Fallen Angels

B-

This early play by Noel Coward, now in previews at Roundabout’s Todd Haimes Theatre, is definitely one of his minor works. When it first played Broadway in 1927, it only ran for 36 performances. It has more slapstick and less wit than I associate with Coward. Nevertheless, it provides three juicy roles for actresses and can be featherweight fun at its best moments. Julia Sterroll (Kelli O’Hara) and Jane Banbury (Rose Byrne) are friends since childhood who now live with their respective husbands of several years Fred (Aasif Mandvi) and Willy (Christopher Fitzgerald) on different floors of the same building. The Sterrolls have a new maid, Saunders (Tracee Chimo), who is a voluble expert on any topic that arises. The heat of passion has long since been extinguished in their marriages. On the morning that their husbands are leaving for a weekend golf trip, the two wives each receive a postcard from Maurice Duclos (Mark Consuelos), a Frenchman with whom each had an affair before her marriage, announcing that he is arriving in London imminently. After an initial urge to flee to avoid testing their unresolved feelings for him, they change their minds and decide to face him and see what happens. They dress for dinner and jump at each phone call, hoping it will be from him. The humor at the center of the play is entirely based on the effects of drunkenness, which I find a low form of humor. After many cocktails and too much champagne, the two wives get very drunk and let all their rivalries and grievances come out. Mayhem ensues. When Maurice finally arrives, it is almost anticlimactic. The women get the better deal here. O’Hara and Byrne both turn out to be experts at pratfalls and other physical comedy. In the first scene, I had trouble understanding Byrne, who speaks very rapidly. Chimo is a delightful scene stealer. As the husbands, Mandvi and Fitzgerald don’t really have much to do except to act smug and entitled. Consuelos still shows traces of the red hot lover of their dreams. David Rockwell’s set design is an Art Deco knockout. Jeff Mahshie’s gowns are gorgeous. Director Scott Ellis shows an affinity for the material. Taken as sheer fluff, the play somewhat succeeds. The audience seemed to be loving it. If there’s any message, I suppose it’s that men shouldn’t take their wives for granted. Running time: 90 minutes, no intermission.

Death of a Salesman

A for acting
B for play
C for production

I bring bad news, good news and not-so-good news.

Bad news first. I had misgivings when I learned the producers of the latest revival of Arthur Miller’s iconic 1949 play had selected the Winter Garden as their theater. Both the stage and the auditorium are extremely wide, far more suitable for a spectacle than an intimate family drama. When I entered the theater, my misgivings were more than justified. In Chloe Lamford’s scenic design, the enormous stage resembled an abandoned garage or warehouse with square pillars covered in cinder block and a few pieces of metal furniture scattered here and there. A large garage door dominated the back wall. Everything was painted in a dark gray that could be the color of gloom. Fog is rolling in from offstage. The set practically shouted “Nothing happy is going to take place here.” It also unmoored the play from Miller’s very specific instructions that gave it a place and time – Brooklyn in the late ‘40s when apartment houses were springing up around two-family houses, blocking the air and light, and when the age of travelling salesmen was ending and company loyalty was on the wane. My guess is that the intent was to make the play seem more universal and more brutal, but for me the way to universality is to get the details right. When the play begins, the huge garage door opens and Willy drives in at the wheel of WHAT? – a 1964 Chevy that didn't roll of the assembly until 15 years after the play was written! The play mentions that his current car is a Studebaker, but his fond memories are of the ’28 Chevy he owned that his sons loved to polish. I guess a ’28 Chevy wouldn’t look good on a billboard or Playbill cover. All this may sound petty, but starting the play on a false note is not a good way to begin. By the way, the car sits there for almost the entire play. Except for throwing out the staging instructions, casting separate actors for the young sons, which has been justified by early versions of the script and making a few very minor cuts, director Joe Mantello sticks to the text and lets the tragic tale unwind. Even with the cuts, the play runs for almost three hours.

