Poor Yella Rednecks

A-

Over six years have passed since Vietgone, Qui Nguyen’s refreshingly original play about a Vietnamese couple who meet in an Arkansas refugee camp, was presented by Manhattan Theater Club. Blending drama, comedy and rap with a comic-book sensibility, it was one of the fresher offerings of the 2016-17 season. Now the entertaining sequel, first presented at South Coast Repertory in 2019, has finally reached New York. Even though it is a sequel, it is absolutely not necessary for you to have seen the first play to enjoy this one. The good news is that most of the talented creative team is back and the off-kilter sensibility of the first play is intact. The new actors playing the central couple, Tong (Maureen Sebastian) and Quang (Ben Levin), are as good as their predecessors. The story picks up five years after the first play with Tong and Quang still struggling to thrive in redneck country. Their son, known as Little Man and portrayed by an expressive puppet created by David Valentine and manipulated by Jon Norman Schneider, is bullied at school, partially for not speaking English. Tong’s feisty mother Huong (the wonderful Samantha Quan) babysits him while Tong is at work as a diner waitress and speaks only Vietnamese with him, so he hears too little English. Other characters include Nhan (Jon Hoche), Quang’s devoted long-time friend, and Bobby (Paco Tolson), Tong’s feckless white former boyfriend. One of the play’s amusing features is the convention than when characters are speaking Vietnamese, we hear perfect English but when English is spoken we get a series of exclamations like “Yeehaw” and random words from pop culture that amount to gibberish. At times of strong emotion, the characters break out in rap (to beats by Shane Rettig) with lyrics one wishes were a little cleverer. A few over-the-top martial arts scenes are very funny. A crisis develops when Quang’s past suddenly catches up with him and jeopardizes his relationship with Tong. Tim Mackabee’s colorful set features huge letters spelling out YELLA that rotate to reveal various settings. Director May Adrales keeps everything moving briskly. Perhaps the play is overstuffed with goodies, but that’s barely a fault. Running time: Two hours 15 minutes, including intermission. For your convenience I have repeated my 2016 review of Vietgone below.

Vietgone

B+

Qui Nguyen’s new play at Manhattan Theatre Club's Stage I is hard to fit into a neat category. While the prevailing tone is comedic, it deals with some very serious issues. Its central focus is a Vietnamese couple who meet in a refugee camp in Arkansas. Quang (Raymond Lee) is a helicopter pilot wracked by guilt for being unable to rescue his wife and children when Saigon fell. Tong (Jennifer Ikeda) is an emotionally closed-off woman who wanted to escape with her younger brother but ended up being forced to take her difficult mother instead. Sexual sparks fly when Tong and Quang meet, but the emotional baggage they carry is a barrier to building a relationship. Besides, Quang wants to return to Vietnam to rejoin his family. We also meet Quang’s best friend, an American naval captain, a translator, a camp guard, a hippy couple, a redneck biker and even a character who purports to be the playwright. All the female roles except Tong are played by Samantha Quan; all the male roles except for Quang are played by Jon Hoche and Paco Tolson. The play incorporates a love story, a road trip with a hilarious kung fu sequence, a send up of ethnic and national stereotypes, broad (sometimes too broad) humor, all in the context of presenting an alternative view of the Vietnam era as seen from the other side. While the play is not a musical, every once in a while, when emotions are running high, a character will suddenly break out into rap. It’s unfortunate that I had just seen Hamilton a week before because the quality of the rap lyrics here (to music by Shane Rettig) can in no way compare to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s work. The cast members are appealing, but the acting is uneven and often unsubtle. The first-rate production benefits from an excellent scenic design by Tim Mackabee, featuring a western scene of a highway with utility poles, power lines and billboards, greatly enhanced by Jared Mezzocchi’s projections. Anthony Tran’s costumes are excellent too. Director May Adrales skillfully holds it all together. It’s an unruly play that could use a slight trim, but its energy and inventiveness go a long way to make up for its shortcomings. I found it refreshing and worthwhile. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes including intermission.

