All My Sons

A

Roundabout Theatre Company’s revival of Arthur Miller’s first successful play is as fine a production of a Miller play as I ever hope to see. All the elements — casting, direction, scenic design, costumes, lighting, sound design and projections —are near perfect. Tracy Letts (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf), Annette Benning (Spoils of War, Coastal Disturbances) and Benjamin Walker (American Psycho, Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson) all give performances that I will not soon forget. Francesca Carpanini (The Little Foxes), Hampton Fluker (Too Heavy for Your Pocket) and Michael Hayden (Judgment at Nuremberg) are solid in feature roles, as are Jenni Barber (The Nance), Monte Greene, Nehal Joshi (School of Rock) and Chinasa Ogbuagu (Her Portmanteau, Sojourners) in supporting ones. Together they convincingly portray a close-knit community. Director Jack O’Brien (Carousel, The Hard Problem) uncovers a depth and breadth in the play that I had not found in previous productions. He also knits the various subplots together with uncommon skill. Douglas W. Schmidt’s (Into the Woods, The Front Page) set depicts an idyllic Midwestern yard and house facade. Jane Greenwood’s (She Loves Me, Major Barbara) costumes capture the period well. Jeff Sugg’s (Sweat, Bring It On) projections are used sparingly but effectively. Miller’s depiction of the dark side of the American Dream sadly remains as relevant now as it was in 1947. Today it may be a group of anonymous Boeing executives who are putting unsafe planes in the air instead of an individual parts supplier, but they are motivated by the same corrosive greed. Rarely have I been in an audience that was so totally involved. It is definitely one of the dramatic highlights of the season. Running time: two hours 20 minutes including an intermission and a brief pause.

Mother of the Maid

B-

As a showcase for the talents of the marvelous Glen Close (The Real Thing, Sunset Boulevard), Jane Anderson’s (Looking for Normal, “The Wife”) play at the Public Theater is an unqualified success. Beyond that, its merits are less clear. Your reaction to it may depend on whether you think the world needs yet another play about Joan of Arc, albeit one told from the viewpoint of her mother. The Arcs, as portrayed by Anderson, are a hardworking peasant family. Jacques (Dermot Crowley; The Weir, Translations) is gruff and dislikes challenges to his authority. Isabelle (Ms. Close) is a no-nonsense mother who tries hard to meet the challenge of raising their rebellious teen-aged daughter Joan (Grace Van Patten; The Whirligig), especially when she starts having saintly visions. Joan’s brother Pierre (Andrew Hovelson; Lucky Guy, The Father) repeatedly demonstrates that he lacks his sister’s strength of character. Their priest, Father Gilbert (Daniel Pearce; Machinal, Passion Play), discounts Joan’s visions until she is embraced by the French court. A well-meaning but nameless Lady of the Court (Kate Jennings Grant; The Lyons, Noises Off) is kind to Joan and her family but is unable to avoid lapsing into patronizing mode. Her servant Monique (Olivia Gilliatt; CasablancaBox) is basically superfluous to the story. The first act contains considerable humor, occasionally resembling a family sitcom. The second act darkens and offers powerful monologues for each parent. While it is interesting to see events from a different point of view, the play offers no new insights. The device of having a character narrate, referring to oneself in the third person, seemed awkward. The actors are all fine, with Ms. Close more than fine. I only wish she had not been given makeup that made her appear almost grotesque. The set design by John Lee Beatty (Sweat, The Water Engine) is efficient and understated. Jane Greenwood’s (The Little Foxes) costumes are apt, especially the lavish gowns for Ms. Grant. The direction by Matthew Penn (The Beauty Queen of Leenane) is smooth. While I found the play a bit wobbly in its tone, I was grateful for the opportunity to see Ms. Close up close. Running time: two hours ten minutes including intermission.

