The Next Big Star: Marla Mindelle

photo: Broadway.com

The criminally underrated musical adaptation of Sister Act (by Alan Menken and Douglas Carter Beane, at the Broadway Theatre) is notable for many reasons, including a breakout performance by newcomer Patina Miller and the always-appreciated presence of Tony winner Victoria Clark. The show's real star turn, however, belongs to Marla Mindelle, as the shy novice nun who, with the help of Deloris Van Cartier (Miller), finds her voice and proceeds to raise it to the rafters. The role of Sister Mary Robert could easily be lost among the shuffle of plot twists and group numbers, but in Mindelle's exceedingly capable hands her journey became the focal point whenever she graced the stage. Mindelle's superb second-act solo, "The Life I Never Led," stopped the show cold when I saw it and left me mentally compiling a list of roles she needs to play (Fanny Brice, anyone?). All in all, don't be surprised when this insanely talented singing actress joins the ranks of Broadway's upper echelon.

ShowShowdown Q&A

Over the next few weeks, the ShowShowdown team will be providing our opinions on a variety of theatre-related questions that often come up. These are questions that interest us, fascinate us, and come up in conversation often. This blog has always been primarily concerned with reviewing live theatre in and around New York City, and that will not change; however, we thought it might be fun if we addressed our opinions about what we're most excited to see in the coming season, or who we find to be the most interesting stage performer around, or who we think would be great replacements for Bernadette and Jan in Follies. Our readers should also feel free to submit any questions or suggestions for this feature; simply click on one of our profiles and send us an e-mail with your proposed question, or post below in the comments section.

Our first Q&A topic will be: "Who do you think is the next big thing or star in the making?" Our contributors will be posting our responses here throughout the week, so be sure to check back regularly and see who we think has a promising career ahead of them on the boards!

Sweet and Sad

Laila Robins, J. Smith-Cameron
and Maryann Plunkett
Photo by Joan Marcus

While watching Richard Nelson's Sweet and Sad at the Public Theatre, I found myself thinking of how much I admire Tony Kushner and wondering why I found Kushner's political plays so compelling and Nelson's political play so dull. And here is the conclusion I reached: Nelson's characters care about politics, but Kushner's characters have skin in the game.

Yes, the people in Nelson's drama--an extended family gathering on the tenth anniversary of 9/11--are nicely drawn and beautifully acted. Yes, their little time-honed jabs and ancient assumptions are convincing. Yes, their miscommunications and sorrow are real. But there is no real conflict and no real resolution, and while that doesn't always matter, it matters here. (On the other hand, little happened in Nelson's gorgeous version of James Joyce's The Dead, yet everything happened).

In a note in the program, Artistic Director Oscar Eustis writes of asking Nelson to write a political work, and Sweet and Sad feels like it was indeed written theme-first rather than character- or plot-first. There's almost a sense of, now it's time to have someone express point of view A, now it's time to have someone express point of view B, and so on. Compare this with Kushner's plays, in which political arguments are also arguments for connection, for approval, for love, for life itself, in which politics is a blood sport that matters.

(membership tickets, audience right, a few rows back)

She Loves Him: Kate Baldwin Live at Feinstein's

The "him" that Kate Baldwin loves is the amazing Sheldon Harnick, lyricist of such classic shows as She Loves Me, Fiddler on the Roof, and The Apple Tree, and honored guest on this CD. And what's not to love? His range is broad, from romance to satire to history to heartbreak, and his lyrics are smart, funny, and sometimes breathtaking. I'm particularly fond of this section of "He Tossed a Coin" (not on this CD) from the Rothschilds:

Old coins, rare coins, treasures of an ancient kingdom
Numismatic wonders from days of old
Curios of silver, rarities of gold

You've got to like a guy who can use "numismatic" in a lyric, yet write something as simple and perfect as this ("Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler):

Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older, when did they?

Baldwin sings Harnick's "When Did I Fall in Love?," "A Trip to the Library," "Will He Like Me," a Fiddler medley, "Gorgeous," and more. Her soprano is clear and sweet, and she serves the songs and their stories superbly. But you know what? Harnick steals the CD with his heartfelt, full-throated rendition of "If I Were a Rich Man." And their duets on "To Life," "Dear Sweet Sewing Machine," "In My Own Lifetime," and "Sunrise, Sunset" are a sheer joy. The extraordinary band consists of music director Scott Cady at the piano, Andrew Sterman on an amazing array of woodwinds, and John Beale on bass.

The CD's one weakness is that Baldwin's patter doesn't hold up to repeated listenings. However, the invaluable PS Classics made the smart decision to put the patter interludes on their own tracks, so that they can be skipped when listening or transferring the CD to your iPod.

