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Rounding Third
by Shera Cohen Take a ride around the rotary to the Majestic to see “Rounding Third.” It’s “way cooler” than seeing a real ballgame, and it’s air conditioned.
Metro Stage Company’s
Ruthless a Riot by Robin Chamberlain
Ancients Songs of South Africa
by Steve Capra
The singing was extraordinary,
wonderful - euphoric and soothing. Even the ballads sounded like
hypnotic chants. We learned that a chorus is greater than the sum of its
voices – it has a collective life of its own. Sometimes the voices began
timidly and intensified. Sometimes they faded out at the end of a song,
and sometimes they just stop, but they never punctuated the ending like
most European music.
Happy Days - A New Musical
by Shera Cohen The
Pirates of Penzance by John Small
Pure Joy of Movement
by Beverly Creasey (5/4/08)
The Full Monty by
Shera Cohen (4/24/08)
The Smothers Brothers & Springfield
Symphony Orchestra by
Shera Cohen (4/14/08)
The Ten Tenors
by Shera Cohen (3/15/08)
Buddha: In His Own Words - The Life of the Buddha
assembled from the original texts Siddartha Gautama, a prince of the warrior class, now
known as The Buddha, lived 2500 years ago. His writings have been
preserved in fifty volumes. Evan Brenner (a Buddhist priest) has
selected the material about the Buddha’s own life and distilled it into
a ninety-minute monologue: Buddha:
In His Own Words. There are some other characters - Ananda the
servant, the charioteer, the devil himself – but for the overwhelmig
bulk of the piece, it’s the Buddha himself who’s speaking. The text is carefully structured.
The familiar story of the Prince abandoning the life of pleasure
forms the first act, and the climax is, of course, the great
Enlightenment under the Bodhi tree. The second act is often weak in this
sort of script, but here it’s strong, well conceived, focusing on the
Buddha’s ministry. In fact, the story is at its best here, thrust by the
drive of the spread of the teaching and the joy of new converts: “And
then there were six… And then there were sixty-one… And then there were
thousands…” Its fantastic closing passage concerns the revenge of the
Slave Prince, a story that will probably be new to many. What’s more, the writing is elegant. It uses poetic
repitition. We hear phrases repeated like “the four great continents
with their surrounding islands numbering two thousand”. We hear
sentences like “Wide open were the doors to Nirvana” and “There is this
teaching discovered by me.” Brenner’s imbedded the rhetorical devices in
the script so that they’re not intrusive. Like any miracle play, this script’s purpose is to
teach, and we indeed hear the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism are repeated
a few times. Brenner’s expression of them is particularly accessible, as
we’re reminded to “let go of the origin of suffering, which is selfish
craving.” Brenner has commanding speech and has a refined sense
of gesture. He could be a first-rate storyteller. But this is a
monologue in the first person, and it cries for an actor’s technique,
which Brenner lacks. There’s no evidence of the choices actors make. To
whom is the Buddha speaking? His best pupil? His slowest pupil? When
Brenner says “I fight on”, he shakes his fist, and the line cries for
subtext. Indeed, the production apparently has no director.
The concept is right: Brenner stands barefoot in colorless clothes, with
no set but a chair. But for some reason, he never takes the lotus
position, only a sort of half-lotus. There are self-contained stories in
the script, but they’re not defined in the staging. Worst, his trim,
nice-boy haircut is a glaring anomaly on the stage. But be that as it may. Buddha: In His Own Words is a religious and stage event, and we’re happy to have it. I saw it in previews. It “opens” on an unspecified date “a few months away”, on West 25th Street in New York. See www.thebuddhaplay.com. It was born in Cambridge about 18 months ago. Enchanted April by Shera Cohen (3/2/08)www.inthespotlightinc.org It’s March 2nd, dirty snow aligns the streets and sidewalks of downtown West Springfield. Yet inside the Majestic, it’s a warm spring full of flowers that could have been painted by the best Impressionists, setting the stage for rebirth and renewal. The current production at the Majestic is “Enchanted April,” running thru April 6, which accomplishes all of the above and more. It’s 1922 England at the play’s start. Two strangers, both dressed in black on a bleak stage with next to no furnishings, are the catalysts that change this setting, and indeed themselves and others, into bright and shining individuals. Act I creates a motley quartet of women, each leaning close to caricatures. As the story evolves, however, these stereotypes truly become characters with personalities, people to take seriously, laugh with, sympathize for, and perhaps emulate. Lisa Rowe-Beddoe and Cate Damon lead the cast. Both are housewives in their own uneventful worlds. On first look, they portray the antithesis of each other, but beneath the exterior each needs to fill her own hole of things lost in life. The women play off of each other well, with the former acting crass and in-your-face, and the latter demure and saintly. Joining them on their journey toward hope are Margery Shaw (dowager) and Sandra Blaney (socialite). As their characters require the four actresses to become more and more real, the audience appreciates each as somewhat injured yet with purpose to go on. Blaney, who was so wonderful in this season’s “Trying,” is an especially welcome addition to this cast. Yes, there are some male actors, who get more onstage time in Act II. Keith Langsdale (uppity lawyer/husband) makes the most of his role, particularly as he receives