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.
This is a real, honest to God love story. Its heroine, Megan McGinnis, and her husband of not quite three years, Adam Halpin, currently play opposite one another in the utterly charming Daddy Longlegs at The Davenport Theatre. Neither expected they would share a stage, but then neither anticipated what can arguably be described as a romance the likes of which one rarely hears about these days.
Adam and Megan back then
Once upon a time, in 2004, young actor Adam Halpin attended a concert version of a musical based on Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Megan McGinnis, who had already acted on Broadway several times, played Viola. Our hero remembers being mesmerized. At the after party, he introduced himself and they spoke briefly. “Unfortunately, she doesn’t remember the meeting at all.” Megan nods in wry affirmation. I ask whether Adam knew he’d met the one. “I think I did, but the lothario in me denied it at first.” They went their separate ways.
Four years later, Megan and her then boyfriend who had friends in the cast, went to see a dress rehearsal of Glory Days on Broadway. Adam was in the cast. The three spoke afterwards. Interest rekindled, “It took me a second to have a crush on her,” Adam initiated a Facebook friendship. Time passed. The actress found herself once again single.
Andrew C.Call, Jesse P. Johnson, Adam Halpin, Steven Booth in Glory Days (Photo by Scott Suchman)
That summer, the two ran into each other at auditions for the national tour of Fiddler on the Roof. Stuck and bored for four or five hours, they spent the time talking. Two days later, he emailed Megan asking whether she’d heard anything. “My first reaction was, he’s such an actor, he only cares about the job. I wrote him back saying no, I didn’t. I guess I didn’t get it.” She shrugs.
“The next day he wrote me the most witty, charming message. It was read aloud at our wedding… “I was like, I’ve totally misjudged him. This wasn’t about the business. He likes me! She sounds genuinely surprised. “But I wasn’t sure. I started questioning it; I didn’t know whether he was single.” Couldn’t mutual friends have answered at least that question? “She’s just not that kind of girl,” Adam comments with admiration. “She doesn’t think that way. Not good at the game.” Megan emphatically concurs. They started to correspond.”
Megan McGinnis, Mara Davi in Thoroughly Modern Millie (Photo courtesy of California Music Circus )
Posting on Facebook that she was volunteering for the Obama campaign (his first run), Megan received a message from Adam saying that was also his intention. “He’s extremely political,” she tells me rather protectively. “It was not just a way to get in.” They drove to Pennsylvania with a friend of Megan’s – “I was like, don’t put me in a car with a guy I don’t really know” – and spent the day. On election night, Adam texted and asked permission to call. “I thought that was so chivalrous.” He asked her out for a drink and they started dating. A decidedly slow burn.
Less than two months later, Adam was cast in the national tour of Rent. He’d be on the road 15 months. The preternaturally mature couple had “a big conversation” about whether they wanted to proactively continue the relationship or just see each other when he got back. They decided on the former.
Picture Megan and Adam sitting with a map and their joint schedules, working out when Megan would fly or train to join him and for how long, when he had a break, when she was working. She visited, mostly on his dime, about every three weeks. “I never took a cab to or from the airport, that was my big thing,” she says endearingly defensive. When Adam went to Japan, so did Megan. They Skyped or talked every night when apart. Are you enjoying this as much as I am?
Megan McGinnis sings with NY Pops (Photo by Jessica Fallon Gordon) Adam Halpin sing at Joe’s Pub (Photo by Nick Gaswith)
In 2009, Megan originated the role of Jerusha in Paul Gordon and John Caird’s two character musical Daddy Longlegs at The Rubicon Theater in Ventura California. (She’s performed the piece in 13 regional theaters over five years and has never felt her character get old.) Scheduling for this placed her at three theaters a year and home between. The couple, now serious, continued to take planes. If they weren’t so genuine, this could be a Hallmark film.
“I’m a very intense person,” Adam reflects. “I imagine that if we were together in New York all that time, things would’ve escalated too quickly. This way we really longed for each other. It was very much like writing letters.” An anachronistic word, ‘longing’ sounds natural coming from Adam. “We had to get to know each other,” Megan interjects. “When you’re in New York, there are lots of distractions. ‘Wonderful distractions, but…”
When the Rent tour ended, Megan and Adam talked about moving in together. Adam unexpectedly chose to get a studio apartment. He had never lived alone and wanted the experience. “It was so sweet, he picked an apartment on the same train line…we dated. Everything was great,” Megan says smiling. They both booked other jobs but were now emphatically committed. It had been seven years from the first meeting!
Megan performed for two months in Amanda McBroom & Michele Brourman’s Dangerous Beauty at Pasedena Playhouse in Los Angeles where her parents lived. Adam accompanied her. They considered it a serendipitous trial for living together. Upon returning, Adam moved in to her larger apartment.
One night, on House Hunters International (TV), a couple moving to Ireland declared that home was anywhere their partner was. “It just started the conversation about how we felt the same way. We talked about getting married. It was as simple as that,” Megan recalls.
