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.

Fringe: Evan O'Television in Double Negatives

Evan O'Sullivan calls his act "conceptual comedy," and the televised version of himself--his partner--jokes that "if we called it performance art, nobody would come." When the two are in sync--or deliberately out of it, as with one gag--Double Negatives is delightful: it's self-self-deprecating humor. (Consider one skit in which the televised Evan plays a therapist who is attempting to treat the live Evan's psychotic habit of "talking to himself.") Entertaining as this "renowned one-man duo" is at first (O'Sullivan's mirthful similarity to Modern Family's Eric Stonestreet doesn't hurt), the gimmick exhausts itself after a half-hour. It doesn't help that "both" actors are the straight man and that the live Evan often has to mumble extra text to stay on cue--the show needs some fine tuning (pardon the pun).

[Read full review]

Fringe: The Beatitudes

The final performance of Eidolon Ballet's The Beatitudes is tonight at 8 p.m. at Dixon Place. I recommend trying to make room for it in your Fringe schedule. At only 35 minutes, it can easily fit in between two other shows.

The dance piece begins with Ray (Jerry "Chip" Scuderi) serving in WWII and follows his journey as he returns to New York, discovers the Beat Generation, heads west, and eventually returns home. The dance is set to jazz music as well as readings by Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac. I don't claim to be a dance critic, but to these eyes, the dance set to spoken word is particularly engaging because it enhances the poetry of the language. The choreography by Melanie Cortier is lovely, if at times repetitive.

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FRINGE: Richard 3

                       KING RICHARD III
I am goth!  Look at my eye makeup!


                       ELIZABETH
I am also goth!  Look at everybody die!


                       EVERYBODY
When World War 3 is over, anybody who doesn't die will be
Goth!


                       CAST OF AMERICAN IDIOT
We'd complain that you stole our "thing", but you sing 
better than us.

[Read full review @ BroadwayAbridged]

Fringe: The Conveniences of Modern Living

Best not to dwell on the talking Dryer (Jessica Love)--it's enough that an innocent face simply peers out of that door with fabric softener sheets crinkled through her hair and a long slinky-pipe of an arm. Such imagery fits perfectly with the precocious poetry of ten-year-old Bobson (Zack Palomo), who is falling for his babysitter, Agnes (Maya Baldwin)--and not just in their make-believe games. It also saves Agnes's husband, Harold (Rory Sheridan), from having to explain exactly what he's doing on those late nights with the Dryer. The less it's acknowledged, the easier it is to accept that--following the loss of their child--this is just how things are. But as the play continues, it becomes self-aware of its absurdity, veering into a farcical and campy dinner scene with Bobson's horrible parents--the selfish and sniping Bettina (Tavia Trepte) and the drugged-out and arrogant Bernard (David Ian Lee)--and runs out of things to say.

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