A Man of No Importance

 A-

John Doyle ends his six-year tenure as artistic director of CSC with an excellent revival of this modest 2002 musical with book, music and lyrics by Terrence McNally, Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens respectively. The repressed homosexual protagonist, Alfie Byrne (Jim Parsons), is a Dublin bus conductor with a crush on his handsome driver Robbie Fay (A.J. Shively). Alfie lives with his older sister Lily (the always wonderful Mare Winningham), who has put off marriage until she sees her brother wed and settled. Alfie’s main interest in life is the amateur theater group devoted to the works of Oscar Wilde that he leads at the local church. His latest project is Wilde’s Salome even though it is unlikely that the church will allow it. He recruits the reluctant Adele (Shereen Ahmed), a beautiful young woman newly arrived in Dublin to play the title role. The cast is universally excellent. The motley crew of amateur actors are played to the hilt by a fine ensemble that includes CSC alums Mary Beth Peil, Thomas Sesma, Alma Cuervo, Kara Mikula, Jessica Tyler Wright and William Youmans, as well as Da’von T. Moody, Nathaniel Stampley and Joel Waggoner. As actors in a Doyle production are wont to do, most of them also play instruments. Doyle's set is bare-bones with folding chairs prominently deployed. Flaherty’s Irish-inflected score is easy on the ears and Ahrens’s lyrics develop character and move the plot. McNally’s affecting book stumbles a bit toward the end, but not enough to diminish one’s pleasure. I know I was deeply moved. Running time: one hour 45 minutes, no intermission.

Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune

B

This limited-run Broadway revival of Terrence McNally’s 1987 romantic dramedy has been cast with two fine actors with big box office appeal, Audra McDonald (Master Class, Carousel, Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar & Grill) as Frankie and Michael Shannon (Killer Joe, Bug, Long Day’s Journey into Night) as Johnny. To see them together as a 40-something waitress and short-order cook on a memorable first date is an opportunity that is hard to resist. The setting is Frankie’s one-room Hell’s Kitchen apartment and the time is the 1980’s. As the play opens, they are in the final throes of vigorous sex. What Frankie regards as just an enjoyable toss in the hay is regarded by Johnny as the start of a serious romance. During most of the first act, Johnny very persistently tries to win Frankie over. Late in the act, he calls the music station they are listening to and asks the host to play the most romantic piece ever written. They are gazing at the full moon and listening to the titular piece as the first act ends. Part of me wishes that McNally (Love! Valour! Compassion!, Master Class) had ended the play there. The second act is repetitious and unruly and stretches the evening out too far. While I have unlimited admiration for Audra McDonald, her glamour and melodious voice work against her playing the beat-down Frankie. Michael Shannon is very much in his element. I thought they captured the play’s humor better than its pathos. I did not like the gimmicky set by Richard Hernandez (Indecent, The Gin Game) in which the backdrop is the exterior of the apartment building rather than the interior walls of Frankie’s apartment. The costumes by Emily Rebholz (Indecent, Dear Evan Hansen) do not grab attention. Arin Arbus’s (The Winter’s Tale, The Skin of Our Teeth) direction is a bit sluggish. The play would benefit from a 15-minute trim. I was lucky enough to have seen the 2002 revival with Edie Falco and Stanley Tucci. For me, that version remains the gold standard. Those who have not seen the play before will probably enjoy this production unless they are uncomfortable with nudity and rough language. Running time: two hours 20 minutes including intermission.

Fire and Air

D

It is sad to think that this amorphous mess came from the pen of four-time Tony winner Terrence McNally. How the mighty have fallen! If there was any point to this Cliff Notes version of the career of ballet impresario Sergei Diaghilev, I failed to grasp it. If you arrive knowing the reasons for his importance to the arts of the early 20th century, you will disappointed by the needy man-child portrayed here (by the miscast Douglas Hodge; La Cage aux Folles). If you don’t know his importance beforehand, you will wonder why you should waste two hours with this unpleasant man. At least his entourage includes some interesting characters played by topnotch actors — his cousin and long-ago lover Dmitry Filosofov (John Glover; Love! Valour! Compassion!), his longtime friend and patron Misia Sert (Marin Mazzie; Bullets Over Broadway, Carrie) and his nurse since childhood Dunya (Marsha Mason; The Goodbye Girl). We also meet his great love, the dancer Vaslav Nijinsky (James Cusati-Moyer; Six Degrees of Separation), whose career he obsessively molded, and who broke his heart. Finally, we are introduced to his next protege Leonide Massine (Jay Armstrong Johnson; On the Town). To hold the interest of at least part of the audience, Cusati-Moyer and Johnson remove their shirts as often as possible. Periodically Diaghilev spouts something pretentious when he is not kvetching about his boils or his fear of water. At intermission, I could not imagine that it could get worse, but I was wrong. The second act is excruciating with embarrassing surrealistic touches. It was a thoroughly dispiriting experience. Costumes were by Ann Hould-Ward (Allegro, Pacific Overtures). CSC artistic director John Doyle (Allegro, Pacific Overtures) designed the set and directed. Running time: two hours including intermission. NOTE: Seats in Row A are armless.