Because they’d already talked about it and Megan would expect a declaration in any ‘formal’ environment, Adam felt the actual proposal should arrive out of the blue. They went shopping for an engagement ring and he took mental notes.
That summer, he telephoned Megan’s parents to ask her father for permission to marry. (Sigh) He rented an event space on Warren Street secretly inviting friends and family, including the McGinnises, who hadn’t been here since the couple started dating. Megan thought they were on a double date to a wine tasting until, behind a curtain, the crowd cheered their arrival. Adam got down on one knee. (of course) “I was wondering if you would spend the rest of your life being loved by me,” he said. Megan cried.
In September 2013, Megan McGinnis and Adam Halpin married in a Long Island City hotel and flew to Italy for their Honeymoon. Two months ago, they bought a new apartment together and are making a home between doing eight shows a week, intermittent concerts, and the occasional joint “adventure.”
When I first saw Daddy Long Legs in 2015, the role of Jervis Pendleton was played by the excellent Paul Alexander. (See my review.)
I saw the piece again two weeks ago with Adam in the role and was once again captivated.
Apparently neither Adam nor Megan thought he should play Jervis. “The show’s been mine. He’s been a supportive boyfriend, fiancé, and husband, it’s always been separate,” she says. When someone on the creative team suggested he audition, “I said Noooo…” Megan consulted with Adam who curiously agreed. “I just never saw myself as the guy. Actors think they can do everything, so it’s weird.”
Still, pressed by the show’s team, with his wife purposely out of the room, Adam acquiesced. Director John Caird told Megan they wanted to hire him, but deferentially asked whether it was ok with both actors. The couple had one of their long discussions and determined they could handle a three month trial. It worked out, so Adam signed on again.
“I do think it’s difficult to work with your loved one. It’s SO much time together. You never get a break. Especially with two actors who care so much. We’re constantly thinking about how to better ourselves and the show, “ Megan tells me. “She approaches it with a fine tooth comb, so every night it’s fresh,” Adam adds appreciatively.
The couple was given a few suggested rules by Director John Caird: not to go to work together – a stipulation they follow – not to go home together – to which they sometimes adhere – and don’t talk about the show outside the theater – which the two more or less ignore. Recently, Megan admitted to Caird that she and Adam don’t comply with the third premise. “I knew you wouldn’t,” he responded, “I just wanted you to feel guilty when you broke the rule.” Megan does. Adam calmly takes it as another challenge in the relationship. “It’ll never happen again.” Famous last words.
What’s it like for a newly married couple to play each other’s love interest?
“It took quite awhile for me not to cry onstage during the last scene. (The happy ending could appropriately warrant tears.) I felt like I was losing control, crossing that fine line of singing the song to my wife while still being able to get the notes out. I had to find a happy medium between acting and living in the moment.” Adam
“Jervis’s `What Does She Mean By Love’ is one of my favorite moments in the show. I love the song and the way Adam sings it. I’m reading Jane Eyre in a dark corner during the number and I’m dying to look up. That’s definitely when I’m like, oh it’s Adam.” Megan. He laughs.
“I like looking at you the first time I come to the college as Jervis Pendleton, during `The Color of Your Eyes,’ the first time we actually look at each other for more than a millisecond. I like having that click moment,” Adam says warmly to his wife. “It’s like a check-in, hey, how’re you doing?” Megan adds beaming.
“I also love stepping into Jervis’s office at the end of the show, the whole last scene when Jerusha and he come together,” she continues. “That’s the part every night when I let go of the rest of the show and just enjoy it. Whatever the night holds, that scene feels like it’s for me and Adam. I never don’t feel like my character onstage, but it’s the perfect mix.”
“And we’re not constantly checking in with the audience,” Adam adds. There’s no fourth wall for much of Daddy Long Legs. Megan and Adam aka Jerusha and Jervis speak directly to us. Caird was very specific with the style, in essence, making both actors extremely vulnerable. Megan remembers that her audition included singing to him, something many musical theater actors find uncomfortable. She was admittedly nervous about it at first, but says it now seems so right. (I can testify to this.)
Not only is that authentic intimacy encouraged, but Jerusha’s prop letters to Jervis are real. Each and every one bears the narrative’s handwritten text, some of which Jervis/Adam reads aloud rather than delivering memorization. When the college girl writes these during performance, her cursive runs over actual words on the page, albeit with an inkless pen.
Is Adam still romantic?
“Oh, yes, but don’t ask him that question about me,” Megan responds. “Do you know about the Five Languages of Love?” (I later look up this Gary Chapman list. They are: Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Receiving Gifts, Quality Time, and Physical Touch) “His is words, he speaks wonderful words and mine is action (acts of service). I love to do things for him.” “She does so many thoughtful things.” Adam looks at his bride with love and esteem.
“There are also moments of true romance, like when I made the Honeymoon Book,” Megan says talking directly to Adam. “That was a very non-Megan thing to do, very crafty,” he replies. “He had talked about wanted to do it and we just never did, so when he was on tour, I put it together. There were photographs, memories, even some receipts.” “I was impressed,” Adam says gratefully. Can you imagine any scenario other than Happily Ever After?
