2014 in a nutshell

Did you miss me?  Anyway, here's a brief rundown of most of my 2014 theatre viewing.  Short and sweet.

Mothers and Sons (Bway - Golden, May 8, 7pm) - Tyne Daly can do no wrong, but I'm sure even she is sick of getting typecast in "nightmare mother" roles. The play poses interesting question of what constitutes family in these days of shifting definitions, but seems like a draft rather than a finished product.
A Gentlemen's Guide to Love and Murder (Bway - Walter Kerr, May 14, 8pm) - Nice to see legit singing back on Broadway. Clever staging, great performances, a dry, almost British comic sensibility, site gags a-plenty. Not earth-shattering, but an enjoyable evening of theatre.
If/Then (Bway - Richard Rodgers, May 29, 8pm) - Idina Menzel is in incredible voice, sounding better than ever (including Wicked). The dual story lines, while not necessarily confusing, seem a bit contrived. Especially the whole *spoiler alert* plane crash. Weird set design that basically cuts the stage height in half, with no apparent pay-off visually. Tom Kitt knows how to write a driving pop ballad. See it for Menzel's performance.
Holler if Ya Hear Me (Bway - Palace, Jun 5, 8pm) - Unlike every legit reviewer on the planet, I actually enjoyed this show. It wasn't perfect by any means. But I found the earnest, yet wildly shifting tone - one minute hardcore street, the next minute a J-Lo music video - enough to keep me interested. Tupac's music and lyrics are worth a listen.
Lady Day (Bway - Circle in the Square, Jun 7, 2pm) - Audra is a goddess and I just needed to see the show for a third time.
Piece of My Heart (OB - Signature Center, Jun 26, 7:30p) - I had no idea that Bert Berns was behind so many hit songs of the 60s. The book is a little rough and the criminally under-used Leslie Kritzer needs more to sing, but you can't beat the score of pop hits.
Violet (Bway - AA, Jul 5, 2:00p) - Sutton Foster is just about perfect and the score is one of Tesori's best. Ensemble cast is uniformly excellent. Glad to have caught this production as a Broadway revival isn't likely again anytime soon.
This Is Our Youth (Bway - Cort, Aug 30, 2pm) - An usher randomly offered to move Trish and I to front row seats, so we got plenty of up-close time with Kieren Culkin and Michael Cera. Solid production, well-cast.
Found (OB - Atlantic Theater, Sep 21, 7pm) - Went in cold and thoroughly enjoyed this quirky musical full of unexpected wit and charm about the pitfalls of success. Always nice to see colleague Orville Mendoza on stage. The show is unique and idiosyncratic, so sadly it probably won't be a hit with the masses.
On The Town (Bway - Lyric, Sep 27, 8pm) - Huge-scale Broadway revival of the Bernstein/Comden/Green musical about sailors on shore leave in the 1940s. Cried when they played the National Anthem to open the show and everyone stood up and sang. I'm sucker for sentimentality. Athletic choreography, virtuoso dancing, huge ensemble, full orchestra, Bernstein score. What's not to like?
The Last Ship (Bway -Neil Simon, Oct 6, 8pm) - Haunting, tuneful score by pop icon Sting in a gorgeous production with a stunning final tableau. And Rachel Tucker should be a star in America (not just in her native Ireland/UK). I honestly don't understand the bad reviews.
On The Town (Bway - Lyric, Oct 23, 7pm) - With another large-scale Broadway revival highly unlikely within my lifetime, had to make a second visit.
Side Show (Bway - St. James, Oct 1, 8pm) - I'm definitely a fan of the much-maligned original production. I found this re-imagined "revisal" less affecting than the original, but appreciated the more realistic approach to the staging and make-up. And you really can't beat the score chock full of driving power ballads. What can I say? I'm a child of the 80s. It's near impossible to match the balls-to-the-wall original performances of Ripley and Skinner, but Erin Davie and Emily Padgett are worthy successors.
Fortress of Solitude (OB - Public, Nov 8, 8pm) - Wonderful score, inventive staging, the always charming Adam Chanler-Berat heading a top-notch Broadway caliber cast rocking a nostalgia-driven period pop and R&B driven score. Hope to see a move uptown in a bigger production that I think would only elevate the piece given the scope of the material.
You Can't Take It With You (Bway - Longacre, Nov 13, 7pm) - I have just three words - James Earl Jones. Annaleigh Ashford is pretty spectacular, too. Nice to see this chestnut lifted out of high-school-production purgatory and given a full-scale Broadway production.
Honeymoon in Vegas (Bway - Nederlander, Nov 20, 8pm) - Jason Robert Brown just can't catch a break. As always, a fantastic score saddled to a problematic book that maybe clung too literally to the source material. Honestly, I found my 2014 sensibilities unable to fully warm to the idea of betting your spouse in a poker game. But always great to see one of my old Grease tour castmates, Gaelen Gillilend, in yet another Broadway show (yes, I will continue to name drop!).

Italians, Asians and White Bitches...

Who said there isn’t any diversity on Broadway?

Here’s a down and-dirty re-cap of a few shows I failed to review earlier this year.

Bridges of Madison County

Schoenfeld Theatre

Tuesday, January 21, 8PM

The movie version is a guilty pleasure of mine, having bonded with my now sister-in-law, Val, while watching a rerun on TV and weeping uncontrollably as we watched Meryl agonizingly clutch the door handle of her truck while both of us screamed at the TV, “Go! Go with Clint!”

Perhaps it was our youthful idealism (or I’m now just a jaded, old bitch), but seeing the same scenario play out onstage nearly two decades later, Francesca’s choice doesn’t seem all that complicated to me. Stay with your loving husband (yeah, he’s boring, but you chose him) and children, or drop everything for the hunky drifter you’ve known for all of four days.

I know, it’s a romance and Steven Pasquale, I mean Robert, is super tasty, but in this case the pragmatist in me over-rides my hormones. Maybe that’s why I don’t quite buy the “soul mate” argument in this case.

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy Bridges (the musical). The score is gorgeous, and filled with JRB’s trademark soaring folk-pop ballads along with some more – dare I say – sophisticated writing for Kelli O’Hara’s lovely legit soprano. Sadly, I think her wonderful performance might get passed over once again at this year’s Tonys for bigger names and showier roles – always the bridesmaid. Oh well, at least she doesn’t have to compete against Audra.

Steven Pasquale is the reason the wife-beater t-shirt was invented. What a voice. And did I mention he’s hot?

My main quibble is with the show’s structure. Opening up the story gives too much time to secondary characters. I wanted to stay with Robert and Francesca. Their attraction is obviously sexual at first. But when/how does it become emotional? What’s Robert’s story (other than having an ex that left him a guitar that he can’t play)? They have sex and all of a sudden they’re in love and want to run away together? There are just so many details of their relationship I wanted to explore, but instead we get a random chorus member clogging at the state fair.

