Moscow, Moscow, Moscow, Moscow, Moscow, Moscow

B-

Poor Chekhov! Playwrights just can’t seem to resist putting their own stamp on his plays. Last month we got an encore run of Life Sucks., Aaron Posner’s quirky riff on Uncle Vanya. Now MCC Theater is presenting the New York premiere of Halley Feiffer’s (The Pain of My Belligerence, I’m Gonna Pray for You So Hard) deconstruction of Three Sisters, which played at Wiiliamstown Theatre Festival two summers ago. Of the two adaptations, Feiffer’s is by far the more entertaining and is probably the truer to Chekhov. Feiffer gives us the original characters in exaggerated versions who leave no thought unsaid. The dialogue is anachronistic, coarse and often very funny. Feiffer daringly makes each sister so unsympathetic in her opening monologue that it is not easy to win our sympathy; she mostly succeeds at meeting this challenge. This production dials up the volume with provocative casting involving bending gender, changing race and introducing dwarfism. Somehow it works, probably because the actors are so convincing in their roles. Rebecca Henderson’s (The Wayside Motor Inn) Olga raises self-deprecation to an art form. Chris Perfetti (The Low Road) is so persuasive as Masha that it seems completely unremarkable for the role to be played by a man. Tavi Gevinson (This Is Our Youth, Days of Rage) captures both Irina’s allure and her aimlessness. As their feckless brother Andrey, Greg Hildreth (The Robber Bridegroom) is appropriately conflicted. Sas Goldberg (Significant Other) smoothly accomplishes the transformation of Natasha from target of scorn to tyrant. Steven Boyer (Hand to God, Time and the Conways) is tender and pathetic as Irina’s suitor Tuzenbach. Casting Solyony with a dwarf, the excellent Matthew Jeffers (Light Shining in Buckinghamshire), makes the universal scorn he receives even more uncomfortable. Alfredo Narciso (Time and the Conways) makes Vershinin both sexy and pitiful. As Masha’s husband Kulygin, Ryan Spahn (Gloria) is appropriately irritating. Ray Anthony Thomas (Jitney) brings pathos to the role of Dr. Chebutykin. Ako (God Said This) makes a strong impression as the family’s ancient servant Anfisa. As minor civil servant Ferapont, Gene Jones (The Trip to Bountiful) is aptly bumbling. The humor of the first act is less in evidence after intermission. By the end, we are more saddened than amused. Director Trip Cullman (Choir Boy, Lobby Hero), Feiffer’s frequent collaborator, shows great affinity for her sensibility. The production shows off MCC’s black box theater to great advantage. With the audience sitting on facing sides of the raised stage platform, no one is more than four rows from the actors. The key visual element of Mark Wendland’s (The Pain of My Belligerence) scenic design is a large illuminated “Moscow” sign over a diorama of the city at one end of the auditorium. Paloma Young’s (Peter and the Starcatcher) costumes mix period gowns with modern tee shirts and hoodies. I was frequently entertained along the way, but when it was over I had to ask myself what the point was. I don’t see what contribution Feiffer has made to the appreciation of Chekhov. I would like to declare a hundred-year moratorium on adapting or deconstructing his works. Running time: 2 hours including intermission. NOTE: I strongly urge you to brush up on Three Sisters before attending.

