A Streetcar Named Desire

Photo: Ken Howard

It's the strength of Tennessee Williams's A Streetcar Named Desire that is reflected in the relative success of this all-black revival, not Emily Mann's directorial decisions. Well, and perhaps a little of Eugene Lee's taut set design, which brings an oubliette-like feel to the home of Stanley (Blair Underwood) and Stella (Daphne Rubin-Vega) that fits the melodrama of Blanche (Nicole Ari Parker), who announces that "Only Mr. Edgar Allen Poe could do it justice." Despite issues having to do with the miscast Rubin-Vega and Mann's interstitial atmosphere-draining vignettes and music, A Streetcar Named Desire still sweats a rawness that's undeniably powerful, tinged as it is by sorrow, delusion, and naked needs. And when two powerful actors collide -- as with Wood Harris's reversal-filled Mitch and Parker's ailing and flailing Blanche -- the audience is liable to break out in sweats, too.

[Read full review here]

(Press ticket; K2)

4000 Miles

Photo: Erin Baiano

There is a great distance between any two people, not just across generations -- Leo (Gabriel Ebert) shows up at his grandmother Vera's (Mary Louise Wilson's) door after going AWOL on a bike trip across America -- but across a gamut of emotional feelings, refracted through Leo's slightly unnatural feelings for his unseen adopted sister (voiced, I believe, by Greta Lee, who appears in the play as an immature, art-freak of a one-night-stand) and his almost unbearable love for his girlfriend Bec (Zoe Winters). Unlike Amy Herzog's previous work, After the Revolution, 4000 Miles doesn't appear to be interested in bridging that distance, so much as in quietly acknowledging it, a task that director Daniel Aukin (This) is well-suited for.

However, for all the naturalistic charm, tenderness, and sweetness of 4000 Miles, the concluding thought is that Herzog appears to have traveled largely on a treadmill. That moment of insight, of connection? It never comes, and with both Bec and Leo running away (to one degree or another) at the end of the play and with the spectre of a life-well-lived-but-also-almost-over hanging over Vera, it feels as if a second act is missing (and this in a play that's already a bit long at a hundred intermissionless minutes). The final monologue -- a sort of eulogy -- suggests that we're not meant to know everything; the catch-22 of Herzog's talented writing is that we want to.

[Read full review here]

($40.00 ticket; H109)

The Runner Stumbles

In northern Michigan in 1911, a nun was found murdered. In the early 1970s, playwright Milan Stitt wrote a murder mystery/courtroom drama based on this story and used it to examine love, religion, and god. And in 2012, Retro Productions and The Bleecker Company moved their solidly entertaining Off-Off-Broadway production of Stitt's play, The Runner Stumbles, to the Off-Broadway Arclight Theatre for an open run.

Casandera M.J. Lollar,
Christopher Patrick Mullen
Photo: Kristen Vaughan

The story is told in flashbacks as Father Rivard (the amazing Christopher Patrick Mullen) stands trial for the murder of Sister Rita (the terrific Casandera M.J. Lollar). We see Father Rivard and Sister Rita  thrown together when two other nuns come down with consumption, and Sister Rita has to move into the rectory to avoid contagion. We are witnesses as the two start butting heads. Rivard sees the church and god as strict and punishing; Rita sees them as loving and humane. Rivard believes in rules; Rita believes in emotions. Their disagreements spill over into other people's lives, as when they compete to console a woman whose mother is about to die; the differences in their approaches are enough to make the poor woman's head spin.

Rivard is an amazing creation. While Sister Rita is a fascinating study of someone coming to believe that maybe there is a place for her in a difficult world, Rivard is anger and fear and love and myth and flesh and blood. The writing is so good, and Mullen is so present and real, so mercurial yet subtle, that even Rivard's worst behavior is comprehensible. And while Rivard's trial examines whether he is guilty of murder, the play examines whether he is guilty of hypocrisy, rigidity, and an inability to love.

The show and this production have their flaws. The first act doesn't quite gel, and some of the characters are thinly drawn. Director Peter Zinn does a good job overall, but the show's pacing needs tightening, particularly in the transitions between scenes. The fights are awkwardly staged. The show gets a bit melodramatic here and there. But the cast is strong (standouts include Heather E. Cunningham as Rivard's housekeeper, Ric Sechrest as the lawyer who defends Rivard, and Alisha Spielmann as the woman whose mother is dying), the story is compelling, and the show is well worth seeing.

(press ticket; second row on the aisle)

An Early History of Fire

While watching the not-particularly-enthralling New Group production of David Rabe's new play, An Early History of Fire, I had to wonder if we really need yet another coming-of-age story in which a son breaks away from his domineering dad and outgrows his childhood friends, with everyone drinking amounts of alcohol that would leave them unconscious in real life. Well, if we do need another one, this isn't it.

Theo Stockman, Claire van der Boom
Photo: Monique Carboni

Although An Early History of Fire is full of incident--fights, fires, an extended case of not-quite-coitis interruptus--it is flat, with two-dimensional characters and little intensity (a surprising criticism for a Rabe play!). The heightened language rings false--not everyone of earth speaks in metaphors, and while lyrical dialogue can add much to a play, it feels forced here. Similarly, the period references that set the play in the early 1960s come across as too-knowing and even a little precious.

The set, direction, acting, etc, are all good, but ultimately, An Early History of Fire fails to ignite.

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.