Black Tie

Photo: James Leynse

In A.R. Gurney's stilted, unconvincing play Black Tie, middle-aged Curtis is thrilled at the prospect of wearing dinner clothes and giving a traditional speech at the rehearsal dinner for his son's wedding; however, his future daughter-in-law Maya has other ideas. Through this not-particularly-compelling conflict, Black Tie ostensibly explores changing contemporary mores, but Curtis's cluelessness and bellowing are straight out of a late-20th-century sitcom. Even worse, we never see Maya, so there is a gaping hole where the play might be. The characters we do see are thinly drawn--when a ghost is the most complex character, something is off-balance. The occasional political references seem random and make Black Tie neither more meaningful nor more interesting. Mark Lamos directs the show with big takes and overdone business. Of the performers, only Ari Brand as the son manages to sound like an actual human being. Gregg Edelman as Curtis gives a one-note performance and his inverted-S posture is annoying and wrong for the role.

(Reviewer's comp; eighth row on the aisle.)

Lysistrata

Theodora Skipitares has directed a new version of Aristophanes' Lysistrata, featuring performers wearing Skipitares' masks or life-sized puppets. (The other puppet designers are Jane Catherine Shaw and Cecilia Schiller.) Her adaptation is true to Aristophanes' version, with the storyline (women withholding sex to convince their menfolk to give up war) and bawdy humor intact. Skipitares also includes recent footage about real women using Lysistratan techniques, including a sex strike by girlfriends of gang lords in Colombia. There is much creativity in this production, but, sad to say, the show is on the dull side and runs too long, even at an hour. Part of the problem is that Lysistrata itself is a one-joke, one-theme show. While it is interesting historically, it is not that interesting theatrically. Penis jokes wear thin. Skipitares' puppets and masks bring a sense of ceremony and period, but they are distancing, and it is hard to care about anything happening on stage for more than a few minutes. The video footage, while compelling, is difficult to see and the narration is difficult to hear. Lysistrata is blessed, however, by a fascinating score, composed, played, and sung by Sxip Shirey on/with a wonderful array of digital, plastic, and wooden devices.

(Reviewers comps, 4th row.)

Road to Qatar

Theatrical satires of theatrical performances have many things in common: enthusiastic but oblivious participants, extreme versions of theatrical clichés, and happy endings where the final product is kind of terrible yet kind of wonderful. The Road to Qatar (book and lyrics by Stephen Cole; music by David Krane) is the latest in this long and honored tradition, and it faces a difficult challenge: there have been so many satires of theatre clichés that the take-offs themselves are now clichés. While The Road to Qatar, a mix of [title of show] and the Bing Crosby-Bob Hope road movies, is amiable and pleasant, it is little more than a greatest hits collection of Jewish jokes, gay jokes, annoying mother jokes, foreigner jokes, and other extremely-well-worn categories of humor. The music is listener-friendly but undistinguished; the lyrics are occasionally clever but not often enough.

If The Road to Qatar focused on its unique (and true!) story of two strangers thrown together to write a musical in Dubai and less on the usual theatrical jokes, it might be stronger. Cole and Krane decided to go the broad-humor route, but more reality might have served them well--in particular more focus on how the men coped, became friends, dealt with the travel, and how they perhaps grew from the experience.

James Beaman and Keith Gerchak play the leads; the jokes about their being mirror images would work better if they actually looked alike (as the authors definitely do). Sarah Stiles and Bruce Warren bring much life to the show with their wide range of talents and deep senses of humor. Michael Bottari and Ronald Case's puppets are delightful, and Bob Richard's choreography is fun.

(Reviewer's comp; 4th row)

David Parsons Dance

Photo: B. Docktor

Years ago I took a friend to see his first evening of dance. Afterward, I asked him what he thought. He said, "Beautiful people doing beautiful things with their beautiful bodies. What's not to like?" He could have been talking about Parsons Dance, at the Joyce theatre through February 6th.

World premiere Portinari, choreographed by Parsons, was inspired by Brazilian painter, muralist and political activist Candido Portinari and is a duet between the artist (the brilliant and seemingly indefatigable Miguel Quinones) and his muse. I (deliberately) did not read the explanation before seeing the piece, and I perceived it as a heartbreaking meditation on grief.

Another premiere, Love, oh Love, choreographed by Monica Bill Barnes to music by Kenny Rogers, Lionel Richie and Diana Ross, explores the push-pull of relationships (including same-gender relationships, a welcome touch) with verve and humor.

