate Blanche. However, in the excellent production of A Streetcar Named Desire at Barrington Stage Company, beautifully directed by Julianne Boyd, Mazzie makes Blanche her own, using her strengths to make Blanche's unraveling particularly poignant and heartbreaking. Christopher Innvar's fascinating Stanley, rather than a simple animal, is a complicated man whose feelings can be hurt--an interpretation that brings fascinating textures to the play, particularly when Stanley is going head to head with Mazzie's Blanche. Kim Stauffer is superb as Stella, struggling between loyalty to her sister and loyalty to her husband. Considering the many annoying revivals of the classics of the past few years, where the directors were more interested in expressing themselves than respecting the writing (for example, All My Sons and the Roundabout's Streetcar), this production is a particular treat: while done with complete allegiance to the text, it offers a fresh point of view of a sturdy masterpiece.

Viral

Uncompromising, provocative and often bitterly funny, Mac Rogers' Viral is the first must-see of this year's Fringe Festival. In lesser hands the story - of a suicidal woman who consents to let three fetishists videotape her death - could make for nothing more than lurid, soulless shock, but the playwright uses it as a high-stakes example of the potential for dehumanization in both fetish and in Internet culture. The play's suspense, as well as much of its pitch black comedy, comes mostly from the tension of whether close personal contact will thwart the suicide. As with his Hail Satan! two years ago, Rogers approaches edgy relevant topics with a probing intelligence and a wicked sense of humor and the result is an absorbing, thought-provoking entertainment. The cast effectively form a tonally cohesive unit but Amy Lynn Stewart, compelling as the suicidal Meredith, and Rebecca Comtois, vibrant as one of the fetishists, stand out in the show's most pivotal roles.