Kung Fu

Signature Theatre

Tuesday, February 18, 7:30PM

Bruce Lee’s story is fascinating and definitely worth telling, but this play suffers from multiple personal disorder. It’s sometimes a by-the-numbers biopic, sometimes a campy homage to Lee, and sometimes a visually stunning father-son dance fantasy.

That said, Sonia Tayeh (one of my favorite SYTYCD choreographers) is a goddess. Her choreography and movement (along with fight director, Emmanuel Brown) are the real stars of Kung Fu. Any time the piece moves – that includes the intricately choreographed set changes – I was engaged. The book scenes seemed like filler to get us to the next production number.

The cast, too, is uniformly excellent with Cole Horibe, a SYTYCD finalist with no previous acting credits, giving a respectable NYC stage debut. Though his thick, cartoonish accent – which I guess the real Bruce Lee may very well have possessed – often took me out of the moment. What he lacks in subtlety, he more than makes up for with his dancing, martial arts expertise and six pack.

Heathers

New World Stages

Sunday, March 30, 7:30PM

Heathers is maybe the gayest thing to hit NYC theatre in years. It’s a camp musical based on a camp film full of campy performances and campy catch phrases featuring shirtless young studs. Bring on the gays! I’ll also wager the producers hope to snag nostalgia driven forty-somethings (like me) longing to feel cool and relevant. Though the homo sub-plot, snicker-inducing at the time the movie was originally released, now seems positively quaint.

Heathers is a tad darker than the same songwriting team’s last stage effort, Broadway’s Legally Blond, but it covers similar ground. I was actually hoping the satire would be darker, more on the level of their earliest commercial work, Bat Boy. Oh well, at least we get a fun evening filled with the zinging one-liners that made the movie an instant classic. I mean, has any movie graced the English lexicon with a more memorable exclamation than “fuck me gently with a chainsaw”? Methinks not.

The score is efficient and pleasant enough, with the obligatory high belting to signify emotion. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just so, well, obvious. That said, I found “Blue,” sung by Kurt and Ram about a certain condition of the male genitalia, hilarious. Yes, my sense of humor is about on the level of a 10-year-old. And I’m sure the bullied Martha’s moving 11-o-clock number, “Kindergarten,” will be so overdone at auditions and cabarets over the next year that I’ll grow to hate it.

The cast is young and pretty and sing beautifully and loudly.

The unit set looks like the interior of a space ship from a bad 70s sci-fi movie (except in violet and pink hues) and at no time even remotely suggests any of the settings within the show.

The direction was adequate but pedestrian – basically moving traffic on an off the stage.

As a whole, the show felt like a Broadway musical banished to an off-Broadway house. The material and story cried out for a bigger venue and large cast.

At the performance I attended, the audience was peppered with annoying superfans that squealed and screamed at every familiar line or scene.

But did I enjoy myself? Yes.

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.

Back-to-back “Rocky”s

Rocky the Musical
Winter Garden Theatre
Thursday, Feb 13, 8PM &
Friday, Feb 14, 8PM

I’ve never been a huge fan of the Rocky franchise but the mere thought of a new Ahrens & Flaherty score is enough to get me drooling in anticipation. That, and the fantasy of A&H writing a new Witches of Eastwick musical starring Audra (in the Cher role), Carolee Carmello (in the Sarandon role) and Kate Baldwin (in the Pfeiffer role). Never gonna’ happen, but a girl can dream.

Tonight’s performance was the first official preview since last night’s performance was canceled due to electrical issues caused by all the salt and melting snow. In a brief pre-curtain speech, director Alex Timbers explained that the two huge metal beasts humming outside the theatre on Seventh Avenue are actually industrial generators. That’s right, ConEd, a little electrical issue isn’t gonna’ stop Philly’s finest from making his Broadway debut.

Timbers also warned that the show might be stopped at any moment to ensure the actors' safety given the technical demands of the massive multiple moving set piecess. I briefly envisioned Rocky Balboa flying Spider-Man-style above the stage, whacking into the side of the proscenium and then slowly sliding down the side of the stage.

But I couldn’t luxuriate in my schadenfreude-induced fantasy for long. The houselights dimmed and the iconic trumpet fanfare (interpolated from the movie) blared through the speakers. The audience expectedly roared its approval. And truth be told, hearing that music coupled with the crowd’s reaction got my adrenaline pumping as well.

The show itself is a fairly straight forward adaptation of the movie by original writer, Sylvester Stallone (with an assist from veteran book writer, Thomas Meehan). The turtles, the raw eggs, the “Yo, Adrienne!”’s and the Art Museum steps are all there – no surprises. 

Straight adaptions usually bother me but perhaps I was feeling unusually sentimental on this pre-Valentine's Day evening, because the shared audience familiarity was oddly comforting. I mean, it’s Rocky after all, not King Lear.

Though the score lacks the sweeping power of A&F’s previous efforts, it possesses a simplicity and sweetness that seems entirely appropriate for these blue collar characters. Though I’ll admit I did find myself waiting for the evening’s “Wheels of a Dream.” Sigh. Maybe I'll get my anthem fix in their upcoming Little Dancer.

The physical design is pretty spectacular with hulking set pieces fluidly (at least at the first preview) moving around and above the ant-like cast. Even a rafter-descending rack of beef sides gets enthusiastic audience applause.

And then there's the climactic final boxing match. Possibly the most exciting 15 minutes of staging I've witnessed in the last 10 years of theatre-going. I won't spoil it, but if a real fight is anywhere near as thrilling as what happens at the Winter Garden eight times a week, count me in for ringside seats at Madison Square Garden.

Of course, I may have been slightly influenced by the unusually vocal audience that seemed made up of the cast's friends and family and comped Equity members. After the show I even ran into an old actor friend who mistook my straight twink theatre companion for my boyfriend. As if. I don't date anyone born after the first Back to the Future movie was released. A lady needs to maintain some standards.

Photo courtesy of Broadway.com

And I almost forgot. Sly himself took a bow after the curtain call to congratulate the cast in his unmistakably slurred Stallone speech. The man does look good, if a bit "pulled."

Déjà vu - Rocky, take 2

With the upcoming President's Day weekend holiday, Juan and Val planned a staycation in the city. And after my freakish raves about Rocky's final fight scene, Val immediately bought us all TDF tickets for Friday night's performance.

Of course, Val hadn't realized it was also Valentine's Day, so instead of spending a romantic evening with Juan, she had to settle for a not-so-intimate evening with me, my "date" Dylan (another voice teacher at the conservatory) and the other 1500 or so audience members at the Winter Garden.