Megan and Adam’s current contracts go till June, though they may be reissued. Go. You will be delighted.
Daddy Long Legs Production Photos by Jeremy Daniels Wedding Photos by Laura Marie Duncan
Daddy Long Legs Based on the novel By Jean Webster Music and Lyrics by Paul Gordon Book by John Caird Directed by John Caird The Davenport Theatre 354 West 45th Street
As I’m not precisely sure of the tale I’ve just witnessed, I can only share impressions. Note: The only, very tenuous similarities to Madame Butterfly here are love, loss and Japan.
Butterfly is a gentle maker of kites. On stage, these are bamboo, small, often silk, and given ribbon tails. A suitor, who buys many, leaves a gift wrapped book each time he exits. When he eventually reaches for her, she jumps away and tries to return his gift.
Naomi Livingstone; Naomi Livingstone and Chris Alexander
One day, testing her wares, the lady meets a lepidopterist – someone who studies butterflies. Both are infatuated with flight and, one would think freedom. Butterfly learns to wield the man’s net much as she does her airborne craft. Flying creatures are depicted by fluttering hands. It’s balletic. They grow close. He moves in. The first time her lover kills, pins and frames a creature, she’s taken aback, but unexpectedly accepts what he does. Shelves at the back of her shop fill with jars containing butterflies.
Her determined pursuer returns with another book, which she refuses. Butterfly’s untrusting lover walks in on this and becomes violently jealous. Subsequently he appears to catch the first man raping her (very effective), presumes she’s acquiescent, mistreats and abandons her.
Naomi Livingstone, Ramesh Meyyappan, Chris Alexander
Interpretation of the rest of the piece is up for grabs. Some or all of it may be fantasy, dream/nightmare. The men separately return and exit. Butterfly may or may not have a baby. As both male actors manipulate a toddler puppet we never know if they’re supposed to be there as characters as well. All that’s clear is Butterfly’s pain.
Much of the entirely silent-but-for-music piece is eloquently directed by its Creator Ramesh Meyyappan, but its ending is uncomfortably vague.
All three actors do a splendid job with Naomi Livingstone’s Butterfly a nuanced standout. Until things become obscure, we’re with them every step.
David Paul Jones’s Music is consistently appealing and evocative. Choreographer Darren Brownie creates a graceful, fluid narrative.
While one understands that Gavin Glover’s toddler puppet may very well be an imagined child, i.e. intended to be not quite fully realized, it’s so angry looking/lacking in any sweetness, tenderness is elusive.
Set Designer Neil Warmington manifests atmosphere as well as scenery. That screens (covered by kite skeletons) and shelving are held by the same bamboo with which Butterfly makes her kites is a lovely touch. Dozens upon dozens of jars with butterflies suddenly shock towards the end of the piece when Warmington effects a change.
Photos by Carol Rosegg Opening: Ramesh Meyyappan and Naomi Livingstone
Brits Off Broadway presents Butterfly Created, Directed and Performed by Ramesh Meyyappan Featuring Naomi Livingstone and Chris Alexander 59E59 Theaters 59 East 59th Street Through May 14, 2016
The Rosedale Street Bakehouse has seen far better times. Lower class, country Englishmen without choices work ungodly hours barely protected by a union whose rulebook is kept on hand. The break room in which we’re about to spend two very long hours is minimally furnished with metal tables, chairs, and a sink (water runs brown), a bulletin board and a dial-up pay phone. Through the filthy glass wall, we can see lights tracking machinery. James Turner’s Set Design is appropriately bleak, worn, and covered in flour.
Steve Nicolson
Employees have few pleasures and no aspirations outside camaraderie. Good- natured foreman Blakey (Steve Nicolson) plays rock and roll guitar (execrably) in his off time. Dezzie (Kieran Knowles) just moved into a house where hot water comes out of a faucet! Cecil (Simon Greenall) is preoccupied with sex, particularly that which he’s not getting. (Beckett, he says, is shagging that girl in custards who has no teeth, which can be of benefit.) Long haired Peter (Matt Sutton) likes to play cards. The rather slow Nellie aka Walter (Matthew Kelly) has given 45 years of his life to the facility. Smoking is his only self indulgence. Colin (Will Barton), their union representative is an officious cipher. Accents, be warned, are, though undoubtedly accurate, extremely strong and often incomprehensible.
Simon Greenall, John Wark, Matt Sutton, Kieran Knowles
Aware the place will shortly be shuttered, Blakey and Colin have unknowingly applied for the same job at another bakehouse. No one else appears to have higher ambitions. Due to failure elsewhere, 3000 loaves are expected of the men, requiring an extended schedule – and it’s Sunday.
Into this tight-knit group, the boss has sent a fill-in, “adult student” Lance (John Wark), whose middle class clothes, educated vocabulary, and manner are out of place. Checking the substitute’s hands for dermatitis, Blakey notices scars on his wrists from attempted suicide. The newbe at first has difficulty even talking, but surprised at finding himself efficient, takes to his job with enthusiasm and slowly, if peripherally, joins his fellows. Later, you’ll have to decide whether Lance is delusional or an angel of death.
