Balm in Gilead

Photo Credit: Torso XXI by Colm McCarthy

The people at the T. Schreiber Theatre are doing something amazing over on 26th Street. In their production of Lanford Wilson's Balm in Gilead, on the seventh floor of a nondescript office building, they are vividly recreating a dive diner from the 1960s, with its sad and striving denizens. The production is so intimate and accurate that being in the audience feels like sitting in a booth in the corner, watching the world go by. The direction by Peter Jenson is smart, and the ensemble acting is excellent. Among the standouts, Belle Caplis, full of sad astonishment at how her life has turned out, nails her long (15 minutes?) monologue. And Jill Bianchini, as the smart hooker with more of a heart than she wants to have, gives a master class in brilliant listening.

But the play is a bit of a problem. In providing this slice of life, Wilson opts for conversations that trail off, people wandering in and out, overlapping dialogue, and a minimal plot. There are times that the show works brilliantly, but it also has many frustrating and boring moments (kind of like life, huh?). Overall, however, it's an impressive, sometimes heartbreaking piece of work, and seeing it in a small theatre, with its cast of 30 or so performers, is a real treat.

Saint Joan

In the Queens Players' new production, Shelleen Kostabi approaches the role of the Maid of Orléans with an admirable balance of holy righteousness and teenage vulnerability. Surrounded by an excellent cast who, in some cases, have created outsize performances that would be more fitting for a larger theater, she gives a nuanced and generous performance. Despite that mismatch, it is a most rewarding production; it's rare in an Off Off Broadway house to see a cast this large with no major weak links, doing a play this strenuous, with perfect pacing and complete professionalism.

The great thing about art is that it stays with us long after its creators are gone. Through the great characters of Saint Joan—among them the Inquisitor, the warrior Dunois (the Bastard of Orléans), and above all the Maid herself—George Bernard Shaw, like a time-hopping Dr. Who, speaks through the centuries backwards and forwards about nationalism, church and state, the place of women, and so on, all issues that continue to galvanize cultures around the world.


Excerpted from Theater Review (NYC): Saint Joan on Blogcritics.

Short Takes

Estrogenius: The Manhattan Theatre Source’s yearly festival of plays by women, Estrogenius suffers from the weaknesses and benefits from the strengths familiar to anyone who watches evenings of short plays. Some of the shows turn out to really be skits, as in Not Me (written by Marguerite Louise Scott, directed by Sarah Jenkins), in which a young woman goes to Dr. Fraued (sic) because her best friend has lost her head. Some are well-written but need work, as in Spring Break (written by Annalisa Loeffler, directed by DeLisa White), in which a mother (the excellent Paula Hoza) and daughter share confidences that change their views of themselves and their family. Some are almost there, as in The God Particle (written by Christina Gorman, directed by Kathryn McConnell), which has excellent dialogue and an unusual and fascinating concept but awkward character development. And some are flat-out excellent, as in Who You Got to Believe, the story of two people who bond over their losses in post-Katrina New Orleans. Economically written by Charlene A. Donaghty, beautifully directed by Zoya Kachadurian, and movingly acted by Sheilagh Weymouth and L.B. Williams, Who You Got to Believe is the sort of play that reminds me why I go to evenings of one acts! (Full disclosure: I have had two plays done at Estrogenius festivals.)

Sing-along Sound of Music: There were about 20 of us in the movie theatre. Richard Rodgers’ music is a pleasure to sing. Oscar Hammerstein II lyrics are uneven and repetitive (didn’t Maria have any other favorite things?). Julie Andrews is lovely and can almost act. Christopher Plummer can definitely act, but doesn’t always bother to. The Baroness is given a bum deal, with even her own hairdo against her. I love this movie. A good time was had by all.