I'm a total musical theatre dork, but even I have never seen the same Broadway show two days in a row. I guess I can now graduate to theatre Queen - with a capital "Q" - which I assume entitles me to a longer red velvet cape and at least an added be-jeweled scepter.

While yesterday's first preview was technically flawless, the second preview - not so much. Several automated pieces malfunctioned and had to be moved manually by stage hands. The actors gamely improv-ed to cover some really awkward pauses and missed scene changes - most notably a missing set of lockers that set up a running gag through the show.

The stage manager then had to stop the show mid-way through act one for about 10 minutes to reset two large moving walls that decided they liked where they were sitting.

An important prop went missing in the second act - the Christmas tree topper that was supposed to be the button of Rocky and Adrienne's big Act 2 love duet.

Oh well, the magic of live theatre!

Other then the technical issues, the show played pretty consistently based on yesterday's first preview. Though Andy Karl seemed much more vocally secure the second night (first performance seemed to suffer a bit from opening night nerves causing some minor pitch issues). The rest of the performances were solid to good.

Rocky certainly is no Ragtime or Once on this Island, but it's a solid evening of fun nostalgia for those of us who can still remember the 80s. It's also the perfect "straight" guy musical (if he can sit still through the more traditional first act). But there's no denying the real star performance in this production - the awesome set and Alex Timber's direction.

Reviews - 2013

• Macbeth (Bway)
• Romeo and Juliet (Bway)
• Two Boys (Met)
• Fun Home (OB)
• Merrily We Roll Along (London/Movie Showing)
• Big Fish (Bway)
• The Glass Menagerie (Bway)
• The Nance (Bway)
• Nobody Loves You (OB)
• Pippin (Bway)
• The Little Mermaid (Paper Mill)
• Here Lies Love (OB)
• Into The Woods (McCarter)
• Far From Heaven (OB)
• Orphans (Bway)
• The Trip To Bountiful (Bway)
• Audra McDonald (Avery Fisher)
• The Last 5 Years (OB)
• Jekyll & Hyde (Bway)
• Passion (OB)
• Totem (Citi Field)
• It's a Bird...It's a Plane...It's Superman (Encores)
• Cinderella (Bway)
• Hands On A Hardbody (Bway)
• Annie (Bway)
• Nice Work If You Can Get It (Bway)
• Golden Age (OB)
• Evita (Bway)
• Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (Bway)

I'm still here! Catching up on 2013...

Nobody Loves You
Second Stage Theatre
Saturday, Aug 10 @ 2PM

A fun sit-com of a musical where a snotty grad student goes on a reality dating show to prove that reality shows are a scam.  And of course, ends up falling in love.  It's totally predictable, but the characters and actors are so likable that you excuse the trite set-up and inevitable conclusion.

The score is tuneful, generic pop musical theatre, but the talented cast elevates it beyond what it probably deserves.  It's crammed full of media and technology references that scream "aren't we clever" and for the most part, they are.  Although many of the gray-haired matinee ladies were looking around in confusion as the younger set laughed over hashtags and texting acronyms.

I wish Leslie Kritzer had more to do, but she does the most she can with a big ole stereotype of a character (incidentally, all the characters as written are big ole stereotypes).  Heath Calvert is perfect as a hunky, dim narcissist of a television host.  And Rory O'Malley displays his comic versatility in a range of characters from douche bag frat boy to flamboyant gossip queen.

It's harmless fun with a top notch cast.

The Nance
Lyceum Theatre
Saturday, Aug 10 @ 8PM

It's been months now, but what I remember most was my surprise at Nathan Lane's heartbreaking performance in a dramatic role.  Ever since The Producers, it seemed Lane was stuck in a never-ending loop of wacky, flamboyant comic character roles.  He'd become a caricature of himself.

In The Nance Lane plays Chauncey, a 1930s burlesque comedian trying to come to terms with his sexuality at a time when homosexuality was still considered a mental illness.  Things get complicated when a handsome young stranger forces Chauncey to question his hedonistic lifestyle (to whore, or not to whore?).

The play's structure consists of period musical and comedy skits intercut between traditional dialogue scenes, with the skits commenting on the action of the play.  Cady Huffman, Andrea Burns and Jenni Barber are the lovable activist strippers trying to stand-up to the evil censoring Republicans looking to shut down the burlesque houses.  The only thing missing is a trumpet, some butterfly wings and a light-up bra.

Refreshingly, this isn't the campy romp we usually come to expect from Douglas Carter Beane, who appropriately leaves most of the bitchy one-liners within the skits.

Jonny Orsini is affecting as the young object of Chauncey's lust.  The straightforwardness and simplicity of his acting - as well as some full frontal action - quickly earn the audience's sympathies.

The Glass Menagerie
Booth Theatre
Sunday, Sep 8, 2PM

I'm now officially an aging theatre queen.  It's depressing enough that producers are reviving shows I've seen in their original productions.  But now I'm on to multiple revivals of the same show!  Sigh.  Pretty soon I'll be lamenting the bygone era of LPs and mix tapes and reminiscing about the good ole' days when MTV used to play - gasp - music videos.

Anyway, the most striking aspect of the most recent revival of Tennessee Williams' The Glass Menagerie is the stunning set and lighting design.  The designers have interpreted the "memory play" aspect of the script into a literal visual image.  The set and players seem to float within the dark expanse of the theatre's proscenium.

As always, Cherry Jones gives a thoughtful, intelligent performance as Amanda, the fading southern matriarch.  She infuses her Amanda with a grounded, earth-mother vibe that I'm not totally convinced is the most appropriate route for the character.  It's a growling, fierce performance that seems at odds with Amanda's genteel debutante past.  It's definitely original and unexpected, but I prefer my Amanda's a bit more, well, southern.  Maybe it's because my first Amanda was the delicate, oh-so-southern, Jessica Lange.

Zachary "Spock" Quinto is lending a not-so-subtle gay subtext to Tom, and there is some pretty overt homo-eroticism going on between Tom and the gentleman caller in the second act.  No such undertones in the Lange production, where Christian Slater (yes, that Christian Slater) played Tom as just a schlubby loser.

The director, John Tiffany, adds some interesting impressionistic flourishes to the staging.  Some work wonderfully - characters literally teetering on the "edge" of the set (i.e. their memories) - while others seem gimmicky - repeated movements reminiscent of acting class exercises.

And in case your wondering, I'm in the camp that likes the woman-eating couch.  Don't ask.

It may not be the perfect production for Menagerie purists, but this is a genuinely original take on the well-known melodrama.

Romeo and Juliet
Richard Rodgers
Sunday, Sep 29 @ 3pm

Beside the several phone interruptions and clandestine photo-taking by the teenager and her mom sitting next to me, I found myself not hating this recent Broadway revival of the Bard's classic love story.  It's not ground-breaking or revelatory, but the well-known story still packs an emotional punch and Bloom and Rashad are charming and likable.

