The Beast in the Jungle

C+

The last time composer John Kander, book writer David Thompson and director/choreographer Susan Stroman worked together at the Vineyard Theatre, the result was the critically acclaimed The Scottsboro Boys, which went on to Broadway where it had the dubious distinction of being nominated for 12 Tonys but winning none. That production had the added benefit of lyrics by the late Fred Ebb. This time out, what the creative trio has come up with is not a traditional musical, but a “dance play” with no lyrics and relatively little dialogue. Since Stroman’s last dance play was the Tony winner Contact, the return to that form sounded promising, especially with a cast led by Peter Friedman (The Slug Bearers of Kayrol Island, The Treasurer), Tony Yazbeck (On the Town) and Irina Dvorovenko (On Your Toes at Encores). Alas, the sum of all these talents does not approach the level of either previous collaboration. The inspiration for the book is Henry James’ well-regarded novella about a self-centered man so fearful that some terrible event will upend his life that he does not allow himself to be open to love. Since the tale by James is long on psychology but short on events, Thompson had his work cut out for him to turn it into a viable book. He did not hesitate to add new characters and events to liven things up. Stroman had varying success in selecting aspects of the story that could be told through dance. Some of the dance numbers are quite effective while others are embarrassingly kitchy. The chorus of six female dancers often seems superfluous. Kander’s music made surprisingly little impression on me. The scenic design by Michael Curry (The Lion King, Frozen), sensitively lit by Ben Stanton (Dot, The Low Road), has some striking elements. The three leads as well as Teagle F. Bougere (Is God Is) all perform well. Much as I admire all involved for their efforts, I regret to say that I found the results underwhelming. Running time: one hour 45 minutes, no intermission.

The Treasurer

B-

Playwright Max Posner is a lucky man to have a Playwrights Horizons debut with a production featuring Peter Friedman (Circle Mirror Transformation, The Heidi Chronicles) and Deanna Dunagan (August: Osage County), directed by David Cromer (The Band’s Visit, Our Town). Friedman plays The Son, a middle-aged man of calm demeanor who confesses in the long opening monologue that he expects to go to Hell for not loving his mother Ida. He has good reason not to because she abandoned her family when he was 14. She went on to a second marriage, lived profligately and fancied herself the belle of Albany. When her second husband dies, the party is over and she must adjust to a diminished lifestyle. The Son is tasked by his siblings with the job of managing her finances. She willfully resists his attempts to trim her sails. Whenever the two of them lock horns, we see how hard it is for him to say “no” to her. The play darkens as we realize that she is sinking into dementia. Marinda Anderson (Bella: An American Tall Tale) and Pun Bandhu (Wit, Plenty) play an array of people she interacts with, including a fundraiser for the Albany Philharmonic, a Talbot’s salesperson, a stranger she calls to find out why she keeps remembering a particular phone number, and a bedding store salesperson. Anderson also plays a pregnant woman sitting next to The Son on a plane. There are some very funny bits along the way, some more relevant than others. My favorites were a conference call during which the siblings try to choose an appropriate dog for Ida and a scene, overlong but still hilarious, in which The Son attempts to answer the security questions to log onto his computer. The airplane scene fell flat and the need for a second scene with Ida and a salesperson was questionable. The play takes a turn for the worse near the end that erased some, but not all, of my positive feelings. It is uneven and fragmented and could benefit from further work. Nevertheless, Posner’s writing has a quirky energy that shows promise for the future. The set by Laura Jellinek (Mary Jane, A Life) is problematic. The way it is divided, there are scenes where audience members on a given side of the theater will not see the actor speaking. There is an elaborate unfolding of the set for one short scene that is one of the play’s least interesting. Lucy Mackinnon’s projections before the play opens are wasted because they are shown on a back wall with patterned wallpaper that is partially blocked from the view of much of the audience. David Hyman’s costumes for Ida are wonderful. Director Cromer is only partially successful in pulling it all together. While it doesn’t seem quite ready for prime time, it is an imaginative take on an all too relevant problem and affords the opportunity to see two top-notch actors at work. Running time: one hour 35 minutes; no intermission.