King James

 B

After well-received runs at Steppenwolf in Chicago and Center Theatre Group in Los Angeles, Rajiv Joseph’s (Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo, Describe the Night) two-character play about fandom and friendship has reached New York in a Manhattan Theatre Club production at City Center Stage I. The royal personage of the title is LeBron James, whose basketball career in and out of the Cleveland Cavaliers is the focus of both devotion and frustration for Matt, a manically neurotic wine bar manager, and relatively more grounded Shawn, a would-be writer, who meet when Matt is forced by financial problems to sell his season tickets to the Cavs. The two bond over their shared fandom and become good friends. We observe the ups and downs of their friendship over twelve years at four key moments in LeBron James’s career. Luckily for us, the roles of Matt and Shawn are performed by Chris Perfetti (Sons of the Prophet, The Tutors) and Glenn Davis (Downstate, Wig Out!), who play exceptionally well together. The playwright shows us how shared fandom can serve as a socially acceptable basis for a platonic bromance. Matt is white and Shawn is black, a fact that becomes relevant for a brief scene late in the play. The lively dialog has a convincingly natural flow but I would have liked a stronger narrative arc. Todd Rosenthal’s (August Osage County, Linda Vista) set for the first act presents the rather generic looking wine bar where Matt works; the second act is set in the funky antiques cum upholstery store owned by Matt’s parents, which offers lots of interesting objects to look at. The costumes by Samantha C. Jones are apt. Kenny Leon’s (Soldier’s Play, Topdog/Underdog) direction is smooth. My only serious objection is to the inclusion of a DJ (Khloe Janel) who plays loud hip-hop music before the play and during intermission. Do we really need a trendy version of the national anthem complete with crowd noise before the play begins? In case you are concerned that the play is strictly for knowledgeable sports fans, you need not worry. It is completely accessible to all. Running time: two hours ten minutes including intermission

Summer, 1976

B-

When Manhattan Theatre Club announced a new play by David Auburn starring Laura Linney (The Little Foxes, Time Stands Still) and Jessica Hecht (The Assembled Parties, The Price), I felt a mix of emotions – hope that the playwright might once again achieve the heights of his 2000 Tony winner, Proof; delight at the thought of seeing one of my favorite actresses again; and apprehension at the prospect of seeing the other actress, who is a long way from a favorite of mine. My hope that Auburn would have another hit comparable to Proof was not fulfilled. The play consists mainly of a series of long monologues as two women of a certain age recall the summer they met in Columbus, Ohio long ago. Linney plays Diana, an artist and single mother of a five-year old daughter. Alice, played by Hecht, is the hippie wife of Doug, an economics professor striving for tenure. She meets Diana through a babysitting cooperative that Doug has created. As their two daughters bond, the women become unlikely friends. The recollections of their early friendship and subsequent developments, presented as they sit at opposite ends of a long table, are moderately interesting and sometimes amusing, but, for me at least, less than compelling. In a gimmick that did not work for me, Linney also plays Alice’s husband during certain scenes. Aside from that, Linney is the unaffectedly persuasive pro we have learned to expect. And then there’s Hecht. First of all, the makeup and lighting creatives have done her a great disservice, making her eyes look almost ghoulishly deeply set and her features unnaturally drawn. The unfortunate result is that she looks at least a generation older than Linney, who in real life is a year her senior. Furthermore, Hecht’s acting has always been too mannered for my taste. From the moment she opened her mouth with her broad version of a midwestern accent, I knew that my apprehension was well-founded. I think casting her as Alice was an unfortunate choice. The set by John Lee Beatty (Plaza Suite, Disgraced) is elegantly simple. Linda Cho’s (POTUS, Take Me Out) costume for Hecht shouts rather than whispers “hippie.” Director Daniel Sullivan (Proof, The Little Foxes, The Columnist) does his best to enliven what is a very static play, with limited success. I was not sorry I saw it, but I was disappointed that it wasn’t better. Running time: 95 minutes; no intermission.

