Here We Are

B-

Although Stephen Sondheim did not live to see the premiere of his final musical, a mash-up of two surreal Buñuel films -- “The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie” and “The Exterminating Angel" -- co-conceived with book writer David Ives, he did authorize it for production. Nevertheless, I could not escape the feeling that it had not really reached its intended final form. The virtual absence of music for most of the second act is tortuously justified, but remained, for me at least, unsatisfying. For that matter, the amount and quality of the music in the first act seemed to indicate that the music itself had taken a back seat to the lyrics and the book. That being said, I hasten to add that these flaws should not deter anyone from seeing this lavish, star-studded production, now in final previews at The Shed. There is not one weak link in the stellar cast of 11. Francois Battiste, Tracie Bennett, Bobby Canavale, Micaela Diamond, Amber Gray, Jin Ha, Rachel Bay Jones, Denis O’Hare, Steven Pasquale, David Hyde Pierce and Jeremy Shamos are all superb in their roles. One only wishes that there were more opportunities for them to shine. O’Hare practically steals the show with his portrayal of various servants; he has one of the few stand-out numbers, early in the first act. David Zinn’s sets and costumes are major assets to the production, as is Joe Mantello’s assured direction. One must admire Sondheim for taking on the challenge of musicalizing Buñuel even if the results are not all one had hoped for. I do not foresee that Here We Are will ever be considered to be on a par with Sondheim’s finest work, but it is an interesting addition to the canon. Running time: two hours 20 minutes, including intermission.

Paradise Blue

B

Things look very promising upon arrival at the Linney Theatre at Signature Center for the final installment of Dominique Morisseau’s (Skeleton Crew, Pipeline) Detroit trilogy. The walls of the theater are covered with vintage posters for jazz concerts. The set by Neil Patel (An Ordinary Muslim; Time and the Conways) evokes the look of a seedy bar in the Black Bottom area of that city in 1949. At one end we see an upstairs rental room perfect in period detail down to the mauve chenille bedspread. Two huge electric PARADISE signs overhang the set, each facing half the audience seated on opposite sides of the stage. A lively burst of jazz plays as the lights dim. We meet each of the colorful characters: Blue (J. Alphonse Nicholson), the bar’s owner and trumpet player; Pumpkin (Kristolyn Lloyd; Dear Evan Hansen, Invisible Thread), Blue’s lover, cook and cleaning woman, who likes to memorize poems; Corn (Keith Randall Smith; The Piano Lesson, Jitney), pianist, widower and longtime friend of Blue’s; P-Sam (Francois Battiste; Prelude to a Kiss, Head of Passes), a young drummer down on his luck; and Silver (Simone Missick), a sultry black widow who rents the upstairs room. Blue’s bar is at the heart of a thriving area of black-owned businesses, threatened by a new mayor who wants to eliminate “blight.” Each of the characters has personal reasons for wanting the bar either to remain open or to close. The characters, mostly richly drawn, would feel right at home in an August Wilson play except for Silver, who seems to have wandered in from a noir film. Skillful director Ruben Santiago-Hudson (Jitney, The Piano Lesson) is in his comfort zone. The period costumes by Clint Ramos (Night Is a Room, Appropriate) are wonderful. Because the production has so much going for it, I am sorry to report that the play does not fully live up to its promise. The plot is not as coherent as it should be. The character of Blue is so relentlessly unsympathetic and devoid of charm that it is hard to care about his fate; I am curious whether another actor could have fared better with the role. Nevertheless, I enjoyed seeing the other first-rate actors making the most of juicy roles. Ms. Lloyd and Mr. Smith are especially fine. It’s not up there with Morisseau’s  Skeleton Crew, but it is still worth seeing. Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes including intermission.

Head of Passes **

A program note says that playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney’s current play, now at the Public Theater, was inspired by the Book of Job. While the faith of matriarch Shelah (Phylicia Rashad) is also sorely tested by multiple tragedies, there is an important difference between her and Job. Despite her outward piety, we learn in the play’s final moments that she is far from guiltless. The setting is a former b&b at the mouth of the Mississippi where Shelah has lived alone since the death of her beloved husband. She has two sons, the successful but hot-tempered Aubrey (Francois Battiste) and the likable but unreliable Spencer (J. Bernard Calloway), who both live nearby. They have arranged a surprise party for her birthday and invited her vivacious old friend Mae (Arnetia Walker) and Dr. Anderson (Robert Joy), the only person who knows that Shelah is dying. Breaker (John Earl Jelks), a crusty old family friend, snd his son Crier (Kyle Beltran) have been hired to serve at the party. We also meet the mercurial Cookie (Alana Arenas), the illegitimate daughter that Shelah’s husband brought home as an infant whom Shelah has raised as her own, but who is now a drug addict who avoids the family home. The raging storm and leaky roof portend ill. The first act is a sometimes uneven mix of comedy and drama that ends with a bang.  Most of the second act is an extended monologue for Shelah, who tries unsuccessfully to find the divine purpose in her misfortunes. Rashad is superb but her full-throttle performance was not enough to distract me from the play’s weaknesses. The entire cast is strong. I was disappointed that Beltran, so fine in McCraney’s Choir Boy as well as in Fortress of Solitude, never gets to perform the song he was supposed to sing at the party. The set by G.W. Mercier certainly commands our attention. Toni-Leslie James's costumes are appropriate. Tina Landau directs with a feeling for the material. I give McCraney credit for trying something different with each play, but I found the current play overwrought, muddled and disjointed, less satisfying than either his Choir Boy or Wig Out. The audience was very enthusiastic. Running time: 2 hours including intermission.

Taking Care of Baby**

(Please click on the title to see the complete review.)
British playwright Dennis Kelly's faux documentary is now at Manhattan Theatre Club's Studio at Stage II for its New York premiere. An initial advisory that all the dialogue has been lifted from actual transcripts is deliberately garbled a couple of times later, perhaps as a clue that it is all fiction. The play crosscuts between Donna (Kristen Bush), a mother who has been jailed for murder after the death of her two young children; her mother Lynn (Margaret Colin), a politician whose positions change as often as the wind direction; the controversial Dr. Millard (Reed Birney), who has posited a disease that causes oversensitive women to murder their children; and Martin (Francois Battiste), Donna's traumatized former husband. Peripheral characters include Mrs. Millard (Amelia Campbell), Lynn's campaign manager Jim (Ethan Phillips) and an odious, sexually addicted reporter (Michael Crane.) Talking head interviews alternate with reenactments. The acting is top-notch, especially by Bush, Colin and Birney. I wish that the rapid alteration of fragmentary scenes did not diminish the momentum so that none of the individual stories was adequately developed. Despite the fine acting, the play's concept was more interesting than the execution. Erica Schmidt's direction seemed unfocused and uninvolving. Running time: two hours, fifteen minutes including intermission.