The Jacksonian

After Beth Henley's interminable and unpleasant new play, The Jacksonian, finally ended, an audience member turned to me and said, "What was that?"

Excellent question.

The story of a divorcing couple, a neglected child, a lonely waitress, and a bartender with a past brushing up against one another at the titular rundown motel, The Jacksonian fails to evoke sympathy, laughs, or interest. Robert Falls' direction doesn't help; he has led his superb cast (Ed Harris! Amy Madigan! Bill Pullman! Glenne Headly!) to puzzling, unconvincing, awkward performances. The supposedly humorous parts are embarrassing; the supposedly poignant parts are embarrassing; the whole thing is embarrassing.

Ben Brantley gave the show a good review, which baffles me. I was far from alone in disliking the show the night I saw it. The applause was perfunctory, and the after-show mood was glum. Perhaps Brantley saw a much better performance? It's hard to imagine.

(aisle, fifth row, press ticket)

Frances Tannehill, 90, Broadway Actress

Frances Tannehill, actress and lifelong Manhattan resident, died after a brief illness in Upper Manhattan on August 5th.

Known for her stunning looks in addition to her talents as a dramatic and comedic actress, Ms. Tannehill started her Broadway career at the age of eight in the play “Purity,” produced by Lee Shubert and starring Florence Reed. She attended Professional Children’s School in Manhattan, which enabled her to keep up with her studies as she worked on Broadway and toured nationally.

In 1938, Ms. Tannehill was cast in Cole Porter’s musical “Leave it to Me”, starring Mary Martin, Sophie Tucker and Gene Kelly in his first Broadway show. In 1940, she appeared on Broadway in “Keep off the Grass.” Although short-lived, the musical was choreographed by George Balanchine and starred Jimmy Durante, Ray Bolger, Jane Froman and Jackie Gleason. Jerome Robbins and José Limon were featured dancers. Ms. Tannehill joined the Broadway cast of “Othello” starring Paul Robeson, Uta Hagen and José Ferrer, in 1943 for the last six months of the run.

At the age of 19, appearing in a Broadway revival of “Counsellor-at-Law “starring Paul Muni, Ms. Tannehill met her future husband, actor Alexander Clark. They were married in 1945 and spenttheir honeymoon in France and Germany on a six-month tour with the USO. The play was “The Night of January 16th” by Ayn Rand; it was a courtroom drama that used the GIs as jurors.  The company was the first to play for the U.S. troops in Berlin after VE Day. The couple remained married for fifty years until Alec Clark’s death in 1995.

  In the early 1950’s, Alexander Clark and Frances Tannehill went on a year-long national tour of “Call Me Madam” starring Elaine Stritch. On a tour stop in Washington, D.C., Ms. Tannehill, as Frances Clark, testified in Congress with Oscar Hammerstein II and Howard Lindsay to help pass a bill making it legal for child actors under the age of 14, but not below age 7,  to perform in Washington as they did elsewhere in the nation. The bill was signed by President Truman in 1952.  

Other national tours included “Ladies in Retirement” with Dame Flora Robson, and “The Philadelphia Story” with Sarah Churchill. Ms. Tannehill also performed featured and supporting roles with Helen Hayes, Dorothy Loudon, Jessica Tandy, Cyril Ritchard, Lillian Gish and Michael Redgrave. Television and radio performances included episodes on The Alcoa Hour, Philco Goodyear Television Playhouse, Kraft Theatre and Theatre Guild on the Air.
 

Ms. Tannehill was the third generation performer from an American theatrical family dating back to the 1850’s. Her father, Frank Tannehill Jr. was an actor, playwright and lyricist. Her grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Tannehill, worked in theatres throughout the U.S. in plays ranging from drama to farce.  In 1857, they were part of the ensemble company at the Arch Street Theatre in Philadelphia. John Wilkes Booth, using the pseudonym J.B. Wilkes, joined the company that year.

Nicole Clark, Helen Hayes,
Frances Tannehill

Ms. Tannehill created and performed one-woman shows for the past 20 years recounting her own theatrical experiences and those of other notable people in the arts. From 1995 until her death, she was President of Twelfth Night Club, Inc. which is the oldest extant club for women of the theatre in the U.S.