It's Only a Play ***

This much-revised comedy by Terrrence McNally, which is breaking box office records on Broadway, has a stellar cast including Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, Stockard Channing, Megan Mullally, F. Murray Abraham and Rupert Grint (from Harry Potter films), plus promising newcomer Micah Stock. Lane and Channing are at the top of their form, rattling off a nonstop series of bitchy zingers, many of them theatrical insider jokes that flatter the audience by making them feel in the know. Abraham, as an acerbic critic, reveals a manic comic side that I never knew he had. Mullally was out so I can’t comment on her; understudy Isabel Keating seemed flightier than necessary. Rupert Grint, as a hotshot British director who claims to crave failure, has to cope with a poorly written role and a hideous costume. Stock, who resembles a young Jim Parsons, holds his own in a long, hilarious scene with Lane. And then there’s Matthew Broderick as the author of the play whose opening night is being celebrated. He copes reasonably well with difficult material in Act One — a lecture on the depressing state of Broadway theater and a prayer for those involved in the business — but seems to retreat into a shell of blandness in Act Two. The fun is greatly abetted by an over-the-top set design by Scott Pask and hilarious costumes, including the outerwear of unseen celebrities from other Broadway shows, by Ann Roth. Director Jack O’Brien occasionally lets the pace lag. The wisp of a plot is about the anxieties of waiting for reviews on opening night, a somewhat dated concept in the age of instantly accessible reviews on newspapers’ digital sites. The second act fizzles more than it fizzes. McNally would have done well to follow one of the theatrical trends he deplores in the Act One lecture — 90-minute plays without an intermission. A string of one-liners, no matter how funny, does not stay fresh for two hours and forty minutes. It’s too much of a good thing.

Mothers and Sons **

A new Terrence McNally play starring Tyne Daly -- what could possibly go wrong? Plenty, as it turns out. When the usually admirable Frederick Weller first opens his mouth, the mannered, almost falsetto voice that comes out resembles nothing found in nature. What was director Sheryl Kaller thinking to steer him in this strange direction? After a few seconds of this unnatural sound, it was clear that it was going to be a long 90 minutes. Remember the Emmy-winning 1990 television drama "Andre's Mother" starring Sada Thompson and Richard Thomas, about the confrontation between a woman who has lost her son to AIDS and the lover he left behind? McNally picks up these characters 20 years later when Katharine (Daly) unexpectedly visits the former lover Cal (Weller) to return Andre's diary, which neither of them has read. The years have not mellowed Katharine; if anything, she has only grown more bitter and filled with hate. Cal, on the other hand, has moved on; he now has a Central Park West apartment, a husband, Will (Bobby Steggert), 15 years his junior, and a 6-year-old son Bud (the too-cute-by-half Grayson Taylor). The play drifts from clumsy exposition to clever zingers to didactic speeches in no particular order. Daly does not get to display much range. Steggert is the only one who resembles an actual human being. Even set designer John Lee Beatty is off his stride -- the unattractive apartment does not look like one any gay couple would inhabit. The play's only interest is to document the dramatic changes that have taken place for gay Americans in the last 20 years. After three weeks of previews, the play still seems far from polished. A major disappointment.

Golden Age **

(Please click on the title to see the complete review.)
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.

Master Class **

I have always been a fan of Tyne Daly -- her Mamma Rose was the finest I have ever seen -- so I was quite eager to see her play Maria Callas in the Manhattan Theatre Club's revival of Terrence McNally's 1995 hit Master Class. I'm sorry to report that I was disappointed with her performance. She does not get the Greek accent right -- sometimes it sounds more like an Irish brogue -- and she does not clearly differentiate between her voice and Onassis's during the two memory scenes. The actors playing the vocal students (Alexandra Silber, Garrett Sorenson and Sierra Boggess) are all excellent. Sorenson and Boggess have beautiful voices. Jeremy Cohen brings a lot of warmth to the role of the pianist and Clinton Brandhagen is amusing as the stagehand. Except for the accent problem, the class scenes still work well. Callas's stinging remarks are as funny as ever. The transitions to and from the memory scenes are awkward and the imagined conversations with Onassis misfired. Perhaps director Stephen Wadsworth is at fault. The set for the auditorium stage where the class is held has a beautiful parquet back wall. This set dissolves into a suggestion of La Scala with a large pillar decorated with roses. Although the play won the Tony in 1996 (as did Zoe Caldwell and Audra McDonald), it seemed a bit long and repetitious this time. Clearly, I am in the minority here because the audience was wildly enthusiastic.