The Parisian Woman

B-

Uma Thurman makes her Broadway debut in the lead role of Chloe in Beau Willimon’s (Farragut North, “House of Cards”) political drama set in contemporary Washington. The play was inspired by La Parisienne, an 1885 French play by Henry Becque. Chloe is married to Tom (Josh Lucas; Corpus Christi, “Sweet Home Alabama”), a prominent tax lawyer who is hoping for an appointment to the federal bench. Peter (Marton Csokas; The Little Foxes at NYTW) is an influential businessman who is besotted with Chloe. Jeanette (Blair Brown; Copenhagen, James Joyce's The Dead) is about to become chair of the Federal Reserve Board. Her daughter Rebecca (Phillipa Soo; Hamilton, Amelie), fresh out of Harvard Law, has ambitions for a career in politics. Chloe may not have a career, but pulling the strings of the other four characters is a full-time job. Deep character portrayal is not the play’s strength. Playing out a somewhat intricate plot while springing an occasional surprise is where the pleasure lies. There are scattered references to life under the Trump administration that go for an easy laugh. The actors are well-cast. Ms. Thurman seems perfectly comfortable onstage; that her character does not come across as more charismatic is probably a problem in the writing. Mr. Csokas’s Peter is a hoot. Blair Brown never disappoints. Mr. Lucas and Ms Soo are fine, but don’t get that much opportunity to show their mettle. The scenic design by Derek McLane (Beautiful, The Price) features three different attractive sets. A high-tech electronic curtain descends between scenes. Jane Greenwood’s (The Little Foxes) costumes suit their characters well. Pam MacKinnon (Amelie, The Qualms) directs with assurance. Running time: one hour 40 minutes; no intermission.

Napoli, Brooklyn

C

Playwright Meghan Kennedy does not exactly have a knack for titles. Her promising 2013 work for Roundabout Underground was titled “Too Much, Too Much, Too Many.” Whatever relationship that had to the play was lost on me. Now she has “graduated” up a level at Roundabout from the Black Box to the Laura Pels Theatre for this semi-autobiographical drama about an Italian family made up of a tyrannical father originally from Naples, a long-suffering mother and three daughters in Brooklyn in 1960. This title is an improvement, but not exactly an attention grabber. Perhaps she should have called it “Three Sisters See the View from the Bridge” or, for reasons that will be very clear near the end of the first act, just “Boom!” Actually the title of her earlier play would have been more suitable for this one because it suffers from too much plot and too many characters. Nic Muscolino (Lev Gorn) is embittered that he has no sons. His wife Ludovica (the excellent Alyssa Bresnahan) prays to God via an onion that she hopes will restore her ability to cry. 26-year-old Tina (Lilli Kay) has been forced to forgo an education and go to work in a tile factory to help support the family. 20-year-old Vita (Elise Kibler; Indian Summer) has been shipped off to a convent after her father has broken her nose and a few ribs when she threatened him with a pair of scissors to prevent him from attacking 16-year-old Francesca (Jordyn DiNatale) for cutting off her long curls. Francesca is a budding lesbian who is planning to stow away on a ship to France with her very close friend Connie Duffy (Juliet Brett; What I Did Last Summer). Connie’s widowed father Albert (the fine Erik Lochtefeld; The Light Years, Small Mouth Sounds), the neighborhood butcher, has a crush on Ludovica. Celia Jones (Shirine Babb) is an African-American coworker of Tina’s who becomes her only friend. The second act deals with the differing ways each character copes with the cataclysmic event that actually occurred in Brooklyn in 1960. After a fractious Christmas dinner, there is a quiet denouement. My many reservations include a gratuitous SM scene with a lit cigarette, an unclear explication of the circumstances of one character’s departure and a feminist pep talk at the end that seemed anachronistic at best. Furthermore, something is amiss when the most touching moment in the play is a brief exchange between two peripheral characters. Gordon Edelstein's direction was a bit sluggish. The set by Eugene Lee suggests multiple locations by the use of signs and symbols hung high above the stage. The costumes by Jane Greenwood are authentic to the period. The sound design by Fitz Patton and lighting design by Ben Stanton are most effective. All in all, I preferred the playwright’s earlier, more focused offering for Roundabout. Running time: 2 hours including intermission.

