Woman Around Town’s Editor Charlene Giannetti and writers for the website talk with the women and men making news in New York, Washington, D.C., and other cities around the world. Thanks to Ian Herman for his wonderful piano introduction.
Comley University has some issues with its Drama Society. Tonight, there’s been a box office mix up and “we trust the 650 of you hoping to see Hamilton might enjoy our production as much.” Budget issues have necessitated shows such as Chekhov’s modified Two Sisters and, due to spoilage, James and The Peach, which further regressed to James, Where’s Your Peach? Last year, a casting issue determined the mounting of Snow White and The Seven Tall, Broad-Shouldered Gentlemen. We’re informed of the society’s vicissitudes by Chris Bean at this, his directorial “daboo.”
Fasten your seat belts, audience, this is going to be an hysterical ride.
When longtime butler, Perkins (Jonathan Sayer) and Thomas Colleymore (James Cordon lookalike Henry Lewis, who uses his body like a prop) walk around a wall (the door is stuck) to bring Charles Haversham (Greg Tannahill – picture the deadpan perfection of Simon Jones) back to his wedding rehearsal party, they discover him murdered. Cue lights; ominous chord! Thomas’s sister Sandra (Charlie Russell), fiancé of the deceased, and Inspector Carter (Henry Shields) are sent for.
Dave Hearn, Greg Tannahill, Henry Lewis, Charlie Russell
Sandra, however, can’t get in either and must recite “No! I can’t believe what I’ve seen!” at the window far from view, then clumsily climbing through. Cecil Haversham (Dave Hearn who resembles Bill Irwin both in appearance and style) is pushed through the door by momentarily exposed, thoroughly abashed, cast members and stage hands. Having made his way through a blizzard – cue the tossing of square-cut white tissue paper outside, the Inspector arrives.
Everyone needs a drink. Perkins takes a grinding, smoke spewing elevator to the second floor study (we see this as an open platform with furniture) and retrieves a full bottle of scotch when, according to dialogue, it should be empty. Thinking fast he pours its contents down the intercom which opens onto the stage below with a splash. There should be a full bottle, he’s told. Reaching elsewhere, he then raises an empty one to the audience. Outcome: the company finds itself repeatedly drinking Paint Thinner (and just as often spitting it out.) Vintage? “Flammable and Corrosive.”
Missing props are blatantly handed in. Others are substituted for on the spot. Looking for the Inspector’s pencil, Thomas finds only duly delivered keys. The requested notebook is replaced by a vase filled with roses. Carter gamely scratches keys against vase to write. Henry Shields has the young John Cleese’s public school persona gone wildly awry. He manages to be staunch patrician and hugely droll at the same time.
Authors: Henry Shields, Jonathan Sayer, Henry Lewis
When the mantel falls off, stagehand Annie (Bryony Corrigan) finds herself holding two candlesticks through the wall a la Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast. Later, she’s forced to take over for the knocked out actress who plays Sandra, red dress on top of her overalls, book in hand. At first, Annie’s like a deer in headlights, then palpably surprised at the ongoing plot, and finally, territorial. When the original Sandra revives in Act II, returning to the stage in her scanties, the two physically fight out every line. Corrigan is swell.
Charles’s body falls through a stretcher. Two poles are ceremoniously carried out empty as if they were not, while the corpse crawls and slithers his way out the now functional door, rising to dramatically cross hands over chest. Later, Cecil must find an alternative solution to being borne by the broken carrier.
Sandra is having a secret affair with Cecil – did they do it?!, but the actor is repulsed by the actress’s advances. During an eventual forced kiss, he looks like a boa constrictor trying to swallow her whole. This particular player must be new to “the drama society.” He thrills to applause, taking time to appreciate it, beaming, sometimes bowing or repeating an action. Dave Hearn is one of the great highlights of the production. He’s adorable, executes slapstick like a silent film pro, and responds with uproarious precision.
Dave Hearn, Charlie Russell
There’s another murder, a discovered will, and the appearance of a Head Gardener who may be involved (Hearn). Motivation abounds. Cues fall unanswered. Up in a visible stage box, Stage Manager Trevor (Rob Falconer) is more concerned with the loss of his Duran Duran tape than the production, though even he gets amusingly conscripted when two of the cast are stricken unconscious.
When Carter can’t find a mislaid ledger, frustration leads to actual whimpering. We see it under the chaise. An audience member, then several, helpfully call out its location out to the actor. (I’ll wager a month’s rent this occurs on the night you’re there.) Needless to say, he responds with fury at our not taking the play seriously.
