Sondheim on Sondheim

photo: Richard Termine

I love the music of Stephen Sondheim. I hate the revue format. Does that mean that Sondheim on Sondheim, James Lapine's multimedia amalgamation of some of the composer's greatest works, narrated by the man himself via videotape, would strike some healthy balance? Yes. No. Maybe. The production itself offers a handful of brilliant performers (among them Barbara Cook, one of the greatest living Sondheim interpreters) singing the master's songs with aplomb. Can you really complain about Ms Cook's delicate rendition of "Beautiful" from Sunday in the Park with George, or Vanessa Williams' fantastic and reading of "Ah, but Underneath" ? Or Euan Morton and Leslie Kritzer making a great case as to why they should be the only choices for Mary and Charley if and when Merrily We Roll Along is revived? Sadly, the main problem is the composer himself: The interviews with Sondheim don't really illuminate anything about the material, and most of the time you wish he'd shut up and let the music speak for itself. Which, of course, it does.

Marathon 2010: Series A

The one-acts in the The Ensemble Studio Theatre Marathon 2010: Series A range from interestingly unsuccessful to quite excellent. Act one begins with Safe, written by Ben Rosenthal and directed by Carolyn Cantor, which explores the effects of loss on a young man and his step-father. While some of the ideas and dialogue are compelling, Safe exists awkwardly between comedy and tragedy, and it doesn't quite acknowledge how seriously damaged its characters are. In Wild Terrain, written by Adam Kraar and directed by Richmond Hoxie, an older couple visit an outdoor art installation. It soon becomes clear that the wife is struggling with dementia. The show rambles a bit, but it is sensitive and touching. And the performers--the always wonderful Marcia Jean Kurtz, Jack Davidson, and Catherine Curtin--acquit themselves admirably. Matthew and the Pastor's Wife, written by Robert Askins and directed by John Giampietro, takes an entertainingly bizarre look at the lengths one person will go to to serve God.

Act two begins with Turnabout, written by Daniel Reitz, directed by Moritz von Stuelpnagel, and featuring excellent performances by Lou Liberatore and Haskell King. Turnabout tells the story of a desperate man begging an ex-lover for help--and the ex-lover's revenge. The show takes too long to get started; in fact, the entire first scene could be jettisoned at little cost and with much gain. However, once the second scene begins--with some, uh, startling costumes--Turnabout settles into a bittersweet examination of gratitude and acceptance. Where the Children Are, written by Amy Fox and directed by Abigail Zealey Bess, presents five characters who have relatives in the military in Iraq. Largely using monologues, and with very little blocking, the play manages to be much more than the sum of its (exceptional) parts. Somehow, Fox, Bess, and the solid cast let us see--and feel--the emotional wounds that war inflicts on soldiers and their loved ones. All in all, Series A deserves an A.

Before Your Very Eyes

Before Your Very Eyes was written and directed by Edward Elefterion. The director part of him did no favors to the playwright part, and the playwright did no favors to the director--and neither was of any help to the actors. The play starts on September 11, 2001. First we hear in the dark a difficult-to-understand phone message, then the lights come up on two women over-indicating shock and horror. It gradually becomes clear that Kate is listening to a message from Lakshmi's husband for Lakshmi, who is too scared to listen herself. One of their husbands comes home; one doesn't. The rest of the play examines the ways that 9/11 haunted and changed the lives of the people who were there, as well as their loved ones. Unfortunately, Before Your Very Eyes chooses bombast over dialogue, emoting over acting, stick figures over well-developed characters, and half-assed conspiracy theories over reasonable debate.

Honoring Patrick

In Patrick's obituary in the Times, it says that donations in memory of Patrick may be made at tdf. If you'd interested, here's the link for memorial gifts.

Our Patrick

Reading through all the posts honoring Patrick has reminded me of just how social and supportive he was, not to just to me, but to an entire community of bloggers, critics, artists, playwrights, and just about everything in between. You wouldn't ever see a bad show if you were in Patrick's company -- or at least, you wouldn't remember seeing a bad show, because you'd probably be off to a diner afterward to grab a bite and talk about all the good stuff out there in theater. And that was Patrick represented to me: all the good stuff you could find in theater.

Goodbye, My Friend

I was absolutely shocked and saddened to hear of the sudden passing of my friend and colleague, Patrick Lee. Patrick was one of the most beautiful, generous and caring individuals I've ever known, and probably my greatest supporter, encouraging me more than anyone to pursue my passions of criticism and theatre journalism. I honestly don't think I've ever met anyone who truly loved theatre as much as he did. I'll always remember his dry comments after a particularly heinous production, the late-night dinners where he lovingly recounted his many theatrical memories, and his overall love for what he was doing. I am happy that, although his life has been cut tragically short, he was able to spend his final years doing what he loved most in the world. I am a better writer, audience member, and person to have known him.