Cost of Living

B+

After a successful run at the Williamstown Theatre Festival last summer, Martyna Majok’s (Ironbound) powerful four-character drama has arrived at Manhattan Theatre Club’s Stage I at City Center. The lead character, Eddie (Victor Williams, Luck of the Irish), begins the play with a well-written and well-performed 10-minute monologue that reveals that he is a long-distance truck driver who recently lost his wife. Next we meet Jess (Jolly Abraham, Coram Boy), an attractive woman in her twenties who is applying for a job as helper to John (Gregg Mozgala), a Harvard-educated grad student with cerebral palsy who is confined to a wheelchair. Jess works as a barmaid and needs the extra income. In a flashback, we meet Eddie’s wife Ani (Katy Sullivan) who lost her legs in an accident and is a bundle of rage. Two of the play’s most moving scenes take place in bathrooms where we see Jess shaving and showering John and Eddie giving a bath (and possibly more) to Ani. The play's strengths include  not portraying the disabled characters simplistically and in giving equal time to the needs of their caregivers. Each character is vividly sketched to the point that I wished I knew more about them. Until the final scene, each character interacts with only one other character. In that scene a new heartbreaking connection is made. I wish the author had omitted a brief manipulative reversal at the very end. The entire production is first rate: the acting, the revolving set by Wilson Chin (Aubergine, My Mañana Comes), the character-appropriate costumes by Jessica Pabst (The Ruins of Civilization) and the smooth direction by Jo Bonney (By the Way, Meet Vera Stark). I read that the author expanded this work from a two-character play and the opening monologue. The combination was not totally successful; some of the stitches show. Nevertheless, seeing it is a worthwhile, if painful, experience. Running time: one hour 45 minutes, no intermission.

Ink

A-

Manhattan Theatre Club is presenting the American premiere of James Graham’s (Privacy, This House) London hit with an all-new cast except for Olivier winner Bertie Carvel (Matilda: The Musical) as Rupert Murdoch. When I looked it up, I was surprised to learn that his award was for Best Supporting Actor. I had wrongly assumed that the role of Murdoch would be the lead. After seeing the play, I now understand that the play is less about Murdoch than I expected and more about the team that led The Sun in the year after Murdoch’s purchase in 1969. The role of Larry Lamb (Jonny Lee Miller; After Miss Juile, Frankenstein), the editor Murdoch hired, is at least as prominent as Murdoch’s. The first act is a worthy successor to The Front Page as a love letter to the lost heyday of newspaper publishing. The amazing set by Bunny Christie (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time) features dozens of metal desks piled high and a curved back wall made of rolls of newsprint on which images are projected. The center of the stage is a smallish platform that rises from below with different settings. A tour for a new apprentice shows us the arduous process of setting and printing the paper. I wondered why there was a piano at the side of stage. I got my answer midway through the first act. As Lamb assembles his staff, the cast suddenly bursts into song and dance. The segment works so well that I found myself wishing that the creators had gone all the way and written a musical. The second act traces the newspaper’s first year and the increasingly dubious strategies Lamb pursues to fulfill his faustian promise to Murdoch to overtake The Mirror in sales. He jeopardizes the life of someone close to the paper and finally introduces a titillating Page 3. The excellent ensemble includes David Wilson Barnes, Bill Buell (Bad Habits), Andrew Durand (Head Over Heels), Eden Marryshow, Colin McPhillamy (The Ferryman), Erin Neufer (Nathan the Wise), Kevin Pariseau (The Explorers Club), Rana Roy, Michael Siberry (Junk, Six Degrees of Separation), Robert Stanton (Fuddy Mears, All in the Timing) and Tara Summers (The Hard Problem). Jonny Lee Miller (who did not appear in London) is a serious rival for Carvel at Tony time. Director Rupert Goold (King Charles III) masterfully keeps everything moving along smoothly. The play is a highly theatrical and quite entertaining work. What it is not is a deep exploration of Murdoch and his agenda. Running time: two hours 45 minutes including intermission.