the longest laughs in this serio-comedy. Actually, every actor was well-chosen for his/her skill, not to mention keeping English accents going throughout the play. Special kudos to the stage hands, which swiftly created each of the many scenes. The artistic crew – Bev Browne, Gary Miller, and Danny Eaton – made seeing believing, and believing is the core of this enchanted play. The Drowsy Chaperone by Shera Cohen (2/20/08) This is an easy review to write. The hard ones are dramas and musical dramas, one-person plays and those with casts of thousands, avante garde and Shakespeare. “The Drowsy Chaperone” has none of the angst, tour-de-force performances, or difficult language found in any or all of the above categories. The Bushnell has brought in a wonderfully energetic, humorous, oftentimes just plain stupid play with catchy tunes, tap and Charleston dance numbers, and one of the worst titles ever given a musical. It could have been titled “Aldolpho the Lothario” or “Man in Chair” for all it matters. The chaperone is simply the name of one of the roles in this ensemble production. “DC” is a combination of Busby Burklee and Damon Runyon locked in the 21st century, but only sometimes when the record skips. Hmmm, that makes little sense. That’s exactly what “DC” is – a musical within a comedy (that phrase is taken from the playbill) abounding with froth, shtick, clichés, and nonsense. What makes this musical unique from “Me and My Gal,” “The Boy Friend,” et al is its concept and format. Yes, readers of this review can google and discover the hidden gem that makes “DC” different and funnier than the norm, but our policy is not to “give it away.” It’s better for audience members to walk in unfamiliar with the book and the songs, and simply enjoy everything that happens for the next 90 or so uninterrupted minutes. Everything is right about this musical – the cast of talented singers/comedians, small band that sounds like an orchestra, and strange sets that seem to come out of nowhere. Who would expect a dozen actors in 1920s costumes to walk out of the refrigerator? Expect for the narrator, the play is populated with caricatures, all played over-the-top, with not a bit of scenery left unchewed. The lyrics are distinct and oftentimes ridiculous (a love song about a monkey), there’s a tap dance on roller skates, cheesy costumes, lampooning of musical theatre, four weddings (no funeral), and Georgia Engel. “The Drowsy Chaperone” is a delight. Expect no more. Love Letters by Robin Chamberlain (2/19/08) A show about 2 people sitting around reading their letters to each other? You say to yourself “that sounds boring”…. it’s not. Love Letters is playwright A.R. Gurney’s clever work during which- surprise - 2 people sit around and read their letters to each other. And newcomer to the theatre scene Princebury Productions of Wellesley provided us with a production that is anything but boring. Presented (appropriately) over Valentine’s weekend, this was Princebury Productions’ first “go” at live theater, having previously focused on movie and television production. Love Letters spans the lives of childhood friends through adulthood – summer camp, boarding school, college, marriage, divorce, careers, and life’s highs and lows in what become two very disparate lives. Andrew and Melissa are sometimes romantically involved, sometimes just friends, you start to feel for the characters and are voyeuristically drawn in so that you really want to know what the next letter will bring. Telling their stories through letters is a wonderful way to show these characters in both their public and private selves – as one character states “letters are a way of presenting yourself in the best light possible”. A simple set – 2 chairs, 2 desks and basic lighting caused one to focus solely on the actors, watching their every facial expression, nuance and gesture as they simply sat and read their letters. You need accomplished actors in order to hold the audience’s attention for 90 minutes. Chad Stewart (who is also the President of the organization) and Carolyn Paine fit the bill. Chad in particular seems to use his personal experience as a writer to deliver that sensibility to the role. Joshua Lee Ramos’ well-paced direction keeps the show moving and I found myself watching as though at a tennis match. Let’s hope Princebury continues its journey into the live theatre realm. Info: Princebury Productions’ Love Letters ran February 15-16, 2008 at MassBay Community College, Wellesley. For information regarding Princebury Productions, visit their website at www.princeburyproductions.com. All My Sons by Donna Bailey-Thompson (2/19/08) Submitted by: www.inthespotlightinc.org This play is worth seeing at Exit 7 Players of Ludlow (MA). At the end of the first act, there was silence. No applause. No one moved. For two reasons: the audience had become riveted by a masterfully-written story performed by a fine cast and the house lights had not brightened enough to signal that intermission had arrived. Exit 7 Players have bestowed upon Arthur Miller’s emotionally-stirring, "All My Sons" the highest honor: respect for the material and for the craft itself. Noted for their upbeat productions of such musicals as "Gypsy," "Sweet Charity" and "Cabaret," presenting this particular drama now is as timely as it was when it opened on Broadway in 1947. There’s not an old bone in its body because "All My Sons" is about timeless concerns – family and business, love and ethics, courage and cowardice – huge subjects that beset ordinary people. Director Jennifer Curran has stated, "This is the story I needed to tell. What we can choose to ignore, what we can and cannot live with and what we cannot forgive." Her emotional connection with the script is reflected