The play within the play, though certainly broad satire, is sufficiently well written to hold attention. Focus is paramount and present. Company members each have their contributory strengths with only Charlie Russell and Jonathan Sayer relative disappointments.
Henry Lewis, Jonathan Sayer, Henry Shields, Dave Hearn
Every move is accompanied by perfectly timed freezes as the cast registers and/or endures one disaster after another. Expressions are priceless. I’ve seen several productions of Michael Frayn’s backstage piece, Noises Off, and I’m here to tell you this multiplies that play’s pandemonium by tenfold. Or more. Fights are beautifully choreographed, elaborate pratfalls and saves worthy of Chaplin and Keaton. Bravo Director Mark Bell.
Nigel Hook’s brilliant, elaborate, tawdry looking Set is engineered within an inch of company lives, like a Rube Goldberg mechanism. Roberto Surace’s Costumes are worthy of Agatha Christie.Sound Design by Andrew Johnson demands as much exactness as cascading scenery and comes through with flying colors.
The Play That Goes Wrong, is conceived and – lucky us – enacted, by three twenty-something, out of work, British actors who will stop appearing after the Broadway iteration. Already a long running West End hit, the farce has spawned a number of other, international productions. It’s easy to imagine the piece going viral with long lives everywhere people need to laugh. Go. It’s a tonic.
Photos by Jeremy Daniel
Opening: Jonathan Sayer, Henry Lewis, Dave Hearn, Charlie Russell (window), Greg Tannahill
The Mischief Theatre production of The Play That Goes Wrong “The Cornley University Drama Society presents Murder at Haversham Manor by Susie H. K. Brideswell” Directed by Mark Bell Written by Henry Shields, Henry Lewis, Jonathan Sayer Lyceum Theatre 149 West 45th Street
Lyricists Alan and Marilyn Bergman were both born out of the same Brooklyn hospital into Eastern European families. Despite neighborhood proximity, they didn’t meet until respectively landing in Los Angeles the 1950s. One might call this particular collaboration Kismet.
The married couple has been nominated for 16 Academy Awards garnering three. Their extensive oeuvre also includes, in part, iconic television themes, numbers written for television musicals, a jazz cycle, and widely varied songs popularized by everyone from Frank Sinatra to Barbra Streisand. The Bergmans never found their way to Broadway but tailored to characters in film (Yentl is a prime example) and when writing for a particular vocalist. “We knew enough about him to fit the lyric to his character time and time again,” Alan Bergman once commented about Frank Sinatra.
Today’s Special Guest is critic/biographer/librettist/playwright Terry Teachout. The inimitable David Lahm, Granat’s symbiotic accompanist furnishes eloquent piano.
Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman
Host Harvey Granat begins vocal choices with Alan Bergman/Lou Spence’s “That Face,” introduced by Fred Astaire, followed by the Sinatra hit “Nice N’ Easy” credited to Alan Bergman/Marilyn Keith/Lou Spence. Renditions are genial and dancey. Granat’s skilled nonchalance is similar to that of Sinatra. During the second number, he feeds us the lyrics. (The knowledgeable audience often knows songs by heart and are selectively encouraged to sing along.) Teachout suggests we don’t ordinarily think of the Bergmans for a swing tune.
Original placement of familiar songs is something of a revelation. 1967’s “Make Me Rainbows” (music – John Williams) is from what Teachout calls “a justifiably forgotten film” called Fitzwilly.” “If that had been written 10 years earlier,” he continues, “it would have become a standard.” The same year saw original English lyrics for “You Must Believe in Spring” (music – Michel Legrand) from French film The Young Girls of Rochefort: Beneath the deepest snows,/The secret of a rose/Is merely that it knows/You must believe in Spring! …Granat’s version is delicate, poetic, lovely. Teachout declares it the moment the Bergmans became themselves, “the great romantics of the late golden age of songwriting.”
From The Thomas Crown Affair we hear a wistful, resigned “The Windmills of Your Mind” for which composer Michel Legrand apparently wrote five or six melodies. The Bergmans suggested he go to a movie and they’d meet the next morning, whereupon the vote was unanimous. Teachout observes the song is effectively in a minor key “which American popular songs never are.” Lahm adds that the grammar is successfully out of phase with the melody, yet another example of iconoclastic skill.
It turns out that “What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?” (music – Michel Legrand) was written for an obscure 1969 film called The Happy Ending. Granat’s buttery version is rife with yearning. Teachout remarks that rhymes fall on the next to last words. This particular session of the Granat series is illuminated by more incisive music perceptions than usual due to this guest’s contribution.
