Ritter, Dene, Voss

Photo: Dave Beckerman

Thomas Bernhard may be one of Europe's great postwar writers but his plays are rarely seen in the US. This is a shame. The production of his Ritter, Dene, Voss which opened last night at La Mama has percolated since 2006, and it is a thing of finished beauty. Two sisters, wealthy actresses who perform only what and when they choose, prepare for the return of their tubercular philosopher brother from a sanatarium. Painfully, like the turning of a screw, the sisters exercise the frictions of their lives. Bernhard's fluid yet joyfully abrupt language (translated by Peter Jansen and Kenneth Northcott) is the river from which the true, sad, spiritually ugly faces of the repressed Dene (Maev Beaty) and the looser, spiteful Ritter (Shannon Perreault) swim into startling focus. When Ludwig finally arrives the tension has reached a high pitch. What will he be like? What will he do? Equally important, will he spoil the play, so brilliantly constructed so far? Bernhard's play first meets, then defies expectations, with enough linguistic flair and dramatic panache for two or three plays. Director Adam Seelig and his superb cast wear this wonderful work like a surgical glove.
Excerpted from Theater Review (NYC): Ritter, Dene, Voss by Thomas Bernhard on Blogcritics.

Chess

Photo: Chris Mueller

The production of Chess at the Signature Theatre in Arlington, VA, directed by Eric Schaeffer, is the umpteenth version of a show that started as a concept album and still hasn't made it to solid musical theatre. The score, by Abba's Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus, is energetic and frequently engaging, but many (most?) of the numbers lack the character revelation and dramatic arc that distinguish theatre songs from other sorts of music. The book's combination of love triangle, chess match, and geopolitics never gels, and many characters are given little, well, character. Euan Morton is wonderful as Anatoly, the Russian chess player, giving him a dimension and reality far past what's written. Jeremy Kushnier does pretty well with the obnoxious American chess player Freddie, although he is hampered by the character's sheer unlikeability. Jill Paice as Florence fails to take advantage of some of the best songs in the show to create a emotionally believable character. In singing the elegant "Someone Else's Story," she seems unaware of what the song means and too focused on showing off her (sometimes annoying) voice. Among the supporting cast, Christopher Bloch stands out as Anatoly's second, Molokov, and Eleasha Gamble sings beautifully as Anatoly's wife Svetlana, although her acting is marred by theatrical pauses that would put Elaine Stritch to shame. Chess is a reasonably entertaining evening in the theatre, but it would be no less entertaining simply to listen to one of the recorded versions, particularly the Original Broadway Cast CD with the amazing Judy Kuhn as Florence.

Exit/Entrance

The first act of Aidan Mathews' Exit/Entrance features a not particularly likeable old couple; the second act features a not particularly likeable young couple. They may or may not be the same couple. Much of the dialogue is elliptical. The wives want honest conversation; the husbands do not. Since both husbands are self-centered, manipulative, and condescending, it is unclear why their wives love them. Mathews seems to be attempting something along the Beckett-Albee line, but he lacks their wit, intelligence, and ability to be compelling. Linda Thorson rises above the material with a subtle performance that gives her character dimension; the other three performers fail to inflate their cardboard characters.

Roadkill Confidential

Photo: Carl Skutsch

Trevor is the stereotypical tortured and misunderstood artist, unable to satisfyingly connect with her lover or anyone else. In real life such people tend to be tiresome, but Trevor—though like everyone else here a very consciously written character—is written and played so well (by Sheila Callaghan and Rebecca Henderson respectively) that she's unceasingly interesting to watch, whether squirming silently in front of the war-blasting TV, politely seething during one of her neighbor's uninvited visits, or monologuing to the camera so that her face appears in creepy, giant video closeup.

Do her activities at her rural studio go beyond the merely disgusting (collecting roadkill and incorporating it into art installations) to include something more sinister? A cocksure FBI agent is on the scene to try and find out. Projection is used smartly and integrally throughout the production; kudos must also go to director Kip Fagan, whose overall vision keeps this talky piece moving smoothly, and to the artistic mastery of the tech crew.

Excerpted from Theater Review (NYC): Roadkill Confidential on Blogcritics.

Love, Loss, and What I Wore

Due to various circumstances, I have now seen Love, Loss, and What I Wore twice. Without these circumstances, I would not have seen it even once, as my interest in clothing is at the nano level. I would have missed a delightful and touching evening (well, two delightful and touching evenings). LLAWIW uses clothing as a launchpad from which to discuss growing up, romance, family dynamics, aging, and the strange and wonderful adventure of being a woman. At times it has the audience laughing hysterically; at other times, sniffles can be heard. Helen Carey, Victoria Clark, Nancy Giles, Stacy London, and Jamie-Lynn Sigler, who make up the current cast, are all wonderful. By the end of the show, you want to go out to dinner with them and continue the conversation.

Jurassic Parq: The Broadway Musical

Photo: Caite Hevner

Jurassic Parq: The Broadway Musical tells the Jurassic Park story from the dinosaurs' point of view, commentingalong the wayon sexuality, family, musical-theatre tropes, and the struggle between science and religion. The plot, such as it is, is simple: the scientists who brought the dinosaurs back to life made them all female so that they couldn't reproduce, but one of the T rexes has suddenly developed a penis, along with a T rex-sized desire to use it. The story is narrated by Morgan Freeman, who may be Samuel L. Jackson, and who is in any event played by a white guy (the marvelously deadpan Lee Seymour), and the show features funny, energetic songs (by Emma Barash, Bryce Norbitz, Marshall Pailet, and Stephen Wargo) and top-level dance, fabulously choreographed by Kyle Mullins and energetically danced by the strong cast. Jurassic Parq provides a 70-minute good time, full of silliness and pointed satire. I suspect that the title is unduly optimistic;however, being an excellent non-Broadway musical is not chopped liver. (My 18-year-old nephew described it on his Facebook page as "the shit," which I understand is quite a good thing to be.)