It would seem, based on the reviews, that I am in the minority in observing that the current Broadway production of Sam Shepard's "Fool for Love" is flat and that the stars, Nina Arianda and Sam Rockwell lack even a modicum of chemistry. I saw the brilliant 1983 Circle Rep production with Will Patton and Frances Fisher with requisite sexual fireworks. Even Altman's not so great 1985 film version with Sam Shepard and Kim Basinger oozed a palpable erotic connection. "So what went wrong here?" I ask myself. Sam Rockwell is fine actor with a certain amount of sex appeal and Nina Arianda was a fabulously sensual being in "Venus in Fur" and had real pin-up girl appeal in the Broadway production of "Born Yesterday." Perhaps the direction of Daniel Aukin is at fault which seems to have them playing off anyone but each other. The only real chemistry in the play came in the scene between Eddie (Rockwell) and Martin (Tom Pelphry), May's sweet but dumb suitor. Even the Old Man (Gordon Joseph Weiss) brought more immediacy to his role. Rockwell and Arianda were oddly detached throughout. Perhaps an off night?
Ivo Van Hove's "Antigone"(translation by Anne Carson) which I saw at the BAM Harvey a couple of weeks ago was also problematic. One of the great tragic dramas of all time, it wasn't exactly flat but it felt as though the tragedy was missing. I have no complaints about the staging or design which was basically a scrim with dessert scenes projected on it and a large hole which closes at the end like an eclipse of the sun. The set itself was bare aside from a few risers and a(nother) hole in the center riser signifying a grave that rose and descended as needed. Juliet Binoche was an outstanding Antigone and Patrick O'Kane as Kreon held the stage as the real center of the drama but I never felt the immediacy of the play nor the wrench in my gut that would have made it a tragedy.
Yesterday I saw "The Christians" at Playwrights Horizons, finally succumbing to the press and hoopla around the play and playwright, Lucas Hnath. Again I was left curious unaffected. Although well-acted and nicely staged by Les Waters, I didn't find the debate about whether Christianity requires the existence of a hell and satan nor the other questions of faith addressed in the context of the play especially original. Nice singing though.
The production that really won me over in recent weeks is at the tiny Claire Tow Theatre at Lincoln Center. It's called "The Kill Floor" and is the professional debut of the playwright Abe Koogler who has had the great fortune to have Marin Ireland in his cast. The play is solid and workmanlike and well-directed by Lila Neubegauer but Ireland brings everything up a notch as Andy, an ex-drug addict recently released from prison who is trying to reconnect with her teenage son B (Nicholas L. Ashe). The only work she can find is on the "kill floor" of an abattoir where working conditions are paralyzingly sub-human. She faces seemingly insurmountable obstacles as she desperately tries to heal her relationship with her son and find a way to make connections to fill the lonely void in her life. In a parallel story the son is struggling with his own loneliness and confusion about his sexual identity. Marin Ireland is always so present in her roles that one forgets she is acting but, having seen her play such different characters as Steph in Neil LaBute's "Reasons to be Pretty," Marie Antionette in David Adjmi's play of that name at Soho Rep and Ellen in Lisa Krone's "In the Wake" at the Public Theatre, I can assure you that she has an outstanding range. I also recommend you see her in the title role of the murderously hilarious 2008 independent film "The Understudy."
uer.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Thursday, September 24, 2015
Muldoon's Rogue Oliphant Rosh Hashana
On Monday, September 14th, I attended my third Muldoon's Picnic at the Irish Arts Center which unfortunately fell on the first night of Rosh Hashana. Attendance was down as a result. Who would have thunk it? It appears there are a lot more Irish Jews in New York than I had previously thought. My own children share both heritages but I have always felt they were fairly unique in that. Is there a common bond because both cultures are carriers of the Tay-Sachs disease? But I digress.
On the menu this past Monday were the Australian novelist Peter Carey, poet Maureen N. McClane, Bill Payne of Little Feat, Muldoon's new band Rogue Oliphant (In the past he performed with the band Wayside Shrines and I believe that some of the members are the same) and, of course, the man himself, Paul Muldoon, who never ceases to entertain and astound with his spoken word poems.