The Little Foxes

A-

While the critics never placed Lillian Hellman in the first rank of American playwrights, her work, at least as exemplified by this 1939 family drama, has much to recommend it and is certainly worthy of an occasional revival. She surely knew how to write a tight plot and juicy roles that allow actors to show their mettle. Manhattan Theatre Club has assembled a first-rate cast for this production, led by Laura Linney and Cynthia Nixon who alternate the roles of Regina and Birdie. This tale of an avaricious family greedy to progress from rich to filthy rich bears an extra frisson of timeliness today. We meet the Hubbard family in Alabama in 1900. Brothers Ben (Michael McKean) and Oscar (Darren Goldstein) are wooing a Chicago industrialist Mr. Marshall (David Alford) to build a cotton mill on their property. To keep the deal in the family, they need their sister Regina Giddens (Linney at my performance) to raise a third of the investment. Trouble is her husband Horace (Richard Thomas), who controls the pursestrings, is away in Baltimore convalescing from a heart condition and shows no inclination to return or even to respond to their increasingly frantic letters. Regina skillfully uses her leverage to win a better deal from her brothers and persuades her virtuous 17-year-old daughter Alexandra (Francesca Carpanini) to go to Baltimore to fetch Horace. Leo Hubbard (Michael Benz), the unsavory son of Oscar and Birdie, works in Horace’s bank and comes up with a shady plan that allows the brothers to proceed without Regina. When Horace returns, he discovers their plot and, unfortunately for him, reveals it to his wife. There is more scheming, a shocking scene between Horace and Regina and, surprisingly for its time, an ending in which evil is not punished, at least not explicitly. The role of Regina, catnip for such actresses as Tallulah Bankhead and Bette Davis, suits Linney well; she captures both the steeliness and the traces of charm. However, she is almost overshadowed by Cynthia Nixon’s superb performance as her sister-in-law Birdie, a delicate wounded bird driven to drink by her husband’s abuse; her monologue in the final act is absolutely wrenching. Linney and Nixon are so persuasive in these roles that is hard to imagine them in reverse. Even the servants are well-cast — Charles Turner as the butler Cal and Caroline Stefanie Clay as Addie, the housekeeper whose eye rolls and facial expressions speak louder than words. Jane Greenwood’s costumes are marvelous. Scott Pask’s living room set is fine except that the staircase, focus of a crucial scene, looks strangely cramped. Daniel Sullivan directs with a sure hand. The play is far from subtle, but, with such a fine production,  it is very entertaining. Running time: two hours 25 minutes including two intermissions.

Long Day’s Journey into Night **

When a Pulitzer and Tony winning play regarded by many as a masterpiece is revived with a stellar cast, it is cause for keen anticipation. And so I was eagerly awaiting Roundabout Theatre’s revival of Eugene O’Neill’s semi-autobiographical play starring Jessica Lange, Gabriel Byrne, Michael Shannon and John Gallagher Jr. as the members of the Tyrone family. O’Neill forbade publication until 25 years after his death, but his widow overrode his wishes and published the play in 1956, only three years after he died. James Tyrone (Byrne) is a miserly 65-year-old actor who sold out by repeating the same lucrative role for too many years. James Jr. (Shannon) is the 33-year-old elder son, a ne’er-do-well who has managed to have a third-rate acting career trading on his father’s name. Edmund (Gallagher), ten years younger, has always been frail and sickly. A would-be writer, he is O’Neill’s stand-in. All three Tyrone men are devoted to the bottle. Finally there is wife and mother Mary (Lange), a faded beauty who became addicted to morphine after Edmund’s birth and has just returned from yet another sanitorium stay. Over four acts stretching from morning to midnight on a day in August 1912, we watch this ultimate dysfunctional family lacerate themselves and each other, expressing affection, hatred, exasperation, blame, sympathy and denial. Brevity and subtlety are not among O’Neill’s strengths. While I remember being tremendously moved by the 1962 film version with Katharine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson, Jason Robards Jr. and Dean Stockwell, today I found myself restless and impatient. When intermission arrived at the 1 1/2 hour mark, I realized with dread that there were still two hours to go afterwards. The fourth and final act seemed endless. I have been trying to figure out why it didn’t work for me this time. The first problem for me was that Shannon is so much bigger than Byrne that he literally and figuratively overshadows him. In a restrained performance, Byrne is not convincing as a former matinee idol. Lange’s Mary, on the other hand, is much too theatrical for my taste. Shannon has so much presence that he dominates any scene he is in. Gallagher’s Edmund is adequate but unmemorable. Colby Minifie is fine as Cathleen, the maid. The effective set design by Tom Pye features a low ceiling that ominously hangs over the family. Jane Greenwood’s costumes are fine, especially Mary’s dresses in pale colors that suggest her fading away. Jonathan Kent’s direction does not produce a unity of approach from the actors. If you have never seen the play and have the patience to sit for almost four hours, see it. If you have fond memories of an earlier production, treasure them and sit this one out. Running time: 3 hours 45 minutes including intermission.

