Happy Talk

C-

Playwright Jesse Eisenberg (The Revisionist, The Spoils) does not seem to have had a clear goal in mind for this disappointing work. What begins as a comedic portrait of a totally self-absorbed suburban woman turns into something much darker. Along the way, we get a picture of the circumscribed lives of undocumented immigrants and a screed against our materialistic society. The woman in question is the needy Lorraine (Susan Sarandon; Exit the King), who slakes her bottomless thirst for attention by appearing in musical productions at her local Jersey JCC. Her ailing husband Bill (Daniel Oreskes; Russian Transport; Oslo) parks himself in an armchair with a Civil War history book and rarely speaks. Her declining mother Ruthie, confined to the downstairs bedroom, has been cared for by Ljuba (Marin Ireland; Blue Ridge, reasons to be pretty), an undocumented Serbian immigrant who would like to find a green-card marriage so she can bring her daughter to the US. While Ljuba’s alleged job is to look after Ruthie, she spends most of her time feeding Lorraine’s need for attention, almost like a surrogate daughter. Lorraine hatches the idea of fixing Ljuba up with a cast member from her current show. That turns out to be Ronny (Nico Santos; “Crazy Rich Asians”), who is playing Lt. Cable to Lorraine’s Bloody Mary in “South Pacific.” (Now there’s a production I’d like to see!) The fact that Ronny is flamboyantly gay and has a live-in boyfriend does not deter Lorraine. Ronny’s boyfriend has lost his job and is fine with going along with the fake marriage to get the $15,000 that Ljuba has taken years to save up. We learn midway through the play that Lorraine and Bill actually have an alienated daughter Jenny (Tedra Millan; Present Laughter, The Wolves), who, against all logic, breaks into the house in the middle of the night, allegedly to say goodbye to her grandmother before taking off for Costa Rica where she and her new husband hope to start a poultry farm. Jenny is such a nasty piece of work that one almost feels sorry for Lorraine. When Ljuba and Ronny begin to hang out without including Lorraine, she feels neglected. The final scene has a double-whammy, which seems partially unearned. While it is a pleasure to see both Sarandon and Ireland together onstage, the truth is that neither is ideally cast. The two men and Ms. Millan come off better in their roles. Derek McLane’s (The True, Burn This) set is the ultimately bland suburban living room, enlivened only by posters of Lorraine’s previous shows. Clint Ramos’s (The True, Violet) costumes are apt. Scott Elliott’s (The True, Good for Otto) direction lets scenes drag a bit. It’s sporadically entertaining, but it ultimately disappoints. Running time: one hour 45 minutes; no intermission.

The True

B

This new play by Sharr White (The Other Place), now at The New Group, offers a wonderful vehicle for Edie Falco’s return to the New York stage. For many, including me, that is sufficient reason to celebrate. Better yet, she is supported by a terrific cast that includes Michael McKean (The Little Foxes, Hairspray), Peter Scolari (Lucky Guy, Sly Fox), Glen Fitzgerald (Ripcord, Lobby Hero) and John Pankow (Dada Woof, Papa Hot; "Episodes"). The setting is 1977 Albany where potty-mouthed, no-nonsense Polly Noonan (Falco; Frankie and Johnnie in the Claire de Lune, House of Blue Leaves, “The Sopranos”) has been working as assistant to Mayor Erastus Corning II (McKean) for 35 years. Her long-suffering husband Peter (Scolari) has learned to survive by keeping a low profile and trying to ignore rumors that his wife is more than Corning’s assistant. Corning has been not only a boss but a close friend to Polly and Peter. When the death of the local Democratic Party chairman sets off a power struggle, Corning suddenly and mysteriously cuts off relations with the Noonans. Discovering the reason is the rather weak hook on which the plot is hung. Despite the pain of being frozen out, Polly loyally plows ahead to insure Corning’s success in an upcoming primary. During her efforts, she meets secretly with slick Howard Nolan (Fitzgerald), the man running against Corning, and wily Charlie Ryan (Pankow), the politician pulling Nolan’s strings. In a related subplot, Polly invites Bill McCormack (Austin Caldwell; Intimacy), a dim young man she is attempting to recruit to Corning’s team, over for dinner with hilarious results. Sharr has a flair for snappy dialogue, but resorts to shouting matches a bit too often. The view seen here is enough to make one nostalgic for the heyday of urban machine politics where the worst sculduggery was an envelope with a $5 bill in it on election day. The depiction of how little opportunity there was for a strong woman in 1977 politics reveals one aspect of the down side of that era. The main feature of Derek McLane’s (Jerry Springer — The Opera, Sweet Charity) set is floor-to-ceiling bookcases decorated with a variety of table lamps that initially depicts the Noonan’s home and morphs, with varying degrees of success, to several other locations. The period costumes by Clint Ramos (Sweet Charity, Violet) are spot-on. Scott Elliott (Good for Otto, Evening at the Talk House) directs with assurance. It’s not a wonderful play, but it’s quite entertaining. Running time: one hour 45 minutes, no intermission.