Sure, the loud, clanging incidental music and sleek modern design obviously caters to the attention-span challenged tweeners and star-fuckers feigning class by attending "Shakespea-uh on the Broadway," but it's entertaining nonetheless.

Thanks to a second row orchestra seat (go TDF!), I got an eyeful of the strapping Orlando Bloom and lovely Condola Rashad.  But the unfortunate placement of the balcony at the lip of the stage left me with a stiff neck and aching lower back by the end of the evening.

Even up close, the 30-something Bloom still passes for a twink - must be some kind of Middle Earth elf magic - and he gives a charmingly earnest, unaffected performances.  I'm a Rashad fan, but surprisingly I found her the weaker of the pair, trying just a tad too hard to feign the glow of youthful naivete.  But Bloom and Rashad have a palpable chemistry and from the balcony scene onward, they literally can't keep their hands off each other.

Director David Leveaux has a weird obsession with two-wheeled vehicles.  Romeo enters on a motorcycle (for no apparent reason other than for the "cool" factor) and the nurse spends most of her time walking a bicycle around the stage.  Oddly, she never rides it.

There are some inconsistencies in the acting styles within the company and the production doesn't really seem to take place in any specific time or period, but it didn't bother me much since the language is so darn beautiful.

Not a total waste of an afternoon, but sitting in the Rodgers I was reminded of a former tenant, a show that I enjoyed much more, In The Heights.

The Three Witches' - er - I mean, Ethan Hawke's Macbeth

Macbeth
Lincoln Center
Wednesday, Nov 6, 8PM

With Trish hanging in RVA for the next couple of months, I had to find myself a new show buddy. Since most of my friends are certified musical theatre queens (me included), I resorted to a straight date with newly employed hetero friend, Chris Grimm. Sadly, our first "date" didn't amount to much, mainly due to a languid and uneven production. The evening seemed endless and after three hours, I was hoping to be the next victim of Ethan's dagger.

The sleek and stylish physical production, in cool shades of black and gray with the occasional splash of symbolic red, seemed a bit too chic for its own good, though it made for some visually stunning stage pictures. The couture costumes, especially for Lady Macbeth, seemed lifted straight out of a Vogue spread - gorgeous, but perhaps not entirely appropriate. Lighting and projections were suitably eerie and often spectacularly cinematic.

Unfortunately, the all-too-often bare (though gorgeously lit) stage led to some fairly stilted blocking with actors peppered around the huge Beaumont stage talking at each other with not much else to do. The lack of action created lots of tennis-match style ensemble work.

The only performers able to successfully navigate the director's sabotage were the three witches. Played by men in rotting-robed drag, John Glover, Byron Jennings, and Malcolm Gets make the strongest stage impression. Slipping in and out of character to play minor roles throughout the evening, the audience is led to believe that the events on stage are just part of some mystical destiny (occult symbolism is literally imbedded into the stage floor).

As for Ethan, when I could hear or understand him, was - well - adequate. His hoarse, unsupported voice and mushy diction thwarted his attempt at lending any strength or gravitas to his characterization. And with a strong and gorgeous Lady (Ann-Marie Duff) at his side, Hawke's Macbeth just comes off as a wimpy, spoiled man-child. Hawke did improve in bearing and strength (still raspy and hoarse, though) by the last hour of the play, but it was too little too late.

The rest of the supporting cast is strong, but all seemed to be in different productions of the same play. Acting styles were wildly inconsistent across the board.

This production would make a gorgeous glossy coffee table book.

Two Boys, One Disturbing Opera

Two Boys
Metropolitan Opera
Saturday, Nov 9, 8PM

So I finally made it over to Lincoln Center for my first opera of the 2013-14 season, the American premier of Nico Muhly’s, Two Boys, loosely based on events surrounding a 2001 murder in Manchester, England.

First off, I gotta’ give the Met credit for trying to lure the young’ens into the opera house.  It was positively Twilight Zone-ish seeing those hallowed, red-carpeted staircases (usually overrun by gray-haired socialites and frumpy opera queens - moi included!) swarming with nattily dressed 20 and 30-somethings. 

Obviously, the subject matter (a murder perpetrated through internet fraud with homo-erotic and pedophilic overtones) is the stuff our TMZ-obsessed youth go wild over.  But as the opera unfolded, it occurred to me that this type of techno-identity crime is just a natural progression from the masked sexual hijinks of a Figaro or Così.

More amusing to me was hearing opera singers belt out strings of profanity and modern sexual slang (examples: “he just blew me” “I told you, seven and a half inches”) with such glorious tone from the immense Met stage – not to mention simulated masturbation.  I’ll admit to suppressing an occasional giggle due to the SNL skit-like anachronism of it all.

Though I enjoyed the performance as a whole and, for the most part, riveted by the bizarre intricacies of the story, I found much of the solo writing melodically unsatisfying.  The orchestrations are appropriately atmospheric and moody but too often sound like the soundtrack to an Alfred Hitchcock movie a la Philip Glass. This lack of variety in orchestral texture and musical tempi created a sometimes gorgeous hypnotic quality; but just as often lulled me into drowsiness.  But then again I’m a sucker for a big ole Puccini aria.

The full ensemble numbers, however, are just f*&cking gorgeous.  It’s in these interludes that Muhly’s gift for musical texture and harmony truly shines.  Instead of the obvious use of electronic sounds (cue "Axel F" from Beverly Hills Cop.  Anyone, anyone?  Bueller, Bueller?) to signify online chatter, Muhly uses overlapping choruses and purely acoustic instrumentation to create an almost undulating wall of sound that perfectly symbolizes the amorphous fluidity of cyberland.

Alice Coote has a warm blanket of a mezzo voice that you just want to wrap yourself up in.  She’s a great, natural actress onstage as well.

Paul Appleby had the daunting task of portraying a 15-year-old teen murderer and pretty impressively pulls off the physicality and mannerisms.  And though he’s only 30, his voice fills the Met’s barn of a theatre.  It will be interesting to see how the voice develops over the next decade or so.

A boy soprano performed the role of the 12-year-old victim which definitely upped the ick factor in some of the bedroom scenes.  But not to worry, nothing was actually simulated onstage, just a lot of innuendo and awkward intimacy.

It was nice to see the Met step into this century with the tasteful use of projections to enhance the bare, minimalist set and staging.  

The choreography was interesting, if a bit bizarre.  I mean, I get it.  Ballet wouldn't exactly be appropriate, but the jerky movement felt a tad Spring Awakening-y to me.