Time and the Conways

B

Every once in a while, Roundabout Theatre Company surprises me by taking a chance on the revival of a neglected play, e.g. Machinal. To open their current season, they have revived this complex J.B. Priestley (An Inspector Calls) family drama that has not been seen in New York since 1938. Furthermore, they have given it a topnotch production with a superb cast, sensitive direction and a marvelous set design. In it we meet the Conway family — a widowed mother in a provincial British town (a fine Elizabeth McGovern, lately of Downton Abbey) and her six grown children. Hazel (lovely Anna Camp; All New People) is the town beauty. Carol (Anna Baryshnikov) is the youngest and sweetest. Alan (the always excellent Gabriel Ebert; Therese Raquin, Casa Valentina) is the eldest and most likely to be ignored. Madge (a fine Brooke Bloom; Cloud 9) is a budding Socialist. Kay (Charlotte Parry; The Winslow Boy) is a would-be novelist. Robin (Matthew James Thomas; Pippin, Spider-Man), just back from the Air Force, is the apple of his mother’s eye. Among the guests at Kay’s 21st birthday party are Gerald (Alfredo Narciso; Tiny Beautiful Things), a family friend and solicitor; Joan (a radiant Cara Ricketts), a neighbor; and Ernest (Steven Boyer; Hand of God), an awkward businessman newly arrived in town. Don’t be put off by the first act, the weakest of the three, which introduces the characters in the context of an interminable offstage game of charades at Kay’s party. There is general optimism since the Great War has ended and the future looks bright, both for the family as well as the country. In this production, there is no intermission between the first two acts. This is a wise choice as it provides a reason for a breathtaking set change, in which Neil Patel’s classic drawing room is replaced by something more ethereal. In the second act things get much more interesting. We are suddenly in 1937, when we see the many ways that things have not turned out as hoped for almost all of the characters. The disappointments of this rather smug family reflect the disillusionment in the world at large as the promise of peace and prosperity have faded. After intermission, Act III brings us back to Kay’s 21st birthday party in 1919 immediately after the moment we left it. We discover the seeds of many of the developments we witnessed in Act II. It’s an unconventional structure that has an emotional payoff even though it leaves some of our questions unanswered. The play explores the idea that the past, present and future are all taking place simultaneously, but you need not subscribe to that theory to enjoy the play. The cast is uniformly strong, although I do wish Ms. Camp smiled less. I admire Ms. McGovern’s bravery in portraying so unattractive a character. Paloma Young’s costumes are appealing, except for one hideous ball gown. Tony-award winning director Rebecca Taichman (Indecent) negotiates the play’s complexities smoothly. I felt that the production was probably better than the play deserved, that when you strip away the play’s gimmicks, there isn’t enough substance there. Nevertheless, I was grateful for the opportunity to see it in this splendid production. Running time: 2 hours 25 minutes including intermission.

Tiny Beautiful Things ** C

Cheryl Strayed’s 2012 collection of her “Dear Sugar” advice columns from The Rumpus, an online website, was a bestseller. Actor Nia Vardalos (My Big Fat Greek Wedding) thought it would be a good idea to adapt it for the stage and enlisted Marshall Heyman and Thomas Kail to assist with the concept. Kail (Hamilton) also directs. The result is this sporadically involving 80-minute production now at the Public Theater. An epistolary play with no direct interaction between characters is not an easy thing to bring off, but it can be done (cf. Love Letters). Here, however, it is an unequal exchange with one person responding to questions from several others. Three actors — Phillip James Brannon (Nat Turner in Jerusalem),  Alfredo Narciso and Natalie Woolams-Torres — play a variety of people with a variety of problems, large and small, who write to Sugar for advice. Sugar differs from the typical advice columnist by her willingness to share her own painful experiences with her readers. Nardalos portrays her with no-nonsense directness, folding laundry or packing school lunches as she speaks. Each time one of the other actors appears, he or she is playing a different person so there is little opportunity to build a character. One notable exception is an extended scene in which Narciso plays a man whose son has been killed by a hit-and-run driver; he is absolutely wrenching. While the questions more or less resemble ordinary speech, Sugar’s answers come out in polished prose. I would have preferred reading them at my leisure over hearing them on a stage. Rachel Hauck’s set of Strayed’s kitchen and living room looks so lived in that I found myself studying its details when my interest lagged. Jennifer Moeller’s costumes suit the characters well. Thomas Kail’s direction tries hard to enliven a basically static situation. I admired all the good intentions, but I found the effort ultimately misguided.

Summer Shorts: Series B *

The second installment of the Summer Shorts Festival of New American Short Plays at 59E59 Theater features works by Lucy Thurber (The Hill Town Plays), Robert O’Hara (Bootycandy) and Stella Fawn Ragsdale.

In Thurber’s Unstuck we meet Pete (Alfredo Narciso), a man too depressed to leave the house even on his birthday. In three scenes he interacts with his sister Jackie (Lauren Blumenfeld) who badgers him to critique her hilariously inept tap-dance routine, his narcissistic friend Sara (Carmen Zilles), who offers him a birthday cupcake and a song and, finally, his patient live-in girlfriend Deirdre (KK Moggie), who tries to snap him out of his depression. Unfortunately Pete’s lethargy was contagious and, for me, more than cancelled out the liveliness of the three women. Laura Savia directed.

