Fringe: Art of Attack

The somewhat tedious but well-written first hour is a stalemate between two estranged brothers: Kaz, who was blinded in an accident, needs his brother to help him train for a tournament; Sergei, who realized he was as addicted to the game as their dead grandmaster of a father, refuses to ever even look at a chess board again. Once the two set their repetitive arguments aside and actually play, adding color commentary and letting out all the nuances they (and director Joshua Kahan Brody) have been bottling up, the show comes together. If the first half of the play is reading up on intellectual strategy, the second half is all about the execution. It almost holds up, too--but playwright Asa Merritt overcommits to a second climax. The final scenes are confusing, with sexual tension added between Sergei and Kaz's now-slightly-crazed girlfriend Rose, and they undercut what's come before: it's the equivalent of continuing to play after losing one's king.

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Fringe: Richard 3

Let's get this out of the way. Richard 3 is misleadingly billed as a punk rock musical, but most of the music by Mike Fabano does not fit the punk description. Although there is a band onstage, the songs are often sung a cappella. This is not to say that the music, which has a haunting quality, doesn't fit the show, it does, but if I'm promised a punk rock Richard III, I want to see a punk rock Richard III.

James Presson's reimagining of Shakespeare's play takes place after World War III. The show actually owes a greater debt to Spring Awakening than American Idiot, by having characters speak Shakespeare's words and then using modern language when at the microphone.

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Fringe: William and the Tradesmen

If you want to spend an evening with Morrissey, Joe Strummer, and Paul Weller, look no further than William and the Tradesmen. All three are channeled to remarkable accuracy by Eli James, who also wrote the one-man show.

The three British musicians are Will Bray's idols. Will imagines them guiding him in his quest to be a successful musician, even though his band never shows up for gigs. James has a nerdy appeal as Bray and his Morrissey is particularly brilliant. The songs are well-written, but not so exceptional that you can't see why Will has never had his big break. As both a theater nerd and an Anglophile, I especially appreciated "The Second Song Is An I Want Song."

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Fringe: Hamlet Shut Up

                    HAMLET
...


                    OPHELIA
...


                    GERTRUDE
...


                    CLAUDIUS
...


                    And then everybody dies.

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Fringe Festival: Dear Harvey

Patricia Loughrey's Dear Harvey, drawn from gay leader Harvey Milk's words and from interviews with people who knew him (carried out by the playwright), is earnest, thoughtful, and frequently moving. It seems to have a number of goals, ranging from being educational to providing a compelling evening of theatre. It could use some pruning, clearer time shifts, and a stronger through line to meet those goals. As it stands, Dear Harvey is neither "Harvey 101" nor really a play. For people who already know about Milk, it has much that is interesting. However, for people who don't, too many names and too many bits of information fly by too quickly to digest. I tip my hat to the people who created Dear Harvey, as their love, commitment, and hard work are apparent. I hope they work further to clarify and perhaps simplify the show so that it can better meet their admirable objectives.

South Pacific (Live at Lincoln Center)

The recent TV airing of South Pacific on Live at Lincoln Center was a pretty good telecast of an excellent production of an uneven show with some lovely songs and a dumb book. (In what ways is the book dumb? Nellie's attitude toward Emile changes every five seconds, Nellie can handle that Emile killed a man but not that he slept with a non-white woman, Emile doesn't bother to mention that he has kids, Emile wants to avoid being killed in war because he loves Nellie but doesn't worry about leaving his kid fatherless, Bloody Mary's version of matchmaking looks more like pimping, and so on.) The telecast was only pretty good due to some awkward camera work and some odd decisions, the oddest perhaps being the choice not to show the magical moment when the stage pulls back for the overture, revealing the large orchestra. Another odd choice was to spend so many precious seconds showing the sullen Andrew Samonsky as Lt. Cable when it should have remained glued to the glorious Paulo Szot as Emile DeBecque singing "This Nearly Was Mine" (perfectly!). But forget the complaints--isn't it wonderful that this event occurred? Isn't it fabulous that Live at Lincoln Center exists? Wasn't it a delight to see the play of emotions across Kelli O'Hara's face as Nellie realizes that Emile loves her? And what about Danny Burstein holding onto his dignity talking to Nellie while dressed in dreadful drag as "Honey Bun"? And Loretta Ables Sayer's beautifully sung, magnetic, manipulative, and desperate Happy Talk? And all those musicians! Whatever its faults, this telecast was a gift.