Admissions

A-

The double-edged title of this provocative new play by Joshua Harmon (Bad Jews, Significant Other) at Lincoln Center Theater refers not only to choosing college students but to acknowledging the gap between behavior and ideals. The setting is Hillcrest School, a New Hampshire prep school where Sherri Rosen-Mason (Jessica Hecht; The Price, The Assembled Parties) is dean of admissions, her husband Bill Mason (Andrew Garman; The Christians, The Moors) is headmaster and their son Charlie Luther Mason (Ben Edelman; Significant Other) is a bright senior. Sherri is proud that in her 15 years on her job she has tripled minority enrollment. In the first scene, she harshly berates Roberta (Ann McDonough; Dinner at Eight, What I Did Last Summer), a drolly passive-aggressive, older, long-time employee responsible for publishing the school bulletin for not including enough photos of minority students. We next meet her close friend Ginnie Peters (Sally Murphy; A Man of No Importance, LCT’s Carousel), a white woman married to a biracial man and mother of the unseen Perry, Charlie’s best friend since early childhood. When Yale accepts Perry but places Charlie on the deferred list, Charlie is humiliated. The 15-minute rant he delivers about the disadvantaged status of the white male besieged by affirmative action and feminism is the play’s dramatic highlight. Bill is horrified that his son has not absorbed the liberal values on which he was raised and calls him a spoiled brat. Sherri casts aside her professional views and behaves like any sympathetic mother. Her friendship with Ginnie is put to the test when Sherri does not rebuke her son for saying that Perry’s acceptance was racially motivated. Later, Charlie reflects on his situation and decides to pursue a sacrificial course of action more in accord with his parents’ values. Instead of pleasing them, this infuriates them and they do all they can to undermine his decision. Harmon has cleverly plotted the proceedings to show how noble intentions can be overruled when personal advantage is threatened. The dialogue is sharp and the balance between satire and realism is mostly successful. A few scenes run a bit longer than necessary. The cast brings the characters vividly to life vividly. Jessica Hecht avoids the mannerisms that sometimes mar her performances. Ben Edelman shows great promise. Ann McDonough is a delight. Riccardo Hernandez’s (Parade, Indecent) set combines Sherri’s office and home. The location of her desk right in the center with her home furniture around the edges suggests that her job is central to her life. I was sitting in the front row and the presence of actors shouting less than two feet away was a bit startling. Toni-Leslie James’s (Come from Away, Jitney) costumes are apt. Director Daniel Aukin (Bad Jews, 4000 Miles, Fulfillment Center) shows a real affinity for Harmon’s work, which, to me, has been improving with each new play. Running time: one hour 40 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.

A Letter to Harvey Milk

C+

When I saw four people (Ellen M. Schwartz, Cheryl Stern, Laura I. Kramer and Jerry James) listed in my Playbill under “Book,” I started to worry whether this musical at the Acorn Theatre could have a unified vision. Although this sweet, well-meaning musical was crowned Most Promising Musical at the 2012 New York Musical Festival, my worries were justified. This schmaltzy adaptation of a short story by Leslea Newman, author of Heather Has Two Mommies, runs the gamut from Borscht Belt shtick to tenderness to tragedy. Incidentally, when I say “schmaltzy” I am being literal. An actual jar of schmaltz makes an appearance. And if you don’t know what schmaltz is, this is probably not the show for you. The three main characters are Harry Weinberg (Adam Heller; It Shoulda Been You), a retired widowed kosher butcher in San Francisco; Barbara Katsef (Julia Knitel; Beautiful), the 30ish lesbian with writer’s block who teaches a writing workshop at the local Jewish Community Center; and Frannie Weinberg (Cheryl Stern; La Cage aux Folles), whose lively meddling ghost suddenly makes an appearance when Harry enrolls in Barbara’s class. The other four actors -- Michael Bartoli (Forbidden Broadway), who looks eerily like Harvey Milk; Jeremy Greenbaum (Newsies), Aury Krebs and CJ Pawlikowski (The Book of Mormon) -- perform well in multiple roles. Frannie provides comic relief and gets the show’s best number, “What a Shanda” (rhymes with squander and Rwanda). When given an assignment to write a letter to someone who is no longer alive, Harry writes not to Frannie but to Harvey Milk, whom he met in Milk's camera store and in whom he took a fatherly interest. Barbara is touched by his letter and tells Harry how Harvey Milk’s legacy gave her the courage to come out to her not-very-Jewish parents who promptly cast her out. Harry sets out to teach her some Yiddishkeit, but becomes upset when she tells a flirting waiter at the local deli that she is a lesbian. They reconcile, but then Harry becomes even more upset when he sees a large pink triangle on her tee shirt. Eventually, he shares a long-suppressed wartime memory with her. The lyrics by the late Ellen M. Schwartz supplemented by lyrics by Cheryl Stern are often clunky. The generic music by Laura I. Kramer is enhanced by fine orchestrations by Ned Paul Ginsburg. The attractive two-level set design by David L. Arsenault (Peer Gynt) evokes typical San Francisco architecture and efficiently wheels in props for each location. Debbi Hobson’s costumes are excellent. Director Evan Pappas (Wonderful Town) keeps the action flowing smoothly. If you are expecting a play about Harvey Milk, you will be disappointed. I couldn’t escape the feeling that the show was crafted to pander to an audience that is Jewish, LGBT, or preferably both. It has its moments, but the uneven tone undermines it. Running time: 85 minutes, no intermission.

