Normal as Blueberry Pie: A Tribute to Doris Day

On one hand, the sweetly odd and completely delightful jazz singer Nellie McKay comes across as a combination of, oh, Cyndi Lauper, Steve Martin, Gracie Burns, and Diana Krall, with a soupçon of Ella Fitzergerald thrown in. On the other hand, she is like nobody else, sui generis. In Normal as Blueberry Pie: A Tribute to Doris Day, at Feinstein's at the Loews Regency, McKay uses a variety of voices, including sweet and thin, Ella-esque, and 1930's vibrato-laden soprano--all perfectly matched to the material. Her song list, while mainly focused on pieces sung by Doris Day, travels hither and yon, including "Mother of Pearl," her ironic contribution to the argument as to whether feminists have senses of humor. McKay plays piano and ukulele and is backed by a fabulous band (Kenny Davis on bass, Ben Bynum on drums, Belinda Whitney on violin, Glenn Drewes on trumpet, and Jay Berliner on guitar). Highlights for me included an energetic "A-Tisket, A Tasket"; a tender "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans"; an appropriately crazy "Crazy Rhythm"; and a poignant version of "Georgy Girl," accompanied by ukulele and dedicated to Lynn Redgrave. Her patter comes across as stream of consciousness, and an entertaining consciousness it is. Added bonus: in honor of the title of the show, the audience receives yummy blueberry tarts. (Tickets max out at $75 with a $40 minimum, but select $40 seats with no minimum are often available.)

The Metal Children

Photo: Carol Rosegg

How much responsibility for a reader's behavior resides with the author? When, if ever, is it okay for a school board to pull books from a school's library and/or curriculum? These are the two main questions addressed in Adam Rapp's fascinating new play The Metal Children. When Tobin Falmouth (played by Billy Crudup with quiet brilliance) hears that his young adult novel has become the center of a huge controversy in small town, he doesn't care much. Actually, he doesn't care much about anything other than smoking weed and wallowing in the fact that his wife has left him. But when his agent (David Greenspan, in his usual performance) bribes him to make an appearance in the small town, he finds himself surrounded by people who care very much indeed, some going so far as to treat his novel as a sort of bible/blueprint for a new life, others resorting to violence. Rapp locates the play somewhere between reality and not, and leaves many questions--both theoretical and plotwise--unanswered, which is effective. The tone is sometimes uneven, but the play is smart and often funny; supporting cast members Guy Boyd, Betsy Aidem, Susan Blommaert, and Connor Barrett invest their excellent performances with compassion and intelligence; and thoughts get provoked. Most importantly, Rapp lets all sides have their say and labels no one a hero or a villain. The Metal Children is what a play should be: full of life and ideas. (Two other things: The young woman is too too articulate. I know brilliant 16-year-olds; they're still 16-year-olds. And no one sits casually with a knife, point down, in his back pocket .)

The Glass Menagerie

photo: Joan Marcus

No matter how many times you've seen tragedy unfold for the Wingfield family - Amanda desperately selling those magazine subscriptions by phone, Tom taking those codified night time trips to the movies, Laura blowing out her candles - you're likely to be astonished by this current off-Broadway revival. This "new interpretation" of the Williams classic (from Roundabout by way of Long Wharf) may not quite qualify as a reinvention, but it's nonetheless fresh and surprising. The most defining of director Gordon Edelstein's contributions is his decision to have the memory play spring to life as Tom tortures it out of himself on a typewriter, anesthetized by booze. This may seem a minor distinction, but in the playing it's remarkably powerful. The conceit allows Patch Darragh, brilliant as Tom, to bring a booze-soaked toxicity to some of his line readings, and it allows some of the more charged exchanges between Tom and Amanda (Judith Ivey, superb) to play like black comedy. Bold choices also distinguish the play's other 2 performances - Keira Keely may over-emphasize the handicap, but she otherwise doesn't play Laura as a physical weakling: you can feel Laura's strength every time she walks across the stage in a broken but determined stride. Even Jim, Laura's "Gentleman Caller", feels freshly imagined thanks to a surprising, underplayed aloofness in Josh Charles' characterization.

New Islands Archipelago

photo: Darien Bates

Talking Band's latest experimental piece, currently at 3LD Art & Technology Center, is that rare example of multimedia theatre in which video projections are used judiciously, presented artfully, and kept in disciplined service of the story. Set on a cruise ship, with just enough visual theming to qualify as environmental but not so much as to become kitsch, the unpretentious, often whimsical collage-like play drifts from vignette to vignette as it tracks an increasingly strange trip at sea. We meet specific, vivid characters, and we learn some backstories, but there's an engaging ambiguity to the piece as it builds: its meaning is more meant to be intuited than explicitly spelled out by narrative. Gradually, the show's mix of music (by Ellen Maddow), scenes (writer-director Paul Zimet), movement pieces (Tigger!), and multimedia (Simon Tarr) combine to evoke the feeling of a gentle, waking dream. This has to be one of the most theatrically sound and memorable pieces I have yet to see at 3LD.

Promises, Promises with Sarah Jane Everman

The sweet-voiced and comically gifted Sarah Jane Everman filled in quite ably for Kristin Chenoweth at last night's performance. But really the show belongs to its main character, Chuck, played with elastic vivacity by the brilliant Sean Hayes, who though best known for TV's Will and Grace turns out to have boundless stage energy and a very nice singing voice to boot. And a big chunk of the second act is blown up to bursting by the hilarious Katie Finneran as Marge MacDougall, the inebriated sexpot Chuck meets in a bar after things have really spiraled down for him. Overall, the revival manages to be both supremely cynical and humorously high-stepping, with a happy ending that only slightly relieves the story's sour attitude towards love and especially marriage. Read the full review, first published as Theater Review (NYC): Promises, Promises with Sean Hayes and Sarah Jane Everman on Blogcritics.

Banana Shpeel

photo: Kristie Kahns

Most of the acts in the latest Cirque du Soleil show are of the same variety and of the same jaw-dropping, viscerally exciting quality you expect from the brand: a trio of Asian contortionists, a hold-your-breath thrilling Russian male acrobat who seems to walk sideways around a pole, a juggler who spins carpets on her legs, hands and head simultaneously. But the show's unfortunate, vaudeville-themed framing story adds a lot of head-scratchingly unfunny business to the mix and keeps grinding the show to a full halt. The conceit - that our Master of Ceremonies holds a talent contest using three talentless audience members (read: obvious plants) who infiltrate the show rather than return to their seats as they're told - isn't at all developed: it's all set-up and no punchline. The only practical use of the vaudeville setting is that it allows an excuse for tap dancing but those numbers, which haven't been choreographed to build, are among the show's weakest. There is some Cirque du Soleil magic here, but it's diminished by way too much that's beside the point.