In the same lush vein, “Summer Me, Winter Me” arrives with recognition that nouns have become verbs: Summer me, winter me/And with your kisses, morning me, evening me/And as the world slips far away, a star away/Forever me with love…Suddenly, magically/We found each other…Granat sings with surprise and excitement, not disturbing the tenor of the song. During “How Do You Keep the Music Playing?” with what Teachout calls “a great lyric for a soured relationship,” Granat appears to be reflecting in real time. (Both music – Michel Legrand)
In 1973, the Bergmans wrote “The Way We Were” (music – Marvin Hamlish). Though the group is invited to sing and clearly know the lyrics, its volume is extremely soft, in order, one suspects, to fully hear the vocalist’s interpretation.
When, as a little girl, Alan and Marilyn Bergman’s daughter was asked what her parents do, she responded “When my mommy and daddy wake up, they drink coffee, go into a room and close the door. Sometimes there’s music, sometimes not. And they get paid for it.” And aren’t we lucky?
I hear a great many vocalists. Not only are these sessions illuminating and fun, but Harvey Granat is one of our most authentic balladeers. Again, a good time is had by all.
Opening photo: Harvey Granat, Terry Teachout, David Lahm Bigstock Photo of Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman at the Grammy Foundation’s Starry Night Gala. University of Southern California, Los Angeles, CA. 07-12-08
Songs and Stories with Harvey Granat: Alan and Marilyn Bergman Special Guest Terry Teachout 92St.Y 92nd and Lexington Avenue Venue Web Site NEXT: May 4 On Dorothy Fields with Special Guest, Field’s son, musician David Lahm
Sunday night, Feinstein’s/54Below hosted a banquet of widely diverse selections from the work of collaborators Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty as honored by CCM otherwise known as the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music. Onstage talent was accomplished, represented oeuvre impressive and entertaining.
Our host tonight, impresario/director/vocalist Scott Coulter, graduated CCM in 1993. He’s stayed in touch and taught Master Classes at his alma mater. In honor of the school’s 25th New York Showcase for agents and casting directors, program head, Dr. Aubrey Berg, asked Coulter if he’d put together an evening celebrating its gifted alumni.
Coulter suggested a salute to Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty, the latter a CCM graduate. The pair were in beaming attendance. He then contacted alumni from the last 24 years drawing on a wealth of artists with Broadway credits. The early show ran like Swiss clockwork. (An entirely different one was presented at 9:30!)
Scott Coulter, Jessica Boevers Bogart
After Coulter’s charmingly besotted story about being roundly affected by the original 1990 production of Once On This Island (a Broadway revival is in development), we open with a vivacious “Journey To the Past” (Anastasia) as sung by Lexie Dorsett-Sharp, Carlyn Connolly, and Coulter. The three polished voices blend splendidly. Harmony is very fine.
“Times Like These” …a girl could use a dog… (Lucky Stiff) is delightfully rendered by Jessica Boevers Bogart who slips into character like a well fitting, zipperless dress. Bogart is sympathetic, delivers low key as effectively as soaring, and possesses comic timing. Kathryn Boswell’s “Under the Bridge,” (Anastasia- imminently opening on Broadway) demonstrates great skill in knowing what to restrain and when to let fly. Watch out Kelli O’Hara.
Kathryn Boswell, Victoria Cook
On stage, Max Chernin presents a stirring, character-credble “The Night That Goldman Spoke” (Ragtime), while from the bar area Lexie Dorsett-Sharp responds as Emma Goldman with round tones and powerful conviction. Both make the number come vibrantly alive. Also from Ragtime, we hear “Raining” as performed by Victoria Cook whose palpable pain, theatrical finesse, and every-woman persona lands a bull’s-eye.
The class of 2017, in New York for its program’s annual showcase, let loose with specially written lyrics for “I Was There” (Glorious Ones), an immensely moving anthem about why artists opt for hardscrabble life in the theater. Youthful hope and deep love of craft shone. Professor Berg spoke briefly, proudly surrounded by shepherded talent. CCM seems a hotbed of burgeoning aptitude.
Max Chernin, Lexie Dorsett-Sharp
Also Featured: Alysha Deslorieux’s big beautiful “Waiting For Life” which starts in character, but careens to simply grand vocal (Once On This Island); Preston Boyd’s uneven “Some Girls” (Once On This Island); Danette Holden’s “Back to Before” (Ragtime) evidencing superb control, pith, and range; John Riddle’s “Streets of Dublin” (A Man of No Importance), which displays his remarkable instrument, but interprets feeling as volume (gorgeous melody); Eric Sciotto’s low key lullaby rendition of “Solla Sollew” (Seussical); Mia Gentile’s “Notice Me Horton” (Seussical) with deft comic timing, but again, growing too big for the lyric.
