Burn This

C

It took me only a few minutes to realize that this was not a play that I could feel emotionally invested in. While I have very much enjoyed other plays by Lanford Wilson (Fifth of July, Talley’s Folly, Balm in Gilead), this one just did not speak to me. Mourning was a very real thing in the gay community in 1987 with AIDS taking a heavy toll. For a gay playwright to write a play with gay characters, dancers no less, and never even obliquely mention AIDS is puzzling. To choose a freak boating accident off Fire Island to kill off Robbie, the gay character his two roommates are mourning, seemed like a copout. Furthermore, the role of Larry, the surviving gay roommate, while excellently played by Brandon Uranowitz (Falsettos, An American in Paris), is a tired cliche — the neutered, wisecracking, loyal gay sidekick. Also, for an ad man to be living with two dancers seemed a stretch. Anna (Kerri Russell, Fat Pig, “The Americans”), an emotionally restrained dancer trying to make the transition to choreographer, was Robbie’s dance partner. Her boyfriend Burton (David Furr; Noises Off, The Explorers Club) is an entitled, stolid, wealthy screenwriter of sci-fi films who both craves and fears writing a love story. As the play opens, Anna has just returned from Robbie’s funeral, where his large working-class family assumed she was Robbie’s girlfriend. They did not know or would not admit Robbie was gay and had never even seen him dance. The long first scene with Anna, Larry and Burton has several dead spots. The play wakes up when Pale, Robbie’s older brother, bangs on the door in the middle of the night. Fueled by coke and liquor, Pale rants about urban life and any other topic that fleetingly crosses his mind. Manager of a New Jersey restaurant, he has a wife and two children in Coral Gables. His claim to closeness to his late brother seems undermined by the statement that Robbie was only seven when the 19-year-old Pale left home.  As played by Adam Driver (Man and Boy, Look Back in Anger, “Girls”), Pale is larger than life — a crude, vibrant force of nature who overcomes Anna’s initial revulsion by sheer animal attraction. The key scene when their relationship turns from shared mourning to lust did not convince me. Driver is indisputably impressive, but I found his version of Pale unmodulated and too prone to reach for laughs. As Anna, Kerri Russell is the one who is pale. In her defense, I think her part is underwritten. In any case, I did not find myself caring very much about these people. When my attention lagged, I enjoyed the beauty of Natasha Katz’s (The Prom, Hello Dolly!) changing lighting of the panorama of lower Manhattan seen through the loft’s huge windows at various times of the day. It is hard to imagine that Derek McLane’s (American Son, The Parisian Woman) huge loft ever existed at an affordable rent; it is probably a 7- or 8-figure condo today. Clint Ramos’s (Eclipsed, Once on This Island) costumes are very good at enhancing character. If there are hidden depths in the script, director Michael Mayer (Head Over Heels, Spring Awakening) did not find them. At two hours 40 minutes including intermission, it’s a long slog.

All My Sons

A

Roundabout Theatre Company’s revival of Arthur Miller’s first successful play is as fine a production of a Miller play as I ever hope to see. All the elements — casting, direction, scenic design, costumes, lighting, sound design and projections —are near perfect. Tracy Letts (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf), Annette Benning (Spoils of War, Coastal Disturbances) and Benjamin Walker (American Psycho, Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson) all give performances that I will not soon forget. Francesca Carpanini (The Little Foxes), Hampton Fluker (Too Heavy for Your Pocket) and Michael Hayden (Judgment at Nuremberg) are solid in feature roles, as are Jenni Barber (The Nance), Monte Greene, Nehal Joshi (School of Rock) and Chinasa Ogbuagu (Her Portmanteau, Sojourners) in supporting ones. Together they convincingly portray a close-knit community. Director Jack O’Brien (Carousel, The Hard Problem) uncovers a depth and breadth in the play that I had not found in previous productions. He also knits the various subplots together with uncommon skill. Douglas W. Schmidt’s (Into the Woods, The Front Page) set depicts an idyllic Midwestern yard and house facade. Jane Greenwood’s (She Loves Me, Major Barbara) costumes capture the period well. Jeff Sugg’s (Sweat, Bring It On) projections are used sparingly but effectively. Miller’s depiction of the dark side of the American Dream sadly remains as relevant now as it was in 1947. Today it may be a group of anonymous Boeing executives who are putting unsafe planes in the air instead of an individual parts supplier, but they are motivated by the same corrosive greed. Rarely have I been in an audience that was so totally involved. It is definitely one of the dramatic highlights of the season. Running time: two hours 20 minutes including an intermission and a brief pause.

