DEINDE

Rachael Hip-Flores, Isaiah Tanenbaum
Photo: Justin Hoch

In August Schulenburg's wonderful new play, DEINDE, a Flux Theatre Ensemble production, it's 2051, and a virus is decimating the human race. Scientists at QuamBi are striving desperately to find a cure, but the virus mutates so quickly that they can't keep up. Then they are given access to DEINDE, the Dineural Entangled Intelligence Network Device, which allows them to merge their minds with computers, thereby increasing their brains' processing power exponentially. "What this means," explains Nabanita Ghosh (the calmly excellent Nitya Vidyasagar), "is we can finally keep up with the virus, its mutations, that line we can’t cross because the math is too small or too fast."

The neuroscientist leading the DEINDE project (the delightful Matthew Trumbull) proceeds to explain the rules, which are straightforward: when using DEINDE, think only of work; do not keep the connection live outside of work; do not use DEINDE to communicate with each other; and do not use DEINDE to access the world online. (This being theatre and this being science fiction, we know that all four rules will be broken; the fun is in learning how.)

Since DEINDE is new technology, the scientists are allowed to decide whether or not they want to participate. The younger scientists are eager to get started, while the oldest scientist declines the opportunity. Whether he is wise or close-minded, too much in love with the past or right to distrust the future, becomes one of the many intriguing questions in this play. I'm still not sure of the answer.

Schulenburg has a deep understanding of how people think and feel, and he writes convincing characters full of deeply human contradictions, as epitomized when one of the scientists becomes violently enraged and switches, frighteningly quickly, from apologetic to blaming to dangerous and back again. While the physicality of the scene as staged could be more effective, it is nevertheless chilling because the violent man's behavior and emotional changes are so real.

In DEINDE, Schulenburg explores technology, relationships, that old standby hubris, and, oh yeah, the meaning of life. That's a lot to cover in a two-act play, and he does it with humor, compassion, and some gorgeous dialogue. There's a monologue spoken by a character who has just learned that her life is going to change profoundly; it is a thing a beauty. In the emotional sense, the monologue is full of fear and joy and humanity. In the theatrical sense, it is full of movement and character development. Schulenburg takes on a lot, and he delivers. (Schulenburg also knows how to take care of business. DEINDE begins with a great deal of exposition, which could be deadly if not well-presented. Schulenburg is wily enough to have the person delivering the exposition be a bit of a silly character, excited, overenthusiastic, and amusing. The character is so entertaining that the exposition just slips on in. A spoonful of sugar does make the medicine go down.)

DEINDE is intelligently directed by Heather Cohn, who mines the emotions and themes of the plays, guides her wonderful cast to wonderful performances, and manages the traffic of changing scenes in a way that actually adds to the play's momentum (this may sound like a trivial thing to mention, but badly staged scene changes can damage a show); I would only wish that some of the tricky sight lines had been dealt with better. Isaiah Tanenbaum, an actor who is always a pleasure to watch, reaches new heights here in a very demanding role. Sol Marina Crespo makes much of a relatively small part; Rachael Hip-Flores starts a little weakly but ends up giving a strong performance; and Alyssa Simon nails the monologue discussed above.

The Tony Award nominations were announced today. What a pity that they are limited to Broadway when there is work of this caliber being done just across the river.

(press ticket, second row center)

Another Year, Another Tonys

Today's Tony Award nominations underline that, in its own way, the Fabulous Invalid isn't dead yet, despite its attempts to commit suicide via obscenely high ticket prices. It has recreated itself as the most prestigious stop for productions that have started elsewhere. The word "Broadway" still has a shine to it, and Broadway theatres, particularly the most ornate ones, are houses of theatre worship. The thrill when the lights go down is like no other.

Random Thoughts on the Nominations

• None of the plays nominated were as good as some of the shows I've seen Off-Broadway and Off-Off-Broadway this season, such as Mac Rogers' Blast Radius,  and Jeffrey Sweet's Court-Martial at Fort Devens.
  
• I hope Once wins a ton of awards.
  
• I wish that Nicole Ari Parker had received a nomination for A Streetcar Named Desire rather than Stockard Channing for Other Desert Cities.
  
• I'm not as shocked or disappointed as many people that Bernadette Peters failed to receive a nomination for Follies, as I didn't think she was effective in the role. However, for Ron Raines to get a nomination and Peters not to is strange. However, Peters' category was more competitive.
  
• I like the combination of old guard and young'uns in Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role in a Musical. I assume Audra McDonald will walk home off the prize for Porgy and Bess--her first Tony in a leading role.
  
• I was surprised to see Christian Borle in the supporting category, but quite glad to see that he received a nomination. His performance in Peter and the Starcatcher is sheer pleasure.
  
• The category Best Performance by an Actress in a Featured Role in a Play is good reminder of how bizarre acting competitions are in the first place. How can one judge the relative merit of, for example, Linda Emond's dramatic performance, Spencer Kayden's energetical silliness, and Celia Keenan-Bolger's wry combination of sweetness and strength?
  