Matthew Kelly, John Wark
The men come in and out on cigarette and meal breaks: fish paste or cheese sandwiches. There’s ribbing, banter, and card games. Eventually, something goes radically amiss.
Playwright Richard Bean offers an unmistakably authentic scenario, but so little happens, it’s an effort to remain consistently interested. (The second act is better.) You’d never know the same man wrote One Man, Two Guvnors.
Matthew Kelly
Every character is three dimensional, with Simon Greenall’s Cecil and John Wark’s Lance manifesting notable distinctions. Of the group, Matthew Kelly (Nellie) is the stand out in a role made challenging by its lack of overt expression. Kelly holds our attention in lengthy silences between monosyllabic responses. The character thinks simplistically and moves heavily. At a moment towards the end, he comes unexpectedly and palpably to life.
Eleanor Bean’s Direction helps color her characters. Staging is effective. Holly Rose Henshaw’s Costumes set tone, class, and place perfectly. Her conception of Lance fits like a puzzle piece. Sound Design by Max Pappenheim is so real, it’s rather unnerving. We hear the hum of big machinery from the get-go, echoing voices of those who attempt to solve a problem on the floor, and malfunctions that rock the room.
Photos by Oliver King
Opening: Steve Nicolson, Simon Greenall, Will Barton, Matthew Kelly, Matt Sutton
Brits Off Broadway and Snapdragon Productions present Toast by Richard Bean Directed by Eleanor Rhode 59E 59 Theaters 59 East 59th Street Through May 22, 2016
Would you want to live forever as you are? Think about losing everyone you love over decades as well as hiding in order not to be feared and ostracized. (In an update, one might easily be locked in a Pentagon lab.) Now imagine being given that choice as a curious, imaginative, over-protected 11 year-old child. In 1893.
The Tuck Family – pa, Angus (the thoroughly appealing Michael Park), ma, Mae (Carolee Carmello whose presence is warm, but whose voice is abrasive), older son, Miles (Robert Lenzi), and younger son, Jesse (a lively, sympathetic Andrew Keenan-Bolger) were homesteading 100 years ago, when they all drank from an innocuous spring and became immortal. Miles and Jesse leave home on ten- year walkabouts, but Angus and Mae stick, wary and secluded. Still, the family remains close. Life goes on. And on. But this isn’t really about the Tucks.
Andrew Keenan-Bolger, Robert Lenzi, Carolee Carmello, Sarah Charles Lewis
Winnie Foster (newcomer, Sarah Charles Lewis), lives with her mother (a credible Valerie Wright) and grandmother (Pippa Pearthree with a surprisingly artificial old age accent), at the edge of woods which have been owned by her family for generations. Mrs. Foster remains in widow’s weeds after almost a year and confines her restless daughter to the house. When a fair comes to town, the usually obedient child can stand it no longer and runs off to have some fun.
Crossing the forest, Winnie encounters Jesse on his way home after a lengthy absence, and sees him drink from the spring. What could be more welcome than fresh water? She moves towards it. Jesse distracts her suggesting they climb an enormous tree – perspective, of course, affecting everything. Neither has ever really had a friend.
Sarah Charles Lewis, Andrew Keenan-Bolger
Set Designer Walt Spanger’s tree is comprised of what appear to be curved, undulating plywood boards hung with enormous clumps of like-colored leaves. It’s marvelous. The Foster’s Victorian door front, the Tuck’s Joseph-Cornell-meets-Louise-Nevelson home, and night stars are also terrific. Lighting Designer Kenneth Posner does an excellent job of adding magic to a production that unfortunately has little of it elsewhere.
Mae comes looking for her sons and finds Miles, whereupon Jesse drops from the tree. Before he can explain, Winnie follows. Anyone knowing about their existence is a threat. An untrustworthy child can only be more so. They throw a coat over her head and take her home. Angus is delighted they have a dinner guest. Mae is worried. Miles is furious. Jesse says “Can we keep her?”
Meanwhile, Constable Joe (Fred Applegate) and his nerdy son/deputy Hugo (Michael Wartella) search for Winnie. I don’t remember these characters from the book, but here they seem given too much stage time.
Carolee Carmello and Michael Park
Jesse passes for 17, but is actually 103. There are clues in the way the Tucks react and in what they say. The story comes out. Angus and Mae soften towards the girl. Miles reveals a secret. Still, prudence dictates that Winnie, promising never to tell, will be escorted home the next day. Not. Reveling in company with whom he can share adventures, Jesse takes Winnie to the fair.
Costume Designer Gregg Barnes manifests artistic, multi-pattern thespian apparel, period clothing for towns people just fanciful enough not to distract, and perfectly conceived attire for the “Man in the Yellow Suit.” The concept of dressing the show’s EVER-present, disconnected dancers (really, one begins to want to brush them away like mosquitoes) as wood nymphs or something from a Renaissance fair, however, is a real mistake. The visual is a constant disconnect.