She will be remembered with love and admiration for her bright mind, her vibrant charm, her beautiful voice, and her wonderful recollections about the theatre that shaped her life.

Frances Tannehill is survived by her daughter Nicole Clark, of Manhattan.

Memorial contributions may be made to The Actor’s Fund.

Disaster!

Bottom line: If you love to laugh and have silly fun; if you enjoy being entertained by top-notch performers with excellent timing and beautiful voices; if you've even heard of such movies as The Poseidon Adventure and such songs as "Alone Again, Naturally," you have to go see Seth Rudetsky and Jack Plotnick's Disaster!

Jennifer Simard, Mary Testa
Photo: Jeremy Daniel

In my review of an earlier incarnation of Disaster! I wrote,

The premise is simple: Disaster! is a musical spoof of disaster films, using songs from the 1970s. It features a lot of the jokes you might predict, but with twists that make them funnier, plus jokes and situations and visuals that are surprising and wonderful. Under Denis Jones's insanely creative direction, the small space bursts with action and fun and inspired silliness. And the helicopter rescue is a delight.

Impressively, the songs aren't shoehorned in. As a matter of fact, one or two are weaved in so well that they seem written for the show. As just one example, Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff" becomes an effective opening number with a surprising range of interpretations.

Some things have changed in this new production. The director is now Plotnick (though the choreography is still by Denis Jones), and Rudetsky is the only performer remaining from the earlier cast. But more important is what stayed the same: Disaster! is still surprising and wonderful; it's still insanely creative; it still has an amazingly talented, energetic, somewhat insane cast, including Mary Testa, Matt Farcher, Haven Burton, and Jennifer Simard.

Seeing Disaster! a second time allowed me to examine the structure and writing more closely. This is a smart piece of silliness. Rudetsky and Plotnick set up the plot and characters with great economy, use the songs brilliantly, gracefully combine complete silliness with higher-level silliness, and, perhaps most importantly, know when to pull back. Every time it feels like the show is losing steam or going on too long, Rudetsky and Plotnick throw in a surprise or go in a different direction or come up with just the right mash-up of song, satire, and panache. And even when the show seems to be reaching too low, it isn't. (I wish I could give examples, but you really don't want me to spoil anything.)

It takes a certain meticulousness to make a show seem this crazed, this spontaneous, this gorgeously giddy. I tip my hat to everyone who worked on Disaster! and I urge you to go see it.

(row G, press ticket)

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Julie Taymor's new production of A Midsummer Night's Dream is full of wonders, yet it is not quite wonderful. Actually, there are two shows here. The first, the one by Taymor and her creative colleagues, is a glorious pageant, full of color and light, undulating shapes, magical appearances (and disappearances), fascinating costumes, and kaleidoscopic orgasms. This show offers a candy store's worth of eye candy, and proves once again--not that it needs proving--that Taymor has one of the most fecund imaginations around today, or possibly ever. This show is a thrilling treat. (The scenic designer is Es Devlin; the costume designer is Constance Hoffman; the lighting designer is Donald Holder; the sound designer is Matt Tierney; the projection designer is Sven Ortel; the choreographer is Brian Brooks. All contribute brilliantly.)

Tina Benko, David Harewood
Photo: Es Devlin

And then there's that other show, the one that Shakespeare wrote, the one that Taymor treats as an afterthought. It's the least interesting Midsummer I've ever seen. The cast is uneven and the book scenes are directed haphazardly. Of the four young lovers, only Mandi Masden as Helena provides a full performance with real emotion. It's easy to see why Taymor cast the others, since they are beautiful and look good in their underwear, but their performances lack dimension and emotion. In this show, it rarely feels like anything matters.

And sometimes the design elements get in the way. For example, when the Rude Mechanicals perform Pyramus and Thisbe, the excellent Max Casella is overwhelmed by his wig, makeup, and costume. It doesn't make sense that he seems more real as an ass than as a human. (I also wish that Taymor had used her prodigious imagination to come up with something better--and less annoying--than the gay and fat stereotypes among the Rude Mechanicals.)