in the performances, especially those of Kate Keller (Jennifer Bauduccio), Joe Keller (Fred Piel), Chris Keller (Charles Holt) and George Deever (Dan Derby). The conflicted Kellers and the accusatory Deever are superb. Special kudos go to Bauduccio who stepped into a demanding role less than two weeks before the opening. As Anne Deever, Lea D. Oppedisano plays an establishment daughter, a far cry from her most recent Exit 7 Players role as Charity Hope Valentine in "Sweet Charity." Once again, Paul Hamel (Set Designer/Technical Director/Set Construction) has fashioned a set that complements the play’s theme, especially as represented by family and business: the Keller’s house dominates the stage but visible across the road is the factory. There are strong similarities between "All My Sons" and Miller’s play "A Death of a Salesman." But to paraphrase a line from "Salesman," more attention must be paid to "All My Sons" because, to paraphrase a cosmetic’s advertising pitch, it’s worth it. Don't Dress For Dinner by Donna Bailey-Thompson (2/17/08) Submitted by: www.inthespotlightinc.org Deliberate, fantastic lies that if recounted during a 55-minute hour would qualify as confabulations worthy of certification are the fluffy stuff of The Suffield Players’ contribution to breaking up any mid-winter blues. "Don’t Dress For Dinner" is a delectable French farce. Thanks to Director Rayah Martin’s sense of pace and an appreciation of the ridiculous, this silly play delivers its purpose: it entertains. Because the cast takes their characters seriously, the roles fall several giggles below (or above?) cartoon level. A preposterous plan is conjured up by an otherwise sophisticated Bernard (Robert Lunde) – to take advantage of his wife, Jacqueline’s (Gina Marie Paro) absence by inviting his mistress Suzanne (Meagan Kinney) to come spend the weekend. In the event Suzanne’s presence requires explanation, Bernard includes his best friend Robert (Christopher Berrien) as a houseguest who can pass, if needed, as Suzanne’s lover. What Bernard doesn’t know is that his wife and best friend are lovers. This recipe for failure has one more ingredient, a chef hired to come in and cook, Suzette (Amy Rucci, who cavorts with abandon). When Jacqueline announces she’s staying home, pandemonium breaks loose. Extemporaneous lies pile up leading to improbable entanglements, sight gags and double entendres, until the identities are qualified and re-qualified so many times that no one knows who’s who or what. Eventually the multi-dimensional puzzle is figured out by Suzette’s husband, George (Edwin R. Lewis, III): that rapid fire dialog is enough to make heads spin. Deft comedic timing is delivered by Lunde, Berrien and Rucci who feed the laugh meter with aplomb. In the brief mop-up role of George, Lewis injects gravitas into the whirling nonsense. "Don’t Dress For Dinner" is so light – how light is it? – too light to leave a carbon footprint. The 39 Steps by Brooke Pierce (2/5/08) A recent hit in London, The 39 Steps is being presented for a limited run by the Roundabout Theatre Company at the American Airlines Theatre. Using the Alfred Hitchcock film of the same name as its basis, The 39 Steps is a madcap farce crossed with a British murder mystery. The story concerns wry bachelor Richard Hannay (Charles Edwards), who crosses paths with a mysterious woman on the run (Jennifer Ferrin) and soon gets embroiled in her dangerous world. That world is populated by Nazis in disguise, inane train passengers, elderly Scottish hoteliers, and many more wacky characters, all played by just two gifted actors (Cliff Saunders and Arnie Burton). The greatest thing about The 39 Steps is its silly energy and clever stagecraft. Evocative stage effects are created with humor and efficiency, and the actors look like they're having a blast moving from one silly location (and character) to the next. Unfortunately the play doesn't provide as many solid laughs as one would hope. Much of the humor doesn't elicit much more than a smile or chuckle, though some will appreciate the constant name-checking of famous Hitchcock movies. Fans of the titular film will probably best enjoy this smartly-staged send-up. The Little Mermaid by Brooke Pierce (2/5/08) Now playing (and swimming and singing) at the Lunt-Fontanne Theater is Disney's latest animated-film-to-Broadway transfer, The Little Mermaid. Originally based on a Hans Christian Andersen tale, the musical is about Ariel, the free-spirited, sweet-voiced youngest daughter of sea king Triton. When she falls for a handsome human prince, Ariel trades her voice to an evil sea witch in exchange for the legs she needs to pursue him. Mermaid deserves a lot of credit for taking a risk with its design, which is rather daring and often mesmerizing, if not always completely successful. Scenic designer George Tsypin has created a series of large set pieces to establish each world (the bright sea kingdom of King Triton, the murky lair of sea witch Ursula, the ship that the prince sails on, etc.) and he mixes realistic floaty effects with shiny metals to create a sort of underwater Art Deco look. Costume designer Tatiana Noginova also goes for something between the literal and the non-literal, giving the actors playing sea creatures little touches like a beak protruding from the forehead or feathers on the skin, while still keeping them in people-type clothes (e.g. Ariel's dress has a mermaid tail instead of a train). First-time Broadway director Francesca Zambello has assembled a strong cast. Supporting players Tituss Burgess as anxiety-ridden crab Sebastian, John Treacy Egan as Chef Louis, Sherie Renee Scott as Ursula, and Derrick Baskin and Tyler Maynard as devious electric eels are particular stand-outs. Newcomer Sierra