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy

D

To launch the Griffin Theater, the 500-seat black-box in The Shed at Hudson Yards, Artistic Director Alex Poots has commissioned a theatrical piece by Canadian poet and classicist Anne Carson that conflates the stories of Helen of Troy and Marilyn Monroe. Ms. Carson calls it a melologue — a monologue that alternates speech and song. Actor Ben Whishaw (The Crucible) and singer Renée Fleming (Carousel) are the cast. The play opens on a large nondescript office at night. A nervous man arrives, unpacks his briefcase and posts some photos of Ms. Monroe on an easel. A radio informs us that it is New Year’s Eve 1963. The man is soon joined by a matronly woman who is apparently a stenographer. Why they are working at that hour on a holiday is the least of the play’s puzzles. The man begins to dictate a script, complete with punctuation. In his play, he follows Euripides’s version of Helen, in which only a cloud representing her actually goes to Troy. The man occasionally interrupts the loose narrative with chapters from a history of war, from which one take-away is “it’s a disaster to be a girl.” After remaining silent for roughly the first half-hour, the woman begins to sing fragments that often recapitulate the man’s remarks. Unfortunately Paul Clark’s score does not give Fleming’s luscious voice much chance to shine although there is an occasional vocal thrill. We encounter Truman Capote (as impersonated by Monroe), Pearl Bailey and Fritz Lang, among others. Husband Arthur Miller is referred to as the king of Sparta and New York. Persephone is also mentioned. As the story, such as it is, unfolds, the man paints his nails, applies false eyelashes, gradually strips to his underwear, puts on a bustier, high heels and finally a blonde wig and the famous dress from “The Seven Year Itch.” As he does so, he pops pills, drinks champagne and eventually curls up on a desk. All this might have been more interesting if it had been more visible. Alex Eales’s set, which Anthony Doran has lit by only a few desk lamps and an easel light, is so dark that one never really gets a good look at the actors. Early reports said that many audience members left during the play. I only saw two. One reason might be that the theater is so completely dark that it is dangerous to try to leave. I cannot comment on Katie Mitchell’s direction because I have no idea what the author was aiming for. As to Sussie Juhlin-Wallén’s costumes, I could barely see them. All in all, it was a dreary evening. Mr. Poots, who was artistic director of Park Avenue Armory, intends to make The Shed a home for adventurous commissioned works. I wish him well. Running time: 90 minutes, no intermission.

My Fair Lady (revisited)

A+

When Lincoln Center Theater offered members the chance to see My Fair Lady a second time at member prices, I jumped at the opportunity. In my review a year ago (https://gotham-playgoer.blogspot.com/2018/04/my-fair-lady.html), I said “It’s a near-perfect production of what many have called the perfect musical.” Since then, there have been several cast changes which, without exception, have improved the production. I can now say that the show is even nearer perfection than before. To no one’s surprise, Laura Benanti (She Loves Me, Gypsy) is superb as Eliza. Likewise, Rosemary Harris (A Delicate Balance, The Royal Family) makes a wonderful Mrs. Higgins. Danny Burstein (South Pacific, Follies) is a natural as Alfred P. Doolittle. Christian Dante White (Hello, Dolly, Shuffle Along…) not only has a fine voice, but also manages to breathe some life into the role of Freddy Eynsford-Hill. Lastly, Clarke Thorell (The Front Page, Annie) has eliminated the offensively effete portrayal of Zoltan Karpathy. Happily, Harry Hadden-Paton and Allan Corduner are back as Henry Higgins and Colonel Pickering, respectively, and have deepened their portrayals. Everything else is still there — the amazing set, the gorgeous costumes, the lively choreography, the large orchestra and, of course, the masterful score and book. I liked it even better the second time around. Running time: two hours 45 minutes including intermission.

The Pain of My Belligerence

B-

Halley Feiffer’s semi-autobiographical new play is perplexing for many reasons starting with its title and the tick-hugging woman in the artwork for its advertisements. Upon arriving at Playwrights Horizons, you are told that the programs will not be distributed until after the play. (In retrospect, this is a good idea because the play would lose some impact if you knew too much in advance.) Upon entering the theater, you are greeted by ominous insect buzzing. The long opening scene depicts the memorable first date between Cat (Feiffer), a budding late-20’s journalist and Guy (Hamish Linklater; The Busy World Is Hushed, Seminar), the arrogant, privileged, charming, sexy man who designed the restaurant where they are dining on Election Day 2012. Guy is the business partner and husband of Yuki and father of a young daugther, Anzu. The scene is outrageously funny with lots of physical humor and shaggy-dog stories in which the interruptions have interruptions. And so begins their toxic relationship. We next see them exactly four years later when the unwell Cat is lying in bed watching the 2016 election returns. We learn that Guy now has a second daughter, Olive, and that all is not going smoothly for the adulterous couple. Cat’s illness does not prevent them from indulging in some athletic sex. The final scene is set on Election Day 2020. I will say no more about it; don’t read the spoilers below if you want to be surprised. The two leads are terrific. As an actress, Feiffer (The Front Page, The House of Blue Leaves) is absolutely fearless. As a playwright (I'm Gonna Pray for You So Hard, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Gynecological Oncology Unit at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center of New York City), she is adept at creating characters with oversized emotions. It is a treat to see Linklater cast in a role so different from his usual stage persona. The production is greatly enhanced by Mark Wendland’s (Significant Other, Next to Normal)  elegantly simple set made primarily of wood slats. Paloma Young’s (Bandstand, Lobby Hero) costumes are apt. Director Trip Cullman (Lobby Hero, The Mother) allows the actors to dig deeply into their roles. Spoilers ahead. In the final scene, we meet Yuki  (a fine Vanessa Kai; KPOP) and Olive (Keira Belle Young) and learn that all has not been quite as it seemed. The attempt to tie the nature of Cat and Guy’s relationship to a malign patriarchy through the Election Day settings did not work for me. Cat’s physical decline, which touches on Feiffer’s own experience, provides a visible correlate of the relationship itself. It doesn’t add up to anything neat and simple, but it offers many absorbing moments along the way. While I remain perplexed, I was also entertained and glad to have had the chance to see two fine actors doing excellent work in an unconventional piece. Running time: 85 minutes; no intermission.