Fun Home

Based on Alison Bechdel's brilliant graphic memoir, the equally brilliant musical Fun Home tells the story of Alison (depicted at three ages by three different performers); her father, a not-quite-closeted closet case; and her mother, a talented woman trying to make the best of a disappointing life.

Roberta Colindre, Alexandra Socha
Photo: Joan Marcus

The show is structured loosely around the memories of the adult Alison (Beth Malone), who is trying to comprehend her past and, in particular, her complicated father, with his charm, fits of anger, manic redecorating schemes, and frightening coldness. How is she supposed to process the fact that this cultured sensitive man, whom she loved deeply, seduced young--sometimes very young--males? On this level, the show is heartbreaking.

Fun Home is also the story of the writer as a young dyke, tracing Alison's coming of age, from her first butch stirrings to her first girlfriend. On this level, the show is sweet and funny.

Jeanine Tesori's music is as wonderful as Tesori's music always is: melodic, touching, beautiful, funny, revealing, and true to character. Lisa Kron's book and lyrics are excellent; she is equally comfortable with the vicissitudes of Alison's childhood and the clumsy joys of coming out. I would love to quote some of her lyrics here, but they would be spoiler-ish, and I don't want to hurt a second of this amazing show. The direction by Sam Gold is sensitive and smart. David Zinn's scenic and costume design are both apt and attractive.

The cast is nothing short of amazing, in particular Small Alison (the astounding Sydney Lucas) and Medium Alison (the staggeringly talented Alexandra Socha). Judy Kuhn invests the role of Alison's mother with quiet dignity and pain, and when she finally reveals herself through song, it's beautifully devastating. Michael Cerveris is hampered by a wig, glasses, and clothing that practically yell "child molester," and I think he is miscast in general. (In the workshop, Martin Moran brought so much more to the part in many ways, not least by being right for it.) Roberta Colindrez as Joan, Alison's first love, is exactly who she should be.

If you had told my 20-something self that in 2013 there would be a superb musical that included authentic lesbian characters having full, not-just-lesbian lives, I would have said, "I have to wait until 2013? Are you fucking kidding me?" But better late than never, and Fun Home would be a gift in any decade, in any century.

The whole idea of seeing yourself on stage is an interesting one. I have spent my life identifying with people of different sexes, races, ages, nationalities, and centuries. But to see people on stage who are genuinely like me is a rare thrill. And to see them in the best musical in years, a show that successfully mixes love and fear and disappointment and creepiness and reality, a show with a gorgeous score and excellent book and lyrics is well . . .  wow. Simply that: wow.

(first row; friend-of-a-member discounted ticket.)

Marie Antoinette

David Adjmi’s Marie Antoinette, directed by Rebecca Taichman, finds itself hip, snarky, insightful, and significant, but it's merely an olio of unoriginal ideas tossed together with a dash of attitude, a talking sheep, and cartoon characters. The main weakness of the play is Marie herself, who is presented variously as a victim but powerful, stupid but smart, and unloving yet loving--and whose evolution from two-dimensional mean girl to tragic figure is wholly unconvincing.  

Marin Ireland
Photo: Pavel Antonov

Just as Marie doesn't quite gel, neither does the play itself. There are some genuinely moving moments and some funny ones, but they don't add up. The play is by turns fey, overly dramatic, cutesy, and serious. When it tries at the end to elicit our sympathy, neither the play nor Marie has earned it.  

Perhaps Marie Antoinette is better understood as a riff than a play: "Here is what David Adjmi thinks about Marie Antoinette," it seems to say, "plus a few cheap jokes." (E.g., when someone tells Marie that she doesn't feed her children sweets, Marie answers, "O let them eat cake.")

Marin Ireland's fascinating portrayal of Marie does much to cover the play's weaknesses and maintain audience interest. She has a contemporary edge that makes her a seemingly odd choice for the role, but her determination, humor, and intelligence give life and occasional depth to each of the versions of Marie on display.

The stage at the Soho Rep is backed by a long white wall with the words Marie Antoinette, also in white, running its length. Perhaps this tabula rasa is an invitation to the audience to write its own version of Marie, which is ultimately all any of us can do.

(first row center; press ticket)