Peter and the Starcatcher

The delightful Peter and the Starcatcher, the Story Theatre-esque prequel to Peter Pan,  is now on Broadway at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre (my review of the Off-Broadway production at the New York Theatre Workshop is here). As with any move from a smaller to a larger theatre, the first question is, how did it survive the move?

Pretty well.

On one hand, the show has retained its high spirits, silly jokes, and excellent cast. On the other hand, it has not been restaged sufficiently to reach the sides of the theatre--that is, entire bits (very funny bits!) that occur center stage aren't visible to a chunk of the audience due to some of the cast standing in the way. Also, the Brooks Atkinson has some seats that are just too far to the side to begin with; in addition, Peter and the Starcatcher has added a proscenium to the existing proscenium, further limiting the view from the sides. This is unfortunate because Peter and the Starcatcher is so much fun that you don't want to miss a second of it.

Luckily, Peter and the Starcatcher comes to Broadway retaining its most important asset: the fabulous Christian Borle. (Many thanks to the otherwise-dreadful TV show Smash, on which Borle appears, for making it possible for him to stay with Peter.) As the somewhat-pathetic villain Black Stache, Borle reminds me of Kevin Kline in The Pirates of Penzance, which is serious praise indeed! His slapstick is elegant and perfectly timed, and he raises empty bluster to an art form. Kudos also to Celia Keenan-Bolger for her lovely turn as Molly, the Starcatcher-in-Training. Her heartfelt performance provides the show with the emotional anchor that makes it more than just excellent fluff.

Peter and the Starcatcher is a treat for children (fart jokes) and adults (Ayn Rand jokes), and it uses theatre's unique strengths to provide an experience that could not be equaled on TV or in a movie. (Okay, I would shave about 15 minutes from it, but otherwise . . .)  It's a wonderful starter show if you want to introduce your kids to theatre, and it's a delight for someone who has seen dozens, even hundreds of shows.

(press ticket, 4th row, audience right, three seats from the aisle)

Peter and the Starcatcher

There's a star being caught in Peter and the Starcatcher, and it ain't the unnamed Boy (Adam Chanler-Berat) who will, by play's end, become Peter Pan. Which is not to say that Chanler-Berat and his cohorts, Carson Elrod and David Rossmer ("We're lost!" "Boys!" runs one of the knowing quips in the show) aren't entertaining. But in this prequel, lovingly and creatively adapted by Rick Elice from the loving and creative novel by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson, the star is, as ever, our delightfully villainous Captain Hook -- or should I say, Black Stache (Christian Borle), since it's not until a remarkable, scene-stealing moment late in Act II that he is "disarmed." Not only does Borle enhance any ensemble he's a part of (there's a delirious mermaid sequence), but he solidifies all of his solo sequences, making quick work of the script's alliterations and even quicker work of his character's own perpetual flubs ("Abandon spleen!" he cries, as the Neverland begins to sink). It takes an expert at physical comedy to appear to be so effortlessly clumsy, be it his attempts to strike a pose or simply to rhyme in verse, and though he jests that iambic pentameter would be box-office poison, I expect that a healthy dose of Mr. Borle is antidote enough to salvage any scene. (That explains why Peter and the Starcatcher is so much honest-to-goodness fun: there are no scenes in need of salvage.)

Peter Pan brags that he'll never grow up; with theater as good as this, audiences will never have to.
[Read full review here]
[Win two free tickets here]

The Big Meal

The Big Meal shifts across eighty years of dinners, starting with a random pickup between Sam and his waitress, Nicole, and ending with an epically casual goodbye that confronts death as powerfully as anything I've seen on stage since Young Jean-Lee's Lear. He does so with spot-on language as strong as anything from natural contemporaries like Annie Baker, and if some find his characters a bit thin, they're missing the universal appeal of Dan LeFranc's approach. As for Sam Gold, there's simply not enough I can say about this director's ability to stage concept-heavy pieces in a fashion that keeps the emphasis on the characters.

Even if you absolutely abhor structural works, I strongly recommend The Big Meal. Knowing that the last meal is only just around the corner -- but not for whom -- keeps the stakes (or steaks) almost unbearably tense, and watching life find a way to bloom regardless is an interesting affair. Time flies by, but it's hard to register those changes in ourselves: not so in LeFranc's world, where characters go from hating squalling gibbonous brats to monkeying right along with them, where fractures mend in a tragic instant (or fester in fast-forward), and where memories (of, say, Barcelona) revise themselves in real-time. 

[Read full review here]

Barbara Cook: Let's Fall in Love

It's almost silly for Barbara Cook to sing "Let's Fall in Love" to the audience at Feinstein's; we all fell in love with her years ago--and, as she proves yet again, with good reason.

How do we love her? Let's me count the ways. We love her unparalleled interpretive skills. We love her wry sense of humor. We love the immediacy of her performance, as if every emotion in every song were happening for the first time that moment. We love her anecdotes. We love how she continues to challenge herself (her latest show includes over ten songs she's never sung before). We love how well she wields a mike. We love how well she wields the f-word.

For me, the highlight of her latest show is her largely acapella version of "House of the Rising Sun," which is quietly intense and beautiful. The other highlight is "Here's to Life," which she imbues with 85 years of experience, wisdom, and love. Her unmiked version of "Imagine" has the audience hanging on her every word, barely breathing. Her take on "The Nearness of You" is romantic and sexy. There are no clunkers; seventy minutes with Barbara Cook is seventy minutes in very good hands.

At the performance I saw, Cook seemed a bit under the weather. As a result, the show was only totally superb instead of completely transcendent. Cook on a bad day is what many singers would love to be on the best day of their lives.

Cook is at Feinstein's through April 21. For reviews of her other shows, click here, here, and here.

(press ticket; audience right)

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Anyone want to join Show Showdown? None of us get paid, but we do often get free tickets, and it's great fun having a forum where you can write as long or short as you like and review the whole show or just focus on a detail that interests you. If you are interested, please send me a writing sample at retsac@gmail.com.

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I'm looking forward to hearing from you!

The Mikado

Victoria Clark, Kelli O'Hara
Photo: Jennifer Broski

There are (rare) times in life when we get to experience perfection. One of mine was last night--listening to Kelli O'Hara's simple, elegant, gorgeous version of "The suns whose rays are all ablaze." Perfect.

The entire evening was glorious. Who could ask for anything more than The Mikado performed by O'Hara, Christopher Fitzgerald, Victoria Clark, the Collegiate Chorale, and the American Symphony Orchestra (under Ted Sperling's able baton)?

I could: that it turns into a production, rather than a one-nighter, and that it runs for years.