• Best Performance by an Actress in a Featured Role in a Musical is a tough one--too bad they can't all win. Plus many good performances were left out--in particular, Natasha Yvette Williams from Porgy and Bess.

So, come June 10th, I'll gather with my sister Holly and her tribe at my friend Susan's, where we will make predictions, throw out bon mots, criticize people's clothing, eat ourselves silly, and maybe even enjoy a speech or a number or two or three. No matter the specifics, a good time will be had by all.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

A Midsummer Night's Dream may be William Shakespeare's most indestructible play. The plot is so solidly silly, the characters' desires and dreams so clearly etched, that the show is always fun. I have never seen a boring Midsummer Night's Dream; unfortunately, I've also never seen an ideal one. In many cases the weakness has taken the shape of a movie or TV star who simply lacks the chops to do Shakespeare. For example, a production years ago in California featured Malcolm-Jamal Warner and Loretta Divine, both of whom are fine performers, but both of whom just couldn't pull off their roles.

In the current, highly entertaining production at the Classic Stage Company, imaginatively and clearly directed by Tony Speciale and nicely choreographed by George De La Peña, the marquee names are Bebe Neuwirth and Christina Ricci. Both are game, attractive, hard-working, good-humored, and not that good. While they handle the physical demands of their roles beautifully, neither expresses the music of the dialogue--or sometimes even the meaning.

The rest of the cast, however, ranges from good-enough to quite good, with Anthony Heald leading the cast with two distinct and excellent performances, one as Theseus and one as Oberon. Jordan Dean, Nick Gehlfuss, and Halley Wegryn Gross do well as Lysander, Demetrius, and Helena, respectively. Taylor Mac brings much energy and humor--but perhaps too much shtick--to the roles of Egeus and Puck; it's one thing to casually toss off "Lord, what fools these mortals be" and another to dump it in the trash.

In many ways, the true stars of this production are Speciale, De La Peña, set designer Mark Wendland, costume designer Andrea Lauer, lighting designer Tyler Micoleau, and in particular, fight choreographer Carrie Brewer, who has staged as funny and convincing a scene of extended slapstick as I have ever seen (kudos too to Ricci, Dean, Gehlfuss, and Gross for their energy, bravery, and physical skill). The show is visually enchanting, from falling leaves to evening lights to very attractive, albeit gratuitous, semi-nudity. The whole audience gets to experience the dream.

This is not the ideal production I hope someday to see, but it is an extremely pleasurable evening in the theatre.

(tdf ticket; first row, extreme, extreme side)

A Streetcar Named Desire

In contrast to, for example, Liv Ullman's version of A Streetcar Named Desire (or David Cromer's or Edward Hall's), Emily Mann's version respects and serves the play. It is clear and straightforward and largely well-cast; it allows the beauty and sadness of Tennessee Williams' brilliant piece to come through. In brief, it is excellent. (Note: this review assumes a preexisting knowledge of Streetcar; if you want to avoid spoilers, go no further.)

Nicole Ari Parker, Blair Underwood
Photo: Ken Howard

First, let's get the whole multi-culti casting thing out of the way: the actors' races are pretty much irrelevant. What is relevant is their classes, and here we have one of this production's few flaws. Daphne Rubin-Vega's Stella never lived at Belle Reve, the DuBois estate in the 1940s; this Stella grew up in a small apartment in a not-so-great neighborhood in the 1980s. It doesn't help that Rubin-Vega's accent comes and goes and that her performance is largely awkward and unconvincing.

Blair Underwood brings a level of elegance to Stanley that is also not quite right for the part, but his performance is strong and moving, and it's easy to extend suspension of disbelief his way. I did however have to occasionally remind myself that Stella had supposedly "married down"; in this production Stanley seems, well, classier than Stella.

Wood Harris is unusual casting as Mitch, again for reasons having nothing to do with race. Mitch is traditionally overweight and a bit shleppy. Harris is thin and attractive, but his presentation of Mitch as an awkward, nerdy guy works well. His Mitch is gangly, all arms and legs, and genuinely sweet. It's a nice performance.

Which brings us to Nicole Ari Parker as Blanche. Any Streetcar lives or dies by its Blanche, and Parker is superb. Her Blanche begins confident, with flashes of vulnerability and fear, and loses her bravado bit by painful bit as her last-chance refuge turns perilous. Parker's Blanche is fully realized, worthy of sympathy yet obnoxious and annoying, manipulative yet somehow loving, self-centered but also self-aware.  Her descent into madness is well-calibrated and heart-breaking.

This production is also well-served by the supporting cast and Mann's use of them. The between-scenes' depictions of New Orleans are their own entertaining playlets. The "flowers-for-the-dead" woman is genuinely creepy. Aaron Clifton Moten as the teenager who Blanche semi-seduces offers a perfect combination of awkwardness and willingness to have this adventure.