Good for Otto

I

With a Tony-awarded playwright, a stellar cast and an important topic, how could The New Group’s production of David Rabe’s play about mental health care in America possibly go wrong? Let me count the ways. While my “I” grade stands for “Incomplete” (since I couldn’t force myself to return after intermission), it could just as well stand for “inert” or “indulgent.” Dr. Michaels (Ed Harris), the chief therapist and administrator of a small town mental health clinic in northwest Connecticut, has a lot to deal with — the patients he cares for deeply, the insurance company bureaucracy he battles, and the verbal abuse he receives from the ghost of his mother (a miscast Charlotte Hope). who committed suicide when he was nine. His patients include Jane (Kate Buddeke), a woman guilt ridden over her son Jimmy’s suicide; Jerome (Kenny Mellman), a hoarder who can’t bring himself to move to his mother’s basement; and the patient the doctor is most concerned over, Frannie, (Rileigh McDonald), a 12-year-old girl who cuts herself and is subject to violent outbursts. We also meet another therapist, Evangeline (Amy Madigan), whose patients include Timothy (Mark Linn-Baker), a man on the spectrum whose social awkwardness gets him into trouble; Alex (Maulik Pancholy), a gay man who has recently come out (whom I unfortunately did not meet because he only appears in the second act); and Barnard (the wonderful F. Murray Abraham), an intellectual 77-year-old who could not rouse himself to get out of bed for several weeks. Laura Esterman doubles as Jerome’s mother and Barnard’s wife. Rhea Perlman portrays Nora, the foster mother struggling to cope with Frannie. Nancy Giles plays Marcy, the soulless case manager at the insurance company. Lily Gladstone is Denise, the clinic’s receptionist. One of the most powerful scenes in the first act is the extended monologue by the ghost of Jimmy (Michael Rabe, the playwright’s son) describing the night he shot himself. Although the scene does not really fit into the framework of the play since Jimmy was not a patient and his remarks are not shared with anyone except the audience, it was one of the few times that I felt involved. The stringing together of monologues and therapy sessions grew tiresome quickly. Dr. Michaels’s fantasy of all his patients joining to sing old favorites such as “Glow Worm” didn’t work for me. The set design by Derek McLane is appropriately drab. Director Scott Elliott made the interesting choice to seat several members of the audience onstage interspersed among the actors. Perhaps if I had stayed for the second act, my opinion of the play might have improved. Or not. Running time: three hours including intermission.

Evening at the Talk House

D+

It sounded so promising: a New York premiere of a work by the provocative and often amusing Wallace Shawn with a cast that includes Matthew Broderick, Jill Eikenberry and Michael Tucker (remember them in L.A. Law?), John Epperson (Lypsinka), Larry Pine, Claudia Shear (Dirty Blonde) and Shawn himself. The cast also includes a fine young actress previously unknown to me, Annapurna Sriram. Upon entering the Romulus Linney Theater at Signature Center, the audience sees a cozy area that looks like the living room of a private club, filled with overstuffed chairs and ottomans, a leather sofa, a large coffee table and an upright piano. It took me a split second to realize that the attractive woman offering a tray of marshmallows, gummy bears and colored sparkling water was Eikenberry, looking barely a day older than she did on L.A. Law. For several minutes (too long in my opinion) the actors mix with the audience before the play. Most of those gathered at the theatrical club were associated with a play that opened ten years before  — Robert, the playwright (Broderick); Tom, the star (Pine); Bill,  the producer (Tucker); Ted, composer of the incidental music (Epperson); Annette, the wardrobe mistress (Shear); Nellie, the struggling club’s proprietor (Eikenberry) and Jane, her assistant (Sriram). An unexpected guest is Dick, an old actor (Shawn) who had been turned down for a part in the production ten years ago. Robert opens the play with a very long (at least 10-minute) monologue, during which we learn that much has changed in the past 10 years. Theater has practically disappeared. The country has become vaguely dystopian with quarterly predictable elections and frequent blackouts. Robert and Tom have abandoned serious theater for the lucrative world of television comedy. Bill has become a successful agent. Ted, Annette and Jane have had to scramble to make ends meet, filling in by participating in a government program to target people “who mean to do us harm.” Dick is staying at the club temporarily after a beating from his “friends.” Despite the underlying menace, the guests prattle on about tv shows and other gossip. One topic is the mysterious recent poisoning of at least two actors. The lights go out, but the talk continues. The play grinds to a halt with an ending that seems almost arbitrary. Somewhere lurking inside this disjointed mess lies an interesting play. I wish Shawn had waited until it emerged. Derek McLane did the wonderful set and Jeff Mahshie, the fine costumes. New Group artistic director Scott Elliott directed. Running time: one hour 40 minutes; no intermission.