The Cake

C+

After successful productions in L.A. and the Berkshires, Bekah Brunstetter’s (“This Is Us”) comedy with serious overtones has landed in New York at Manhattan Theatre Club’s Stage I. Those expecting a serious look at the legal ramifications of denying a wedding cake to a same sex couple won’t find it here; there is no lawsuit involved. What we get instead is a sympathetic look at a Southern woman whose religious beliefs are out of sync with her loving personality. The bake shop owner, Della, superbly played by Debra Jo Rupp (Becoming Dr. Ruth), is a woman of a certain age in a childless stale marriage who hopes to validate her life by appearing in a televised national bake-off. In baking as in life, Della seeks success by closely adhering to the rules. When Jen (Genevieve Angelson; Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike), the daughter of her late best friend, returns from Brooklyn to plan a hometown wedding, Della is thrilled until she learns that Jen’s intended is a woman, Macy (Marinda Anderson; The Treasurer, Miss You Like Hell) , a journalist with inflexible views on just about any subject. The fact that Macy is African-American doesn’t seem to be a problem. When Della claims to be too busy to bake their wedding cake, Jen is crushed. While Jen may have escaped to Brooklyn, she has not been able to shake deeply ingrained feelings of shame about being a lesbian. In a subplot, Della tries unsuccessfully to rekindle the spark in her marriage with the help of lots of butter cream. Later, when her husband Tim (Dan Daily; Days To Come) finally sees the light, he tries to reciprocate with a heap of mashed potatoes. You will either find these scenes hilarious or gross. The play is interspersed with several droll imaginary interchanges between Della and George (Daily again), the unseen host of the TV series. Will Della be able to overcome her religious strictures to bake the cake? The ending seemed a bit facile. The production is greatly enhanced by an amazing set by John Lee Beatty (Doubt, Proof, Good People) with three revolving sections. The shelves of brightly colored cakes certainly made my mouth water. Tom Broecker’s (Our Mother’s Brief Affair) costumes and Tommy Kurzman’s wigs also make a substantial contribution. Lynne Meadow’s (Linda, Of Good Stock) direction is seamless. The play is entertaining but doesn’t really have much depth. Running time: 90 minutes, no intermission.

The Children

C+

Manhattan Theatre Club has brought this highly praised Royal Court Theatre production of Olivier award-winning playwright Lucy Kirkwood’s dystopian drama to Broadway. After a Fukushima-like disaster has rendered their home uninhabitable, retired nuclear engineers Robin (Ron Cook) and Hazel (Deborah Findlay; Top Girls) have retreated to a cottage on the English coast where they strive to maintain a semblance of normalcy. When they receive a surprise visit from Rose (Francesca Annis), who worked with them at the nuclear plant down the road almost 40 years ago, they are puzzled by the reasons for her visit. Is she there to rekindle an adulterous affair with Robin or does she have a more ominous purpose? Why does the childless Rose express so much interest in their children? All will eventually be revealed but at a pace that was much too glacial for my taste. I found the changes of tone from humor to drama to a dance number and back irritating. The three actors are superb but the relationship of their characters seemed trivial next to the larger theme of their obligation to future generations. If seeing fine British actors in their prime is enough for you, you will enjoy yourself. If you need a spare, tightly-knit, well-integrated piece, you won’t.  Miriam Buether (A Doll’s House, Part 2) designed the set and costumes. James Macdonald (Top Girls, Cloud Nine) directed. Running time: one hour 45 minutes; no intermission.

The Portuguese Kid

C-

This alleged romantic comedy by John Patrick Shanley (Outside Mullingar, Doubt) at Manhattan Theatre Club is about as buoyant as a lead balloon and as original as a Trump joke, of which, alas, there are a few. Jason Alexander (Broadway Bound, Jerome Robbins’ Broadway) plays Barry Dragonetti, a second-rate lawyer in Providence, RI who employs his overbearing mother (Mary Testa; The Government Inspector, Xanadu) as his receptionist. Twice-widowed Atalanta Lagana (Sherie Renee Scott; Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, The Front Page), who has known Barry since she rescued him from a Portuguese mugger when they were teenagers, wants him to sell her house, if they can agree on his commission. Barry has recently married a despondent young beauty Patty (Aimee Carrero; What Rhymes with America) who had been cruelly jilted by her boyfriend Freddie Imbrossi (Pico Alexander; What I Did Last Summer, Punk Rock). Atalanta’s latest boy toy, it turns out, is of course, none other than Freddie. Even the dimmest wit can figure out how this will turn out. That would be fine if the process of getting there were amusing or surprising. It isn’t. There are some funny one-liners, but far fewer hits than misses. Scott was the only one who appeared to be having a good time. The others acted as if they wished they were somewhere else. I know I did. The revolving sets by John Lee Beatty and the costumes by William Ivey Long were up to their usual high standards. I wish I could say the same about the efforts of the playwright, who also directed. If your requirements for mindless entertainment are very modest, they may be met. Running time: one hour 45 minutes; no interimssion.

