William Finn: Broadway Close Up

William Finn, lyricist-composer of Falsettos, Elegies, and Little Miss Sunshine, writes at the corner of idiosyncratic and heartfelt. His topics range far and wide: e.g., a baseball game, trying to recover from a stroke, and having sex with a Republican. And, yes, he also tackles the biggies, like family and romantic love. Sometimes Finn's music is cozily melodic; other times, not so much. Sometimes his lyrics are tight and perfect; other times, they feel jammed together with almost random rhymes that somehow work. His songs dazzle, entertain, reveal people's secrets, make you laugh, and break your heart.

William Finn

As seen in the Broadway Close Up evening of his songs, Finn is also a fabulous interviewee, gravel-voiced, dry, funny, and deeply grateful for what life has given him. (He can also truly sell a song, as when he did "Stupid Things," from The Royal Family of Broadway, somewhat in the style of Elaine Stritch, who originated the number.)

Finn clearly had a great time all evening, as did the audience. The highlights for me included Sally Wilfert's three numbers: "Anytime," from Elegies; "Something Better Better Happen," from Little Miss Sunshine; and "Raise Up Big Please This Umbrella," from What You Think When You Can't Sleep (music by Deborah Abramson). The songs required three distinct moods and styles, and she did each with subtlety and verve.

Betty Buckley was lovely on "Only One" and "14 Dwight Avenue, Natick, Massachusetts" (ably assisted by Finn's student Matthew Krob).

Big Apple Circus: The Grand Tour

For its 38th season, the Big Apple Circus presents an frequently charming, often thrilling new show called The Grand Tour. Using large travel posters and appropriate scenery and costumes, the Big Apple's clowns, Joel Jeske and Brent McBeth, take us around the world on various modes of transport, including the Orient Express and a (fake) camel. (I'm not a big fan of clowns, but Jeske and McBeth had me laughing out loud on more than one occasion.)

The Dominguez Brothers 

on the Wheel of Wonder

Photo © maike schulz: Big Apple Circus

Along the way, we are treated to truly amazing wonders of the world:

• Chiara Anastasini, a 9th-generation circus performer, is, I would imagine, the world's foremost hula hoop artiste. Her act is both kinda silly and completely impressive. 
• Alexander Koblikov juggles with more balls than I could even count, but for me the highlight of his act was when he balanced one ball across his arms and shoulders with preternatural grace. 
• Want to see beautiful, lithe men with zero body fat do acts requiring 1,000% strength and agility? The Chinese hand balancers, The Energy Trio, are for you.
• One of my favorite acts of the show, the Dominguez Brothers, are both thrilling and terrifying on the Wheel of Wonder. They are talented, dexterous, athletic, and seriously brave.
• The African acrobatic troupe Zuma Zuma provide a jolt of beauty and energy and fun.
• And my other favorite act of the show, the Dosov Troupe, soars off the teeterboard, landing on each other's shoulders and on extremely high chairs. Their finale is one of the coolest things I have ever seen at a circus.

And at the Big Apple Circus, you get to see all of these wonderful acts up front and personal. As advertised, no seat is further than 50 feet from the stage, and that level of intimacy ups the oohs and aahs.

My one complaint is that the Big Apple Circus still has animal acts. Those dogs and horses just don't look happy, with the smaller dogs quivering and one horse clearly not wanting to do as told. I think the day of the animal act has passed...

On a whole, however, the Big Apple Circus is both a great deal of fun and a testament to how wonderful human beings can be. Listening to the news, I sometimes forget the human race's good points, but the Big Apple Circus is a marvelous reminder.

(around 6th row, press ticket)

The Humans

In The Humans, Stephen Karam's funny, sad, squirmily accurate play about family dynamics in troubling times, the supernatural is repeatedly implied. The newly rented, ground-floor New York apartment the play is set in--creepy enough as it is in its whitewashed, prewar emptiness--makes all kinds of strange creaks and groans, is subject to frequent and random power outages, and is regularly stomped upon by a never-seen upstairs neighbor who is, even by New York standards, excessively noisy. Family members talk over dinner about the unknown: scary comic book creatures, brushes with death, strange and unsettling dreams. And while the ending of The Humans builds toward a climax befitting the kind of terrifying surprise one expects of a horror flick, the eerie vibe infusing this smart, affecting play ultimately has little, if anything, to do with the otherworldly. People, it turns out--especially the ones you love and trust the most--can burrow into and fuck with your head way better than any ghost can. Especially when they, like you, are preoccupied with the most terrifying of human anxieties: rejection, poverty, sickness, age, death.

