Becky Nurse of Salem

C

When a MacArthur Fellow playwright (Sarah Ruhl) and a Tony-winning director (Rebecca Taichman) return to Lincoln Center Theater, scene of two of their earlier successes (The Oldest Boy, How To Transcend a Marriage), with a new play starring Tony winner (Deirdre O’Connell), expectations are going to be high. I regret to report that at the preview I saw today Ruhl’s odd dark comedy not only did not meet my expectations, but did not even engage my interest. Becky Nurse, a descendant of Rebecca Nurse, who was hanged as a witch in 1692, is a 62-year-old woman who works as a tour guide at Salem’s Museum of Witchcraft. She is someone who goes through life shooting herself in the foot. Her failure to stick to the script for the museum tour gets her fired by the museum’s uptight director Shelby (Tina Benko). Her teen-aged granddaughter Gail (Alicia Crowder) whom she has been raising, is currently hospitalized for depression. Gail’s mother died from an opioid overdose and grandma is secretly addicted too. Becky’s only friend seems to be noble barkeep Bob (Bernard White), who had been her high school boyfriend but married someone else. Becky disapproves of Gail’s new friend Stan (Julian Sanchez), a Wiccan who introduces Becky to a modern witch (Candy Buckley) for help solving her problems. Complications arise. Becky goes to jail and has visions of the original Salem trials. Thomas Jay Ryan doubles as jailer and judge. The game actors are committed to their roles. Riccardo Hernandez's minimalist set has rolling modules that efficiently set the scene. I could have done without the jail-cell toilet. Emily Rebholz's costumes are apt.The script mixes a look at Salem’s complicated relationship to its history, a response to Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, a nod to the mania of Trumpism, a superficial exploration of witchcraft and a cautionary tale about opioid addiction. The mix does not blend well. I was left wondering what the point was. On the plus side, it provides employment for a lot of talented people. Running time: two hours, five minutes including intermission.

For Peter Pan on Her 70th Birthday

D

Among my many quirks is a longtime inexplicable aversion to Peter Pan and anything or anyone closely related to it, Mary Martin included. Therefore, I probably should have skipped the Playwrights Horizons production of this play based on Sarah Ruhl’s memories of growing up in a large Irish Catholic family in Iowa. However, since I have enjoyed some of her plays (Stage Kiss, The Oldest Boy, In the Next Room or The Vibrator Play) and have been a keen admirer of both Kathleen Chalfant (Wit) and Lisa Emery (Marjorie Prime, Six Degrees of Separation), I decided to take a chance on it. Big mistake. The play is structured as three long scenes. After a charming monologue by Chalfant in front of the curtain, we move to the hospital room where five middle-aged siblings played by Chalfant, Daniel Jenkins, Keith Reddin, David Chandler and Emery have gathered for the impending death of their father (Ron Crawford). Because Chalfant’s relative age reads older, it took me a while to realize that she was their sister and not their mother. The excruciating death scene seemed interminable, even without the long pauses that director Les Waters has inserted. The long middle scene presents the five siblings sitting around a table drinking Irish whiskey and reminiscing. Whenever sharp political differences threaten to intrude, younger sister Wendy (Emery) restores the peace. This scene also has a fantastical element which I will not divulge. In the long final scene, the siblings have been transported to Neverland as Peter Pan, Wendy, the Lost Boys and Captain Hook. Allusions to reluctant adulthood and mortality abound. Also, there’s a well-staged sword fight and some neat flying. The acting is strong. The set by David Zinn opens up nicely for the final scene. Kristopher Castle’s costumes are apt. Since the play clearly has deep personal meaning for Ruhl and was written as a gift to her mother, who actually played Peter Pan in her youth, it pains me to be so negative about it. Nevertheless, at no point did the play really engage me. Running time: 90 minutes, no intermission. It seemed much longer.

How To Transcend a Happy Marriage

B-

In case the bird-headed huntress featured on James McMullan’s wonderful poster for Sarah Ruhl’s new play at Lincoln Center Theater is insufficient warning to expect something unusual, the dead goat hanging upside down over the living room set should surely do the job. An attractive young woman removes it from the hook and carries it off before the play proper begins. A fortyish couple, George (Marisa Tomei) [was it really necessary for the playwright to name the female lead George?] and Paul (Oscar Metwally) are having dinner at the suburban home of their closest friends, Jane (Robin Weigert) and Michael (Brian Hutchison). Jane mentions Pip (Lena Hall), a temp in her office who is both polyamorous and hunts her own meat. They are all intrigued and decide to invite Pip and her two live-in lovers, Freddie (David McElwee) and David (Austin Smith) for a New Year’s Eve party. The party proceeds rather well as they discover such common interests as Pythagoras and Shakespeare. They move on to a karaoke session that spins out of control. Their revels are interrupted by the untimely arrival home of the hosts’ 16-year-old daughter Jenna (Naian Gonzalez Norvind.) The dialogue is smart, funny and sexy, the actors have achieved a fine ensemble and the direction is seamless, once again demonstrating how well-attuned Rebecca Taichman (The Oldest Boy) is to Ruhl’s sensibility. The set design by David Zine and costumes by Susan Hilferty are first-rate. While the first act is nearly perfect, the play has serious second-act problems. An attempt by Pip to teach George to hunt deer has unfortunate consequences. In the scene that follows, there is a sudden introduction of possibly magical events, which, to me, weakens rather than strengthens the play. Freddie and David become mere plot contrivances. Worst of all, we are forced to question or even invalidate what we have seen with our own eyes in the first act. The play partially recovers its footing, but not soon enough to restore all the positive feelings it generated before intermission. While I have no problem with magical realism, I don't feel it works here. The points that I thought Ruhl wanted to make about the limits or limitlessness of love and the difficulties of parent and child to acknowledge each other’s sexuality do not need magical embellishment. It’s a flawed play with a very enjoyable first act. Running time: one hour 50 minutes including intermission.