Muldoon started the evening off backed by Rogue Oliphant with the rollicking and somewhat bawdy "Mrs. Oliphant" Although the real Mrs. Oliphant was the Scottish Margaret Oliphant, a late 19th century writer of domestic realism and tales of the supernatural, Muldoon's Mrs. Oliphant is presumably his own wife.
Maureen N. McClane read selections from her recent book of poems "This Blue." My favorite line of her poetry from "This Blue": The effort your life / requires exhausts me. / I am not kidding.”
She has also the author of a book and essays about troubadour history and so ended the first half of her program singing the troubadour ballad "Barbara Allen" accompanied on guitar by herself.
Peter Carey read from his novel "The True History of the Kelly Gang" which the Guardian just named in its definitive "100 best novels written in English." Carey is an engaging reader but I would have preferred him to have read something new.
Less interesting, for me at least, was the musician Bill Payne who chatted us up a bit with information about Waco, Texas from whence he hails, sang the song "Dust and Bones" written with his son Evan and recited one of his own poems.
I wasn't able to stay for the second half of the program and am sure I missed out on many more pleasures but I am looking forward to the next next Picnic which is coming up on October 12th and will feature novelist Colum McCann, poet Michael Dickman, fiddler Dan Trueman and others. For more information go to http://www.irishartscenter.org
On the menu this past Monday were the Australian novelist Peter Carey, poet Maureen N. McClane, Bill Payne of Little Feat, Muldoon's new band Rogue Oliphant (In the past he performed with the band Wayside Shrines and I believe that some of the members are the same) and, of course, the man himself, Paul Muldoon, who never ceases to entertain and astound with his spoken word poems.
Muldoon started the evening off backed by Rogue Oliphant with the rollicking and somewhat bawdy "Mrs. Oliphant" Although the real Mrs. Oliphant was the Scottish Margaret Oliphant, a late 19th century writer of domestic realism and tales of the supernatural, Muldoon's Mrs. Oliphant is presumably his own wife.
Maureen N. McClane read selections from her recent book of poems "This Blue." My favorite line of her poetry from "This Blue": The effort your life / requires exhausts me. / I am not kidding.”
She has also the author of a book and essays about troubadour history and so ended the first half of her program singing the troubadour ballad "Barbara Allen" accompanied on guitar by herself.
Peter Carey read from his novel "The True History of the Kelly Gang" which the Guardian just named in its definitive "100 best novels written in English." Carey is an engaging reader but I would have preferred him to have read something new.
Less interesting, for me at least, was the musician Bill Payne who chatted us up a bit with information about Waco, Texas from whence he hails, sang the song "Dust and Bones" written with his son Evan and recited one of his own poems.
I wasn't able to stay for the second half of the program and am sure I missed out on many more pleasures but I am looking forward to the next next Picnic which is coming up on October 12th and will feature novelist Colum McCann, poet Michael Dickman, fiddler Dan Trueman and others. For more information go to http://www.irishartscenter.org
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
BAD, BETTER, BEST
I'm back from a late summer hiatus and ready to roll!
Let us begin with the worst and work our up.
"Mercury Fur"
I am almost never disappointed with Signature's productions (let us just forget about Kenneth Lonergan's "The Medieval Play" for the moment) so I was gobsmacked by the sheer awfulness of the current production of "Mercury Fur." Written by the hot young British playwright and screenwriter of"The Reflecting Skin" Philip Ridley, the play, at 2 1/2 hours, is at least 1 1/2 hours too long. I found myself on clock watch (watch watch?) from about 20 minutes in. And NO ESCAPE! In my captivity, with no intermission and in a space not much bigger than a black box theatre, I found myself passing time contemplating the occupants of the front row tatty armchairs across the stage from me, all of them large and oddly proportioned and several of them asleep for much of the play.
What might have been a tight little one act with a bang of an ending is instead a long meandering talk-fest that ends in a whimper. If I could have understood the mumblings and slurred speech of several of the characters my interest might possibly have been retained, although I doubt it. Scott Elliott strikes again! In glancing at the program afterward I saw that he had also directed "Russian Transport" for The New Group, another long and messy play that I actually WAS able to escape during intermission. I guess he has learned his lesson with respect to intermissions.
