M. Butterfly

C+

Since I did not see either the original 1988 Broadway production or the 1993 film, I approached this revival, directed by Julie Taymor, without preconceptions. Although I had read the mostly negative reviews and the criticisms of David Henry Hwang’s revised script, I was prepared to enjoy the production on its own terms and, to some extent, I did. Clive Owen (Old Times), whose natural charm makes him an unconventional choice to play the socially awkward Rene Gallimard, carries it off well. In the key scene where Song Liling (Jin Ha; Troilus and Cressida) enchants him by performing an aria from Madama Butterfly, he is undermined by unfortunate makeup that makes him look like a drag queen; in later scenes he is much more believable as a woman. Incidentally, he is an exceptional dancer in one of the Chinese opera scenes, all of which are quite colorful and energetic. The secondary roles are competently filled by Enid Graham (Bull in a China Shop) as Rene’s wife Agnes, Murray Bartlett (HBO’s “Looking”) as Pinkerton/Marc, Michael Countryman (Six Degrees of Separation) as Sharpless/Toulon/Judge, Clea Alsip (The Way We Get By) as Pinup Girl/Renee, and Celeste Den (Chinglish) as Comrade Chin. The set design by Paul Steinberg with large movable panels that slide and swivel is eye-catching at first but grows tiresome quickly. Constance Hoffman’s costumes are excellent. The complex story of sexual fantasy, self-delusion, the blindness of love, espionage, Western imperialism, and the Chinese cultural revolution remains fascinating even though the playwright’s revisions to bring it closer to actual events may have added too much information at the cost of mystery. There are occasional moments, particularly at the trial, when it becomes too much like a geopolitical lecture. Nevertheless, there is much to admire. Running time: two hours 20 minutes including intermission.

Old Times **

The circumstances for attending this Roundabout production were far from ideal. Fighting Times Square holiday crowds to see a 65-minute play was a dubious enterprise at best. Trying to maintain attention when there were FIVE interruptions by cellphones was nigh impossible. That being said, the play was not without its merits. The three actors — Clive Owen, Kelly Reilly and Eve Best — inhabited their roles thoroughly and even sang snippets of song pleasantly. The dialogue had moments of entertaining word play. Under Douglas Hodge’s direction, the usual long Pinter silences were virtually absent. That alone must have chopped at least ten minutes off the play’s length. The austere set by Christine Jones with a back wall of arcs radiating like rings from a pebble dropped in a pond and a door that resembled a block of ice was evocative. The costumes by Constance Hoffman suited the characters well. The moody sound design by Clive Goodman and dramatic lighting by Japhy Weideman enhanced the proceedings. The basic situation of a married couple in a remote house being visited by the wife’s former roommate of 20 years prior had promise. I just did not find the competing memories that involving. Under better circumstances, I might have enjoyed it more. In my opinion, offering a 65-minute play at Broadway prices is pushing the limits.