Do you suppose that in four or five decades, a young person will arrange a tribute evening to Kate Baldwin? I hope so. And I hope that PS Classics is around to record it.


(press copy)

Side Show

One of the best things about seeing a musical Off-Off-Broadway is hearing unmiked voices--when you can hear them. Unfortunately, only some of the cast members in the Sweet&Tart-Art of War production of Side Show (currently playing at the Secret Theatre in Long Island City) are consistently audible. It doesn't help that the band is behind the audience and often conflicts with, rather than works with, the performers. No matter how well a show is directed and how talented the people involved are, if you can't hear, it's all wasted.

Side Show is the fictionalized story of the Hilton sisters, conjoined twins who went from side shows to vaudeville to movies to working in a market as a cashier-bagger team. This is the third Side Show I've seen; the first two were the Broadway and  the Gallery Players versions. I've never liked the recitative, but this time around it struck me how much it damages the show by slowing down all conversations and limiting the performers' ability to act their lines. Someone I know always says, "Don't sing 'Pass the butter,'" and I have to agree. On the other hand, I was also struck by the show's many strengths, including frequently excellent music and lyrics and the compelling nature of the Hilton sisters' situation.

Director Brad Caswell made some excellent and interesting choices, particularly in the scenes where the sisters are still working in the side show. I think he made a mistake casting the twins, however: Nikki Van Cassele would have made a better Daisy and Erin Krom would have made a better Violet. Krom manages to rise above the miscasting with a heartfelt performance, while Cassele seems always to be straining to hold her energy in. Their voices also could have been better matched. I can't say much about Joshua Dixon's performance, as I could only hear about 10% of it, but it seemed like he might have been reasonably good as Terry, the man who gets the sisters into vaudeville. Alex Herrara has an interesting energy as Buddy, the man who teaches the sisters to sing and dance, and he looks right for the period, but he too was difficult to understand. Ken Bolander perhaps overacts as the creepy owner of the side show, but his presence and voice fill the space, for which I was grateful.

Costume designer Gary Lizardo did a good job on what must have been a small budget, but I wish he had given the rest of the side show denizens more character-driven clothing as he did with the Bearded Lady.  I'm not sure how much of Jenn Gartner's lighting design I saw, as it was an early performance and I suspect many cues were mishandled. Venita McLemore's choreography was enjoyable. The exhibit on the Hilton sisters in the lobby, created by Alyssa Van Gorder, did a good job of setting the mood and was fascinating to boot.

(I must mention that I only saw the first act. If I had been able to hear, I would have gladly stayed, but under the circumstances it seemed wiser to go home and buy water and canned food for the hurricane.) 

(press tix; 4th row center--right in front of the band, which was probably part of the problem)

FRINGE: Whale Song, or: Learning to Live With Mobyphobia

There are plenty of theater companies out there that produce plays about women who have lost their fathers: grief is a popular topic. But there are few that are willing to risk pursuing such a story from a different angle -- through, say, a whale-sized metaphor -- and it's a genuine pleasure to see Dreamscape Theatre (as they did for The Burning Cities Project) and artistic director Brad Raimondo behind the wheel of Claire Kiechel's Whale Song, or: Learning to Live with Mobyphobia. Maya (Hollis Witherspoon) reacts to the possible suicide of her father, James (Gavin Starr Kendall), by summoning a whale into the Hudson River; unable to confront it, she spends her days teaching her first-grade students all about the etymology of "orca" and the inevitability of death, and her nights sheltered in her apartment, listening to an increasingly surreal reporter (Rosie Sowa) who begins to address her directly.

The script's a bit unpolished, particularly with the inclusion of Shep, the "motherfucking" drummer (Jordan Douglas Smith), though that's to be expected, given that Maya hires him as a literal distraction. Maya's boyfriend, Mark (Ryan Feyk), also needs to be less of a pushover -- similar to the way Maya's sister, Sarah (Siri Hellerman), is the voice of reason; Witherspoon's a solid actress, but she's forced to self-generate much her angst. That said, Kiechel nails the ending, as we learn exactly why Maya hates whales so much -- it involves another death in the family -- and why she's so obsessed with stories and significance. In addition, Raimondo's direction is spot on, from the way Maya's thoughts are manifested in shipping boxes that gradually overflow throughout her apartment to the staging of the news segments, which is done behind Maya, so that it looks as if we are seeing her thoughts, rather than what's actually on TV. Credit's also due to Sam Kusnetz's sound design: given that the theme of the play is about finding meaning where you look for it, it helps to have some genuine whale songs echoing through the La MaMa space.