The cast is young, very young. This might not have been a problem is any of them actually knew how to act or, at least, act with each other. Again, in glancing at the program, I noticed that few of them had any experience to speak of. The exceptions were Paul Iacono as Lola, the transgender conscience of the play, Peter Mark Kendall as the Party Guest, wired to explode, and Emily Cass McDonnell as The Duchess, the sole female actor in the cast. Ms. Cass McDonnell brought some humor with her on her arrival which was, unfortunately, more than mid-way through the play and too late to save it.
The play itself is a futuristic doomsday story of loneliness, disconnection and violence that has nothing new to to tell us.
"Scenes from an Execution"
I had high hopes for the Potomac Theatre Project's production of Howard Barker's "Scenes From An Execution"directed by Richard Romangnoli, not the least being because of it being the much-heralded final performance by Jan Maxwell, an actress I greatly admire, before she retires from the stage. I adored her in Sondheim's "Follies" on Broadway and thought she came close to saving the vapid "City of Conversation" at Lincoln Center last year. Retiring before she turns 60 seems extreme but she attributes it to a dearth of challenging and interesting parts for women of a certain age.
The 16th Century Venetian artist Galactia, however, is certainly a challenging and interested role.
Galactia, a fictional character based loosely on Artemisia Genteleschi, an artist in the style of of Caravagio, is given a huge commission by the Venetian Republic to paint an epic narrative in celebration of the Republic's victory at sea over the Ottoman Empire at Lepanto. The coarse, lusty, bull-headed and politically incorrect Galactia manages in the course of the play to destroy her relationships with her lover, her daughters, the church and the Venetian powers-that-be but perhaps, astoundingly, not her artistic reputation.
Unfortunately Maxwell screeched her way though the play. She entered at a fever pitch and never came down, even in a scene played completely in the dark. The play is historically fascinating and written with humor, wit and remarkable command of language but there was no modulation or nuance in Ms. Maxwell's performance. Having gone to see "Scenes From An Execution" out of respect for the actor I left less in awe of the actor but with a great admiration for the playwright.
"John"
Annie Baker, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
But, seriously, Annie Baker has not yet had a miss in my opinion. "John" is currently having a run at Signature Theatre. As with her other plays, "The Flick" (still on at The Barrow Street Theatre), "Circle Mirror Transformation" (Playwright's Horizons), and her adaptation of "Uncle Vanya"(Soho Rep), "John" is directed by Sam Gold. There has been much written about their collaboration and it's a great one. I would even speculate that it is hard to discern where the playwright ends and director begins.
The action takes place in an excruciatingly kitchy B&B in Gettysburg overseen by the dotty Mertis, played by Georgia Engel. A youngish couple, Jenny (Hong Chau) And Elias (Christopher Abbott), have stopped here on their way back to Brooklyn from a visit to Jenny's family in the mid-West. Elias wants to visit Gettysburg, Jenny doesn't, and both are taking a long look at their relationship. Elias visits Gettysburg and Jenny and Mertis are visited by Genevieve (Lois Smith).
As they do in "The Flick," Annie Baker and Sam Gold make much of the silences, the spaces between words, in "John." But isn't that like life? There is so much to be said in the unsaying. As a result the play, like "The Flick" runs over 3 1/2 hours (WITH an intermission, I would like to add) but it is time well spent in the company of characters who are not exactly what them seem at the outset.
The actors are all outstanding. The war-horse Lois Smith, muse to likes of Sam Shepard and Tony Kushner and whose first film was East of Eden, is marvelous as the seemingly out of her mind and out of touch Genevieve. The younger actors are good but it's really not their show. The star turn, if you want to call it that, comes from Georgia Engel, late of "The Mary Tyler Moore Show". Baker and Gold cast her in "Uncle Vanya" as Nana and she made such an impression that Baker wrote "John" for her.
The John of the title is an enigma for much of the play. But see "John" and all will be revealed.
Let us begin with the worst and work our up.
"Mercury Fur"
I am almost never disappointed with Signature's productions (let us just forget about Kenneth Lonergan's "The Medieval Play" for the moment) so I was gobsmacked by the sheer awfulness of the current production of "Mercury Fur." Written by the hot young British playwright and screenwriter of"The Reflecting Skin" Philip Ridley, the play, at 2 1/2 hours, is at least 1 1/2 hours too long. I found myself on clock watch (watch watch?) from about 20 minutes in. And NO ESCAPE! In my captivity, with no intermission and in a space not much bigger than a black box theatre, I found myself passing time contemplating the occupants of the front row tatty armchairs across the stage from me, all of them large and oddly proportioned and several of them asleep for much of the play.
