Post No Bills

photo: Sandra Coudert

Two down-and-out middle-aged men beg for a living in the city along a wall called the Post No Bills, so named for its one painted sign, in Mando Alvarado's formulaic but absorbing play currently at Rattlestick. As soon the more shut-down of the two, a once moderately famous musician, begrudgingly takes a toughened teenage street girl under his wing we generally know where the relationship (and the story) will go. Despite this, the play is almost consistently compelling - the acting is nuanced and involving (Teddy Canez is especially excellent as the pained, gruff musician) and the playwright gets a lot of humor out of the characters. The play is punctuated with brief musical performances of the unpretty soul-baring kind that add welcome texture and mood. While there are some plot points in the second act that I didn't buy, and more than a few moments that seem underdeveloped (mostly with the play's two supporting characters) there is more often the ring of truth in the play's details.

In The Next Room, or the vibrator play

photo: Joan Marcus

Set in the 1880s, Sarah Ruhl's new play (her first on Broadway, thanks to Lincoln Center) centers on the then-accepted medical practice of using vibrators to cure hysteria. We can't help a chuckle or two as we watch Dr. Givings (Michael Cerveris) clinically administer the treatment to a new patient (Maria Dizzia) while his wife (Laura Benanti) eavesdrops outside the door, mystified: it may be the dawn of the electrical age, but everyone is still in the dark about sexuality. Once we've had a giggle or two the play quickly deepens, purposeful in its compassion for the innocence of its characters. A good deal of the play's poignancy comes from the friction between what we know as a modern audience and what the characters do not; if the play has a villain it's the limits of human knowledge. The thoughtful, gently provocative and delicately balanced play has been given a gorgeous production, with superb performances from virtually everyone in the cast. Highly recommended.

Girl Crazy

Photo: Joan Marcus

The Encores! production of the Gershwins' Girl Crazy is a painless way to spend time. The score includes "Embraceable You" and "But Not for Me," and the performers largely acquit themselves well. The standout is Seinfield's Wayne Knight, funny and charming as a New York cab driver who finds himself the sheriff of Custerville, Arizona. But Girl Crazy is an old school musical, with a feeble boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-girl plot and one-dimensional characters. To those who say, "They don't make 'em like that anymore," I say, "That's okay with me."

What Once We Felt

Photo: Gregory Costanzo

In the sci-fi world of Ann Marie Healy's What Once We Felt, there are no men, procreation occurs via Internet-ordered pills, Tradepacks (the service class) are dying off, and the RSS (the government, I guess) is gradually curtailing the freedoms of the Keepers (the women of privilege). Macy, a Keeper, is desperate to get her novel published--but is she desperate enough? (Her potential publisher, a specialist in "Digi-Directs," refers to people who love books as "fetishizing . . . outdated packets of information.") Healy hints at her goals when Macy's book is described as a work of "biting satire and dystopian leanings." Unfortunately, the satire is not biting enough and the dystopia is not clearly enough etched to hit home, although the play does have many interesting moments and plenty of intriguing ideas. The current production, awkwardly directed by Ken Rus Schmoll, doesn't do the play any favors; much of the potential humor is lost, and it's hard to care about any of the characters.

In the Next Room, or The Vibrator Play

photo: Joan Marcus

I've never much understood the appeal of Sarah Ruhl's plays, and in many ways, I still don't. They are all, by and large, the kind of twee and cerebral attempts at meta-comedy over which pretentious New York theatergoers cream themselves. Her retelling of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth, produced by Second Stage in 2007, remains one of the most agonizing evenings I have ever spent in a theatre. So it was under some duress that I attended her latest work (and Broadway debut), In the Next Room, or The Vibrator Play, which was produced by Lincoln Center at The Lyceum Theatre. And while it's far from perfect, I am glad that I went, if for no other reason that the stellar performances. The ensemble, from top to bottom, is fantastic, with Laura Benanti revelatory in a rare non-musical outing. Her performance manages to be period-specific (the play is set in the 1880s) and forward looking all at once, and she is obviously having a ball delivering Ruhl's tongue-in-cheek double entendres. Michael Cerveris is terrific as her doctor husband, who plans to eradicate female hysteria with the help of the play's title instrument, and frequent Ruhl collaborator Maria Dizzia knocks it out of the park as his sexually repressed patient. The text itself is problematic--it's around a half-hour too long, with a failed coup-de-theatre at the end--but the caliber of acting makes it an extremely worthwhile experience.

The Orphans' Home Cycle: Part One--The Story of a Childhood

The late Horton Foote's nine-play epic, the Orphans' Home Cycle (presented as three one-acts per evening or all nine one-acts in a marathon), depicts the coming of age of Horace Robedaux, based on Foote's father. Part One--The Story of a Childhood takes Robedaux from age 12 in 1902 to his early 20s. As the cycle begins, Robedaux's parents are separated and his father is dying. When his father dies, his mother remarries, and it is soon clear that he is not welcome in the new family. Friends of his father and some relatives try to help Robedaux, but their large promises diminish in the keeping or vanish all together, and he has to fend for himself, financially and emotionally. The plays of the Orphans' Home Cycle have varied histories; some were stand-alone plays, some were TV plays, and some are new. Foote trimmed the full-length works to one acts. When a show runs nine hours, the question has to be asked: Does it justify the length? It feels weird to second-guess the much-beloved, much-respected Foote, and who knows what he might have done had he lived, but in Part One, more trimming would have been welcome. Characters come and go who add little to the evening (my guess is that they are based on real people in Foote's father's life), and some scenes overstay their welcome, in particular the repetitive drunken ramblings of one of Robedaux's employers. Bill Heck as the grown Robedaux is excellent, as are Annalee Jefferies and Jenny Dare Paulin in various roles, but many in the ensemble are disappointing. I am nevertheless optimistic about Parts Two and Three since they will provide opportunities for the exposition and character development from Part One to pay off.