The Nether **

After a highly acclaimed London run that included a West End transfer, Jennifer Haley’s mashup of a police procedural and a sci-fi story is now having its New York premiere in an MCC production at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. The Nether is what the internet has become in the near future, an online medium where virtual reality is the main attraction. Since trees have disappeared in the real world, even the sight of an online forest can offer comfort. Schools have been largely supplanted by interactive educational games. As on the internet, porn is an important part of The Nether. As the play opens Detective Morris (Merritt Wever) is interviewing Sims (Frank Wood), a man she suspects of operating a virtual realm called The Hideaway, a Victorian estate where avatars of pedophiles can anonymously have their way with children. One issue raised is whether, since the “children” are actually avatars of adults, there is anything immoral about it. The detective is also questioning Doyle (Peter Friedman), a school teacher in his 60’s who frequents The Hideaway, offering him immunity if he will provide evidence to nail Sims. We also meet Woodnut (Ben Rosenfield), an undercover agent sent to gather evidence, and, most notably, Iris (Sophia Anne Caruso), a nine-year old at The Hideaway, much favored both by “guests” and Papa (Sims’s avatar). There are some surprising developments. It all sounds more interesting than it turns out to be. After reading the ecstatic London reviews, I feel that the problem is a deeply flawed production. The set, by Laura Jellinek, concentrates on the drab interrogation room and merely gives us hints of The Hideaway’s charms, whereas in London the scenic design went to great lengths to show its seductive beauty. Another weakness, at least for me, is Wever’s performance, which I found monotonously off-putting. To see Peter Friedman and Frank Wood is, as always, a pleasure. Rosenfield is quite effective and Caruso is amazing. Jessica Pabst's costumes are excellent. Anne Kauffman’s direction did not pull things together for me. A botched opportunity. Most memorable line: “Don’t tell me that you never fucked an elf!” Running time: 75 minutes, no intermission.

Fly by Night **

This new musical, now in previews at Playwrights Horizons, tries so hard to be likable that I am feeling guilty that I am unable to surrender uncritically to its charms. Three graduate drama students at Yale (Will Connolly, Michael Mitnick and Kim Rosenstock) wrote it for a student production five years ago. It has since been produced in Palo Alto and Dallas, where it received enthusiastic reviews. Its plot concerns Harold (Adam Chanler-Berat), a nerdy young sandwich maker in New York who falls for two sisters from South Dakota — Daphne (Patti Murin), a bubbly extrovert who wants to make it as an actress in New York, and Miriam (Allison Case), the introverted older sister Daphne has dragged with her to New York, who enjoys being a waitress and would rather be back home looking at the stars. That’s my first problem: the two sisters are such complete opposites that I found it hard to believe that anyone could fall for both of them. In addition to the central triangle, we meet Harold’s recently widowed father (the always excellent Peter Friedman), his cranky boss Crabble (the fine Michael McCormick); Joey Storms (Bryce Reness), a wealthy playwright/producer/director who takes Daphne as his muse, and, finally, the narrator (the admirable Henry Stram), whose various roles include the sisters’ mother and a gypsy fortune teller, and who keeps the audience apprised of the play’s many time shifts back and forth during the year leading up to the great Northeast blackout of 1965. My second problem with the show was that I didn’t find the central characters nearly as interesting as the people who surround them. Harold’s father and his boss are considerably more vivid than Harold. Why Harold behaves so thoughtlessly to his father was not clear. The sisters seemed more like bundles of characteristics than characters. The music, played by an onstage band of four, is serviceable and perhaps more than that for those who like rock. There is one ditty that you will have trouble getting out of your head. The authors are skillful at knitting their material together: a song heard early on develops entirely new meaning by the time it returns. The climactic blackout is a well-played narrative device to knit many strands together. I give the authors credit for not flinching at presenting moments of sadness. The second act, after a promising start, began to drag. I think the play would gain from a substantial trim that would allow it to be performed without an intermission breaking the flow. The uncluttered unit set by David Korins is quite attractive. Jeff Croiter’s lighting design adds much to the play. Paloma Young’s costumes are appropriate. Carolyn Cantor’s direction is fluid. It’s hard to imagine a better production. Whether the slightness of the material can support this deluxe treatment is another matter. Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes including intermission.