What might have been a tight little one act with a bang of an ending is instead a long meandering talk-fest that ends in a whimper. If I could have understood the mumblings and slurred speech of several of the characters my interest might possibly have been retained, although I doubt it. Scott Elliott strikes again! In glancing at the program afterward I saw that he had also directed "Russian Transport" for The New Group, another long and messy play that I actually WAS able to escape during intermission. I guess he has learned his lesson with respect to intermissions.
The cast is young, very young. This might not have been a problem is any of them actually knew how to act or, at least, act with each other. Again, in glancing at the program, I noticed that few of them had any experience to speak of. The exceptions were Paul Iacono as Lola, the transgender conscience of the play, Peter Mark Kendall as the Party Guest, wired to explode, and Emily Cass McDonnell as The Duchess, the sole female actor in the cast. Ms. Cass McDonnell brought some humor with her on her arrival which was, unfortunately, more than mid-way through the play and too late to save it.
The play itself is a futuristic doomsday story of loneliness, disconnection and violence that has nothing new to to tell us.
"Scenes from an Execution"
I had high hopes for the Potomac Theatre Project's production of Howard Barker's "Scenes From An Execution"directed by Richard Romangnoli, not the least being because of it being the much-heralded final performance by Jan Maxwell, an actress I greatly admire, before she retires from the stage. I adored her in Sondheim's "Follies" on Broadway and thought she came close to saving the vapid "City of Conversation" at Lincoln Center last year. Retiring before she turns 60 seems extreme but she attributes it to a dearth of challenging and interesting parts for women of a certain age.
The 16th Century Venetian artist Galactia, however, is certainly a challenging and interested role.
Galactia, a fictional character based loosely on Artemisia Genteleschi, an artist in the style of of Caravagio, is given a huge commission by the Venetian Republic to paint an epic narrative in celebration of the Republic's victory at sea over the Ottoman Empire at Lepanto. The coarse, lusty, bull-headed and politically incorrect Galactia manages in the course of the play to destroy her relationships with her lover, her daughters, the church and the Venetian powers-that-be but perhaps, astoundingly, not her artistic reputation.
Unfortunately Maxwell screeched her way though the play. She entered at a fever pitch and never came down, even in a scene played completely in the dark. The play is historically fascinating and written with humor, wit and remarkable command of language but there was no modulation or nuance in Ms. Maxwell's performance. Having gone to see "Scenes From An Execution" out of respect for the actor I left less in awe of the actor but with a great admiration for the playwright.
"John"
Annie Baker, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
But, seriously, Annie Baker has not yet had a miss in my opinion. "John" is currently having a run at Signature Theatre. As with her other plays, "The Flick" (still on at The Barrow Street Theatre), "Circle Mirror Transformation" (Playwright's Horizons), and her adaptation of "Uncle Vanya"(Soho Rep), "John" is directed by Sam Gold. There has been much written about their collaboration and it's a great one. I would even speculate that it is hard to discern where the playwright ends and director begins.
The action takes place in an excruciatingly kitchy B&B in Gettysburg overseen by the dotty Mertis, played by Georgia Engel. A youngish couple, Jenny (Hong Chau) And Elias (Christopher Abbott), have stopped here on their way back to Brooklyn from a visit to Jenny's family in the mid-West. Elias wants to visit Gettysburg, Jenny doesn't, and both are taking a long look at their relationship. Elias visits Gettysburg and Jenny and Mertis are visited by Genevieve (Lois Smith).
As they do in "The Flick," Annie Baker and Sam Gold make much of the silences, the spaces between words, in "John." But isn't that like life? There is so much to be said in the unsaying. As a result the play, like "The Flick" runs over 3 1/2 hours (WITH an intermission, I would like to add) but it is time well spent in the company of characters who are not exactly what them seem at the outset.
The actors are all outstanding. The war-horse Lois Smith, muse to likes of Sam Shepard and Tony Kushner and whose first film was East of Eden, is marvelous as the seemingly out of her mind and out of touch Genevieve. The younger actors are good but it's really not their show. The star turn, if you want to call it that, comes from Georgia Engel, late of "The Mary Tyler Moore Show". Baker and Gold cast her in "Uncle Vanya" as Nana and she made such an impression that Baker wrote "John" for her.