Justin Patterson’s “Love Who You Love” (A Man of No Importance) is adroitly understated and direct (lovely cello); Sally Ann Tumas’s “Goodbye My Love” (Ragtime) reveals highly trained vocal subtlety; DeMone Seraphin starts “Make Them Hear You”, a tirade about injustice, with his hand in his pocket, killing the mood (lush, undulating piano); Alexa Green’s “Come Down from the Tree” (Once On This Island) is self conscious about sound, losing lyrical meaning.
Shoshana Bean offers an infectiously joyous “Mama Will Provide” (Ragtime); Jason Rieff’s “Human Heart” (Once On This Island) dramatically closes the show with backup by the company: The courage of a dreamer/The innocence of youth/The failures and the foolishness/That lead us to the truth…
I was fortunate enough to be among those in the BMI Musical Theater Workshop with Lynn and Steve and watched them become a team. It seemed like Kismet from the get-go. The multifaceted lyricist and composer have been collaborators for 30 years authoring accessible songs without losing specificity. They write smart, wry, exceptionally moving numbers and are, by the way, lovely people.
This is a worthy tribute.
Music Director/Pianist Ryan Shirar, Jacob Yates-Cello, Blake Allen-Viola- Yates and Allen CMM grads. Richard Oberacker, whose musical Bandstand is previewing on Broadway, sat in as pianist for one number.
Photos by Steve Friedman Opening: Stephen Flaherty & Lynn Ahrens
Musicals Tonight’s 95th revival, Du Barry Was a Lady, is its 14th Cole Porter Show. The 1940 meringue-weight musical ran 408 performances starring Ethel Merman, Bert Lahr and Betty Grable in her Broadway Debut. There are three or four familiar songs including “Friendship,” later used in Call Me Madam and “Well, Did You Evah!?” that would highlight High Society. The book is sheer ba-dump-dump pastiche.
Peyton Crim and Jennifer Evans; Jennifer Evans and Payton Crim
Sweet, rather dull Louis Blore (Peyton Crim), formerly a men’s room attendant, has won a sweepstakes of $75,000. Sizable rock in hand, he proposes to club vocalist, May (Jennifer Evans). She, in turn, is fixed on handsome columnist Alex (Patrick Oliver Jones- curiously unromantic) whose sister Alice (Katherine McLaughlin) works with her. Other nightspot denizens include Alice’s beau Harry (Tim McGarrigal), club owner Bill Kelly (able, rubber-faced Richard Rowan), and mercenary Cigarette/ Hatcheck girl Vi (Lily Tobin, overtly channeling Ruth Gordon through Betty Boop.)
Tim McGarrigle and Katherine McLaughlin
Direct from the clink, new employee Charlie (Ernie Pruneda), mistakenly slips Louis a Micky Finn (drop-out drug) intended to keep Alex from a date with May. Having just seen the Red Skelton/Lucille Ball film Du Barry Was a Lady, Louis dreams he’s King Louis XV. Everyone shows up in period garb.
May becomes Du Barry holding off her Sire with faux Mae West tone: “I know you want me. I can read you like a book, but you don’t have to use the Braille System.” Meanwhile she’s hot for and hiding a period version of Alex. Farce ensues. Louis develops a clearer take on the life to which he awakens after Versailles, loses or gives away almost all his windfall, yet remains upbeat. Of course.
Patrick Oliver Jones and Jennifer Evans
A contemporary production of Du Barry depends on its director and performers to make froth sit well. In order to bring this off, actors must “play it straight” i.e. appear to an audience as if characters know no better and speak in natural syntax. While a little wink/wink mugging may fly, this particular version, particularly its foray into ersatz history, is self consciously broad to the extreme. (Director Evan Pappas)
Richard Rowan and Payton Crim
Still, the piece has its rewards. Peyton Crim makes a swell Louis, with royal embodiment mostly skirting over-the-top rather than toppling. He’s credibly big-hearted, obtusely hopeful, deftly clumsy, and fluently delivers Porter’s iconoclastic phrasing. Tim McGarrigle (Harry) shows agreeable aspects of Donald O’Connor and Peter Sellers. His nifty, exaggerated French accent echoes Lumiere, the animated candlestick of Beauty and The Beast.