Old Stock: A Refugee Love Story

B-

This 59E59 Theater import from Nova Scotia is hard to classify. Is it a play enhanced by songs or a song cycle interrupted by dialog? In either case, it tells the story of the arrival and early years in Canada of playwright Hannah Moscovitch’s great-grandparents, Romanian Jews who arrived in Halifax in 1908.  Chaim (Chris Weatherstone) is a rather naive romantic 19-year-old who has lost his entire family in a pogrom. Chaya (Mary Fay Coady) is a prickly, pragmatic 24-year-old who lost her husband to typhus en route to Canada. They meet briefly at Pier 21 in Halifax — Canada’s equivalent of Ellis Island — and later in Montreal. Chaim’s courtship is awkward, but Chaya eventually relents. A foolish remark by Chaim on their wedding night evokes a response from Chaya that casts a long shadow over their marriage. Their scenes together are quietly understated but quite effective. Not only are they fine actors, but Weatherstone also plays the woodwinds and Coady, the violin. Two other musicians, who do not have speaking roles, are Graham Scott on keyboard and accordion and Jamie Kronick on percussion. Last but definitely not least is Ben Caplan, who, with director Christian Barry, wrote the songs and who performs them all in the persona of The Wanderer, a top-hatted narrator/emcee/commentator. Caplan, a popular Canadian folk singer/songwriter, is both the best and the worst thing about the piece. He has a powerful distinctive voice and a strong performing presence that threatens to overwhelm the quiet story of Chaim and Chaya. His music, often klezmer-infected, is easy on the ears. I would say more about the lyrics if I could have heard them better. At least where I was sitting, they were often drowned out by the music, particularly by the percussion. One of the songs I did hear was a catalog of the many terms for intercourse, whose connection to the story was tenuous at best. I’m not a prude but Caplan’s frequent use of profanity seemed gratuitous. Caplan also offers a beautiful rendition of the Jewish prayer for the dead, whose inclusion I found manipulative. While both the drama and the music are worthy of our attention, they seem to some extent to be at war with each other. The clever set design by Luisa Adamson and Christian Barry deserves special mention. A red shipping container fills a good part of the stage when the audience arrives. It opens to reveal the five performers who return to it at play’s end. The play’s title refers to a remark by a conservative former prime minister suggesting that “old-stock Canadians” might be overwhelmed by arriving immigrants. One wonders how much has changed in 100+ years. Running time: 85 minutes, no intermission.

Amy and the Orphans

B

Kudos to Roundabout Theatre Company for their Underground program that produces early work by promising playwrights such as Stephen Karam (Speech & Debate), Steven Levenson (The Language of Trees) and Joshua Harmon (Bad Jews), who prove worthy of a move upstairs to the Laura Pels Theatre for their next work. This new play by Lindsey Ferrentino (Ugly Lies the Bone) continues their enviable track record. Having an aunt with Down syndrome inspired her to write this tragicomedy about three adult siblings temporarily reunited after their father’s death. Jacob (Mark Blum; The Assembled Parties, Rancho Viejo), a 60-year-old middle school teacher from California, and Maggie (Debra Monk; Curtains, Steel Pier), his recently divorced sister from Chicago, meet at LaGuardia Airport on their way to pick up their younger sister Amy (Jamie Brewer; "American Horror Story") [or, at matinees, their younger brother Andy (Edward Barbanell; "The Ringer")] at the group home in Queens where she [or he] lives and proceed to their late father’s home in Montauk for his funeral. They are dreading the task of telling Amy [Andy] about the death of their father — and mother, who died some months before. Amy’s [Andy’s] protective aide Kathy (Vanessa Aspillaga; Daphne's Dive, The Clean House) insists that state regulations require that she accompany them on the trip. In interspersed scenes, we also meet Sarah (Diane Davis; Golden Boy, The Model Apartment) and Bobby (Josh McDermitt; "The Walking Dead"), a 30-ish couple at a workshop trying to do a communication exercise that might help them reach an important decision. We soon realize that these are the parents of the three siblings and the decision they are trying to reach is whether to institutionalize their Down syndrome baby. The alternation of the two plot lines in two time periods works well. The nature of the topic makes it all the more surprising that the play is basically a comedy with serious overtones. This is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, the humorous dialogue is very entertaining with lots of zingers. On the other hand, the neuroses of Jacob and Maggie flirt dangerously with sitcom humor and Kathy’s exuberance is almost overbearing. I thought the scenes between Sarah and Bobby struck the best balance between humor and pathos. There is a revelation late in the play that punctures the lighter mood. I found the transformation that it elicits in Maggie and Jacob unconvincing. A lot rests on the title character. At my performance, that was Andy and Edward Barbanell played him superbly, especially in the moving final monologue. All the roles must be catnip for actors. Rachel Hauck’s (Latin History for Morons, Hadestown) uncluttered set design facilitates scene changes. Alejo Vietti’s (Holiday Inn, Storefront Church) costumes are evocative. Director Scott Ellis (She Loves Me, Curtains) navigates the changes of time, place and mood smoothly. Even though I had reservations about its flaws while watching it, I surrendered and allowed it to both entertain and move me.  Running time: 90 minutes, no interimssion.