Andrew Keenan-Bolger, Sarah Charles Lewis
A desire to win something for Winnie provokes Jesse into volunteering to have his age guessed by the yellow-clad owner of the fair. Winnie tries unsuccessfully to warn her friend. The Man in the Yellow Suit (Terrance Mann) had been sniffing around her house asking questions about a spring and an old family. He knows. The usually entertaining Mr. Mann appears trapped in a role he now regrets. There’s little amusement in his portrayal.
The “youngsters” run off too late, are followed and overheard. The Man in the Yellow Suit has ambitions of world dominion. He’ll blackmail Winnie’s mother in exchange for a deed to the woods. Mrs. Foster, Winnie, and the Tucks have major decisions to make. Winnie’s is whether to stay with the Tucks, secretly agree to join them later, or live her life. The Tucks must decide whether to finally pull up roots. Only two of these decisions depend on The Man in the Yellow Suit.
Terrance Mann
Sarah Charles Lewis makes a fine Winnie in her Broadway debut. The young actress embodies innocence, joy, spunk, confusion, and an accessibility that will serve her career.
Having just written a review of another new musical with lackluster songs, I regretfully feel this one is even less successful. Lyrics sound like heavy handed and/or cliché prose unwillingly submitting to music which itself arrives homogenized folk. Except for a ballet epilogue, there’s no fantasy, no purity, no poetry.
Being an otherwise tremendous fan of Director/Choreographer Casey Nicholaw, I can’t imagine what he was thinking!
Photos by Joan Marcus Opening: Sarah Charles Lewis
Tuck Everlasting Based on the book ‘Tuck Everlasting’ by Natalie Babbitt Book by Claudia Shear & Tom Federle Music by Chris Miller Lyrics by Nathan Tysen Directed by Casey Nicholaw Broadhurst Theatre 235 West 44th Street
On the one hand, Waitress is yet another story of a blue collar, abused woman who finds the strength to walk out of a loveless marriage into an independent life. On the other, its setting – a southern Pie Shop/Diner and ancillary characters are so winning, the story almost seems fresh.
This is partially due to one of the most well written Books created for a musical in as long as I can remember. Author Jessie Wilson is smart, sensitive, insightful, and humorous. She reveals more about a character in a few lines than others attempt in paragraphs when not dependent on lyrics. (More about these later.) Brava. It’s also attributable to some splendid performances.
Keala Settle, Jessie Mueller, Kimiko Glenn
By all rights this should be Jessie Mueller’s second Tony Award. The artist acts as well as she sings (here with a perfect southern accent), thinks before our eyes, and offers the kind of universal, everywoman appeal we haven’t had in a Broadway leading lady for some time. How long has it been since you were moved during a musical?
For those of you unfamiliar with the film, Jenna (Jessie Mueller), is married to sullen, demeaning, beer guzzling Earl (Nick Codero) who demands every penny she earns. The actor literally makes one wince he’s so convincing. Beaten down/fearful and unable to imagine managing alone, she sticks. (We learn her father was like Earl.)
Jenna doubles as waitress and talented pie baker at a highway Diner/Pie Shop run by cliché/irascible Cal (a pitch perfect Eric Anderson). On the menu are, in part: Wake Up and Smell the Coffee Pie, Devil’s Food Oasis Pie, Ginger Snap Out of It Pie, and Humble Crumble Rhubarb Pie. Throughout the piece, the young woman muses on recipes with titles that are metaphors of what’s going on in her life.
Keala Settle, Kimiko Glenn
Jenna’s only emotional support come from her fellow servers, Sassy, smart-alek, grounded Becky (Keala Settle) and gawky, virginal, Dawn (Kimiko Glenn), whom the ladies are trying to ease into the dating pool. Settle has a fine R & B voice and acts up a storm in her modest role. Glenn’s voice walks the line of screechy, but the actress delivers comedy with flair.
Flinty diner regular, Joe (Dakin Matthews), whose meal stipulations are exacting, also turns out to be unexpectedly perceptive about and sympathetic to Jenna’s difficulties. Unsurprisingly, the veteran actor is charming.
The diner, as conceived by Set Designer Scott Pask is cheerful-Hollywood-musical appealing if you don’t take notice of the piano loaded up with pies and the ostensibly invisible, on-stage band. (Is this necessary?!) Kitchen scenes are called out by wheeled, gridwork, storage shelves making transitions fluid. An ever present backdrop of bleak roadway with telephone poles reminds us where we are.
One night, Earl plies Jenna with liquor and, much to her shock and distress, impregnates her. (Betrayed By My Eggs Pie) Confection in hand, she visits her gynecologist only to discover the woman’s retired. Instead she finds the newly installed, sweet but seemingly bumbling Dr. Pomatter (Drew Gehling). Jenna tells him she’d prefer not to be congratulated.
Drew Gehling, Jessie Mueller
The two are immediately attracted. Though the doc declares he’s given up sugar, she leaves her pie. Watching him hesitantly sniff, taste, then gorge on it with eyes glazing over is magical. The audience erupts. Her concoctions, he later tells Jenna, are “Biblically good.”