Therese Raquin **

The best reason to see this Roundabout production, an uneven adaptation of Zola’s 1867 novel by British playwright Helen Edmundson, is the spectacular set design by Beowulf Boritt. From the simple suggestion of a village cottage to a fully detailed sepulchral Paris apartment that falls from above as if to crush the characters to a skylit attic suspended in the night sky to a riverbank complete with water and rowboat, he sets the right note for this tale of limited choices, adultery, murder and guilt. His sets at least give you a focus for your attention during the glacially paced first act. As the title character, Keira Knightley doesn’t get to do much except stare soulfully during the first half hour. The always watchable Judith Light is fine as her aunt and soon-to-be mother-in-law. It is easy to understand why Therese is repelled by her sickly, spoiled cousin-then-husband Camille (Gabriel Ebert) and even easier to understand why she is magnetically attracted to his childhood chum Laurent (Matt Ryan) whom Camille runs into in Paris and, unfortunately for him, brings home to meet the family. Their sex scenes are brief and brutish.The habitués of Madame Raquin’s Thursday domino sessions — Monsieur Grivet (Jeff Still), Superintendent Michaud (David Patrick Kelly) snd his niece Suzanne (Mary Wiseman) — do not get much development. The pace picks up from late in the first act to midway through the second act. The subsequent descent into guilt and madness seemed anticlimactic. The use of many brief scenes seemed more suitable for film than the stage. Jane Greenwood’s costumes are appropriate. Keith Parham’s lighting is excellent. I did not care for the sound design and music by Josh Schmidt. The suggestions of Camille’s continued presence seemed out of a B movie. Director Evan Cabnet really should have picked up the pace a bit during the play’s early scenes. My interest lagged, but I really liked the sets. Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes including intermission. On the afternoon I attended, the performance was followed by a 25-minute Q&A with five of the actors which I enjoyed more than the play.

Act One ***

It's a bit ironic that this play about the storied theatrical collaboration of Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman was written and directed by James Lapine, who is noted for his own collaborative work but this time is working solo. Maybe that's the problem. Perhaps he needed another voice to rein him in from the play's excesses, particularly its excessive length. Maybe he was too smitten with Moss Hart's memoir to pare it down to a more manageable size. Nevertheless, this bioplay, now in previews at the Vivian Beaumont Theater, offers much to enjoy -- many will say too much. Any play that puts Santino Fontana, Tony Shalhoub and Andrea Martin on a stage together won't get too many complaints from me. Fontana is irresistibly charming as always and we get to enjoy Shalhoub and Martin in three roles each. The other 19 cast members are fine too. Yes, the play is old-fashioned and a bit sentimental, but it has many delightful moments. Only a nonprofit like Lincoln Center Theater is likely to take on such an expensive production. With some judicious trimming, it would be much improved. Beowulf Boritt's set works overtime to revolve between the play's many locales. Jane Greenwood's costumes are terrific. In general, I do not think it is a good idea for a playwright to direct his own work. There are exceptions, but this is not one of them. Running time: 2 hours, 45 minutes including intermission.

Nikolai and the Others **

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Judging from his new play at Lincoln Center Theater, Richard Nelson does not believe that less is more. He gives us 18 characters to keep track of over a span of 2 hours, 40 minutes, with a ballet excerpt thrown in for good measure. 15 of the characters are Russian emigres involved in the arts, including choreographer George Balanchine (Michael Cerveris), composer Igor Stravinsky (John Glover), conductor Serge Koussevitsky (Dale Pace), actor Vladimir Sokoloff (John Procaccino), set designer Sergey Sudeikin (Alvin Epstein) and, last but not least, Nikolai Nabokov (Stephen Kunken), a minor composer who is working for the U.S. government spreading largess to win the cultural Cold War. They, their wives, ex-wives and admirers are gathered on a Spring weekend in 1948 in rustic Connecticut to celebrate the ailing Sudeikin's name day and view a rehearsal of Orpheus, Balanchine and Stravinsky's current collaboration. The remaining three characters are the dancers Maria Tallchief, Balanchine's current wife (Natalia Alonso), and Nicholas Magallenes (Michael Rosen), and an uninvited guest "Chip" Bohlen (Gareth Saxe), a U.S. diplomat who keeps an intimidating eye on important Russian emigres. The play is most successful in capturing the pathos of those cut off from their cultural heritage, nostalgic for their homeland, clinging together, insecure and fearful in their adopted country. The rehearsal scene gives some insight into the creative process and provides us with some gorgeous dancing. The ballet sequence also provides a welcome respite from the nonstop conversation, table setting and clearing and eating. The role of the wives (Blair Brown, Kathryn Erbe and Betsy Aidem) is mainly to look after their men. The dancers don't get much respect either. During the course of the weekend, Nikolai comes to regret abandoning composing for his job helping fellow emigres and feels the sting of ingratitude. The acting seemed a bit flat, but with such a large cast, there is not much opportunity to develop deep characterization. David Cromer directs with a sure hand. The shabbiness of Marsha Ginsberg's set is deliberate, I assume. Jane Greenwood's costumes seem appropriate. Even though I was predisposed to like the play because of my interest in Balanchine and Stravinsky, I found it less rewarding than I had hoped. Running time: 2 hours, 40 minutes including intermission.