The John of the title is an enigma for much of the play. But see "John" and all will be revealed.
Saturday, July 25, 2015
A Very Druid Shakespeare Marathon
Last weekend I went to The DruidShakespeare The History Plays, a seven-hour marathon of condensed versions of Richard II, Henry IV parts I & 2 and Henry V at the Gerald W. Lynch Theatre at John Jay College, part of the Lincoln Center Festival 2015.
My first quibble is with Lincoln Center in presenting the plays a good hike to the west of Lincoln Center. I would have preferred the tent in Damrosch Park (which would have been a perfect setting for these plays) or the closer John Jay Theatre that they have used in the past. Apart from it's distance from Lincoln Center, this particular theatre, though large, is characterless and antiseptic.
Although I did not, in the end, have a problem with losing some of the text (well-edited by the Irish playwright Mark O'Rowe), I did take issue with the deliberate incorporation of Irish accents. These are history plays, after all, about the English monarchy. It just didn't work for me to have both Henry's dropping their "h"'s as if they were Irish peasants.
And I did take issue with the amount of gender switching or perhaps just with the way in which it was executed. I'm fine with a woman taking on the roles of Henry VI and V but not with long hair flying and breastplates (literally "breast" plates to accentuate the fact that these were woman) which I found distracting. It was less of an issue with Aisling O'Sullivan as Henry V, her hair held back in a tight braid and for the most part dressed in unisex tunics. Derbhle Crotty at Henry IV, with her long hair (a hairpiece?) teased out and leggings that widened her slight hips, looked more like a Real Housewife of Staten Island than a 14th century king. That aside, her actual performance lacked the fire necessary to the part. Bosco Hogan as John of Gaunt in "Richard II", thrusting her chest out like a prize hen and shuffling along, simply came across as a dementia afflicted old woman. These are powerful roles and deserved to be played as such without cheapening gimmicks.
Marty Rea's doomed Richard II, however, was magnificent. His face painted white and his attire costume-like and severe, his appearance was otherworldly, like a performer in the The Pleasures of the Enchanted Isle at at Louis XIV's court of Versaille. His performance was nuanced, his line deliveries lightning quick and, although an arrogant and spoiled boy-king, he had my sympathy. I only regretted that this fine actor was not used to more effect in the later plays.
Garrett Lombard's Hotspur was also a standout as Hotspur as was Rory Nolan as Falstaff. It's always painful for me to watch Prince Hal's rejection of Falstaff in "Henry IV, Part II" and the great man's decline when his heart is broken.
I would happily go to a Druid Marathon of "Henry VII", Parts I, 2, 3 and "Richard III", but perhaps they can add the "h''s back in for the next round. And bring back the tent!
My first quibble is with Lincoln Center in presenting the plays a good hike to the west of Lincoln Center. I would have preferred the tent in Damrosch Park (which would have been a perfect setting for these plays) or the closer John Jay Theatre that they have used in the past. Apart from it's distance from Lincoln Center, this particular theatre, though large, is characterless and antiseptic.
Although I did not, in the end, have a problem with losing some of the text (well-edited by the Irish playwright Mark O'Rowe), I did take issue with the deliberate incorporation of Irish accents. These are history plays, after all, about the English monarchy. It just didn't work for me to have both Henry's dropping their "h"'s as if they were Irish peasants.
And I did take issue with the amount of gender switching or perhaps just with the way in which it was executed. I'm fine with a woman taking on the roles of Henry VI and V but not with long hair flying and breastplates (literally "breast" plates to accentuate the fact that these were woman) which I found distracting. It was less of an issue with Aisling O'Sullivan as Henry V, her hair held back in a tight braid and for the most part dressed in unisex tunics. Derbhle Crotty at Henry IV, with her long hair (a hairpiece?) teased out and leggings that widened her slight hips, looked more like a Real Housewife of Staten Island than a 14th century king. That aside, her actual performance lacked the fire necessary to the part. Bosco Hogan as John of Gaunt in "Richard II", thrusting her chest out like a prize hen and shuffling along, simply came across as a dementia afflicted old woman. These are powerful roles and deserved to be played as such without cheapening gimmicks.