Sell/Buy/Date *** B

It’s hard to believe that 12 years have passed since I first saw the incredibly talented Sarah Jones perform “Bridge & Tunnel,” her love letter to the immigrants of New York City, in which she created about a dozen characters of different ethnicities. It moved to Broadway and was awarded a special Tony. Since then, Ms. Jones has been busy with a variety of activities, including serving as a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador and advocating for women in the sex industry. When Manhattan Theatre Club announced her long-awaited return to the New York stage, it was cause for celebration. Once again Ms. Jones plays multiple characters, loosely connected by some involvement in selling or buying sex. The framing device has a British professor at some future time giving a lecture on changing attitudes toward sex work over the decades. Her lecture is enhanced by BERT (bio-empathetic resonant technology) which presents her students (and the audience, of course) with not only the words, but also the emotions and memories of each research subject. Most of the characters are vividly created and some of the points they make are thought-provoking. The lecture is punctuated by several interruptions during which the professor attempts to resolve a problem that is delaying her appointment as head of a new department. I thought this subplot undercut rather than enhanced the main idea. Dane Laffrey’s elegantly simple set is beautifully lit by Eric Southern. Carolyn Cantor is the director. While is was a great pleasure to see Sarah Jones again, I was slightly disappointed by the material. Running time: 85 minutes, no intermission.

The Ruins of Civilization ***

For its final play of the season, Manhattan Theatre Club is presenting the world premiere of an unsettling drama by award-winning British playwright Penelope Skinner (The Village Bike). The play is set in a dystopian England of the future where the government tightly regulates most aspects of life and empathy is in short supply. Silver (Tim Daly) is an anal-retentive writer who has been doing research on a novel for nine years. His sensitive wife Dolores (Rachael Holmes) has been troubled by things they have just seen on a trip to an island that is about to vanish due to climate change. Joy (Orlagh Cassidy) is the government functionary who visits the couple periodically to check on Dolores. Apparently the couple’s stipend has been temporarily trimmed until Dolores gets over having thoughts that are against government policy. Without consulting her husband, Dolores invites Mara (Roxanna Hope), an immigrant from the doomed island, to occupy their spare room. Complications ensue. Through seemingly offhand remarks, Skinner builds a chilling picture of a society that is plausible enough to make one uncomfortable. The actors were fine except for an occasional stumble over accents. Neil Patel’s attractive set has subtle hints of futurity and Jessica Pabst’s costumes, particularly the jackets and shoes for Silver, are stylishly modern. Some aspects of the plot do not stand up to close examination, the emotional temperature could use a boost and the first act could use a trim. Nevertheless, the play held my interest and raised issues that merit our attention. Leah C. Gardiner directed. Running time: 2 hours, 5 minutes, including intermission.

NOTE: The three most interesting plays of the MTC season were all by foreign playwrights (Florian Zeller, Nick Payne and Penelope Skinner). Three others were by MTC old timers — Richard Greenberg, David Lindsay-Abaire and John Patrick Shanley. Add in a mediocre revival (Fool for Love) and an absolutely ghastly new play (Important Hats of the Twentieth Century). Can MTC do better? Hope springs eternal.

Incognito ***

Nick Payne’s intriguing play at Manhattan Theatre Club is cerebral both figuratively and literally: it’s brainy and it’s about the brain. Just as quantum physics played an important role in “Constellations,” his last play at MTC, neuroscience is at the center of this one. In an author’s note, Payne says that the play is loosely based on real events and cites ten sources that inspired him. The three main narratives are about Thomas Harvey, the pathologist who took Einstein’s brain and wasted the rest of his career trying to find something special about it; Henry Maison, a young man who, after experimental surgery for epilepsy, was unable to form new memories for the rest of his long life; and Martha Murphy, a fictional middle-aged neuropsychologist with a dim view of human autonomy, trying to reboot her life after a divorce. There are also several subsidiary stories woven into the narrative. The gimmick is that all 20 roles are played by four actors — Geneva Carr, Charlie Cox, Heather Lind and Morgan Spector —who transition between characters with lightning speed. Text on the rear wall identifies the play’s three sections — Encoding, Storing and Retrieving. This segmentation seemed arbitrary and the moment of stylized movement and gestures that introduced each one was an unnecessary distraction. As in any pastiche, some stories are better than others. I wished that some had been prolonged and others had been attenuated or even eliminated. I found Martha’s story not very compelling, but was extremely moved by Henry’s tale. The actors are wonderful, particularly Carr and Cox. Scott Pask’s strikingly simple set consists of a large circular platform with four chairs backed by a semicircular wall, all in charcoal, with a ring of lights above the wall. Catherine Zuber’s costumes are all in various shades of gray. Director Doug Hughes skillfully juggles the many strands so that the audience can usually find its bearings without undue difficulty. I admired Payne’s ambition and intelligence even when an occasional scene misfired. Running time: 90 minutes; no intermission.