Off-Broadway Close Up: If you’re not aware of the wonderful theatre-oriented evenings at Merkin Hall, it’s time to check them out. (Coming up next is All The Things You Are, a tribute to Jerome Kern with Rebecca Luker and Kate Baldwin.) The most recent evening, Off-Broadway Close Up, included songs from Forbidden Broadway, performed by their originators; “Die, Vampire, Die,” from [tos], with the original cast; Carol Demas doing a sad and lovely version of “Best Friend” from Getting My Act Together; and the insanely energetic, generously talented Jason Robinson doing a medley of Off-Broadway songs.

Nothing Like a Dame: The yearly benefits for the Phyllis Newman Women’s Health Initiative always have much to offer, and this year—a tribute to Comden and Green—was no exception. For me the highlights were Polly Bergen singing “The Party’s Over,” Victoria Clark singing a song from A Doll’s Life, Nancy Opel’s manic “If You Haven't But You Did,” everything Marc Kudish did, Mario Cantone, and Jessica Molaskey and John Pizzarelli. A major problem: the show was grossly overmiked in a small theatre in which the bulk of the performers didn’t need mikes at all.

The Fortune Teller

Photo: Adam Forgasch

Halloween may be over, but luckily Phantom Limb's spookily entertaining, creepily evocative piece of marionette theatre, The Fortune Teller, is running at HERE through December 4th. With horripilating music by Danny Elfman and Erik Sanko, elegant design by a large and talented team, and smart direction by Erik Sanko (who also made the wonderful marionettes) and Jessica Grindstaff, The Fortune Teller is the tale of seven strangers gathered on a dark night for the reading of a will. As it happens, each has a secret . . .

Woyzeck

Toy Box Theatre's production provides sufficient proof that this work, which poet Alison Croggon has called the "ur-play of modern theatre," was a lot more than an experiment. The same company, with Jonathan Barsness at the helm then as now, also brought us last year's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore, and clearly they're just as comfortable with modern material as they are with the 17th century, for Woyzeck, though it dates from the 1830's, is nothing if not modern. They've whittled down the character list, as they did with the previous production, but retained what's important and presented it feelingly, cuttingly, and in thoroughly Büchnerian spirit. This production is almost sure to leave you thinking—and nodding in appreciation at the talent Barsness has applied and gathered.

Excerpted from Theater Review (NYC): Woyzeck on Blogcritics.
Photo by Teresa Olson.

Next to Normal

Seeing Next to Normal with the new cast is, at least at first, a reverse "invasion of the body snatchers" experience. These people are saying the same words, singing the same songs, and following the same blocking, but they are not the Goodmans we've known for years. Aiii! And then there's the challenge of seeing anyone other than Alice Ripley as Diana; Ripley owns that role. However, really good writing thrives on different interpretations, and Next to Normal is really good writing. Alice Ripley's Diana was crazy, a needle stuck in the manic groove. Marin Mazzie's Diana is depressed, slow-moving, sadly aware of what she's missing and what her illness has cost her family. With Ripley, Next to Normal was the story of a woman unhinged. With Mazzie, Next to Normal is the story of a family trying to survive ("what doesn't kill me doesn't kill me"). Both interpretations are legitimate, both are compelling, both are heart-breaking. I still think that no one can touch Ripley's performance--it's a perfect melding of actor and role. But Mazzie comes in a close second, with a mature, thoughtful performance. And while Ripley's ravaged voice fit her interpretation of the role, Mazzie's gorgeous voice is a pleasure and a gift.

Brian d'Arcy James remains far and away the best Dan, although Jason Daniely's performance has improved quite a bit over time. Meghann Fahy does an unconvincing imitation of the excellent Jennifer Damiano as Natalie; however, her understudy MacKenzie Mauzy provides a unique and interesting take on the role (though she needs to be careful about her tendency toward overacting). Kyle Dean Massey is good as the brother, although not great, and original cast members Adam Chanler-Berat and Louis Hobson remain fresh and excellent. Hobson's character is often interrupted by bits of song, and he needs to seem as though he's just pausing to think. It's a particular skill and one he does well, which is important since he almost never gets to say two sentences straight through. And I appreciate the book, lyrics, and music even more every time I see the show (12 or 13 times at this point).