Marty Rea's doomed Richard II, however, was magnificent. His face painted white and his attire costume-like and severe, his appearance was otherworldly, like a performer in the The Pleasures of the Enchanted Isle at at Louis XIV's court of Versaille. His performance was nuanced, his line deliveries lightning quick and, although an arrogant and spoiled boy-king, he had my sympathy. I only regretted that this fine actor was not used to more effect in the later plays.
Garrett Lombard's Hotspur was also a standout as Hotspur as was Rory Nolan as Falstaff. It's always painful for me to watch Prince Hal's rejection of Falstaff in "Henry IV, Part II" and the great man's decline when his heart is broken.
I would happily go to a Druid Marathon of "Henry VII", Parts I, 2, 3 and "Richard III", but perhaps they can add the "h''s back in for the next round. And bring back the tent!
Thursday, July 2, 2015
"The Way We Get By" and "The Taming of the Shrew"
"The Way We Get By"
I saw the delightful Neil LaBute play "The Way We Get By" at The Second Stage for it's next to last performance on June 21st. Yes, I did write "delightful." I had debated going to see it for several reasons, the primary one being that, although I loved "Reasons To Be Pretty" on Broadway in large part because of the stunning performance by Marin Ireland (readers of this blog will know that I am a huge fan), in general, and along with the rest of the theatre-going community I find LaBute's work to be misogynistic. I also am not a fan of The Second Stage where I have seen a number of disappointing revivals, like last year's star-studded "The Substance of Fire," and works by critically-lauded playwrights whom I find derivative, Sarah Ruhl being a prime example.
Directed by Leigh Silverman who directed the Obie Award winning "In The Wake" at the Public theatre (which also starred Marin Ireland, I might add), the action of the play, set in the living room of a small New York apartment, is just claustrophobic enough to not suffocate as the actors circle each other in a complicated mating dance that promises to never end.
I also had not been keen to see a two-person play with a film/television actress, Amanda Seyfried, who had had no previous theatrical experience. Boy, was I wrong. Seyfried's co-star in "The Way We Get By" is Thomas Sadoski, he of "Reasons to be Pretty" and also HBO's "The Newsroom." Sadoski is always solid and brings nuance to the roles he plays on stage. He did so here, at moments breaking my heart and at others making me want to wring his neck. I would like to say that he carried her along but that would not be accurate. Seyfried more than held her own creating a convincing portrait of a young woman who is not too deep but not without depth either, unmoored but aware of the distance to the shore.
"The Way We Get By" is a relationship play that takes place in the aftermath of a one-night stand. But as the play progresses it is as if we are peeling an onion, as layers and layers of connections come to light and complications abound. Are these two meant to be together? We're never sure. Since the play has closed, you'll have to wait for the movie (which I'm sure there'll be) to draw your own conclusions. And Dear Readers, let me add for the record, no misogyny there.
"The Taming of the Shrew"
Last night I went to the final Prospect Park performance of the The New York Classic Theatre's "The Taming of the Shrew." The classically-trained performers brought a playful spirit to the production as they led the audience from location to location like a group of wandering minstrels. Performances that stood out were Maxon Davis's incredibly magnetic Petruchio, Beethovan Oden's comically adept portrayal of Hortensio,and Nick Salamon's befuddled Bastista. I was especially impressed by Amy Hutchins who had just seamlessly stepped into the role of Katherina, replacing another actress.
The New York Classic Theatre has become one of my new go-tos for Shakespeare in New York and the current production did not disappoint, although there is a reason that the play is not often mounted. Feminists beware!
You still have time to catch "The Taming of the Shrew" in various parks around the city as well as their "Measure for Measure." Go to their website newyorkclassical.org for their full schedule or look for their page on Facebook.
I saw the delightful Neil LaBute play "The Way We Get By" at The Second Stage for it's next to last performance on June 21st. Yes, I did write "delightful." I had debated going to see it for several reasons, the primary one being that, although I loved "Reasons To Be Pretty" on Broadway in large part because of the stunning performance by Marin Ireland (readers of this blog will know that I am a huge fan), in general, and along with the rest of the theatre-going community I find LaBute's work to be misogynistic. I also am not a fan of The Second Stage where I have seen a number of disappointing revivals, like last year's star-studded "The Substance of Fire," and works by critically-lauded playwrights whom I find derivative, Sarah Ruhl being a prime example.