Drew Gehling, with whom I am unfamiliar, is enchanting. The Andrew Garfield lookalike is progressively drawn, besotted, and lustful with such gusto and authenticity, he take us unquestioningly along. Thespian skills include physical comedy, an engaging voice and the ability to shift to believable gravitas.
As Jenna’s belly grows, she and Pomatter give in to a needful, exhilarating affair observed by wry Nurse Norma (Charity Angel Dawson). Stage direction of the couple’s encounters is exuberant, credible and rather hot. Along the way, Earl discovers his wife is pregnant and makes her promise never to love the baby more than him. This, he obtusely assumes, cements their commitment. (White Knuckle Cream Pie.)
Nick Cordero, Jessie Mueller
The only plausible answer to Jenna’s situation appears with the announcement of a pie contest whose prize is $20,000. Hopeful of escape, she starts to sequester money around the house for the entrance fee. At leisure after losing his job “…so it looks like you’ll be payin’ the bills around here,” Earl finds the cash. He’s furious. Now what?!
A secondary storyline involves Dawn’s resistant involvement with Ogie (the masterfully cast Christopher Fitzgerald) whom she initially connects with online. Her suitor is a geeky looking (think Book of Mormon) tax auditor and amateur magician who only eats white foods on Wednesday. Ogie turns up at the diner and doggedly refuses to leave until promised at least a second date. He knows what he wants.
Christopher Fitzgerald, Kimiko Glenn, Aisha Jackson
“Never Ever Getting Rid of Me” is one of the best numbers in the show, not the least because of the fleet-footed, pixilated Mr. Fitzgerald who highjacks our hearts. Not since he played Og (from Og to Ogie), the leprechaun in Finian’s Rainbow, has the actor had an opportunity like this to excel. Spot-on timing, priceless expressions, and a spastic jig are but a few examples of virtuosity. The things Ogie and Dawn have in common couldn’t be more quirky and amusing. A later glimpse at Revolutionary interest is inspired.
Waitress may be the best, warmest, least fussy staging ever executed by Director Diane Paulus. While we’re familiar with her all-bets-are-off production numbers – these, in fact, seem more character specific – intimate scenes are executed with restraint and finesse.
Choreographer Lorin Latarro makes his dances organic and fun.
Jessie Mueller, Dakin Matthews
NOW, lets talk about music and lyrics, the least effective part of the show. But for one or two songs, Sara Bareilles’ music is close to tuneless, her lyrics so pedestrian as to pass with little effect, her orchestrations dense. How she managed to feature in this production is a wonder.
Costumes by Suttirat Anne Larlab show real knowledge of locale, economics, and personality. Jonathan Dreans’s Sound Design is poor. Bass and drums too often drown out lyrics. Balance is nonexistent.
Photos by Joan Marcus Opening: Jessie Mueller
Waitress Book by Jessie Nelson Music & Lyrics by Sara Barielles Based on the film written by Adrienne Shelly Directed by Diane Paulus Brooks Atkinson Theatre 256 West 47th Street
Actor/Author/“Marcel Marceau-card-carrying Mime.” Bill Bowers has performed and led workshops in all 50 states and 25 countries …in school gymnasiums, homeless shelters, parking lots and at The White House.
In St. Ignatius, Montana, he tried to bring the wonder of silent expression to a room full of uncomprehending Amish kids. In Warsaw, Poland, he offered a show about growing up gay to a population that for seven days set fire to an art installation comprised of a rainbow of flowers signifying peace and acceptance. In Atlanta, Georgia, he was stranded in his car 21 hours between shows during the city’s 2014 freak snowstorm – wherein he received a Kafkaesque overture of aid and was grateful for an empty coffee cup.
Bowers is the kind of man you’d value as a friend – creative, smart, curious, wry, and kind. When a crowded St. Louis bus is stymied by a confused passenger in a wheelchair, he not only gets him out of the vehicle, but serendipitously ends up sharing something of a mystical experience. Unpredictable communication with a 17 year-old Macedonian becomes something of an O. Henry story. (There are moments of sheer poetry.) In Billings, Montana, his workshop is attended by a 15 pound bunny rabbit named Rocky who emails after the event. He writes back. This wonderfully surprising chapter goes on several years.
The date and location of each show are projected onto three screens in a charmingly naïve manner (Projection Designer – Bryce Cutler) while Bowers uses only rearranged chairs as his set. There are moments of mime, but in this most recent presentation, the thespian acts as raconteur rather than full-out practitioner of his art. One of his shorter mime pieces would’ve been not only welcome, but for those unfamiliar, illuminating.
Bowers show has been produced in Amsterdam by The Happy Hooker – yes, that one – with a less than positive outcome except for the entertaining tale itself. An old codger in Choteau, Montana tells him “kids need to see there’s other ways to communicate than hittin’ and screamin.” His Worley, Ohio piece took place in a nudist colony.
There’s more. And every word is true. Stay a minute after Bowers’s bow and you’ll see photos of many of these events on the screens. The evening is warm and captivating, a reminder that in these difficult, cynical times, sheer humanity can, at least parenthetically, win. Bowers is a latter day Will Rogers.