Our Mother's Brief Affair *

Noone knows how to pander to a Manhattan Theatre Club audience better than Richard Greenberg. String together some witty one-liners, throw in a Jewish matron, add a few Yiddish words, mention Great Neck at least once and, voila, MTC awaits with open arms. If you can get Linda Lavin to play the matron, all the better. And so we now have this strange lumpy play occupying the stage of the Friedman Theater. Anna (Lavin), on her deathbed for the umpteenth time and not fully of sound mind, confides to her son Seth (Gregg Keller), a gay solitary obit writer, that she had an affair when he was a teenager. Having trouble processing this information on his own, he summons his twin sister Abby (Kate Arrington) back from Southern California, leaving her wife and infant behind. Anna claims that while Seth was taking unwanted viola lessons at Juilliard, she was carrying on with a man (John Procaccino) she met on a park bench in Central Park who said his name was Fred Weintraub. SPOILER ALERT: Read no further if you don’t want to know an important plot point. Fred later reveals that he is actually David Greenglass, the man largely responsible for sending his sister Ether Rosenberg to the electric chair. (I confess that I find it distasteful when a playwright drags in a well-known historical moment, be it 9/11 or the Rosenberg case, to prop up his play.) To remind the audience who Greenglass was, director Lynn Meadow turns up the house lights so Seth can give us a short lecture, thereby destroying whatever mood had been established. David's confession is not a turnoff for Anna who responds with a confession of her own, recalling a shameful incident from her early adulthood. Time passes, Anna worsens, moves to assisted living and the family home is sold. Seth and Abby have their doubts about the truthfulness of Anna’s story. Unfortunately, Anna is so unsympathetic and her adult children so emotionally stunted that it is hard to develop much concern for them. The exposition involves long scenes of Anna and Phil/David reenacting her story while Seth and Abby are reduced to standing around and injecting an occasional sarcastic remark. Keller and Arrington make the best of their underwritten roles. Procaccino is fine and Lavin is Lavin. She looks smashing in her Burberry coat and still has great legs. That seemed enough to satisfy the audience. Santo Loquasto's understated set is a far cry from MTC's typically lavish set designs. Running time: two hours including intermission.

Ripcord ***

Playwright David Lindsay-Abaire has a new addition to his long string of successes at Manhattan Theatre Club. His new comedy stars Marylouise Burke, his oft-time muse, and Holland Taylor (replacing the originally announced Mary Louise Wilson) as Marilyn and Abby, residents of the Bristol Place Assisted Living Facility. Over four years, the unfriendly secretive  Abby has driven away a long string of roommates by her acerbic personality. Her latest, Marilyn, drives her wild with her cheerful gregariousness. Marilyn is quite happy where she is and has no intention of leaving. The roommates make a secret bet: if Abby wins, Marilyn moves out; if Marilyn wins, she gets the bed by the window. The attempt to win leads the pair to increasingly outrageous and hilarious stunts. Marilyn enlists her daughter Cathleen (Rachel Dratch) and son-in-law Derek (Daoud Heidami) in her campaign. Scotty (Nate Miller), a good-natured attendant and would-be actor, tries unsuccessfully to keep the peace. The second act takes on a somewhat darker tone as the competition gets more personal and nastier. A new character, Benjamin (Glenn Fitzgerald) makes an appearance. The resolution was a bit disappointing, to me at least. Burke and Taylor are outstanding as the rival roommates. The supporting cast is strong too. The play resembles Lindsay-Abaire’s early playful works such as “Fuddy Mears” more than his more serious recent plays like “Good People.” David Hyde Pierce has a real knack for directing comedy. Alexander Dodge’s clever scenic design switches seamlessly between their shared room and a few other very different locations. Jennifer von Mayrhauser’s costumes are apt. All in all, it’s a very entertaining, but not very substantial work. Running time: two hours including intermission.