Directed by Leigh Silverman who directed the Obie Award winning "In The Wake" at the Public theatre (which also starred Marin Ireland, I might add), the action of the play, set in the living room of a small New York apartment, is just claustrophobic enough to not suffocate as the actors circle each other in a complicated mating dance that promises to never end.
I also had not been keen to see a two-person play with a film/television actress, Amanda Seyfried, who had had no previous theatrical experience. Boy, was I wrong. Seyfried's co-star in "The Way We Get By" is Thomas Sadoski, he of "Reasons to be Pretty" and also HBO's "The Newsroom." Sadoski is always solid and brings nuance to the roles he plays on stage. He did so here, at moments breaking my heart and at others making me want to wring his neck. I would like to say that he carried her along but that would not be accurate. Seyfried more than held her own creating a convincing portrait of a young woman who is not too deep but not without depth either, unmoored but aware of the distance to the shore.
"The Way We Get By" is a relationship play that takes place in the aftermath of a one-night stand. But as the play progresses it is as if we are peeling an onion, as layers and layers of connections come to light and complications abound. Are these two meant to be together? We're never sure. Since the play has closed, you'll have to wait for the movie (which I'm sure there'll be) to draw your own conclusions. And Dear Readers, let me add for the record, no misogyny there.
"The Taming of the Shrew"
Last night I went to the final Prospect Park performance of the The New York Classic Theatre's "The Taming of the Shrew." The classically-trained performers brought a playful spirit to the production as they led the audience from location to location like a group of wandering minstrels. Performances that stood out were Maxon Davis's incredibly magnetic Petruchio, Beethovan Oden's comically adept portrayal of Hortensio,and Nick Salamon's befuddled Bastista. I was especially impressed by Amy Hutchins who had just seamlessly stepped into the role of Katherina, replacing another actress.
The New York Classic Theatre has become one of my new go-tos for Shakespeare in New York and the current production did not disappoint, although there is a reason that the play is not often mounted. Feminists beware!
You still have time to catch "The Taming of the Shrew" in various parks around the city as well as their "Measure for Measure." Go to their website newyorkclassical.org for their full schedule or look for their page on Facebook.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
"10 Out of "12" is a 12, qualms about "The Qualms" and no glory for "Gloria"
"10 Out of 12" at The Soho Rep made me think about two great French films about filmmaking, "Day For Night" and "Irma Vep." If one really really loves movies then these two films cannot fail to captivate. Well, I really really love theatre and Anne Washburn's engrossing new play at The Soho Rep had the same effect on me. Perhaps to have been a part of that world makes the experience that much richer, but not having been so should not detract from one's enjoyment of the play.
The play takes place during the long hours of the final tech rehearsal for a macabre unnamed historical play (think Poe, for example) at the Soho Rep. We, the audience, are outfitted with a listening device and can hear all the backstage prattle from the stage crew, sometimes relevant to the production but often as mundane as a description of the sandwich brought for the long hours ahead. The actors go in an out of character in the stop-and-go rhythm of the rehearsal as the director and his assistant move through the audience and across the stage.
As the rehearsal progresses we see the subtle do-se-do of relationships among the cast and crew. Artistic temperaments flair up, accidents occur and the show does go on.
As is the norm for pretty much everything I have seen at The Soho Rep, the writing is risky, the performances are pitch-perfect and the direction is seamless.
As for "The Qualms" at Playwright's Horizons the new play by Bruce Norris of the Tony-winning "Clybourne Park" fame, apart from an exceptional performance by Jeremy Schamus, the play is derivative, a poor man's (or woman's) Pinter or Albee. I was not a fan of "Clybourne Park" (been there, seen that) but I know I was in the minority so, I expect if you liked that, then "The Qualms will appeal to you as well.
Branden Jacob-Jenkins new play "Gloria" at The Vineyard Theatre is a disappointment as well. Readers of this blog will know that I was a huge fan of his play "An Octoroon" which I saw at The Soho Rep and then again at Theatre for a New Audience in Brooklyn. That play was audacious in the way it experimented with space and time and addressed race and class. "Gloria" strives for much less.
The play takes place during the long hours of the final tech rehearsal for a macabre unnamed historical play (think Poe, for example) at the Soho Rep. We, the audience, are outfitted with a listening device and can hear all the backstage prattle from the stage crew, sometimes relevant to the production but often as mundane as a description of the sandwich brought for the long hours ahead. The actors go in an out of character in the stop-and-go rhythm of the rehearsal as the director and his assistant move through the audience and across the stage.