In addition, Terence Blanchard's music sets the mood perfectly, although I missed having a distinct, rinky-tink piece of period music to represent Blanche's final dance with her young husband. The set by Eugene Lee and costumes by Paul Tazewell are just right. The lighting by Edward Pierce is marvelously evocative, and when Mitch insists on really seeing Blanche, the light from the bare bulb is a devastating flash of lightning.

Another thing that must be discussed is the audience. As has been reported elsewhere, Underwood's truly gorgeous chest is indeed greeted with hooting and hollering. However, by the last fourth of the show the night I saw it, the audience was largely quieted, aware that what was going on was no laughing matter. By the time of the rape, the audience felt appropriately horrified. I wonder if the blocking and/or costuming was changed to make sure that Underwood was not seen topless again.

Any Streetcar cast necessarily has wrestle with ghosts. Marlon Brando's "Stella!" is iconic, and while Blanche's "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers" is not associated with any one performer, it is well know to the point of cliche. A sign of the excellence of this production is that these moments are completely successful. Underwood's "Stella" is less the bellow of a wounded animal and more a genuine regretful neediness; it's even a little sad. And Parker's "kindness of strangers" is a heart-breaking moment of complete surrender.

Because Mann chooses an approach that serves the play, and because the show is largely well-acted, this is a well-balanced Streetcar. The characters make sense, even at their worst. Blanche is snotty and a pain-in-the-ass, but she is also trapped in the wrong time and place and damaged beyond repair. Stanley is violent and mean, but Blanche really does turn his life upside down. Before she arrives, he and Stella are happy together making those "colored lights"; Blanche takes away their privacy, is condescending and rude, and drives a wedge between them. Stanley's rape of Blanche is not about sex; it is about reclaiming his turf. It is awful, it is unacceptable, but it is not incomprehensible. And Stanley's decision to tell Mitch the truth about Blanche is completely fair and reasonable, even while being thoroughly destructive of two people's lives. Oddly enough, though Blanche is completely dishonest with Mitch, I think she might have made him happy. Tennessee Williams wrote a complex play about people's strengths and weaknesses and desires crashing together and causing irreparable damage; Mann's production presents every complexity.

On perusing the reviews, most of them based on performances a week or so earlier than the one I saw, I found myself wondering if perhaps this production took a few extra days to hit its stride. With the exception of comments on Rubin-Vega, who unfortunately remains weak, the other criticisms seemed to be of a different play than I saw. There's no way to ever know, of course. Not only is each performance of a play different and unique--the true glory of theatre--but the performance we each see is also colored by our different seats and beliefs, personalities, and lives.

All I know for sure is that the Streetcar I saw was the real thing.

(third row on the aisle; press ticket)

Lonely, I'm Not

Lonely, I'm Not; bored, I am. Paul Weitz's new play at Second Stage isn't awful, it's just awfully empty in its exclamatory presentation of Porter (Topher Grace), a once-vicious, work-obsessed man who has spent the last four years recovering from a nervous breakdown, failed marriage, and current depression. Trip Cullman, rarely the most subtle of directors, only adds fuel to this fire by blaring the titles of each abbreviated scene in neon signage that is both behind and a part of Mark Wendland's set. The final product ends up feeling more like the cover of a magazine, flashy and colorfully designed so as to lure the reader in, than it does like a substantive address on the human condition.

Nice Work If You Can Get It

From the sound of it, Nice Work If You Can Get It is setting itself up from failure: classic Gershwin songs harshly bolted onto a Prohibition-era farce that's adapted by Joe DiPietro from work by Guy Bolton and P. G. Wodehouse. Confidence is inspired by director/choreographer Kathleen Marshall, fresh off of Anything Goes, and her leading lady, the do-anything Kelli O'Hara, but there's still that disclaimer-like "if" haunting the title. Rest assured, however, that the result of this "new" musical is nice work -- actually, pretty damn wonderful work. DiPietro has as firm yet playful hand here as he did with Memphis, the songs are more than merely soldered on -- they're actually often comically playing against the original context -- and David Chase's arrangements are terrific (see the dueling "By Strauss" and "Sweet and Lowdown"), and Marshall's direction is quick, lively, and above all, fun, with lots of storytelling stuffed into the extended dance sequences.

The single rough patch rests in this entire affair rests on Matthew Broderick's weary shoulders: he looks bored to be playing yet another variation on Leo Bloom -- he's now a rich simpleton -- and his arms are so stiff that it appears he's trying to bring planking to Broadway, particularly in comparison to full-bodied performers like Michael McGrath, Jennifer Laura Thompson, Robyn Hurder, Chris Sullivan, and Judy Kaye.... I don't ordinarily fall head-over-heels for such airy entertainment -- especially not two-and-half-hours worth -- but Nice Work If You Can Get It has me humming away on cloud nine. Perhaps it's hard to get work these days; at least this musical's making it easy to play.

(Press ticket; N105)