Addendum 11/25:  I totally failed to mention that the young boy soprano, Andrew Pulver, is a Pineda Lyric Opera Young Artist and was a featured soloist in our recent production of The Magic Flute.  Congratulations, Andrew!  And pat on the back to Pineda Conservatory.

Fun Home

Fun Home
Public Theatre
Sunday, Nov 3, 3PM

I can't believe it's been nearly a month since I last enjoyed a live theatre performance.  Sure, I get plenty of show biz pizzaz during my workouts at Mark Fisher Fitness, but even buff trainers in red bikini briefs and top hats can't replace this theatre queen's need to hear a Broadway diva belt out a show tune live.

What, pray tell, could possibly counteract the elevated testosterone levels coursing through my body from three weeks of deadlifting and split squatting?  Why, an old fashioned, downtown lesbian musical, of course!

As my close friends know, I love any entertainment mode that can move me to tears - preferably a really good ugly cry.  I consider these moments therapy, since my limited budget doesn't allow me the conventional office and couch setting needed to heal my undoubtedly damaged psyche.  But that's a topic for another post.

Earlier in the week I had bumped into friend and Playbill reporter, Michael Gioia, and actor, George Salazar, on the N train (on my way to a work out, no less, and on their way to a matinee of Spider-Man - don't judge, they were seeing a friend who was going into the show that day).  They assured me that Fun Home would fulfill all my ugly crying needs.

Perhaps my expectations were set too high (aside from my friend's recommendation, the show has garnered across-the-board rave reveiws).  Or perhaps I was just too physically tired and emotionally drained from weeks of heavy exercise and food depravation.  Whatever the reason, I found myself disappointingly dry-eyed by the end of the performance.

Not that I wasn't moved.  The show is beautifully written and acted with a sincerity and uncloying earnestness rarely seen on uptown stages.  And the score is probably Tesori's best since Violet (which, incidentally is being revived on Broadway next year with Sutton Foster. Yay!).  It feels and sounds contemporary, but without the familiar pseudo-pop/rock/folk sound that Jason Robert Brown does so well and that seemingly every theatre composer under the age of 40 tries to duplicate (most, unsuccessfully).

I did come close to having a Kleenex moment during my favorite songs of the show.  After having her first sexual experience with a women, the main character, Alison (played by three different actresses at different ages), sings unabashedly about how she could happily spend the rest of her life in bed with this woman who took her heart (and virginity).  I was smiling so hard my cheeks ached and I had to hold back tears of joy over this awkward teenager's moment of self discovery.  Or maybe I was too closely identifying with the denial and confusion I experienced in my own awkward youth.  Again, a topic for another day, or more appropriately, a therapist's couch.

The three characters playing Alison are all sensational.  Though I definitely now have a show boner for Alexandra Socha's geeky, sexually-confused college-aged Alison.  I just wanted to run up on stage and give her a big hug and tell her everything was going to be OK.

And Hallelujah!  Judy Kuhn finally gets to show off her soprano voice again.  The theatre dork in me still thinks lovingly of my first Broadway show, Les Miserables, and jizzing over Ms. Kuhn's floated high C.  You never forget your first time.  As put-upon wife, Kuhn's character could have easily come off as an annoying bitch.  But Kuhn lends a humanity and vulnerability to the character's seemingly cold facade.

Michael Cerveris is, as usual, giving a flawless performance of yet another oddball outsider.  He seems to be Broadway's go-to guy to play creepers who look like they might molest your child.

And I have to give a great big "thank you" to an old college friend, Margie Kotler Hinsdale (whose super talented and adorable son happens to be in the cast).  She was able to hook me up with a discount code for a great seat at the last minute.

Merrily at the Movies

What marketing genius planned the digital, one-night-only theatrical showing of Stephen Sondheim and George Furth's flawed but beloved musical Merrily We Roll Along to coincide with the first game of the World Series?  And yes, this sports-phobic gay man actually knew that yesterday was the first game of the World Series.  But only because - full disclosure - I had to try and find someone a hotel room in Boston last night.

So anyone not interested in the game - that would be most wives, girlfriends and nerdy gay dudes (moi) - had the perfect entertainment alternative.  That fact alone probably accounts for the sold out showings in every NYC theatre.  Flaming theatre queen (and nerd) that I am, I purchased my tickets weeks ago and invited my friend Dan, another Merrily junkie, to join me.  This was the first Fathom Events showing I've attended, so I was excited to see if the movie theatre format would stand up to a live performance.

Merrily has always been one of those shows that critics have shit on but that Sondheim disciples like myself will defend to the death because of that fantastic score.  Admittedly, it was great to see yet another version of the oft revised book, but ultimately this production left me cold and (I can't believe I'm admitting this - sorry, Mr. Sondheim) a bit sleepy.  Not that there weren't some truly thrilling moments ("Old Friends," "Opening Doors," "Our Time," "Not a Day Goes By"), but for the most part, the rest of the show played like a Mexican telanovela, granted a very sophisticated one.

For me, the acting sometimes felt forced and just a tad over-the-top (i.e. Jenna Russell's Mary in the opening scene, though I quite enjoyed her second act).  Perhaps a result of theatrical performances being magnified and projected in close-up, twenty-feet high on a movie screen?

Mark Umbers' Franklin Shepard was charming and likable and created an unusually sympathetic take on what is often considered the villain of the piece.  He has a pleasant enough singing voice, but his hunched physicality and high-pitched speaking voice in the second act (to signify a more insecure, youthful Franklin) seemed a bit too obvious and completely unnecessary.  He can shrug his shoulders all he wants, but Umbers is just way to attractive to make anyone believe that he was at any time an insecure nerd.

Damian Humbley's performance as nebbish Charlie was a bit one note, though I very much enjoyed his less manic take on "Franklin Shepard Inc."  Humbley's Charlie didn't really seem to take much of a journey, though perhaps that's more a fault of the writing (and/or direction) than the acting.

The ensemble was competent enough, though their main function in this production was to spin the on-stage piano around and strike furniture from the stage.  And the costumes, especially for the 60s era, were just plain hideous.  Did the designer purposely try to make everyone look washed out and clunky in a color palate of black on beige on brown?  And poor Jenna Russell.  I could have cried every time she stepped on stage in yet another brown muumuu.

And why did everyone seem to become more youthful (the play moves backward in time) over the course of the play except for Charlie?  Did he really only own one pair of glasses over 20 years?

This production was hailed by critics and was a huge hit in London, but quite frankly, I don't get the hype.  The less than enthusiastic audience in my theatre seemed to tolerate the evening rather than truly enjoy themselves.  And I doubt the movie theatre format had anything to do with the chilly response.  Plenty of people were hooting, hollering and clapping during the Les Mis movie.  Though I did see a showing in Jersey, so scratch that.