Now for the good news. The acting is top-notch. The four leading roles of Willy Loman (Nathan Lane), Linda Loman (Laurie Metcalf), Biff Loman (Christopher Abbott) and Happy Loman (Ben Ahlers) are superbly played. The men play it big while Metcalf takes a somewhat quieter approach. The supporting roles of Young Biff (Joaquin Consuelos), Young Happy (Jake Termine), Young Bernard (Karl Green), The Woman (Tasha Lawrence), Charley (K. Todd Freeman), Uncle Ben (Jonathan Cake), Howard Wagner (John Drea), Bernard (Michael Benjamin Washington), Stanley (Jake Silbermann), Miss Forsythe (Katherine Romans) and Letta (Mary Neely) are also all well played. Unless you have been hiding under a rock, you already know the plot. The big moments still work. Linda’s act one monologue is still gripping. Willy’s scene begging his boss for a New York job is still excruciating to watch. Willy and Biff’s big scene together is the emotional heart of the play, bringing many a tear. Only Linda’s final words did not achieve maximum impact for me in this staging. There seemed to be a subtle shift in the play that emphasized Biff at Linda’s expense. Kudos to Rudy Mance for the wonderful period costumes.

And now for the not-so-good news. The play itself has not aged well. It has never been my favorite Miller play – I’ll take View from the Bridge or All My Sons -- and it has problems that were more apparent to me this time out. The interweaving of timelines and actual conversations with imagined ones no longer seems daringly experimental. The frequency of the expressions of delusional hopes becomes wearisome. One major question hovers over the play that has always bothered me. Since the play is set in the late 1940’s -- the introduction of the wire recorder as a consumer item clearly establishes that – where were Biff and Happy during WWII? Surely two such strapping lads would have been drafted. Is it possible that they served but their service had so little effect on them that it is never mentioned? Another puzzler is why is Willy so reluctant to take the job that Charley repeatedly offers? Why is he happy to let Charley support him surreptitiously but won’t work for him? Just asking.

Running time: Just under three hours including intermission.
 

Becky Shaw

A-

I had seen Second Stage’s original production in 2009 but only remembered two things about it: 1) the title character does not appear until late in the first act; 2) another character, superbly played by David Wilson Barnes in that production, was one of the most entertainingly loathsome people I had ever seen on a stage. He made me hate him but also miss him every minute he wasn’t onstage. As Max Garrett, Alden Ehrenreich may not quite reach the heights – or depths – that Barnes reached, but he comes close enough. Nearly everything he utters is at least borderline abusive, but presented so wittily that you almost forgive him and beg for more. The wonderful Linda Emond shines as Susan Slater, the woman who took him in when he was 10 and raised him. She is also a straight shooter who has no tolerance for sentiment. Lauren Patten is very good as her sourpuss mid-30s daughter Suzanna who is emotionally dependent on Max. In the less showy role of her husband, Andrew Porter, Patrick Ball makes a fine, empathetic good guy whose goodness may not be a blessing. Finally, there is our enigmatic title character, well played by Madeline Brewer, who is either a mousy sad sack or a master manipulator or both. The play has an interesting structure – a first act with two long scenes, the first in New York, the second in Providence, and a second act with six short scenes alternating between Providence and Boston and a final longer scene in Richmond. The play opens four months after the death of the Slater paterfamilias, who has left behind financial chaos and a surprising secret. Suzanna can’t stop mourning, while Susan has moved on to vacationing in Key West with a gigolo. Max attempts to pull Suzanna out of her sorrow to reengage with life. He suggests she try skiing. Eight months later, she has a shiny new husband that she met on a ski trip. When the newlyweds decide to fix Max up on a blind date with Becky Shaw, a temp in Andrew’s office, we get a vivid demonstration of the adage that no good deed goes unpunished. Playwright Gina Gionfriddo’s dialogue is continually snappy, her characters are vivid, and there was more laughter than I had heard in a theater in a long time. Some of the laughs came at times that puzzled me -- it was as if the audience had decided to provide a laugh track to the play. Ball, Brewer and Ehrenreich are all making promising Broadway debuts. David Zinn’s minimalist scenic design astonished me with a lavish set change for the final scene. Kaye Voyce’s costumes are apt. The songs played between scenes are well-chosen. Trip Cullman’s direction is well-paced. All in all it was a very entertaining afternoon and I predict it will be one of the season’s hits. I don’t have a clue what message I am supposed to take away from it, but just being entertained is sometimes enough. Running time: two hours 30 minutes including intermission.