Edward Albee’s At Home at the Zoo: Homelife & The Zoo Story

A-

About a decade ago, Edward Albee wrote Homelife, a one-act play that is set immediately before the action of The Zoo Story. Homelife fleshes out the character of Peter (Robert Sean Leonard; The Invention of Love) so we have more insight into this seemingly complacent textbook publisher before his memorable confrontation with the volatile Jerry (Paul Sparks; Buried Child, Blackbird) in Central Park. In addition, it lets us meet Peter’s wife Ann (Katie Finneran; Noises Off, Promises, Promises) and witness the communication difficulties in their mostly happy marriage. The two plays were presented together in 2007 at Second Stage under the title Peter and Jerry. Albee later decreed that neither play could be presented without the other. Now, as part of Signature Theatre’s Albee series, they are back under the clumsy title Edward Albee’s At Home at the Zoo: Homelife & The Zoo Story. It is hard to imagine a production that makes a stronger case for the conjoined plays. All three actors are superb in their roles. The semiabstract set design by Andrew Lieberman (Fulfillment Center) concentrates our attention on the actors. Leonard turns reacting into an art form. Finneran’s Ann is a sympathetic presence. Sparks’s Jerry is mesmerizing, deftly building the sense of menace. Even if you know what’s coming, you will be shocked. My only reservations are about Homelife. On the one hand, it fills out the evening nicely. On the other hand, my feelings about it are quite mixed. I find the talk of hacked-off breasts, shrinking genitalia and sexual attack downright unpleasant and cannot imagine the play standing alone. However, as a warmup to the main event, it serves its purpose and the main event is not to be missed. Lila Neugebauer, who has a reputation for expertly directing plays with large ensembles (The Wolves, The Antipodes, Everybody, The Wayside Motor Inn), demonstrates that she can also superbly handle something more intimate. It’s a bracing evening. Running time: 2 hours 10 minutes including intermission.

The Low Road

B

Five years after its premiere at the Royal Court Theatre in London, this picaresque epic by Bruce Norris (The Pain and the Itch, Clybourne Park) has arrived in New York at the Public Theater. Jim Trewitt (Norris has changed the last name of the lead character from Trumpett so audiences would not think he was writing with our president in mind), played by Chris Perfetti (Six Degrees of Separation, Everybody), could be a mashup of Tom Jones, Candide and Michael Milken. Left on the doorstep of a brothel as a baby, he has been raised by the brothel owner Mrs. Trewitt (Harriet Harris, ever a delight; The Roads to Home, It Shouda Been You) to believe that he is the illegitimate son of George Washington. At a tender age, he is exposed to the works of Adam Smith and decides to make the practice of free-market capitalism his life’s mission. Smith, by the way, drolly personified by Daniel Davis (Wrong Mountain, Noises Off), is our narrator. In his ruthless pursuit of wealth, Trewitt defrauds the prostitutes to build a stake for his future dealings. He purchases an educated slave, John Blanke (the charismatic Chukwudi Imuji; Hamlet and King Lear at the Public), who had been the ward and intended heir of a British nobleman. The two spend some time in a New England religious community where there is a spirited debate about the relative merits of altruism and selfishness. Trewitt is captured by Hessian mercenaries and threatened with execution. We are suddenly diverted to the very recent past where a blue-ribbon panel is bloviating at a Davos-like conference not long after the financial meltdown of 2007-8. After their session is rudely interrupted, we return to the story of Jim Trewitt who, of course, has not been executed and has survived to pursue his career under the patronage of Isaac Low (an amusing Kevin Chamberlain; Dirty Blonde, The Ritz), a wealthy New York businessman. His financial shenanigans closely resemble the maneuvers that brought about our recent collapse. Will he get his comeuppance? I’ll let you guess. While the play has lots of amusing moments, the targets of satire sometimes seem too easy to hit. The picaresque tale and the cautionary economics lesson do not cohere smoothly. Nevertheless, it is quite entertaining and I will never complain when a production offers the opportunity to see such stalwart actors as Harriet Harris, Kevin Chamberlain and Daniel Davis. While Chris Perfetti is fine as Trewitt, I would have loved the chance to see Johnny Flynn in the role he originated. Alas, Mr. Flynn is otherwise occupied in the cast of Hangmen at the Atlantic Theater and has not yet mastered the ability to be two places at once. The other members of the 17-person cast, most of whom play multiple roles, are fine. The set design by David Korins (War Paint, Hamilton) is elegantly flexible and the costumes by Emily Rebholz (Mary Jane, Indecent) add a lot to the production. Director Michael Greif (Dear Evan Hansen, A Parallelogram) directs with confident control of a complicated work. While it’s not up there with Norris’s finest work, it offers enough to enjoy to make the experience worthwhile. Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes including intermission.