Happy in the Poorhouse

Photo: Larry Cobra

Playwright/director Derek Ahonen and the Amoralists specialize in "going there" – that is, where other troupes usually dare not tread. The long opening scene is Ahonen at his best, and he has two fiery actors making it all shine. Now, "going there" is all very well. The Pied Pipers of the Lower East Side went where it went with enough focus to sustain itself. Happy in the Poorhouse, though, goes too many places. It has a lot of fun getting there, with memorable characters, much humor, and the kind of elevated working-class writing, self-conscious yet honestly poetic, that marks this playwright as a writer of great talent, and an evident nostalgia for the unsubtle big style of writers of the 1930's. And the troupe is up to the challenge of living his words. What's missing – not throughout, but for significant stretches of both acts – is focus. More characters pile on, announcing themselves with overdone aria-like bombast, and some seem to be there just for local color. Rochelle Mikulich is delightful as Paulie's country-singer little sis, and Matthew Pilieci deserves notice as Mary's preening mailman brother. But the structure feels imposed, the flow uneven. Read the full review.

Sondheim: The Birthday Concert

Photo: New York Philharmonic, Richard Termine

So, is this the Sondheim celebration that Roundabout is doing? No. Is it the one at City Center? No. Is it overkill that so many Sondheim celebrations are being done? NO! The work of Stephen Sondheim is endlessly fascinating, complex, and surprising, and when some of the most talented people on earth perform it, the result is theatrical nirvana. This two-night celebration at the New York Philharmonic added the luxury (and nowadays it is a luxury, alas) of hearing Sondheim's music played by a full orchestra, allowing the expression of the full color, texture, and beauty of his work. In an evening of so many highlights that it was almost overwhelming, some of the super-highlights for me included Marin Mazzie's "Losing My Mind," simultaneously luscious and pointed; Audra McDonald and Nathan Gunn's "Too Many Mornings," gorgeously sung by both of them and gorgeously acted by her; Mandy Patinkin's "Finishing the Hat," hyperintense yet just right; John McMartin's "The Road You Didn't Take," a master class in song acting; and Patinkin and Bernadette Peters' recreation of "Move On," as heartfelt and touching as ever. The show ended with hundreds of performers singing "Sunday" on stage and in the aisles and balconies, which was nothing short of glorious. To paraphrase Samuel Johnson, "when a person is tired of Sondheim, that person is tired of life."

Happy in the Poorhouse

Photo: Larry Cobra

What do you get when you mix camp, genuine emotion, and poetry? If you're lucky, you get Happy in the Poorhouse, the Amoralists' new play, beautifully written and directed by Derek Ahonen. Down-and-out fighter Paulie "the Pug"; his sexually frustrated wife Mary; their dumb and egotistical roommate Joey the mailman; Paulie's sister Penny the country-western singer; and Mary's ex-husband Petie the vet are just some of the people fighting for their dreams at the top of their lungs in Paulie and Mary's apartment in Coney Island. Anohen provides them with funny, vivid, and revealing dialogue. At one point Mary says, "So what's your point with all this waxing poetry, Paulie?," and Ahonen indeed "waxes poetry" with a unique combination of malapropisms, vulgarity, and bizarre-but-exact metaphors. Ahonen's breakneck pacing and almost-cartoonish characters provide an entertaining roller coaster ride, yet he and the cast never lose sight of the reality of the believably wounded characters and their deep needs. The superb ensemble--led by James Kautz, sweet and heartbreaking as Paulie, and Sarah Lemp, perfect as Mary--nail their Brooklyn accents and beautifully balance on that thin line between good over-the-top and bad over-the-top. Catch Happy in the Poorhouse now (only $40 for adults and $20 for students), and you'll be able to say that you knew Derek Ahonen and the Amoralists when.

Valley of the Dolls - Actors Fund

The decidedly ridiculous pleasures of Valley of the Dolls, still one of the crown jewels of camp movie trash, made their hilarious way onto the stage for this one-night-only reading to benefit Actors Fund. The casting was inspired, which says something considering the revolving door of talents announced, canceled and replaced along the way. Everybody brought comic skill and an infectious party spirit, most especially the 3 gals in the key roles as friends whose lives are melodramatically warped by show biz and pills. As Neely O'Hara, Heidi Blickenstaff uproariously cribbed and exaggerated Patty Duke's sometimes bizarre performance right down to the pitchfork line readings and herky-jerky dance moves. Her laugh out loud hysterical performance set the tone: this was Valley of the Dolls as might have been done by the Carol Burnett Show troupe. As "good girl" Anne Welles, Martha Plimpton went a different, riskier route than straightforward spoof and put an arch, knowing spin on her lines to sensational effect - in their scenes together, she and Craig Bierko (as Lyon Burke) seemed to be having a contest for Eyebrow Raised Highest. Nancy Anderson, as Jennifer North, hilariously lampooned Sharon Tate's amateurish acting - the blank stare, the flat affect - and yet managed to give the character a stealth poignancy. The evening was overstuffed with priceless one-time performances from ones you expected (Charles Busch, a hoot doing Susan Hayward's Helen Lawson) to one you didn't (Troy Britton Johnson, a riot as cheesy lounge singer Tony Polar). This kind of evening is hard to pull off - a couple of false moves, and you're stuck with miserable failed camp - but director Carl Andress, and all those who contributed, pulled this one off spectacularly.

Happy in the Poorhouse

Photo/Larry Cobra

In honor of Derek Ahonen appropriating the dime-novel romance and turning it into Odets and Williams Gone Wild, I'd like to coin a new word to describe Happy in the Poorhouse: melomedy. I'd then like to clarify that while I didn't think this latest piece from the Amoralists packed as deep a punch as their last show, The Pied Pipers of the Lower East Side, it still absolutely knocked me out. This cast knows how to hit their marks without toppling into absurdity, and though the show gets too big for its own britches (too packed for a drama, too small for a farce), it does so in a confidently Hulking out sort of way. I wish more attention had been spent on the central conceit: Paulie (James Kautz) must work up the confidence to sleep with his wife, the love of his life Mary (Sarah Lemp), before his ex-best-friend (and her ex-husband), Petie (William Apps) returns from Iraq and steals her back. But at least many of the divergences are creative and interesting, and always charmingly played, particularly by people like Matthew Pilieci (and his sexual sight-gags) and Rochelle Mikulich (who brings new meaning to the word mousy). One of the wackier yet more heartfelt lines of the night goes something like this: "If you don't follow your dreams, you'll get eaten by a shark." Ahonen and company have left that shark far behind: they're living their dream, and this is a great start to what's looking like a terrific 2010 season for them.

[Read on]

Lenin's Embalmers

Vern Thiessen's entertaining, thought-provoking new play, Lenin's Embalmers, tells the true story of former friends called upon to make Lenin's corpse last forever. If they succeed, they will be rich and lauded; if they fail, their lives are over. Vlad (Zach Grenier) is the scientific genius, a drunk who hates the necessary hypocrisies of dealing with the Soviet regime. Boris (Scott Sowers) is the consummate politician, a pragmatist who understands that playing the game is the only road to survival. Out of this dour tale, Thiessen and director William Carden have created a fluid, darkly funny piece about the insanities and horrors of Stalin's regime and how our saints are invented to meet the needs of their time and place. Interestingly, as the embalmers strive to create Stalin's version of Lenin, the playwright creates his own version of Lenin, a wry, sardonic, sad presence, horrified by his deification. This is a first-class production of an excellent play with a uniformly wonderful cast.