Giant

 

 

A

To say that Mark Rosenblatt’s play about Roald Dahl is timely would be a gross understatement. In 1983 Dahl’s review of a photo book about the Israeli bombing of Lebanon crossed the line from moral indignation to anti-Semitism, holding all Jews responsible for Israel’s actions. If we added the word Gaza to Lebanon, this story might have been ripped from today’s headlines. The perplexing question of whether anti-Zionism is anti-Semitism is still debated today. This fact-based drama presents a version of what happened when Dahl’s publishers tried to get him to issue an apology so that sales of his upcoming book The Witches would not suffer. I usually try to avoid spoilers, but the events are mostly a matter of public record. We meet Dahl (John Lithgow) in a lively discussion of the book’s proofs with his British publisher Tom Maschler (Elliot Levey) while they await the arrival of Jessie Stone (Aya Cash), a mid-level sales executive from his American publisher. Felicity (Rachael Stirling), Dahl’s fiancée and former mistress for the last 11 years of his 30-year marriage to Patricia Neal, is preparing lunch. Our first sense that things might not be quite right is when Dahl asks Maschler what “your lot” think about something. When Jessie arrives, she tells Dahl that she is a great fan and asks him to sign a book for her son. The momentary good feelings evaporate when Dahl abruptly asks Stone whether she is a Jew. This sets off an ever-escalating argument over Jewish identity, what responsibility Jews worldwide bear for what Israel does, and what is simply a cover for deep-rooted British anti-Semitism. Felicity tries to play the role of peacemaker with little success. The author is to be credited for giving complexity its due, for not offering easy answers and for not presenting Dahl as a monster. Moments of charm and humor peek through from time to time and Lithgow brilliantly captures how Dahl’s mood can change in a split second. Except for Jessie Stone, the four leading characters are based on real people. Jessie turns out to be a worthy disputant who holds her own against Dahl. They share a brief moment of mutual compassion discussing their brain-injured sons. Dahl keeps trying to drag their young cook Hallie (Stella Everett) into the argument, but she wisely eludes his attempts. He shares a relaxed conversation with his gardener Wally (David Manis) that briefly lowers the temperature and humanizes him. After much “civilized” passive-aggressive back and forth, Dahl seemingly agrees to make an apology but as soon as he is alone he calls a reporter from the New Statesman and gives him an interview that digs him into an even deeper hole and removes any ambiguity about his true feelings. The author has incorporated the actual words of Dahl’s book review and his telephone interview into the text. The main reason to see the show is Lithgow, who creates a complex character about whom it is nigh impossible not to have mixed feelings. We bump against the age-old dispute of whether you can separate the art from the artist. The other actors are excellent, but he is first among equals. Bob Crowley’s set gives us a rather ugly, mustard-walled living room under construction, with plastic sheets covering much of the room including the entire back wall. Perhaps the intent is to show how exposed Dahl is or how big a transition he is going through with his fiancée. Nicholas Hytner’s direction is exemplary. The title might refer either to Dahl's great height (6 ft 6 in) or to his position as an author of children's literature. Although the play makes the incident sound career-destroying, Dahl went on to enjoy many awards and successes. I guarantee that this is a play that will give you lots to talk about afterwards. Running time: two hours 20 minutes.

THEATER TIP: If you go to a Broadway theater for a winter Tuesday performance, dress warmly. The theater has been unheated since the Sunday matinee and takes a while to warm up.