Both Jennifer Evans and Katherine McLaughlin have good voices and dance well. Both, however, overplay. Evans looks to the audience rather than interacting with fellow characters, doing best in duets with Crim who seems to focus his partner with naturalness. McLaughlin, alas, is additionally saddled with the ugly handicap of chewing gum?!
Evan Pappas’s Choreography is lively and cute with subtle awareness of limited space. Use of that space, especially employing back-up girls/ boys, is visually appealing.
Vocal Arrangements are very fine.
A painted backdrop and rose trellis that flips to become a bed, work to add color and fantasy.
Long legged Chorus Girls: Elizabeth Flanagan, Ashley Griffin, Tina Scariano
Chorus Boys: Mark Bacon, Jamil Chokachi, Colin Israel, Evan Maltby
The venerable Musicals Tonight has completed another season, sharing productions of shows otherwise rarely (if at all) available to audiences. It continues to provide a worthy and appreciated platform.
Photos: Opening – The Company
Musicals Tonight! presents Du Barry Was a Lady
Music & Lyrics by Cole Porter
Libretto by Herbert Fields & BG DeSylva
Directed & Choreographed by Evan Pappas
Music Director/Vocal Arranger- James Stenborg
Through April 9, 2017 The Lion Theatre
410 West 42nd Street
Attending Michael Weller’s 1988 Loose Ends is like time travel. The playwright’s depiction of 1970s disaffected youth, an idealistic Peace Corps, good natured, soft drug use, living off the land, free love, and cheap travel is immensely evocative without being entirely one sided. We see aspiration toward and achievement of traditional lifestyles side by side with utter self indulgence, references to “selling out,” and dog tags. (Sound Designer Andy Evan Cohen contributes just the right music.)
Somewhat straight-laced Paul (Loren Bidner) and free spirited Susan (Sarah Mae Vink) are cavorting on a beach in Bali. (A discreet sheet is at one point abandoned.) He’s just out of the Core (an illuminating anecdote says it all), she’s aimlessly exploring. They would stay together were it not for a private school teaching job he’s secured back home.
Melanie Glancy, Sarah Mae Vink, and Loren Bidner
For nine years we follow the couple as they separate, come together, commute, cohabit, eventually marry, find respective personal arts, build careers, repeatedly relocate, split, and bed one another…Dates appear on a screen also utilized to project environs.
Orbiting the pair while going through their own changes are: pothead builder, army veteran Doug (Erik Endsley), and his mate, earth mother Maraya (Maggie Alexander); Susan’s old friend, ditsy, irritating Janice (Melanie Glancy), first with spacey, ashram assistant Russell (Ivan Sandomire), and then city planner Phil (Gregory Barone); Paul’s film editing partner Selina (Hui-Shan Yong), and his overachieving brother Ben (Jason Asher).
Sarah Mae Vink and Hui-Shan Yong
For reasons perhaps known only by Weller, Susan stays with or returns to Paul, endlessly pulling him up by his bootstraps, despite his being thoughtless, self centered, whiny, and volatile. Charisma and/or redeeming attributes are, if present, well masked. It’s difficult to sit through a 2 ½ hour play disliking the protagonist. Nor does it help that Loren Bidner delivers a one note portrayal of the exasperating young man.
Unfortunately, he’s not alone. I’ve seen some first rate productions at T. Schreiber. This one is not well cast. Sarah Mae Vink is clearly speaking English as a second language. The peek-a-boo accent manifests inappropriate effort and makes her less American. Like Bidner, though with parenthetic exceptions, she appears to be all surface. I can’t help but wonder whether the young actors have any sense of what the 70s were like.
Sarah Mae Vink and Loren Bidner
Among the rest of this large cast, three and a half actors work with particular authenticity: Teruaki Akai, in the very small role of a Balinese Fisherman, is credible and sweet.
Erik Endsley’s speedy, stoned, robust Doug is appealingly familiar from loosey goosey, Big-Bird-physicality to unregulated volume.
Jason Asher is so real he could walk out of the theater in his role. Every gesture, tone, and reaction are inherently Ben.
Hui-Shan Young’s Selina comes alive in a discussion with Susan about pregnancy.
These actors visibly think before they speak as well as when they’re silent.
Terry Schreiber’s Direction is uneven. The stage is used effectively, small business enhances, pacing is good. Maraya follows giving Doug the finger with a puckered kiss and later knots his necktie on herself before putting it around his neck – great. Susan and Paul are physically good with one another.
