My review of Lady Day or "I didn't think I could possibly love Audra more"

Lady Day at Emerson's Bar and Grill

Circle in the Square

Thursday, March 27, 8PM

Warning: This is a completely biased review from an unapologetic Audra-obsessed fanboy.  Do not expect impartial criticism.

Audra and Billie

I don’t care if the nominating committee can’t decide whether Lady Day is a “musical” or a “play with music.” Just hand Audra her sixth Tony. If I had my way, I would institute a “Best Performance by Audra McDonald” category and she could win a Tony every year. We can then debate the flawlessness of each performance in whatever show she’s currently appearing.

As a confirmed Audraphile, I admit even I had my doubts. Audra’s voice is perfection, but I just couldn’t imagine Audra’s soaring legit soprano attempt to take on Billie Holiday’s iconic songs and performance style.

What Ms. McD accomplishes transcends mere mimicry. She's dampened some of the glorious bloom and lushness of her soprano voice in order to inhabit - not just imitate - Holiday’s iconic sound, style and manner.

It’s unfortunate the book scenes don’t match the quality of Audra’s performance. They are uneven and sometimes unnecessarily meandering. But Audra manages to enthrall with even mediocre writing. There is an immediacy and desperation in her performance that only heightens the tragedy of Holiday’s short, demon-filled life.

The intimate Circle in the Square is the perfect venue to see Audra up close and personal. And even as a boozed-up, heroin addict, Audra’s still radiant. Though I suspect if she ever played a homeless, scarred leper I’d still find her radiant.

Did I mention I’m obsessed with Audra?

Props to the excellent onstage jazz trio whose talents are equally responsible for the style and sound of the show.

“It has some nice tunes, but the story…”

The Threepenny Opera

Atlantic Theater Company

Thursday, March 20, 8PM

Now read the title of this review again, but with a thick Jewish accent.

…thus proclaimeth the elderly gentlemen sitting in front of me to his wife and their companions as the intermission house lights came up.

He probably expected a jolly romp a la Guys and Dolls after his wife sold him on the show by telling him, “It has that Frank Sinatra song ‘Mack the Knife’ in it.” I’m not sure “Brecht” and “jolly” should ever be associated together in the same sentence.

I’m actually a Threepenny virgin, so I was very much looking forward to the Atlantic’s revival (not to mention the $20 ticket price!). The production, still in previews, is a bit uneven and the talented cast is still struggling to find a cohesive style. Nevertheless, there are several great performances and a few striking stage moments.

I’ll admit, after the opening 10 minutes I was thinking, “This is going to be a very long night.” The famous opening song is a meandering mess with the ensemble wandering and writhing around the stage aimlessly.

The show finally gains some traction with Polly’s entrance. Once again, Laura Osnes proves she’s not just another pretty reality show victim but a bona fide actress. She captures the presentational style of the piece while still managing to connect emotionally with the audience. Her “Pirate Jenny” and “Jealousy Duet” with Lucy (Lilli Cooper) are show highlights.

There’s a lot of crotch grabbing, simulated sex, and even some full frontal nudity, which, I guess is part of the Epic theatre’s “shock” value. It didn’t really bother me except during Jenny’s song where poor Sally Murphy was upstaged by background actors simulating fellatio and demonstrating the reverse cowgirl position. Though Murphy emoted center stage with nipples poking through a sheer bra and in a bright spotlight, I never gave her a second glance.

Michael Park is a credible Macheath, though I wanted him to be a bit edgier, darker – more dangerous. He’s almost a bit too “clean.”

Mary Beth Peil is a droll Mrs. Peachum. She would have made a fantastic Lovett in her day.

F. Murry Abraham has great stage presence, but seems like director/choreographer Martha Clarke hung him out to dry. He spends most of his songs wondering the front lip of the stage, directionless. He was not helped by some really obvious lighting queue gaffes that left him treading water in near darkness.

The three act musical takes a brief intermission in the middle of Act II. The second half of the play seems much more stylistically coherent than the clunky first half, though it could be a fault in the writing/translation.

As always, lobby eavesdropping prior to the show proved almost as entertaining as the stage performances. You would think a mother taking her adolescent children to a show would do a little research. "There's nudity?" she surprisingly asked the usher after reading a warning at the box office window. I'm sure she had no idea the show is about murderers and whores.

Bullets Over Broadway on Broadway

Bullets Over Broadway
St. James Theatre
Saturday, March 15, 2pm

When this shady old bitch was in college some 20 (gasp) odd years ago, Bullets Over Broadway was required Friday night drunken dorm viewing for any aspiring theatre dork/queen. So you can imagine the show boner I popped when Woody (pun intended – hehe) Allen announced he was prepping Bullets for a musical stage adaptation.

My amorous mood was shattered once producers announced they would use pre-existing period songs instead of creating an original score. My beloved Bullets was to be adapted into another awful jukebox musical tourist trap a la Mamma Mia. Don't speak. Please, don't speak.

The interpolated songs are fairly logically integrated into the plot and are newly arranged with some updated lyrics that lend (some) specificity to their placement in the show. There are, nonetheless, several instances where the shoe-horn effect grinds this otherwise solid stage adaptation to a screeching halt.

I don't know what kind of incriminating photos the producers are holding against Karen Ziemba, but I'm thankful it's forced her to accept what amounts to a glorified featured ensemble role. Regardless, she manages to transform the pleasant yet pointless "There's a New Day Comin'" into a reasonably inoffensive second act opener. Though I suspect the number was added to accommodate her luxury casting. And the thoroughly anticlimactic finale (“Yes, We Have No Bananas”) seems like a non sequitur, a place holder until the creative team can come up with an appropriately glitzy replacement.

The rest of the score is good to serviceable, mostly a means for the cast to show-off vocally or give Stro a reason to inject some leggy showgirls into the mix. It's all entertainingly performed and staged, but any one of the songs could be randomly cut and you'd really not miss it much. 

The flashy but tasteful art deco-inspired set is a marvel of designer ingenuity, with a remarkable amount of different locations suggested by a minimum of set pieces.  The second act rotating stage-within-a-stage embellished with chorus girls in tableau is the kind of staging inventiveness we expect from the prop-happy choreographer that brought us Crazy For You.

The show looks great, all the performances are solid and the choreography is vintage Susan Stroman - though nothing quite reaches the eye-popping excitement of her best work (i.e. "I Got Rhythm" or "Little Old Lay Land"). Still, the show never felt more than "pleasant" to me.

Keeping with my boner metaphor, I think the show shoots it's proverbial wad too soon. Near the beginning of the show, the wannabe actress, Olive, has an outrageous number called "I Want a Hot Dog for My Roll" (insert bat over head). Anyway, it has the audience roaring. Unfortunately, nothing that follows tops it. The audience keeps waiting for the 11 o' clock number that never comes.

Nick Cordero's Cheech is the highlight of the show and a shoe-in for a best supporting actor Tony nom. Mazzie looks and sounds gorgeous, but would have benefited from an original song that might better exploit her huge range and personality. Zach Braff is adorable with a pleasant enough singing voice, but the character doesn't really register much amidst all the other big personalities surrounding him. Helene York is an audience favorite, but seemed to go for the obvious choice - ditzy slut with nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. I think a much more interesting choice would have been to temper her a bit, make her more subtlely manipulative with maybe a hint of Bettie Boop. Then again, what do I know? Woody's a gajillionaire and I answer phones.