Forgotten

photo: Patrick Redmond

I was surprised by the emotional power and the striking theatricality of this solo show, in which writer-performer Pat Kinevane alternates flawlessly between 4 characters 80 years and older. The people he plays are living out their sunsets in Ireland, but Kinevane has punctuated the piece with some conventions of Japanese theatre. The juxtaposition of more naturalistic monologues with scenes of stylized Eastern movement proves to be both thematically valid and theatrically dynamic; it also frames the collection of stories in a way that allows them to gather a greater emotional resonance than they might on their own. Given the show's title, it's not surprising that the elderly characters are linked by loneliness; what is surprising given the theme is that Kinevane's writing is often as unsentimental as his characterizations are captivating. The piece plays like a ritual to honor the forgotten elderly that does, in fact, truly honor them.

Forgotten

Every now and then you see something truly unique, and Pat Kinevane's one-man show qualifies. A blend of Irish character studies and Japanese Kabuki theater, it is a superb showcase for this exceptionally warm and generous performer. The beauty of the Kabuki movements Mr. Kinevane uses to transition between scenes doesn't seem quite enough to explain their existence, but the happy temptation is to always give this work the benefit of the doubt, swept up as one is in its imaginative evocations of the lives of four aged survivors, now confined to nursing homes. More than a play, it's poetry, and an immersive experience. That's no mean trick for one performer to pull off. Read the full review.

A Lie Of The Mind

Reviewed for Theatermania.

The Pride

In Alexi Kaye Campbell's thoughtful, totally riveting drama we see two stories, one set in 1958 and the other in the present day, which involve the same actors playing same-named but different characters. What joins the alternating stories is that both are about gay love affairs; the playwright contrasts the then and now of gay love in thematically rich and emotionally powerful ways. What is most exciting and provocative about the play is its assertion that gay connotes an identity rather than an activity, and its underlying plea to recognize love rather than sex as the most progressive and most liberating connection between gay men. The play's main argument might seem authoral and the play's structure pretentious in less capable hands but this playwright falls into neither trap; he puts over the ideas while fleshing out believable, absorbing characters to draw us in emotionally. Under Joe Mantello's taut direction, the performances are gripping and truthful. In the 50's-set story as a married man who self-loathes his shameful "deviation", Hugh Dancy is heartbreaking: he has one scene of the "feel one thing, say another" variety that could draw tears from a stone. Ben Whishaw is especially exceptional in the present-day story, fully inhabiting a man whose erotic attraction to shame does damage to his love relationship. The other two performers are also excellent: Andrea Riseborough gives brilliant support completing each story's triangle, alternating between gravity and levity all evening; Adam James is unfailingly spot-on in several minor roles, most notably as a current-day magazine editor calling for a feature story that superficially glorifies anonymous gay hook-ups.

The Pride

The publicity material for The Pride says, "Oliver, Philip, and Sylvia are caught in a kind of erotic time warp. Their complex love triangle, replete with conflicting loyalties and passions, jumps from 1958 to the present and back in a maelstrom of fantasy, repression and rebellion." Okay, I didn't get that. What I saw was a play about two distinct sets of male lovers, one in 1958 and one in the present, and the women in their lives. Yes, the characters had the same names in both time frames, but I interpreted that fact as a way to set up parallel stories. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Either way, The Pride, written by Alexi Kaye Campbell and directed by Joe Mantello, is a strong, moving, insightful investigation of how homophobia destroys people, what love really means, and how difficult it can be to know and accept one's self. While The Pride is in many ways a play of ideas, Campbell avoids any preachiness or artificial structuring. Instead, he gives us a story of believably flawed people stumbling through life, as people often do. The first act is excellent and hard-hitting; the second act is not as well-developed, possibly because being 100% true to the set-up would have been a bit brutal. The cast is well-nigh perfect. Ben Whishaw is somewhat mannered, but it works, and he so totally inhabits the bodies of the two Olivers that you know which one he is by how he stands. Andrea Riseborough, in the sometimes thankless role(s) of Sylvia(s), imbues her/them with a potent inner life and remarkable strength. Hugh Dancy has that amazing ability to devastate with just a movement of his eyes or the slightest tilt of his head. And Adam James, in three supporting roles, perfectly complements the other performers.

Fêtes de la Nuit

Photo: Jill Usdan

Naked Goddess France in a tub, three silent Graces, and a stately tango usher us into the romantic arena of Charles Mee's Paris. To use two appropriately French-derived words, Fêtes de la Nuit is a collage of vignettes on the theme of love, but it's more visceral, and rewarding, than the typical movie of intertwined stories like Valentine's Day. We'll call it a play for want of a better word, but it's more of a theatrical celebration, scene after scene of a richly observed and finely sketched world where romantic love is subject number one, with sex, art, and the character of a great city clustering close behind. Read the full review.