As the rehearsal progresses we see the subtle do-se-do of relationships among the cast and crew. Artistic temperaments flair up, accidents occur and the show does go on.
As is the norm for pretty much everything I have seen at The Soho Rep, the writing is risky, the performances are pitch-perfect and the direction is seamless.
As for "The Qualms" at Playwright's Horizons the new play by Bruce Norris of the Tony-winning "Clybourne Park" fame, apart from an exceptional performance by Jeremy Schamus, the play is derivative, a poor man's (or woman's) Pinter or Albee. I was not a fan of "Clybourne Park" (been there, seen that) but I know I was in the minority so, I expect if you liked that, then "The Qualms will appeal to you as well.
Branden Jacob-Jenkins new play "Gloria" at The Vineyard Theatre is a disappointment as well. Readers of this blog will know that I was a huge fan of his play "An Octoroon" which I saw at The Soho Rep and then again at Theatre for a New Audience in Brooklyn. That play was audacious in the way it experimented with space and time and addressed race and class. "Gloria" strives for much less.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
I'm a Sucker for an Annie Baker Play
So I saw Annie Baker's "The Flick" at the Barrow Street Theatre last week and, as usual when I see one of her plays ("Circle Mirror Transformation" at Playwrites Horizons, her translation of "Uncle Vanya"at the Soho Rep), had the satisfaction of seeing exceptional theatre. The play takes place in a Massachusettes movie theatre where three employees cycle between taking tickets, selling concessions, working the projector and, for the time they are on stage, cleaning the theatre.
Rose, Sam and Avery are a sad-sacky bunch. Rose, played by Louise Krause, seems at first like a disaffected punk, all snarky and dark-humored. Matthew Mayher's Sam is in his mid-thirties has no direction in life beyond pride in his current menial job. Avery, the very fine young actor Aaron Clifton Moren, is a black college student and son of a university professer, whose psychological problems have caused him to take a hiatis from school. As a film nut with a seemingly endless store of movie trivia on tap, he propels the action of the play forward. Slowly, the characters reveal more about themselves and begin to connect as they metaphorically dance around each other.
This is one of the last remaining movie theatres in Massachusettes that actually show films on celluloid which is what has attracted Avery to work here, sweeping popcorn off the floor and scraping gum off seats. But the new owner plans to digitilize and Avery will be left rudderless once more. Small dramas are played out over the course of the three plus hours but the play is really about so much: race, class, love, longing, loss and the inevitable march of time.
"The Flick" is three hours long and the theatre is small and not air-conditioned. During much of the play there is silence on stage and what dialogue there is often fragmented as in real life. The New York Times critic Charles Isherwood makes a point in his review of saying that the play is difficult to sit through for some people; both times he saw it there were people who either walked out during the play or left at intermission. I only wish that the enormously tall, wide and fidgety man sitting in front of me had done so.
Rose, Sam and Avery are a sad-sacky bunch. Rose, played by Louise Krause, seems at first like a disaffected punk, all snarky and dark-humored. Matthew Mayher's Sam is in his mid-thirties has no direction in life beyond pride in his current menial job. Avery, the very fine young actor Aaron Clifton Moren, is a black college student and son of a university professer, whose psychological problems have caused him to take a hiatis from school. As a film nut with a seemingly endless store of movie trivia on tap, he propels the action of the play forward. Slowly, the characters reveal more about themselves and begin to connect as they metaphorically dance around each other.
This is one of the last remaining movie theatres in Massachusettes that actually show films on celluloid which is what has attracted Avery to work here, sweeping popcorn off the floor and scraping gum off seats. But the new owner plans to digitilize and Avery will be left rudderless once more. Small dramas are played out over the course of the three plus hours but the play is really about so much: race, class, love, longing, loss and the inevitable march of time.
"The Flick" is three hours long and the theatre is small and not air-conditioned. During much of the play there is silence on stage and what dialogue there is often fragmented as in real life. The New York Times critic Charles Isherwood makes a point in his review of saying that the play is difficult to sit through for some people; both times he saw it there were people who either walked out during the play or left at intermission. I only wish that the enormously tall, wide and fidgety man sitting in front of me had done so.
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