Fool for Love **

Full disclosure: While I have often admired Sam Shepard as an actor, his plays have never appealed to me. The overwrought characters and situations just do not draw me in. The present play, a Williamstown export to Broadway via Manhattan Theatre Club, is no exception. Had it not turned up on my subscription, I never would have seen it. Sam Rockwell and Nina Arianda play Eddie and May, a pair of sometime lovers who can’t get along with or without each other. May has tried to start a new life in a small town on the edge of the Mojave Desert, but Eddie has tracked her down and shown up at her rundown motel room to try to rekindle their relationship. Gordon Joseph Weiss is The Old Man, who, although presently unseen by the pair, has played a crucial role in shaping their lives. Tom Pelphrey plays Martin, May’s intended date for the evening, with delightful obtuseness. Ariana and Weiss are fine. Although Rockwell certainly aced his lasso lessons, I wish he displayed more of the charisma that would explain his hold over May. The big secret seemed more like a plot contrivance than an organic development. Dane Laffrey’s set for the motel room goes beyond seedy. Anita Yavich’s costumes are apt. The lighting design by Justin Townsend and the sound design by Ryan Rumery add much to the production. The initial scenes seemed a bit slack, but director Daniel Aukin picks up the pace as the play progresses. I wish I had found it more involving. Running time: 70 minutes, no intermission. It seemed longer.

Heisenberg **

When I reviewed Bluebird at the Atlantic Theater in 2011, I said: “Don't be brokenhearted if you weren't able to get tickets to see Simon Russell Beale in Simon Stephens' 1998 play, now in a sold-out run at Atlantic Stage 2.” I could say the same about his new play at Manhattan Theatre Club. Unless you are a die-hard Mary-Louise Parker fan, you won’t be missing much if you didn’t score tickets to this one. After seeing three of his plays (Harper Regan, Bluebird and Punk Rock) and his adaptation of the book The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, I have concluded that Stephens shows much more talent as an adaptor than as a playwright. In this two-hander, Parker once again plays the quirky, troubled soul that she was born to play — over and over and over. She is joined by the impressive Denis Arndt, an actor with a long list of regional credits, but who is new to me. Parker plays Georgie Burns, a 40-ish American expat in London, who, as the play begins, has just impulsively kissed Alex Priest (Arndt), a 75-year-old butcher sitting on a bench in a train station. The motor-mouthed Georgie then practically drowns Alex in a sea of words. A week later she shows up at his shop unexpectedly. The nature of her interest in this older man is a mystery. We eventually learn the reason or, at least, the purported one. With Georgie there’s always uncertainty, because she is prone to expressing two diametrically opposed views simultaneously. (Perhaps that’s where the title comes from.) We follow their interactions over the next six weeks. I will say no more about the slender plot. It’s a tour de force for the actors, particularly Parker, but it didn’t otherwise hold much interest for me. City Center’s Studio at Stage II has been reconfigured with the audience on both sides of the elongated stage. Except for two tables and two chairs, the set by Mark Wendland is bare. The costumes by Michael Krass do not call attention to themselves. Mark Brokaw’s direction is uncluttered. Running time: 85 minutes, no intermission.

Lost Lake ***

In the 13 years since winning the Pulitzer and a Tony for Proof, playwright David Auburn’s work has rarely been seen in New York. His 2011 adaptation of The New York Idea was rather flat and his 2012 bipolay about Joseph Alsop, The Columnist, did not have much to offer beyond a juicy role for John Lithgow. Now he is back at Manhattan Theatre Club with this two-character play about Veronica (Tracie Thoms), an African-American nurse from New York City who rents a summer home in Putnam County for a week and Hogan (John Hawkes), the man she rents it from. The widowed Veronica is a hard-working nurse who just wants to offer her two children a week in the country. Hogan, a free spirit who could all too easily be dismissed as one of life’s losers, is a man unable to deliver on his good intentions. The landlord-tenant relationship that throws them together develops into something different as they confide in each other and eventually reach out to help each other. It is a pleasure to see award-winning indie film actor Hawkes on stage. Thoms, whose previous work I was not familiar with, holds her own performing with him. Auburn has written two characters that are both vivid and compassionate. The ending may not bring us to a happy place, but the journey is worthwhile. Daniel Sullivan’s direction is skillful. J. Michael Griggs’s set is appropriately both rustic and a bit seedy. Jess Goldstein’s costumes are apt. Running time: 1 hour, 35 minutes; no intermission.