Hillary and Clinton

C

When Laurie Metcalf appeared in Lucas Hnath’s A Doll’s House, Part 2 two years ago, she won a Tony and the play became a commercial success. Therefore, producers probably thought it would be a great idea to produce this 2016 play by Hnath with Ms. Metcalf playing Hillary and, to beef up box office appeal, another Tony winner, John Lithgow (The Changing Room, Sweet Smell of Success), as Bill Clinton. The result is a mixed bag. The play, which first appeared during the 2016 primaries when Hillary looked like a sure thing, resonates differently today. Billed on the marquee as “primarily a comedy,” it does offer more than a few laughs over the goings-on in Hillary’s hotel room just before and after the 2008 New Hampshire primary. The play opens with a woman named Hillary philosophizing about the infinite number of universes where different incarnations of people obtain different results. This frame enables the playwright to mix fact, supposition and outright fiction to tell a tale that might have taken place in some universe. Spoilers ahead. When Barack (Peter Francis James; The Lady from Dubuque) tries to make a deal for her to quit the race and join him as vice-president on the ticket, her campaign manager Mark (Zak Orth; Major Barbara, subUrbia) advises her to refuse. Against Mark’s advice, Hillary calls her husband, who had been banished from the campaign, and asks him to come to New Hampshire. When he arrives, they bicker over all the accumulated grievances in their marriage and the rivalry of their competing ambitions. Bill’s presence in New Hampshire affects the outcome and upsets her secret deal with Barack, who then cautions them about the threat of damaging information emerging about their charitable fundraising. That’s about it in a nutshell. I guess celebrities lose the right to protect their privacy, but I couldn’t see any value in Hnath presenting a fantasy version of events. The actors make no effort to imitate their real-life models, which is probably a plus. Director Joe Mantello (Three Tall Women, The Humans) keeps things moving briskly. The set by Chloe Lamford (1984) is downright ugly — a gray cube that slides forward and lights up along the edges. The only props are an office chair and leftover food debris on the floor. The costumes by Rita Ryack (Casa Valentina) emphasize the ordinariness of daily life when the world is not watching. As one would expect, both Ms. Metcalf and Mr. Lithgow are a pleasure to watch. Nevertheless, there seemed to be little point to the enterprise. Running time: 85 minutes; no intermission.

Kiss Me, Kate!

B+

Kelli O’Hara (The King and I, South Pacific) reaffirms her status as the reigning queen of the American musical with her wonderful performance in the dual roles of Lilli Vanessi and Katharine in Roundabout’s delightful revival of Cole Porter’s (Anything Goes, Gay Divorce) 1948 classic. Her gorgeous voice comes as no surprise — to hear her version of “So in Love” is bliss— but her skill at slapstick comedy was unexpected. As Fred Graham and Petruchio, Will Chase (Something Rotten!, High Fidelity) makes an excellent partner for her. Corbin Bleu (Holiday Inn), as Bill Calhoun/Lucentio, impresses with a fine voice and fleet feet. Stephanie Styles (Kingdom Come) makes an auspicious Broadway debut as Lois Lane/Bianca. Regarding the rest of the cast, nontraditional casting has resulted in a diversity that is rare for Broadway. Warren Carlyle’s (Hello, Dolly!, She Loves Me) energetic, sexy choreography is a major attraction. Under Paul Gemigniani’s musical direction, the classic Porter score sounds great. David Rockwell’s (Lobby Hero, She Loves Me) scenic design includes a realistic three-level backstage set with matching dressing rooms that roll in as well as more fanciful backdrops and an amusing curtain for “Taming of the Shrew.” The colorful costumes by Jeff Mahshie (She Loves Me, Next to Normal) are a delight. Scott Ellis (She Loves Me, Twentieth Century) once again shows a flair for directing a musical revival. The tweaks to Sam and Bella Spewack’s (Leave It to Me, Boy Meets Girl) book may make it more palatable for today’s sensibility, but it remains old-fashioned and clunky even by 1948 standards. However, with its gorgeous score and a splendid production, it is easy to overlook the shortcomings of the book. Running time: two hours 30 minutes including intermission.