Or maybe it was just the annoying queen seated behind us who could not stop commenting and loudly sighing to ensure that everyone was painfully aware of how miserable he was and how much he hated Merrily.  Why would you pay for a ticket to a movie of a musical you hate?  

To be fair, I should probably place some of the blame on the movie director.  All those quick cuts and close-ups actually lessened the impact of several scenes.  One glaring example of bad editing was during Beth and Frank's wedding scene.  The movie director never panned back to show that Mary was singing about/to Frank.  I know it's sort of obvious in context, but I think the constant cuts back-and-forth between Mary and Beth actually diluted the impact of the scene and song.  We never got the visual of happy Beth and miserable Mary both singing to Frank at the same time.

And what was up with the 30-minute "making of" video shown directly before the performance?  I do not need random audience members in a theatre lobby telling me how awesome the production is.  You're preaching to the choir, gurl.  I mean, seriously, no one is buying a ticket to Merrily because Captain Phillips is sold out.  And why would you show extended excerpts from a performance we're just about to watch?  Talk about spoilers.

Big Fish on Broadway - Sink or Swim?

Big Fish

Neil Simon Theatre

Saturday, Sept 7 @ 8pm

Another movie-to-musical adaptation?  I guess we should just get used to it since the trend won’t be abating anytime soon.  Not that I necessarily mind.  But the recent crop of adaptations seems to be a lame attempt by studios to make some quick cash from their old catalogs.  Just shoe-horn a mediocre score into an existing plot, keep the familiar title (albeit with the requisite “ - The Musical” suffix), market it to the brand-happy masses and voilà – instant Broadway hit.

At least Broadway’s newest film-to-stage project - or more accurately novel-to-film-to-stage project - Big Fish, aspires to more than just rehashing the movie and plugging in couple of show tunes.  With it's fantasy sequences and heart-on-sleeve emotions, the movie lends itself perfectly to characters suddenly breaking into song.  The creative team (with original screenplay writer, John August, penning the book) has retained the major plot points, but understandably streamlined the movie’s meandering story. 

Take note that tonight was only the fourth preview performance, so who knows what changes might happen between now and opening night.

Andrew Lippa’s score is surprisingly traditional.  It's got just a tinge of country and blues interspersed with several lush, heart-string-pulling ballads, vaguely reminiscent of another ballad-heavy Lippa score (one of my favorites), jon & jen.  You'd never guess this was from the same composer of The Addams Family, a show I actually enjoyed despite its workmanlike score.

The nostalgic wistfulness of "Time Stops" and earnest sweetness of "Daffodils" will leave romantics sniffling and cynics gagging (I'm in the former camp).

The always reliable Norbert Leo Butz (Edward Bloom) can prepare himself for yet another Tony nomination.  Though his quirky everyman shtick feels familiar, he has a unique gift for getting an audience to root for potentially unlikeable characters.  His performance here is appropriately showy but also unusually grounded, which helps smooth out some of the clunky transitions (mainly the fault of the direction, but more on that later) back-and-forth between the older and younger versions of his character.  

And why isn’t Kate Baldwin (Sandra Bloom) a big star?  That silky, clear soprano makes you yearn for the good old days when leading ladies didn't have to belt (i.e. screech) constant high F's or out-riff each other to impress.  Her 11-o-clock number, "I Don't Need a Roof," very nearly stopped the show - not to mention turning both Trish and I into blubbering piles of jelly.  And she looks gorgeous in every one of William Ivey Long's period perfect gowns.

Pssst, Lincoln Center, Kelli O’Hara has plenty on her plate.  Why not throw The King and I revival over to Ms. Baldwin? 

Trish's Broadway boyfriend, Bobby Steggert (Will Bloom), makes the most of an underwritten role.  His character is a cipher, seeming only to exist in order to give Butz's character a reason to tell another one of his stories.  Uncharacteristically, Steggert seemed to be having some vocal issues at tonight's performance, especially in his upper register - though he's not helped being straddled with one of the score’s few misses, the lyrically clunky “Stranger.”  

Julian Crouch’s scenic design is imaginative and appropriately fantastical.  He scores with a string of visually stunning moments.  Projections are a huge part of the design aesthetic and provide a cinematic feel and scale to the production.  Though beautiful, they sometimes feel like a cop out, used as a substitute for good old fashioned stage craft.  WWJTD - What would Julie Taymor do?

Susan Stroman’s direction/choreography is hit-or-miss. Sometimes it’s thrilling (the swamp trees) and sometimes it’s muddled and unfocused (the USO number).  It also appears she’s never ventured up into the mezzanine (where more than half the audience is seated) as much of the staging seems best viewed from the orchestra.  At times, too, the stage seemed rather sparsely populated.  It's surely a cost issue, but the look of the show would benefit from two or three more ensemble members.

Considering the events onstage have some personal resonance for Trish and I, we may have perhaps been more easily overcome by the charms of the musical than others.  Though I did notice a fair amount of tissue-passing going on around us.

Despite my reservations, I’m optimistic about Big Fish.  It’s a well-crafted, big, family musical that doesn’t pander to lowest common denominator with a lovely, original score and great performances.  It needs some tightening up and a snip here or there, but I’ll be back after opening to check it out again.

Straight men, be warned.  This is definitely the musical equivalent of a chick flick.

Don't forget to bring tissues.

Grand Canyon or bust...

<< Sunday, September 1 >>

With my list of spots-to-visit-before-I-die growing endlessly longer and my time on earth dwindling away faster than Miley Cyrus' integrity, I decided to book Trish and I on a very expensive one-day trip to the Grand Canyon via small charter jet. Let's be real, I'll probably never have the time, opportunity or finances to plan a separate trip anytime soon.

With iPhone cameras in hand, we heeded our 6am wake-up call and groggily headed downstairs for the shuttle transfer out to a private desert air field for the 40-minute flight to one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World (I'll have now seen two - the harbor in Rio being the first).

We checked in and waited patiently for our group to be called for boarding. After about an hour, the waiting room stood painfully empty save me, Trish and an anxious handful of tourists. I was called back up to the check-in counter.

I'm sorry, due to technical difficulty with the aircraft, we've had to cancel your tour for the day.

Huh? My once-in-a-lifetime trip is canceled?

We can reschedule you for tomorrow morning.

Phew, disaster diverted. Sadly, a few foreign tourists didn't have the luxury of an additional day for a reschedule. And though my linguistic skills are limited to English and a spattering of Tagalog curse words, I could tell there were some mighty angry foreign profanities being hurled around that waiting room.

Disappointed and sleepy, we joined a bunch of pissed of tourists on a shuttle bus back to Vegas.

Determined to salvage the rest of our day, Trish and I made a beeline for the TI coffee shop for a gluttonous All-American breakfast of pancakes, ham steak and home fries. If I wasn't going to see the Grand Canyon today, I'd at least have a Grand Breakfast.

