Next to Normal

Photo: Joan Marcus

This week I saw Alice Ripley in Next to Normal for the last time. Her performance has deepened and grown in the years since she first appeared in the significantly different earlier incarnation of Next to Normal at the Second Stage--and it was excellent to begin with. What hasn't changed is Ripley's 100% commitment to the part, every single performance. I've seen the show at least 11 times, and each time she has turned herself inside out to give us the full Diana Goodman, psyche, heart, blood, and guts. I don't anticipate seeing a performance like it ever again.

Three other comments: (1) The last few times I have seen Next to Normal, I have been struck by how this unusual and intense story is so well-anchored in the quotidian details of an average family's life: ties get tied, shoes get put on, meals get made, homework gets done. (2) The more I hear the lyrics, the more impressed I am by Brian Yorkey's work: "living on a latte and a prayer," "what doesn't kill me, doesn't kill me" (which was the more usual "what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger" in earlier versions of the show), and "you know I love you--I love you as much as I can" are just some of the excellent snippets, but to do his work justice would require quoting the whole show. (3) Brian d'Arcy James is Dan; J. Robert Spencer was just a thin, uninteresting placeholder. D'Arcy James' Dan is a caring complex man whose behaviors make sense. And d'Arcy James' vibrant and thrilling voice expresses Dan's deepest feelings in a way that Spencer's never even approached.

The Zero Hour

I'm not a hundred percent sure I understand everything that Madeleine George is trying to do in her compelling new play, The Zero Hour, but I am a hundred percent sure that George is an exceptional playwright with a distinctive voice. The Zero Hour focuses on the uneasy couple O and Rebecca. The happily unemployed O, whose name might stand for out, prides herself on being openly gay wherever she goes. She often feels superior to the closeted Rebecca--when she's not prostrating herself at Rebecca's feet. Rebecca loves O and is both embarrassed by and attracted to her torn-jeans butchness. At her publishing job, Rebecca is writing an introduction to the Holocaust for middle-school students--and becoming haunted by Nazis. Playwright George's goals are many: she wants to show how people lie to themselves and each other, how difficult love can be, and how homophobia can shape lesbians' lives, all without being preachy or obvious. She succeeds beautifully. Even more impressive, she discusses the Holocaust in a manner that is respectful but not rigid and even gently suggests that the usual conversations about the Holocaust may not be the right ones. She never resorts to Holocaust cliches.

The protean Hannah Cabell (O and four other characters) and Angela Goethals (Rebecca and both women's mothers) are nothing short of amazing. Each has the ability to change clothing and turn into a different person. It's not just a matter of a mannerism here or a change of voice there (though those are important); Cabell and Goethals inhabit each character to the core. Adam Greenfield directs with a sure hand; I was particularly impressed by his ability to maintain momentum despite multiple scene and costume changes. And kudos to the design team (Mimi Lien, sets; Ben Kato, lights; and Asa Wember, sound) for creating evocative environments, including a convincing effect of a train passing by.

The Winter's Tale

photo: Joan Marcus

One of Shakespeare's problem children, this late romance (based on Robert Greene's novella "Pandosto") is currently receiving a lovely production at Central Park's Delacorte Theater under the sensitive, focused direction of Michael Greif. While the story primarily revolves around Leontes (Ruben Santiago-Hudson, quite compelling), a king who believes that his devoted wife, Hermione (Linda Emond) is unfaithful, this particular staging is notable for the strength with which its secondary material is imbued. The film and television actress Marianne Jean-Baptiste makes an electrifying New York stage debut as Paulina,a noblewoman who makes it her life's mission to inform the king of his errors, and Emond herself--despite being a decade too old for the role--brings more pathos to the wrong queen than any actress I've ever seen. The play also offers a great deal of comedy, with Hamish Linklater (so memorable in last year's Twelfth Night) and Jesse Tyler Ferguson as adept clowns. More than almost any other production I can remember in the past ten years, Greif's mise-en-scene uses the park setting to its advantage in an extremely beneficial manner; it bodes well with the ethereal, almost otherworldly tenor of the text. He also manages to stage the difficult, haunting final scene to brilliant effect. There are very few levels on which this Winter's Tale doesn't work, and it's an absolute must for New York Shakespeare lovers.

Marathon 2010: Series B

Marathon 2010: Series B is another strong evening of one acts from the Ensemble Studio Theatre. In They Float Up (written by Jacquelyn Reingold and directed by Michael Barakiva), a middle-aged stripper-wannabe forces a young man to interact with her. The play gives a vivid sense of the pain of New Orleans five years after Katrina and of the neediness of individual humans. It's also funny, and the choreography by Mimi Quillin is just right. (However, it could benefit from some tightening.) Airborne (written by Laura Jacqmin and directed by Dan Bonnell) has much to say about women in the military, and it devastatingly combines intense physicality, smart language, and a perfect sense of timing. Amateurs (written by David Auburn and directed by Harris Yulin), anchored by a flawless performance by David Rasche, features mesmerizing cat-and-mouse interactions between a politician and the daughter of a man he beat in an election years earlier. The play starts slowly, but once it gets up a head of steam, it's quite good. Anniversary (written by Rachel Bonds and directed by Linsay Firman) elegantly telescopes many years into a half hour or so without ever skimping on characterization, meaning, or emotion. The two leads, Julie Fitzpatrick and Jerry Richardson, subtly navigate the delicate turns of emotion, and I hope to see more of both of them. The weakest entry of the evening is Interviewing Miss Davis (written by Laura Maria Censabella and directed by Kel Haney), the story of a young woman applying to be Bette Davis's personal assistant. There is much that is interesting here, particularly in the character of the current assistant (nicely played by Adria Vitlar), but the decision to feature such a well-known person works against the play--Delphi Harrington's not-quite-Bette-Davis manner of speaking is distracting, as is wondering what is true and what is fictional. The play also drags some.

Freed

Photo: John Quilty

Playwright Charles Smith faces three challenges in telling the story of John Newton Templeton, the first African-American to attend college in the Midwest, in the 1820s. First, bio-plays are difficult to pull off, as most people's lives don't fit a dramatic arc. Second, idea plays can end up pompous and/or dull. Third, Templeton's life was epic, but theatrical economics require plays to have small casts. Smith mostly overcomes these constraints by choosing an extremely dramatic section of Templeton's life and by giving each of the other two characters--a minister and his wife who take Templeton in--believably different points of view. Despite Smith's skill, however, the play cries out for other characters. Showing Templeton interacting with his classmates and perhaps with friends or a girlfriend would give the play a chance to breathe--and would take the pressure off the other two characters to represent Templeton's whole world. Also, the first act drags. However, the characters are affecting, the discussions are compelling, Smith's writing is compassionate, and Templeton's story horrifies, fascinates, breaks your heart, and inspires, sometimes simultaneously. Sheldon Best as Templeton gives a performance of great delicacy.

The Broadway Musicals 1990-2010

Celebrating the tenth anniversary of the Broadway by the Year series, The Broadway Musicals 1990-2010 featured at least one song from each year in its title. It's obvious to second-guess the choices, but I feel compelled to do so: two songs by Frank Wildhorn and two songs by Andrew Lloyd Weber, but only one by Stephen Sondheim? I must protest! On the other hand, Kendrick Jones performed a tribute to tap dancers past (based on the tribute in Bring in Da Noise, Bring in Da Funk), and any show that features Kendrick Jones is worth seeing. All in all, however, I was not blown away by the evening.