The Oldest Boy ****

Lincoln Center Theater is presenting the world premiere of this fascinating work by Sarah Ruhl, one of our most versatile and interesting playwrights. Her plays are so varied that it is difficult to find a common denominator other than flashes of her intelligence and humor. The present work almost has the aura of a fairy tale. An American woman identified only as Mother (a superb Celia Keenan-Bolger) is married to a Tibetan refugee (James Yaegashi) who owns a restaurant in an unnamed American city. Each of them has broken an engagement to marry. One day two Tibetan Buddhist monks (Jon Norman Schneider and James Saito) pay an unexpected visit. They think that the family’s three-year old son may be the reincarnation of an important Buddhist teacher. When the son (Ernest Abuba) passes their tests, they are convinced that he is indeed their late teacher reborn and ask to take him back to India, their home in exile, to be educated in their monastery. I will say no more about the outcome. Rebecca Taichman, who has directed many of Ruhl’s previous plays, once again demonstrates her affinity for Ruhl’s sensibility. It is hard to imagine a better production. The sets by Mimi Lien, the gorgeous costumes by Anita Yavich, the evocative lighting by Japhy Weideman, the sound design by Darron L. West, the puppetry by Matt Acheson, the choreography by Barney O’Hanlon and Taichman’s skillful direction combined to weave an almost hypnotic spell over me. It was a stimulating experience. Running time: 2 hours including intermission.

Stage Kiss ***

Sarah Ruhl’s delightful backstage comedy, now in previews at Playwrights Horizons, is at heart a love letter to theater and actors. Along with loads of hilarity, there is an exploration of how permeable the border between art and life is and how hard it sometimes is to tell which is imitating which. The premise is that an actress (Jessica Hecht) making a return to the stage after a long time off for childrearing is cast in the revival of a short-lived period drams from the 30’s about a woman whose dying wish is to see her old lover again. The actor playing her long lost lover is none other than her real-life former lover (Dominic Fumusa) from whom she split acrimoniously 20 years prior. When they are forced to kiss on stage eight times a week, their affair is rekindled. For most of the play’s first hour, I was doubled over with laughter. In the opening audition from hell, Hecht demonstrates that she can be a first-class comedienne; her mannered style, which I have often found so annoying, serves her well here. The audition is followed by several funny rehearsal scenes and, finally, by opening night. Fumusa has a scene on crutches that is a comic triumph. The revelation for me was Michael Cyril Creighton, who at various points plays the butler, the understudy, the doctor and, in the second act, a pimp; he is wickedly funny in all his guises. The rest of the supporting cast (Todd Almond, Clea Alsip, Emma Galvin, Daniel Jenkins and Patrick Kerr) are fine too. At intermission, I feared that Ruhl would be unable to maintain so high a level for another act. To some extent, my fears were justified. Act Two explores the consequences of their rekindled affair and throws in another audition and a scene from another play-within-a-play. Although there are a few extremely funny scenes, the resolution is a bit anticlimactic. Neil Patel’s scenic design is excellent, as are Susan Hilferty’s costumes. She dresses Hecht in a gown that is an absolute knockout. Rebecca Taichman’s direction skillfully manages the abrupt changes of tone. I wish the second act had been as wonderful as the first, but I am grateful for the first hour, which is one of the most entertaining I have spent in a theater. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes including intermission.

Orlando **

Five reasons why you shouldn't take my comments on Sarah Ruhl's adaptation of Virginia Woolf's novel at CSC too seriously:
1. I haven't read the novel.
2. I haven't seen the movie with Tilda Swinton.
3. My previous experience with Sarah Ruhl's work has been, at best, mixed.
4. A little David Greenspan goes a long, long way for me.
5. When I saw it, I was under the influence of antihistamines and was in a semi-trancelike state.

Considering all that, it's no surprise that I didn't find the work compelling. The dominance of narration over dialog a la story theater was a distancing factor. Francesca Faridany made for a fetching Orlando, the three actors in the ensemble demonstrated admirable versatility, but Annika Boras as Sasha made little impression. The minimalist set worked well, the costumes and lighting were excellent, the choreographed movements were graceful, but for me it was all for naught.

I would very much like to hear dissenting opinions from those who have read the book and/or seen the film.