And that was just the beginning of our Sunday food orgy...

In a decidedly unhealthy attempt to eat our feelings of disappointment, we lucked out and snagged a last-minute reservation to the ultra-chic, very snooty, high end Sunday brunch at the Mandarin Oriental's Mozen Bistro. Yes, the above is in fact the buffet's all you can eat oyster, shrimp and crab claw bar. The buffet also boasts a noodle and ramen bar, made-to-order sushi bar, dessert bar, carving station and dozens of other random high end choices. Oh, and you also get to choose a supplemental menu entree with your meal. Best of all, unlike most of the other high volume buffets, the price point and limited seating ensures you're not fighting the huddled masses for that last claw.

We decided to walk off some of the day's calories by hoofing it on the strip. Unfortunately, summer in Vegas isn't exactly amenable to daytime hiking. We instead hit one of the many discount ticket booths and on recommendation from our friend, Chris, got tickets to Jubilee! at Bally's.

If you're looking for a dazzling evening of fine singing and stunning choreography, be sure not to miss Jubilee! said no one ever.

If you're looking for a cheesy display of silicone-enhanced boobs accompanied by the gayest, most mediocre chorus boys in Vegas, and boobs - did I mention boobs? Get your tickets to Jubilee! immediately.

Even though I shall never re-gain those precious 90 minutes of my life wasted at Jubilee!, the night wasn't a complete bust. Trish and I lazily wended our way back to the hotel in the comfortable desert evening enjoying the sights of Vegas at night.

I'll admit, I'm probably being a tad harsh on Jubilee!, but it has a review average of 4 stars on Tripadvisor.com. I mean, come on. It's at best a 2-star affair, and that's for the costumes and novelty of all those topless dancers. Trust me, after about 10 minutes you realize you're in for a long, tedious evening of cliched skits that were probably only vaguely sexy in the 1970s when they were likely created and staged. The only reason to sit through this mess is to see the rather spectacular contortionist couple. Bitter, party of one, check please!

We finally make it to the Grand Canyon...

Here Lies Love - Imelda's MTV moment

Public Theatre

Saturday, July 6 @ 5pm

First off, I have to congratulate my homegirl, Jaygee, for tearing it up as Imelda Marcos at today’s performance of Here Lies Love.  I met Jaygee back in 2001 at the now defunct Seaside Music Theater in Daytona Beach, FL, where she shot and killed me nightly in their production of Miss Saigon.  Ah, the memories.

Smacking the shit out of Jaygee in Miss Saigon.

Following the recent NYC trend of immersive/environmental stagings (Sleep No More, Great Comet of 1812, Murder Ballad et al), the Public transforms one of their theatres into a dance club where moveable stages and platforms surround the standing audience.  The actors move among, around and above the audience/party-goers, as they dramatize the milestones in the Filipino first lady’s life.  And of course, with a score by David Byrne and Fatboy Slim, it’s all set to a thumping dance beat.

It’s all pretty trippy.  You’re led up stairs to the performance venue as the hall fills with hazy smoke.  You emerge into a cavernous, neon lit room where elector-dance music is blaring and ushers in orange jumpsuits dance and guide you to fill in the space.

With the wild lighting, driving bass and techno drum beats, hypnotic music, hip hop choreography, quick cutting scenes and video projections, it feels like a Willy Wonky-type acid trip through Imelda Marcos’ scrapbook.  It’s a sensory overload that is thrilling for the first hour or so, but does get a tad tiresome as you feel your calf muscles start tightening up from standing.  But it's worth that extra effort to reach the emotionally satisfying last 10 minutes of this intermissionless show.

We've obviously made-up.  After the show at the Public.

I usually hate any type of audience interaction/participation (see my review of Hair) since I really feel like I’m paying you to entertain me and not the other way around.  But I didn’t really mind it here since the participation seems so intrinsic to the staging of the show.  

One of my personal show highlights didn’t even happen on stage, but in the audience.  At one point in the evening, the show’s DJ leads the audience in a great Filipino cultural tradition – the line dance.   An older gentlemen refused to participate and stood right up front with his arms firmly crossed, scowling at the rest of the audience who happily danced along.  Gramps was not having it.

There were also a couple of folks who succumbed to the heat.  Hey, Public Theatre, if you’re gonna’ sardine can an audience into a big ole box and force them to dance around, at least crank up the AC!

But let me get back to the crazy, eclectic audienct.  Aside from grumpy old guy, there were gay club kids, several middle-aged bear types, lots of hipsters and many drunk, white, twenty-something posers who probably read on gawker that this was the “hot new thing” but had no actual interest in the show (as demonstrated by their constant need to check their smartphones).  Oh, and Asians.  Lots of Asians.

I heard some complaints that the show is light on content and heavy on flash, but I think that's the point.  The subject matter dictates the form.  And in this case, art imitates life.

Vanya and Sonia et al - the Broadway invasion of the topless hunk continues...

Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike
Golden Theatre
Wed, June 12 @ 8PM

What is up with all the waxed pecs and six-packs on display on the Great White Way this season?  Picnic, Pippin, Chicago, The Nance, The Performers, Breakfast At Tiffany's, Cat On a Hot Tin Roof, Golden Boy - just to name a few.  I haven't seen so many buff dudes displaying their wares in midtown since the Gaiety Theatre closed its dingy doors a decade ago.  Ah, the memories.  Not that I'm complaining.  I mean, if they could throw in some hunky, half naked man candy into Lucky Guy I'd definitely reconsider buying a ticket.

For all you respectable folk, there is plenty to enjoy in Vanya besides the half naked Billy Magnussen (though he is a bonus).  Vanya is the rare comedy written with intelligence and warmth that doesn't pander to its audience.  When was the last time you heard Chekhov quoted as a punchline?  The genius of Durang's writing is that even if you don't get all the references, it's still non-stop, laugh-out-loud funny.

The play focuses on aging siblings Vanya (a droll and adorable David Hyde Pierce) and Sonia (face contortionist Kristine Nielsen).  Both still single and living together in the family's rural home, they have let time and technology pass them by while their glamorous sister, Masha (Sigourney Weaver) has traveled the world as a famous actress.  When Masha returns for a visit with dippy boy toy Spike in tow, family resentments resurface and generation gaps widen.

Pierce and Nielsen, both comic geniuses, get to show off their serious acting chops with long, juicy monologues in the second act.  Nielsen is particularly moving in a self-depracating phone call with a possible suitor.  Pierce gets to let loose in a wild tirade against the isolating power of technology.  Weaver, though clearly having a ball, seems a bit stiff and vocally underpowered in comparison.