Boggess is a lovely Ariel and Sean Palmer is a likable Prince Eric, but it's not until the second act that both characters really come to life, as they become friends and fall in love. In fact, the second act, which includes a lush staging of "Kiss the Girl" and a riotous "Les Poissons" (wherein Chef Louis tries to cook Sebastian), is considerably better than the first act, which feels too long and too loaded with unecessary numbers. The original Alan Menken-Howard Ashman score has been beefed up considerably with new songs penned by Menken and Glenn Slater, but most of them don't really register. Two key exceptions are "She's in Love", sung by Ariel's friend Flounder (played alternately by moppets Trevor Braun and Brian D'Addario) and her older sisters, and the beautiful second-act quarter "If Only". In the spectrum of Disney shows, The Little Mermaid most resembles the Lunt-Fontanne's former occupant, Beauty and the Beast. It has that kind of fairy tale magic, but without hitting the creative highs of The Lion King (nor, thankfully, the creative lows of Tarzan). Mermaid is a respectable entry into the Disney On Stage canon, but it still leaves one wishing that 'The Mouse' would put more effort into creating new Broadway shows for the whole family. Is He Dead? by Brooke Pierce (2/5/08) The question in the title of this newly discovered, unproduced Mark Twain play (adapted, probably heavily, by David Ives) is posed by a pretentious art-buyer as he wonders how much an artist's paintings are worth. The artist in question is Jean-Francois Millet, a struggling genius who is not dead, and therefore not in demand. Realizing that death could be the answer to all his problems (making his name, paying his debts), Millet and his friends hatch a scheme to fake his death and sell his store of paintings at exhorbitant prices. Of course, Millet can't be expected to hide out during all the fun, so he creates a new identity -- as his own sister. Is He Dead? is light on laughs at first. Several Twain aphorisms don't quite land on stage the way they might on the page, and Millet's friends are mostly too-bland or too-annoying. But when Butz dons that dress, the farcical fun really begins. While a man in drag might seem like a thin joke, Butz plays his brash feminine alter ego with such relish that he's a joy to watch. And once Byron Jennings' delicious, mustache-twirling villain starts vying for his/her affection, the silly fun compounds. It might not carry the weight of other Twain works, but Is He Dead?, playing at the Lyceum Theatre, features lots of crazy characters, door-slamming antics, some handsome paintings, and one of Broadway's most talented leading men in a dress. What's not to like? The Seafarer by Brooke Pierce (2/5/08) The Seafarer, now playing at the Booth Theatre, takes place on a Christmas Eve in Ireland. Dour, responsible Sharky finds himself back home taking care of his blind, cantankerous brother Richard (Jim Norton), and putting up with Richard's loser poker buddies. Fighting off the demon of alcoholism, Sharky is in no mood to be entertaining a bunch of drunken louts, but he soon finds he has a bigger demon on his hands when one of those louts turns out to be the Devil come for his due. The play ambles at first, but it's still quite entertaining, as we get to know Sharky (David Morse) and the gang, which includes henpecked Ivan (Conleth Hill) and cocky Nicky (Sean Mahon). Sharky seems to be trying to move on from an unhappy past, and the appearance of these men is not helping matters. They gossip, they drink, they argue, and they can't wait to play some cards. Little do most of them know how high the stakes will get as the night wears on. Playwright Conor McPherson, best known for his ghost story play The Weir, has no trouble introducing the Devil himself into this scenario realistically, helped by actor Ciaran Hinds, who is so excellent as the Prince of Darkness in flesh. McPherson contrasts Hinds' dapper, dignified bearing with the coarseness of the other men as a metaphor for the division between humans (with all their clumsy flesh and failings) and spirits. But McPherson makes the point that despite this, we humans have friendship and love, which Satan loathes and envies us for. Making The Seafarer, for all its drinking and swearing and fighting, one of the most soft-hearted plays on Broadway this season. The Homecoming by Brooke Pierce (2/5/08) Nothing really makes sense in The Homecoming, Harold Pinter’s 1964 play now being revived on Broadway at the Cort Theatre. As the first minutes unfold, with grouchy widower Max sparring with his smart-aleck son Lenny, and bullying son Joey and brother Sam, you may think you’re looking at a darkly funny domestic drama about the English working class. But then the eldest son, prodigal Teddy, drops in with his wife Ruth, and any sense of reality seems to disappear. Why does Ruth behave so stiffly? Why does she flirt with Teddy’s brothers right in front of him? Why doesn’t he care? Why does Teddy, a professor of Philosophy, insist he isn’t equipped to talk about metaphysics when Lenny attempts to engage him in a discussion? There might be a reason, but Pinter will never tell. Confounding audiences for over 50 years now, the Nobel Prize-winning playwright is one of those love-‘im-or-hate-‘im kind of writers. He doesn’t go out of his way to flesh out his characters or offer any motives for their frequently bizarre behavior. They also have a habit of either prattling on endlessly or punctuating their already drawn out dialogue with cryptic pauses. If this isn’t your cup of tea, The Homecoming does still offer a lot of (very bleak) humor, clever writing, tension to spare, and a fine cast including Raul Esparza as perpetually insincere Lenny, Eve Best (so full of life in A Moon for the Misbegotten last season) as dead-eyed Ruth, Ian McShane as cane-wielding Max, and Michael McKean as Sam, the most decent character in this house of sociopaths. Unfortunately The Homecoming, under Daniel Sullivan’s direction, is lacking the quality most crucial to the Pinter mystique: menace. McShane never appears like a truly violent threat, and Esparza’s breathless oddball monologues make him seem more impish than dangerously unpredictable. Minus a palpable sense of terror, the audience isn't left with much else to do but appreciate the little power struggles being waged by these inscrutable people -- or else be bored to tears by it all. Come Back Little Sheba by Brooke Pierce (2/5/08) In William Inge’s 1952 play, Come Back, Little Sheba, currently being revived by Manhattan Theatre Club at the Biltmore Theatre, Law & Order’s S. Epatha Merkerson plays sweet housewife Lola. Her husband, Doc (Kevin Anderson), has been sober for nearly a year, and things are looking up for this middle-aged couple who have clearly had their share of problems. But a young college girl, Marie, lodging in their spare bedroom, threatens to change all that. The Sheba of the title is a lost dog that Lola occasionally calls for, and it is an obvious symbol for the lost youth that both she and Doc are trying to recapture through Marie. Bored at home, Lola enjoys playing maid to Marie and her jock boyfriend Turk, while Doc distrusts the boy who he is afraid will steal Marie’s virtue. And so the developments in Marie’s love life have serious consequences to Doc and Lola’s marriage. Some aspects of Come Back Little Sheba, particularly its focus on the dangers and treatment of violent alcoholism, have what today is regarded as a TV-movie-of-the-week quality (though it surely had more impact in its time). But the play’s dialogue actually feels quite fresh, and the domestic drama remains compelling. Especially in Lola’s nattering exchanges with the milkman, postman, and neighboring housewife Mrs. Coffman (a wonderful severe Brenda Wehle), Little Sheba shows what a keen observer Inge was of regular American folks and all their weaknesses.
The man who wrote A Few Good Man (a stage play before it became a much-quoted film) returns to the stage again with The Farnsworth Invention, a new drama about the race to invent television. With TV shows as varied as The West Wing and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Sorkin has shown his ability to educate on a variety of subjects while also entertaining. The fast-paced Farnsworth is no exception, expounding on everything from technology to the stock market crash of 1929. First and foremost, though, the play is about two men. One, Philo T. Farnsworth, is a brilliant Idaho boy who thinks he has figured out how to create television and assembles a small team to do just that. The other, David Sarnoff, is a man who came to America as an immigrant, went on to establish popular radio, and wants desperately to be the first to introduce television. Farnsworth and Sarnoff's labs work feverishly to perfect the technology, and eventually they end up in a legal battle to determine who can claim ownership of it. If The Farnsworth Invention has a weakness, it's that it is too presentational - Sorkin has his characters frequently addressing the audience, revealing their feelings, telling stories, and explaining anything that might be unclear. But thanks to Des McAnuff's slick direction and Sorkin's razor sharp writing, the lack of action barely registers. Hank Azaria is perfect as the driven Sarnoff, and relative unknown Jimmi Simpson is excellent as Farnsworth. Thanks to them, and to Sorkin, both characters keep well shy of falling into the stereotype trap of ruthless capitalist vs. small town boy. Instead, Sorkin paints a picture of two passionate rivals who, together (even if unwillingly), were crucial in the creation of the most influential invention of the 20th Century. August: Osage County by Brooke Pierce (1/30/08) If you saw Tracy Letts' creepy, claustrophobic tale of paranoia, Bug, in its Off-Broadway run a couple years ago, you would have never guessed in a million years that the same guy would create August: Osage County, a sprawling family drama set in a Midwestern farm house. Letts' latest, very different triumph is about the family of an old college professor who has gone missing, and the hell that breaks loose when they all gather together in his home. Nearly every member of the Weston clan is highly dysfunctional, and the play deals with everything from drug addiction to incest. On the surface, and even for the first half hour or so, August seems like it might just be a glorified soap opera. But as it rolls on, penetrating deeper into these people's lives, it nearly becomes grand opera. The play is extreme (I weep for anybody who has a family half as screwed up as this one), but it is also riotously funny, exceedingly well written, touching, and troubling. At three and a half hours, and taking place entirely in Todd Rosenthal's big three-story house set, it has the aura of Long Day's Journey Into Night. But August is not perfect, and there are certainly aspects of the drama that strain credulity (in some instances, especially concerning the youngest member of the Weston family, Letts seems to go for shock value over realism). This production of August: Osage County, now playing at the Imperial Theatre, arrived directly from a successful run at the Steppenwolf in Chicago, and most of the original cast is in tact. Headed by Deanna Dunagan as the family's pill-popping matriarch, and Amy Morton as the abrasive daughter who eventually starts to take charge, this ensemble is extraordinary. See them before the show ends its limited run on April 13.