Director Martha Banta does a lovely job. Action is visually fluid, emotions subtly expressed. Pacing is pitch perfect.
Photos by Maria Baranova-Suzuki
All For One Theater presents All Over the Map Written and Performed by Bill Bowers Directed by and Developed with Martha Banta The Lion Theater 410 West 42nd Street Through May 7, 2016
Part Master Class, part jamboree and about as much fun as you can legally have at an evening of musical theater, this high test extravaganza shares, one gathers, but a smidgen of material jettisoned from what we now enjoy at the St. James Theater. Authors Karey and Wayne Kirkpatrick wrote 54 songs for Something Rotten!
What was eventually chosen is arguably not only swell but best serves the piece. Cleverness of songs currently relegated to the brothers’ trunk, is, however, formidable. Though some are “site” specific, others could successfully be performed by cabaret and concert singers. Many of us in the sold-out crowd at Feinstein’s/54Below tonight, as well as those exiting the Broadway production, would be surefire customers for a CD of alternates, replete with Karey’s entertaining, explanatory, anecdotal repartee.
For those of you unfamiliar with the rollicking show (see my review), it concerns brothers Nick and Nigel Bottom “struggling in the shadows of that well known rock star Lin-Manuel Miranda – I mean Shakespeare.” (Karey) Welcome to the Renaissance/With poets, painters, and bon vivants…the original cast company sings. “I remember hearing that song and thinking it doesn’t sound much like Sondheim, but so many have told us they can’t get it out of their heads.” Right on, Karey. Part of the audience mouth the lyrics, many clap in time.
For tonight’s presentation, the gracious and very funny Karey, also on piano, acts as raconteur, while Wayne plays piano and guitar. Both writers, by the way, can sing. Also on piano is Musical Director Mat Eisenstein who manages an entirely new, complex production for this jam-packed, two-off performance.
At the beginning, “we went trolling through Shakespeare and wrote songs but didn’t have a plot.” By 2010, wondering whether the concept was viable, Karey and Wayne approached Kevin McCollum (producer of Rent). When he responded positively, the Kirkpatricks brought in John O’Farrell as third collaborator, “an incredibly funny writer who also knew a lot about Shakespeare, which meant less reading for us!”
“Words You Never Heard,” which calls out some of the many Shakespeare introduced into the English language, was one of those songs initially pitched. Broadway’s current Bard, Christian Borle, who won both Drama Desk and Tony Awards for his inspired performance, takes the stage with character swagger. After all, “he put the I am in iambic pentameter.” When he doesn’t have a word, the Bard makes it up. Some of those originated are: pander, pageantry, obsequious, stealthily, bedazzled…Borle delivers a full-out, cocky turn, punctuated by provocative fanny wag. There’s not a flicker of unfamiliarity with new material.
Next, Karey tells us about the origin of the now blockbuster production number “A Musical.” The unheard-of genre is foretold to Nick Bottom by Nostradamus (Brad Oscar) so that the underdog can compete with Shakespeare. We hear an initial rendition, then the more up-tempo version requested by Director Casey Nicholaw.
Nostradamus (Spoken):It appears to be a play where the dialogue stops/And the plot is conveyed through song. Nick (Spoken): Through song? Nostradamus: Yes. Nick: Wait, so an actor is saying his lines and out of nowhere he just starts singing? Nostradamus: Yes. Nick: Well that is the (Singing) Stupidest thing that I have ever heard/You’re doing a play, got something to say/So you sing it?… The dizzying number is a mash-up of familiar musical tunes with lyrics tailored to the moment. At the St. James, it has all the glitz and glamour one could wish for. Our grinning audience bounces in their seats.
John Cariani (Nigel Bottom) offers the deep-sixed “Nigel’s Lament,” dear to the authors’ hearts because it’s about a writer who thinks he’s no good: It all comes down to this, I suck, I suck/I hold my quill, but it still runs amuck…The company provides a choral arrangement including sucky, sucky, suck, man, you suck (in grave-faced harmony). Cariani’s (Nigel’s) eyebrows are knit to a point in utter humiliation.
A rejected celebration of romantic poetry that features Nigel (Cariani) and love interest, Portia (Kate Reinders), arrives as a 1970s Elton-Johnish number: love, love, love, love, magical, mythical love…the pair sing with tangy period flavor and infectious pseudo-gravitas. The two voices are terrific together, expressions priceless.
David Hibbard (Standby for Brian D’Arcy James’s Nick Bottom and three other roles) performs “On the Top” (which became “Bottom’s Gonna Be On Top”)…’om not gonna stop/until the Bottoms are on the top…An excellent vocalist, he also, as Nick, palpably vibrates with frustrated ambition.
Company member Marisha Wallace, with Cariani and Hibbard, sings a discarded “Right Hand Man,” as Nick’s wife Bea. Originally written as if ditsy support filled with obtuse insults, the number evolved into a demand for recognition of equal strength/ability. Wallace has a clarion voice we’re sure to hear in future outings and conveys the feckless woman exactly as the Kirkpatricks first envisioned her. The men are deadpan funny.