On the other hand, Maraya handles her babies as if they were dolls, especially vis-à-vis breast feeding and jerking tiny arms up to wave. Several actors lose focus almost every time they turn towards the audience. None of the champagne bottles pop. There’s no reason Gus Solomons Jr. has to be cliché-limp-wristed as Susan’s flamboyant boss. Many of the actors don’t listen to one another.
George Allison’s Set Design is cleverly constructed from large, cut-out, cardboard photos. Susan’s photographic montage (you can look at intermission) cleverly embeds images of the actors in character. Projections clash with the cut-outs.
Clarissa Marie-Ligan’s Ming Dynasty horse is perfect. (Properties)
Costumes by Hope Governali are almost all cheap looking and unflattering. As several characters grow well heeled, this doesn’t jell. One understands cost limitations, but …
While Loose Ends rings true to its era, why a revival now? In the last weeks, I’ve seen pieces by Arthur Miller, Eugene O’Neill, and efforts by three lesser known authors, all of which seem as relevant today as when they were set and/or written.
Photos by Frank Spring Opening: Loren Bidner & Sarah Mae Vink
Loose Ends by Michael Weller Directed by Terry Schreiber T. Schreiber Studio & Theater 151 West 26th Street Through April 15, 2017
49: 8- the ransom for a life is costly, no payment is ever enough–
Fifty year-old Victor Franz (Mark Ruffalo) is a cop. Entering what used to be his home, dispensing with jacket and firearm, he removes sheets from fine old furniture, picks up paraphernalia- a long oar, a fencing sword, tries the old radio and wind-up phonograph- on which we hear a 1920s laugh track. Above him, Derek McLane’s wonderful set suspends heavy, period furniture as if it were decorative molding on steroids.
Slowly, Victor circumnavigates the crowded, dusty room reacting to memories. One can almost see him think. The place has sat empty since the death of his father, a man whom he cared for and supported, sacrificing personal aspirations. Were it not for the building being torn down, all we see might remain in perpetual stasis.
The amount of time given to perusal is generous, effective, and rather brave. We feel the weight of history and Victor’s attachment. There’s isn’t a cough or rustle in the theater.
Jessica Hecht, Mark Ruffalo
Victor’s wife Esther (Jessica Hecht) joins him. She finds the apartment depressing, but feels it necessary to goose her husband both into getting the absolute best price from a furniture dealer on the way, and keeping the money, rather than splitting it with his estranged brother, Walter (Tony Shaloub), a well heeled doctor. This is a housewife suffering from empty nest syndrome, one who didn’t bargain for as small and mediocre life as she feels she’s enduring. “Everything was always temporary with us. You should’ve gotten out during the war.” Victor had planned to be a scientist.
In what seems the to-date highlight of his career, Danny DeVito veritably inhabits Solomon, the 90 year-old, semi-retired furniture dealer whose name Victor got from the phone book. Esther is suspicious. “I’m registered, I’m licensed, I’m even vaccinated,” he retorts with good humor as the men bid her goodbye.
Solomon is a gregarious salesman. Everything elicits a story, an explanation, a defense, an excuse. He talks about relative value, unpopular eras, oversized scale of gracious pieces, their aura of permanence. “A man gets married, sits at this table; he knows he’s gotta stay married.” Victor has trouble pinning the agent down to an offer. The arrangement is all or nothing. Itemization implies otherwise. Still, he has a soft spot for the old man and can’t help but being amused by knowledgeable spin, not to mention tidbits about Solomon’s own colorful life.
Mark Ruffalo, Danny DiVito
At one point, the dealer takes a hard boiled egg out of his briefcase and eats it. It’s sheer vaudeville. He answers Victor slightly spitting egg, chokes a bit, and swigs from a silver flask, never breaking stride. Ruffalo looks at DiVito with deep appreciation. It brings to mind The Carol Burnett Show, whose production team actually allowed the company to crack each other up on camera. Here, things are kept in appropriate check, though laughter feels imminent. Both actors are marvelous.
Just as cash is changing hands, Walter unexpectedly arrives suspending the sale. Victor practically backs away. He can’t let go of the difficult, deeply resented past in which Walter seems to have shaped his brother’s future. Facts and motivation conflict. Denial spurts like errant geysers, precursor to eruption.
The Price is heady and dense. Playwright Arthur Miller explores the complex, fallible nature of his beautifully drawn characters (humanity) and long term consequences of decisions that seemed axiomatic when made. Though not without humor, the drama seriously addresses one’s relationship with one’s self, others subject to fallout. A context that might easily evoke judgment abstains.