From the established repertory, Bachiana, set to Bach's Orchestral Suites and Air on a G String, represents the best of David Parsons: joy and exuberance unfolding like sinuous machinery, each movement leading to the next with graceful inevitability.

And if you haven't seen Parson's signature piece Caught, you really, really, really must. You'll believe a man can fly.

(Seat N1, reviewer comps)

Reviewer or Consumer Advocate?

Art & Photo © Susan B. Glattstein

I have decided to start specifying where I sat--and how much I paid to sit there--at the end of every review I write. And here's why:

Have you ever gone to see a well-reviewed show, only to discover that (a) it didn't work from the cheap seats or (b) it didn't justify the cost of the good seats? And did you ever think, well, if I sat where the critics sat, with free tickets, I also might have loved it?

Me too.

There is a saying that where you sit is where you stand, and it can be literally true when critics for the mainstream media receive comps for the best seats in the house. It doesn't matter to them if there is a dead spot in the back of the orchestra under the mezzanine or if the lead actor's performance doesn't register past the tenth row. They also never have to experience the pain of spending a small fortune to see a show that, well, kinda sucks.

Most of us in the blogosphere are lower on the food chain than the mainstream critics (some of us much lower). Yes, we are fortunate enough to receive comps to some shows, but we still pay to see others. Our seats, like yours, can be anywhere in the theatre.

Theatre is more enjoyable from good seats. That's why they call them good seats. And even a terrible play is not quite as painful when you haven't paid for it, while seeing a wonderful play for free can make you feel like the luckiest person on earth. On the other hand, paying a ton of money can skew an audience member's response to a show. It makes some people determined to have a good time--no matter what. Me? I get angry. That's why I have largely stopped buying expensive tickets. I have yet to see Billy Elliot or Jersey Boys and will probably never see Spider-Man. Is any one show really worth $141.50? (Okay, the Sondheim Celebration at the New York Philharmonic was worth every cent we all paid, but that was an exceptional, exceptional evening.)

As a reviewer, I am vigilant not to let comp tickets influence how I review a show. I admit that I occasionally worry that a negative review will get me blacklisted, but I write the negative review anyway. Otherwise, what's the point? And as I write about shows for which I received comps, I keep their real-world ticket prices in mind. The bottom line is that I strive always to acknowledge the actuality of theatre-going for most theatre-goers.

I guess I've come to feel that being a reviewer is a consumer-advocate position. I know that some critics posit theories that expand one's theatrical experiences, open one's eyes, and blow one's mind, and more power to them. I'm more of the "it's good, here's why, give it a chance" school. And I want my recommendations--and un-recommendations--to be as useful to my readers as possible. And that is why I made the decision to start specifying at the end of each review where I sat and how much I paid to sit there.

One other thing: when I am given reviewer tickets, I will of course honor the embargo not to publish my review until opening night. When I pay for tickets for a preview, I will generally wait until opening night to post, unless there are particular circumstances (e.g., the show is already good or has become news in some way). And if I see an early preview, I will say so.

Here's hoping that the extra information at the end of my reviews will make my reviews more relevant and useful to you.

To readers: Do you have any suggestions on other ways to improve the utility of reviews for you? Please share them if you do.

To other reviewers: What do you think?

Terri White

Terri White does not identify a theme to her show at Feinstein's at the Regency, but it is nevertheless clear: the theme is joy. Not that White doesn't sing a sad song or two, and act them nicely. It's simply that she is bursting with happiness. After some tough times, she now has a happy marriage and a rejuvenated career (including playing Stella Deems in the upcoming Follies in Washington, D.C.) and enough energy to light up a small town or two. Utilizing her strong, attractive voice and a ton of personality, White sings exuberant versions of "Necessity" (which she sang in Finian's Rainbow on Broadway), "I Am Changing" (from Dreamgirls, which she briefly pouts about not being cast in), "When You're Good to Mama" (which she sang in Chicago), and the cabaret favorite "Here's to Life." Her version of "More Than You Know," sung to her wife in the front row, had both women and some audience members in tears. White's patter has some funny moments, and her imitation of Nell Carter singing "Mean to Me" is nothing short of hysterical. White's show could use a bit more polish, and some of her interactions with her band are a little too "in-joke-y." Her voice occasionally falls off of a note or two, and her physical mannerisms can be repetitive. Overall, however, watching her perform is a great deal of fun. White is at Feinstein's again on January 30th. (Note: I had a reviewer's comps and sat to the side.)