To Kill a Mockingbird

B+

I must confess that I thought it was a terrible idea to turn Harper Lee’s classic novel into a Broadway play starring Jeff Daniels (Blackbird, God of Carnage, “The Newsroom”). The film version is so indelibly lodged in people’s consciousness that it did not seem possible for a stage version to compete, even with a script by Aaron Sorkin (A Few Good Men, “The West Wing”). While I have admired much of Daniels’s work, he’s not Gregory Peck. My doubts grew when I heard that the roles of the three children would be played by adults, a practice I generally detest. I am happy to report that my qualms were mostly misplaced. While Sorkin’s script hews closely to the film in most respects (It’s been so long since I read it that I can’t comment on how closely it adheres to the novel), the changes he makes are mostly improvements. The roles of Calpurnia, Dill and the judge have been expanded, to good effect. A new character, the town drunk Link Deas (a touching Neal Huff; The Iceman Cometh), has been introduced, with his own tragic tale of the dire consequences of an interracial marriage. A few scenes from early in the film, such as Scout’s first day at school, have been left out without serious harm. Even allowing for the fact that the actors playing them are adults, the children seem a few years older than in the novel. This makes dramatic sense because the three, mainly Scout, narrate the story. The level of the acting is superb; even small roles have been cast with fine actors. Daniels is solid, but no match for my memory of Peck. Celia Keenan-Bolger (The Glass Menagerie, A Parallelogram) is superb as Scout. Will Pullen (Sweat, Punk Rock) is fine as her brother Jem. LaTanya Richardson Jackson (A Raisin in the Sun) makes Calpurnia a good sparring partner for Atticus. Gideon Glick (Significant Other) is the wrong physical type for Dill (allegedly based on Truman Capote) but brings out his sensitivity well. Stark Sands (Kinky Boots) plays against type as the racist prosecutor Horace Gilmer. Frederick Weller (Mothers and Sons, Glengarry Glen Ross) is an appropriately sinister Bob Ewell. Erin Wilhelmi (The Crucible) is excellent as his daughter Mayella. Phyllis Somerville (Over Here, “The Big C”) is fine as the acerbic Mrs. Henry Dubose. Dakin Matthews (The Iceman Cometh) as the judge and Danny McCarthy (The Iceman Cometh) as the sheriff are both effective. Gbenga Akinnagbe (A View from 151st Street) is a quietly forceful Tom Robinson. In an interesting casting move, Danny Wolohan (The Low Road, The Flick) successfully plays both Mr. Cunningham and Boo Radley. Liv Rooth (Is He Dead?, All in the Timing) doubles as Dill’s mother and Miss Stephanie. The fluid staging is greatly enhanced by Miriam Buether’s (Three Tall Women) wonderful set that rapidly transforms between locations. The period costumes by Ann Roth (The Nance) are also fine. A few of the changes play to current sensibilities: the jury’s verdict is much quicker and a police shooting is much more violent. The jury’s seats remain empty, as if to lead us to project ourselves into them. Although Atticus is still very much at the center, the play works more as an ensemble piece than a character study. Bartlett Sher (My Fair Lady, The King and I) directs the large cast with consummate skill. All in all, I was pleasantly surprised how well this stage version turned out. Running time: two hours 35 minutes including intermission.

Fulfillment Center

C-

I would not have been so disappointed with Abe Koogler’s new play at Manhattan Theatre Club’s Stage II if had not started promisingly. For the first 30 minutes or so, I thought it was heading confidently to an interesting destination. Unfortunately, as it progressed, the playwright seemed to lose control of his material and the play ended up at a dead end. In the well-written first scene, Alex (Bobby Moreno; Grand Concourse), the 30ish manager of an Amazon-like warehouse in New Mexico, is testing the speed of a 60ish prospective employee, Suzan (Deirdre O’Connell; By the Water, The Vandal). The interaction between the nice guy stuck in an unforgiving job and the down-on-her-luck ex-singer who desperately needs work is both funny and revealing. In the next scene we see Alex with his longtime girlfriend, the sassy Madeleine (Eboni Booth), who has just moved, reluctantly, from New York to be with Alex until an expected move to greener pastures in Seattle in six months. How they came to be an interracial couple and why they have stayed together almost ten years without even getting engaged are questions that remain unanswered. In the third scene we see Madeleine at the campground where she is staying as she tries to strike up a conversation with John (Frederick Weller; Mother and Sons; Glengarry Glen Ross), a taciturn 40ish carpenter whose most recent girlfriend has kicked him out. In the remaining scenes, each character meets with one of two others. The men never meet and the women never meet. The writing weakens, the play meanders and it finally grinds to a halt. Andrew Lieberman’s set, such as it is, is a long sand-colored platform running the length of the theater plus a couple of folding metal chairs. The audience sits on both long sides of the platform. Asta Bennie Hostetter’s  costumes are apt. Daniel Aukin is a director whose work has included some fine evenings of theater (4000 Miles, Bad Jews, The Fortress of Solitude) as well as some terrible ones (Fool for Love, Rancho Viejo, Placebo, What Rhymes with America?). His work here includes one gesture that I hate: forcing the actors not in the present scene to sit impassively at the edge of the stage in plain sight. It’s always a pleasure to see Deirdre O’Connell. Eboni Booth is a fresh new face. Bobby Moreno makes his “nice guy” role believable. Frederick Weller’s mannerisms annoyed me less than usual. With more work, the play might have amounted to something better. As is, it’s a missed opportunity. I very much doubt that the playwright knew where he was headed when he began. Running time: one hour 25 minutes; no intermission.

Mothers and Sons **

A new Terrence McNally play starring Tyne Daly -- what could possibly go wrong? Plenty, as it turns out. When the usually admirable Frederick Weller first opens his mouth, the mannered, almost falsetto voice that comes out resembles nothing found in nature. What was director Sheryl Kaller thinking to steer him in this strange direction? After a few seconds of this unnatural sound, it was clear that it was going to be a long 90 minutes. Remember the Emmy-winning 1990 television drama "Andre's Mother" starring Sada Thompson and Richard Thomas, about the confrontation between a woman who has lost her son to AIDS and the lover he left behind? McNally picks up these characters 20 years later when Katharine (Daly) unexpectedly visits the former lover Cal (Weller) to return Andre's diary, which neither of them has read. The years have not mellowed Katharine; if anything, she has only grown more bitter and filled with hate. Cal, on the other hand, has moved on; he now has a Central Park West apartment, a husband, Will (Bobby Steggert), 15 years his junior, and a 6-year-old son Bud (the too-cute-by-half Grayson Taylor). The play drifts from clumsy exposition to clever zingers to didactic speeches in no particular order. Daly does not get to display much range. Steggert is the only one who resembles an actual human being. Even set designer John Lee Beatty is off his stride -- the unattractive apartment does not look like one any gay couple would inhabit. The play's only interest is to document the dramatic changes that have taken place for gay Americans in the last 20 years. After three weeks of previews, the play still seems far from polished. A major disappointment.