Danny DiVito, Mark Ruffalo, Tony Shaloub
The whiz bang company unfailingly balance one another. Tony Shaloub (Walter) is so forceful and charismatic when quick-changing tacks, uncertainty about his intentions never abates. Jessica Hecht’s portrayal of Esther makes the backbone of her marriage believable even after play-long discontent, prodding, and even threats.
Mark Ruffalo’s naturalistic performance is immensely nuanced. Small gestures and expressions speak volumes. The actor fully occupies his character even in silence. We’re made to feel Victor’s wrenching internal battle which encompasses not only the pivotal earlier decision, but taking a stand that must powerfully affect life going forward. That which Ruffalo holds in is as palpably potent as his outbursts.
Danny DiVito’s Solomon captivates. Walking a fine line between amusing attributes and credibility, DiVito never grows too broad. Miller gives us a familiar type, but the actor brings him to quirky and specific life. Comic timing is impeccable.
Director Terry Kinney does a masterful job in regulating the ebb and flow of emotion. Everyone has his/her own reaction timing. Small business and use of the staging area seem character instinctive. Kinney’s opening is inspired. Periodic use of room elements – visualize Danny DiVito stuck holding an oar five times his height – is wry, yet never inappropriate.
Derek McLane’s excellent set pairs adjacent water towers and an expanse of backdrop sky with the terrifically appointed room.
This is an extremely satisfying production of a superb play.
Photos by Joan Marcus Opening: Mark Ruffalo, Tony Shaloub
Roundabout Theatre Company presents Arthur Miller’s The Price
Directed by Terry Kinney
American Airlines Theater
227 West 42nd Street
Serious voodoo is being practiced on West 22nd Street these days. Prepare to be immersed in the vengeful actions of a spirit world made lucid by a sensational production of Eugene O’Neill’s The Emperor Jones.
Brutus Jones (Obi Abili), having killed another man in a dice game, was jailed in the States, but somehow escaped to a Caribbean island. Details are kept pointedly unclear. During a confrontation in the backward village where he found himself, Jones’ antagonist shot to kill, but his gun misfired.
Thinking quickly, the erstwhile target declared he couldn’t be dispatched by a lead bullet, only one of silver. Natives assumed all powerful magic. The interloper became a barbarous, self-serving Emperor. Savvy and prepared, money sequestered outside the country, he’s ready to flee when the time comes.
Andy Murray, Obi Abili
Jones is informed by cowed confederate, Henry Smithers (the only white man), that his “palace” servants have deserted him for the jungle. Response is disdainful and cocky. When sinister drums start, he nonetheless realizes time has come to abandon the ersatz throne. It’s three hours till nightfall, Jones knows the route out, and has cleverly hidden food. What could go wrong?
The rest of the chronicle follows his journey. Impeded by nature made hostile; haunted, torn, and misdirected by “the invisibles,” he suffers exhaustion, starvation and madness.
There are an infinite number of ways one might manifest the above. The symbiotic creatives at Irish Rep, under the adroit helm of Director Ciaran O’Reilly, offer a visually and audibly inventive, palpably menacing, magical scenario. O’Reilly, proven skillful with both naturalism and musicals is also apparently superb with the inconceivable. Concept and coordination are as outstanding as his lead’s performance.
Actor Obi Abili plays Brutus Jones as if possessed. Credibly egotistical and amoral, his character’s progressive shock and terror at what he’s experiencing is apparent from eyes to bodywork. We feel him wracked both by emotion and actual obstruction. You’ll feel yourself tense and wince. The fire-in-his-belly performance is memorable. This is only Mr. Abili’s second appearance in the United States. Watch him rise.
Unfortunately Andy Murray seems not to have figured out who Smithers is, which communicates as being insubstantial onstage.
Barry McNabb’s terrific Choreography shapes not only an evocative ceremonial dance by the Witch Doctor (a sinuous and emphatic Sinclair Mitchell) but movement and mood of trees/vines and creatures.
Puppet and Mask Design by Bob Flanagan utilizes a variety of styles all of which manage to coexist in a fantastic realm, delivering constant surprise and delight. These are some of the best I’ve seen since the work of Julie Taymor.
Ryan Rumery & M. Florian Staab create Sound Design and Music which buoys atmosphere and elicits shuddering anticipation.
Antonia Ford-Roberts and Whitney Locher imagine flora costuming that almost disappears into the set. The Witch Doctor appears authentic. Jones’ costume is just right. Charlie Corcoran’s Set Design as effectively lit by Brian Nason brings the jungle to animated life.