The Assembled Parties **

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Richard Greenberg's family chronicle, now in previews at MTC's Friedman Theatre, introduces us to a highly assimilated Jewish family comfortably ensconced in their 14-room Central Park West apartment on Christmas Day 1980. Julie (Jessica Hecht), her husband Ben (Jonathan Walker) and their two sons, Scotty, 24, (Jake Silbermann) and Timmy, 4, (Alex Dreier) are joined for the holiday dinner by Ben's sister Faye (Judith Light), her husband Mort (Mark Blum) and their 30-year old daughter Shelley (Lauren Blumenfeld). The only non-family member present is Jeff (Jeremy Shamos), Scotty's college friend, visiting for the first time. Julie was a movie actress before marriage. Faye married downward after getting pregnant. Her daughter appears to be at the low end of the IQ range. Julie and Ben joke that Scotty will be president some day. Jeff falls in love with their life. A necklace of possibly genuine rubies owned by Faye and Ben's mother plays an important role in the plot. Act Two takes place 20 years later. Reality has intervened. The survivors gather for a smaller, sadder Christmas dinner. On the plus side, there are juicy roles for three fine actors: Hecht, Light and Shamos. They all shine, although I found Hecht a little too mannered at times. There are many witty lines for them to deliver. Another big plus is Santo Loquasto's amazing revolving set which includes most of the rooms in the apartment. Jane Greenwood's costumes are first-rate too. The play's negatives include a few plot points that make very little sense, a sluggish pace in the first act and a few roles that are underwritten. As I write this, there are over 3 weeks left before opening night. Perhaps director Lynne Meadow will tighten things up by then. As it stands now, there are many entertaining moments and a few touching ones, but it doesn't add up to a lot. Running time: 2 hours, 25 minutes, including intermission.

Golden Age **

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Terrence McNally's love of opera has yielded such notable plays as The Lisbon Traviata and Master Class, so there was reason for high hopes for his Bellini biodrama now in previews at Manhattan Theatre Club. All the action takes place backstage during the premiere of I Puritani in 1835 Paris. Were I an avid opera buff,  the operatic shoptalk, musical and romantic rivalries and musical in-jokes might have been more involving. That not being the case, the proceedings quickly grew tiresome. When, at the 2 hour 15 minute mark, a character says "I thought it would never end," he expressed my thoughts perfectly. Unfortunately another 30 minutes remained. The cast features Lee Pace as Bellini, Bebe Neuwirth as Maria Malibran, his ex-flame and muse, and Will Rogers as Francesco Florimo, his patron, companion and, possibly, lover. The four leading singers, Giulia Grisi, Giovanni Battista Rubini, Antonio Tamburini and Luigi Lablanche, are played by Dierdre Friel, Eddie Kaye Thomas, Lorenzo Pisoni and Ethan Philips, respectively. F. Murray Abraham has a brief but memorable appearance as Rossini. The set by Santo Loquasto and costumes by Jane Greenwood are excellent. Walter Bobbie's direction does not disguise the flatness of the material. It's a disappointment.

Harvey **

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I should have learned by now that I rarely respond well to theatrical whimsy. Only my curiosity to see Jim Parsons onstage in a leading role led me to buy a ticket for the Roundabout Theatre's revival of Mary Chase's 1944 comedy. Parsons acquits himself well enough as Elwood P. Dowd, but the role isn't much of a stretch from Dr. Sheldon Cooper, his TV persona. The play itself may be of sociological interest as a relic of a more innocent age, but it is about as frothy as stale beer. Most of the writing is leaden and obvious. For a few moments late in the first act, it rises to the level of farce, but it fails to offer much in the way of humor, charm or wisdom. (It is simply inconceivable that it won the Pulitzer over "The Glass Menagerie' in 1944. I can only assume that it offered a welcome respite from the anxiety of wartime.) To make matters worse, some of the casting is unfortunate. Jessica Hecht, whom I usually admire, is terribly miscast as Veta. I don't know whether anyone could humanize the stereotypical role of her daughter Myrtle Mae, but Tracie Chimo is not the one. Charles Kimbrough and Larry Bryggman, two old pros, are convincing in their roles; Morgan Spector and Rich Sommer are adequate in theirs. Carol Kane is fine in her usual role of a a ditz. David Rockwell's evocative set of the library a fusty mansion neatly splits in thirds and rotates to become the reception room of Chumley's Rest. Jane Greenwood's costumes vividly recreate the look of the '40s. Scott Ellis's direction lacks effervescence. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes including intermission.