La MaMa, downtown NYC, has brought from Italy Teatro del Carretto’s marvelous production of Pinocchio. The company, well-recognized in Europe, is making its US debut. Pinocchio is a dark production, for adults, spoken in Italian, with visual elements that are universally eloquent. Its central actor stands with knees together and feet apart, his spine curved forward and sideways, his palms forward just outside the shoulders in shock and defense. He’s the picture of oppression in his timeless white jersey and shorts, with that silly nose strapped on. He might well look oppressed. Even with no translation beyond the program notes, it’s clear that he’s the abused man. He’s overworked, humiliated, trained as a circus act, made to jump through a flaming hoop, changed into an ass, and hanged. The stage is bare, with a semi-circular wall on the back and sides, suggesting a circus ring, and when the masked actors around him, it’s spooky. Some of the costumes, which are of no particular time, suggest commedia dell’arte. On a stage of no particular place, they make for a fable of all time and places. It’s a blessing that I didn’t understand the Italian. Freed of denotative meaning, the language is as subtle and eloquent as music. Indeed, some of my most pleasurable moments were spent just listening. Italian is the most musical of languages, and this troupe gives it the deliberate cadence of music, with clear tempo changes, and making the bootsteps extensions of its beat. The Pinocchio story may be the play’s starting point, but it’s been developed almost beyond recognition. The program lists 25 scenes mostly unrelated to the myth, each with a specific action, like the stations of the cross. Pinocchio was written by Carlo Collodi (did you know that?). Here, it’s adapted and directed by Maria Grazia Cipriani. The wonderful actor’s name is Giandomenico Cupaiuolu. We’re grateful to La MaMa for this gift of European theatre. Happy Days Are Here Again by Steve Capra (1/25/08) Happy Days is one of the 20th century’s great masterpieces. Samuel Beckett’s metaphor for everything, it presents Winnie buried up to her waist in earth. Indominable to the last, she cries “What a curse – mobility!” and “Hardly a day without some blessing in disguise.” The Brooklyn Academy of Music has just presented The National Theatre of Great Britain’s production of the play, directed by Deborah Warner, with Fiona Shaw as its unconquerable heroine. It’s a brilliant, monumental success. Tim Pye’s set, a marvelous great pile of earth and stone, flows into the audience and out to the wings, the perfect image of solidity. Its weight is inarguable, but its glimmer of minerals gives it a sort of heartless sheen. As Winnie’s emotions ramble from one top another, the existential fact of the earth remains unchanged. Behind is hung a postmodernist rectangle of barren landscape. Beckett’s great accomplishment is to transform his minimalist view of life into his minimalist style. As Winnie tells us,“There is so little to do one does it all.” So little indeed. She has a bag full of objects – cosmetics, and a gun for comfort – and a hat to keep her entertained. Willie lives in a hole behind her. She cannot move; he cannot speak, although in Beckett’s subtle, super-extended metaphor he does move a little, crawling out toward her twice. The metaphor embraces the universe of consciousness – memory, tears, joy, anger. It’s profound and abstruse. There’s an inexplicable control over life: Winnie may throw away her hand mirror, but “The glass will be there again tomorrow without a scratch” in her black bag. Moreover, Winnie has not always been in this fix, covered with earth, controlled by a bell for waking and another for sleep. There was a time she had legs. And there have been passers-by – indeed, “the last mankind to pass this way” suggested that Willie dig her out. Sometimes she speaks in “the old style” that acknowledges time, using words like “daily”. But memories aren’t regretful. It all comes back to her sometimes, and she tells us “that’s what I find so wonderful”. And after all, time passes, and the situation changes. After the intermission she’s buried up to her neck. Now, the stage directions are notoriously specific in this play, so that its various productions are more or less the same, the way classical music compositions are more or less the same compared to jazz, with some better executed than others. The variations between performances are subtle but not unimportant. The choice characteristic of this production is to make Winnie noticeably lass sanguine in the second act. Things get worse, and she knows it. In Fiona Shaw’s bravura performance, each beat is crystalline. Her lines are a series of short outbursts, and she brings to them definition and commitment. This is the height of representational acting, anti-mimetic, without inner life, like the performance of a living marionette. And we need to consider the effect of the British language us American audiences. Our associations with that dialect, its perceived self-conscious sophistication, give this hapless character a poignant edginess. As it does so often, BAM has imported a masterpiece.