The Open House ***

Another day, another play about a dysfunctional family. Since my two previous experiences with Will Eno's work were negative -- I hated "Thom Pain (based on nothing)" and was bored with "Middletown" -- I planned to skip his new play at Signature Theatre until a respected friend persuaded me it to see it. I won't go so far as to say that the third time was a charm, but I did find this droll absurdist comedy by far the most entertaining of the three. The unnamed family consists of the tyrannical Father (Peter Friedman), confined to a wheelchair by a stroke, Mother (Carolyn McCormick), a shell of a woman after years of living with a verbally abusive husband, Uncle (Michael Countryman), Father's sad sack widowed brother, and Son (Danny McCarthy) and Daughter (Hannah Bos), the two adult children who have returned home for their parents' anniversary. Father's vicious tongue is a deadly weapon, ready to wound anyone who dares to engage him. Even the family dog has fled. Unbeknownst to his family, Father has decided to sell the house. The high concept is that each of the five characters we meet leaves the house and is replaced by a new character played by the same actor. Before play's end, the stage is occupied by a much happier bunch -- a real estate agent, a painter-landscaper, a couple who might buy the house and their attorney. It's a clever stunt, but I refuse to glean any deep metaphysical thoughts from it. The cast is excellent (especially Friedman), the living room set by Antje Ellermann is picture perfect, Bobby Frederick Tilley II's costumes are fine and Oliver Butler's direction is smooth. I liked it enough that I bought a ticket for Eno's upcoming Broadway debut "The Realistic Joneses." Running time: 75 minutes, no intermission.

The Great God Pan ***

(Please click on the title to see the complete review.)
Amy Herzog's new play now in previews at Playwrights Horizons is never less than interesting, but does not provide the same level of satisfaction her previous play, 4000 Miles, did, at least not for me. If I had to state the theme, I would say it is the vicissitude of childhood memories, e.g. what is remembered, what is buried, what is simply forgotten, what is perceived as memory but was acquired from others, how memories of the same event differ. The high cost of being emotionally withholding is another issue. The seven vivid characters Herzog has created are superbly portrayed by a uniformly strong cast. Jamie (Jeremy Strong) is a 32-year-old freelance writer who struggles to piece together a living. Paige (Sarah Goldberg), his girlfriend of 6 years, is a former dancer whose career was ended abruptly by an injury, and is now studying to be a nutritional counselor. At the very moment when their relationship is in a severe crisis, Jamie is upset by a visit from Frank (Keith Nobbs), a former playmate whom he hasn't seen in 25 years, who has filed charges against his father for abusing him as a child. Frank's suggestion that Jamie might also have been a victim upsets Jamie's equilibrium. His conversations with his parents Cathy (Becky Ann Baker) and Doug (Peter Friedman) are far from comforting. His visit to his now senile former babysitter Polly (Joyce van Patten) does not provide answers. The remaining character, Joelle (Erin Wilhelmi), is a bulimic patient of Paige's. I suppose Paige's relationship with Joelle is intended to mirror her relationship with Jamie, but I did not feel their two scenes together were an integral part of the play. A final scene between Frank and Jamie ends the play on an ambiguous note. Carolyn Cantor's direction is assured. Mark Wendland's set of a forest glade with panels that pop out to form benches and tables is lovely, but distracting. Kaye Voyce's costumes serve the characters well. Running time: 90 minutes without intermission.

Question: Are there any American playwrights left out there who can write a two-act play?