Magnussen's gender-reversed blond bimbo just can't seem to keep his clothes on.  His reverse strip tease is worth the price of admission, as is Nielsen's horrified reaction to it.  Shalita Grant is wickedly funny as the no-nonsense housekeeper/oracle.  Liesel Allen Yeager channels a young Alicia Siverstone a la "Clueless" (in a good way) as a starstruck wannabe actress.

Though fresh off Christopher Durang's Tony win for Best Play, Trish and I still managed to snag 30% discounted rear orchestra seats at the "half price" booth earlier that afternoon.  I'm hoping to pay a return visit when Julie White replaces Weaver later this summer.  She should be a good match for Nielsen and Pierce's brand of quirky humor.

With the small cast requirements and unit set, get ready to see Vanya invade the regional and summer stock theatres next year.

Into The Woods at McCarter

Into The Woods
Fiasco Theater Company @ McCarter Theater
Sunday, May 26, 7PM

It's been a couple of weeks and my memory ain't what it used to be, but I think I can muster up enough coherent thoughts on this extraordinary production to write a review.

As I posted previously, Fiasco's stripped-down production is pretty much perfection.  It's creative, surprising and moving in ways that I don't necessarily associate with Into The Woods.  Most productions seem to emulate (i.e. copy) the well-known original Broadway production's lavish design and feel or else ignore the material's dark undercurrents in favor of twee preciousness.

This production takes place on a bare stage decorated with discarded piano parts and strewn with dusty old relics you might find in grannie's attic.  But in the whimsical hands of the cast and with a little imagination, these garage sale finds transform into trees, towers and birds.

The upside to this stripped-down approach is that it focuses our attention on Sondheim's pithy lyrics that expound on complex themes of family and responsibility.  I'm very familiar with the show, having directed it as well as been forced to sit through many a tedious production, and Fiasco has managed to make the scenes and songs seem fresh and the quick, dense lyrics intelligible to my jaded ears.

The cast of 10 (I'd actually include pianist, Matt Castle - who, incidentally, I replaced in a show many, many moons ago - as an 11th cast member) play all the roles, creating some hilarious doubling opportunities.  Some even do triple duty, supplementing Castle's piano accompaniment by playing random instruments scattered about the stage.

It seems redundant for me to continue my review considering Brantley's capture my thoughts so well in his review in the New York Times.  So I'll just list some of my favorite moments and leave the critical dissection to the pros.

• Double casting the princes as Florinda and Lucinda.
• Using shadows to represent the Giant's murder.
• Having the entire female ensemble speak/sing the role of Cinderella's mother.
• Creating a communal feel by eliminating the narrator and distributing his lines to the cast so that it seems like a group of storytellers re-enacting the events for us rather than us just watching a play.
• Re-orchestrating the music for Jack's mother to give her character a more folk/country feel.
• Andy Grotelueshen's comedic use of a cowbell as Milky White.
• Staging "On the Steps of the Palace" as if Cinderella were actually stuck on the steps.

Sure, the singing voices aren't always optimal, but the trade off is an emotional clarity and depth that, in this case, transcends a perfect belt.  Though I won't lie, I would sell my left nut to hear Carolee's "Last Midnight."  A girl can dream.

Pippin - so many ample bosoms...and that's just the men

Pippin

Music Box Theatre

Sunday, June 2, 3PM

I don't know what they're pumping into the vents at the Music Box Theatre, but from the audience reaction to the opening chords of "Magic To Do" you'd think we were at a monster truck rally in some swampy backwater town in Louisiana.  I know there's been lots of hype, and rightly so, surrounding Diane Paulus' circus-themed revival of the psychedelic 70s tuner.  But this afternoon's audience was whooping and hollering at a black curtain.  Or more likely, at $130 a ticket people have decided that they WILL have a good time in the theatre, no matter what, dammit!

With only a week until the Tonys and the show getting prime time play on every major talk show (it seems you can't change the channel without seeing Patina Miller's maniacal, toothy grin), I was frankly shocked to see the show available on TKTS, though only at 30% off (check out the nifty official smartphone app that shows real-time ticket availability).  So much for the days of "half-priced" tickets at the booth.  With a gift certificate from one of Trish's students subsidizing our little field trip, the price for two seats was almost affordable. 

Pippin has never been a favorite show of mine.  It's got a solid score with a couple of great Stephen Schwartz tunes but the clunky book is dated and gives off a kitschy 70s vibe that I'm sure can be traced to the consumption of too many mind-altering substances.  What made the original Pippin special was the iconic performance of Ben Vereen as the leading player and the genius of Bob Fosse's direction and choreography (both of which have luckily been captured on video).

Thankfully, Diane Paulus' newly re-imagined production breathes some new life into this 70s relic.  The circus theme is a perfect backdrop for Pippin's episodic book and for Patina Miller's demented ringmaster-on-crack leading player.  

The acrobatic and aerial work by Gypsy Snyder of Canadian circus troupe Les 8 doigts de la main keeps the stage in constant motion, adding an energy and momentum that is missing in the writing.  It also doesn't hurt to have the buff cast contort, leap and dance in an eye-popping array of flesh revealing costumes.

Broadway stalwart Terrence Mann adds a humanity, depth and humor to Charles, a character that usually comes off as a one dimensional cartoon.  Charlotte D'Amboise gives a solid, if workmanlike reading of the sexy Fastrada.  Andrea Martin (Berthe) practically steals (and stops) the show with her single, acrobatic scene.  I won't give spoilers, but Ms. Martin's performance will inspire grannies everywhere to start hitting the gym.  

Matthew James Thomas is an endearing Pippin with a lovely six pack (for those who care).  He lends the perfect balance of charm and innocence to a character that can often come off as a cipher.  His pretty pop tenor voice is perfect for the folksy score but he's got to watch the growling in his middle register or he won't have that pretty voice for long.  And did I mention his six pack?

I have mixed feelings about Patina Miller's leading player.  To say her performance is intense is like saying Michele Bachmann is quirky.  Subtle, Ms. Miller is not.  But it's clearly the choice she (and no doubt Paulus) has made for the character and Miller commits to it with an unbridled ferocity.  I don't necessarily agree with the choice, but I do respect the execution.  And besides, ain't nobody gonna' mess with Patina.  Have you seen those biceps?  

Chet Walker's choreography "in the style of Fosse" is by definition derivative.  But at least it's derivative of genius.  It doesn't re-invent Fosse as much as point out the current dearth of originality and artistry found on Broadway stages today.  Don't get me wrong, I don't think there's a lack of talent, only a lack of producers willing to take a chance on an unknown commodity.  Sigh. 

Regardless, you should catch the revival now with the original cast.  I can definitely see how this production, which relies heavily on the quirkiness and individuality of each cast member, may suffer once replacements start filtering into the production.