Just in Time

 

A

From the minute I entered the auditorium at Circle in the Square to see Just in Time, my spirits lifted. The far end of the oval had been truncated and replaced by a beautiful Art Deco bandstand and the central floor was filled with softly lit tables for two, creating the illusion of a swanky midcentury nightclub. When three chorus girls in skimpy sequined dresses appeared to greet the star arising from a hidden stage elevator, the effect was complete. And what a star – the irresistible, inexhaustible Jonathan Groff. He introduces himself and says “I’m your Bobby Darin tonight” and comments that the surroundings are “not bad for the basement of Wicked.” Surprisingly, he sings the title song at the top of the show as he smoothly slips into the role of Darin and begins the tale of his rise from a sickly child raised by a single mother in East Harlem to an international movie and nightclub star, to his fall from favor, his comeback and his untimely death at 37. Along the way, we meet the women in his life --  Polly Walden (Michelle Pawk), the former vaudeville singer who raised him and urged him to become a performer and live to the fullest despite his doctor’s prediction that he would not live to see 16; Nina (Emily Bergl), whose sisterly admonitions to live cautiously constantly annoy him; Connie Francis (Sarah Hyland), his first love; and Sandra Dee (Sadie Dickerson), whom he marries, has a son by, and then divorces. Joe Barbara plays his brother-in-law Charlie, whom he recruits to be his valet. Caesar Samayoa and Lance Roberts play several figures in the music business who are tied to Darin. I must not forget the three energetic Sirens (Valeria Yamin, Claire Camp and Julia Grondin) in their glittery costumes. I cannot comment how closely Groff, Hyland and Dickerson resemble their characters vocally, but they sing beautifully. Pawk and Bergl have fine voices too. The song list includes both songs that Darin wrote such as “Splish Splash,” “Dream Lover” and “18 Yellow Roses” and songs he covered including “Mack the Knife” and “Beyond the Sea.” Groff is such a genial presence, that it’s a shock when, as Darin, he does something nasty like sending his brother-in-law to tell Sandra Dee that he wants a divorce or verbally abusing Nina when he learns a long-held family secret. Warren Leight and Isaac Oliver are credited for the book, based on an original concept by Ted Chapin. The gorgeous set by Derek McLane, wonderful costumes by Catherine Zuber, glamorous lighting by Justin Townsend, lively choreography by Shannon Lewis, great musicians and seamless direction by Alex Timbers, combined with the excellent performances, all fit together like the pieces of a fine Swiss watch. The price of a ticket can be almost as expensive too – on the night I attended, the top price for a cabaret table seat was $977 or $777 for a regular seat. (I had no problem seeing or hearing from my $189 seat in Row K.) I expect that prices will drop sharply at the end of the month when Groff leaves the show. Matthew Morrison has the unenviable task of filling in for three weeks before Jeremy Jordan takes over the role. It will be interesting to see how well the show holds up without Groff. After the elaborate production number that replaces the traditional curtain call, the entertainment continued. Groff took the stage to make a personal appeal for the traditional Red Bucket campaign to raise money for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Then Groff began a live auction for a bowtie he wore during the performance, promising a kickline with two of the Sirens for each thousand bid. After two bids of $3,000 and three kicks, two bidders were tied. Emily Bergl magically produced a second bowtie which she rubbed against Groff’s sweaty neck so both bidders could go home happy. Unsurprisingly, one of the two successful bidders was seated at a cabaret table. I guess if you can afford $2000 for a pair of tickets, what’s $3,000 more for a souvenir? Running time: two hours 15 minutes including intermission.

The Unknown

B-

This 70-minute monologue by David Cale has been described as a thriller, but I think that overstates the case. While I was surprised or amused at some of its twists and turns, my heart was never pounding, nor was I ever at the edge of my uncomfortable seat (more about that later). Better to think of it as a showcase for the prodigious talent of its star, Sean Hayes. As “Promises, Promises” and “Good Night, Oscar” already proved, Hayes has come a long way from playing Jack, the uber-gay friend on “Will and Grace.” The main role of Elliott, our narrator, is not actually that big a stretch for him. He’s a gay marginally successful playwright/screenwriter/songwriter with writer’s block, who lives in the West Village and frequents Julius’ Bar. He also plays several other roles including his best friend and his friend’s wife, his alleged stalker and alleged stalker’s alleged identical twin, and their older brother. His speech patterns and postures make each one clearly separate. The phrase “I wish you wanted me,” a line from a song Elliott had written, keeps turning up in disturbing places, including his bathroom mirror after a night with a goodlooking young Texan who may have drugged his drink at Julius’. He finds the Texan’s picture amidst a pile of headshots of actors turned down for his latest musical. Instead of going to the police, he decides to turn the tables and stalk his stalker, hoping thereby to find material for a new screenplay. Complications follow. Although I enjoyed watching Hayes demonstrate his craft, my interest in the plot gradually diminished and I was underwhelmed by the ending. The set is a bare stage, but Studio Bent gets a credit for scenic design. Hayes’ typical street clothes earn Sarah Laux a credit as costume designer. The contributions by lighting designer, Cha See, and sound designer, Caroline Eng, are more significant to the production. The direction by Leigh Silverman is fluid. Fans of Hayes will have a good time. Just don’t go expecting thrills and chills.