Intimacy **

The previous play I saw by Thomas Bradshaw -- "Burning" in 2011 -- made my Ten Worst list for that year, so I was not looking forward to Bradshaw's new X-rated comedy at The New Group. This muddled satire about sex in suburbia has lots of nudity and simulated sex but not much point. In the first act we are presented with the sexual proclivities of three neighboring families who get together in the second act to produce a neighborhood porn film. The graphic sex is more comical than erotic. The characters are a jumble of unconvincing traits and the plot, such as it is, makes very little sense. Bradshaw's desire to shock often serves no apparent purpose; he throws in a toilet scene with sound effects and a vomit scene to up the gross-out factor. A subplot about casual racism seems almost an afterthought. To see such fine actors as Daniel Gerroll, Laura Esterman and Keith Randolph Smith involved in this evoked a mixture of admiration and pity. David Anzuelo, Austin Cauldwell, Ella Dershowitz and Dea Julien all look good with their clothes off. Derek McLane's set with a candy color backdrop and quilted walls makes good use of the extremely wide stage. Director Scott Elliott also designed the costumes. Running time: 2 hours 15 minutes including intermission.

Bunty Berman Presents ***

(Please click on the title to see the complete review.)
Ayub Khan Din's 1996 play "East Is East" is one of the funniest plays I have ever seen (rent the movie!), so I have been looking forward to his new musical, an affectionate look at Bollywood, now in previews at The New Group. This time around, he wrote the book, lyrics and, with Paul Bogaev, the music. Due to an injury that forced the lead actor to drop out, he even took over the title role. I found the show charming, but many might disagree. If you have a taste for silliness, cartoonish characters, corny jokes, ridiculous plot developments, pratfalls, sight gags and word play, you will have a good time. Bunty Berman is head of a third-rate Bombay movie studio whose success was built on its star Raj Dhawan (the hilarious Sorab Wadia), who is now long in the tooth and broad in the beam. The studio's only hope for survival is to take in as a partner a notorious gangster Shankar Dass (Alok Tewari) who wants to turn his son Chandra (Raja Burrows) into a star. Bunty's loyal personal assistant Dolly (Gayton Scott) longs for his attention. Saleem, the tea boy (Nick Choksi), is in love with the leading lady Shambervi (Lipica Shah). Dass is smitten with exotic dancer Sandra de Souza (Lyn Philistine). There is a running gag that one of the henchmen is a walking thesaurus, ever ready with an apt synonym or two.  Derek McLane's functional set is enhanced by projections by Wendall K Harrington. William Ivey Long's costumes are wonderful. The choreography by Josh Prince is hilarious. Scott Elliott's direction is fine. I laughed myself silly, but I am aware that not everyone would share my delight. Running time: 2 hours, 25 minutes, including intermission.

The Good Mother *

(Please click on the title to see the full review.)
Ads for Francine Volpe's new play at The New Group describe it as a "taut psychological thriller." I wish! It's anything but taut, devoid of thrills, and psychological only in the sense that much of the dialogue is psychobabble. Larissa (Gretchen Mol) is a 33-year-old single mother with an autistic 4-year-old daughter. In a series of scenes with her goth babysitter Angus (Eric Nielsen), her truck driver date Jonathan (Darren Goldstein), her former group therapist and mentor during her teen years -- and father of Angus -- Joel (Mark Blum), and an ex-boyfriend cop Buddy (Alfredo Narciso), we see several aspects of Larissa which still fall far short of creating a coherent character. The fine cast struggles valiantly, but they have little to work with. Scott Elliott's sluggish direction only emphasizes the play's flaws. I liked the set by Derek McLane -- a tacky living room with knotty pine walls, an overstuffed sectional and lace curtains. Cynthia Rowley's costumes were fine too. Applause was tepid at best at play's end. Running time: 95 minutes, no intermission.