An experimental play one might call exemplary of Magical Realism – a term coined long after the work’s inception, 1920’s The Emperor Jones signaled the first popular success of playwright Eugene O’Neill. Unlike anything else the iconic author had written, the piece appears to have been inspired by his political views on the U.S. “imperialist” occupation of Haiti (beginning in 1915, but subsequent to the drama’s setting) and influenced by inbred Catholicism (wages of sin) as well as intimate knowledge of personal (familial) demons.
The Irish Repertory Theatre’s muscular interpretation is not to be missed.
The rest of a remarkable company: William Bellamy, Carl Hendrick Louis, Angel Moore, Reggie Talley
Photos by Carol Rosegg Opening Obi Abili
Irish Repertory Theatre presents The Emperor Jones by Eugene O’Neill Directed by Ciaran O’Reilly Irish Repertory Theatre 132 West 22nd Street Through April 23, 2017
John Kander (1927-) and Fred Ebb (1928-2004) were introduced in 1962 and collaborated on their firstBroadway musical, Flora the Red Menace (introducing Liza Minnelli) in 1965. Career highlights include the iconic may-run-forever Cabaret, successively revived Chicago- (both made into films), Lauren Bacall’s transition from film to theater in Woman of the Year, and the formidable Scottsboro Boys. The multifaceted team also wrote “New York, New York”, arguably our city anthem- the theme to Martin Scorsese’s 1977 film of the same name.
Certain music from Kander’s oeuvre is so evocative of memorable theater, it makes the hairs on one’s arm stand at attention. The Pop’s opening, Suite from Chicago does just that. Some of the audience bob in their seats or tap their feet, others mouth lyrics. More than an era or city, Kander and Ebb (here with Bob Fosse) captured an ethos of gleefully celebrated corruption uncomfortably familiar today. I suspect Cabaret continues to pack them in for the same reason. The shows are not just innovative and entertaining, they’re resonant.
John Kander in the balcony. To his right, director Susan Stroman
Tonight’s Guest Vocalists are both young Broadway veterans.
Cassie Leavy has a smooth, confident voice that can unfurl with moderation or belt, though she seems audibly more at home with the latter. She has stage presence. Results, however, are mixed: “Mein Herr” and “Maybe This Time” from Cabaret, lack pathos and bite. “Roxy” (Chicago) and “Everybody’s Girl” (Steel Pier) are missing their innately wicked play. One wonders whether the youthful performer understands the songs’ context.
More contemporary, ‘Ring Them Bells” (Liza with a Z) and “Colored Lights” (The Rink) fare better. Leavy embodies pluck and exasperation attributable to the first song’s protagonist. With the second, we feel hope and ambition as her voice lilts and loops with sweet, trailing vibrato.
Tony Yazbeck rushes through the terrific “Coffee in a Cardboard Cup” (70 Girls, 70) -due to speedy arrangement that robs the number authenticity and delivers a couple of songs as Billy Flynn from Chicago, a role to which he’s imminently returning, with no discernible charisma.
Tony Yazbeck, Steven Reineke, Cassie Levy
Act II, however, sees a complete transformation. Yazbeck’s delicate “Sometimes a Day Goes By” (Woman of the Year) with only piano accompaniment, is eminently tender and touching. “You, You, You” (The Visit) follows suit with palpable yearning. Both of these showcase the performer’s emotional tenor. Yazbeck then offers this evening’s zenith, “City Lights” (The Act) during which, having infectious fun, he grows fully animated, even engaging in loosey goosey, complex tap dance.
In addition to a sassy overture, The New York Pops Orchestra excels with “Hot Honey Rag” (Chicago) which grins, twirls, and flips its hat in textured musical layers and a powerful, lush rendition of “The Minstrel March” (The Scottsboro Boys).
Music Director/Conductor Steven Reineke keeps us abreast of each song’s origin with a bit of amiable patter. At his suggestion, we sing “Happy Birthday” to John Kander, spot-lit in the balcony. Far from retired, the honoree’s Kid Victory (written with Greg Pierce) is playing at New York’s Vineyard Theatre. He’s now at work on The Beast of The Jungle, based on a novella by Henry James.
John Kander celebrates his 90th Birthday on March 18. We honor both his partnership and continuing high craft.
Photos by Richard Termine Opening: Tony Yazbeck, Cassie Levy
NEXT for The New York Pops: You’ve Got a Friend: A Celebration of Singers and Songwriters- April 21, 2017
Carnegie Hall presents The New York Pops Steven Reineke-Music Director and Conductor Guest Artists: Cassie Levy, Tony Yazbeck Life Is a Cabaret: The Songs of Kander and Ebb
