Avenue Q (Off-Broadway)

Watching Avenue Q at the New World Stages brought to mind a line from another musical: "It's so nice to have you back where you belong." It's great that Avenue Q had a long Broadway run, made a pile of money, and won some Tonys, but it fits better Off-Broadway, both in the size of its cast and band and the sensibility of its material. The whole concept of the Off-Broadway musical is making a comeback at the New World Stages, where Altar Boyz and Toxic Avenger are also happily ensconced. Would [title of show] still be running if it had stayed Off-Broadway? Would Passing Strange? Perhaps so, and New York theatre would be better for having both of them around.

About this latest incarnation of Avenue Q: the cast is excellent (especially Anika Larsen as Kate Monster and Lucy the slut) and the show remains energetic, clever, and entertaining. Some small complaints: the schadenfreude song is too mean-spirited for my taste, Rod is presented as overly fey (100% fey is enough; 150% is too much), and I have mixed feelings about the (funny) anti-German comment (hey, everybody is a little bit racist). Mostly, however, Avenue Q is a great show, pure and simple. (And for those who have a dozen theories about how it "stole" Wicked's Tony, here's my theory about why it won: it's smarter, funnier, and better written, with a consistently successful score.)

The Pumpkin Pie Show: Commencement

Hanna Cheek, one of the downtown scene's leading lights, is a remarkable performer whose work continues to grow richer. Here she carefully delineates three distinct characters: a mother going through a mother's worst nightmare; a bookish high school student; and a second mother who shares the nightmare but from a very different point of view. Clay McLeod Chapman's monologues rarely fail to grip in some way, but these taken together have a power greater than the sum of their parts. Not just a series of absorbing sketches, Commencement builds until it takes the form of a multi-character drama with a real plot, which concerns the aftermath of a horrific event in the life of an American town that's only technically fictional. While Clay McLeod Chapman's pieces can be read as short stories, the Pumpkin Pie shows are as far from literary readings as Greek drama is from NPR's "Selected Shorts." Presented on stage, these serious tales deliver old-fashioned catharsis in a big way.

The Last Smoker in America

Photo: Robert Saferstein

At a recent appearance, the creators of Next to Normal said that, between the good Off-Broadway version of their show and the excellent Broadway version, their producers had asked them what exactly they wanted the show to be about. The creators of Last Smoker in America (book and lyrics, Bill Russell; music, Peter Melnick) need to ask themselves that same question. The story of, well, the last smoker in America, the show wobbles between political satire and dysfunctional family comedy, with strengths--and weaknesses--in both arenas. In brief, as anti-smoking laws get more and more draconian, effigies of smokers are thrown into bonfires and a group called NAT-C is born; the very funny "If It Feels This Good" nicely summarizes a world--not that different from our own--where feeling good is perceived as a warning sign; and the line between virtual and real gunplay becomes blurred. Meanwhile, Pam (the last smoker) and Ernie sadly reminesce about their enjoyably vice-filled past ("Hangin' Out in a Smoky Bar") while failing to connect in the present, and their son Jimmy (the talented Alex Wyse) forgets to take his medication for ADHD, thrives on playing violent video games, and decides he is black ("Gangsta"). The fourth character, their neighbor Phyllis, is an aggressively smiling, holier-than-thou, anti-smoking crusader who barely keeps her inner monster in check. These characters all display the beginnings of three-dimensional people with aspirations and the ability to grow, but they are not there yet. I look forward to seeing the next incarnation of this show.

My Life in a Nutshell

A loves C.

B loves C.

C is tired of being involved with both A and B.

D loves E.

Death loves D, who does not reciprocate.

A, B, C, D, and E are lifesized, faceless marionettes made of burlap bags.

Death is two long poles.

This is My Life in a Nutshell in a nutshell. Created and performed (with assistance) by the multi-award-winning Hanne Tierney, the show also features charming projections by Hannah Wassileski and wonderful music written, sung, and played (bass fiddle and toy piano) by Jane Wang. A commentary on people's relationships with one another and with death, My Life in a Nutshell offers a combination of evocative, even magical, moments and impressive technical prowess (the mechanics of manipulating the marionettes and the music-making are in full view). The text/narration, nicely delivered by Tierney, is affectless and wryly amusing, with much of it as simple and straightforward as the first two lines of this review, which are direct quotations. While everything in this show is top-notch, and much of it is amazing--I particularly enjoyed the lovingly satirical performance art presentation of work by Gertrude Stein--the whole is somewhat less than the sum of its parts. The affectless narration, the facelessness of the marionettes, and the slowness of the presentation limit the transmission of emotion, and the overall impression is of watching from a distance.

Wishful Drinking

photo: Joan Marcus

In her entertaining solo show, essentially a stand-up routine with theatrical elements (including an intermission), Carrie Fisher reveals a thing or two about her parents Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher, her ex-husband Paul Simon, and her "Star Wars" director George Lucas. The material wouldn't be more than sarcastic navel-gazing were it not for Fisher's sharp wit and self-effacing personality: her one-liners sometimes recall vintage Fran Lebowitz, and she delivers them judiciously for maximum acidity. The show isn't intimate even on the occasions when intimate information is shared - there's never a point when the lights dim and we're told a "meaningful" life lesson. Nonetheless the clear message emerges that the most valuable thing to have in life is a sense of humor about it.

Seeing Stars

Reviewed for Theatermania.