In December The World Music Institute presented a program called From Cairo to Bukhara, a selection of Arab music. Nadim Dlaikan opened on the nay, which is a reed flute, and other solo instruments, playing Lebanese folk music. The nay has a wonderful sound, with ghosts of undertones along with the clear main pitch. The mizmar has quite a different quality, like a bagpipe, but abrasive. It's meant for outdoor play - in fact, it's call a shepherd's flute. Mr. Dlaikan joked that we may want to cover our ears before he started playing this one! Dlaikan was followed by music from the Anatolian Armenians by Richard Hogapian and two other musicians. Hogapia himself played the ud, which is an instrument with 11 strings, and sang. His son was on the zither, while the third musician handled percussion. This marvelous music was comprised of both folk and classical pieces, dance and love songs. The first half of the program closed with Bukharan music (Bukhara is in the Uzbek Republic) performed by Fatima Kuinova and the ensemble Shashmaqam. The term shashmaqam also refers to the musical style of that region. The nine-person group performed in traditional costume, and included a lively dancer. This music, with its unison singing, was bold and festive. However, I found it difficult. Perhaps in the open air, without electronic amplification, it would lose its harsh quality. Not all of Shashmaqam's work has this sound. The evening's second half featured Simon Shaheen and the Near Eastern Music Ensemble, a terrific group of musicians. Near Eastern Music offers us a shower of notes. We hear the pattern within the spray instead of a simple lead as in western music. It's complex and delicate. Once our ears have accepted this different musical language, we find in it an array of subtle emotions. Let's hope The Word Music Institute continues to coax us out of our musical complacency.
William Finn is one of the most unusual songwriters in the modern musical theatre. He has a gift for melody, a sentimental streak, and a downright bizarre way of phrasing things – which is, of course, why everybody loves him. (Who else would write a song that starts "My Father is a homo, my mother's not thrilled at all"??). The neon caricatured face of the gruff, bearded, neurotic Finn hangs above Stage 5 at New World Stages, where the new musical revue of his work, Make Me a Song, is now playing, and the show's talented four-person cast do a bang-up job of bringing his quirky spirit to life below. Although Finn is most significantly represented at the moment by his score to the charming little Broadway musical The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, none of those songs can be heard here. Instead, there is a sampling of Falsettos, the semi-autobiographical A New Brain, the Elegies song cycle, and selections from little known or unproduced Finn musicals. It's a fantastic 90 minutes of songs, starting with the show's title tune, moving into delightful New Brain ensemble numbers like "Heart and Music" and "Law of Genetics" (both with fantastic arrangements by Jason Robert Brown), and moving towards the end with poignant solos "When the Earth Stopped Turning" and "Anytime (I Am There)". Finn fans will also be happy to hear a few songs in between that they might not have come across before, such as the inspirational "You're Even Better Than You Think You Are" and the hilarious "Stupid Things I Won't Do" (the latter written for Elaine Stritch to sing in the never-made-it-to-Broadway musical adaptation of The Royal Family). The show takes time in the middle to offer a special salute to Finn's most renowned work, Falsettos, with a suite that hits some of the musical's melodic highlights but only truly spotlights a few of the songs. "Four Jews in a Room Bitching," "The Baseball Game," and "Unlikely Lovers" are all smartly chosen, as they each showcase Make Me a Song's quartet of singers, Sandy Binion, D.B. Bonds, Adam Heller, and Sally Wilfert, who are all wonderful. Unfortunately the revue gives short shrift to In Trousers, Finn’s lesser known prequel to Falsettos, which only gets one song here, "Set Those Sails" (combined beautifully with another New Brain tune, "I'd Rather Be Sailing"). Conceived and directed by Rob Ruggiero, Make Me a Song is a solid introduction to the work of William Finn for newbies and an enjoyable evening for the already-initiated. Ruggiero, the talented cast, and onstage pianist/music director Darren R. Cohen (who also supplies the occasional vocal) capture the wit, anxiety, anger, and joy that characterizes Finn’s music. Go ahead, let them make you a song.