Joan Marcus

Barbecue

Photo: Joan Marcus

My colleagues Wendy and Liz generally offered praise for Robert O'Hara's Barbecue, which runs through next Sunday at The Public's Newman Theater (read their thoughts here and here). In keeping with their earlier reviews, mine will be somewhat cagey, as I agree that knowing too much about this play before going in may spoil the experience. However, unlike my co-writers, I am not going to enthusiastically recommend this play, which too often feels like a Tyler Perry movie without the Christian subtext. O'Hara may have set out to skewer the ways in which Hollywood/Broadway/the memoir industry prey on the sad, drug-addled lives of the downtrodden, but the finished product is neither profound nor particularly interesting. The large cast work their butts off but can't overcome the fact that the play isn't as funny the author thinks -- and I had a hard time believing that many of the actors, playing siblings, were family. (Most of them seemed like they'd just met moments before taking the stage.) Kent Gash's production is, oddly, too slow and too short. I wanted to like Barbecue, but like a burger that stays on the grill a few minutes too long, it left an odd and unsatisfying taste in my mouth. -- by Cameron Kelsall

[Member tickets, mid-orchestra]

Rothschild & Sons

Have you noticed that whenever someone announces a "re-imagining" of a musical, the show gets smaller? Why does no show ever get bigger? Why does no one add more instruments? Why doesn't Dames at Sea have a chorus on Broadway?

Jamie LaVerdiere, Nicholas Mongiardo-Cooper,
David Bryant Johnson, Robert Cuccioli,
Curtis Wiley, Christopher M. Williams
Photo: Carol Rosegg

Of course, I'm being disingenuous here. We all know the answer: money. Shows with smaller casts and orchestras--i.e., less expensive shows--have a better chance of being produced in New York and elsewhere.

Honeycomb Trilogy: Advance Man, Blast Radius, Sovereign

On one hand, Mac Rogers' Honeycomb Trilogy is a highly entertaining sci-fi epic, covering over 20 years and an extraterrestrial invasion or two. It has everything you could ask for: a fascinating alien race, a believable version of earth, characters with strong desires and stronger personalities, danger, and suspense. It's also funnier than many comedies I've seen. On the other hand, Honeycomb Trilogy is a smart and thoughtful examination of family, free will, the power and powerlessness of love, the arrogance of people who decide to change the world, the importance of that arrogance, and many other important and thought-provoking topics. In its own way, it's a masterpiece. What Mac Rogers has done is extraordinary: he has nested philosophy in frivolity and the result kicks ass.

Advance Man 
Sean Williams, Kristen Vaughan
Photo: Deborah Alexander

The current Gideon production at the Gym at Judson Church is splendid. Jordana Williams directs masterfully, succeeding on the macro and micro levels and everything in between. Her attention to detail is lovely, and her ability to keep the machinery of the trilogy (6 acts; 29 performers; 3 sets) moving is impressive. Kudos as well to her assistant directors (Audrey Marshall, Mikell Kober, Sara Thigpen) and stage managers (Victoria Barclay, Nikki Castle, Devan Hibbard). If "it takes a village" for most shows, this one took a small city, I'm sure.

And, oh, that cast. Brilliant performance after brilliant performance after brilliant performance. Each actor inhabits his or her role fully; even the smallest role becomes a rich presence, a person you know incredibly well. A lot of this is in Rogers' writing, of course, but the actors, guided by Williams, bring his world vividly alive. Becky Byers and Hanna Cheek play Ronnie at different times of her life; both are fierce, funny, and frightening as a small and difficult woman who becomes a great leader by sheer personality and conviction. David Rosenblatt and Stephen Heskett play Abbie at different times of his life; together they skillfully show us how a shy and sweet boy can turn into a dangerous man. Kristen Vaughan plays Amelia, Ronnie and Abbie's mother, who is (to say the least) pushed out of her comfort zone as the rules of society change or disappear; Vaughan is superb, as always. Sean Williams gives a wily performance as Ronnie and Abbie's father, an astronaut and maybe a hero, who may or may not ever be completely sincere. Jason Howard is extraordinary, as always, as the astronaut who returns from space drastically changed. Brian Silliman oozes cheerful sleaze as a venture capitalist thrilled to be in the presence of people who have actually been to Mars. The rest of the amazing cast comprises Rebecca Comtois, Neimah Djourabchi, Shaun Bennet Fauntleroy, Matt Golden, Felicia J. Hudson, Erin Jerozal, Ana Maria Jomolca, Yeauxlanda Kay, Daryl Lathon, Carlos Martin, Joe Mathers, Lori E. Parquet, Amy Lee Pearsall,  Seth Shelden,  Nancy Sirianni, Alisha Spielmann, Adam Swiderski, C.L.Weatherstone, and Cotton Wright. Each contributes significantly.