The Country House ***

Donald Margulies’s new play at Manhattan Theatre Club could well bear the subtitle “Variations on Chekhovian Themes.” Characters and situations from “The Seagull” and “Uncle Vanya” are borrowed, tweaked and conflated to produce a clever mash-up that works more often than not. The action takes place in the Williamstown home of Anna Patterson (Blythe Danner), an acclaimed actress of a certain age who is in town to play the title role in Mrs. Warren’s Profession. For the first anniversary of her daughter Kathy’s death, she is joined by her granddaughter Susie (Sarah Steele), a senior at Yale; her daughter’s widower Walter (David Rasche), a successful Hollywood director who has his new girlfriend Nell (Kate Jennings Grant), an actress, in tow; and Anna’s unhappy son Elliot (Eric Lange), an unsuccessful actor and would-be playwright. The family are joined by a surprise guest, Michael Astor (Daniel Sunjata), a television celebrity who has come to town to play The Guardsman. As a young actor, he had appeared with Anna and had an affair with Kathy; he is still catnip to three generations of women. Eleven years ago, Nell and Elliot had acted together in Louisville, leaving Elliot smitten with unrequited love for her. All this is laid out cleverly in the first act with amusing dialogue. And then things head south. The second act seemed formulaic and the third act, which hews too slavishly to Chekhov, did not offer any sense of resolution. The play is peppered with droll observations on the state of theater and film. The cast are uniformly excellent, John Lee Beatty’s set is luscious, Rita Ryack’s costumes are appropriate and Daniel Sullivan’s direction is smooth and assured. Although the destination was a disappointment, it was an entertaining ride for most of the journey. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes including intermission

Tales from Red Vienna ***

Although far from flawless, this new play by David Grimm is the most interesting thing I have seen at Manhattan Theatre Club so far this season. It presents a vivid cross-section of Viennese life right after World War I. Austria has lost its empire, the socialists are in control in Vienna, the resentful aristocrats have lost their titles and the Jews are, as so often, convenient scapegoats. Helena Altman (Nina Arianda) is a war widow forced to take extreme measures to survive. Edda Schmidt (Kathleen Chalfant) is her loyal longtime housekeeper. "Mutzi" von Fessendorf (Tina Benko) is a haughty self-centered childhood friend who has ulterior motives for introducing Helena to Bela Hoyos (Michael Esper), a handsome Hungarian socialist journalist. Rudy Zuckermaier (Michael Goldsmith) is a young Jewish grocery deliveryman with a crush on Helena. Karl Hupka (Lucas Hall) is a mysterious figure about whom I dare not say more.  In this era of 90-minute plays sans intermission, it is a novelty to see a play with three acts and two intermissions. The play starts with a gripping scene that certainly gets your attention. The rest of the first act plays out well, but the second act is considerably weaker with an abrupt turn to melodrama. For me, the final act did not provide a satisfactory resolution. Why then, you may ask, am I giving it three stars? The two main reasons are Arianda and Chalfant, who are among our finest stage actresses. It is always a privilege to see them in action. Also, I credit the play for its ambitions, even though it doesn't fully realize them. Esper needs to turn up the volume a bit and Benko needs to tone things down a smidgen. With over two weeks until opening night, I suspect that everything will be more polished by then. John Lee Beatty's set design is appropriately oppressive and Anita Yavich's costumes are very good. Kate Whoriskey's direction does not call attention to itself. Running time: 2 hours 25 minutes including 2 intermissions.

Outside Mullingar ***

If you are willing to turn off your critical faculties and yield to the skillful manipulations of a master, you can have a good time at John Patrick Shanley's new play at Manhattan Theatre Club. Not for nothing has it been called the Irish "Moonstruck." It too is a rather slight but enjoyable rom-com with a prickly couple at the center. Fortunately Anthony and Rosemary are played by Shanley veteran Brian F. O'Byrne and, in her Broadway debut, Debra Messing, who play well off each other and are joined by two wonderful actors, Peter Maloney and Dearbhla Molloy as Anthony's father and Rosemary's mother. The wisp of a plot involves a spiteful real estate transaction 30 years prior, the alienation between father and son, the loneliness of Irish farm life and a long-smoldering unrequited love. There are some fine set pieces that allow each actor to shine, but for me, a ludicrous revelation in the final scene undid some of the good will the play had earned. John Lee Beatty's set design is topnotch and Catherine Zuber's costumes are fine. Doug Hughes's direction is assured. Running time: 80 minutes, no intermission.