Russian Transport **

(Please click on the title to see the full review.)
An immigrant family struggling to achieve the good life in Brooklyn is thrown into turmoil by the arrival of a relative from the old country.  No, I'm not talking about "A View from the Bridge." In this New Group production,  the family are Russian Jews living in Sheepshead Bay and the arriving relative is the wife's younger brother Boris (Morgan Spector.) Misha, the hen-pecked husband (Daniel Oreskes), runs a struggling car service. When she is not bullying her family, domineering wife Diana (Janeane Garofolo) works in a store. Son Alex (Raviv Ullman), still in high school, drives for his father, works in a mobile phone store, and deals a few drugs on the side. He is unrelentingly nasty to his younger sister Mira (Sarah Steele), who dreams of attending a summer program in Florence and must be the first 14-year-old girl in history uninterested in getting her first bra or wearing makeup. Even before Boris arrived, I was not looking forward to spending 2 1/2 hours with these unpleasant people. Diana's brother Boris is a sinisterly seductive sociopath who immediately sets out to corrupt Alex and Mira. He enlists Alex as an initially unwitting driver to transport newly-arrived Russian girls to mysterious locations. He turns on the charm with Mira and shows her his gun. (No, Freudians, an actual gun.) The family members have at each other for 2 1/2 hours, as various secrets are revealed. Playwright Erika Sheffer is not adept at telling a story clearly. At intermission, people around me were arguing about what exactly happened in the final scene of Act One. There is another scene near the end of the play that takes place so quickly and in such darkness that it wasn't clear what actually transpired. Director Scott Elliott shares some of the blame here. The actors are excellent with the exception of Garofolo, who struggles a bit with the Russian accent. Spector is an absolutely chilling Boris. Steele and Ullman are both fine, but I thought that she looked older than her brother, not three years younger. Oreskes deftly avoids stereotype. The two-level set by Derek McLane captures Diana's concept of good taste. I am surprised by the mostly positive reviews the play received. The audience was far less enthusiastic.

Burning *

Anal intercourse (straight and gay), anilingus, cunnilingus, fellatio, incestuous masturbation, pedophilia -- all are onstage in Thomas Bradshaw's new play, now in a New Group production on Theatre Row. Long after the shock and titillation wore off, the sex scenes continued until a groan was audible at the sight of yet another character disrobing. All this carnal activity is allegedly in service to a convoluted plot that takes place both in the 1980's and the present. Among the characters in New York are a 14-year-old hustler who wants to be an actor, a gay producer and actor who take him in to be their slave, a black artist who keeps his race a professional secret, his British wife, and his late cousin's sexually confused son. In Berlin we meet a neo-Nazi brother and sister, their constipated friend, and a gorgeous prostitute allegedly from Ethiopia. An occasional quotation from the Marquis de Sade is thrown in to supply philosophical ballast. And so it goes, on and on for almost three hours. It was often unclear to me whether the playwright was being satirical or in earnest. If there was a point to it all, it was lost on me. I will spare the actors mentioning their names. Scott Elliott directed.

Blood from a Stone ***

This over-the-top blue-collar family drama with comic flashes, now at the Acorn Theater in a New Group production, has already extended its run before it even opens. The box-office draw is probably Ethan Hawke as the damaged elder son Travis, a former war hero who returns to his small-town Connecticut home before Christmas to try to sort out some family problems before taking off for the West Coast. His character is the glue that holds the play together: he has a scene alone with each of the other characters. The excellent cast includes Gordon Clapp and Ann Dowd as parents who are locked in constant combat, Thomas Guiry as the younger brother who is a gambler and chronic liar, Natasha Lyonne as the sister who has struggled with some success to escape the toxic pull of her family, and Daphne Rubin-Vega as the sexy married neighbor whom Travis beds whenever he is in town. Tommy Nohilly is an actor turned playwright and the juicy roles he has written here give each actor a chance to shine. Director Scott Elliott is in good form as usual. Derek McLane's set of a house in disrepair appropriately mirrors the play's chaos. There really isn't anything new or revelatory, some of the scenes run a bit long, some of the motivation is a bit unclear, but the play is full of energy and very well acted. I overcame my initial lack of interest in these characters and eventually got caught up in the action. I"m not sure you'll like it, but I doubt that you'll be bored.