A Tale of Two Plays

"It was the best of times; it was the worst of times."

I didn't expect to enjoy the new play "Indian Summer" at Playwrights Horizons as much as I did.  I have been disappointed in their much touted productions by the current batch of hot young playwrights specifically Lucas Hnath's "The Christians," Anne Washburn's" Antlia Pneumatica" and Bruce Norris's "The Qualms."  Smartly directed by Carolyn Cantor, the Gregory S. Moss play takes place in the Newburyport, Massachusetts, a summer beach destination for the middle class from New York and Boston.  It revolves around the relationships between Daniel, a 16 year old misanthrope,  who has been dumped by his mother with his quirky step-grandfather for the summer, and a local girl named Izzy.  Daniel is played with great depth by Owen Campbell and Elise Kibler as the shrill townie Izzy is a revelation, shedding layers of her brittle onion skin to create a fully nuanced portrait of a young woman caught between the life she knows and her dreams.  Izzy shakes the adolescent Daniel out of his loneliness and misanthropy and he discovers love.  Jonathan Hadary is entertaining as Daniel's widowed step-grandfather George but his character is really a device to frame and move along the play.  And Joe Tippet as Jeremy, Izzy's doltish boyfriend, provides comic relief.  Don't expect Pinter or Albee (I know, I know, "Shut up already about Pinter and Albee.") but if you want an evening of light entertainment this is an option.

Unfortunately, it was a battle to make it through the first act of Branden Jacobs-Jenkins "War" at Lincoln Center's  Claire Tow Theatre.   "An Octoroon" at Soho was a brilliant theatrical experience but he has since disappointed with "Gloria" at the Vinyard theatre but which was, at least, watchable.  Directed by Lileana Blain-Cruz, she of the dreadful "Revolt, She Said" at Soho Rep this Spring and "Red Speedo" at NYTW, the play is formulaic, dull and not enhanced by the monologues spoken directly to the audience by the coma-induced central character while the other actors crawl ape-like around the stage.  Given that the playwright is "brown" and that at least one of the ape-approximators is a white actor, I guess I am not allowed to call this out at racist, but still...  I don't want to do the actors the disservice of naming them as I think it would be best that they move on without this blemish on their resumes.  Needless to say, even after a second glass of cheap pino grigio at intermission, I did not have the resolve to return for the second act.

Have I mentioned the lovely staged reading I saw of "Letters to Sala" at the Museum of Jewish Heritage?  The play by Arlene Hutton is based on the book "Sala's Gift" by Ann Kirshner (spoiler alert: Sala's daughter) and is a stage enactment of letters that Sala received and saved while in various work camps during the Holocaust.  The reading was well directed by Eric Nightengale and beautifully acted by a large cast. Sala who is well into her 90's is still alive.  Keep your eye out for a future production.


Upcoming:  Irish Arts Center will present a Pen, Paper, and Palate event "Eating for Health, Love, Sex, and Death" on May 31st at The Half King.  There will be an esteemed panel of writers including Joel Salatin (on health), Paula Butturini (on love), Giulia Melucci (on sex), and Jon McGoran (on death), moderated by Bill Yosses, the former White House Executive Pastry Chef. And on June 7th William Doyle will read from PT 109: An American Epic of War, Survival, and the Destiny of John F. Kennedy at Irish Arts Center.  This is the paperback launch of his book, originally published in October 2015. For more info and tickets go to www.irishartscenter.org/.

Blood, Sweat and Tears

"American Psycho," based on the 25 year old best seller by Bret Easton Ellis, and directed by Rubert Goold whose most recent works on Broadway were "King Charles III" and "Enron," is one of the most joyously campy Broadway productions I have ever seen. I last saw Benjamin Walker in "Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson" at The Public where his beefy physique matched Jackson's grab-life-by-tail persona.  Here he has toned up and is all sharp edges.  The psychotic Patrick Bateman is about as far removed from the lusty young bounder Andrew Jackson as one can get.   Bateman is a serial killer disguised by day as a metrosexual Wall Street trader.  He is directionless, unhappy and, ultimately, empty.  The only way he can feel anything is in the act of killing.  The music by Duncan Sheik relies heavily on 90's dance music and the sets by Es Devlin (thankfully there is no rotating set here, something she has a penchant for) have the antiseptic feel of a high end minimalist hotel. The play is bloody, of course, and there are several entertaining performances but really the show is all Benjamin Walker who we can't tear our eyes off of.

Gillian Anderson is "A Streetcar Names Desire." Apart from her performance everything else falls away.  The production is not helped by the distracting slowly revolving stage which made me think that the set design was once again by Es Devlin who used this device in the recent "A Doll House" at BAM and "Machinal" on Broadway.  But no, this time we have Magda Willi to thank. The Young Vic production is directed by Benedict Andrews who brought the stunning production of "The Maids" with Isabelle Huppert and Cate Blanchett to the Lincoln Center Festival last summer.  Gillian Anderson certainly has the chops to play the doomed and tragic Blanche.  This Blanche is beautiful and fierce, aware that she is self-deluding until the moment she loses everything.  The other performances, which I found decent but workmanlike, faded into the revolving woodwork.  Ben Foster's much touted literally apelike performance of Stanley hardly compares with Brando's memorable turn on screen (and on stage too, I expect).  He lacks the sex-appeal that makes us understand why Stella is so drawn to him and there was little real chemistry between him and Vanessa Kirby as Stella who is missing the earthiness of Kim Hunter.  Corey Johnson as Mitch was more effecting but I can never get Karl Malden out of my head.  But "Stop the set!  I want to get off."

The delightful new Anais Mitchell musical "Hadestown" at New York Theatre Workshop is a hot ticket.  I can see it going on to a lengthier run and becoming a moneymaker for NYTW. "Hadestown" was originally an album by Ms. Mitchell. I was there on opening night and the audience was packed with beautiful young people, presumably actors, who seemed to know all the words.   The direction by Rachel Chavkin ("Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812" and "Small Mouth Sounds") was precise and perfect.  This tale of Orpheus and Eurydice could easily have been reduced to a sloppy "Godspell" wanna-be but it is tighter, deeper.  I cannot single out a performance because they all were excellent. Damon Daunno as Orpheus has a voice so similar to the late Jeff Buckley's that it's chilling and the Brazilian actress Nabiyah Be as Eurydice may just be one of then most stunningly beautiful performers to grace the New York stage.  The chorus of singer/musicians, Lulu Fall, Shaina Taub and Jessie Shelton, all of whom I have seen recently off-Broadway in different productions, form a wonderful musical coven, each unique in her own way.  The voice of Patrick Page is a low rumble like the underworld Hades he is named for and it was delicious to see Amber Gray after her turn as the lead in Branden Jacob-Jenkins' "An Octoroon"  here as Persephone.  But Chris Sullivan's Hermes comes close to stealing the night as he prances around the stage, leading the unlucky lovers to their fate.  He is the emcee to end all emcees.  If you don't know the album, I suggest you get it as that will be easier than getting a ticket to the show.  Watch out "Hamilton!"