Taking it to the Streets by Steve Capra
(12/6/07) Director Michael Thalheimer has chosen this bold approach (he’s known for it) in spite of the counterindications in the script. Lulu is Everyman’s desire, but she’s protean, not an absolute. Each man has his own name for her (‘Eve’ or ‘Mignon’ or something). “I like them incomplete,” one lover says of her. Thalheimer has based his lean, abbreviated adaptation on Pandora’s Box: A Monster-Tragedy, a five-act drama (1892 or so), referred to as Lulu. Wedekind later rewrote the play as two dramas, Earth Spirit and Pandora’s Box, which had a highly censored history. (In 1928 German director G.W. Pabst adapted them into a brilliant silent film.) The original script was discovered only after FW’s death. Lulu is one of the great bravura roles. A slut of the first magnitude, she runs through a series of husbands and other men, causing some of them to exit this life, all the while resisting a woman’s advances. Finally, after convoluted plot twists (again an obstacle to grandeur), she has to take to the streets in London, and she meets her demise at the hands of a character based on Jack the Ripper. In this production, Lulu is a monster indeed; she licks her dead husband’s blood from her lover’s hand. The actress, Fritzi Haberlandt, is suitably detached from sexuality, but she makes the character into an insolent brat. Worse, she looks wrong for the part – too hard. Nonetheless, the actors drop their pants - literally, on stage - one after another, slaves to their appetites. As the play progresses, that screen creeps downstage, crushing the actors against the fourth wall; there’s clearly an impressive conceptual talent at work. The production is enormously powerful, but so is a blunt object to the head. Thalheimer’s minimalism, reducing the script to actors alone, is wrong for the script. Note that the characters speak German in Germany, but, in public, they speak French in Paris and English in London. This is super-naturalism. Indeed, it’s nearly farce, smaller than life: when Lulu (accidently?) shoots Husband Number Two, he says “I’m fat enough.” The director wants to give the characters the dignity of Greek prototypes, and he can’t. The lines themselves need context to be truthful. In reading, they’re cryptic. In this production, they’re undecipherable. And speaking of the lines: there’s a tacky insert in the program crediting the English Titles. This should have been a clue, I suppose. The dialogue is difficult, even in the reading, and this cast spit out the lines with the rhythm of a machine gun. The surtitles aren’t up to the challenge, and it’s often impossible to tell which character is speaking the line we’re reading. A times, the surtitles give up, the screens are blank, and we’re left to out own devices. |
Table of Contents 7/11/08 Rounding Third (Majestic Theater, West Springfield, MA) 6/9/08 Metro Stage Company's Ruthless a Riot (Metro Stage Company, Cambridge, MA) 5/26/08 Ancient Songs of South Africa (Nggoko Cultural Group, NYC) 5/20/08 Happy Days (Goodspeed Opera House, East Haddam, CT) 5/9/08 The Pirates of Penzance(New World Chorale, Milford, MA) 5/5/08 Pure Joy of Movement(Prometheus Dance Elders Ensemble) 4/24/08 The Full Monty Majestic Theatre, West Springfield, MA) 4/12/08 The Smothers Brothers & Springfield Symphony Orchestra (Symphony Hall, Springfield, MA) 3/15/08 The Ten Tenors (Colonial Theatre, Pittsfield, MA) 3/12/08 Buddha (off-off Broadway) 3/2/08 Enchanted April (Majestic Theatre, Springfield, MA) 02/20/08 The Drowsy Chaperone (The Bushnell, Hartford, CT) 02/19/08 Love Letters (Princebury Players, Wellesley, MA) 02/19/08 All My Sons (Exit 7 Players, Ludlow, MA) 02/17/08 Don't Dress for Dinner (Suffield Players, Suffield, CT) 02/05/08 The 39 Steps (Roundabout Theatre Co., American Airlines Theatre, NYC) 02/05/08 The Little Mermaid (Lunt-Fntanne Theater, NYC) 02/05/08 Is He Dead? (Lyceum Theatre, NYC) 02/05/08 The Seafarer (Booth Theatre, NYC) 02/05/08 The Homecoming (CORT Theatre, NYC) 02/05/08 The 39 Steps (Rounabout Theatre Company, American Airlines Theatre, NYC) 01/30/08 Come Back Little Sheba (Manhattan Theatre Club, Biltmore Theatre, NYC) 01/30/08 August: Osage County (Imperial Theatre, NYC) 01/25/08 Pinocchio (La MaMa, NYC) 01/25/08 Happy Days (Brooklyn Academy of Music) 12/28/07 From Cairo to Bukhara (World Music Institute, NYC) 12/10/07 Make Me a Song (New World Stages, NYC) 12/6/07 Lulu (Brooklyn Academy of Music) |
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