Heidi Blickenstaff (Bea) joins Cariani, Reinders and Hibbard for the very pretty “Lovely Love” in which we see all four actors occupy their roles. Blickenstaff closes her eyes and sighs into it, Cariani looks like a hopeful puppy, Reinders clasps hands at her breast overcome with pleasure, Hibbard expands with the possibility.
Karey and Wayne play the argumentative Nick and Nigel in an abandoned “The Trouble With You” whose consummate wordsmithing, like volleys of verse across a net, is an admired hoot. Nor, on the Broadway stage, did we see Nick and Nigel in the stocks among other prisoners, tap dancing (from the waist down) to “Desperate Times,” a metaphoric and currently politically apt complaint by those undeserved of such punishment.
We close with “Omlette” (the musical) and visions of dancing eggs. The Kirkpatricks wrote ten iterations of this! Sections from several range from rock n’ roll to the Andrews Sisters for inspiration. Alas, poor yolk, I know thee well…You make wine from sour grapes/ You got a flat pancake, hey, call it a crepe/When life gives you eggs, make an omelette…Om-om-om/Om-om-om/Om-om-om/Omelette…Who needs sugarplums?!
A chorus of company members throw themselves into this evening with gleeful abandon (as well as professionalism), enjoying it almost as much as the audience, dropping not a single new stitch. These include: Matt Allen, Elizabeth Early, Linda Griffin, Courtney Ivantosch, Aaron Kaburick, Tari Kelly, Beth Nicely, Aleks Pevec, Angie Schworer
The subversively instructive shenanigans were joyous and brimming with talent.
It’s been 17 years since Morag (Aedin Moloney) and her daughter Fiona (Barrie Kreinik) lived here, on the East Coast of Scotland. Seventeen years since the two were close, until Fiona did something that would unalterably change both their lives.
Her father having left when she was four, Fiona was raised by mam. The two are on holiday – man’s idea – hoping the distant 32 year-old might loosen up and talk. Morag is lonely. She badly wants a grandchild and presses the unattached Fiona who has no maternal yearning. “It’s not as if you had a career…”
Childhood best friend Vari (Zoe Watkins) still lives in the town, though now in a big house with a doctor husband and three children. Life placidly revolves around her kids. The women’s reunion sparks this memory play featuring expectation and sacrifice. We go episodically back and forth from childhood to current time.
Barrie Kreinik, Aedin Moloney
At 15, both ill-informed due to strict Catholicism, the girls grapple with sexuality. Fiona likes to “jig,” i.e. touch herself bouncing up and down. Mam puts a stop to that; it’s a sin and God will know. Her daughter’s a good girl. Vari, sure there is no God, not only feels free to experiment, but is aggressive about it. There are signs she might be gay.
“So it’s all right?” asks Fiona. “No, your husband will know,” retorts her friend confidently. When Vari lets a boy touch her inside while getting himself off, she tells her mother the stain is vanilla ice cream. (There are actual vanilla ice cream cones in several contemporary scenes.) Writing here is often vivid.
Zoe Watkins, Barrie Kreinik
At 32, Fiona finally asks about her dad. It seems her mam likes men, but not sex. Morag’s husband “…was like an elephant, so if he got it once every ten years…” In the next episode, we see Morag at a single, unmatronly 42. She’s in love. Fiona is jealous and resentful. Things compound when mam’s lover needs to move back to the Middle East. Feeling it’s her last chance at happiness, Morag wants to go and suggests leaving Fiona with Vari’s parents.
Her daughter simply will not have it. Enlisting the help of the feckless Ewan (Colby Howell)…
Colby Howell, Barrie Kreinik
Playwright Sharman Macdonald (Kiera Knightley’s mother) has insight into both Catholic influence and character changes under these challenging circumstances. Voices sound authentic at various ages. She is, however, somewhat verbose. The piece could successfully be cut.
Barrie Kreinik’s Fiona is the weak link. The actress does only a yeoman-like job. Zoe Watkins’s Vari exudes life force. Watkins has terrific stage presence, inhabiting her wry, resigned character with credibility and warmth. The piece revolves around Aedin Moloney’s strong, nuanced performance. Here we see thinking and feeling evolve before us. Also featuring a sympathetic Colby Howell as Ewan.
Director John Keating keeps period changes fluent and comprehensible, using his staging area with variation. Two-handers featuring the girls at 15 and Fiona and Ewan are particularly well manifest.
Dialect Coach Amanda Quaid does a splendid job. Paddy Maloney’s music is immensely evocative, if a bit loud.
Fallen Angels’ mission is to produce Irish and British plays written by and about women.
Photos by Carol Rosegg Opening: Zoe Watkins, Aedin Moloney, Barrie Kreinik
Fallen Angel Theatre Company presents When I Was a Girl I Used to Scream and Shout by Sharman Macdonald Directed by John Keating Music Director/Composer – Paddy Maloney (The Chieftains) The Clurman Theater Theatre Row 410 West 42nd Street Through May 8, 2016