GRIPES: When Studio Seaview took over the former Terry Kiser Theater, I hoped that they might make some improvements. Alas, aside from a few velvet curtains, all is as before. The seats still have very thin foam padding with the narrowest armrests in New York. Instead of full credits, the program has a QR code to press to find biographies of cast and crew. With tickets approaching $200, I think they could spring for a proper program. Worst of all, the central staircase is still an accident waiting to happen with no handrails to grab.
 
 

Two Strangers Carry a Cake Across New York

A-

The small-scale musical seems to be having its moment on Broadway. Last season brought us Maybe Happy Ending, which won several Tonys, and now we have this two-hander one-set import from London via Cambridge (the one in Massachusetts), which apparently took seven producers and 28 co-producers to bring to Broadway. It’s a sweet story about two twenty-somethings who are adrift in different ways. Dougal (Sam Tutty) is a British theater usher who lives with his mother and watches too many Hollywood movies. Before he was born, his father Mark, whom he has never met but whom he has often fantasized about, took off for America and became a millionaire. Now Dougal has surprisingly been invited to New York to attend his father’s wedding to a woman 27 years his junior. Melissa, the bride, has delegated her younger sister Robin (Phoenix Best, u/s for Christiani Pitts) to pick him up at the airport. Robin, a barista, is as buttoned-up and guarded as Dougal is spontaneous and boundary-less. He wants her to join him as he crams as much sightseeing as possible into his 48 hours in New York, but she isn’t interested. Melissa has also given Robin the task of picking up the wedding cake but, strangely, has not invited her to the wedding. (It’s hard to believe that a bakery would not deliver a $2000 wedding cake, but I willingly suspended my disbelief.) After their errand goes awry, Robin gives into Dougal’s relentless enthusiasm, and, courtesy of Mark’s credit card, they spend a night on the town during which Robin reveals some disturbing secrets. They nurse their hangovers and go their separate ways the day of the wedding but are reunited that night shortly before Dougal’s return flight to London. The show’s main attraction is Tutty, winner of an Olivier for playing the title character in Evan Hansen; this role fits him like a glove. His irrepressible good cheer is infectious. I hope we will be seeing more of him. I was disappointed to catch an understudy for Robin, but it is hard to imagine the role better played. Kudos to Sutra Gilmour for designing a clever set based on a revolving turntable that starts as a baggage claim area with the conveyor belt surrounding huge piles of oversized silver suitcases that transform to a variety of locations including a coffee shop, a subway car, a room at the Plaza and a Chinatown restaurant. The large “Baggage Claim” sign overhead when the show opens doesn’t just apply to the luggage. Jim Barne and Kit Buchan wrote the book, lyrics and music, which I list in decreasing order of effectiveness. The music serves the story well enough but is not memorable. Occasionally, the blast of electronic sound was loud enough to set off the noise alert on my smartphone. Tim Jackson does fine work as both director and choreographer. I had put off seeing the show, because the description sounded too precious for my taste. It turned out not to be. Although stopping to think about the plot for very long is likely to reveal the holes in it, while you are watching the show, it all seems possible. I enjoyed myself and understood why the show has been playing to packed houses with a lot young people in the enthusiastic audience. Running time: two hours 15 minutes including intermission.