O’Hara’s Built has an interesting premise. Mrs. Back (Merritt Janson), a disgraced former teacher has a rendezvous with Mason (Justin Bernegger), a studly 25-year-old with whom she had sex at school 10 years ago. Their encounter is more than a little kinky. The brief male nudity suggests why she found him so irresistible. Their perspectives on their earlier relationship differ. Unfortunately, the play ends with a twist that comes out of nowhere and makes very little sense. Bernegger certainly gives it his all. Who was it who said that there’s nothing wrong with being an exhibitionist as long as you put on a good show? The playwright directed.

Ragsdale’s Love Letters to a Dictator gets off to a bad start and never recovers. Stella (Colby Minifie, recently in Punk Rock), a farm woman with the same name as the playwright enters with a large laundry basket under her arm. Instead of setting the basket down and sitting, she balances on one foot struggling to take her boots off while still holding the basket. Nothing that follows makes much sense either. Stella has left her family behind in Tennessee to move to New York to be a writer. It is also mentioned that she left to avoid ostracism over the wrong kind of love. Unable to adjust to city life, she moves to a farm in the Hudson Valley. Out of the blue she begins corresponding with the North Korean dictator and seeks his advice over whether to return home. She hangs her correspondence from clothespins on a line that stretches across the stage. When Kim Jong-Il dies, she writes a final letter. That’s about it. Logan Vaughn directed.

While the actors in all three plays were commendable, the material did not rise very far above the level of exercises for a playwriting workshop. The sets and costumes were by the same people who designed Series A. Running time: 75 minutes, no intermission. It seemed longer.

The Good Mother *

(Please click on the title to see the full review.)
Ads for Francine Volpe's new play at The New Group describe it as a "taut psychological thriller." I wish! It's anything but taut, devoid of thrills, and psychological only in the sense that much of the dialogue is psychobabble. Larissa (Gretchen Mol) is a 33-year-old single mother with an autistic 4-year-old daughter. In a series of scenes with her goth babysitter Angus (Eric Nielsen), her truck driver date Jonathan (Darren Goldstein), her former group therapist and mentor during her teen years -- and father of Angus -- Joel (Mark Blum), and an ex-boyfriend cop Buddy (Alfredo Narciso), we see several aspects of Larissa which still fall far short of creating a coherent character. The fine cast struggles valiantly, but they have little to work with. Scott Elliott's sluggish direction only emphasizes the play's flaws. I liked the set by Derek McLane -- a tacky living room with knotty pine walls, an overstuffed sectional and lace curtains. Cynthia Rowley's costumes were fine too. Applause was tepid at best at play's end. Running time: 95 minutes, no intermission.

Chimichangas and Zoloft **

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In the unlikely event that I remember this Atlantic Stage 2 production by Fernanda Coppel at all a year from now, it will be as the play that begins with a fart. The characters are two 15-year old best friends, Penelope Lopez (Xochitl Romero) and Jackie Martinez (Carmen Zilles); their fathers Alejandro Lopez (Alfredo Narciso), a bartender, and Ricardo Martinez (Teddy Cañez), an attorney; and the extremely depressed Sonia Martinez (Zabryna Guevara), who is taking a vacation from the roles of wife and mother. Except for a very brief scene near play's end, Sonia is presented only through a series of overwritten monologues. The teenagers address each other as "dude" with annoying frequency. Their fathers are hiding a sexual secret which is less of a secret than they suppose. The reason that Penelope has no mother is never explained. Each scene begins with a rather pointless projected title. Setting the play in a Mexican-American L.A. neighborhood gives it a bit of ethnic flavor, but the situations are not particular to any community. The ending of the play is so low key that I didn't realize it was over. The play is not without interest, but simply doesn't seem ready for public viewing. Jaime Castañeda directed. Running time: 90 minutes without intermission. Note: Atlantic Stage 2 is not an audience-friendly theater. Some of the rows are not staggered. Avoid seats in Row A, because there is a Row AA in front of it and no rake. Since the stage, unlike most theaters, is not elevated, it is often hard to see the actors.